#this was going to be a one shot but they are WAY too much fun to write

[pandapetals]

Pony

You go to the strip club for a friend's bachelotte party and become flustered by one of the performers.

stripper!logan howlett x fem!reader - smut, steamy, logan is a stripper, cocky logan, slight reader description, no y/n used, strip club, reader is at a friend’s bachelotte party, handjob, fingering, p in v sex, riding, sexual tension, teasing banter, inspired by the song pony by ginuwine

a/n: everyone knows i struggle writing smut but here we are again... Inspired by the song pony…also dedicating this to @she-loves-wolvie. are we surprised, no. she is a genius.

divider credit: @adornedwithlight

This was a mistake—a terrible idea.

You sat rooted to your spot in the front row, your thighs pressing together under the tiny cocktail dress you’d reluctantly chosen for the bachelorette party. The bass of the music thumped through the club, vibrating up through the soles of your heels and into your chest, but it wasn’t the beat that had your pulse racing. No, it was him.

He strode onto the stage as if he owned it, broad shoulders rolling under the sharp cut of a half-open firefighter’s jacket, the dark suspenders tugged low on his hips. His grin was the kind of slow, wicked thing that curled your toes and promised trouble. Even from across the room, you could see the faint sheen of sweat on his chest catching the light, highlighting every hard ridge of muscle.

The heat that swept through you had nothing to do with the club’s packed bodies or the tequila shots still buzzing in your veins. It had everything to do with the way he moved. The man didn’t just dance—he prowled. Each step was deliberate, hips swaying in time with the music, every ripple of his abs purposeful. He dropped to a crouch, rolling his body with a liquid ease that made your breath hitch.

“Holy hell,” you muttered, trying not to stare but failing miserably. Your fingers clenched around the stem of your drink like it might keep you anchored, but your mind was already slipping. All you could think about was how his low-slung pants clung to him—like a second skin—and the dangerous gleam in his eyes when he glanced your way.

Wait.

Your heart stuttered.

He was looking at you.

You tried to convince yourself it was just a coincidence, that his smirk was part of the act, but the weight of his gaze burned through the flashing club lights like a brand. His grin deepened as he leaned back against the fireman’s pole, gripping it with one hand and spinning lazily like he had all the time in the world to tease. The other hand slid down his chest, his fingers brushing over the waistband of his pants before his thumb hooked just under the edge.

The air caught in your throat as his eyes locked on yours, and suddenly, the rest of the club might as well have disappeared. It was just him and you, and the unspoken dare crackling between you like static electricity. He must’ve seen how your breath quickened because his smirk turned downright sinful, and he tilted his head as if silently asking, Are you enjoying the show?

Oh, you were. Too much.

Your cheeks burned as he sauntered closer to the edge of the stage, those lazy hips drawing him near like a magnet. The crowd around you was a blur of cheers and hollers, but all you could focus on was the heat pooling low in your stomach and how your knees pressed tighter together. His fingers trailed along the stage’s edge as he bent forward slightly, giving you an unobstructed view of his abs—and something told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Having fun?” he mouthed, and the words hit you harder than any shout over the music.

You swallowed hard, trying to summon a shred of composure, but all you could manage was a shaky nod.

Big mistake. His smile widened like a predator spotting its prey, and as the song shifted, his movements grew slower, sultrier. His body rolled in time with the sultry beat, every motion designed to drive you wild. By the time he reached for the clasp of the suspenders and snapped them loose, letting them dangle at his sides, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to cheer or melt into the floor.

“This was supposed to be fun,” you muttered, but even you couldn’t deny the truth. Fun didn’t feel like this—like your entire body was a live wire, buzzing with a heat that had you squirming in your seat. He wasn’t just dancing; he was playing with you. And judging by the way his eyes lingered on you longer than anyone else in the crowd, he knew it.

And God help you, you didn’t want him to stop.

Eventually, his turn ended, and another dancer came out, but you barely noticed. The crowd erupted into cheers for the newcomer, but your eyes were glued to the empty stage, and the afterimage of him—of that man—burned into your mind. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your damp palms against your thighs in an attempt to ground yourself.

“You look flustered.”

Kimberly’s voice cut through the thudding bass, and you turned to find her smirking at you, one perfectly arched brow raised in amusement. She didn’t look even slightly affected by the show, her posture relaxed as she sipped her cocktail like she’d been attending strip clubs every Friday night of her life.

“I’m fine,” you lied, straightening your spine and forcing a casual shrug. “It’s just the alcohol.”

Kimberly snorted, clearly not buying it. She tilted her head toward the other girls at the table, who were laughing and shouting at the next dancer. “Right. The alcohol. Sure. You looked like you were about to combust when he looked at you.”

You rolled your eyes, willing the heat rising in your cheeks to go unnoticed. “I’m fine, Kimberly.”

“Uh-huh.” She grinned knowingly and turned back to the group, leaving you to stew in your flustered state.

The air suddenly felt suffocating, the pounding music and the crush of bodies too much to handle. You needed space—or a drink stronger than whatever sad cocktail Kimberly had ordered for you earlier. Pushing back your chair, you muttered something about going to the bar and wove through the crowd, ignoring the pulsing beat of the music and the occasional brush of someone’s shoulder against yours.

By the time you reached the bar, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You pressed your hands against the cool countertop, letting the chill seep into your skin as you sucked in a steadying breath. The bartender caught your eye, and you raised a finger. “Tequila. Straight.”

He nodded, sliding a shot glass toward you in record time. You knocked it back in one swift motion, the liquid burning its way down your throat. It helped. A little. At least now you could convince yourself the heat pooling low in your stomach was from the alcohol and not the way that stranger on stage had looked at you like he wanted to ruin you.

Or maybe you were failing miserably at that.

“Another?” the bartender asked, his tone neutral, and professional.

You were about to nod when you felt it—warmth at your back. Not the impersonal heat of the crowd, but something deliberate, focused. Someone was standing close enough that you could feel the faintest brush of their breath against your neck.

“You seem thirsty,” a low, teasing voice murmured behind you, and your body froze.

The voice was smooth as silk, with the faintest rasp sending a shiver skittering down your spine. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it belonged to. Him.

Your breath hitched, and you turned your head just enough to catch his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He was leaning casually against the counter, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Up close, he was even more devastating. The sharp line of his jaw, the mess of dark hair, the piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you—all of it was unfairly attractive.

“I—uh…” You swallowed, grasping for something, anything coherent to say, but your brain was still lagging behind your body, which had gone hot and traitorously aware of how close he was.

His smirk deepened, and he straightened slightly, his gaze dropping to the empty shot glass in your hand. “Tequila, huh? Bold choice. Does it help?”

“Help with what?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled a low sound that you felt more than heard. “With cooling off.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass, and you turned to face him fully, determined to regain some semblance of control. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice firm this time.

“Are you?” His eyes flicked down, taking in the flush creeping up your neck, the way you were still gripping the shot glass like a lifeline. He raised an eyebrow. “Because you don’t look fine.”

Your stomach flipped, a mix of embarrassment and something far more dangerous. “Look, I don’t know who you are—”

“Logan.” He interrupted smoothly, holding out a hand as if this was a perfectly normal introduction and not a moment charged with enough tension to short-circuit your brain.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it, his fingers warm and slightly rough against yours. “Okay, Logan,” you said, pulling your hand back quickly before your brain decided to do something stupid like notice how good he smelled—like clean sweat and cedar, with a hint of something spicy. “What do you want?”

He leaned in just enough that his voice was low, meant for you and you alone. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you were enjoying the show.”

The teasing edge in his tone sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you resisted the urge to press your thighs together. “It was… fine,” you said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to breathless.

“Just fine?” His grin widened, and the cocky tilt of his head made you want to throttle him—or kiss him. You weren’t entirely sure which. “Because from where I was standing, you looked like you were having a very good time.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a big ego, don’t you?”

“Only when I’m right.” His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before returning to your eyes, and your pulse spiked. “But if I’m wrong, feel free to correct me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His proximity, the heat of his body, the sheer audacity of his smirk—it was all too much.

Logan leaned back just enough to let a sliver of air slip between you, though it did nothing to cool the heat crawling up your spine. His lips curved into a lazy, maddening smirk that belonged to a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his voice low and velvet-smooth, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, sharp and unrelenting.

Your pulse jumped. “No, it’s a no—” you snapped.

“Really?” His grin deepened, and he tilted his head, studying you in a way that made you feel entirely exposed. “Because I could’ve sworn I saw you earlier. Front row. All flustered, mouth slightly parted, thighs rubbing together—”

Your stomach dropped. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, gorgeous.” He stepped closer again, just enough for his presence to wash over you like a wave. He leaned in, his lips hovering by your ear, and the rasp in his voice was enough to send a shiver racing down your neck. “I could feel it from the stage. How you looked at me—like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run or let me ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated how easily he read you. The heat pooling low in your belly flared again, and you found yourself gripping the edge of the bar for balance.

“Cocky much?” you shot back, hoping the bite in your tone would mask how unsteady you felt.

“Not cocky. Just observant.” Logan’s eyes dipped down your body, slow and deliberate, before meeting yours again. “And right.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry despite the tequila you’d just downed. The worst part was how your body betrayed you. The way your skin prickled, how your knees felt weak, the way your chest rose and fell just a little too quickly—he saw all of it, and he was enjoying every second.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone casual but the gleam in his eyes anything but, “if I’m making you this uncomfortable, you could just walk away.”

Your pride flared at the challenge in his voice, and you narrowed your eyes. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“No?” He leaned in again, his hand brushing the bar beside you as he boxed you in. “Because you’re looking at me like you’re trying to decide if kissing me would be a bad idea.”

Your heart stuttered. “I’m not—”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his lips quirking as he pulled back just enough to watch your reaction. “I’m not saying you should.” He let the moment hang, thick with tension, before his smirk turned devilish. “Just that you could.”

The words hung between you like a dare, and it was suddenly too much—the heat, the proximity, the way he seemed to unravel you with every glance. Your head spun as you tried to think of a retort, but the alcohol and the sheer intensity of him had your brain working at half speed.

And somehow, that was how you ended up letting him lead you toward one of the private rooms tucked at the back of the club.

The hallway was dimly lit, the music from the main floor muffled as Logan’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you past closed curtains and cracked open doors. Your heels clicked against the floor, but even that sound was drowned out by the thrum of blood rushing in your ears.

“Where are we going?” you managed, your voice breathy, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin still firmly in place. “Somewhere quieter.”

“That’s not an answer,” you muttered, though your legs betrayed you by continuing to follow him.

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he shot back with a wink, and damn it, why did that wink have to make your stomach flip?

Finally, he stopped outside a heavy curtain, pulling it aside to reveal a small room bathed in low, crimson light. A single plush armchair sat in the center of the space, plush and wide, clearly designed for what the club had advertised—lap dances. But as the curtain fell closed behind you, the air shifted, crackling with a tension that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with the two of you.

You hovered by the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you were alone with him, your body still humming from the tequila and his proximity. “I don’t… I don’t think this is a good idea,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Logan turned, his gaze dark and unreadable as he closed the distance between you. His hand came up, fingertips brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, and the simple touch sent a spark racing down your spine.

“No?” he asked softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “Because you came with me anyway.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He was close again, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough that the scent of him—earthy and spiced—wrapped around you like a drug.

“I think,” he murmured, his other hand skimming the curve of your waist before settling on your hip, “you’re just scared of how much you want this.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you hated—hated—how right he was.

Logan’s gaze stayed locked on you, dark and daring, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was about to deliver another smug remark that would have your blood boiling. Maybe that’s why you did it.

Or maybe it was the way his hand lingered on your hip, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against the fabric of your dress. Or the way the air between you was crackling, charged, begging for something to snap.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Before he could say another word, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him toward you, closing the gap in an instant. Your lips crashed against his, and whatever smartass thing he was about to say was swallowed in the kiss.

Logan made a low sound in the back of his throat, startled for only a second before he recovered, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for it all night, his lips skilled and confident, claiming yours with a fervor that made your head spin.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging at the dark strands just hard enough to draw a sharp inhale from him. He groaned against your lips, and the sound sent a thrill racing through you, lighting up every nerve ending like fireworks.

“Bold move, gorgeous,” he muttered between kisses, his lips curving against yours.

“Shut up,” you breathed, tangling your fingers tighter in his hair and pulling him back into you.

Logan obliged, his mouth slanting against yours with a roughness that matched your own. His hands roamed your sides, fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, the dip of your waist, the small of your back—exploring but never pushing too far. He let you set the pace, and you weren’t about to hold back.

The crimson glow of the room bathed his sharp features as you broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your lips tingling and swollen. Logan’s chest heaved, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, his smirk now replaced with something darker.

But you weren’t done.

Without giving him time to recover, you shoved at his chest firmly enough to send him stumbling backward into the plush armchair. He sank into it with a grunt, his legs spread wide as he caught himself on the arms of the chair. For once, Logan looked momentarily caught off guard, and the sight of it sent a surge of confidence through you.

“Damn,” he murmured, his lips quirking upward, though his voice was rougher now, the teasing edge tempered by something deeper. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You ignored him.

Instead, you stepped forward, your hands bracing on the back of the chair as you swung a leg over his lap. His eyes darkened as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushion on either side of his thighs. You leaned in, close enough that your breath mingled with his, and the predatory gleam in his eyes sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Still think I’m flustered?” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear just enough to feel him stiffen beneath you.

Logan’s hands found your hips, gripping them firmly as he leaned back into the chair, his smirk returning, though this time it was edged with heat. “Oh, I know you are,” he rasped. “But I’m not complaining.”

His words sent a spark of frustration—and desire—coursing through you, and you didn’t hesitate before crashing your mouth against his again. This time, it was rougher, hungrier, teeth and tongue clashing in a way that had you both gasping for air.

Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until you were flush against him, his body solid and warm beneath you. You could feel the tension coiled in him, his fingers gripping you like he was barely holding himself back, and the restraint only fueled the fire building inside you.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. When you reached the hem, you tugged it upward, your nails grazing his skin in a way that made him hiss against your lips.

“Fuck,” Logan muttered, his voice rough with both surprise and amusement. “You waste no time, huh?”

His smugness was back, written all over the lopsided grin tugging at his swollen lips. That grin—the same one that had both infuriated and ignited you from the second he walked into your orbit—made your stomach flip and your blood burn in equal measure. Now, you weren’t interested in sparring with words. You wanted to make him eat that cocky grin, to wipe it clean off his face until he couldn’t do anything but feel.

“Why would I take it slow?” you shot back, your voice low, almost a purr, as your fingers trailed down his chest. You felt him tense beneath your touch, the muscles of his torso rippling as you worked your way lower, each inch of his body more deliciously solid than the last.

Logan let out a breathy laugh, though it broke halfway through as your hand hovered just over the waistband of his pants. “Damn,” he rasped, his voice dipping lower. “You really aren’t shy, are you?”

You didn’t answer, and you didn’t need to. Words weren’t what either of you needed right now. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on his as you reached for the button of his pants, your fingers working with a confidence you didn’t know you had.

The moment the fabric loosened under your touch, Logan’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering as the heat between you flared, molten and undeniable. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as you tugged the zipper down, the sound almost deafening in the small, crimson-lit room.

“Shit,” he muttered, his head tipping back against the chair, though his gaze flicked back to you quickly as if he couldn’t bear to look away for too long. “You’re gonna kill me, gorgeous.”

“Good,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked grin of your own.

With a deliberate slowness that had his entire body tensing beneath you, you slid your hand beneath the fabric, your fingers brushing against heated skin. Logan groaned, low and rough, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as you wrapped your hand around him.

The sound he made was sinful, the kind of sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine and made your pulse pound harder in your ears. His head tipped back again, exposing the sharp line of his jaw, and you couldn’t resist leaning forward to press your lips against it. The scrape of his stubble against your mouth was delicious, and you let your teeth graze his skin lightly, earning another low, guttural groan from him.

His hands slid higher, fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs, his touch just shy of where you wanted it most. It was infuriating how good he was at this—how he could be falling apart under your touch and still dare to tease you.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a strained mix of pleasure and frustration as you moved your hand, slow and steady, testing what he liked. His hips jerked upward slightly, and his fingers dug into your thighs, his control slipping.

“You talk too much,” you teased, leaning close enough that your breath brushed against his ear.

Logan let out a strangled laugh, his voice raw. “And you’re full of surprises.” His hands flexed against your legs, his thumbs brushing over your inner thighs in a way that made your breath hitch. “Dangerous ones.”

You didn’t respond; you were too focused on how his body reacted to you. His groans deepened, his breaths coming faster, his muscles tensing beneath you. Every sound, every shift, every reaction was a victory, and you could feel his restraint unraveling with each passing second.

“You’re enjoying this,” he rasped, his voice barely audible, his tone between amusement and surrender.

“Obviously,” you replied, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as you spoke.

Logan’s laugh was short and broken, and when he finally tipped his head forward, his gaze met yours. His eyes were dark and blown with desire, his smirk long gone, replaced by something raw and desperate.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Logan muttered, his voice dark and teasing, just before his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack. The sting was quick, but the warmth that bloomed in its wake sent a shiver racing through you. Your movements froze, your hand pausing mid-stroke against him, caught off guard by the sudden jolt of sensation.

“Did I say you could stop?” he rasped, his tone low, commanding, and dripping with heat.

The words alone sent a spark surging through you, your stomach tightening as heat pooled low in your core. You bit your lip, trying to stay composed, but the tiniest flicker of hesitation must have shown in your expression.

Because Logan smirked and then his palm met your ass again, harder this time, the sound sharp in the small room.

Your breath hitched, your pulse thundering in your ears as you let out a soft gasp. “Go on,” he said, his voice a rough, gravelly edge that made your thighs press together instinctively. “Don’t stop now.”

Your fingers wrapped around him again, and you began to move, slow and deliberate, testing his control. The low groan that escaped his throat was more than enough encouragement to keep going.

Logan’s hands didn’t stay idle. One of them was still gripping your hip, keeping you steady in his lap, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure. But the other—the other drifted lower, his touch firm but unhurried as it slid along the curve of your thigh.

Your breath caught as his hand moved higher, his fingertips skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before finding the edge of your panties. His movements were teasing, maddeningly slow, as though he had all the time in the world to undo you.

When his fingers finally dipped beneath the fabric, brushing against you, your head fell forward, a strangled moan slipping past your lips.

“Mmm,” Logan murmured, his voice like velvet, his breath hot against your ear. “Already so wet.”

The smugness in his tone should have annoyed you, but instead, it only stoked the fire burning in your core. Your hand tightened around him in retaliation, your grip firm as you stroked him, earning another low, guttural groan that vibrated through his chest and into yours.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” he hissed, his forehead briefly pressing against your shoulder as his fingers moved, slow and deliberate, teasing you in a way that made it impossible to think straight. His thumb brushed against just the right spot, and your hips jerked involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his hand.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, the sound rumbling against your skin. “Someone’s impatient,” he murmured, his lips brushing the side of your neck.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, too focused on the push and pull of sensation—the way his fingers slid against you, coaxing sounds from you that you couldn’t have held back if you tried. The combination of your movements around him and the way his hand worked you was overwhelming, your body teetering on the edge of losing control entirely.

