#we smile through the pain I guess

[catastrxblues]

great i think i’ve finally caught a hint of a cold. my question is, where the fuck were you a month ago, when i could actually afford to take a day off?????

[domjaehyun]

under the influence (l.dh)

PAIRING ▸ stoner!haechan x fem!reader WORD COUNT ▸ 11.6k WARNINGS ▸ a hint of dubcon (she’s timid but very much likes the attention), pervy!dom!haechan, shy!sub!reader, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, finger sucking, oral (giving & receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play (receiving), marking, some cum eating, spit play, groping in public, panty stealing & sniffing PLAYLIST ▸ FYS - john concepcion, sweet release - kevin ross NOTES ▸ hii i hope you enjoy! any and all positive feedback is greatly appreciated, so send me an ask if you liked it or let me know in the tags pretty please :) 

As you press the button to call the elevator, you start to get the jitters. They start in your fingertips and travel up your arms to the back of your neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end, and you shudder slightly, shaking your head in an attempt to do away with the sensation.

The doors open with a ding, and you jump at the sound, making Yeri look over at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worries, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly and vigorously to be convincing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a frown, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Nothing!” you insist.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Karina reminds you, and your frown deepens. “But if you say so, I guess.” 

Relieved, you follow Yeri and Karina into the elevator and lean into the back corner of the shaft, resting your back against where the two walls meet. 

“We should watch a movie today,” Karina suggests excitedly, and she and Yeri fall into a discussion that you would join if you weren’t busy thinking about Haechan and whatever stunts he’s going to pull today. 

It takes three calls of your name from Karina and a vigorous shake from Yeri to snap you out of it, and you look at them sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Girl, where do you keep going? Every time I look over at you, you’re in la-la land.” Yeri asks, concerned and amused.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking.” you mumble.

“We know that,” Yeri says with a chuckle and roll of her eyes. “Thinking about what, hm?” she presses, and you balk.

“She’s probably thinking about Haechan and what stunts he’s gonna pull today.” Karina supposes, and you frown, upset you’ve been caught.

In your defense, Haechan is always up to shenanigans when you’re around; he pulls at your skirt to fluster you, plays with your hair to get your attention, strokes under your chin just to watch your eyes glaze over—you name it, he’s either done it or is probably thinking about it.

You can’t honestly say his advances are unwelcome because, well, you’ve had a crush on him for the past six months. But something about him is so intense, so jarringly locked in, that it makes you hesitate, and being the object of his full and undivided attention never fails to make you the shyest version of yourself, and you manage to make a fool of yourself almost every single time you get around him, and you have no idea how you’re going to deal with his antics today. 

“Girl.” Karina’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain and you blink hard, focusing on your friend’s concerned expression. “You’re doing it again.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I’m here, for real.”

As the bell dings and the doors open, the three of you file out of the elevator, walking towards the end of the hall to your destination.

“If you need help with him, let us know. We can make up a code word!” Karina suggests helpfully, and you smile, endeared by your friend’s attempt to calm your nerves.

“What should it be?” you wonder, and she screws her face up thoughtfully.

“Blinker.” Yeri answers, and you both turn to look at her. “It should be blinker. Like, if he’s getting too close and you can’t handle it, you can just say you kinda wanna try hitting a blinker or something like that.”

“The last time I hit a blinker, I coughed for ten minutes straight and it was the most painful experience of my life.” Karina recalls, grimacing at the memory. “It’s perfect.”

“Great.” Yeri says, smiling reassuringly at you before the three of you stop in front of the apartment door. Without a second thought, Yeri knocks three times on the door, stepping back to where you two are standing and waits with you for someone to open the door.

It opens a moment later to reveal Haechan standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding the door, and you wonder how such a simple stance has you short of breath.

He looks at Karina and Yeri, smiling pleasantly, before he locks eyes with you. Slowly wetting his lips, his eyes slowly drag up and down your frame, taking in your outfit and appearance before he meets your gaze once more and drops one eyelid into a flirtatious wink.

“Come on in,” he invites, stepping back to let Karina and Yeri in. When it’s your turn to pass, he moves closer, deliberately blocking part of your way so you have to brush by him to enter, and you’re sure it’s also no coincidence that he’s positioned himself so your chest has to brush against his. You swallow your nerves and continue walking past him, not daring to look back in case he’s looking at you; which, if today is anything like every other day you all hang out, he most certainly is. 

Shutting the door behind you, Haechan follows after the three of you into the living room, but waits, standing, by the chair where Mark sits—for what, you don’t know. You wave hello to Mark in his favorite armchair and Jeno on one end of the couch, who greet you pleasantly and resume their tasks of packing the bong and rolling a joint, respectively. Mildly confused but saying nothing at Haechan’s behavior, you take a seat at the other end of the couch, only for Haechan to move at last, crossing the living room to sit directly next to you.

