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malereadermaniac · 5 months ago

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Arranged Marriage ~ Byakuya Togami x Male Reader

The Togami's never get a choice in their partner, the choice is made for them to the benefit of the family; whether that be for more heirs to be made, or to join forces with other families Partially inspired by 'The swan princess' - 'This is my idea' Regular, non-despair au - Top!Byakuya x Bottom!Reader word count: 1.3k Sfw & Nsfw (headcannon form) / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

You had known Byakuya since you were both very young. Everyone knows of the affluent Togami's, and most people know that arranged marriages are common for them; however you wouldn't expect the arrangements to start so early. Ever since the age of seven, your summers were either spent within the Togami's main mansion, or the Togami's spent their summers in the (l/n)'s mansion. Your parents (the powerful, yet less than Togami, (l/n)'s) had done everything in their power to ensure that you were to marry into the Togami's via Byakuya; from suggesting a powerful alliance to his parents in meetings, to outright proposing that you two boys wed. Shockingly, Byakuya's parents were very open to the idea - your family was the next most powerful in the country, and it would not only benefit the Togami empire but also the family's face in the public eye; a gay marriage within the mostly traditional Togami family would surely uplift their image. So, every single summer since you two boys were seven has been spent together; whether you like it or not!

And good lord did you both hate spending time together. Unlike the BORING Togami heir, you had a bit more pep in your step - which inevitably led to you annoying the hell out of the affluent progeny. You would try to convince the blonde to play some game with you but ultimately get ignored in favour of whatever book the boy was fixating on that day, or Byakuya would play along with your game but make fun of you the whole time! And as the two of you got older, your relationship stayed the same - mutual dislike, for changing reasons however...

At the age of 14, Byakuya found himself still annoyed by you, yet not due to the sound of your voice of your obnoxiously high levels of energy, rather because you were one of the few people on his level! In fact, you were above his level most of the time. No matter what the young blonde would do, you would one-up him constantly; you have won almost every game of cards the two of you have played, the two of you have always tied on your 'over-summer' academics, and the affluent adolescent could never impress you with his riches due to your parents buying you things to try and impress the Togami's! Byakuya had grown up with the idea that he needs to be above everyone else in all facets of life, so you coming along and beating him at everything made the rich teen see RED. However, every night, of every summer you two were spending together, Togami's parents would remind him that the two of you were pre-destined to be together, and that the blonde 'must accommodate for his future'.

Later, at the age of 18, your presence annoyed Byakuya for different reasons. This time, for reasons he chose not to think too deeply about. It was a known fact throughout the entire country that as you two young boys had grown up, puberty had done you both very nicely - tabloids and online forums wouldn't stop discussing how dashing the Togami heir looked in recent photos, and many times you were also discussed. Your perfect skin, your lips, your body, your hair, your personality; you were praised and adored more and more everyday. Byakuya wasn't jealous of this though, he'd get hit on constantly at events and other such things. What specifically annoyed the blonde was the fact that people acted on their liking of your looks; and worse, that you responded to advances. Again, Byakuya would never analyse his emotions too much, because he'd realise that he was in fact jealous that other men were getting your attention, however he would feel irked and pissed off whenever he saw you flirt/be flirted at by staff. The heir has fired many body guards of his and house staff due to them taking a liking to you, and Byakuya has also been a dick in passing to staff at your own home which flirts with you. But again, Byakuya's jealousy of others receiving your affection isn't something he dwelled on, very rarely would the handsome man think about his feelings late at night and spend hours spiraling about the possibility of him actually liking you!

At the age of 20, it fully dawned on Byakuya just how charming you truly were. Sure, you were the heir of an inferior family, and an annoying man at that, however during the summer you had both turned 20 the blonde truly couldn't deny his feelings towards you. Byakuya had come a long way from when you were both young boys, he had gone from his father forcing him to kiss your hand every time the two of you met to kissing your hand voluntarily. Byakuya was awe struck by you; not just by your looks, but by your kindness to others (something he'd never though he'd cherish or admire), and also due to the way you complimented him so nicely - like two pieces of a puzzle, you and Byakuya just fit together, not overlapping but rather harmonising. The smug look on both your parents' faces was enough to make you two men want to argue once again, just to wipe the satisfied looks off of their faces, however you simply couldn't. The summer you two turned 20 was the first time the two of you didn't mind spending time together. Byakuya had finally put down his books in favour of talking to you and getting to know you, and you couldn't deny just how attractive that was from him; the handsome, rich man was interested in you, and not even sexually like other men you had sneaked around with, but rather he was interested in speaking with you.

At the age of 22, the time had come for you two heirs to fulfill your responsibilities; via inheriting your places as heads of the family, and by marrying each other. But unlike how you'd thought your wedding day would go as children, you cried tears of joy rather than of frustration - Byakuya spoke his vows with truth coating his tongue and lips, and you both celebrated the day rather than giving fake speeches and smiles. And the night of your wedding was well spent as well; don't you worry!

As you'd expect, Byakuya is so god damn DOMINANT

His body is also sooo perfect - slim, muscular, tall, he's really just made to ooze sex appeal

The blonde barely has to even speak in sentences to have you on your knees at the foot of your (now) shared bed

His dick is average, a nice fit; skinny and a little veiny, 6-7inches, and his pubes are perfectly trimmed and well kept

Byakuya loves to always feel in control, his masculine fingers threatening through your hair to control your pace as you suck his dick with surprisingly good skill

He also really likes to eat you out, the small noises you make egging Byakuya on as he pushes his warm, wet tongue into your hole along with two of his long fingers

This man is also so into dirty talk, calling you nasty and whorish for enjoying his dick ramming into your ass

But the moment Byakuya lays his eyes on you as your back arches up off of the bed and your dick twitches as you shoot your load..? all the sexy man can say is 'pretty'

Exhibitionism is also something your HUSBAND enjoys on the low - your poor staff!

Seriously, Byakuya loves either getting walked in on as he's wrecking you in doggy, or he really likes to call staff in when they need something, making them watch as you keep sucking his dick under his desk/ as he cums inside of you/ as Byakuya makes out with you desperately as the two of you dry-hump into each other

But in summary, Byakuya can't get enough of you, he'd never thought that he'd be able to say that: he fucking loves you...

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1d1195 · 3 months ago

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Honey IV

Read Honey here | ~5.6k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, pining, another mini daddy-kink moment . A smidge of jealous Harry (more NIALL 😍)

Summary: “If y’want t’come to the office t’deliver it, y’could,” he said quietly.

“Aw, just want to see Miss Cecelia at lunch?” She asked with a smile.

For the first time in six months, Harry wasn’t thinking about Cece when he thought about her coming to the office for a visit. He wasn’t thinking about all his employees fawning over the little baby. The only thought he had regarded the pretty girl in his kitchen that was so thoughtful and kind to his little family.

Playing house with the pretty woman that lived a few rooms over from him was becoming a dangerous pastime for Harry. The way she looked so at ease with Cece on her hip. How she cooked and cleaned because she wanted to. It was immensely irritating solely because Harry was thinking things he shouldn’t. Thinking inappropriate things about how quickly he could give Cece a sibling.

Harry was getting to know her more and more as time moved on. After almost four months it seemed like it was time. She was a little closed off. Never invited friends over—especially after that one date she had ended with her so upset. But he did meet a few of them through FaceTime. The girls she was friends with seemed a little tongue tied but they gushed over Cece and asked when they could come see her place. But her happy, cheerful attitude seemed unbelievably resilient regarding her date fiasco. There were no men she mentioned which was good from Harry’s perspective.

He couldn’t deny he was rapidly falling for her, and he couldn’t stop himself. For Christmas, she had a giftbag on the counter beside a treat box in addition to his daily leftovers. “Could you bring that to Niall?” She asked while setting toast with jam in front of him. Harry’s eyes followed her as she flitted about the kitchen. “He said he was going to Ireland for Christmas,” she explained.

He scowled. He didn’t care if it was ridiculous or if she would read into it, if he would read into it. “Do y’do this for everyone in your life? Or are y’in love with Niall?”

She laughed. “I love Niall, but not like that.”

He was lucky Cece was gurgling so much or he might have asked why—was there someone else or did Niall repulse her? He hoped it was the latter more than anything. He would seriously struggle if it was the former. “Do you and Cece have plans today?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Just the usual library and a little walk,” she turned and leaned against the counter. “Why?”

“If y’want t’come to the office t’deliver it, y’could,” he said quietly.

“Aw, just want to see Miss Cecelia at lunch?” She asked with a smile.

Chloe would have loved her, and he hoped that was enough.

“Yeah, she’s getting so big,” he frowned. His little love was nearing six-months. It was killing him. Her first Christmas was about to come and pass. He bought her so much stuff and she wouldn’t even know it was Christmas other than pictures he would keep forever.

“She’s still little,” she cooed and sat on the stool beside Harry and turned to look at them. “You ready to try some solid food, cutie pie?”

Harry stiffened as Cece looked at her passively while drinking her bottle. But his stiffness didn’t pass by her. She was too attuned for him to sneak anything by her.

She encouraged Harry to take an online class about introducing solid food to Cece. It was terrifying to listen to. But she was CPR certified (because of course she was) and Harry was signed up for that next, but she promised to be right beside him when Harry tried to give her avocado for the first time—which was right now. “This is a Daddy moment,” she told him. If he wasn’t so distraught he would think about how that word in her mouth made him crazier for her. “It’ll be awesome,” she promised squeezing his knee. “She’s not even going to eat it, she’s probably just going to mush it around on the high chair.”

Harry wanted no part of Cece growing up. “Can’t y’jus’ stay little, baby girl?” He cooed and kissed her hair. “I’ll give y’anything y’want,” he bargained.

She giggled, getting up and bringing the highchair over in front of him. Harry took a deep breath feeling like he was going to die a little bit and deposited his daughter in the seat. She looked so little, but she was gurgling and smiling at him.

“Daddy loves avocado,” she said knowingly, carrying a plate of thick slices over to the pair of them. “Let me get my camera ready,” she said taking her phone out and pulling the stool out a little distance away. “Okay, Cece, action,” she joked and watched as Harry patiently waited for her to acknowledge the food.