“You feel so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice thick with restraint, his breathing uneven as your hand continued to move, drawing sharp, broken groans from him.

His other hand slid up your back, tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back until your eyes met his. Logan’s gaze was molten, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted as he drank you in. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he growled, his tone dripping with hunger.

“Good,” you breathed, your voice shaky but bold as you pressed your forehead against his, letting your lips brush his in a teasing, fleeting touch.

Logan’s fingers pressed deeper, his movements skilled and deliberate, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, dissolving into a whimper as his thumb found just the right spot, circling with maddening precision. Your body arched against him, your breathing ragged and shallow, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge.

“Look at you,” Logan rasped, his voice rough and frayed like he was barely holding himself together. His forehead brushed yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips. “You gonna cum for me?”

The words hit you like a lightning strike, a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. Your stomach clenched, and your thighs trembled, but instead of answering, you tightened your grip around him, stroking him harder, faster, desperate to drive him over the same edge he was so skillfully pushing you toward.

Logan groaned, the sound low and guttural, his hips jerking upward into your hand as his control faltered. His fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that had your head tipping back, a broken moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a strained growl as his free hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. His lips brushed your jaw and then neck, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that only added to the overwhelming heat pooling low in your stomach.

You tried to hold on, to stay grounded, but the feverish, escalating rhythm between you was too much. His fingers worked you mercilessly, every movement driving you higher, tighter until you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

“Logan,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips, your voice trembling with the weight of it.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, his voice rough and dripping with hunger. “Let go for me. I want to feel you.”

The coil in your core snapped, and you came undone, your body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you. Your vision blurred, your head tipping forward to bury against his shoulder as a ragged, desperate moan escaped your lips. Logan groaned in response, his hand steadying you, guiding you through it, his fingers still moving as aftershocks rippled through you.

But you weren’t the only one losing control.

Your hand on him didn’t falter, your movements picking up speed even as your body shook in his lap. You could feel him straining against your grip, his breaths coming fast and shallow, each exhale warm against your skin.

“Fuck, you’re gonna—” His words broke off into a strangled groan, his head tipping back against the chair, exposing the strong line of his throat as he unraveled beneath you. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as his body tensed.

You watched him fall apart, every sound, every shuddering breath sending a fresh thrill racing through you. His lips parted, his jaw clenched, and then he let go, his body jerking beneath yours as his release spilled over your hand, hot and sticky, marking both of you.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breathing, both of you trembling, chests rising and falling in sync as the tension slowly ebbed away.

Logan was the first to break the silence, a low, breathless laugh rumbling in his chest. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but laced with amusement. His hands slid up your back, holding you against him as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You don’t play fair, do you?”

You let out a shaky laugh, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. But you weren’t done.

“No,” you whispered, your voice still uneven but laced with determination.

Logan’s brows lifted slightly, his lips parting as if to say something, but before he could get a word out, your hands were already moving. You slid your panties to the side again with deliberate ease. Logan’s gaze dropped, his hazel eyes tracking every movement, his chest still rising and falling heavily.

“Wait a second,” he started, his voice a rasp of amusement mixed with surprise.

But you didn’t wait. Instead, you lifted yourself slightly, your hand wrapping around him, positioning him at your entrance. The feel of him, hot and hard against you, sent a fresh wave of heat racing through your body. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, daring him to stop you.

Logan’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as he looked up at you, the faintest hint of a challenge lingering in his gaze. “Damn, gorgeous,” he hissed as you began to sink down onto him, slow and deliberate, your walls stretching around him inch by inch. His head tipped back against the chair, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. “Take it easy.”

“Why?” you shot back, your voice low and breathy, though your lips curled into a wicked smile. “Can’t handle it?”

That wiped away the last trace of his cocky grin. His hands flexed against your hips, his gaze snapping back to you, sharp and burning with intensity. “Oh, I can handle it,” he growled, his voice rough and edged with need. “The question is, can you?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pressed your palms against his chest for leverage, your nails grazing over the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt as you sank down fully, taking him to the hilt.

The sound that tore from Logan’s throat was raw, almost guttural, his hips jerking up into you as his head tipped back once again. His control—so cool and smug just moments ago—was starting to crack, and the sight of it sent a surge of satisfaction coursing through you.

You started to move, slow and purposeful at first, testing the rhythm, testing him. Logan’s groans deepened, his fingers sliding down to grip your thighs as his hips bucked slightly in time with your movements.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl. “You’re killing me.”

You leaned forward, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Yeah?”

That single word seemed to undo him further. His grip on your thighs tightened, his hips moving more insistently beneath you, but you weren’t about to let him take control. Not this time.

You straightened up, pressing your hands firmly against his chest to hold him down as you picked up your pace, your movements rougher now, needier. The friction, the heat, the way he filled you—it was all-consuming, overwhelming, and yet you wanted more.

“You feel so good. Just like that,” Logan groaned, his voice strained, his hands sliding back to your hips to guide you even though it was clear you didn’t need the help. 

“You talk too much,” you shot back, a playful edge in your tone even as your breaths came faster, your body tightening, coiling, building toward something inevitable.

Logan let out a breathless laugh, though it quickly dissolved into a moan as you rolled your hips, the movement pulling another low groan from deep in his chest. His head fell forward slightly, his lips grazing your collarbone, your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered, “Yeah but you like it.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your pace quickening as you chased that edge, your body burning with the need to prove him wrong.

The tension in your body reached a breaking point, your thighs trembling as the pleasure surged higher and higher. Logan’s hands clutched at you, his breathing harsh, his voice barely audible as he rasped your name like a prayer.

And then you shattered.

The release ripped through you, your walls clenching tightly around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Your head tipped back, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your body bucked against his. Logan groaned beneath you, his grip on your hips faltering as he felt you fall apart, his own control slipping further.

His head fell back against the chair, his jaw tight, his lips parted as he let out a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through both of you. His hands clenched at your skin, holding you in place as his hips jerked beneath you, his release hitting hard and fast, his composure completely obliterated.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the heat of your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Your chest heaved, your hands still pressed against his chest as you steadied yourself, your legs shaking slightly from the effort.

Logan looked up at you then, his face flushed, his eyes dark and dazed. That smug grin of his? Gone. Replaced by something softer like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a slow, languid kiss, savoring the way his body relaxed beneath you, the way his hands still rested on your hips like he didn’t want to let you go.

“Guess you were wrong,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft but dripping with triumph, a smug smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Logan let out a breathless laugh, his chest still heaving beneath your palms. His head rested against the chair, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin under the dim red glow of the room. He shook his head slightly, the movement slow and lazy, as if he were still catching his breath. His hands slid up your back in a way that made you shiver, the pressure steady and possessive.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and low, roughened by everything you’d just put him through. “But I’m not even mad.”

You smirked at that, your satisfaction blooming at the sight of him—disheveled, flushed, and for once completely stripped of his cocky confidence. His hair was an unruly mess, his lips red and swollen from your kisses. You’d done that to him, and you couldn’t help the rush of pride that followed.

Still, the teasing glint in his eye told you he wasn’t quite ready to give you the last word.

Feeling his weight still beneath you, the lingering heat between your bodies, you pushed against his chest to get up. Your legs were a little shaky, but your resolve was firm.

But Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place with an effortless strength that sent a jolt of something thrilling through you. His fingers flexed against your skin to let you know he wasn’t ready to let go.

“Where you going, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice lazy but dripping with heat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief despite the exhaustion etched into his features.

“I had my fun,” you replied, tilting your head slightly as you gave him your best smirk.

His brow shot up, a single, questioning arch that made your stomach flip. “You had your fun?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could while straddling him, your hands still braced on his chest. “Mission accomplished. You’re wrecked. I’m satisfied. Seems fair to me.”

Logan chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating beneath your palms. “Satisfied, huh?” he repeated, his tone laced with playful skepticism. “You sure about that?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his challenge, but before you could fire back, Logan shifted beneath you, his hands sliding from your hips to the curve of your waist. The movement was slow, deliberate, and far too smooth for someone who should’ve been as wrecked as he looked. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin just beneath your ribs, a touch so light it felt like he was testing you.

“Because I don’t think you are,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smirk as his eyes flicked down to where your bodies were still pressed together. “Not really.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your pulse betrayed you, thrumming harder at the weight of his hands on your skin. “I think I know when I’m satisfied, Logan.”

“Do you, though?” he countered, his smirk growing as his gaze climbed back up to yours. “Because if this is you satisfied, gorgeous, I can’t wait to see what you’re like when you’re really having fun.”

You stared at him, your lips parting as his words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you. And damn him, he saw it—saw the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes flickered just slightly, betraying the lingering hunger that even you hadn’t realized was still there.

Logan’s grin softened, losing some of its sharpness as his hands slid back down to your hips, holding you there. “Stay,” he said softly, though his tone still had an edge of playfulness. “Unless you’re scared I’ll prove you wrong again.”

You narrowed your eyes, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed the composure you tried to maintain. “Scared?” you scoffed, leaning forward slightly, your hands trailing up his chest. “Not a chance.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around,” you said finally, your voice light but your heart pounding.

Logan grinned, leaning forward just enough to brush his lips against yours. “Damn right, you will.”

[celestiamour]

Hej, czy mógłbyś stworzyć grę fem-reader x thanos (gra squid), w której oboje mają ten sam klimat i są najlepszymi przyjaciółmi z dzieciństwa, ale thanos zakochuje się w niej i w końcu mówi jej o tym w pierwszej grze??? (Jeśli uważasz, że to głupie, pomiń) Miłego dnia/nocy 😁🙏

ft. choi su-bong (thanos) x gn! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ childhood best friend! reader┊0.6k words

contains: thanos is his own warning, mentions of bullying, canon-typical violence, drug use, love confessions, they have the same energy, this sucks I'm so sorry

➤ author's note: i forgot how to write!! please be patient with me!! (i hope i translated this right)

╰₊✧ let’s get one thing straight, you probably teamed up to steal lunch money from other kids and maybe even pushed them into lockers afterward: a troublesome duo who ended up in the principal’s office more than once and had to be seated far away from each other or else the entire classroom would erupt into chaos. your parents told both of you to stay away from the other as they were a terrible influence, but it just had you guys sneaking out in the middle of the night to hang out at a nearby park.

╰₊✧ that’s when he realizes you’re his first love probably, pushing you on the swing set at two in the morning with nothing but a dim street light to light up the night, barely in high school and yet determined to make you his. unfortunately, while he’s trying to figure out how to tell you or figure out how you feel about him so as not to ruin the friendship, you tragically move away for some reason and leave him broken-hearted.

╰₊✧ he wrote his first rap about this experience, and it touched hearts all around the world, probably launched his career, and remains in his top ten most streamed songs. 

╰₊✧ alright, now to the games, the second he laid eyes on you, it was like all the young love buried from years ago hit him like a ton of bricks. he audibly gasped as if he had just run into the queen of england, even making his fans turn their heads, jogging up to you to see if you remembered him. he’s so excited, he almost trips on his way over.

╰₊✧ on your end, you remembered him obviously, he’s made quite a name for himself and you’ve seen clips of his music videos/performances which you look into every now and then out of curiosity. you would be lying if you said he wasn’t even more handsome than the screens do him justice, his brightly-colored purple hair seemed to suit him so well and he’s grown so tall. you’re also pleased to see that little has changed about his attitude, still the same old su-bong you remember him to be.

╰₊✧ you two are probably near each other when the true nature of the game is revealed, and he offers you one of the colorful pills hidden in his cross necklace which you smack him for getting into drugs, but you can’t say you’re surprised. he becomes so carefree afterward that he blatantly pushes three other people over and watches them get shot for the fun of it, but he also does the contradictory action of hiding you behind him to make sure you don’t get shot. 

╰₊✧ the smile that splits his face when he hears you laughing and going along with his antics is worthy of being photographed when it hits him that this experience would be much like the times you both shared as kids. he finally reunited with his childhood best friend, and he’s going to make the most of the time you have together— death games be damned! 

╰₊✧ keeps you close throughout the voting process and confesses his love once he sees you press the blue button. the amount of time you both have left is uncertain, but if you both help each other out and make it out alive, then the leftover money will go to the future he dreamed of having with you. he doesn’t care if it seems unrealistic or too ideal, he’s thanos and nothing was ever impossible for him.

╰₊✧ of course, you say yes and become a force to be reckoned with!

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x F!reader Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Very emotional at first, but then it lightens up and gets sweet. Light angst, heavy at the beginning, forgiveness and trying for each other, a little jealousy and hurt, lots of kissing, fingering, oral (f recieving), lots of sexual tension and feelings

💜 Word Count: this chap - 10k (long one)

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️Comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoy- A/N- I attempt to write a song, I am sure I failed be nice abt it lol! ✨️

Chapter Four 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Five

It has been two weeks since you spoke or saw Choso. He finally stopped texting and calling a few days ago, finally stopped showing up at your work every morning with that cup of coffee that you asked your coworkers to take instead. You don't even look or respond to him, it's too far gone, it's too much.

You don't respond to Satoru either, he was clearly there for fun, which is fine but you can't believe what you've done. After being so set on sex being this end all be all, Ino’s dumping you so soon after clearly fucked you up, and hopping in bed with Choso had been the biggest mistake.

You are out with Utahime at the club, dancing together and giggling, enjoying her so much, even as you miss Choso like you live and breathe. It's all too much, and you don't know if you can ever repair what has happened, to undo the tangled mess you both had become.

You're not putting fault all on him, but you're still hurt by him. You didn't go to his concert, you hate yourself for that, but it would hurt too much to see. You sent good luck necklaces to the three of them with a note saying you were sick (you especially hate to let the boys down too) but there's not much hope for it, not when you can't stomach facing him.

If you never kissed him, you maybe could have lived your life just fine, if you never had him look at you that way, if you never slept in his arms, you could have said it was friendship. But now, even your strong, fourteen year friendship is hopelessly gone.

Take a shot.

Dance.

Laugh 

Take a shot.

Take a selfie with Utahime.

Dance more.

Laugh.

Hollow laughter, laughter that rings just wrong, your eyes aren't as bright when you look in the mirror, but you think you can puzzle together the pieces.

Men flirt.

You ignore it.

Have a drink now.

Dance under the strobe lights.

Laugh.

You're almost human, or at least you're pretending to be, and it almost works, buzzed off your ass and dancing with her helps, giggling as you all walk out in your heels to your ride helps. Taking more selfies and giggling at the reacting on Insta helps, you feel good…

Well, almost.

Choso haunts all of your damn thoughts, it’s like you can’t even imagine things before him, like this gaping hole in your chest. You are tipsy when you get home, images flash as you walk through the door, Choso holding you against it, him on his knees in front of you. Then more images of Satoru, which make you sick.

You never thought actually doing something with the guy you had it bad for since forever would bring you down so badly, it made everything snap into place, things that didn’t make any sense in your mind. It was never just sex with Choso, not from the moment he kissed you and called you beautiful, because you know what ‘just sex’ is, Choso was beyond it.

Now there was nothing left between you.

Choso hearts your pictures, and something shifts, something almost makes you sick about it, not talking to him. You crave to just forgive and forget, to act like this friendship is fixable, to act unbothered, but you can’t just go back now. The decision was made when he first kissed you on that couch, when his tongue ring clicked on your teeth, when his big hands brushed against your waist.

You see his IG is Amber free, and hers is Choso free. You don't know what that means but you can't bring yourself to care anymore, you'd tried to make any sense of any of this and have failed. When you think too much about it, about your decisions, you sob so hard your eyes burn, your cheeks sticky.

You wash your face, put your hair up into a bun, you go back to all of your routines, without Cho Bear things don't really bring you the same joy, but finally you think you can let some of the heartache mend. Snatching up a book and your favorite plush, you snuggle on the couch, buzzed and dizzy. Luckily Satoru doesn't bother you, just a dick pic here and there, you roll your eyes at him.

He was good at what he did, fuck he was real good, but it was not what you wanted, it was what you thought you had to do, to prove something to yourself, that you were inexperienced and overthinking it. But, you were wrong. Choso pushes you to your worst, and you just can't let it continue, you can’t be that girl.

Choso calls, you go to hang up and accidentally hit answer, cursing quietly, hearing the hope in his voice as he says your name.

“What is it?” You ask, tone soft but cold, you haven't talked and don't want to.

“I know you hate me, and I don't blame you. You should.” You tear up as you hear his voice breaking. 

“I don't hate you, I just can't be in your life. I'm sorry.” You sniffle, hiccuping on a cry when you set your book down.

“Will we ever be friends again?”

“I don't think so, but it's not all your fault. We both fucked up.” Choso sighs over the phone, you imagine him in your mind's eye. Sexy and shirtless maybe? Low hanging sweats? Is his hair loose and long?

“I haven't talked to Amber. I never will again.” You blink now.

“It doesn't matter.”

“It does! It does. What I did was horrible to you.”

“It's over now. Don't dwell on this. I have to go.”

“Please, please… anything I could do to make you smile again. I hate that I caused this.” You sigh shakily as you hear his crying over the phone. It almost gets to you.

“I'm okay, I promise. Choso I'll always care, I'll always be rooting for you-”

“Please, please… please forgive me.”

“I do. I'm not angry. I'm sad.” You cover your face, choking on your sobs as he does. “I don't hate you not one bit.”

“I hate myself.” You shake your head and can't stop the sobs from wracking your body.

“I know that feeling well.” You both take a breath, both hating what you've lost. “But I promise I don’t hate you, I couldn’t. Take care, please.” Your voice is just a whisper, but he hears you.

“Please, anything, I will do anything, let me make it up. Let me fix it!? I know I'm stupid, I know I was wrong. Please.” His heartbreak in his voice makes it crack over the phone, you’re devastated then.

“Just let it go, okay? Let it go.”

“I don’t want to let you go. I-”

“Good night.” You hang up quickly, cutting off whatever words could wreck your resolve, your hands violently shaking, you press them between your thighs, staring as the phone rings.

Cho Bear.

Will you miss him forever?

*****

It’s been three weeks since you last spoke to Choso now, he quit calling finally, it’s sort of like it was when you were with Ino, when you two couldn’t keep your friendship, but it’s worse because you know what you could have. God, to have even been able to go on a date with him? To imagine building something so beautiful, but instead you’ve ruined it all.

You’re shocked when Megumi and Yuuji are knocking on your door, you stand there still when Yuuji barrels you with a big hug. You sigh, hugging him back, Megumi snakes an arm around you after as well, you almost tear up a bit, thinking of how close all four of you have been so long.

“I missed you two.” You say softly, shutting the door then. “What brings you all over here?”

Yuuji swipes a hand through his pastel locks. “What did Cho do so bad that it’s been three weeks of you ignoring him?”

“Yuuji…” Megumi says with a sigh, dark eyes looking at you seriously. “What he means to say is Choso misses you, bad.”