Your throat dries up at the prospect of being so close to him, and you inhale shakily, wanting desperately to roll your eyes back in your head when you catch a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rests one elbow on his knee and observes you with his cheek in his palm. His expression is nothing short of desiring as he takes in your appearance, your burgundy pleated skirt and short-sleeved cream blouse apparently quite the fascinating little number to him, causing you to shift awkwardly in your seat and self-consciously tug your skirt down a bit.

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’m staring at you because you look good,” Haechan compliments, eyeing you appreciatively. “You always look good, though, but today… damn.”

You blink at him, stunned by the flirtatious lilt to his voice, and mumble, “Oh.”

“Oh?” he mimics you, chuckling, and you furrow your brows, frowning at his teasing. His brows lift up as his face brightens with amusement, and he shakes his head slowly with a smile.

“Thank you.” you say softly, and he nods, smile widening. 

“You’re so cute.” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes dart around, looking everywhere but at him, but he recaptures your attention when he snickers quietly and you meet his gaze to see he’s no longer looking at your eyes, but your lips, and there’s a distinct longing in his stare that unnerves you and, if you’re honest, piques your curiosity. “Did you make it here okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, eyes shifting back and forth from his eyes to your lap before you give into temptation and look at his lips, regretting it instantly when they quirk up into a smirk as he catches you looking. “The bus was basically empty, and it had heating today.”

“Mm, that’s good to hear,” he muses, running his fingers through his hair, and you attempt to hide the way you swallow thickly at the attractive sight. “We don’t want anyone pressing up against such a pretty girl and trying anything sleazy, right?”

“Um…” you trail off, managing to restrain the reply on the tip of your tongue that Haechan is probably the most likely candidate to press up against you and try something sleazy.

“...Right.” he finishes for you, and you nibble your bottom lip.

“...Right.” you echo, and he grins. 

“So… Do you wanna smoke?” he asks.

“I do,” you confirm shyly, and he smiles slightly, no doubt amused by your nervousness.

“Good girl. Did you wanna hit my pen? It’s pretty strong.” he offers, and you won’t lie—your brain blanks for a minute at the praise, but you’re pretty sure you manage to recover just in time for Haechan not to notice anything.  

“Okay,” you reply hesitantly, and he grins.

“Great—give me one second to get something.” he says before standing up and heading to the back of the apartment to his room. You wait fairly patiently, fingers lightly drumming on your knee as you wait for him to return.

“What’s up?” Mark asks curiously.

“Haechan’s getting something from his room.” you explain, and Mark nods slowly, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Haechan returns from the back of the apartment after a moment with a new cartridge in his hand. You watch with mild fascination as he deftly switches the cartridges in his pen, taking a test pull and holding it in for so much time, you’d swear he’s trying to show off.

When he looks over at you and winks before blowing it out, your suspicions are confirmed. 

“This strain is special,” Haechan murmurs to you, and his eyes drop to your lips as he continues, “it’s a ‘horny’ strain.”

“A horny strain?” you mumble, confused, and he nods with a grin.

“It heightens libido.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want some?”

“That’s not real,” Mark calls out from across the living room, and you crane your head to see him. “There’s no actual science to back that up.”

Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No one signed up for your TEDTalk on weed; save it.”

Mark grumbles something about misinformation being the death of society but remains otherwise silent.

Haechan calls your attention back to him with a simple clearing of the throat, and you look back at him to see his gaze heavy-lidded and sultry as he regards you, and you start to wonder if Mark might actually be the misinformed one.

“Want some?” he repeats his question from earlier, and you hesitate, making him roll his eyes and chuckle. “It’s not gonna bite you.” As you shift closer to take the pen from him, he holds it out of your reach with a glint in his eye. “I might, though,” he murmurs, and you swallow thickly.

He scans your frame, eyes lingering on your almost outstretched hand, and takes a slow, deep pull from the pen, not holding it in for nearly as long before he’s leaning towards you suddenly, making you yelp and draw back.

“Relax,” he mumbles, some of the smoke slipping from his mouth. He cups your chin in his hand and tugs gently to get you to open your mouth before leaning closer, so close that you fear your lips might touch, leading you to attempt to pull back; however, Haechan’s grip on your chin tightens, a clear sign to stay where you are, and he blows the smoke into your mouth slowly. You’re deeply flustered at first, but your instincts kick in as you inhale the secondhand smoke, holding it in your lungs for a couple of seconds before blowing it back out.

When you’re done exhaling, you expect to pull back, but Haechan’s grip on you hasn’t loosened, the male now studying your lips with an intensity in his gaze that gives you a twinge of anxiety and something else you don’t have it in you to identify. 

“You ever shotgunned before?” he asks softly, and you shake your head as much as his hold on you will allow. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” you mumble meekly. “Can you let me go now?”

He rolls his eyes slowly, lips quirking into a cocky grin as he does just that, releasing your chin and sitting back. “If you say so.”

“Thanks,” you mutter quietly, and he flicks his brows upwards in acknowledgement, gaze scanning you before lingering for a moment by the side of your face. “What is it?”