It didn’t take long, she reached out and immediately squished one of the slices between her fingers. “Is it squishy?” He wrinkled his nose and kissed her forehead. “Is it so squishy?” He repeated, making her giggle. She shoved her hand toward her mouth, making Harry excessively nervous by the amount that was in her hand and how tiny her mouth was. His gaze anxiously flickered to her behind her phone.

“That’s so good, Cece,” she encouraged with a grin and winking at Harry, so he knew not to be nervous, and it wouldn’t ruin the video of such an important memory. He took a deep breath and tried to savor the moment.

She paused her video. “Put some on your finger and then hold it out to her lips to try,” she told him settling her phone in her lap for a moment. She took some of the avocado from the plate as a demonstration with her index finger. Barely any appearing when she showed Harry and then she pressed her finger to her lips before she picked her phone back up. Harry wondered if anyone in the history of the world had ever been turned on by the prettiest woman eating avocado off her fingertip in front of a baby. That had to be a record. “Ready?” She asked.

Harry did as she showed him and nodded. “All set,” he smiled sweetly as she grabbed her phone again. “Ready baby?” He asked and held his finger right in front of her lips. She was still squishing her hand near her mouth but as far as Harry could tell, none had gone in. But Harry’s finger appeared much more interesting to the little one and she immediately put her lips to his index finger. He chuckled as she sucked on it, smacked her lips together so cutely that both of them laughed at the little noise. There was a quiet pause as Cece’s face morphed into a frown that was downright comical on her little lips and then she burst into tears.

Their laughter continued for a moment as Harry grabbed a wipe and rubbed her face of all she had left behind. “Oh, was that so icky?” Harry clucked and kissed her little cheeks where tears had fallen. “Good, y’can be m’baby for a while longer and we’ll only have bubbas,” he promised. “No growing up for us,” he scooped her out of the seat, avocado getting on his suit, but he didn’t care.

“Harry,” her voice was soft. He turned to her, catching the kind look in her eye. “Do you offer parental leave at your company?”

All of the air left his lungs. It was a miracle he didn’t drop his daughter. He hoped his face remained unaffected because he felt anything but unaffected.

If she was pregnant, Harry was going to scream. It took him a solid minute of focusing on the smell of Cece: baby shampoo and mashed avocado. When would she have gotten pregnant? Of course, more importantly, who got her pregnant made him worry he was going to squeeze Cece too tight if he asked.

As far as Harry knew, she hadn’t left the house in months to go on a date. He cleared his throat, swallowed the rock that lodged itself in his esophagus. “Well... yeah, of course I do.”

“Did you use it?” She asked, her voice still quiet.

Harry blinked. He wasn’t expecting that question. “What?”

“Did you take your parental leave?”

“Well...no. But s’a little different when y’own the company.”

“Harry,” she frowned. Then he realized. She was not pregnant, thank fuck. Naturally she was asking on behalf of Harry, making sure that he was taken care of because that’s what she did. “You need to take it,” her smile was so lovely. “It’s the perfect time, it’s the holiday season and then you’ll have your birthday—”

Holy shit. “How do y’know when m’birthday is?”

“Because I own a phone with internet?” She rolled her eyes. Harry snorted. “It doesn’t matter if you’re the CEO, Harry. You deserve time with your baby as much as anyone else.”

“I can’t exactly leave, leave.”

“Then you should only work one day a week! You own the company. You could do whatever you want,” she reminded him. “You will regret not taking this time, I promise. Please take it, you deserve it. Cece deserves it too.”

Harry felt a tightness in his throat. “Well, what ‘bout you?”

“What about me?”

He glanced away, leaving kisses on top of Cece’s head. He took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was come off as creepy asking her to stay in his house even if she wasn’t... needed.

Even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“If m’home... then...”

“Oh,” she blinked, understanding immediately. If Harry was home, she didn’t really need to be there. She shrugged. “I mean, I can probably stay with Niall for a couple months. I would of course be happy to watch her on the day you go into work.”

“You’re not staying with Niall,” he grumbled. “You can stay here, obviously. M’not firing you.”

“Phew!” She smiled wiping fake sweat off her forehead. “I could go visit my family, then.”

“They’re not... coming here?” He asked.

Harry had it all arranged, he was going to take Cece to visit his family for the weekend, she could have the house to herself. She could trash it for all he cared. As long as she was happy. He knew how important her family was to her.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t tell you,” she cleared her throat. “They told me last night... so yeah, no,” she looked at her lap. “My little brother would be away from his girlfriend—his first girlfriend so it’s a big deal. It would be too much to get everyone else here, too. They’re probably right. I mean I’m just one person,” she shrugged but Harry could see how much it hurt her to say it. She had been planning for weeks. Presents had been overflowing in her bedroom. Recipes had lined the counter for Harry to decide which ones were best and if he was willing to be a guinea pig for them. If they only told her last night, then they had to have known early on that they never intended to come because there was no way they were booking last-minute flights.

The poor thing.

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he frowned. Cece made a noise that sounded like she was agreeing with him which at least made her smile.

“Thank you, and you,” she pinched softly at Cece’s thigh.

“Well... y’should go be with them regardless of m’leave... But I’ll go talk t’HR today.”

“Honestly?” she swallowed. “I don’t want to. I have done all the traveling for... years. Obviously, I don’t have my own place so I can’t host and so I was so thankful when you offered and,” her voice broke, and she looked away from Harry. Her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. She tried to hide how she felt. How dare her family make her sad. She didn’t deserve that. “Anyway,” she stared at her lap. “You did a great job Daddy,” she winked and rubbed his arm as she grabbed the avocado from the highchair and brought it toward the counter in the other room. Harry was sitting there stunned by how she could break his heart and turn him on in the same minute.

“You’re not going to eat that are you?” He wrinkled his nose hoping to distract himself before he professed his love for her or asked to bend her over the counter.

“What are Cece’s hands suddenly unclean from all her hard work in the yard?” She asked sarcastically, but her mouth most definitely already had the mushed avocado in it.

How was he going to convince this sweet, perfect, hilarious woman to hang out with him while on leave?

On Christmas, she slept in. It seemed silly to get up when no one would be there. She figured at least she could set out her gifts for Harry and Cece now. She didn’t want Harry to think that he had to get her anything, so she had been monitoring the hundreds of gifts he had put beneath the tree making sure that none had her name on it. Some gifts were wrapped and but most were unwrapped because Cece would be none the wiser.

She was certain no one could love a daughter more than Harry loved Cece.

Merry Christmas she texted to her family. Love and miss you

Her brother reacted with a thumbs up.

Baby bro, your love is 😍 overwhelming

🙄

Merry Christmas, sis her older brother texted. Love you

Their gifts would be delivered late because she didn’t know they weren’t coming. But she thought that was kind of nice, extending the holiday season. Climbing out of the bed, she went to her bathroom and brushed her teeth.

Merry Christmas she had the message typed out to send to Harry but worried it was weird to send. She was hoping to see a picture of her favorite six-month-old in the little Christmas dress Gemma had sent. Maybe Harry was feeling awkward as well because there was no reason he should send her a picture of Cece. It wasn’t necessary.

Deleting the message, she grabbed the box of presents she had been stashing in her walk-in closet in case Harry happened into her room. Harry was impossible to shop for. He was rich as hell and didn’t need anything. But when he insisted on shopping with her a few months back, she got a chance to see what his eyes lingered on and what his style was like outside of tailored suits and fancy wine.

Harry probably could afford the entire inventory of the silly little department store they went to, but he didn’t rush her. He didn’t mind walking around pushing a stroller. He even found something he wanted to buy. Then he pointed at things he thought she would like, and she was glad he was right. It made her feel seen.

She tried to shove the thoughts away of Harry because frankly, she was going to miss them for the weekend. She was lonely and the holiday only amplified that feeling.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Her heart fluttered and she sniffed the air realizing the smell of something baked and delicious was coming from the kitchen.

“Harry?” She asked.

“So close, Ce,” he chuckled. She hurried to the kitchen, dropping the overflowing box on the counter. “What the hell is that?” He asked, pointing the tongs he had poised over the waffle maker at the presents. “Y’didn’t get her anything, did you?”

“What are you doing here?” She asked in shock. Cece was sitting in her highchair mashing a banana into the table in front of her as well as her face and hair. She giggled at the sight of her favorite friend and Harry smiled.

“Y’thought Miss Cecelia would let y’be alone on Christmas?”

“Harry,” she put a hand on her chest and a tidal wave of tears and emotions cut off her voice. “What about—”

“Well, we didn’t think y’would come t’Mum’s. Even though y’would be more than welcome. So Mum and Gem and everyone are going t’come here.”

She moved her hand to her throat, anxiety clogging it. “No, they’re not. Harry! I don’t have presents for them!”

“Love, y’don’t need t’have presents for them. I figured y’could just cook and bake all those recipes y’had picked out. Trust me that will be plenty—”

She slammed into his body without warning. He dropped the tongs on the kitchen floor and blinked in surprise at the sweet girl snuggling into his body as her shoulders shook. “Why are y’crying, Miss Honey?” He asked quietly. He wound one arm around her waist and cupped the back of her head with the other. Fortunately, he stopped himself before he kissed the top of her hair. She shook her head unable to answer as she cried. But Harry didn’t need an answer. He already knew. After several moments of her tears, he finally spoke again. “Happy Christmas, Miss Honey.”

She sniffled, ducked her head, avoiding his eyes. “Do those have chocolate chips in them?” Her voice had a slight breathy tone having just finished crying.

“Course.”

“This is the best job in the world.”

She was so good at everything.

Even board games.

“Why are we even playing this?” He grumbled as she landed on a triple word score spot.

“Because it’s raining,” she giggled. Harry was a businessman. A competitive one. Watching her win at Scrabble was not good for his ego. He grumbled something about how this was unfair. “You wanted to play.”

At the time the rain was sheeting against the front window. It was Saturday and she had another delicious soup simmering on the stovetop waiting to enhance the day. Harry had already watched her read on the sofa snuggled under a blanket and couldn’t believe how much he wanted to lay his head in her lap and fall asleep with her hand in his hair. So he figured playing a board game would keep him from thinking inappropriate thoughts about his employee.

But if he knew she was going to annihilate him like this, he would have let her keep reading. He and Cece spent time playing in her room to give Miss Honey ample time to herself. Harry only brought her out so he could shower after his workout at the gym he had on the basement floor. It was mainly weights which was her least favorite thing so she asked Harry if she could buy a treadmill to put in the gym since it was long since, too cold for her swims (which of course, the very best treadmill was going to be delivered the following week after the conversation).