“He’s so depressed he won’t even play.” You blink at that, looking away then.

“Won’t play? When has Choso not played?”

“He won’t even leave his room aside from work.” Megumi says, your heart breaks further and further.

“I… we can’t be friends. I’m sorry, you two.”

“What, why!? You’ve been friends almost my entire life? As long as I can remember.”

“Yuuji…”

“Did you two…” Megumi trails off, you blush furiously then. “Oh.”

“Oh what? Did what?” Yuuji’s voice annoys Megumi clearly then.

“Tch, just stop.” He looks at you now, seriously. “Is it that bad?”

You nod quietly, sighing and shutting your eyes. “He wouldn’t wanna see me anyway.”

“That’s not true, not at all. Please, just come over, you don’t even have to hang out with him, just let him see you.” Yuuji begs, yanking on her hand now, pulling you towards him so his hands can rest on your shoulders. “You’re his best friend in the world, you can’t just not be one anymore.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Your tears start running before you can stop them, Yuuji frowns, Megumi brushes a hand up and down your back. “I don’t think me and Cho can fix it.”

“So start new.” Megumi’s voice stuns you. “Start fresh, whatever happened you two can get over it. Have you never had problems, fights?”

“Of course we have. I… I’m scared to even face him.” You cover your face and start crying then, letting the weeks of despair fall out with tears as they comfort you. “Guys I can’t.”

“Just spend time with all of us. I know it would brighten his day, you don’t know how bad it is.” Yuuji’s voice breaks just a bit, and then you realize, Choso must be hurting as much as you are.

“Let me get myself together and I’ll head over.” You say with a small smile, emotional as you think of seeing him again.

Could you all ever go back to being friends, when you are so in love with him… love, yes.

Love.

You’re hopelessly in love with your former best friend, how would you play it casual, how could you even face him?

*****

Choso can’t stand not seeing you, not hearing your voice or your little laugh, god he misses your scent, your presence, your everything. Even if he couldn’t see you, he used to swing by and give you that coffee, and you turned every cup down, not even acknowledging him. The heartbreaking call last week had him finally giving up, realizing he had done too much damage.

How could he hurt you like this?

He thinks back now, to all the signals you gave, to all the clues where he has been so clueless. Choso never got attention from girls, a shy guy, a nerdy guy, it’s been the past couple of years he’s gotten popular with his band. He didn’t realize Amber was that insane over him so quickly, and even so, he saw that hurt on your face before the incident in the car.

He told you one thing but did another, and of course you’re done with him, of course you probably went home with Gojo that night, how could he blame you? There you were, painting things clearly, and here he was, not understanding a thing you meant, like the words couldn’t compute, he couldn’t fathom you felt that way.

Choso has barely left his home for the past three weeks, but for the past week he has barely left his room, guitars unplayed, notebooks left unwritten and sprawled all around his room. He can barely eat or think of anything but you, aching to call you, to see you, but he knows he can’t anymore, he knows he’d just be doing more damage, how could he be so foolish?

The doors open of his room and he grimaces then, as his little brother keeps trying to energetically get him out of the house, to give him all this hope that you two could make up, as if it’s even possible. He blinks and covers his face with his plaid blanket.

“Go away.”

“Cho?” He hears your voice then, making him jump up out of bed, sheets all rumpled and a mess, thinking he’s dreaming.

But you’re there.

You’re here.

Your eyes look just a little puffy, your lips trembling as you see him, he tries to smooth his hair, knowing he probably looks terrible, he hasn’t even showered in days he’s just rotted away. Choso struggles to pull himself together, walking towards you then, and he sees it, you’re trembling, as if you can’t even handle this, seeing him again.

But he was wrong.

When you see him like this, a whole mess and so depressed, it destroys your heart, you can’t take it, even as much as you both had messed up here, he was your closest friend in the world. He was always by your side through your heartbreaks, and you were by his side, and now? You were both suffering alone, and for what, for the fear of not forgiving each other?

Choso doesn’t even know what you’ve done, he doesn’t know you were just as bad as him, maybe worse. No, you two don’t date, but it felt wrong, what both of you did, especially in your heart, you didn’t do it for fun, you did it for some petty sense of revenge, and now it’s hard to face him, but you do. You face your best friend who looks like a mess, with his eyes glimmering with tears.

It’s quiet then, Megumi clears his throat. “Let’s give you both a minute, maybe you can make him shower?”

Yuuji nods. “Please do.”

They leave, shutting the door to Choso’s room, a room the last time you were in that he had sex with you, but was it sex? Or did he make love to you?

How he’d stared into your eyes, cupped your face so gently, how he’d asked every moment if things felt good, if you were okay. The memories make you ache, and not just physically, they make you ache for all of him, for his sweet smile again, for him to just hold you in his arms. You’re just standing there, and so is he, you both open your mouths, then shut them.

He’s clenching his fists, stepping closer now, terrified you’ll just run away, but you don’t. You stay there, looking at him, as he feels emotions in his throat, as the tears begin to fall. He steps a little closer, and you let him, giving him the silent go ahead to approach you further, your chest rising and falling with your breaths as they come faster and faster.

Another step, and your boots are toe to toe with his bare feet, and Choso is looking down at you, his hands hovering just above your shoulders, as if he’s scared to touch you. You feel the sobs building in your chest now, not a word is spoken, but seeing your best friend who you love in tears, along with your own regrets makes you break apart.

“You’re here.” He says your name then, and you break into tears when he pulls you against him for a hug, those tight ones in his strong arms you’ve loved forever, you feel so safe, so right. He’s stroking your hair, pressing you against his chest as your arms wrap his chest. “I didn’t know if I’d… if I’d… see you…”

He’s sobbing out his words, you look up through your tears, seeing him, his stubble, his dark circles as you sniffle. “I’m here, Cho.”

“Feel like I’m dreaming of you.” He squeezes you so tightly, but you crave it, you love it, against him finally.

The room is quiet, aside from both of you quietly crying, sniffling and laughing softly when you look at each other. “You do need a bath, gosh.”

“Hush.” He’s smiling, that heartbreakingly sweet smile you’ve come to love, but you have to pull back a bit, taking a breath, eyes fluttering shut when he cups your face, like you’re precious. “I missed your pretty face.”

“Did you?” You tease softly, opening your eyes, burning from tears.

“I’m so sorry for everything, I am sorry I didn’t listen, that I hurt you.” You feel almost sick now, shaking your head. “I fucked it all up, I did-”

“We both did. I have to tell you something.” He nods then, shoving aside a bunch of things to clear you a seat in his gaming chair, pulling you by it, arms on either side of you as he sits on the bed.

“Anything.”

You take a breath, hoping it will help you, but you feel sick thinking of it. “I was intimate with Gojo.”

Choso blinks long lashes, frowning before nodding. “I figured, that night maybe you slept with him?” He tries to hide the hurt in his voice, but fails.

“I didn’t have sex but… um… oral.” You feel like sinking into the goddamn carpet below you, Choso clears his throat, looking away for a moment.

“I figured so, but was it because you wanted to? Was it because he’s Gojo, an old fling? Was it… for fun? Or… was it because I pushed you there?” His heartbreak is so clear it affects you physically, you’re shifting in the seat, fiddling with your hair, sighing nervously.

“It was my decision, but it was based on seeing her with you, it hurt so bad, but it’s no excuse. I acted on impulse and felt awful.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t feel bad, please.”

“Cho I… we…”

“It’s because of me.”

“It’s not!”

“You always try to defend me, even when I’m wrong, and I was so wrong here. You tried to tell me.”

You’re nodding through more tears, he rests his forehead on yours, as you both take shaky breaths. “I did try to tell you, but now I don’t know what to do, how can we go back to how it was?”

“I don’t know but I’ll do anything, be anything for you.” Your eyes lock, his a glittering violet, dark sooty lashes wet and spiky over them.

“Maybe we should start new?” You ask softly.

“As friends?”

“I don’t know, maybe something else.” Your brace yourself for impact, but his next words fill you with so much hope.

“How about… we go on a date.”

“A date?” You blink in confusion.

“A date, me and you, I am asking you on a date. A real one, a proper one, and we get to know each other as… maybe more.” Your heart races then, you feel it, the giddiness at the thought, but then the guilt.

“You wanna date me? After what I did?” Your voice is breaking, you’re no better than him really, maybe you’re worse? What he did casually, you did in retaliation.

“Oh, sweetie…” He brushes your hair back gently, it feels so good, so perfect then, in his room, with his touch. “You did nothing wrong to me, I think it felt wrong for you though?”

“It felt wrong, so wrong. I hate myself for it.” You’re just a breath away from his lips, but both of you hold that inch apart, you bite your lower lip, his eyes dart to it, but he stays that distance.

“What you did makes sense, I’m just sorry I made you feel you had to. I don’t want games, or hurting each other anymore, please. Let’s just have a date, and if you like me, we’ll do another.” You giggle then, the sound makes his heart swell, it makes him so fucking happy, to see how it lights up your face, even as he brushes tears away, thumbs with faded black polish barely on.

“So we’re going to take things slow?” You whisper, hands gliding up his chest, making him tense then.

“Yes, you deserve slow, you deserve to be treated right, and to choose what you want. If it’s me or not, I think we should try, what’s here, this connection? It’s…”

“Epic.” He smiles then, nodding, thumb brushing against your jaw now.

“I’d die to kiss you but I’d like to earn it, please.”

“It better be something nice, now. And you’re paying.” He grins, you’re wiping his tears now, running your hand through his dark messy locks.

“I’ll pay, don’t worry. Will you wear something that shows off that perfect body of yours?”

“I could be persuaded to. But you’ll be a gentleman.”

He nods, holding your little hand over his chest. “I will be.”

You feel it, the flutters in your tummy, at the thought of something like this, it seems so silly, but you’re giddy, hopeful. “So we’re… gonna go on a date.”

“Tonight.”

“You absolutely need to shower then, I can’t with all this.” You tease, he pulls you against him tightly, kissing your cheek, your temple, hugging you just so, you feel his heartbeat on your cheek.

“I wish you could get in there, fuck I miss every bit of you.” He exhales, you feel his words hit your core, you’re aching now, clinging to him.

“I miss it too.” You look back up now at him, smiling as you both just sit there, quietly. “I’m sorry Choso.”

“I’m sorry, angel. So sorry.” You nod, trying to pull yourself together then, brushing your cheeks with shaky hands. “I will not ever let you down again, even if you hate this date, even if you decide we should be acquaintances, just any part of your life you have me in, I’ll follow.”

“Shh.” You kiss his cheek now, cheeks that tinge pink under the light brush of your lips. “You text the time, and I’ll be ready. Oh, and you better shave.”

“I will.” You smile so pretty at him, as Choso’s mind whirls once you leave. A date with you, he needs it to be perfect.

You came to him, you were real.

Yuuji and Megumi burst in now, and Choso has this silly grin on his face, much to their relief. “You better not fuck this date up.”

“You all were listening!?”

“Just to some of it! Choso!”

Megumi snorts. “He’s gonna kill you, Yuuji.”

*****

Choso pulls up in his little Mustang, you stand there so nervous in the night, having gone over twenty outfits before landing on a little black dress, you figure you can’t go wrong with that. It’s lacy on the chest, it cinches just so in the waist and flares out flirtatious, along with a black jacket since the night has a chill. You see his mouth drop when he gets out of the car, making you flush.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly, like he’s in awe, it makes you feel beautiful then, Choso makes you feel so much, like you are so special.

“You look handsome, Cho.” You smile up at him, taking in his black dress shirt and slacks, fitting his muscled frame so sexy. “I’ve never seen you dressed up like this? Where’d you get these?”

“Put away from a wedding.” He admits, you giggle then, the sound brightening his world, as he takes in your gorgeous face. “Your makeup is beautiful too.”

“Oh thank you! Youtube tutorial.” He grins, brushing his fingers along the backs of your cheek then.

“You nailed that shit.”

“I missed the fuck out of you.” He nods, leaning so close, dying to kiss you, but you deserve the night, a night all about you, to take it slow, so he pecks a kiss on your hand, taking it in his. “Gentleman Cho?”

“Mmhmm. My lady.” He teases, your pulse flutters in your throat as he opens the car door for you now, making a show of dramatically bowing. His hand is on your thigh when he’s driving, yours brushes the backs of his knuckles, so much still left unsaid between you, but the comfort of each other overpowers it.

“Where are we going, Sir?” He exhales, not able to handle you calling him Sir because fuck the thoughts going through his head are insane now.

“We’ll be there soon, I think you’ll like it though?”

“I’m nervous.”

“Me too.” He admits, looking at you as the lights of cars drive by, reflecting against your pretty face as he drives you through the night, catching each one of your features just so every time. “Breathtaking.”

“Oh stop.” He hums a bit, big hands squeezing your thigh gently, thumb brushing along your inner thigh now, you shift just a bit. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being so pretty.”

“Whatever, you’re too much.” You roll your eyes and his laugh fills the car. “I hated it, Cho, being apart.”

He exhales now, grip tightening. “God, me too. I couldn’t bear it, not at least seeing you for that one minute in the morning, it hurt.”

You feel the pain in his voice, no matter how much he tries to hide it from you. “I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay, angel. I understand. You’re probably still hurting, but you’re here.”

“I am here. Terrified.”

“Me too.” Choso pulls up now, and you see it, a beautiful boat in the night, making you gasp at it.

“What!? Oh gosh, I expected a movie?”

“I thought we could have dinner here and just… talk? Relax together? Enjoy the view.” You nod excitedly, and soon you’re walking along the planks, alongside couples strolling arm and arm, Choso watches you carefully, as the breeze blows your hair around your face.

You look like art to him.

You are art to him.

“It’s gorgeous here my god!” Your hands are on the railing, looking up at the clear night sky, the gentle waves of the ocean rolling. Choso can’t keep his eyes off of you, when he agrees.

“Gorgeous.” You look to him then, heating up at his insinuation, at the way he’s looking at you so sweetly, so enamored. “I never meant to make you…”

“It’s fine, Cho.”

“No.” He tilts your chin up, with two long fingers, making you look up at him now. “I never meant to make you feel less than. Not good enough, or worthy enough, you’re worth everything.”

“Gonna make me cry right now?” You whisper, lips trembling, he aches to brush them against his, aches to make every part of you covered in his kisses.

“Just know I appreciate this night, even if it's only once.”

“Hush, Cho bear.” The nickname, so silly and cute, hits him with the nostalgia, of all the years you both were the best of friends, giggling and spending every moment together.

“I’ll hush then, let’s go eat.”

You find yourself across the table from him, you’re nervously eyeing the menu, eyes bulging out. “This is too much.”

“Stop it, please? I did really well for myself with the last show.” You hate that mention then, that you didn’t go. “Don’t be upset about it, I get it. We got your gifts which were very sweet you know.”

“I wanted to go so badly.” You look away, taking a breath, then he’s yanked his seat, dragging it across the floor with a screech, next to you, and you love it, his thigh brushing against yours, his sweet smile.

“It’s okay, I understand. I do. I know you have supported me always, I don’t know if I let you realize how much I appreciated it.”

“I can’t cry, I have on eyelashes, stop.” Choso laughs softly, leaning close and pulling up your menus.

“I’ve never gone on any kind of date to a fancy place, I wanted this to be with you, okay? It’s nothing. But…” He whispers then. “I have no clue what any of this stuff is?”

“Me either! No pictures!?” You lean over then to a couple near you, they smile at you both. “Any advice?”

“I picked the filet mignon, at least I knew the word.” She says, you giggle, nodding then and peeking at Cho.

“That one?” Soon you’re giving the waitress your order, and you can’t help but notice that she’s flirting with him, but instead of how he’d usually be sweet and hopelessly clueless, he wraps an arm around your waist, as if showing that he’s here with you.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in one gesture.

Ino picking his ex over you, Satoru having picked random girls over you, and a serious lack of dating has made your shitty limited experience have you extra insecure, something you realized this past month. Choso even just calling you his friend, though it was true, had hurt deeply once you were intimate.

You’re trying to take it slow, one moment at a time, but god he feels so good, against you, with you. He’s cutting at your steak and feeding you little bites, you both sip wine and just enjoy each other as the boat sways through the water. It’s unlike any date you’ve had, you don’t have to get to know him, don’t have to impress him. He’s Choso Kamo, the man you’ve adored forever.

“So it’s a date, what’s your favorite color?” He teases, you snort in laughter, rolling your eyes.

“Oh stop like you haven’t known since middle school, it’s blue. What’s your favorite color, emo boy, black?”

“Emo boy!?” You are both losing it with laughter, with his every little touch, his sweet smile, he carves his damn place further in your heart.

The dessert comes, a chocolate lava cake with a scoop of ice cream, and you laugh at his messy eating, the way he gets chocolate on the corner of his mouth. “You’re so messy.”

“So were you, I remember.” His husky tone makes your mouth drop open, desire clutching you tightly, especially when he licks it off, you can’t help but remember the taste of him, the feeling of his body against yours, the way that tongue just fucking did things.

You clear your throat, trying to shake the thoughts away. “Not gentlemanly, now is it?”

“It’s not, I’m sowwy.” He gives you puppy dog eyes, and you can’t take how cute he is then. You laugh softly, wiping a smudge of chocolate from his face with your thumb. “What’s so funny?” He asks, licking his lips.

“You are.” You reply, unable to stop smiling.

“Am I?” You nod, he’s so close then, his hand on your thigh under the table cloth, you have insane thoughts, what would it be like for him to play with you, right here?

“Shit.”

“Shit what?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, running fingers through your locks now.

“Open up.” Why does everything sound so attractive!? You do as he commands, opening your mouth for him to fork a piece of the chocolate cake, you chew thoughtfully as he watches you with avid attention. 

“Food on my face?”

“N-no. Just so pretty.” He’s blushing now, it takes everything not to completely melt, but you’re still a little scared, a little hurt.

When he’s driving you back and you’re in the car, it also takes everything not to jump him then and there, not to let everything overwhelm you. His hand rests on your knee, smiling over at you when you pull up, the tension is still there, the words so unspoken, you want to say more, do more, but you know you shouldn’t yet.

“Would you like to go to our concert this weekend? I would really love it if you came… I may have a surprise I’m working on.”

“I’d love to, Cho. I miss seeing you guys.”

“Megumi and Yuuji really miss you too.” The guilt eats at you, Choso notices, frowning, dark brows drawn together. “I don’t say that to make you feel bad, they understand somewhat.”

“We fucked up so bad.” You blink rapidly, suddenly the car is too small, your hand going to the handle. “I should say good night.”

“Let me.” Choso is opening your door then, taking your hand in his, and you feel it, those butterflies swirling in your tummy, the desire for him in every way possible, as you give him a little tremulous smile. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“You can indeed, Sir.” You’re smiling so big you can’t stand it, you both are on your porch now, your hand still in his, which he brings to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. “You’re like an Emo Disney Prince, Cho.”

“A what!?” You’re giggling again and he snorts in laughter, covering his face. He laughs so hard, and soon you’re just both laughing, looking at each other. He cups your face then, making your pulse race, your laughter easing now, as you stare at him. “You look so beautiful like this.”