“You have something in your hair,” he says, gesturing to near your ear. When you fail to retrieve the foreign object, he tsks in dissatisfaction before leaning over and gently removing a single white feather from your hair. “Probably from the pillows.” he explains, the backs of his fingers gently grazing your ear as he pulls back. When you squirm away from his touch slightly, the contact too sensitive and ticklish, Haechan chuckles softly. “Look how nervous I make you.” His fingers return to your ear, gently stroking the shell of your ear, and your face blazes with embarrassment and something else as he hums softly. “Even your ear is hot. Do I make you hot anywhere else?” He drops his hand, fingers lightly skimming your upper thigh, and you just about jump out of your skin, cursing internally when you see the delight in his expression.

“Thanks for getting the feather out of my hair,” you say in a desperate attempt to navigate the conversation elsewhere, but it seems Haechan isn’t quite set on letting you off that easily.

“Oh, come on,” he presses, sitting closer to you and leaning so close you can smell his (delicious) cologne. “Don’t tell me your heart isn’t racing right now.”

It is, you think grimly. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

“Haechan, leave the poor girl alone,” Karina calls from the other end of the couch, and the momentary waver in Haechan’s attention on you as his eyes dart elsewhere is all you need to scoot further back and smooth your skirt out with a vigorous clearing of your throat.

When Haechan looks back over at you, you’ve thankfully managed to regain a semblance of your composure, your gaze politely but pointedly focused at your hands in your lap.

“Pretty girl, you want another hit of the pen?” Haechan offers, and you think back to the way Haechan clutched your chin earlier to shotgun you, finally shaking your head in refusal. “Okay,” he relents, reaching into his back pocket for something and frowning before pulling out an empty hand. “I have something for you.” he says before standing up and heading back to his room.

He emerges once more with a half of a red gummy cube sticking out of his mouth, sitting back down on the couch and draping his arm over the back so it’s ghosting just over your shoulders. “Bite,” he urges through closed teeth, and you shoot him a wary look. “Bite,” he stresses, and you falter, not sure if you should.

“Is it an edible?” you ask cautiously, and he rolls his eyes, an amused chuckle leaving him. 

“Yes. Bite.” It’s not a request, and instead of getting huffy about him bossing you around, you’re more surprised than anyone else when you lean in and carefully bite the other end of the gummy, tugging your half away from his mouth before chewing it. It’s sweet and sugary, but there’s a definite strong aftertaste, a tongue-drying, almost numbing sensation that reminds you it was more than just a little snack. “See, you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You don’t answer, instead sitting back and pulling out your phone to fire off a quick text to your group chat consisting of the two girls sitting a little ways away from you and your fourth roommate, Yurin, who usually frequents these hangout sessions but had to pass this time to study for midterms.

you [18:11pm] SOS

you [18:11pm] he keeps being all TOUCHY TOUCHY what do i do?

You set your phone down on the couch face down and stand up, heading to the bathroom to calm your nerves. 

Little do you know, your phone buzzes while you’re gone, Haechan’s curiosity getting the better of him as he flips your phone over. 

Luckily for him, and very unluckily for you, you don’t have a privacy setting on your Messages app notifications, meaning that any incoming texts can be read by any prying eyes, no passcode necessary.

yurin big trouble mister [18:14pm] maybe tell him how you get all TOUCHY TOUCHY with yourself to the thought of him 😁

karina bo bina [18:16pm] god could you be any more crass??

yurin big trouble mister [18:17pm] LMAOOO i couldn’t help it the joke was right there

yeri berry [18:18pm] you’re laughing. our dear friend is about to get consumed by a weed smoking incubus and you’re laughing.

Haechan snorts to himself in amusement, deliberately leaving your phone face-up for your return. You enter the room shortly after, picking up your phone and scrolling through your notifications with a small frown bordering on a grimace.

“What’s got you all upset, pretty?” Haechan asks, feigning curiosity, and you flinch, locking your phone and tossing it in your lap in a panic. “And now you’re jumpy, too? What’s on that phone that’s got you so stressed out, hm?” 

“Nothing,” you answer far too quickly for your liking. 

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Haechan persists, voice lowering in pitch and volume as he moves closer to you, eyes bright with excitement and something else you can’t quite place. “I think there’s something incriminating on that phone.”

“Incriminating?” you mumble, dazed and flustered, and Haechan nods slowly, lips curling into a wolfish grin. 

“Incriminating like… nudes, maybe,” he muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, and at the sight of your confused face, shakes his head. “That must not be it. Maybe a message of some sort… from a friend…” You freeze as you realize exactly what’s going on, and Haechan’s grin only widens now that he can tell you know that he knows. “Wonder what you look like when you… how did she put it? ‘Get all touchy touchy with yourself’ to the thought of me.” 

“Haechan,” you murmur, heart rate quickening as you try to think of any possible way out of this conversation. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I think it’s exactly what I think it is.” he counters with a mischievous wiggle of his brows, and you whimper in panic, desire starting to blaze in his eyes at the sound. 