When he came out of the bathroom, Miss Honey and Cece were rolling on the floor and giggling at each other. Harry didn’t want the day to end so before she left the room, he asked if she would want to play a board game. “I didn’t know y’were going t’hustle me,” he rolled his eyes.

But he loved the way her giggle sounded. He liked how she looked effortlessly comfortable sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table while Harry sat with Cece in her little crescent pillow watching while snuggling with her favorite stuffy. “Hustle you? It’s Scrabble!”

“So jus’ because s’not poker y’can’t hustle me?”

“No poker I would actually hustle you.”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but fall in love with the funny bantering tone in her voice. “Do y’hear this Cece? Miss Honey isn’t so sweet after all.”

She smiled, delight flittering in her eyes. She crawled around the coffee table firing the flame of a fantasy Harry didn’t know he had, and she stopped in front of Cece’s little chair. “Is Daddy a sore loser, Cece?” She cooed. “Is Daddy so silly?” She leaned forward and kissed her cheek while tickling her tummy. Harry swore there was something in his brain that short circuited every time she said Daddy. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate,” she said standing up.

“It’s your turn!” He protested.

Without looking back, she shrugged. “Skip it; I don’t need it.”

He grumbled something under his breath and simultaneously wondered if he was the first person to ever be turned on while playing Scrabble. How was losing to her so hot? Her smugness maybe? It was a side of her that she didn’t see that often.

Fortunately, something shattered in the kitchen that grabbed his attention back before he thought about how even with a skipped turn, there wasn’t a chance he could win. “Shit,” she hissed.

“Love?” He asked, snagging Cece out of her mini chair, he kissed her on the forehead and put her in her rocking swing. He hurried to the kitchen entryway.

“Hold on!” She said, holding her hand out to stop him. There’s glass everywhere,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry, I hope that wasn’t an important mug,” she frowned.

The mug didn’t matter. Not even a little. “Are you okay?” He asked. She was frozen in place.

“Yeah, I’m fine... Can you grab my shoes by the door?”

Harry was already wearing his slippers, so he ignored her and brushed the glass out of the way with his foot. In his next move he reached low around the back of her thighs, wrapping his arms snuggly just below her butt. “Whoa,” she whispered unsteadily as he lifted her as if she were no heavier than Cece. Her heart tumbled in her chest at about three thousand rotations per second. Part of her thought she was going to pass out, but he settled her on the counter and walked away as if that was nothing. Her body felt like it was a thousand degrees. She wished Harry had a nanny cam. She would have watched her get picked up by him like it was her favorite movie. Blinking, she glanced at the living room where Cece was watching the little mobile above her, unaware that she was completely in love with her dad.

Harry returned with the broom and swept all the pieces up. Still not holding her shoes. “Harry, my shoe—”

“I got it, love.”

“Well, I need to get down. I’m not letting you skip all my turns,” she reminded him. He chuckled ignoring her. “At least let me get the vacuum cleaner to make sure,” he didn’t even attempt to help her. “What’s your plan—”

“I’ll jus’ carry you,” he smirked with a shrug.

She really wished for a nanny cam. It seemed Harry was taking his sweet time and left her trapped. He knelt down in front of her to get pieces that slid beneath the overhang of the lower cabinets. Which made her cheeks flame because he was so close to her knee she could have bumped him with it. Was he doing it on purpose? No, he didn’t view her that way. He was a professional, a much better professional than she was.

He left again to grab the vacuum cleaner and turned it on.

Perhaps she was a little too flustered, a little cooped up in Harry’s nice house, because the gorgeous, intelligent, and kind CEO that was vacuuming might have been one of the sexiest things she had ever seen. She loved seeing him each morning in a tailored suit. When he got home wearing his button down that was unbuttoned at the top? She was glad Cece was in bed so she wouldn’t see her eye-fucking her father even if he was her boss while he continued working at the kitchen counter and ate his dinner.

But Harry lounging on the weekend? Sweatpants, a tight t-shirt that hugged every rigid muscle? She was a goner and only so lucky that Cece was in the other room and couldn’t see.

The drone of the vacuum stopped, and Harry smiled at her. “Think I got it all. Y’should be able t’get down... go take your turn while I put this away.” She was pretty sure that was a reminder since she was obviously stupefied by Harry’s hotness. But truthfully, she thought her legs would give out if she tried to stand. “Are you okay?” Harry asked.

She nodded, then shook her head, and hopped down from the counter. “Yes, just a little...” she blinked trying to keep her mind focused on her commanding Scrabble lead. “The weather makes me sleepy.”

As if on cue, the power went out.

“Shit,” Harry muttered.

She grabbed her phone and turned on the flashlight grateful for the dark to hide her hot cheeks and distracted Harry from wondering why she was so flustered.

Leaving Harry in the kitchen, she returned to the living room and scooped Cece out of the swing. “Well, sweet girl, I guess it’s bedtime,” she giggled. There was a very distinct noise that came from behind her. “You absolutely did not bump the board,” she said into the dark.

“Of course not!” Harry sounded defensive, and also very guilty.

“Daddy, is a very sore loser, Cece,” she whispered and kissed her head.

She used her flashlight to glance at her lost lead and shook her head before turning the light on the offending party. Harry was all delicious smiles and dimples. He pulled his phone from his pocket and used the light to help guide them to Cece’s room. “Hmm,” she hummed looking at the dark room as she passed Cece to Harry.

“Let’s get you t’bed, sweet girl,” he cooed and kissed her cheek. He turned to the changing table while she started searching through all of Cece’s toys in the closet.

“I know it’s in here,” she murmured to herself. The thunder cracked loudly overhead, and she jumped in surprise dropping her phone on the floor.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked.

“Yeah, just jumpy.”

“None of your books are ghost stories?”

She snorted. “Not even close... here we are.”

The room glowed with stars all across Cece’s ceiling coming from the lights all over the back of a stuffed turtle. She watched Harry glance around. “Hmm,” he hummed. “S’pretty,” he mumbled. Harry was bathed in a cool bluish and purple glow. His skin seemed to downright sparkle as the color passed over him. He was so pretty.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the nightlight on the floor and Harry kissed Cece again before he gently placed her in the crib. “Good night my love,” he said sweetly rubbing his hand on her stomach.

“Night Cece, sleep tight,” she leaned over just the same and rubbed her hand on Cece’s stomach the same way Harry had. The two of them left, the only light came from their flashlights pointed at their feet.

“Do y’want a rematch?” He asked.

“In the dark?”

“Good point. I was thinking we could jus’ light some candles. If you’re too scared t’lose, I understand.”

She laughed. A candlelit board game was probably the opposite of what would settle her heart. It was bedtime for Cece but still a bit early for two grown adults. She worried she was keeping Harry up because maybe he didn’t want to hang out with her now that the power was out. Now there was nothing to do but really go to sleep because it was too dark to do anything else.

“Um... we don’t have to do this, if you want to go to bed. I imagine you’re tired and going to bed when the power is out makes me feel less guilty,” she shook her head grateful for the dark, so he didn’t have to see her embarrassment.

“I’ll go easy on you,” he joked grabbing candles from the cabinet in the kitchen island.

She snorted. As if she needed that. “No... it’s just... you’re right. It’s dark and it’s silly. I’m sure you’re tired.”

The candles were battery operated. So he wouldn't feel anxious if he forgot to turn them off. She grabbed a few and headed down the hall to the bathroom and turned them on. Once more something Harry wouldn't think about on his own, but she just naturally knew to do.

“S’like eight o’clock on a Saturday night. I know I'm a dad but m’not that old.”

Harry wanted to hang out with her. Her heart felt like it was beating too hard.

Fuck it. “Fair enough,” she laughed. “Do you wanna tell ghost stories then?”

Harry laughed. It was pure, unfiltered, and unaffected by anything. How often did he get moments like this? She was going to make him go to bed at eight on a Saturday? She could control her lovesick emotions for another couple hours.

Hopefully.

At some point they abandoned the game. Harry was losing again, and he kept blaming the lack of light on his performance. “Cece’s mum would have loved you,” Harry murmured quietly.

Her heart fluttered. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “We were friends,” he shrugged. “Not in love.”

“Oh, I always kind of wondered if the articles were true.”

“Chloe was bubbly and fun. She loved Cece with her whole heart the entire time she was pregnant and before...” he trailed off. “She didn’t have any family, so it was jus’... our weird little family.”

She wanted to hear more but didn’t want to press. “She’s beautiful,” she thought of the picture that she posed Cece with the last four months on the little blanket that showed off how big Cece was getting.

“S’why Cece is so pretty,” the dark was a good cover so that Harry couldn’t see her slam her tongue between her teeth to keep from saying he was just as much a part of it. “I hope she’s smart and bubbly like her too.”

“You’re doing a great job,” she reminded him. “You know that, right?”

He shrugged. “M’not around a lot.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know, Harry. You have no idea what some families are like. You are...” she smiled. “You’re the best dad,” she promised. “Cece is a lucky girl.”

He tilted his head at her, and she was right; candlelight was horrible for her heart. He was so pretty. “When’s your birthday?”

“What?”

“Birthday? Cake, candles, presents...?”

She swallowed. “It already past.”

“Before y’moved in?” He asked. Was that hope in his voice? She felt guilty. Harry was unbearably kind. She knew it would upset him that he missed it. She shook her head. He stared at her. His eyes unblinking and bubbling with frustration. Even in the dark. “When?”

“When you went on your business trip,” she whispered.

Another pause. She was pretty sure he already knew. “Which day?”

She took a deep breath. “Monday,” she mumbled.

“When I yelled at you?”

“I don’t think about that literally ever. I think about Cece and how scared we were that something was wrong with her and that the phones—”

“Did anyone even say Happy Birthday to you?”

“I think Niall did. But only at like ten minutes of midnight. He didn’t know and he saw it in a post on my Facebook wall.”

There was a tense silence that followed.

“Why didn’t y’say anything?”