“Snorting in laughter?” You ask with a quirk to your lips, he nods then, brushing his thumb on the apple of your cheek.

“Much better than tears.” There is so much between you both, a part of you wants to run inside and hide, another part wants to drag him in and kiss every part of him, but your hand goes to his chest, feeling his heart racing just like yours, just feeling him, being with him.

“I love seeing you smile. I can’t believe we ruined it.” Your whisper breaks him, he shakes his head then, leaning even lower.

“We didn’t ruin anything, maybe we… changed things?”

“You think? Can you… forgive me too?”

“Oh angel, there’s nothing to forgive. We both made a mess of this and hurt each other, but I never once was mad at you.” You step even closer now, swallowing nervously, your hands sliding up to wrap around his neck now, one of his arms wraps your waist. 

 “Thank you for a beautiful evening, Choso Kamo.” You murmur, a little smile on your lips.

“Thank you for being you.” He whispers, the warmth of his palm seeping through your dress, making you gasp at it, just the brush of his fingers down your back ends you damn near. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling his breath against your skin, waiting for it, waiting for his kiss.

But he just watches you, with your lips pursed, and your eyes shut, his heart fucking stopped now. He knew it, that he loved you, he had suspected it for so long, but then and there he knew he was madly in love with you. Part of him wants to give you a sweet kiss, the other wants to fuck you so good you forget Gojo ever touched you, warring parts in his mind.

His thumb tilts your chin up, and he pauses. “May I kiss you?”

Your eyes open in surprise. “You may.”

As his lips brush against yours, it’s at first sweet and lingering, but then it is like a spark ignites a flame, a passionate desperate kiss that you both crave forms, tongues dancing together, tasting the sweetness of the desert on both of your lips, the tart of the wine, and tasting each other.

Your hands are in his hair, his arms around your waist as he bends over you, you’re both lost in it, lost in each other. His thumbs trace little circles on the small of your back, making you arch into him, his kisses becoming more insistent, more needy. You feel it, the desire coiling in your tummy as he presses you even closer against his hard body, as one of his hands entangles in your hair.

You break apart for a moment, both of you panting, staring at each other, his eyes are full of desire, his pupils blown wide, and you see in his own eyes your face, lips parted, your own eyes lidded with desire. You both ease back, he rests his forehead on yours, desire coursing through his veins.

“It’s taking everything in me not to go inside, to have your taste all over me.” His words end you almost, you’re panting softly, nodding then.

“I know, I want it too.” He kisses you again, softer and easier, taking a deep breath and stepping back, leaving just a couple of inches between you now.

“I want to do things right this time. I want you to feel you’re put first. Please, don’t cry, angel.” You can’t help it, it’s everything you’ve wanted and needed to hear from him, tears streaming silently.

“They’re happy tears this time.” You manage to whisper, he exhales then, brushing them gently, kissing your cheeks.

“I hope soon I can ask you to be my girlfriend.” Your heart stutters then, he tenses as if he’s said something wrong. “Not yet I mean… if…”

“N-no, I’d like it soon. I agree we shouldn’t go further tonight though.” He nods quickly, kissing you once more and standing straight, clearing his throat, he’s rubbing the back of his neck all awkward and cute, the Choso you’ve known forever. “You’re still you, hmm?”

His lips turn up a bit. “I’m still me. You’re still you.”

“I am still me. Text me the details of the concert? I’ll be there.” He beams brightly at that.

“Yeah!?”

“Yeah. Good night, Choso. Thank you.”

“Good night.” After he’s watched you go inside, Choso is covering his face, breath coming so quick, he’s kissed you, and not just as some prelude to sex, no he kissed you after a date.

Everything in him is melting, things aren’t completely lost like he thought, it’s like this beautiful rainbow has entered his world again, illuminating the darkness that losing you had left behind. He’s not even sure he deserves your forgiveness, but he knows he will make sure he earns it properly. He stares at your shut door for some time before he leaves, the longing making him ache.

You’re covering your face, a huge fucking smile on it, as your back is against the door, then you have a hand on your heart, feeling it beat again, for the first time in weeks. You take off your heels, unzipping your dress then, heading to the bathroom to start taking off your makeup, mind whirling. Choso wasn’t lost, and maybe you weren’t lost either.

You try not to get your hopes too high, to not be too quick to think everything will be fine, you both hurt each other deeply, and you have a lot to go, but tonight made the dark bright again, made you realize Choso was your brightness. When you’re in bed, snuggled under the blankets, your phone buzzes and you look quickly to see it, a text from Choso.

Cho Bear: I hope you have a good night, but I have to admit… I’d die to have you in my arms.

His text hits hard, it hits brutal, it was only one night he’d held you like that, but you can’t get it out of your head, how it felt perfect. Like you were supposed to be there, safe and protected, cherished. Even now to think of him holding you brings emotions forwards, the longing in his words matching yours.

You: That would be lovely, I enjoyed that night.

Cho Bear: I enjoyed it too much, especially watching you sleep.

You: Creepy sleep stalker!

Cho Bear: A little bit.

You’re giggling again, eyes heavy now, and he sends the details of the concert coming up while you yawn.

You: I can’t wait, good night Cho.

Cho Bear: Good night, pretty.

You also see a text from Utahime, asking for details, you’re half asleep with one eye open as you text her back that it was so fun. She had encouraged you to go and give it a try, and you’re so happy you did. She gives you a million heart emojis then, making you smile sleepily.

To be in Choso’s arms, you don’t know if you’ll get there any time soon, but in your dreams, there you are.

*****

“She came!” Yuuji exclaims that weekend, you and Choso were back to him bringing you that coffee at work, in fact it came along with a little peck on your cheek every morning. It would make you think of him all day, it would put this goofy smile on your face, but aside from that, you haven’t seen him.

The concert is at a very popular club in the city, and it’s packed, there is Choso’s band and a couple others there, when you walk in and you see them. Yuuji waves excitedly, Megumi gives a little nod, and Choso brightens up, calling your name and waving you up to the stage then.

“You came!” He picks you up in his arms then, a giant bear hug that makes you feel so small as he lifts you up, you hug him around the neck as your feet dangle off the ground, smiling against his cheek.

“Of course I did, I couldn't miss it.” He eases you down as some onlookers come, one including Amber, who makes Choso tense as she strides up.

“Choso, I haven’t talked to you! In forever…”

“Is that your girl?” Another girl asks, Amber laughs then.

“They’re friends.”

You gulp now, panicking as several people come around curiously, and you want to fall into a fucking hole, terrified of what his answer will be, you’re not together yet, so whatever he says…

“No, she’s my girl.” You blink up at him, gasping, he eases you down and wraps an arm around your waist as the whispers start.

“Your girl?” Amber asks, arms crossed with a scowl.

“She’s pretty!” Someone else says, making you flush, snuggling up to Choso, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“You don’t have to do this.”

He looks at you then, shaking his head. “I want to.” He murmurs, pressing a little kiss on your lips in front of everyone, Megumi and Yuuji are grinning as the girls are babbling, and people from the crowd ooh and ahh. But Amber?

“Really? Her?” Choso tenses then, glaring over at her.

“Yeah, her, what’s that mean?”

“Cho, it’s okay…”

Amber stomps up to him then, leaning close. “You forgot the last time we hung out?”

“I’d love to forget. You can go on if you mean to insult her, because damned if she’s not perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Why don’t you go on?” Megumi says then, eyeing a bouncer. “Or we could have you escorted?”

“Whatever.” She grumbles, dragging her friends out with her, and suddenly you can breathe just a bit, looking up at him.

“You didn’t have to say all that, it’s okay really.”

“It’s not okay for her to talk that way. She’s nothing.” He cups your face, forgetting the audience right along with you, until Yuuji clears his throat, and you smile at them, tummy doing fucking flips at how good you feel.

“Thanks Megumi.” You say softly, he shrugs.

“She’s a bitch.” You snort a bit, covering your mouth, looking up at Choso again, who has a more serious expression.

“Is it fine I called you my girl?” He asks, you feel it, his nerves then, you nod with the biggest smile, and he exhales. “Okay, good, because I want it to be true.”

“Maybe it will be, let’s see this surprise.” You tease, pecking a kiss on his lips softly again. “I can’t wait.”

As you’re sipping on a drink you watch them start their set, you’re right up front and center, watching Choso’s finger strum the guitar like they’re made to do it, he leans close to the mic and starts singing. His voice resonates through the entire room, earning everyone’s avid attention, including of course, yours.

You watch him intently, as he performs songs you’ve known forever, you’re cheering and dancing and he keeps smiling at you, keeps looking at you. You feel so special then, more than you can ever remember feeling, the fear dissipating with every honeyed flick of his fingers on the guitar, at moments you shut your eyes and just let it wash through you.

You head to get another drink as they prep for the next song, when suddenly there’s a hushed quiet when Choso speaks, making you turn back around and stare at him.

“This song was written in a rush, these two had to learn it so fast, they probably wanna kick my ass.” He says, the crowd laughs a bit, you’re headed back through them with your drink, smiling up at Choso curiously. “But it’s dedicated to someone special, someone I’ve known forever, but who has become very special to me.”

He says your name then.

You can hardly remember your name before he spoke it, before he looked at you like that, and he’s pointing at you, earning the crowd parting just a bit for you. You feel the heat of everyone’s gaze, hear their murmurs, but you’re too entranced and in shock to really see anything but violet eyes across from you on the stage.

“I hope you… I know you’ll get it.” He says then, hoping the lights on the stage didn’t make his blush show too much, then he begins playing, as do Megumi and Yuuji, a melodic tune that sounds nothing like you’ve heard from them.

A/N: *disclaimer I am no songwriter, be easy on me lol*

When the world fades to gray and all I can see is you,

When the nights blend to days and all I feel is you.

The smile on your face it dances across all my dreams,

Feelings so raw it’s like I’m bursting at the seams.

The melody is soft, it’s not their usual rock music, it’s a ballad so beautiful it brings tears to your eyes, hearing the hoarseness of Choso’s voice as he pours his heart into every word. You sniffle and take a shaky sip, trembling as everyone watches you both in wonder, but it is just you two, isn’t it? Hasn’t it always been?

I’d die to have you in my arms every night,

Oh what I’d do to hold you so tight.

To press kisses along your lips,

To touch you with fingertips.

You’re heating up now, breathless as you continue to watch, utterly enamored, it’s as if you feel these words like a physical touch, overheating your body. You break apart that last barrier of fear, piece by piece, because you can’t just make this up, you can feel it, all of him, in all his sincerity.

In a crowded room all I see is you,

Praying at night for all my dreams to come true.

A girl with a smile that can brighten my heart,

A girl with eyes that tear me apart.

Your eyes are a mess, you’re absolutely sure that there is makeup running down your face, as he melody continues, as he starts pouring his heart to you, as he makes you smile, as he makes you melt. You’re trembling so hard your knees nearly knock, aching to be held by him, for him to never let go. You know you have to take things slow, but at this moment it feels impossible.

Feelings I’ve always known,

Feelings I’ve never shown.

She’s the girl that you write songs for,

She’s the girl that I’ve longed for.

By my side through it all,

Never knew we could fall.

The realization that I have come to,

That there’s nobody but you

At that moment you’re a mess, he ends the song but before he can finish you’ve jumped on the stage, he swings his guitar behind him, and you kiss him, pulling him down to you as everyone claps for him. It’s thunderous, but you don’t hear shit, just your pulse racing, just Choso’s heart thudding, he pulls back with tears in his eyes, breaths coming so quick.

“Choso, I hear you. I feel you.” You whisper, brokenly then, and he kisses you deeply, arms wrapping around you.

“I do mean it, I mean it all angel.” You nod, swiping at your tears and smiling so brightly, he leans close, cupping your face, smiling.

“Finish the set.” You whisper, giggling then as you hop off the stage, everyone is enamored as Choso clears his throat, and they start their usual fare. You head to the bathroom, slamming into Amber then, who scoffs at you.

“You, hmm?” She demands, earning your glare.

“What’s your problem with me? It’s not like you and Choso dated.”

“No? Well he sure had his cock in my mouth.”

You tense now. “And? We weren’t together.”

“Don’t you think…” She leans close. “That if he really wanted you, he’d have been with you this entire time?”

“I…” Your mind whirls with doubt, she smiles all nasty at you.

“No worries, I got Gojo’s number, maybe I’ll take your other guy?”

“Psh, like I care about Gojo. Please do, maybe he’ll quit sending me his dick pics.” You say, smirking at her then, she is furious at you.

“He said you’re just friends, you know.”

“Yeah well, I don’t care what he said. It doesn’t matter. We’re not ‘just friends’ any longer, so I expect you to back the fuck off hmm?” You step right to her, damn near nose to nose, and she backs up just a step.

“We’ll see about all that.” She walks off now, leaving you shaky as you peer into the mirror, you feel sick at thinking of them together, once you pull yourself together somewhat you step out, seeing her all clinging to his arm.

Choso shrugs her off though, glaring, and when he sees you he starts walking your way, filling you with so much relief, it’s like you can breathe again. “Was she a bitch to you?”

“Yeah, she’s really salty.” Choso snorts then, kissing you gently for everyone to see. “I hate that you were with her.”

“I hate you were with him.” He murmurs, leaning close to your ear. “How slow are we taking this?”

“Mmm…��� You trail your hands down his strong arms. “We said slow…”

“I could eat you out really slow?” Your eyes shoot up to his, god you haven’t been touched that way in so long, and by him especially, you feel his words shoot between your thighs. “I want to feel you cum so badly, watch your pretty face, your last time cumming was…”

“Thinking of you.” You cut him off, surprising him then. “It was playing with myself, thinking of you.”

“Fuck…” Choso kisses you deeper, pressing you against the wall right by the bathroom, his hands on your waist, pressing in. “I’ll take it slow, whatever it is you want to do, I will.”

“You wanna lick me slow huh?” You’re giggling at the thought. “Lick me where, Choso?”

“You know where, you’re so bratty right now.” You can’t stop your giggles, making him desire you even more. “Don’t I owe you a couple orgasms?”

“Maybe you do. Two I think.”

“So I’ll give you two, and we won’t go further… yet.”

“Where?” He exhales now.

“I want you home… I mean… my home.”

“Staying the night is a lot really quick, this is like our second date?” You tease, he smiles shyly then.

“We can just cuddle, we can do anything. Please just come home… over to my home…”

“You’ve said that twice.” He is a blushing mess, it melts you. “I’ll come over for a night cap then.”

“Yeah!?”

You laugh, nodding. Soon you’re pulling into Choso’s home, and it’s a little nerve wracking. Then you remember the last time you were in his bed, you don’t know how you hold back. Choso’s bending down, slipping off your heels, pecking kisses up your thighs then, earning your gasp as you’re dripping wet in your panties.

“Wanna get more comfy?” He asks softly, you nod shyly then, and soon you’re only wearing one of his soft band tees, coming out to see Choso has made you a drink, he hands it to you as you walk in the kitchen, leaning on the counter then. “You’re so beautiful.” He says, brushing your hair back.

“You’re beautiful, Cho bear.” He shakes his head with a little eye roll.

“You always sucked at taking compliments.”

“I know, ugh.” You sip on the drink in the quiet kitchen then, he bends over you, arms on either side of the counter.

“Do you know how badly I wanna fuck any memory out of your head of him?” His words hit you violently, your pussy throbs around nothing. “I won’t yet, but if you think I don’t you’re insane.”

“I… you…”

“I’ll settle for licking the memories out of your pretty head.” You can’t stop the whine from the back of your throat then, only urging him on, he’s got you lifted on his counter then, shocking you. “Let me take care of you, angel, yeah? Just like that first night, when I first tasted you.”

“Please.” Is all you manage, and Choso’s slipping up your shirt, moaning when he finds you bare, sinking to his knees then, he’s so tall it puts him right at face height with your pussy, which his breath alone makes you jerk. “Cho…”

“So fucking perfect.” He swipes a tongue up your slit, your hands enwrap in his dark silky locks, as he shoves your thighs apart, tongue ring hitting your clit. “Mmm… so yummy, fuck.” He huffs now, black blunt nails pressing into the plush of your thighs as he slips his tongue up again.

“Cho!” You whimper, already pathetic, he watches the arousal pool from your little hole, making him throb, cock so hard he can’t take it. He starts drinking you up, the slurping sounds in the kitchen erotic, as his barbell keeps flicking over and over. “Oh my god…”

You’re already close, it’s so quick but he knows you, he knows your pussy, where you like it, what pressure, and when he’s sucking your clit in his mouth, humming on it and watching you, you fall apart. You can’t hold back at all, cumming so much it’s a mess, all over his face, which he eagerly drinks while you’re yanking his hair so hard it hurts, but it makes him harder.

“Good girl, that’s it.” Choso murmurs when he pulls back, you’re blinking vision back, blinded then, taking several breaths as he leans up, slipping a finger in your slick walls, which clench him. “So tight, fuck… soaking me, huh angel?”

“Mnh…” You can’t manage a word, hearing your greedy pussy sucking his fingers so deep. He’s curling it up, leaning to you, lips brushing yours, you lick yourself right off him, hands shaking as you clutch his shirt. “M-missed it… f-fuck…”

“I missed you, missed feeling you.” Choso’s words, his finger curling sends you back over that edge, your eyes roll back, head falling, he kisses down your throat then, slipping another finger. “Feel that stretch, huh baby?”

“Ngh!” You nod, gasping when he’s back down, using his fingers and his mouth at the same time, bringing you higher and higher, all while violet, dilated eyes watch your every expression. Choso’s pulsing himself then, as your walls flutter around him, as your slick pools down his wrist, so slippery now, all while he drinks you, watching you fall apart.

You’re shaking violently, thighs closing around his head as the orgasm washes over you, as the coil in your tummy releases, your scream is so loud your voice breaks in the middle. You’re sobbing when he’s done, it’s so fucking good, gasping for breath, he places a kiss on your pussy then, groaning at it, and you desperately yank him to you, kissing him.

He moans, deepening the kiss, and he feels it then, the sticky hot cum from eating you out start pouring in his sweats, he panics at it, pulling back, and looking at your cock drunk face, eyes dilated so much he can barely see the iris. Your cunt is drooling, he leans down to lap it up again, whimpering as his cock pushes out more cum, picturing it in you.

“Cho, lemme take care of-”

“Ah, no… I already…”

He leans up now, blushing furiously, and your eyes dart down, seeing it now, soaking wet spot on his sweats, sticky white pooling through the material. “I didn’t touch you?”

“You didn’t have to.” He smiles nervously, exhaling. “I’m sorry-”

“No! No… it means you really love it.” You whisper, biting your lip as he eases you off the counter. Choso cups your face carefully, words of love threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know if you’re ready yet.

“Loving it is an understatement, watching you cum? Your pretty face? The way your body shakes? I can’t explain it. And your taste, how wet you get… I couldn’t take it, it just… happened.” You giggle now, earning his glare. “Are you laughing at me? That cruel, hmm?”