“What were you doing looking at my phone, anyway?” you accuse, cursing to yourself as your voice shakes slightly.

“I’m nosy,” is all he offers in response. “And, oh, please, you wanted me to see that text. You wanted me to know that late at night,” he teases, pulling your hand closest to him away as you squeal and try to cover your ears, “you touch your pretty little pussy,” he forces your hand back down between you two with a chuckle, “and think about me.”

“Could you lower your voice, please?” you mumble nervously, and he just laughs.

“You don’t want everyone to know that you’re into me, do you?” he remarks, and you swallow thickly, looking down at your lap. “I’ll keep your little secret. For a price.”

You study him out of the corner of your eye suspiciously. “What price?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before leaning back and draping his arm behind you on the couch. “I’ll let you know.” His voice is teasing but there’s an ominous edge to his voice that makes you gulp.

“Hey, Yeri?” you call, and her attention is on you instantly. “Remember when, um, you hit that blinker earlier? How’s your throat feeling?”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly in understanding and she rubs her throat gingerly, frowning deeply. “It’s still sore. Wanna come get some water with me?”

“Yes,” you accept the offer gratefully and practically spring up from the couch, following after Yeri and ignoring, to the best of your ability, Haechan’s little snicker from behind you.

“You wanna switch seats?” Yeri asks in a low, concerned voice as you two enter the kitchen, and she laughs when you hesitate.

“I mean, I like it, I just… need a quick break.” you mumble, and she nods, pouring herself a glass of water. “Could you guys, um, hear him earlier?”

“No… why?” she scrutinizes you, and you blink, flustered. 

“He saw the group chat texts.” you mutter, and her eyes widen in alarm, setting her glass down a bit too harshly, the loud clink resonating throughout the room.

“I’m gonna kill Yurin.” she hisses.

“Not if I get there first.” you huff, and she snickers. Footsteps sound out from the living room, making their way to the kitchen, and Yeri pauses. “It’s not Haechan,” you assure her. “I think it’s Karina.”

Sure enough, Karina enters the kitchen, and Yeri looks at you in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“I recognize the footsteps.” you explain with a shrug. “Plus, the guys are wearing house slippers and we’re in, like, socks, so it makes a different sound.”

“Okay, little miss super spy.” Yeri teases with a laugh, and you giggle, pushing her playfully. “Have you recovered, you think?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, smiling. “I’m ready to go back out there.”

“What’d I miss?” Karina whines, and Yeri looks at you expectantly.

“Haechan saw the texts about me… at night… that Yurin sent.” you explain carefully, and Karina lets out a loud gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“I’m killing her.” she groans, and you and Yeri chuckle.

“Get in line, girl.” Yeri says, and Karina snorts in amusement.

“You’re gonna be okay if we go back out there, right?” Karina asks worriedly, and you’re briefly overcome with appreciation for your friends.

“I’ll be okay, I’m pretty sure. I’ll just say blinker again if anything goes wrong.” you confirm, nodding resolutely, and the crease between Karina’s brows fades away as she relaxes.

You three make your way back to the living room, fully preparing to sit back down, but thankfully, before Haechan can torment you further, Jeno inadvertently saves your life and whatever’s left of your dignity by standing up from the couch abruptly and clapping his hands together. “I’m hungry. Diner?”

“I would kill for waffles,” Karina agrees, and Mark and Haechan also stand and start to grab their belongings as you all make your way to the door and slip your shoes on. 

As you shuffle between Yeri and Karina for protection and wait as the elevator descends to the indoor garage of the apartment complex, a tickle starts to build in your throat, making you clear it quietly, then more insistently when the sensation persists. 

“You okay?” Haechan asks, hand poised over your back to pat it in assistance, and you nod.

“My throat is just… a little dry,” you mumble, and Haechan nods in understanding, reaching into his jacket and handing you a Blow Pop. “Thanks,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised as you unwrap the lollipop and stick it into your mouth. By the time the doors open on the garage floor, the flavored saliva produced by the sweet treat sitting in your cheek has almost entirely soothed your throat, and you’re feeling significantly better. 

The six of you make your way to where Jeno’s and Haechan’s cars are parked beside each other and stand behind the two cars, silently deliberating amongst yourselves.

“Well, I call shotgun.” Mark calls out, and Jeno unlocks his car, Mark sliding into the passenger seat.

“There’s no way all six of us are gonna cram into Jeno’s car,” Yeri remarks incredulously. 

“Yeah, definitely not, because my middle backseat’s seat belt isn’t working and the airbag sensors are fucked up, so it’s a seat belt or nothing in my car.” Jeno laments, and your skin starts to crawl as you realize where this might be heading. 

“So your car only seats four… and there are six of us…” you say slowly, pulling the lollipop from your lips with a muted wet pop that has Haechan eyeing you like a lion about to corner the slowest gazelle of the herd. Usually, there are seven of you, so even if you had to ride with Haechan, there’d be a third body present in the form of the lovably boisterous Yurin.