“I mean... I’m not...” she shrugged. “It’s just a birthday. I’m not really a party person and it was a Monday. My friends have work and... I’m usually the party planner so quite frankly they probably forgot. But it’s okay. It’s...it’s just a birthday,” but she didn’t sound convinced. She put so much effort into her friend’s special days. Making sure they had a cupcake, a present, and a dinner or gathering of their choosing. She shook her head. “I just remembered I left the stove on before the power went out. I’m going to turn it off in case it comes back on in the middle of the night.”

Harry’s phone was close to dying, but he didn’t care.

Did she get you something for your birthday?

Three months ago? Yeah. A cupcake and a gift if I recall. Can’t wait to see what she cooks up for your birthday.

Did you get her something for her birthday?

Yeah.

...

Didn’t you?

Harry could hear her putting the soup into containers and putting them into the fridge.

“We should probably put another blanket on Cece,” she called quietly. “I need another sweatshirt. Do you need another sweatshirt? I think I saw one in the laundry pile.”

Her sweetness was going to kill Harry.

I didn’t KNOW her birthday happened

Oh man, you’re FUCKED.

“I think I won again,” she said proudly, returning to the living room putting a sweatshirt on over her head. “I put another blanket on Cece. Do you want to play again?”

“Fuck it,” he whispered, dropped his phone on the couch, knocked the board over as he moved quickly around the coffee table half blind from the soft candlelight. Without breaking eye contact, he kissed her. His hands slid in her hair staticky with the effort of her sweatshirt mussing with her hair. She moaned instantly.

“Harry,” her voice sounded worn. Like a half-groan, half-pained. It made Harry shiver as his lips attached to her throat and he kissed down. “Harry, wait...”

“Wait what, love?” He murmured. “I can’t do this anymore,” his hands slid down her sides.

“We were playing a game...” but her voice was airy. Uncertain.

His lips were back on hers. Causing her to lose focus. Restructuring her thoughts of what it would feel like when she thought about it a hundred times before. Harry pulled back, his gaze searingly hot on her eyes. “I’m done playing, kitten.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

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@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

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@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo

Honey: @jerseygirlinca @one-sweet-gubler

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

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johnbrand · 4 months ago

Text

Man-Up Camp

With @gassydumbjocks

Just to make it clear, Joel had no problems with his son being gay. Tanner had grown up a decent young man, now almost 25 and working in the bioengineering field. But throughout his childhood and adolescence, Joel has fostered quite the effeminate son. It made no sense regarding Joel's background. Obsessed with sports, passionate about drinking beer, supporting his family through thick and thin. He was not conservative, but such a traditionally masculine man should not have reared the pinkest pony on the block.

Science and gender studies over business and sports management, Christina Aguilera over Garth Brooks. Heck, Joel had even been excited to have the talk with his son, but instead the discussion turned into Tanner explaining how bottoming worked! All Joel had wished for was a real man of a son, someone he could be proud of. So after hearing of a fantastical “Man-Up Camp”, Joel decided to send his son in. Tanner was almost past the point of young adulthood, so Joel did not want to waste any more time than necessary.

Everything happened fast after Joel’s payment had gone through. Tanner had exited the lab building for the night after a long day of research. Minding his own business and walking on the sidewalk while listening to the music, he had not even noticed when the camp's van suddenly pulled up beside him. Out hopped two burly men, and suddenly Tanner felt a sharp prickling in his neck followed by another in his side. Once out cold, the men were easily able to haul the twink into the van and head off to camp.

When Tanner eventually awoke, he was greeted by a taller lad with tanned skin, a beefy frame, and an already-noticeable obnoxious personality. The hunky man was only wearing some gym shorts, airing out his musk into the small, concrete room.

"Wha…what’s going on?” Tanner’s high voice squeaked, noticing he was tied up.

“Welcome to Man-Up Camp, bro!”

Within a moment’s notice, the jock approached and quickly shoved his victim’s head into one of the hairiest armpits Tanner had ever seen. After about 30 seconds, the jock released Tanner, revealing the twink’s sweat and funky grime-covered face.

"Thought you’d like that, sissy boy,” the jock taunted, motioning to Tanner’s small, erect dick before leaning in with a:

BOOUUUURRRPPP!

"Ugh, god..." Tanner grumbled as he swallowed the nasty smoke. Before he could recover, the jock had already turned around, raising a leg before grunting.

PPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!

The putrid smell dove right for Tanner, penetrating into his skin as it was absorbed. This process of funk exposure would continue for a few hours. The jock would go back and forth between all different methods of emanating stench, a way of directing pure masculine DNA.

As Joel had read online, the unadulterated toxicity would erode away at the drugged client, contaminating until their being was soaked in what was deemed as “undeniably alpha”. In the end, the trauma would restructure Tanner's memory to appropriate the results.

———

Nervously, Joel knocked on the door of his son’s apartment. Tanner had returned from the Man-Up Camp two days ago, but the program had advised not to visit clients for at least 48 hours to help solidify the marination process. Now, Joel stood before his decision, wracked with excitement and guilt. He had not agreed with all the program’s promises, including the conversion, but his desperation for a manly son sat stronger. Joel just hoped he had not gone too far.

“If it ain’t my old man!” A booming voice greeted from the entryway. For the first time ever, Joel had to look up to make eye contact with his son. “I was just about to leave for a game with the boys, wanna come?”

Joel took in his new son. Gone was the short flamboyant nerd; what now stood before him was the epitome of masculine identity. Tanner was tall, muscular, and hairy. Just by peering into the apartment, it was clear his priorities had shifted. While once impeccably decorated, Tanner’s home was now filled with cheap generic furniture, discarded takeout leftovers, and dirty clothes scattered across the floor.

After being blasted by the funk wave that emanated from his new son, Joel agreed to join him. In response through burps, Tanner spelt out a “G-R-E-A-T B-R-OURP!” right into his father’s face.

Over the rest of their time together, Joel simply sat on the sidelines studying this new man. He could not help but take in every inch of Tanner's physical and mental testosterone. The camo baseball hat, the scruffy beard, the lightly-dusted pecs, the massive dong swinging freely in the workout shorts, the giant shoes clomping around the court. His interactions too, chest-bumping his bros when he scored a point and blasting the losers with smelly butt bombs. Tanner had become a dumber, grosser, obnoxious, bigoted version of himself: Joel could not have been more proud of his success.

“Yo Pops!” Tanner shouted, adjusting himself freely. “You ever gonna join us or you just gonna fag out over there?”

Joel laughed. This new rowdier, cockier Tanner was gonna take some time to get used to. Perhaps Joel would just have to man-up himself.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf

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twilightkitkat · 1 month ago

Text

Revised fanfic inspired by this post about how our universe's X-men (assuming they were alive) would react to Logan returning from the dead.

---

The world at large moved on from The Wolverine's resurrection shockingly fast.

Of course, people were excited to see their childhood hero return, but with all that's happened in the past decade in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it's far from the craziest thing to happen. An entire half of the world's population disappeared and reappeared with the flick of a finger—one man coming back to life wasn't the biggest call for concern.

With his initial reemergence, people questioned whether or not he would rejoin his old teammates in the X-men. Now that they were back together, it was only natural for The Wolverine to take his rightful spot.

But, contrary to this speculation, he made no move to rejoin the X-men. In fact, he seemed to avoid contact with them at all. When it became clear that he wasn't returning to the hero scene or the spotlight any time soon, the media attention fizzled out.

Logan was grateful. The last thing he wanted was to constantly be hounded and compared to the hero he couldn't be in his universe. He'd finally come to terms with his past and was content to spend the rest of his life peacefully with Wade (well, as peaceful as it could be when you kill for income).

But while the media let it go, the X-men didn't.

They had been initially shocked and confused when they heard that Logan was back from the dead. They'd brush it off as a false rumor if not for the fact that were eerily realistic photos of him online. He looked so similar and yet so different from the Logan they knew. He was older and had wrinkles where he hadn't before, but he undoubtedly looked like their Logan.

But this opened up a whole new can of worms. Charles had searched using Cerebro and found he was gone for good, and everyone had already mourned him. Was someone impersonating him? Was there a villain? (If so, how dare they?)

The X-men were in a slightly manic state until Colossus returned and explained that this Wolverine was from another universe. The other X-men questioned how he knew, and he reluctantly revealed that Deadpool (the insane mercenary that Colossus was somehow friends with) had brought him to their timeline on a mission to save it from collapse.

...It was a lot to take in. But after getting over the shock of the impossibility, they were relieved. Lord knows it was difficult to manage all the kids and protect the mansion, it would be nice to have him back.

And so they waited for Logan to come to them. To return to the mansion. He had been part of the X-men in his own world from what Colossus had told them, and while he hadn't elaborated too deeply they'd surmised that they were no longer around. It was a perfect fit: the X-men who lost their Wolverine and the Wolverine who lost his X-men.

But he never did. At first, they chalk it up to him going on a solo trip. He liked to run off from time to time—to brave the wilderness or disappear on a personal unspecified mission. When asked, he'd said it helped clear his mind. It made sense. He never really stayed in one place for too long.

After all, it was his personality. He was a Lone Wolf. Logan was the type to get antsy if he felt like he was being tied down. He wasn't the type to like commitment and wanted to be free from the shackles of other people.

The X-men had accepted this as fact, never pushing further. Why would they? If Logan wanted to stay, he would. He was self-assured enough to realize he could come and go whenever he wanted. Nobody was stopping him. (Nobody was telling him that they wanted him there, anyway. No point.)

But then a month passed. And then two. And Logan didn't show any indication that he would be coming back. Or reaching out to them.

And even if he was the type to do his own thing, this was a little ridiculous. He'd just come back to life and didn't even bother showing up to let them know what he was doing?

This Logan couldn't be all that different from theirs if they'd had near-identical origins. Even if he kept up his guard and acted gruffly, he only really had them. They were like a family. They took him in and fed him and clothed him and he showed up to help when shit went sideways in return. A perfect, neat, package with a bow on top.

(Because that's what family is, isn't it? People who provide for your physical needs. People who protect you when you're on the battlefield. What else was there?)

The anticipation was killing them.

And so they staged a confrontation with Colossus one day. They interrogated him about Logan's whereabouts. Prodded him about his well-being and what he was doing. Why he wasn't reaching out and when they should expect him to come back.

His answer shocked them.

Apparently, Logan wasn't out on a mission at all. He wasn't just on a temporary retreat and planning to return.