“No, I’m just… it’s so cute!”

“Cute? Ugh.”

“I’m sorry it is sweet, and cute… and flattering.” You kiss him over and over, uncaring as his sticky lap presses against your tummy. “I can clean you up?’

“Oh god, I won’t make that right now. No, I want it for you, tonight.”

“Like the first night?”

“Mhmm.” He kisses your forehead now, exhaling. “Let me clean up and we can cuddle, if you want?”

“I want.”

Soon you’re back somewhere you never thought you’d be again, Choso Kamo’s strong arms, he’s got one wrapped around you as you lay on his chest, trailing little circles mindlessly against his bare skin, over his tattoos. You know the story behind them all, you went to him with most of them, but you can’t help but find them incredibly sexy.

His other hand brushes up and down your spine, making you shiver and hum just a bit, you lean your chin up, looking at him then, feeling the words threatening to spill, but not just yet. “I’m still scared, Cho bear.”

He frowns at that, sighing. “I know, angel. I know.”

“I want to say more, but…”

“You can wait, we have all the time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You kiss him and smile, blissed out from his presence, from the pleasure he brings you.

“How about another date?” You nod eagerly, smiling against his neck as you snuggle up to him.

“I’d love that. I’ll pick it?”

“You’ll pick it.”

“I hope Amber will fuck off by the way?”

“You can beat her up?”

“I could.” He moans at that, yanking you closer.

“Hot.” You both giggle. “I didn’t enjoy it with her. Physical and nothing else? It felt so…”

“Empty.”

“Yeah, empty. But fuck I can’t forget the hurt on your face, and I hate it still, that it made you…”

“Cho…”

“I hate him, I’m sorry. It’s like he knew you were upset and thrived off it.” You wince now, shaking your head.

“He just wanted fun, I doubt it.”

“You’re too sweet sometimes. If I see him? I can’t make promises.”

“You’ll kick his ass for my honor huh?” He chuckles.

“For lots of reasons, starting with high school. Even then, I wish…”

“It’s okay, we have now. Let’s not focus on back then.” He wishes he could change it all though, take away your pain, but he’s so thankful, he nods now, kissing your head and continuing his gentle touches. “This feels so perfect. It’s scary how perfect.”

“It is perfect. Good night, angel.” You yawn, smiling and shutting your eyes, snuggling deeper as you fall into a slumber, the tentative happiness making you sleep quickly, though there’s fear in both your hearts, of what could come between you.

“I… love you. I’m in love with you.” Choso whispers, as he hears you lightly snore, making his heart swell in his chest, hoping one day soon he can tell you.

A/N- I know the last chap was HEAVY with the angst, but they had to go through the worst and a seperation, truly to find each other. The story isn't over, and not done yet, but I hope you're enjoying it even if it got dark for a bit here! I look forward to your comments

Taglist: @erencvlt @antisocialinlw @aquamarine001 @maskedpacific @mima0127 @yxnnu @lana18918 @bigbird789  @angellliqua @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @staygoldsquatchling02 @bts-psycho @lillycore @mysticalnightbeliever @wystriz @tokyolhtl @imabyssa @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @ivyvenus333 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sparklydeerface @10honeybee01 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lavender-hvze @angelcakkess @bellasworlds-stuff @pauliiis-stuff @mysouleaten @city-of-lovers @teddiiursula @flowerbbybananamilk @anna-reader-blog @loveisnanami @nymphsdomain @mollyrocks420 @ilovemrsilver @kitzuuuu @skzynct

perma tags: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @cuntphoric

(rest tagged in comments!)

[vidavalor]

*pops up in cloud of smoke; dusts off jacket a la Beez* Hi there! 💕I was paged in the comments by @turquoisedata & am glad that I was because I love the stuff you were mentioning in your first paragraph. I don't think it has much to do with why we're getting a 90 minute movie-- that's just an industry-standard length thing-- but you've tickled my brain on the other, multiple references to ninety as a quantity of something. Let's see what kind of word history magic I can stir up here that might be of use.

Ninety is a mix of the number nine and an evolution of tig, which meant ten. It comes from the fact that, obviously, ninety = nine groups of ten. So, if we're looking at what's going on with ninety, we're really actually looking mostly at the wordplay and other meanings of the number nine with a dash of the number ten, and we'd want to go to history for that and where it could tie into Crowley & Aziraphale's story & the story as a whole.

Let's do this backwards and start with ten because it might make more sense that way. The number ten, in Roman numerals, is the letter X. This is why the name that Crowley and Aziraphale gave to the bookshop that is noted in Furfur's copy of Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth is Angelic Embassy X.

It's a layer of humor in the scene when Crowley storms out of the bookshop, all upset, after the argument with Aziraphale in 2.01: Oh, I can't do this, I'm just so angry [an ang is a fish]... One, two... ten!

So, why Angelic Embassy X?

The letter X means a whole variety of things: it can refer to something considered "wrong" in the view of someone else. It can refer to something experimental-- which we know the bookshop embassy is, as it's really the only thing like it. It can be used between two or more names to refer to a collaboration. It's shorthand for adult things (*Gabriel voice* pornography) and it also is part of the shorthand of xo, referring to hugs and kisses. In math, x refers to an independent variable.

The address to the bookshop also contains the number ten. Since Aziraphale has basically built the street for the last few hundred years, he probably was able to pick the number so we can count that as part of the wordplay, too (and we should anyway, as it's a detailed kind of story 😉...) The address, according to Demon's Guide, is 105 Whickber Street.

There are other angles to explore with the number 105. (Anyone else who is into Buddhism or used to watch Lost is currently like if only it were 108! 😂) There might be things I'm missing but number 105 is not really that interesting and neither, honestly, is the number five from an etymological point of view. There are aspects to the number five's history though, that are really interesting and relevant to Crowley & Aziraphale.

You could get into iambic pentameter in poetry and its ties to Shakespeare, for one option. There are mathematical aspects to it that could be seen as fun applied to the story-- it's a safe prime number, for instance. There are ties to the Bible but Good Omens is a wordplay-happy religious satire... I'd look at the words with everything first before I got too deep into Biblical lore. It's not irrelevant but after a long time happily pouring over this story, the words >>>>>>>>>> everything else. Stuff from the Bible that doesn't fit with the wordplay or the themes isn't really relevant in a story that is only really using it to skewer religion anyway.

I'm sure that the real joke with 105 Whickber Street here is that 105 is 1 + 0 + 5 = 6. It's a reference to the number six, which comes from the Latin verb sex. Off the top of my head, other instances of wordplay around six/sex are in the six shots of espresso innuendo, which I looked at over here, as well as Aziraphale grinning flirtatiously with the whole "I have in my hand a sixpence..." bit in 1941. On the farthing, the other coin? A nightingale-wren bird. 😉 Aziraphale is flirting about their secret language in that secret language in that already-meta-in-ten-different-ways scene.

And so! We come to the number nine.

Nine is an odd prime number. You can multiply it by any number and the sum of the numbers you receive will always be divisible by the number nine. Because of how magical-seeming a number it is, it factors into different cultural histories. Of what I know of those things, the most relevant here off the top of my head would probably be The Nine Orders of Angels/Christian Angelic Hierarchy and The Nine Muses.

Good Omens has its own ideas about the power structure of angels in Heaven but it is taking the names of the levels of rank an angel could have from Christian theology and that has nine orders-- thrones, dominions, virtues, principalities, etc.. Good Omens has put its own spin on it for the purpose of its satire but Crowley & Aziraphale cheekily using wordplay around the number nine when it relates to Heaven in this way would make sense.

The other thing that's relevant is probably the Greek Muses, of which there were nine. The Muses are the goddesses of science, literature, and the arts. From them, the word muse evolved to mean artistic inspiration. There is wordplay around The Muses in Good Omens in the show and the novel in a few places, my favorite of which is a winking use of a word that derived from muse, which is amusing, used several times across both the book (the Milton Keynes paragraph, in particular, cracks me up) and in the series.

Something that is amusing, in the etymology-happy vocabulary of Crowley and Aziraphale and Good Omens as a whole, is both humorous and artistically inspiring. All art and music and literature is inspiring in many different ways to Crowley and Aziraphale. The two of them are both artists in their own rights and both really are the Muses themselves-- inspirational and influential goddesses of art and science and literature.

One of the ways that they find such things to be artistically inspiring😉, though, is probably best summed up by...

Dear Diary, Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh and he insisted that I visit a graveyard at midnight! He said he had come upon something he thought would amuse me.

Would someone please write me Crowley's Archangel Gabriel jerkoff fantasies, I'm begging you. 😂

Anyyyyyway... that's maybe some of the reasons why they like the word ninety. Aziraphale might have had more (but not less) than ninety guineas in his wallet on their date in 1827 but he phrased the amount using words in their vocabulary. (Crowley was out of it at the time but, amusingly, not so much so that he wasn't also wording-- pretend and proper are Ineffable Husbands Speak/nightingale language vocab words.) Crowley can't do "90 miles per hour in central London" for reasons including he might hit someone and also the ninety stuff we've looked at and also that the word mile is one that has deep ties to ancient Rome. (See: fish-related meta linked earlier in post.)

Aziraphale getting his driver's license "90 years ago" is wordplay that's also riffing on some aspects of literal things. In the later scene when Aziraphale gets into the car, alone, to take it to Edinburgh, we see him basically magically getting the car to drive itself as opposed to actually manually driving it.

Aziraphale can drive the car with his mind, magically, and he probably has a piece of paper from the British government that says he can legally drive a car but he didn't actually go get a driver's license 90 years earlier. He doesn't really know how to manually drive the literal car-- The Bentley-- but he's not really talking about The Bentley in the "90 years ago" scene.

Aziraphale is continuing the sexual metaphor from S1 where he's the bookshop (which is an overall metaphor in the story, as well-- it's why the whole plot becomes will the demons get into the bookshop? in S2, metaphorical for a mental health breakdown). In this analogy, if he's the bookshop, then Crowley is The Bentley.

Aziraphale is poking gentle fun at the fact that he has long since been licensed to drive "The Bentley"-- Crowley-- but Crowley is reluctant to let Aziraphale drive the literal car. He's proposing they trade, as they always otherwise do in bed-- Crowley can take the bookshop and Aziraphale can take the car. The whole mock-bickering over taking the car versus going by train is really about which one of them is topping the next time they have sex.

Crowley bought the literal Bentley in the 1930s, which is 90 years ago when Aziraphale says that line in S2. So, if Aziraphale says he's been licensed to drive the car since Crowley first decided he wanted to own one, then this is really Aziraphale saying he's been licensed to drive Crowley (has had his enthusiastic consent) since Crowley first decided he'd like to go for a ride with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale passed that driver's test with flying colors! As he says, back then, they (Crowley) didn't even require tests but Aziraphale insisted.😉 The original meaning of require was actually inquiry-- it was to ask.

Back then, long before the invention of the car lol, when Aziraphale first was granted permission to "drive The Bentley", Crowley wasn't the one who asked. Aziraphale, as he says, insisted. Original meanings: to pursue, to urge, to encourage.

As we saw back in S1:

The Number 90

I couldn’t sleep last night, and for some reason, “‘How much have you got in your wallet, angel?’ ‘About 90 Guineas’,” kept running through my head. This morning, I was still thinking about it, along with, “You can’t drive 90 miles an hour in central London,” and, “I passed my driving test 90 years ago.” That’s weird. That’s a lot of random mentions of the number 90.

And of course, nothing in this show is random. I don’t know anything about numerology, so I did a quick Google search to see if I could find something. There wasn’t a lot, but it looks like the number 90 is supposed to be an angelic number, and represents embarking on a spiritual journey to achieve enlightenment and inner peace. It is a reminder to be more philanthropic, kind, and compassionate. Which kind of makes sense, given the contexts in which it was mentioned and Aziraphale’s general character arc. But, that’s still kind of random.

Apparently, the number 90 is also mentioned five times in the Bible. It is mentioned three times in the show, so then I thought maybe we were going to get two more mentions in the last season as some kind of biblical parallel (assuming it is actually significant in some way). And then I got sad, because it was probably yet one more cool little detail that was going to be cut out due to time constraints, because we’re not getting a full final season anymore, we’re just getting a 90…minute…movie. A 90 MINUTE MOVIE. The last movie is 90. MINUTES. LONG.

What does this mean???!!

Does anyone have any ideas about this?

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- two.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, arguments, drinking, smoking weed, a soft noah moment, self-depreciating thoughts, cheating, abuse

w.c- 3,536

a.n- chapter 2 is out!! i'm slowly getting more ideas for this story and learning how to make it last longer and stuff like that. feedback is welcome of course! enjoy :)

if you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment.

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

"what the hell happened?" a voice spoke, snatching away my attention. i looked up from my spot on the ground, being met with a worried and confused noah.

"this idiot-" the stage tech began, but noah cut him off. "first of all, lower your volume. and don't call her an idiot. [y/n], what happened?"

i bit my lip, nervous for his reaction. "i was walking to my place at the stage in ran into them. he spilled his coffee all over me, now my camera is fried and the lens is broken. which means no pictures tonight."

noah seemed to tense at my words. no pictures? he never just had no pictures. he sighed, running a hand over his face.

"you don't have a spare?"

i rolled my eyes. "not everyone is a millionaire like you, noah."

"drop the attitude." he said, and i tried to ignore the way arousal shot through my body with his stern tone.

"right, well, no pictures for you tonight."

"what, you can't take them on your phone or something?"

i looked at him like he was insane. "you can't be serious. the camera quality of a phone does not even begin to compare to that of an actual camera. i can't just waltz out there with my phone in my hand-"

"yeah, yeah, i get it. stop your rambling." he interrupted. "i guess we just won't have pictures tonight. you can sit in the green room until the show starts, just don't get in the way."

i furrowed my brows. "you're not upset?"

"of course i'm upset, but i've got other shit to worry about right now. you're not at the top of my priority list. we'll talk about it later."

i nodded, and without another word i walked out to the green room with some ruined clothes and a broken camera.

"woah, what happened to you?" nicholas asked as i walked in. "don't wanna talk about it." i said, throwing the camera on the couch and grabbing a drink from the fridge. white claw, of course. it seemed that's all noah ever drank.

"dude, you need some new clothes." he said.

"they're all back at the hotel." i countered.

"i'll get you some from the merch stand."

i turned around to look at him. "nick, it's really not that big of a deal."

he raised an eyebrow. "it's the middle of december, [y/n]. i'm not gonna let you freeze to death with coffee all over your clothes. stay here, i'll be right back."

i sighed, sitting down and placing my head in my hands. how could so much go so wrong in such a short span of time? it seemed impossible. and so incredibly frustrating.

nick came back with a change of clothes for me. a hoodie and some sweatpants. the rest of the show went by well. a lot better than usual, for some reason. but who was i to ask? just the photographer. just the photographer who fucked up the one thing-

"earth to [y/n]." folio said, waving his hand in front of my face.

"hmm?" i looked at him.

"i said we're heading to a bar soon. you gonna join us?" he asked. "oh, i dunno. i'm pretty tired, i might just head back to the tour bus."

"come onnnn! it'll be fun!" he said, throwing an arm over my shoulder. "please?"

i sighed, running a hand over my face. "fine, whatever. but you're buying my drinks. i think i lost my wallet."

we soon arrived at the bar, heading straight for the vip section. i sat down in a booth far away from the others, staring at the wall and sipping on my drink until someone sat down in front of me.

"what's on your mind?" noah asked, crossing his arms over his chest, and i tried my best not to stare at them for too long before looking back up at his face. "nothing." i lied.

"you suck at lying. talk to me." he said.

"why would i talk to you about my problems?" i asked, a little more attitude in my voice than what i meant to let out.

noah furrowed his brows. "i'm just trying to help you. put some effort in. come see me when you got your head out of your ass." he said, and then walked off.

i groaned, laying my head on the table. today has got to be the worst day ever.

i drank a little more than what i meant to, stumbling and laughing as we walked back to the tour bus, nicholas having to hold my arms so i didn't fall flat on my face.

"damn, princess. you're shit faced." noah laughed.

"fuck you." i spat.

"still being a brat, i see." he said, and i rolled my eyes. "don't have to point out the obvious."

"c'mon, lets sit down before you fall." nicholas said, and i reluctantly sat down with a huff.

"so, what were you thinking about earlier?" noah asked. "you first." i replied, he furrowed his brows.

"earlier today. you declined a smoke. you never do that."

he made an 'o' shape with his mouth, trying to decide if he wanted to tell the truth or not.

"don't lie to me." i said, noticing his hesitance.

"i've just got some personal problems going on. nothing big."

i snorted. "what, your girlfriend break up with you or something? wouldn't be surprised." noah clenched his jaw. "i said it's nothing."

"oh, shit. she did!" i laughed. "damn, how's it feel to be humbled?"

noah groaned, throwing his head back. "can you drop it? i don't want to talk about it."

"nah, i'd rather make fun of you instead. give you a taste of your own medicine."

noah was starting to become increasingly frustrated, his fists clenching at his sides. that should've been my first sign to stop, but i was relentless.

"[y/n], give the guy a break." nicholas said.

"no, he needs to know how it feels to be nitpicked at and made fun of over every small thing." i said.

"can you not be a bitch for five minutes? i dunno, show some empathy and compassion for others for once?" noah snapped.

"i dunno how you expect me to be nice to you when all you've ever shown me from day one is disrespect and anger!" i said.

noah laughed bitterly. "are you fucking blind? i try to be nice to you all the time. i try to show you that i'm trying to change and all you do is push me away!"

"and you expect me to believe that you're 'trying to change'? really? i'm not stupid, noah." i slurred.

"obviously you are. drinking that much. you ruined the fucking show tonight, you know that? you screw up everything all the time. no pictures, no media announcements, nothing. it's a wonder i haven't fired you." he spat.

he was a little drunk too, not completely understanding of the words that he just spoke to me. the words that nearly brought me to tears. but i wouldn't allow him to see them.

"good thing you don't have to. i quit." i said, storming out of the bus.

"[y/n], wait-" nick began.

"save it." i spat, drunkenly walking off down the sidewalk to only god knows where.

i ended up taking an uber back to the hotel, hastily packing my things while the others tried to talk me out of it. all of them except for noah. he was probably in his room or something, hooking up with some girl from the bar. why did i care?

"come on, just think about it. you're both drunk. it'll blow over by morning. please don't leave, [y/n], bad omens isn't bad omens without their photographer." jolly said.

i rolled my eyes, zipping up my suitcase. "i've dealt with this shit for ten years, jolly. tonight was the final straw. i'm fucking done. i quit. find a new damn photographer."

and with that, i stormed out.

weeks after the incident, my phone was blowing up non stop with messages from all four members. i was back home in LA, searching for other jobs.

i saw on instagram that they had replaced me with some 'temporary' guy named bryan, which i'm sure he would end up taking my place entirely. he did his job, and better than i did. his editing skills were immaculate, and the angles he could get were insane.

i would never be like him.

photography never was for me, anyways. i wasn't creative enough. every time i couldn't get a shot or edit a photo correctly, i would break down. i needed to perfect, and i was never even close to achieving that goal. nicholas always assured me that practice made perfect, but couldn't nearly 10 years of practicing be enough?

i shut off my laptop, giving up on my job search for the day, and checked my phone. more messages from the group. great. one message had caught my eye, though. from noah.