Curse Yurin’s midterms, and curse Yurin for sending that text, and curse yourself for leaving your phone where Haechan could see, and curse Haechan for being nosy—

“I’ll ride with Haechan,” Karina offers, noticing the way you become more and more quiet as you sink further into your worries. 

“No, you won’t.” Haechan says, leaning against his passenger door. Everyone looks over at him, and he just pushes off of the door, opening it and pointing directly at you. “Get in.”

“Oh, gosh.” you mumble, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed effect making you feel sluggish or you’re really that apprehensive, but you feel a bit like a puppet with sandbags for shoes, your feet hesitantly shuffling, dragging, scuffling towards Haechan’s passenger door.

“It’s an eight-minute drive,” Yeri calls to you sympathetically, and you nod, shooting her a feeble thumbs up that you don’t even believe. “We’ll see you soon!” 

“Yeah,” you croak, feeling very much like a lamb being led to slaughter, and Haechan smiles sweetly at you, baring all his teeth as you sit in his car. He closes the passenger door and crosses over to the driver’s side, opening the door and getting in. 

When Haechan finishes settling down into the driver’s seat, checking his mirror views and pulling up the GPS to the diner, he straps himself in and looks over at you, eyes scanning your frame for something—you don’t quite know what. Seemingly done with his inspection, he leans closer to you without warning and reaches for the seat belt buckle in your chair, pulling it out and over your body as he clicks it into place. The whole while, he’s invading your personal space, your breath catching in your throat as you realize his face is close enough to yours that you could probably count his lashes if you wanted to.

He turns his head ever so slightly, eyes locking on yours, and you blink rapidly in alarm, rendered immobile as he studies your face.

“You look so cute, all innocent and helpless like this.” he murmurs softly, and the tiniest of squeaks escapes you, his eyes flashing with glee at the sound. “Now stop looking at me like that,” he warns, “or I’ll kiss you.”

You blanch, trying immediately to make any other expression than the one you didn’t even know you were sporting, and he chuckles before sitting back in his seat and starting his car. He turns the air conditioning on—a strange choice, considering it’s a bit nippy outside—and pulls out of his spot, starting to drive towards the diner.

It doesn’t take long for you to get cold, goosebumps gradually appearing on your arms and legs, but you’re a bit too nervous to say anything, instead suffering in silence. You clasp your hands together in your lap, rubbing them together for warmth, and, as he stops at a red light, Haechan looks over at you, watching in fascination as you shift in your seat for any sort of friction that could warm you. After a moment, you notice his eyes fixated pointedly on your chest, and you spare a glance down to see, to your alarm, that your nipples are hard, starting to poke through your clothing, and you curse internally for wearing a thin, lacy bra that does nothing to conceal your stiffened buds.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, smirking in what seems like satisfaction, before refocusing his attention on the road. You cross your arms over your chest protectively, tucking your fingers into the crooks of your elbows as he drives down the road.

“We’re here,” he announces after some time, pulling into a parking spot in front of the diner and turning the car off. The cold air blowing through the vents shuts off, much to your relief, and you unbuckle your seat belt before he gets the chance, practically flinging yourself out of the car into the significantly less cold night air.

As you all file into the diner, you notice a man staring very pointedly at you and your bare legs and your chest, where your nipples have yet to go down. 

Haechan scans the room, catches sight of the man, and follows his gaze back to where you stand, his jaw clenching.

“Put this on,” Haechan murmurs, shrugging off his jacket and offering it to you. You start to take it, eager for warmth, but pause, looking at him suspiciously.

“Why?”

His gaze flicks over your shoulder at where the man from earlier sits, and understanding dawns on you. “Just—put it on for me?” 

You nod, gratefully accepting the jacket, and Haechan steps closer, draping it over your shoulders and helping you put your arms through the sleeves. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he nods.

“You look cute in my jacket.” he remarks with a small smirk, and your cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he trails his tongue along his bottom lip before gesturing for you to follow after him with a jerk of his head, a quick peek past him revealing the hostess who’s arrived to take you all to your seats.

When you arrive at the booth, Haechan’s right by you, gesturing for you to go in first. You do so without complaint, preferring the inner seat anyway, but it’s when Haechan slides in next to you that you realize your mistake as he closes you into the booth corner, the main obstacle between you and freedom from, well, him.

As the hostess passes out menus and you all start to look them over, you feel the side of his hand resting against the side of your thigh, making you attempt to shift away from his hand, the touch too intimate for you to handle at the moment.

Somehow, his hand finds its way back against your leg, palm turned up slightly as he lightly grazes his fingertips along your thigh, and you suck in a sharp breath, doing your best to pass it off as a cough when Haechan looks over at you, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I’m gonna get the breakfast platter,” Yeri says excitedly. “It comes with pancakes, eggs prepared how you want them, homefries, and your choice of meat.” 

“That sounds so good,” you reply thoughtfully. “I think I want a burger.” 