Instead, he was staying with Deadpool at his apartment and just... living there. Living the same menial, day-to-day life as any other civilian (aside from the contract killing). Apparently, he didn't show any interest at all in returning to his old life or taking up the helm of an X-man again.

(It was hard wrap their heads around. When Jean asked what he spent his days doing, Colossus responded that Logan had gotten into cooking. That he was experimenting with different recipes to see which ones Wade liked and that recently, he'd been learning to make alfredo pasta from scratch.

...Logan? The same Logan whose only hobby was stealing Scott's motorcycle and pissing him off? Who spent his free time smoking and drinking when he wasn't fighting? That same Logan, learning to cook? Living a quiet, domestic life?

That couldn't be right.)

He wasn't even particularly busy, he just hadn't visited. When they inquired further, Colossus smiled slightly and said that he seemed happy there. Content. That Wade was good for Logan and Logan was good for him, too.

It was... nearly impossible to imagine. Logan—fierce, closed-off, restless—just staying in one place? Content to just live with someone, help with chores around the house, and accompany them on mercenary jobs.

Speaking of mercenary jobs, since when did Logan prefer teamwork? He always tried to turn joint missions into solo ones, and went out of his way to brush people off. And yet Colossus told them about how Logan always insisted on accompanying Wade like it was his duty, how their fighting styles were perfectly synchronized, and how he used their teamwork as an example to teach his trainees.

More than that—Logan, a mercenary? He'd rather pick up illegal work for some extra cash than return to being a hero? To being with them? Why did he decide to stay in a shitty one-bedroom apartment with a mercenary instead of returning to their mansion?

What even was his relationship with Wade? They'd only met him once, indirectly, when he came to the mansion to recover after he'd apparently tried to blow himself up. Even through the walls, it was hard to drown out his incessant chatter.

He was erratic and loud and annoying. He was the complete opposite of Logan, but in a completely different way than Scott was. And Logan hated Scott, who acted calm and collected where he was short-tempered and rowdy. They had an infamous rivalry because of the drastic differences in their personality.

So what about Deadpool, who never took anything seriously and was a pain in the ass, made Logan agree to be his roommate? Especially when he had other options. When Logan was notorious for hating people who were "annoying" and picking fights with those whose personalities fundamentally clashed with his.

They only discovered the answer to this question when Laura hosted her 19th birthday party at the X-mansion.

Laura was an interesting case. They'd taken her in after she'd sought refuge in their universe, but she was always reserved. She made friends among the other teenagers and kids at the X-mansion, but often avoided the older X-men.

They were curious about her, considering her connection to Logan, but didn't have an excuse to push further when her control over her mutation was sound. It was also difficult to get close to her when she seemed outright hostile to some of them, particularly Jean and Scott.

When Jean first introduced herself to Laura, Laura glared at her warily. And when Scott had offered a handshake, she'd eyed it suspiciously and turned away. (The apple didn't fall from the tree with this one. It brought up a wave of nostalgia for him.)

But despite this, she was still a part of X-mansion, and so they hosted a party just like they did for the other children. It was just standard practice.

Except for the fact that the Wolverine was coming.

When the X-men had asked who to expect for her party so that they could create a guest list, she'd mentioned offhandedly that both Logan and Wade were going to show up.

It caused them to do a double-take and ask her if she meant Logan as in Logan. She'd raised an eyebrow and asked, "Who else would it be?" as if it were natural that he'd be there.

(When she left, they'd cornered Colossus to bombard him with questions. Was Laura in touch with Logan this entire time, and they didn't know? How did she send him an invitation?

He merely responded that he knew she visited their apartment sometimes, but that it wasn't his business. He saw her every few weeks when Wade had his friends (or "found family" as he called it) over for dinner, but didn't pry further.)

The X-men were hurt. And confused. And angry.

Why was the first time they saw Logan at a birthday party for someone else? Were they not enough reason to visit? They'd taken him and showed him kindness in spite of his... difficult personality. Didn't he at least owe them that much?

He was acting like they were strangers.

They let their questions and emotions fester until the moment of truth finally arrived.

And Logan came, just like Laura said he would. But they barely recognized him, from how differently he looked.

There was something so fundamentally different about the way he held himself. His posture had changed, shoulders drooping instead of perpetually tensed.

He looked... relaxed, for the first time in as long as they could remember. He didn't look hostile or cagey. His expression was open and he stretched with the same lazy, self-satisfied demeanor of a cat.

He looked like a man content with life instead of the one they knew who ran away the first chance he got. He looked like a man who would settle down and start a family instead of the man who always had an itch under his skin to move and never stayed too long.

It was difficult to take their eyes off him. To look away from the glaringly obvious image of how he'd changed. He looked different than he did even in the pictures that had leaked when he'd first come to this world.

(Back then, he'd at least been recognizable. Had some semblance of the Logan they knew. Had the same eyes and clench in his jaw and furrow in his eyebrows.

But now he looked like a man reborn. Like he'd been given a second wind to life, a passion for something other than violence. Had he ever looked like this, back then?)

They wanted to approach him, but it was difficult when he stuck to Wade like glue. They were always touching, somehow. An arm around the shoulders, a hand placed firmly on Wade's waist, fingers intertwined, legs pressed together. Logan was touchy—affectionate, even—in a way he never was with them. (In a way they never thought was possible.)

The way he looked at Wade was like he hung the stars and the moon and the sky itself.

They tried to catch his eye from across the room, but he didn't pay attention. His eyes were firmly locked on Wade's face, a warmth there (a softness) that they'd never seen before. (Was their Logan capable of making such an expression?)

Wade gawked at the mansion and its decoration as he entered, holding Logan's hand. He darted around the party, flitting between Colossus and Negasonic, and Yukio. Then he moved to the buffet table, gleefully grabbing some of the food like a little kid.

And Logan stayed by his side the whole time, only watching him, murmuring something too quiet to decipher in his ear occasionally. Wade responded by jabbing him in the elbow while he tried (and failed) to suppress a cackle.

(And Logan let him. He didn't even retaliate aside from a grunt when Wade punched him in the arm, rolling his eyes and flicking his forehead in return but entirely content to let Wade at him.

The trust there was so obvious it was painful. The familiarity. The warmth. Was this what a family looked like?)

The first time Logan took his eyes off Wade was when Laura came up to greet them. His eyes softened as he looked at her, almost imperceptibly if not for the fact that in their memories, his eyes were always hard. Guarded.

(Jaded in the way that losing your memories and fleeing from a lab only to spend years facing discrimination and hate would do. Jaded in the same way as a dog who feared humans because it'd been hurt by them. Jaded in the same way as an animal who only knew pain and never had a safe place to return to.)

They could count on one hand the number of times they saw even a semblance of the fondness that expression held. And even then, Logan's occasional gruff kindness was reserved for Jean or Rogue.

They watched Laura hug him, grinning as she prattled on about what she'd been doing lately. Logan hugged her back, arms coming to wrap firmly around her. Easy affection. (Easy, but unprecedented.)

She pulled back and Wade hugged her too, spinning her around in the air as she laughed and hit him and asked him to put her down.

When Logan looked at them, the fondness was so obvious it was painful. They were used to seeing Logan show emotion—anger, sadness, fear, arousal. But never softness. (Especially not for a tumor-ridden mercenary and an experiment built off of his DNA.)

The party continues like that, with Logan leaning against Wade and basking in his presence. Hiding in his shadow when he's tired, pressing his forehead against Wade's shoulder.

Until they finally decide to approach them. Scott and Jean held hands as they approached him for the first time, tired of observing him all night. Storm followed closely behind. (Rogue watched from the sidelines, a quiet resignation in her eyes.)

"Logan, nice seeing you man. It's been a while," Scott smiled crookedly at him. He expected Logan to respond how he always did. To grin back, insult him, and start up their typical banter.

Like a well-oiled machine, they kept their rivalry going. Logan and Scott would act like they hated each other in public and fight like children over Jean until she inevitably chose Scott (and then it'd repeat). Sometimes, under the veil of the night, they'd become more. But that was rare, and Scott preferred the comfortable rhythm they normally kept to.

(It was easy. Predictable. Scott didn't have to give anything up for Logan. He could keep his image, keep his life, and still have Logan when he wanted. And then, when he was done, he could keep going as if it never happened. No strings attached.)

But Logan barely looked at him (and was that a look of caution in his eyes?) and nodded, then turned back to Wade as he talked about some kid's show and its "artistic ingenuity."

"Logan, that was a little rude, don't you think?" Jean lightly scolded him. "You got here over a month ago, and we haven't heard from you at all. The least you could do is let us know you're alive."

Scott tightened his arm around Jean. He knew what would come next. Even if Logan was ignoring him, he'd never miss out on a chance to flirt with his girlfriend and rub it in his face.

He knew Jean would always choose him, in the end, but it was annoying to see Logan hit on her. She'd entertain him enough to keep him interested, and occasionally the three would wind up in bed together in a moment of passion. But Jean was his, in the end.

(It was easy. To delegate Logan to the role of a quick fuck. To never really deign him with the courtesy of a lover but still get the benefits. Scott always felt a rush of power when Logan was beneath him. It was like winning a trophy against your rival. Like achieving a conquest—taming the untameable beast.)

Except, Logan didn't react. He just grunted in response. When his eyes met Jean's, they were completely devoid of any emotion. The fire that one burned in his eyes for her was reduced to nothing. Not even a spark or an ember was left. It was like felt nothing for her.

That couldn't be the case, could it? Logan wouldn't move on that quickly. Even if it had been years in his world, he'd always like Jean. He always had before. It was the status quo: Logan always yearned for Jean, who he couldn't have. Jean and Scott were in love, but they occasionally deigned Logan with enough breadcrumbs to keep him on their trail.

And yet Logan didn't even look at her. His eyes were solely on Wade. He didn't flirt with Jean or banter with Scott. It was as if he'd disengaged entirely.

It was only when Wade's eyes flicked toward them and he waved that Logan bothered to acknowledge their existence.

"Oh, hey! You guys are the real deal! The original X-men! The ones that took the 2000s by storm and made Marvel a shit ton of money," Wade grinned at them as he spoke, and the craters on his face stretched and twisted. Jean averted her eyes.