'[y/n], please come back. i didn't mean any of the shit i said, i was shit faced and talking out of my ass. you're incredibly talented, you shouldn't need someone to tell you that. you should be able to see it for yourself. i know you've seen that we got a new photographer, but he doesn't even compare to you and your skills. we need you, princess.'

i rolled my eyes, shutting off my phone and ignoring the message, just like i had with all the others. with a bottle of hennessy next to me, i lit up a joint, taking a few hits as i turned on the tv.

since i left, i'd been drowning myself in weed and alcohol. not really a good mix, but i wasn't in the right mindset to even care at this point. the only thoughts in my mind were self-depreciating ones. the ones telling me that i would never be good enough. that he was right to say all those things to me. i felt tears well up in my eyes again, and then there was a knock at my door.

figuring it was just a package or something, i ignored it. until it came again.

i groaned, putting out the joint and shuffling over to the front door before pulling it open.

"christ, [y/n], you look like shit." noah said, looking at me and grimacing at the faint scent of alcohol and weed.

"oh, gee, thanks." i said, moving to shut the door again, but he blocked it with his foot.

"wait." he said. "i want to talk to you."

for a brief moment, i considered letting him in. i wondered if the others had knocked some sense into him over the past two weeks. yeah, he was going through a lot himself, but that didn't give him any right to treat me like that. i huffed, remaining stubborn on keeping him out.

"i don't want to talk to you. go away." i said. "give me five minutes. if i can't change your mind, i'll leave. forever."

the thought of him leaving made my heart clench. i didn't want him to leave. i needed him to stay. for some reason, my life felt emptier without him. so i sighed, opening the door again and moving to let him in.

why was i feeling this way?

we sat on the couch, and i prayed he didn't say anything about the countless empty alcohol bottles and joint butts.

"first, i want to apologize. i know me being drunk isn't a proper excuse. hell, there's no excuse for the way i treated you, that night and over the years in general. you don't deserve that, [y/n]. and you were right to want to quit. but that doesn't mean you should. you are the most talented photographer i have ever met in my life. you're- you're beautiful, and funny, and its like you can make photos come to life. i know i said a lot of shit, but you have to believe me. i didn't mean it. any of it."

i finally looked at him. "you're such a liar."

he shook his head. "i'm not lying. you don't have to trust me. you can hate me all you want. yell, scream, cry and hit me. whatever makes you feel better."

i really was gonna take him up on that offer, but decided against it. "what do you want?"

"i want you to come back. you're like family, [y/n]. tour isn't the same without you."

i clenched my jaw. "and what, you think a half assed apology is gonna fix it? everything you said, everything you did? you broke me down all these years, noah, and now i have to pick up the pieces myself. fuck you."

"[y/n]-" "get out."

"what?"

i looked at him. "get. out. i don't want you here."

he sat stubbornly. "i'm not leaving. you're not in the right mindset, i know, but you can't just quit. we need you. we miss you."

i crossed my arms. "prove it."

he furrowed his brows. "what? how am i supposed to prove it?"

"prove that you're sorry. that you're willing to change for me to come back. because i won't be coming back to deal with your sour attitude for longer than i have to. i'm tired of it." i said, and he nodded.

"okay. i'll prove it."

noah canceled the next few shows, which i repeatedly told him was not necessary, but he refused. he was going to show me he cared.

he started off by helping me clean my house. at first, he started by himself, but i refused to let him do it himself. plus, there were some things that needed to be done a certain way or else it wasn't right and i'd have to do it all over again.

"jesus christ, how much did you drink? it's been like, two weeks." noah said.

"too much. i've had the world's worst hangover for the past three days." i said, and noah threw me a water bottle and a bottle of painkillers. "take those and sit down. you'll feel better soon."

"but-" "don't argue."

i sighed, taking the painkillers and washing it down with water before going to the couch and sitting down.

noah continued to clean, throwing away the takeout boxes and empty bottles and even going as far as to mop the floors for me.

maybe he really is trying to change.

i shook away the thought. he could be trying to manipulate me or something. make me think he's nicer and then immediately go back to being mean.

even though there was that nagging worry in the back of my mind, i fell asleep in the couch with the thought of maybe he really had changed. maybe there was a chance at actually being happy.

maybe i had a chance with him after all.

i woke up what i can only assume was hours later, only to find noah no longer in my home. no note, not text, nothing. i should've known better.

a thought crossed my mind. my house was already so clean. there was no use in dirtying it up even more. maybe i could try a different outlet.

so i grabbed a paper and pen, scrambling off random words onto the paper. just random things that came to my mind.

I don't want it. And I don't want to want you. But in my dreams I seem to be more honest. And I must admit, you've been in quite a few.

it wasn't a lie. often times, he would show up in my dreams. i couldn't remember what was happening, but i knew he was there.

silly me to fall in love with you.

falling in love with a man who wasn't available. how stupid could i be? it wasn't going to happen, anyways. even though he was single now, he was a prick. he hated me. i can't believe i ever thought i had a chance.

NOAH'S POV.

i knew it was wrong to leave her there like that. but i couldn't stop myself. when i recieved the message i had oh so desperately been waiting for from alyssa, my feet seemed to move on it's own. my thoughts drifted back to conversation i previously had with nick as i drive to her place. the place we used to share.

"she what?!" nick yelled.

"calm down, dude." i said, my eyes red with previously shed tears.

i'd just recieved a picture from a good friend of mine, keaton, of my girlfriend and some random dude kissing in the mall while i was out on tour. part of me felt relieved. i knew it was wrong, but over the past couple years, i'd been growing feelings for another woman. [y/n], to be exact. why did i feel this way?

"god, dude, i wish she was a man so i could beat her ass."

"i know. just.. stay. i don't want to be alone."

i met alyssa when i was on tour at the very beginning of my career. i bumped into her when i was on a coffee run for everybody, and the way she carried herself, her voice, and generally just everything about her had me to my knees immediately. she didn't know who i was. and frankly, it was a relief. i didn't want to date some crazy fan, so i asked for her number.

we hit it off almost instantly. the first date i kissed her. everything was going fine for the first couple months, and then she started disappearing more. leaving the house more and staying out later. she always assured me that she was just going out with friends, but deep down i knew it was something more.

and really, everyone could see it but me. she was borderline abusive. sometimes physically, but i would play it off as jokes and fun. it was obvious it wasn't when she started leaving bruises. mentally and physically. telling me i would never be enough. that i wouldn't be anything without her. when we argued, she would put me down so far that sometimes, it was hard to get back up. but i managed. i always did.

it might sound absurd. a large, 6'3 and well built man being abused by a woman. and though i looked like that on the outside, it was all just a front. i never wanted to hurt anyone. i never wanted to be mean. i just wanted to be held. to be loved. i wanted her to love me. i wanted her acceptance, because that was all that mattered to me.

that soon proved to be a mistake.

i sighed, pulling into the driveway and sitting for a moment. this was wrong. so horribly wrong. but i couldn't find it in me to leave. i needed to know why she did this. why she left me. was i not good enough? what did the other guy have that i didn't?

i walked into the house and she greeted me with tears, shocking me.

"noah, please. i'm so sorry. i-i didn't mean to, please. i need you, you're the only man i love, i swear!"

my heart jumped at her words, though i knew they weren't true. over the years i'd been with alyssa, i knew she was cheating. lying. but i hated change. and i couldn't bring myself to leave. but keaton giving me the cold hard proof was all i needed to make the final choice.

"you cheated, alyssa. you did that. not me. you have no one to blame but yourself."

"so what, you came back to rub it in my face? tell me it's over for good?" she scoffed, the tears almost immediately disappearing and being replaced with a scowl.

"yes." i said simply.

"fine. he's better than you, anyways. richer, hotter, and he's bigger."

"whatever, alyssa." i sighed, grabbing my keys. i knew this was a mistake. "you walk out that door, and don't you ever call me again!" she shouted.

so i did.

i debated on whether or not i should go back to [y/n]'s apartment. after a few missed calls, i decided against it. she must still be sleeping. so i wen't to nick's house to crash. i'd go back to her house tomorrow, but for now, i just needed sleep.

READER'S POV

i found myself laying in bed, staring at the wall. once again, that void was in my chest. the void that could only be filled by him.

he called me numerous times, but i declined them all. he really had the guts to call me after he left? just left. without a single word. why would he do that?

tears flowed freely from my eyes as i remembered all the past experiences with the band. i missed them. i missed my friends. but i couldn't afford to get hurt again. i couldn't go through that again. so once again, i drifted off to sleep with the thoughts that lingered in my mind, despite my efforts to push them away.

halley's comet comes around more than i do. but you're all it takes for me to break a promise. silly me to fall in love with you.

[dipplinduo]

Sweet and Sour Dipplins

NOOOO!!!

Why can't Kieraboo and his Julibee be happy together?!

Well that'd just be too easy. ;)

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Thank you so much, Brummie! 🖤 This was one of my fav one shots to write. Jealous Tommy is too much fun 🤭.

Absolutely! I’m so glad you feel as though they are practically the same person, especially when it comes to their insecurities. They’re both so scared of losing each other.

Ada probably thought that they both knew about the crush as Adam had been with them for a little while by then. But I do think there’s a part of her who was enjoying poking Tommy over it 😂.

I think this may be one of the first times I’ve ever written Lucy getting truly MAD at him. They’re usually pretty good at communicating so things don’t often get to this level of an argument.

I considered having Tommy go after her and see her talking with Adam, but I liked the idea of him sulking at home like a pathetic wet cat too much 🤭. Adam spends so much of the day with them, there’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed the way they look at each other 😅.

I’m so glad you liked drunken, rambly Tommy! ☺️ you’re right he’s gonna be even more protective now!

Thank you again so much for such lovely comments, hon! And no rush in getting caught up! My fics aren’t going anywhere! 😄

Part 25: My Darling One

Summary: Tommy overreacts when he learns of the crush his secretary has on his lover.

Word Count: 6,808

Warnings: Jealousy, Tommy being a bit of an asshole, sexual content, and references to polyamory.

Notes: Tommy and Lucy are in an established relationship. Tommy is married to Lizzie, but is having an affair with Lucy--though Lizzie is aware of it and has somewhat begrudgingly allowed their relationship to continue. This takes place between seasons 4 and 5.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

“I met your secretary while I was waiting,” Ada told Tommy as they sat at his desk in his office in the House of Commons. “He seems nice.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid.” It had taken ages for them to find someone that fit all their requirements in a secretary. Adam was smart and competent, but also understood the importance of discretion. He was more than willing to look the other way when it came to some of their more shadowy dealings. “He’s settling in well.”

“Lucy’s training him?”

“Of course. Who else?”

Ada pressed her red-painted lips together, trying–and failing–to suppress a smile. “That little crush he has on her is quite sweet.”

Tommy went stock still, pen freezing where it was poised over a paper. “His what?”

Ada looked up at him sharply, the change in his tone triggering her smile to fall. “You don’t know? He’s so obvious about it.”

“He’s not…” but his mind was working back, reexamining. Remembering the way that Adam sometimes looked at Lucy, the puppy-like way he followed her around during his first week. How sometimes Tommy would come out of his office into the space where Lucy and Adam’s desks were located to find them giggling together over something. 

“Look, I’m sure it’s not a big deal,” Ada had returned her attention to the papers in her lap. “Just a puppy love kind of thing. And it isn’t like she’s interested, so…” she shrugged, looking up at him with a playful glint in her eye, “put the razors away, alright Tom?”

“Hmph,” he grunted, even as he leaned back slightly in his chair, knuckles raising to rest against his lips, eyes glued to the double doors that led out into Lucy and Adam’s office. 

The idea of Adam sitting right out there, flirting and laughing with Lucy, made his blood boil. 

Jealousy was not something he often had to deal with in regards to Lucy. Nearly everyone in Small Heath knew she was off limits and kept their eyes to themselves; lest they risk losing them. Not to mention that Lucy never showed any interest in any men outside of him. 

His lips pursed against his knuckles, jaw clenching as he remembered how Lucy had smiled at Adam that morning when he came in. 

That’s just Lucy. She’s warm and friendly towards everyone.

But the doubt had taken root in his head and was already starting to grow. 

Dropping his hand, he sighed, trying to force himself to focus on what he and Ada were supposed to be working on, but finding it increasingly difficult to pull his mind away from turning over each and every encounter he’d witnessed between Lucy and Adam. 

Yes; Ada was right. The kid definitely had a crush on her. But how did Lucy feel about him?

Why don’t you just ask her, you fucking dolt?

But he was suddenly frozen with fear at what her answer might be. 

He was aware of how hard he was to be with. It wouldn’t surprise him if she got tired of his constant moodiness and brooding. He wasn’t exactly a fun person to be around. Lucy could do a thousand times better. It continued to amaze him that she hadn’t up and left him already for someone who actually deserved her. 

And for someone who isn’t married to someone else, he thought miserably, thumb running across the surface of the gold wedding band on his left hand. A shackle that kept him tied to another woman who wasn’t the love of his life. 

Things with Lizzie had been touch and go. She knew about them, and while she allowed them to continue their relationship so long as they were subtle and kept things behind closed doors, she had made her discontentment about it known on several occasions. 

Her mood swings were getting almost as bad as his own. Poor Lucy, having to put up with both of them and their bullshit all the bloody time.

Though he had never taken out his anger or frustrations on Lucy. The same couldn’t be said for Lizzie. Often, it was Lucy who wound up being used as the punching bag for her ire. On a few occasions he’d had to step in to try to shield his lover from his wife’s jealous ragings.

It wasn’t all bad, of course. Sometimes Lizzie was warm and friendly. But her feelings and behaviors towards Lucy swung back and forth like a pendulum, and often they found themselves walking on eggshells around her for fear that saying or doing the wrong thing might set her off. 

With an arrangement like that, it would be no wonder if Lucy started looking for someone else who could offer her a full life. Not one relegated to moments of affection displayed only in shadowy corners or dark rooms. One where she could be loved openly.

The right thing to do would be to let her go. Let her be happy. He loved her so much; that was all he really wanted for her. But the idea of losing Lucy to someone else made him feel sick. Some other man touching her, kissing her, making love to her…

His heart twisted painfully in his chest. 

You fucking hypocrite. Sitting there agonizing over the simple thought of her doing all those things that you do with your wife. How do you think she feels when she has to see you with Lizzie?

He swallowed miserably, fumbling in the case on his desk for a cigarette. But the smoke that he inhaled did nothing to drown out the misery swirling inside him.

∗ ∗ ∗                                          

“Do you know where Adam is? He’s over an hour late,” Lucy asked when she came in to drop off some mail on Tommy’s desk, glancing around as if the secretary would materialize somewhere in the room. When she looked back at Tommy where he was seated in his big chair, he was shifting uncomfortably, not entirely meeting her gaze. 

“I let him go yesterday.”

“You what?” She whirled to stare at him, taken aback. “Why?”

He shrugged, fiddling with his silver cigarette case, popping it open and plucking one out, swiping it across his lips. “It just wasn’t a right fit.” 

“What does that mean?” Her hands landed on her lips, looking at him in confusion. She thought he’d liked Adam. 

“It means that you’re going to need to find me a new secretary.”

Lucy’s eyes widened at the curt tone. He almost never got snappish with her, and the near accusatory glance he shot her only left her even more confused and annoyed. 

“You do realize how long it took me to find someone who fit all of our requirements, right?”

“Better get started on collecting applications then, shouldn’t you?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Her arms crossed over her chest, annoyance sharpening. “You really aren’t going to even tell me what he did that was so wrong you just had to fire him without even talking to me about it?”

“Wasn’t aware that I needed your permission.”

“Of course you don’t! But it would be common courtesy considering I’m the one who will have to pick up all the additional work without him here.”

“I’ll help you with it.”

She snorted. “Yeah, because you’ve got so much free time these days.”

“What–”

Turning on her heel, she stomped towards the double doors. “You’re having lunch with one of the MPs from Southampton. I’m going to go have tea with Ada.” 

“I need you to take notes–”

“Take your own bloody notes!” 

His jaw dropped open at her barking back at him, and she saw his temper flare briefly behind his eyes. 

“What? You going to fire me now too?” she challenged. He had enough self awareness to look at least a little sheepish at that. 

“Luce–”

“I don’t wanna hear it right now,” she wrenched the door open and let it bang closed behind her with perhaps a little more force than necessary.  

∗ ∗ ∗  

“--Can you believe that!?” She stopped aggressively stirring sugar into her tea, tapping the little silver spoon twice against the rim of the teacup before setting it aside and bringing the cup to her lips, blowing on it once before taking a sip. Her eyes finally raised to Ada’s, where she had been sitting very quietly while Lucy raved to her about how thick headed her brother could be. “Ada?”

Her throat worked, fingers adjusting their hold on the teacup she was holding in them. “I think I know why he fired Adam.”

Lucy set down her teacup in its saucer on the table, leaning forward. “Really? Why?”

Ada’s gaze darted up to hers awkwardly. “I may have mentioned something to him about Adam having a little crush on you. I just thought it was sweet. But he may have taken it the wrong way…”

“Adam doesn’t have a crush on me.”

Ada shot her a look. “You really didn’t notice? He was trailing after you like a puppy for a while, there.”

Lucy frowned. “I’m at least ten years older than him.”

Ada shrugged with a sly grin. “Some men are into that sort of thing, I hear.”

Lucy made a face. “I’m not interested in Adam, Ada.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” 

“So why would Tommy…?”

“Because he’s a man and they get all territorial and ridiculous sometimes.” She picked a stray bit of lint off of her skirt. “And you know how Tommy can be.”

Annoyance prickled under Lucy’s skin. What gave him the right to stomp around and put a poor kid out of work just because of a stupid crush of which nothing would ever come out of anyway? Did he really have so little faith in her loyalty to him?

Besides, he was married. To someone who was very much not her. Did he really think he had a leg to stand on when it came to being pissed off at the idea of her with someone else?

Not that she would ever actually want to be with someone else, of course. But still. It was the principle of the thing. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” She shook her head back and forth, slowly seething through her teeth. “God, he can be so fucking stupid.”

Ada patted her on the arm. “I know.”

By the time she left the tea room, she had been quietly stewing over Tommy’s reasoning for firing Adam for nearly an hour, her anger marinating. When she got back to the office, it was to find Tommy already there, apparently done with his lunch meeting and seated behind his desk, hard at work.

“Are you fucking serious?” She asked, after closing the door and making sure there was no one else around to overhear them, crossing her arms over her chest. Tommy raised his eyes to her, brows lifted behind the rims of his glasses. 

“What did I do now?”

“You fired him because he liked me!?” 

His jaw ticked, setting stubbornly. “He was being unprofessional–”

“Oh, do not even…how!? How was he being unprofessional, Tommy? I didn’t even know he liked me until Ada told me.” 