“Yeah, a burger sounds good,” Haechan agrees, eyes slowly sliding over to study your reaction as he flattens his palm against your leg, slowly sliding it up to caress your upper thigh. Your reaction must be nothing short of rewarding, as you jolt so forcefully that you shake the table slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“You okay, girl?” Karina asks, worried, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

“I just, um…felt a tickle on my ankle. Thought it was a bug or something.” you mumble, and she nods, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

“I know I said waffles earlier, but I kind of want these barbecue ribs,” Karina says, pointing at an entry on the menu, but you can barely make your gaze focus on where her finger touches the menu because Haechan’s hand is still very much on your thigh, and to make matters worse, you think you like it.

His hand slides up higher, the side of his thumb slipping under the hem of your skirt, and you raise your glass to your lips in an attempt to act natural, hoping and praying no one notices the way your hand is shaking slightly.

Haechan leans in closer to you, murmuring in your ear, “This must be a dream come true for you, huh?” He grips your thigh firmly, not even attempting to play it off as a casual touch anymore, and you barely manage to stifle your yelp of surprise in time. “Must have been wanting this for so long,” he breathes secretively, smiling lips grazing the shell of your ear so subtly, no one else would notice unless they were paying unnaturally close attention.

You, however, do notice. Not only do you notice, but you suck in a sharp breath of surprise, the sudden movement making the water in your cup slosh forward and spill out slightly, a few droplets dripping down your chin.

You suck your teeth in mild irritation, glaring at Haechan as you reach for your napkin, but he’s faster, his free hand coming up and wiping the liquid off of your chin.  

“Um, thanks.” you mumble, and he nods, locking eyes with you as he licks at the pad of his thumb, cleaning off the water droplets with his mouth. “Oh, dear Neptune.” you whisper to yourself, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the moment. “Where is this waitress—I need to eat something.”

“Yeah, we should let her know we’re ready to order,” Mark says, waving a hand out to flag down the waitress. As she approaches, you sneak a peek at Haechan, whose expression is surprisingly calm and neutral given the sensual, slow circles he’s drawing on your upper thigh with his thumb.

Haechan’s hand slips further in between your legs, getting dangerously close to your core, and you decide that’s enough play time for him, clamping your legs together forcefully.

“You trapped my hand, pretty girl,” he points out with a growing grin, and you ignore him even as he continues, “I didn’t know you liked it that much.”

You still don’t give him a response, staring stubbornly out the booth window, and he chuckles before withdrawing his hand from your legs with such ease that you wonder if he was ever really stuck there.

“Oh, we’re doing the silent treatment? Copy that.” he muses, nodding slowly in understanding, and you can’t help but wonder what else he has in store for you.

Today, the energy in the room is entirely different—and you don’t like it one bit.

Haechan won’t even acknowledge you today; his eyes skip over you when he scans the room like you’re not even there, or, worse, he seems to be looking completely through you at times, completely unaffected by your presence.

“Girl, did you piss Haechan off or something?” Yeri whispers to you, and your brows knit together as you shake your head. “He hasn’t made a single move on you all day.”

“I know,” you mutter bitterly.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Karina supplies in an attempt to help, but her words practically fall on deaf ears as you stare burning holes into the side of his face as he laughs at something Mark said.

“I’m about to be sick,” you mumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as your somewhat secret crush that used to be obsessed with you treats you like you’re nothing more than a couch cushion.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but when Haechan gets up and heads towards the kitchen. you find yourself standing to follow, mumbling that you’ll be right back to Karina.

Haechan stands with his back to you at the kitchen island, pouring a can of something—it looks like Monster—into a glass, and you take a moment to admire his slender yet lean build, the curve of his shoulders and the perfectly mussed up state of his hair—

“I know you’re there, you know.” he says calmly, and your eyes widen as you immediately attempt to look busy doing anything other than blatantly ogling him. He turns right when you’ve reached for a bag of Ruffles chips and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You have something you want to say?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly thrown off-guard, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I noticed you staring at me,” is all he says in response, and you blanch, pursing your lips carefully.

“Haechan, are you mad at me?” you ask softly, and he smirks.

“And why do you ask that?”

You fidget with the hem of your skirt nervously, averting your gaze to look at the granite countertop. “Well, you… haven’t talked to me all night.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a concerningly long time, prompting you to look up at him and immediately wish you hadn’t. He looks beyond smug, and painfully attractive as he leans in slightly, not close enough to get in your space but close enough to send a thrill down your spine. 

“You were giving me the silent treatment the other day, right?” he reminds you, and you hesitate, realizing you were the cause for his radio silence. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Well, don’t.” you say with a frown, and he raises his eyebrows, amused and surprised.

“Why not? Did you miss me or something?” he teases, and you balk, losing all your nerve as quickly as you’d found it.

“No!” you answer quickly, and he arches an eyebrow skeptically, prompting you to continue, “No, I just—”

“You and I don’t really talk much, anyway,” Haechan muses, leaning his back against the island as he regards you with a cocky glint in his eyes. “So what is it you really miss, hm?”