Logan snorted. "Did you not expect to see the X-men in the X-mansion, bub?" It was the first time he verbally acknowledged their existence, but it didn't feel that way. He spoke like they weren't there right in front of him. Like he was only entertaining Wade's train of thought, nothing more or less.

"Considering the budget on my previous movies? Fuck no. It was too expensive to even have a good cameo, let alone actually have them on screen for more than a minute to have a conversation."

Jean and Scott shared bewildered glances. They both wondered what the hell he was talking about. They'd heard rumors of Deadpool being... odd, to put it lightly, but they didn't expect him to act this way in their mansion. He spoke like he was making an inside joke nobody here was privy to, almost as if he was making a reference for an invisible audience. He sounded insane (and definitely not somebody that Logan would willingly live with).

But Logan laughed, genuinely, and it was like the world stopped spinning for a moment. He smiled and his eyes wrinkled, forming crescents.

"No wonder you got a shitty budget. You can barely keep it together as is, let alone in a mansion with children. I doubt you'd fit in with a bunch of kids at a boarding school," he snickered at Wade, but it was light-hearted. It reminded the pair of how he used to act around Scott, before everything.

"My movies are rated R for everyone! And besides, we're not even in the MCU right now. In fanfiction, anything goes. I can talk to the X-men as I damn well please."

Scott coughed awkwardly into his hand.

"Oh, sorry, got a little caught up there. You know how it is. You must be Jean and Scott, nice to meet you," Wade stuck out his hand. Jean hesitated for a moment, suspiciously eyeing the scarred flesh, then reluctantly shook it.

"Deadpool," Scott greeted. His voice was a carefully crafted mask of cool indifference.

Jean smiled tightly. "We've heard a lot about you." It was true. In their search for information about Logan, they found out that he and Logan were partners of some sort. Anyone who had an encounter with The Wolverine naturally also encountered Deadpool. They always did jobs together, and there seemed to be a common understanding among the underground that they were a package deal. It was jarring to hear, to say the least.

"Good things, I'm sure. Who could ever have a complaint about me?" Wade cut into a piece of cake with his shitty plastic fork and took a bite, chewing obnoxiously.

"Johnny Storm would be one," Logan replied.

"You never let go of shit, do you? For the last fucking time, I only told the truth. It isn't my fault he decided to go and shit-talk Cassandra the Almighty. As a concerned citizen, I had an obligation to report treason to the authorities."

"And here I thought you weren't Truthful Timmy, the Blowjob Queen of Saskatoon." Logan leveled Wade with an unimpressed stare, which soon devolved into low laughter as Wade cursed him out.

Jean and Scott stared stiffly at the scene. It was uncomfortable to watch. It felt like someone took Logan, their Logan, and distorted him into a barely recognizable reflection of himself. Their Logan was an asshole with his sense of humor, too. He made sarcastic quips and dark jokes without batting an eye. But he never acted so light around them. He never laughed so freely, like it was as easy as breathing. When he did chuckle, it was low and restrained. Not the uncontrolled, wild, and genuine laughter he had around Wade.

But Jean wouldn't let herself get distracted. Even if Logan was different, he was still like their Logan. He still had a spot reserved for him on the team.

"Logan, can I talk to you for a second?" Jean interrupted. When he made no move to leave, she added, "Alone, please."

Logan's posture shifted, almost imperceptibly. His eyes hardened again, and his mouth pressed into a line. He straightened his spine and leveled her with a steady, calculating look. It was the first time he had really looked at her all night, and yet it made her skin crawl. It was like he was sizing her up, as if she were an enemy or unwanted annoyance.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Anything you need to say to me, you can say with Wade here."

"C'mon man, don't be like that," Scott tried to diffuse the tension, sensing something amiss. "We just want to catch up. Jean worried about you, you know."

It was at that moment Storm arrived. She'd been lurking on the sidelines, waiting for her chance to interject. "Logan, Scott's right. Jean's been worried about you. We all have. It wasn't the same without you here."

Logan's hands slipped into his pockets, but nobody missed the way they clenched into fists. His shoulders rose tensely, and his expression turned guarded. The soft look in his eyes faded into one of wariness.

"Woah woah woah, what is this, middle school? Don't schools teach you all about boundaries these days? Peer pressure isn't cool, say no to drugs," Wade interjected. His smile looked forced, pulled too tightly around the edges. His eyes flitted to Logan, who looked at him with an exhausted type of gratitude.

Jean sighed, centering herself. She needed to stay calm if she wanted to reach out to him. Getting worked up wouldn't help anything. "That's okay, we'll just talk to you here."

Scott scoffed next to her. "What, afraid to speak to us in private?"

Logan stared at him blankly. "No, I just don't want to." He didn't rise to the challenge for once. He looked the bait dead in the eyes and walked past it.

Scott inhaled sharply next to her. Logan never turned down a chance to fight. He'd grin at him, canines showing, and charge in. He got a feral thrill from fighting, from blowing off steam.

He'd told Scott that once, when they were alone together. It was after a sparring session, and they were both sweaty and exhausted, collapsed next to each other. Logan had grinned at him, sweat dripping down his forehead, and told him that fighting was the only time he allowed himself to just let go. His eyes were shining and his hair was damp and his tank top was soaked in his own sweat. He was rugged and handsome and disheveled. Scott had pinned him down and taken him right there.

(In the aftermath, Scott had hurridly zipped up his pants and adjusted his clothing. When he looked halfway presentable, he went to leave. Logan had grabbed onto the leg of his pant, still heaving for air.

"Can't stay for long?" he'd hoarsely asked. His eyes were burning, bright, passionate. His tongue darted out to lick his lips self-consciously. His voice was laced with an undercurrent of urgency. Of desperation. Of hope.

"No, I just don't want to.")

"Logan..." Jean trailed off, unsure of how to start. "I just wanted to ask you how you were doing." An olive branch.

"Fine." His voice was clipped and blunt. No room for argument or extrapolation. He snapped the branch in half.

"Alright, what the hell is your problem?" Storm asked. "We haven't heard from you since you fucking resurrected and now you're acting like a moody teenager when we ask how you're doing?"

"Hey, don't talk to him like that," Wade snapped. It was like a switch had flipped. He went from cheerful and obnoxious to serious the second they insulted Logan.

"No, he needs to fucking hear it. He can brood another time. Logan, we're your friends. You can't just walk away and ignore us anytime you want." Storm crossed her arms, glaring at him like she would a particularly unruly child.

Wade began, "You—"

"Since when were we friends?"

"...What?" Storm looked at Logan incredulously, like she couldn't believe what she just heard. "What did you say?"

"I said, since when were we friends?" His voice was harsher this time, enunciating each word as if it would help them understand.

"Logan, you can't seriously think that, right?" Jean looked at him, concerned.

"So what if I do?"

"Logan," Scott spoke firmly, deciding to rejoin the conversation. "Just because you're upset doesn't mean you can say that. You just hurt Jean's feelings."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, well I'm so sorry Jean's feelings are hurt. What a travesty."

"Alright Logan, what the fuck?" Storm interrupted. "We come here to find out how you've been and all you do is treat us with hostility. All you're going to do is create tension in the mansion for no reason."

"What the hell does the mansion have to do with me?" He glowered at her.

"What do you mean what does it have to do with you? When you come back acting pissy, all of the children will be affected too. They might be used to you and Scott fighting, but you can't pick a fight with everyone here." She glared back.

"...What do you mean, 'come back?'" He spoke to her like she was a child, unable to comprehend a basic lesson. Like she was stupid for even insinuating he'd return.

"When you return to the mansion, she means," Jean added.

Wade raised his nonexistent eyebrows. "Since when was Logan coming back to the mansion? Is Marvel doing a family reunion arc? Although that'd definitely make some money off of nostalgia, it kinda goes against the whole theme of that Logan is different from the old one. Gotta keep them separate to pay homage to his legacy and all that shit."

"What he means is that I never said I was coming back, and in case you need it spelled out for you, I don't plan to." Logan slung an arm around Wade's shoulders and squeezed him protectively.

"...What?" Scott murmured, staring at Logan blankly.

"Logan, you don't really mean that," Jean stated calmly, as if she were placating a wild animal.

"Yes I fucking do," he retorted.

"After all we've done for you, you're going to turn your back on us like this? We took you in and treated you like you were one of us and now you're just going to abandon us because you want to take the easy way out?" Storm pointed a finger at him accusingly.

Logan looked irritated now. He was flexing his knuckles, as if he were prepared to unsheathe his claws at any moment. His eyebrows were furrowed and a deep frown was etched onto his face.

"You don't get to fucking say that," he growled.

"What?"

"You don't get to fucking say that. To talk as if I'm the crazy one for wanting to leave."

"Yeah, well maybe if—"

"No. You don't get to talk. You've had your turn. You all always had your turn first." He glared sweepingly at all of them, teeth grinding together. "Firstly, I don't owe you shit. I'm not even the Logan you took in to begin with."

"But—"

"Secondly, stop fucking talking to me like I'm a toddler. I know what I want, and it isn't to go back to the X-mansion. If I'm so free to come and go as I please, then let me go. Forever."

"Logan—"

"Thirdly, stop acting all high and mighty. Yeah, you fed and clothed me, like any reasonable refuge shelter would. Big fucking deal. I already paid off that debt when I saved this place from getting destroyed countless times."

"You—"

"And finally, stop. Just stop. I just—look. I'm done. I'm done. Nothing you say will change that. So just give up and stop wasting both of our time."

Silence fell across the X-men in front of him. They stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.

Finally, someone broke the silence. "...But Logan, you love me," Jean murmured.

"I did, once. And look where that got me." He glared at her, now, for the first time. It made her distinctly uncomfortable. It made her want to hide.

"Logan, you couldn't possibly mean that," Scott tried to reach him.

Logan's razor-sharp glare turned to him instead. "You were just as bad. You two loved stringing me on. Giving me just enough hope to stay interested. So I'd keep being your little fucktoy. I'm done."

Storm's eyes widened. "Logan, what do you mean by that?"

"Like you all didn't know. Everyone fucking knew that I was passed around like a blunt, it just didn't bother you all. Because it's fine if it's me. 'If Logan suffers, the rest of us can have it a little easier. He can take it, can't he?'" Logan's voice turned shrill and mocking.