“This type of thing happening in the office can cause problems.”

She gaped at him. “Do I need to remind you that your wife was working as your secretary when you impregnated her?”

He flinched, gaze darting down to his hands where they were clasped in front of him on the desk. “Exactly. I had to learn my lesson the hard way about keeping someone around despite them being infatuated with one of us. I’m not dealing with that kind of shit again.”

“He’s not infatuated, Tommy! It’s just a stupid crush. It’ll probably go away in a month or two once he hits it off with one of the other secretaries. There’s plenty to choose from around here.”

“We thought the same thing about Lizzie, and now look where we are.”       

“Yeah, well, I’m not doing shit that’s leading him on either.” A low blow, maybe, but she was upset. And the swipe very much applied to both of them, not just him. She had plenty of chances to put a stop to things with Lizzie, and she hadn’t. Tommy shot her a wounded look, and she immediately felt bad. “If we’re talking about firing people over unprofessional, infatuated behavior, I’m the one who should be getting the boot, not him. You know, because you’re fucking me.”

“That’s…that’s different–”

“Why? Because you’re the boss so you can fuck whoever you want but no one else can?” 

“Because we’re in love, and have been together for years! He can’t just come swooping in here and take you! Because you’re mine!”

Her eyes widened, and she flinched away from him. “I’m not some thing that you own.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She stared at him, shaking her head back and forth slightly, suddenly massively disappointed in him. She kept her jealousy on a tight leash, despite having to watch Lizzie and a whole other slew of women constantly fall over their feet for him. She didn’t throw temper tantrums and demand he never see them again–especially when they were involved in their work–simply because they couldn’t stop drooling over him. 

But one man, just one in she didn’t even know how many years, showed innocent interest in her, and he threw a fucking hissy fit. 

There wasn’t even any chance of something happening between her and Adam. The boy was still practically a kid, and while sweet, very much not her type. 

Did Tommy really not trust her at all? Did he really think she was about to drop everything, abandon the life they’d built together, and run off with the first man to make googly eyes at her?

“You fucking hypocrite,” she spat out. “You want me to be just yours.” Her eyes dropped to focus on the golden band on his left ring finger. To her horror, through her anger, she felt tears building behind her eyes, a lump lodging in her throat. “And I am. I am yours.” Her lips trembled and she pressed them tightly together, tilting her head ever so slightly. “But you’re not mine.”

His brows drew in, frown pinching across his face. Hurt and panic flashed within his big blue eyes. “Lucy…” he rose from his chair, hand reaching out to her, but she took a step back. 

“I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Love, please, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Tommy.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned and hurried out of the office, snagging her coat from the hook by the door as she did, barely getting out of there in time before she started to quietly cry. 

∗ ∗ ∗

She went for a walk around the city to clear her head, coat pulled in tight around her, head dipped low with her cap pulled over her hair, the shadow of the brim hiding the dried tear tracks running down her cheeks. 

The weather matched her mood, gray clouds gathering over the city, a few droplets of rain already starting to drip from them. Based on the way that the clouds seemed to roil and double overhead, it wouldn’t be long before they would unleash a full downpour on all of them. 

She wasn’t too far from her and Tommy’s London apartment. But she wasn’t ready to face him just yet. Though most of her anger and annoyance towards him had dried up while she stomped throughout the streets and away from Parliament. 

Overprotective fool, she thought grumpily, shaking her head. But now that she’d cooled off and could examine the situation more objectively, she was pretty sure that she understood what had happened. 

He’d panicked when he found out about Adam’s crush on her. He thought that he was going to take her away. How he thought Adam was going to accomplish that, she had no idea. She supposed that it likely didn’t matter. He probably didn’t even know himself. 

More rain drops fell from the sky, in great succession. Glancing up, she pulled her coat in tighter around her, and with quick steps hurried over to a pub on the corner of the street, ducking inside to wait out the worst of the storm. 

The pub was warm and crowded inside, but she managed to find a barstool close to the back to slide into, away from the bustle of bodies crowding around the bar. A barmaid came over and poured her the whiskey that she ordered, then must have seen it in her face that she wanted to be left alone and let her be with just her drink and her thoughts. 

Her eyes trailed lazily across the lines of shelves holding all assortments of bottles filled with liquor, to the phone tucked behind the bar. 

She could call Tommy and let him know where she was. So he wouldn’t worry. It was already starting to get dark out, and by the time it finished raining, it would most likely be night. 

No; she decided after a moment’s consideration. She would let him sweat a little more. 

“Miss. Winters?” 

She started, eyes widening at the realization that the boy who had been the cause of all this madness had shuffled up right beside her, peering at her curiously. 

OhmyGodhe’sstalkingme was the very first thought that occurred to her. “Adam. What are you doing here?”

“I, erm, I usually come here after work with my friends.” She followed where he pointed with her eyes, to a group of young men and women about Adam’s age sitting in a booth together. A few of them were watching them with intrigue, hastily averting their gazes when they saw her looking at them. 

“Oh.” She immediately felt a little bad for her initial assumption that he was following her. 

“Is Mr. Shelby with you?”

She smiled at him kindly. “No, it’s just me tonight.” She took a considerable swig of her whiskey. “Look, Adam, I’m sorry about Mr. Shelby–”

“Oh! No, no, it’s all alright.”

She frowned. “It is?”

He nodded. “He called me, oh, about an hour ago. Explained that it was all some big misunderstanding and that I can come into work tomorrow, if I want.”

Huh. Apparently her yelling and petulantly stomping her feet at him made an even bigger impression than she’d thought. “Oh. Okay. Good. Are you? Coming back in, I mean.”

Adam nodded. “I am.”

“Good.” She flashed him a deprecating smile. “I was dreading having to deal with finding someone else.”

Adam looked bashfully down at his shoes. His ears were turning a little red. “Do you know…what exactly was it…I mean, if I did something wrong, I’d like to know.”

“No, no it was nothing you did.” Other than cause your boss to freak out and think you were going to try to steal his girlfriend. “It’s like he said, it was just a miscommunication.”

“Oh. Alright then.” 

It was then that the barmaid came over with a tray of drinks for Adam. He took it from her, balancing the tray carefully in his hands. 

“You know, you would be welcome to join us, if you wanted…” he offered. A blush was still flaring at his cheeks, eyes wide while they stared at her. Lucy gave him a kind look. 

“Actually, I’d rather just drink alone right now.”

He shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.”

She watched him weave through the other patrons back to his friends, before returning her attention to her own drink. 

Oh, Tommy, she shook her head to herself at her lover’s complete overreaction. Though the thought was filled with traces of affection. At least he’d made efforts to fix his mistake.  

She finished off her whiskey, then ordered another. Hopefully the rain would die down by the time she was done, and she could head home without worry of getting drenched. 

By the time that the rain actually stopped, it was dark outside, and a good many of the patrons at the pub had already left, leaving it quiet and empty save for a few occupied tables and booths. Setting some coins down on the bar to pay for her drinks, Lucy hopped off of the barstool, brushing imaginary lint from her coat and pulling her cap from her pocket. As she did, Adam came up to the bar to settle his tab with the barmaid. He gave her a shy smile. 

“Did your friends all leave?” she asked, looking over his shoulder to see that the booth they’d been occupying was empty.

“Just now, yeah.” He forked out some notes from his pocket to hand over to the barmaid, eyes darting anxiously from Lucy to the windows. “I, erm, I could walk you home, if you’d like? Since it’s dark out.”

“Oh, that’s okay, my place is only a few blocks away.”

“It’s no trouble.” 

She inclined her head, smiling a little at the boy’s sweetness, shrugging. “Alright.” 

Leading the way out of the pub and into the crisp evening air, she fell into step beside Adam as they started the walk back to the apartment that she shared with Tommy. Her fingers fumbled at her rings as she wondered whether he would be there waiting for her, or if he would still be at the office. She didn’t think he’d go all the way back to Arrow House without her. Even at his angriest with her, Tommy would never outright abandon her like that. Certainly not in London of all places. 

“I’m sorry about today. Mr. Shelby’s…he can be a little temperamental sometimes, I suppose, but he doesn’t normally do things like that.” They passed under a flickering street lamp. “He’s had a hard year,” she wasn’t sure what else she could offer up in explanation without having to go into far more detail than she was comfortable sharing with Adam.

“It’s alright. My last boss would throw things at us. Sent one of his other secretaries to the hospital when he hit him in the head with a paperweight.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I can at least promise you that Tommy will never do anything like that.” She colored a little at realizing too late that she’d slipped and used his first name. Quickly looking back out at the dark street ahead of them, she hoped that Adam wouldn’t notice. The cobblestones gleamed with lingering moisture from the rain. Neither of them said anything for another block, rounding the corner for her apartment building to come into view at the very end of the street. 

“He’s in love with you, isn’t he?” 

She nearly tripped over her feet and face planted right there on the sidewalk. “What–”

Adam gave her a sad smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “It’s the way he looks at you,” he said in explanation, like it was obvious. Lucy felt a speckle of horror open up inside of her. They had tried so hard this time around to be subtle…

“Adam,” she wheezed, minorly panicked. “It’s not…I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s married–” 

Adam shot her a sympathetic, somewhat amused look. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything. I’ve worked with politicians for a few years now. I know how these things work.”

“It’s not…it’s not like that.” For some reason, the idea that he might think that what she had with Tommy was nothing but a dirty affair, akin to what so many of the other politicians did when screwing around behind their wives’ backs, made her feel…cheap. Dirty.

Isn’t that all you really are, though? Just his dirty little secret that he keeps on the side. Even if his wife does know about it and tolerate it. If only just.

She shivered, looking away again. She knew what others probably thought of her. She was sure many looked at her and only saw yet another rich, powerful man’s airheaded mistress. Letting herself be led along, feeding off the empty promises he made that someday, eventually, he would leave his wife for her and they would have a real, happy life together.    

Poor, stupid girl, they whispered behind her back. Doesn’t she know how this always goes? The man never leaves. He never leaves his family for her, and once the wife has had enough and decreed that the affair must end, he’ll throw her out like he has all the others. Maybe get a new model in a few months, and forget all about her. 

That’s how it always goes.

She shook the thoughts away, arms going around her middle. No; that wasn’t them. That wasn’t her and Tommy.        

“I know.” Adam said. At the inquiring look she gave him, he shrugged. “I’ve seen my share of men chasing skirt just for the sport of it. This isn’t that.” 

Lucy swallowed hard. She wondered if he knew how badly she actually had needed to hear that.

“I mean it,” Adam continued. “I won’t say a word to anyone. And not just ‘cos I value my eyes and my tongue.” At her frown, he smiled good naturedly. “You think I didn’t do research into who I was working for?”   

Lucy cast him an impressed look. They’d picked Adam for a reason, after all, but it was only then that it fully dawned on her that he was aware of far more than either she or Tommy had perhaps given him credit for. 

It shouldn’t have been surprising, no one survived long in the political arena–even secretaries–without having a good head on their shoulders. 

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to do my job and go home at the end of the day, that’s all. Anything you and Mr. Shelby do in your private time isn’t any of my business, as far as I’m concerned.”

Lucy nodded slowly, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Thank you. We appreciate that.” They had come to the entrance to her apartment building. “This is me,” she said, digging around in her pocket to pull out her keys to the front gate. “Thank you for walking me.”

“It’s no problem.” He glanced over at her apartment building, head tilting back to stare at the windows above, several illuminated by the lights still on inside. “Tell him that I said that it’s alright. And that he doesn’t need to worry. I understand.”

“I will.”

“Have a good night, then, Miss. Winters. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“Right.”

He started to walk away, back the way they’d come. Her grip on her keys tightened, the little jagged grooves digging into her palm. “Adam?”

He turned to look back at her, brow raised curiously.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say. She hated to think that he may be hurt by her relationship with Tommy, and yet she was also relieved that he seemed to fully understand and accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

Adam shrugged. “Don’t be.” 

She nodded, thumbing out the correct key dangling on the ring she was clutching, sliding it into the lock on the gate and pushing it open. When she turned to close it behind her with a soft clang, Adam was already halfway down the road. 

She climbed the stairs slowly, pulling her cap off and tucking it away into her pocket, brushing a few loose red curls out of her eyes.

She opened the door to find the apartment dimly lit, the ornately shaded lamps by the couch in the middle of the sitting room turned on but the curtains drawn. 

Tommy was seated on the crimson colored velvet couch. His suit jacket off and tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair, head in his hands and an over half drunk bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. His head lifted to stare at her with wide eyes at the sound of the door opening. He watched silently as she moved about, stripping off her coat and hanging it on the hook beside his next to the door. Wriggling out of her suit jacket, she deposited it over the back of one of the armchairs. With a sigh, she went to sit beside him on the couch. Never once did his gaze waver from her.

“You came back,” he said in a quiet voice. Lucy raised an eyebrow. It was obvious that he was drunk, both in the slight glassiness in his eyes, and in the barely noticeable slur to his words. 

“You really thought that I wouldn’t?”

He shrugged miserably, looking down at the table in front of them. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Frowning, she scooted a little closer to him, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder blade. “Tommy…”

“I called Adam and gave him his job back,” he still wouldn’t entirely look at her.

“I know.”

His head raised, brow furrowed. “You do?”

She nodded. “I ducked into a pub to wait out the rain. He was there with a bunch of friends. We chatted a little, and he said that you called him.” She hesitated, not sure how he would take the next bit, but not wanting to keep anything from him. “He walked me home.”

Tommy looked back down. “Oh.”

“Tommy, nothing is ever, ever going to happen between me and him. I don’t even feel that way about him at all, alright? You don’t need to worry.”

“I know.”

“Then why…?”

“Because…because there are dozens of people out there who would actually deserve you.” He didn’t meet her gaze, thumbs playing with each other while he spoke. “And I’m so scared that someday, someone is going to come and take you away from me.” 

Her heart broke a little, both at his words and the sorrowful tone with which he said them. “Oh, love,” she rested a hand on the back of his head. “Look at me,” with gentle pressure from her palm, she encouraged his head to turn until she was met with miserable blue eyes. So full of self hatred that she wanted to squeeze him in her arms and never let him go. “You’ll never lose me.” His lips trembled, eyes widening with unshed tears. Lucy let her forehead lean into his. “Not ever.”

He smelled of whiskey and smoke and melancholy, lashes lowering and head leaning into hers. The rest of his body shifted somewhat so he was more properly facing her, a hand landing on her hip.

“I love you. And I know that you don’t think that you deserve me, but you do. You love me more than anyone else ever has.” She continued, smiling a little when he tried to nuzzle his face more firmly against hers. A teasing gleam entered her eyes. “Besides, you really think that a scrawny little secretary that’s a good ten years younger than me is gonna manage to sweep me off my feet?”

Tommy huffed. “I know. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

“Mhm.”

Insecurity entered his eyes again. “He wants you, though.”

“Doesn’t mean that he gets me. Besides, he knows about us.”

Tommy stiffened. “How…?”

“Apparently we’re still not as inconspicuous as we’d like to think. Or maybe Adam is just more observant than we gave him credit for. Either way, he knows. He’s not going to say anything. But I do think he is a little scared of you. So, I doubt he’s about to try anything, either. You don’t need to worry about him.” She stroked his cheek. “And like I said earlier, it’s just a stupid crush. It’ll probably pass after a month or two once he finds someone else to capture his interest. He’s not like Lizzie. He knows that there’s nothing that could ever come of this.”

Tommy swallowed hard and nodded slowly, hand lifting to cover hers where it still rested against his cheek, thumb stroking over her knuckles.  

“I’m sorry too.” She leaned back a little so he could see the full genuinity in her face. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry about it. And I shouldn’t have called you a hypocrite over it either.”

Tommy shook his head, gaze dropping again to fix on the velvet couch cushions under them. They were soft and plush. The couch, despite still being new, was already well broken into by late nights spent cuddling, working, and fucking on it. 

“You were right. I was being a hypocrite. On multiple points.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair…”

“Isn’t it? What’s not fair is any of this for you. It’d serve me right if you went and fucked someone else.”

She was momentarily caught off guard and how truly miserable he sounded. So much so that it alarmed her a little. She knew that he felt massively guilty for the nights that he spent with Lizzie and not her. Even if they were few and far between. And even though she’d given him her blessing to do so. He always looked at her like a frightened puppy the morning after, as if expecting her to kick or scream at him and shove him away. But it worried her to think that he was self flagellating himself over it.

“I don’t want to fuck someone else.” She was still open to threesomes, of course–so long as he was with her–but that was different. “I knew there would be some sacrifices I’d have to make when you married Lizzie. It’s okay. I don’t care so long as we still get to be together.”  

Tommy cast her another sad look. “It would be okay if you did.”

“What? Fucked someone else or cared that there are things that I’ve had to give up?”

“Both. Either.” 

Her brows raised. “You’d still love me if I went off and fucked another man?” Considering the temper tantrum he’d just thrown, she didn’t think it was a wholly unreasonable question. 

“Of course I’d still love you. I’d love you no matter what you do.”

She felt herself melt a little. “Even if I blew up the world?”

His lips quirked upwards for the slightest of moments. “Even then.”

She kissed his nose. “You don’t ever have to worry about that, for the record.”

“Which one?”

“Fucking another man. I make no promises about not blowing up the world.”

He snorted, touching her face gently. “You were wrong, you know? I am yours. This,” he touched the ring on his finger, “doesn’t change any of that.”

“Doesn’t it?” 

“Not to me. It’s just a piece of metal. It doesn’t mean anything.” He leaned back a little, hand trailing lazily along her shoulder. “You’re the one I love.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, glassy eyes confirming her statement. “But what’s that thing that they say? Drunken words are sober thoughts.”   

He leaned forward to try to capture her lips with his. Lucy laughed softly, his movements a little uncoordinated, mouth tasting strongly of whiskey when it pressed to hers. She let him kiss her for a moment before pulling back, smiling at the way that he tried to chase her. Those wide eyes the color of a warm ocean blinked up at her hopefully, his thumb tracing circles into her hip.

“We’re alright?”

“Yes, we’re alright, you overprotective idiot.” Her tone was steeped in enough fondness for him to know that she meant it only affectionately. He poked her in the side, brow raising. 

“See? Proof that I love you. If anyone else gave me that sorta cheek I’d have their eyes.” 

She pressed her smiling lips together, as if her big softy of a lover didn’t often let people get away with far more than he probably should. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He let out a rumbling purr at the nickname, leaning into her. All that whiskey he’d been drowning himself in before she showed up seemed to be catching up to him, leaving him all sleepy and cuddly. 

She secretly loved it when he got like this. It was so bloody adorable to see some of the gruff exterior slip away, not even trying to hide the big teddy bear that he secretly was underneath. 

Smiling to herself, Lucy took his face in her hands, angling it up to look at her.

“What?” He asked, catching sight of the adoring look she was giving him. 

“You’re cute.”

He shook his head despite blushing against her hands. “‘M big scary gangster.”

“Mm, yeah, I know.” She chuckled when he draped his arms around her lazily and snuggled into her neck. “The most fearsome of them all.”