“Well—” you struggle to find your words, and something softens in Haechan’s gaze, the cocky twinkle now accompanied with a smile bordering dangerously on fondness.

“You miss me messing with you, don’t you?” he asks, and at your lack of response, nods in confirmation. “You miss me touching you?” he questions, dragging out the syllables excruciatingly slowly. He sucks his teeth when you still don’t reply and says, “I know you do. You know you do. Now just admit it.”

“I can’t,” you protest weakly, and he shrugs, raising his hands in surrender.

“You want me to touch you again? Give me what I want.” He sounds dead serious and painfully unwavering on his stance, prompting you to whimper quietly to yourself, too wrapped up in your own nerves to notice the way his eyes darken at the sound of your desperation.

“I want you to touch me.” you mumble shamefully, and his lips quirk up into the beginnings of a smile. 

“Come here; say it again.” he urges, beckoning you closer, and you hesitate, making a challenge flash in his expression before he’s poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek and chuckling. “Don’t make me come over there.”

“I want you,” you say, “to touch me,” you repeat your words from earlier, trying desperately to look anywhere but at him.

You can see him crossing the distance between you in your peripheral vision, your insides tensing with anticipation as he gets closer and closer. To your utter disappointment, he continues to walk as if he’s going to pass you, only pausing to tilt his head to the side in a patronizing display of faux sympathy.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?” he chuckles, not even giving you a chance to respond before he continues his path out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What in the absolute hell did you just get yourself into?

You’re coming back from the bathroom when you quite literally almost run into Haechan in the hallway. 

“Sorry,” you say, stepping to the side to get past, but he steps to the same side. You laugh awkwardly before stepping to the other side, only for him to do the same, his movements far too calculated to be a mistake, and you come to the realization that he’s intentionally blocking your path. “Haechan?” you ask quietly, nervousness creeping into your voice, and he chuckles.

He takes a step towards you, prompting you to take a cautious one backwards, and his smile widens as he advances on you, slowly but surely herding you back towards the bathroom. When your back hits the nearby wall, your eyes widen, and he mocks you, briefly widening his eyes in faux surprise before flicking his brows up suggestively and placing one hand on the wall by your head on the side you could escape from, successfully trapping you in a makeshift corner. 

“You’re so cute, really.” Haechan sighs, smiling fondly at you, but there’s a devious twinkle in his eye as he regards you.

As he closes in on you, your body is alight with nerves and anticipation, and you decide to try again, feebly calling, “...Haechan?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he quiets you soothingly, reaching up with his free hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, baby.” As if to prove his point, he presses his knee between your legs, thigh pressing up against your clothed core, and a poorly restrained moan bubbles up in your throat.

“Haechan—” you whine, and he shoots you a smug smile.

“See, baby? I know you want it. You know I want it. That’s why you always wear these tiny fucking skirts whenever you come over,” he states, hand dropping from your face to tug at the hem of your skirt, and you gasp—both at the sudden yanking and the insistent pressing of his thigh against your core. “You like it when I do this. Bet you were waiting for me to slip my hands under your skirt to touch you.”

“Mm-mm,” you protest, but the way your hips move against him, rolling back and forth and grinding wantonly in search of relief, is telling another story, Haechan arching a brow skeptically. 

“Mm, no? You don’t like it? But, wait… what was that you said in the kitchen earlier?” he questions, a taunting lilt to his words. “‘I want you to touch me,’” he echoes your earlier request in a poor imitation of your voice. “Well, I’m touching you, baby—don’t you like it?” When your only reply is a small nod, he shakes his head disapprovingly, gaze darkening. “Words.”

“Yes,” you whimper, breath catching in your throat when he rewards you with a firm upwards press of his thigh into your core. Your movements speed up slightly as you feel that familiar tightening sensation in your abdomen, your climax not far ahead.

“Are you gonna cum just like this?” he asks, and there’s a hint of amusement to his words but it’s almost entirely overtaken by the heavy desire in his voice. 

“Mm-hm,” you whine softly, your desperation peaking as your high gets closer and closer. 

“Beg me to let you cum.” he urges, and you’re already so far gone that your shame is all but done away with.

“Please, Haechan, can I cum?” you pant urgently, a slight pleading quality to your words as you feel the beginnings of your climax, pleasure blooming between your legs in a gush of warmth. “Please?” you whimper, and something in him snaps, Haechan lurching forward and cupping your face in his hands to hold you in place as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tracing along your lower lip as you tremble and moan weakly into his mouth. 

When you move to pull away to breathe, he clutches your face more firmly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring at his leisure, all the while ignoring your muffled, plaintive cries for air. 

“Haechan, I can’t breathe,” you rasp out finally, and he lets you go with a shaky inhale and an unmistakable reluctance. 

“You are so goddamn addicting.” he pants, and his hands drop to your hips, resuming the motions you weren’t aware you’d stopped. “Keep going.”