"Logan, you know that's not what we—"

"Yes, it was. You meant it. Because if you actually saw me as family, you'd treat me like one. But you had years to and you never did. So don't start now. Not with a replacement Logan that isn't even your own." His eyes hardened, chest heaving. And yet, underneath the tenseness, there was relief. His emotions had been pent up for so long that it felt cathartic to finally release them all in one glorious shitshow of a conversation.

"I won't interfere with your lives, so stop interfering with mine." And then he spun around on his heel and walked away. He left them behind.

They stood there, frozen. They were so shell-shocked that they forgot to breathe, to move, to speak. Until Jean snapped out of it and made an aborted attempt to shout after him, "Logan—"

A hand clamped over her mouth. "Woah there buster, slow your roll." Wade stared at her like she was insignificant. A nuisance. It was almost poetic—the irony of being looked down upon by someone she looked down on herself—if it wasn't so sad.

"Get your hands off her," Scott snarled, yanking her back. She fell against his chest and grabbed his hand for support.

"My bad. I'll keep my paws off your girl if you keep yours off mine," Wade raised his hands in the air nonchalantly.

"...What do you mean, 'your girl?'" Storm warily asked.

"Wolvie, of course. Well, technically a guy, but you get the gist. Besides, he practically fits the vibes with the kitty cat ears."

"...Logan?" Scott questioned.

"Yeah, he's mine. Official title and all. I know you guys had a fling back in the day, but I'm the real deal. I'm the one who wifed him up. So I'd appreciate it if you left him alone so we can keep living out our days in ooey gooey domestic bliss," Wade sighed dreamily at the last part.

"...What?" Jean murmured. She knew Logan sometimes slept around, but with Wade of all people? It would explain why Logan was staying at his apartment, but it still left so many questions unanswered.

(Why wasn't Logan looking at her? Or hell, even Scott? Any of them? Why had his eyes been transfixed to Wade like he was the only person in the world worth watching? If they were dating, then that explains the clingy behavior to some extent, but... was Logan really capable of that? She could remember Logan being aroused, flirty, romantic, even—but never soft. Not like how he looked at Wade.)

"You heard it," he whistled. Like it was just a game to him. (Maybe it was.)

"There's no way Logan would—"

"—Wade!" Logan called. "C'mon, bub, they're going to start opening presents soon. Ours is the first in line!"

"Coming, babygirl!" Wade shouted back. "Well, duty calls," he blew them an exaggerated kiss before skipping off like a schoolgirl.

Wade sidled up to Logan when he got close, hooking arms with him and leaning his head on his shoulder. He batted his eyes at him and Logan reached out to stroke his cheek so tenderly that Jean didn't think they could be anything but lovers.

Her Logan was never like that. Never open, never soft. He cared, in a distant way, but he never stayed. (Was it really that? Was it that he never tried to stay, or that they never gave him reason to? That they never gave him the chance to come inside before shutting the door in his face.)

But here it was. Physical proof that he was capable of looking at someone so softly. Of melting his hard exterior and becoming something more. Someone capable of cherishing the person they loved, of being domesticated.

Because there was really no other way than "domesticated" to describe him. He used to be like a wild animal—all sharp edges, jagged teeth, and razor-sharp claws. He snarled and growled at anyone who got too close and cornered him. He'd drop by for food, but snatch it and run off.

(But that's the thing about wild animals, isn't it? To get them to calm down, to stop seeing you as a threat, you need to be patient. To reach out. To prove you're safe. Did they ever really try?)

And now he even looked different. His hard muscles had filled out with a layer of fat. He looked healthy, like he wasn't just a tool built to fight and gnaw on the scraps he was given. He looked like a person who came back from work and ate a warm, balanced dinner at night. Who got adequate sleep had all of his needs taken care of. Who had a home.

Jean thought that Logan's personality was rough, sharp, and jagged. That he was just Like That and it was useless to try to change it. It was written into his character—Jean was the good girl and Scott was the good guy and Logan was always cast as the bad boy. Like a set of actors forced to play the same roles each time.

(After all, the bad boy is just someone you flirt with. Not someone you take home. Jean had said that, hadn't she?

And Logan had told her he could be the "good guy." Tried to show that he was capable of being more than just how he acted when he was hurt and alone. But she brushed it off. They all did.

And yet here Logan was. Soft and entranced by Wade in a way he never had been, even with her. Looking at him with something so much deeper than lust or attraction or infatuation. Looking at him with devotion. Reverence. Complete and utter love.)

But Logan wasn't Like That. He had always wanted to be soft. To be able to curl up next to somebody and trace the curve of their spine with his fingertips. He'd always yearned for a home he could feel genuinely warm in, where he'd be accepted and allowed to be vulnerable. Where he could laugh and cry and express emotions even if they weren't pretty. Even if they contradicted his "image."

He'd only been hard because he had to. Because if he wasn't, the biting words and indifference of everyone around him would cut so deep he'd never recover. Because if he let himself love and be vulnerable with the X-men and they still viewed him as a passerby, as a tool, as an outsider, as just someone to sleep with—he'd break.

But Wade gave him a home. Gave him the chance to finally love and be loved and not feel afraid. To open up. To show his emotions without fear of being scorned. To know he'd always be taken seriously. To not just be seen as the bad boy, but as a broken man desperate for anyone to show him even a crumb of affection. A reason to stay.

He was finally seen as more than just a stereotype. He was allowed to just be Logan. Gruff, angry, and animalistic. Soft, kind, and emotional. He was allowed to be both.

(Everyone always made him choose. Kind or gruff. Good or bad. Animal or human. Logan had to fit what they were looking for, hiding away the unwanted parts of him. He was either a ruthless tool or the perfect man. He could never just be himself. Not if he wanted people to stick around.)

Logan was used to being hidden. He was always the shameful secret. Jean was embarrassed to like him. Scott hid him away during the night and fought him during the day. He was a temptation, but that was it. They'd always choose each other first. Every member of the X-men had their person, but he was nobody's.

But with Wade, for the first time in his life, he was the first choice. He was the priority. He got to eat at the table instead of being fed scraps thrown onto the floor.

Logan thought it was natural to be treated as lesser. To be an afterthought. But when Wade cradled his face like he was something precious and was willing to die for him, he realized that he could be loved just as fiercely as he loved Wade. As an equal. As partners.

And so when he saw the X-men, he reacted the same way they had all those years ago: with indifference. With the same detached care he'd grown so used to. He spared them the effort of a few words, of reluctant acknowledgment, but that was it. If they never wanted to look closer at him or care about his needs, it was fine. But he'd do the same.

"Do you think Laura will like the gift we chose?" Wade hummed.

"I'm sure she'll love it," Logan murmured in response, leaning in closer to kiss his forehead.

After all, there was no need to scramble to collect crumbs when he was well-fed. There was no need to look for a shitty room in an empty-feeling mansion when he already had a home.

#poolverine #deadclaws #kitkat #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool movie #wade x logan #wade/logan #poolverine angst #x men #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #mcu #jean grey #scott summers #scogan

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cirqosmos · 4 months ago

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yandere simulator; xo (only if you say yes). yjw

interactive roleplaying game: where instead of a yandere winning over your heart, you win theirs. by getting them to say 'yes', only then you will unlock the key to their heart where psychotic love resides.

currently playing. . . xo (only if you say yes)

warning: yandere, slight profanity, some grammar errors (i'm doing my best to study it >_<)

runtime: 3k.

director's cut, — jungwon boo u never fail to prove me that you're legit my muse in writing </3 this is just a fun fun interactive yandere game i randomly thought of, whatever you choose (majority of the votes) decides what happens to you with yandere jungwon :3

character visual: jw

"i'm sorry, but no. you're just not my type—"

you slammed yourself your face on your pillow, burying it so tight it sent you to heaven itself. however you'd rather die this way than pressing the 'continue' button to read the yandere's next words for his darling—which is you.

but you're not even his darling yet, much less being his close friend. maybe just a friend from school?

yeah, definitely.

well, as a twenty-nine years old office lady with her average monotonous schedule with the same routine over and over again for the past eight years, nearing her thirties yet never being able to find a qualified partner that fits her overly high standards—you're left with a game titled 'xo (only if you say yes) you've found somehow on the devil's hours; a game that was immensely difficult to pass, where you would do your best to win over a yandere's heart.

the game's description was too daring, almost too challenging, you are afraid to admit.

"wanna have your sweet affectionate yandere fawning all over you? no worries! however, as the old sayings goes; without efforts, you may never achieve anything—nothing is free in this world. therefore, why don't you sweat a little, get upset a little, cry a little, break a little—like your beloved yandere would once they fall for you? do your very best to get them to say yes to your love confession just once, and all of them—they will give to you.

blood, sweat, and tears; all of them shall be yours as long as you can make them say yes."

and now you found yourself on the final level spending atleast, or disappointingly a huge sum of bucks on the game with currency of gems just to speed up the process, with your eyes bearing a newfound dark eyebags as an extra package of consequences.

you swore by your life and on god himself that you're only playing this for fun out of pure boredom and insomnia, however as you thumb through the game's introduction of yandere as it's dominant themes paired with a comprehensive summary of them; you questioned yourself with sheer shock as to why you've never find an ounce of existence about yanderes for the past eighteen years of your life despite being chronically online.

since yanderes are the exact definition of your overly high standards for men, ever since. no wonder you've never found a men like this before, turns out they only exists in fiction—you scoffed at yourself, filled with disbelief as you roll your eyes.

but! who cares if they don't exist in real life? they're now on the tips of your finger, waiting earnestly and eagerly for your love. a giggle so obnoxious escapes your lips, you feel like you are once a schoolgirl again, but without the experiences of one, actually.

but again who cares!

the game flashes a new pop-up, telling you the next step—choose your yandere character to play with. it shows you a list of seven yanderes illustrated on their respective cards, clad in coquettish-sort-of highschool uniforms; pink ties, beige vest over a dark blue shirt and pants paired with their set of flirty gestures as your thumb glided through each character—reading their descriptions; interests & dislikes, hobbies & talents, a little trivia about them, and of course—their strengths and weaknesses.

surprisingly, they had a range of informations so complete it felt like they were real humans. the developers did quite a spectacular job on it, don't they? and even the fact of how their weaknesses remains the same although with differences in how they would act on it or how far they would go; obsession, possession, and damn psychotic—willing to kill for you.

how romantic. . . in a psychotic way, of course. you hummed unconsciously, letting out a sigh after at the disappointing fact of how you still find it strangely attractive in your late twenties.

are you really that of a single pringle? pfft!

as you giddily spend your time trying to choose one of all characters. they're just all too good, looking too good for your heart to take. but one particular character catches your eye, intrigues you even with those pair of eyes—goosebumps ran down your spine as you could feel him gazing back at you.

like at you, literally.

or was it just the game's tactic to make the players like you fall deeper? hm, probably! it definitely was, unless a random ghost must've possessed your phone but that can't be right?

right?! you yelled the same word out loud, snapping your head around your room—looking for any potential jumpscares, but to your relief—thank god. now you can play your little new obsession in peace!

snapping your head back at your phone, eyes lit up in immense stars as you've made up your mind, heart thumping loudly as you scanned his unique features—tapping the "play with me?" soft pink button below the name 'yang jungwon' aka the mischievous leader kitty of the group.

in yandere academy, this group is called enhypen—and they have a bunch of fangirls, and it's not even a 'bunch', the size of their fandom is almost half of the female population in the academy and even outside of its territories—there is this ridiculously long line of female students from other academies. a feat that cannot be totally underestimated, and it's not even surprising as they are packed with dazzling visuals, and a set of numerous talents of their own.

they catch hearts everywhere, left and right, back and forth with their grand entrance to the school. each of them has their own separate fandoms too, and yang jungwon's taekwondo club practices are always filled with hearty eyes paired nerve-wracking screams that his coach spends half an hour yeeting them out.