“Damn right.”

She laughed, looping her arms around his back to hold him closer to her. She could feel him growing heavier against her, nuzzling a little more into her neck. She stroked the back of his head, where the shaved parts of his hair prickled her skin before giving way to softer, longer strands. “Is the big, fearsome, very drunk gangster sleepy?”

“…Yes.”

“Let’s get you to bed, then.” When he made no move to get up, despite his mumble of agreement, she had to bite back a laugh. “Tommy?”

“Comfortable here.”

“Right, but if we fall asleep on this couch, you’ll get a crick in your neck and my shoulders will be killing me come morning. Bed.”

He whined and pouted a little, but let her navigate him away from where he’d settled against her throat. Standing and pulling him by his hand to his feet, she wrapped her arm around his waist. He wasn’t as unsteady on his feet as she’d feared, arm looping around her shoulders more for closeness than out of actually needing stability. The bedroom was just down a very short hallway that veered off from the sitting room. The canopy bed that greeted them looked particularly comfortable, golden light from the lamps bouncing off the wardrobes pushed up against the walls and the little vanity where she did her hair and makeup in the mornings.

All Tommy did to get ready for bed was strip out of everything save for his underwear, then promptly decide that rather than just wait for her in the bed like a normal person, he wanted to drape himself around her instead. Which made it rather difficult for her to remove her makeup and get out of her own clothes with a tall–well, tall in comparison to her, anyway–and stockily muscled man hanging off of her like a koala. 

“Alright, you loon, you’ve gotta let me go for a second.” She said, giving him a peck to the forehead to dissuade him from pouting too much when she extracted herself from his grasp so she could change. He still sulked at the momentary lapse of physical contact, but seemed pleased when she opted to wear one of his shirts to bed rather than a nightgown, humming happily when she let him nestle back up against her. 

She maneuvered them both into the bed, smiling when he immediately snuggled up to her, his arms around her waist, head on her chest, and body half on top of hers. He almost never allowed his full weight to rest on top of her like that, too afraid of accidentally crushing her. Though honestly, if she had to pick a way to go, being smothered under him didn’t seem half bad. 

“Feeling better?” she asked, stroking gently through his soft dark hair. Tommy nodded, eyes already dropping closed. 

“‘M sorry for being an asshole.”

“It’s okay. Just talk to me next time before you start going around firing people, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry too,” she kissed the top of his head, a smile playing on the edges of her lips when she tipped her head back to rest against the pillows. “You wanna hear something kinda terrible?”

“Hm?”

“I kinda liked it. Not the part where you took things out on a poor boy who hadn’t actually done anything wrong,” she amended quickly. “But it’s just…nice to know that you’d be willing to fight for me.”

He turned his head to kiss her shoulder. “Always. No one touches my girl.” 

She smiled, knowing that the possessiveness in his voice was meant as protective and loving rather than controlling or dehumanizing. 

Tommy tightened his arms around her. “I love you.” 

She traced her fingers along the expanse of his bare, strong back, feeling the smooth skin and the periodic bumps of a scar or beauty mark. “I love you too.” 

He peppered a few kisses along her collarbone before settling again, and it wasn’t long before he was snoring softly against her, the deep rumbles from his chest helping to lull her, until she too fell fast asleep in the comfort of his arms. 

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[exopelagic]

honk shoo.

[toothmarqed]

fallen prey to saying stupid shit on the internet without thinking and coming off as incredibly rude and insensitive. i feel sick to my stomach. never commenting on anything else ever again. deserve to be squashed under someone’s shoe and ground into powder. in all seriousness this has shocked me so much that i am quitting every platform but tumblr for however long it takes for me to get some sense knocked into my dumb fucking skull

[greenjester]

Sometimes I feel like the loner in evil withins fanbase in thinking that the first game was alright enough on it’s own that it didn’t really need the extra sequel tagged onto it and would have preferred it was the only one.

1 wasn’t a perfect game by any means (yeah you can really tell by how it feels that the director only put his heart in it towards the last half of it it and it shows) but it was still serviceable enough. We didn’t have all answers directly but it’s one of those that did fine enough without having to try and hand it out either. But 2 imo didn’t pick up it’s torch very well to carry on with and I had quite a few issues with how it was written overall.

At this point I think I would be happier to see it kinda left where it’s at rather than have 3 come through, mostly because I don’t have a lot of faith they can really pick back up where they need it to go

[unproduciblesmackdown]

skinamarble hornets, i was like i hope my favorite skinamascene has been uplomarinked on youtube....reminds me of that season one marble hornets entry that's the First House Visit and how i saw it described somewhere as like "absolutely nothing happens, & it's terrifying" & it reminds me of the torment of watching as the series was released & Every Time something came out, no matter what happened in like setting, atmosphere, plot, scares, there'd be someone going "ugh another Nothing entry" over the most crucial &/or enjoyable shit so long as it didn't feature [& he's cookin hot dogs on the stove???] & didn't feature it like every other minute for good measure. as though a format that is predictable, like the promise of the same kind of scene in the same intervals of timing, would actually be scary or at all interesting. shoutout to these the entries, or even intervals of time within entries, where "absolutely nothing happens" and it's called suspense in knowing it Could, tension in an unsafe, uneasy, unsettling situation in the meantime, & then also potential followup recontextualization that only creates more tension for later similar material. ("absolutely nothing" happens (of course, actually, things happen, but) in the skinamarink scene save for the literal last few seconds when the "jumpscare" is a very brief change in audio & visuals which is neither actually that loud nor like showing anything scary(tm) (technically a la marble hornets i think people say you can like see an arm extend for a nanosecond but i never catch it if so lol) but rather hits at all because of 8 minutes of suspense & tension & Nothing Happening But It Could) (also bravely standing up like "it's fine that skinamarink has some jumpscares, including the obvious few even jumpier than this" like who cares if it's "easy" necessarily & also that Knowing such startlement can happen ramps up the tension even when it didn't, but it could've. like so)

[sapsolais]

!

[readwritealldayallnight]

“And you ladies are goin’ to be alright?”

“Oh yeah, cabbie’s on his way for us. You go ahead and get this one home.” Your friends giggle as they take their turns hugging you goodbye, the process taking nearly ten minutes thanks to the never ending drinks you’ve all had tonight.

It was a rare night out for you, celebrating a friends birthday at a bar with your girl gang. With your busy schedules, it was difficult to find time to get together as often, and when you did, your friends went hard. Shot after shot, drink after drink, you’d definitely been beyond tipsy for a while now.

Simon, who had come to pick you up at the end of the night, was thoroughly entertained by the sight of his intoxicated little sweetheart, all giggly and rosy cheeked. Making sure your friends has their own safe way of getting home, he slipped an arm around your waist, wanting to prevent your stumbling legs from landing you face first on the bar floor, and led you towards the exit.

“Oh my gosh.” You giggle, your own arm trying to wind behind his large muscular back. “Simon I’m so happy you’re heeeeeeere! I missed you so much.”

“S’that right?” He humours you, holding the door open with his side as he manages to steer you out of the building and out to the car park. “You an’ the girls have only been out for a few hours, lovie.”

“Well it was a flew, no a few! It was a few hours too long!” You drunkenly mumbled, making Simon’s smile widen, his mind already going over the different painkillers in your bathroom cabinet he could give you in the morning for the hangover you were sure to get. “A few hours too many, away from my Si guy! I don’t like not being with youuuuuu.”

“I know, lovie, I don’t like being apart either. But you’re allowed to have fun with the girls every once in a while.” He attempted to reason with you, fishing a hand into his jacket pocket in search of the keys. “You had fun, right?”

“Yeeesssss… but I like you! So much!”

“I like you too.” He chuckled at you. “If ya had fun s’all that matters. And I’m here now aren’t I? Said I’d come get ya.” He adds, tightening his grip around you in emphasis, not wanting to shake you too much, unsure as to exactly how many drinks you had.

“Oh my gosh that’s so nice to say…” you began drawling on before your feet came to an abrupt halt, nearly causing Simon to stumble forward himself as he stopped alongside you. “Wait…” you mumbled, eyes glancing ahead at the familiar sight of Simon’s truck. “Are you driving me?”

He can’t help but to softly chuckle to himself again, completely endeared by the way drunken you has your face scrunched up in consideration, apparently having forgotten that between the two of you, Simon would in fact be the one behind the wheel.

“I am.” He replies simply, watching you process his words.

“Okay, well, I just need to call Soap first.” You mumble, trying to pull your phone out of your back pocket with great effort.

“What’ya need to call that tosser for?” Simon asked, now the one feeling confused.

“I’ve just never actually written a will, and if you’re driving then I think I should probab- ahh!” You squeal as Simon scoops you up over his shoulder, swatting a large hand against the plump of your behind, covering the short distance to the passenger side.

“Yeah yeah, very funny, cheeky girl.” He says, opening the door and helping you into the seat before buckling you in, a smile on his face the entire time. He comes around to his side and hops in the drivers seat, starting up the engine. As he starts to pull out of the parking and back onto the main road, Simon glances towards your figure huddled up in the passenger seat, already singing along to the first thing that came up on the radio, and wonders to himself just how much you’ll remember in the morning.

The last time he’d drank with you, you were completely out of business the next day, saying that you could hardly remember a thing from the night prior, and even then he wasn’t sure you were as intoxicated as you were currently. Deciding to have a bit of fun and take a chance Simon asks you:

“Hey lovie?”

“Mhm?”

“When I ask ya to marry me, what do ya think you’ll say?”

“Uh, I will say YES! Duh!” You reply, the answer obvious to you no matter what state you’re in. However, because you are in fact drunk, you then add “and then I’m gonna get down on my knees too Si, and I’m gonna give you the best bestest head in the whole world actually is what I will do.”

“Hm, okay.” He answers casually, keeping the urge to laugh contained for a bit longer, wanting to keep teasing you. “And uh, how many kids do you think you’re gonna want us to have?”

“Simon,” you playfully sing song to him, angling yourself to face towards him and reaching a finger out to try and poke his cheek, landing more towards his shoulder. “Do you have feelings for me or something?”

“Or somethin’” he says quickly, “Come on lovie, how many babies am I puttin’ in ya, hm?”

“Mmm, at least two I think. So that at Halloween, Simon oh my gosh, at Halloween! We can do a family costume and all be ghostbuste-”

“We’re not gonna be ghostbust-”

“We will be ghostbusters.” You nod to yourself, glancing away from him as his opinion is no longer valid, before changing your mind and looking at him with all the love you can muster at that moment. “Simon, it sounds like you liiiiiiiike meeeee.” You attempt to tease. “You wanna get married? And have babies?”

“‘Course I do, lovie.”

“You think about that?”

“Every day.”

“Every day?”

“Mhm.” He confirms, sending you his own loving look.

“Well you better get me my ring then mister, cause I like yoooouuu too.” You giggle, before gasping as the song changes and starting to sing along.

He watches you in the passenger seat, a content smile upon his face as he listens to you singing without a care in the world, unaware that Simon has had your ring picked out and purchased since your first kiss. He’s just been waiting for the right time to ask you. And now that you’ve unknowingly given him your own blessing, he’s not so sure he can wait much longer.

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

@seahorses-of-gold here's part 2 tumblr won't post it all at once

21) youll smell different but the body odor really isnt that bad as long as you shower and wear deodorant. perfume or cologne if you want. the reason people say it's bad is because the average person going through male puberty is a cisgender teen boy and they are not known for exemplary hygiene practices 22) if you are a tense person and cannot relax your muscles then shots are probably not for you. i switched to gel around month 3 because i couldn't loosen my leg muscles up enough to make shots not painful 23) best way to get full dosage of gel is to administer it in the proper site, rub in lightly with a silicone spatula (use the ones made from 1 piece not the ones you can separate into 2 pieces), and then rub it in fully with your fingers. the amount that doesnt get on you is minimal 24) get a new silicone spatula specifically for this and wash with soap and water and dry before each use. they air dry fast btw 25) dont shower until 4-5 hours after applying 26) month 5 is about when puberty facial hair began. it will be there but it's gonna be like what a 15 year old boy is so it's up to you what to do with that 27) months 6-10 are when i got the most useful changes. around month 6 i began passing very, very regularly and by month 8 i passed perfectly as a cis guy. im not the most masculine guy in the universe so definitely a gay one but a male nonetheless 28) the men's bathroom isnt that bad as long as you pass decently well. just go in and get your shit done (literally if you have to) then wash your hands leave. men dont talk in the bathroom btw 29) most cis guys dont care if you never use the urinals. a lot of them dont anymore either it's more fun to slack off on your phone in a stall 30) there's a lot of strength increases during this time and they can be fun yet difficult to deal with because you dont know how to use your body yet. i kept grabbing things too hard for a few weeks, many drinks in plastic cups were spilled 31) if your goal is to pass (as was mine) you can absolutely try to make it happen faster however there's no way to know exactly when this will happen. my goal was for it to be within 1-2 years but it clearly was faster 32) if someone who passes fast pretends they're better than you or they did something "better than you" don't listen! they can give you advice yet you will never be the same person and that's ok. do things at your own pace and be patient 33) one piece of advice im very comfortable giving is that a deep voice goes a long way for passing. of course the low and slow dosage works wonders and another tip i have is to speak on the lowest register you can comfortably handle each morning. then speak regularly for the rest of the day 34) you cant make squeaky guinea pig noises anymore :( 35) you can be stealth if you want to there's no need to tell everyone everything. 36) months 8-12 felt like figuring myself out again. i was comfortable in my transition, looked and sounded like a cis guy, and ready to be weird again. this was absolutely the most fun time for me even if there werent huge changes in terms of transitioning 37) it took around month 12 for me to notice how well i actually pass. i did say that other people noticed around month 6ish yet it took me much, much longer. 38) i talk a lot about passing here because that was very important to me but if that isnt your goal it's ok!! your transition is individual to you. 39) dont let go of everything feminine that you've ever liked to force yourself to be more "manly" you'll just be sad and bored. unless you really wanna be a super macho man then go for it. i have pink highlights, i love jewelry, i love cooking, i love embroidery, i love glitter and fluffy animals. these things make life fun and id love them even if I were cis

would anyone appreciate a list of what i've learnt on my first year of T? there were so many unexpected things that no one told me about and I think it could help a few people!

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[pseudowho]

"--and this is the staffroom," Gojo sing-songed, swinging open the door on your First Day Tour, with you a few steps behind him, "--ah! And that's Nanamin. Say hi, Nanamin!"

A tall, suited blond man looked up from his spot on the sofa as you peered in; at first, he simply nodded to you, disinterested. Then, Gojo spoke again while leading you out.

"--he's not very fun, don't worry-- no sense of humour."

Your final glimpse as the door closed, was of the blond man's irritated scowl.

It was true; Kento clearly didn't make people laugh, for he was either too mean or too subtle to be funny. This was the case, at least, until you. And you had no idea what your laughter did to him.

You had formed an alliance of respect, an easy bond that would have been camaraderie if not for Kento's standoffishness. You felt him hover nearby on joint missions, close enough to lunge to your rescue, but far enough that he could resist your magnetism.

Talking, and surveying the abandoned school, you spoke aloud as you walked down the stairs.

"So perhaps I'll take the East Wing, and you take the We--ergh!"

You reeled back, having walked headfirst into a buckled ceiling. Kento stepped to your aid, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and lifting your chin to look at your forehead. He huffed, barely a puff of breath through his nose, wiping dust from your forehead before grumbling.

"You'll be alright. Not much in there, anyway."

You burst into laughter, and Kento electrified, absolutely rigid. You patted his chest, still giggling as you walked away, cooing back over your shoulder in a way that utterly melted him.

"So mean."

You soon learned that Nanami Kento was possibly the funniest man at Jujutsu High. Dry and unforgiving in a way that made your brittle colleagues crumble, you found yourself, instead, choking back laughter every time he crippled one with another savage put-down.

When Yuuji arrived late to a mission, Kento stepped over to him and, poe-faced, pulled up his shirtsleeve to show Yuuji his wrist.

"This," Kento hummed, flat, "is a watch. You can buy one at any good supermarket."

When a waiter slopped coffee over Kento's shoulder, Kento dabbed at it to the waiter's frantic, apologetic bowing. Kento raised a placating hand and insisted to the confused waiter.

"It's alright. I never liked this suit anyway."

When you stood at the staffroom window with him, watching a monsoon in companionable silence, Kento murmured over the rim of his mug.

"Lovely day."

He had timed it just-so, and barely concealed his lopsided smirk when you choked on your tea. Shoko walked in, drenched, looking at you and Kento in dismay. You coughed, opening your mouth to speak, but Kento got there first, firing shots.

"Is it raining?"

Shoko scoffed, sputtering, while you buckled against the windowsill.

Kento grabbed a hand towel and an umbrella, heading to the door. As Shoko reached for the towel, Kento pressed the umbrella into her hands instead, his expression flat, but his voice edged with a feral pleasure that made you come undone.

"You'll need this."

Kento's meanness was tempered only by his self-deprecation, and when you took as good as you gave, you felt his icey facade melt away completely, revealing such warmth.

It was no wonder you were drawn to each other, when the only reason neither of you laughed together, was because you were in a constant stand-off for who could remain poe-faced the longest. Kento always won.

Still, you felt the need to break him; you had cracked smiles, or the occasional chuckle out of him, but nothing more. You knew nothing more than the truest irony would do it.

The day came; you arrived, to your usual staffroom rendezvous, covered in blood. Kento paled, abandoning his book to rise immediately and reach you in three long strides.

"--you're hurt-- we'll go to Sho--"

"Kento. Stop. It's not my blood-- it's Gojo's."

Kento did a double-take, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, so you explained.

"Gojo invited himself to teach me about Curses that are 'above my paygrade', so he took me to one. I told him this Curse was clearly more powerful than it looked, and Gojo told me to step back so he could handle it. Said he'd even do it without his Infinity on. So I stepped back."

Kento's nose flared, barely perceptible.

"...and?"

You took a deep breath. "So, Gojo has a broken nose--"

Kento broke down with a wheeze, before bursting into a rich, deep rolling laughter that split the clouds with sun. His hands clasped the windowsill, his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders shook with wicked, throaty mirth.

You felt yourself becoming drunk off him, utterly intoxicated by his laughter. Kento couldn't stop himself, trembling with schadenfreude to the point of indecency.

Finally, sighing and straightening as if exhausted, Kento wiped his eyes with the side of his finger, and smiled at you with sweet adoration. Laughter still threatened to break through as he begged you.

"Would you-- would you like to go out for dinner? With me?"

You paused, your expression pained.

"Ah...no. No, thank you."

Kento froze, his face beginning to fall. You looked down at yourself, and announced, still deadpan.

"It's just-- I'm covered in blood, you see--"

That sent Kento over the edge again.

You remained content throughout the years of your marriage, for Nanami Kento to be viewed by others as boring and humourless. You found yourself jealously greedy of his rare laughter, anyway.

After marriage, you viewed it as the highest badge of honour to make him laugh like that while he was buried inside you.