"huh?" you let that out a tad bit too loud, almost exaggerated even. the game surely didn't turn out the way you thought, as you had the initial assumption that the yandere you chose already fell for you, and that you just had to spend those lovey-dovey levels roleplaying with them with a one or a few more predetermined routes to choose from.

the rules was pretty simple; try to get his heart—make him fall for you in the set duration of thirty days. in other words, there are ninety-nine percent possibility that he might reject your confession out of pure lack of interest. get that three row of bars; friendship, love, and yandereness as high as you can because if you were unable to do so then there will be no second chances of playing the yandere of your choice without paying an excessive sum of bucks, so you just had to do it once and make sure to do it right.

quite a challenging mission, huh? no it really is challenging but you were determined as your nostrils flared out a puff of air, straightening your posture as

the adorable motion logo of the game plays out, loading in a bunch of texts meant to help you along the way;

'yandere has each of their own unique love languages, pay attention!'

'little misfortunes are often a blessing in disguise, sometimes redirecting you away from what we call a 'disaster.'

'completing side tasks will increase your yandere's love bar by two percent!'

it soon pops up a bunch of pinky hearts and sparkling stars after all those introductions and guides before switching to a scene of him, jungwon—standing before you, and as expected, you were instructed to approach him.

the location in his taekwondo club, all while sandwiched in between his die-hard fangirls with those screams that you had to turn down your volume to zero. talk about in starting a cool first impression—well never mind, two choices popped up on your screen.

choice one: wait for him after his taekwondo practices (20% of working out)

choice two: act like a damsel in distress (5% of working out)

"uh," your thumb hovered over the two choices, is this a trap? act like a damsel in distress—what in the actual fuck? who would even do that in 2024?! you begrudgingly tapped on the first choice, and the scene switches to a pop up message:

try again, jungwon left a couple minutes earlier for a dinner with jay!

[ retry? ] [ exit? ]

your eyebrow twitches, what the fuck? just like that . . .? there's even barely a progress and you just have to fucking retry?

and jokes on you as your jaw dropped on the floor with the new set of choices presented before you, four choices—actually.

"what is this?!" you yelled so loud you immediately covered your mouth, peeking outside the window.

day three.

the love bar ain't going the fuck up, it's still there glaring at your face with it's zero percent. well that's fine, atleast the friendship bar goes up a tad bit—by five percent. a progress is still a progress!

but the game is just so greedy! you can't skip a day? sure then! but you only had three gems a day, one is to play the major mission, second to power up your aesthetics, skills, and status. third, to complete your side tasks such as running errands for your home or completing school assignments!

that even takes a whole day to refill back up, and it's not even enough with these thirty days you got and with this slow ass rate of getting jungwon to fall for you! you threw your phone on the bed, huffing like a madman—contemplating whether to spend a few bucks on it or just drop the game altogether. surely, you can't be that too attached with a yandere character, right?

right?!

jokes on you, your fingers find itself on the payment method against your will. ultimately cashing out a few bucks from your bank account with a single tear trailing down from your eye, all of this would be complete waste of money and effort if you fail to reign over his heart.

you let out an almost animalistic growl—filled with downright spite, actually. is this game even for real?! the choices they gave you are almost like deliberately setting you up for failure, definitely is! you were almost sure that is—to the point of contacting the developers themselves but you held yourself in sheer strength of self-control at last-minute, at the last digit of contacting them.

"it's okay, pampering myself isn't a sin." you pat yourself on the back, comforting yourself with a huge pout reaching the floor. it's okay! with a newfound determination, you're sure you'll make it!

day ten.

hopeless! utterly hopeless even the god of romance and cupid's themselves would laugh at you. you would, too. due to the fact that you went as far as googling on how to 'win over a man's heart" or "list of dialogues and actions that makes a man gain interest in you".

one of them even says food, that it is the way to a man's heart. but how the heck are you even going to feed a fictional game character? it would be easier if there was a food dialogue!

right, when is your character—or the game itself deciding to send a heart shaped box of chocolates? that would atleast give you a few percent to his love bar!

throwing yourself at your bed like a ragdoll, groaning and kicking your feet in the air. why do you even bother? for what? your search history is so hopelessly embarrassing, and even more embarrassing was when your co-worker had their eyes ogling at it. your mistake for letting your phone screen lit up for everyone to see, thank god she was the only one. patting you on the back that it was okay, and that she too had her fair share of struggles on fictional men.

truly a fellow comrade, you almost shed a tear.

day seventeen.

is this damn game trying to get on your nerves?

deciding to show a new bunch of rules that they didn't bother to show at the first day—set of rules you mustn't do while proceeding with the act of winning a yandere's heart, that is—you were not to skip a single day of playing—in other words, not spending a time with your yandere as in the game's words itself; they will be lonely and might end up throwing tantrums—loathing you for doing so, ignoring you for a short period or even longer depending on how long you were gone, thus risking the amount of effort you've spent so far down the drain.

and you actually skipped not one but two days because of your hectic work piling up after a fellow coworker's taking a sick leave for a week. . . and that was also after finally getting his love bar up to two percent and friendship bar reaching whopping sixteen percent.

yeah, it's sadly a 'whopping' one for you.

and now it's back at zero, with his friendship bar down to crashing down to nine digit and just as exactly the rules stated; every choice, dialogues, and routes you picked ended up him ignoring you with that furrowed eyebrows and slight pout on his lips, or responding to you in a flat out cold tone.

he's not even in love with you, so what are you even throwing a tantrum for?! you screamed that question at the animated game character on your phone's screen.

day twenty-four.

nah, this won't do. it definitely won't so why are you still trying? you bit your lower lip as you look for cheats, hacks, and tutorials online, praying to atleast find some miracle that could miraculously rocket you to ninety percent of love bar atleast!

since all you have left is six days.

you've spent an embarrassing amount of hours and days on this shit, even more dedicated and focused than you do back in your days as a student. you were so sure by this point that you could actually become a relationship therapist with all these accumulated knowledge!

day thirty.

eyebrows and lips twitching, it is.

level thirty, it is—ending on quite a horrible note, or actually, a total doomsday glaring back at you with all your nonexistent experience combined into a recipe with the title "never been in a relationship before".

a helpless laughter escapes your throat, of course—how can you catch a yandere's heart? much less make him your lover? you've never even caught a human's interest over the past twenty years of your life!

how cruel, how utterly cruel! god truly has it's ways of playing jokes. tears, laughter, giggles, sweat, money and effort—all gone down the drain.

all because of that one sentence ending it all, each word literally jumping out from his animated lips in a bold ass pink letters,

"i'm sorry but i can't accept it. i only see you as a friend, (name). i hope you could understand. . i'm sorry, but no—you're just not my type."

huh?! seriously?! a compelling urge, or a really tremendous one so colossal you can break your table into two parts—all that set of routes you've chosen so far with a careful decision and thoughts just for him to say this? just for the love bar to be at total ten percent?

jungwon, how could you? only ten percent? there's no hint of romantic affections found in his eyes or gestures, his friendship bar only by forty percent (a low score of only being his 'school' friend), heck you didn't even trigger his yandereness. like look at him! his yandere bar is at zero looming percent!

a trace of the pink love bar and red yandere bar nowhere to be seen, this is a pure scam! a love scam in the form of a game! meant to target single old ladies like you, fucking hell!

out of pure rage and disappointment, you slammed your phone on the bed—burying your face on your pillows as you let out a long drawn out, muffled scream. downright mad at yourself for even being so triggered by this whole shit, and at the fact of you acting like teenage girl imbued with hormonal changes,

"can't even get a fictional men to fall for me, i'm totally screwed for life!—"

you're so going to uninstall that shitty game, there's no point in playing anyways when you can't have the same character of your choice.

a notification 'tings' up, interrupting your bursts of tantrums—you look over at your phone with the game still up, a big pink heart-shaped bubble pops up on the screen—slowly draining into a pathetic colour of white, ultimately shredding it apart into a broken heart, mocking at your misery.

however the next message pulls outs a gasp from your throat, appearing in its usual glossy pink heart but a little redder at the bottom.

💌 2:09AM

hey there, our precious darling!

we totally get how you feel, there's no need to fret anymore! here we present to you an exclusive package where you will be given a final chance to retry for jungwon! this is a one in a lifetime chance for you—our dear player!

tempting almost, yet you're definitely not falling for that anymore.

and it's all free, let yourself fall deeper and deeper into this world of obsession. you can't really give up that quickly, right?

yanderes never knows when to give up, anyways ♡

free? there's nothing free in this world, even the game itself stated the same words. you've wasted your time, money, and effort on this dumb game and now it's giving a package that is exclusive only for you?

what dirty trick is this game trying to pull off once again?

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #jungwon x reader #yandere enhypen #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #enhypen jungwon #jungwon

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