His hands keep guiding your movements, practically dragging you back and forth on his thigh as he kisses you again. This kiss is messier than the last as he sucks on your tongue and pulls back to trail his lips down your neck, stopping just above your pulse point and sucking hard, a gasp escaping you at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mine,” he grunts against your throat, sinking his teeth into a new patch of skin and sucking there, too, without a doubt leaving some form of mark behind. “All fucking mine.” he repeats, clutching your hips tighter and dragging you up his leg and closer to him, lips parting from your neck with a loud, wet pop and connecting with yours eagerly. “Gonna fucking ruin you, princess.”

“Hae—” you barely get the first syllable of his name out before he’s sealing his mouth over yours again, fingers creeping into the kiss to pry your mouth open.

“Open,” he mutters, brows furrowed in concentration. When you oblige, he taps your tongue impatiently until you let it hang out of your mouth, Haechan sucking in a deep breath as he eyes you appreciatively. Without any warning or preamble, Haechan spits directly onto your tongue, and you whimper, voice cracking slightly. “Swallow. I’m gonna do it again.” You swallow his saliva, the extra moisture in your mouth jarring but not unwelcome, and return to your previous pose of your mouth open with your tongue hanging out. 

He grins and leans in again, hovering over your waiting tongue as he drops a long, clear string of saliva from his puckered lips down to your mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He pulls back from you slightly and pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth, the cool silver of his ring catching your taste buds as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, gliding them against your tongue to collect as much wetness as he can. “Good girl,” he coos, pleased, and you’re embarrassed by the rush of warmth between your legs that appears at the praise. “Need them nice and wet for you.”

Not wasting a minute, he snakes his slick, spit-covered fingers past the band of your underwear and starts to stroke over your folds, digits gliding amongst your arousal with embarrassing ease. 

“You’re a mess down here,” he remarks, eyes alight with glee and something wild, primal as he teases you. “You like me that much? Hm?” He seems not to need an answer as he grins cockily at you, eyes scanning your face intently to drink in your every reaction to his touch, no matter how small. He trails his fingers up, up, up until he’s brushing the underside of your clit, and you jolt, flinching away. 

“Haechan, that’s sensitive—”

“I know, baby,” he coos. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” With the hand not currently in your underwear, he laces his fingers with yours, the back of his hand pressed against the palm of your own, and trails your linked hands down your body to join his other hand in your underwear. “Show me,” he rasps, and you blink at him, too far gone to fully understand exactly what he means. “Show me how you do it when you’re alone—when you think of me.”

Cheeks blazing, you realize you’re in no position to refuse, so you guide his hand into massaging your clit in circles, your abdomen tensing reflexively whenever his fingers graze the sensitive underside of your clit. 

“Talk to me, baby.” he urges gently, and you whine in protest, the fire in your face increasing nearly tenfold. “Wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how you touch your little pussy.”

“I just rub it in circles like this,” you mumble, voice slightly husky with desire, and the shift doesn’t go unnoticed, if the intensifying of Haechan’s gaze means anything. 

“You don’t go inside?” he asks softly, and you shake your head.

“Doesn’t feel good when I do it,” you whimper, and he sucks in air sharply, swearing under his breath as he watches your face twist in pleasure. It’s all too much for you, having his undivided attention on you like this, and you look away, a shudder traveling through your body as another climax approaches.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, and you reluctantly oblige, pleading eyes locking on his as your peak gets closer by the second. “Only look at me.”

“Okay,” you agree, the last syllable coming out like more of a squeak, and he smiles brilliantly, the hand not pleasuring you slipping out of your underwear and lifting your shirt up to reveal your breasts in your thin, lacy light blue bra. Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your nipples through the fabric and starts to suck, tongue swirling around the stiffening bud so wetly that his saliva starts to darken the fabric, the warmth of his spit seeping through the fabric. 

He sucks at your nipples with an almost ferocity, alternating breasts like he can’t get enough of either, and his hand snakes around your back to unclasp your bra, Haechan pushing the garment out of the way as soon as it’s loose and latching onto your nipple with a low groan of satisfaction.

As he flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his fingers stroke you closer and closer to your high until you’re so close you can practically taste the sweet, heady feeling of ecstasy. “Show me what you sound like when you cum, baby.”

“Oh—shit—oh, my God,” you hiss as your eyes screw shut tight, pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm travels through your system. “Feels so good,” you whimper, and he hums in agreement.

“Say my name, baby.”

“Haechan—” you moan wantonly, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl as he tugs at your nipple with his teeth.

He doesn’t stop attending to your breasts until he’s certain he’s milked every last second of bliss from your body, alternating between sucking and flicking and swirling his tongue around the buds until you go limp, your body slumping against the wall for support. 

Finally, he pulls his arousal-coated fingers from your underwear, trailing them over your bottom lip before pushing the digits into your mouth to suck. 

You do so with an embarrassing amount of eagerness, and are just as surprised as Haechan when he pulls his fingers from your mouth and you whine in protest.

His brows shoot up into his hairline and you feel heat blazing furiously in your cheeks as he regards you with a mix of surprise and an expression that looks close to impressed.

“You like to suck, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod hesitantly. Something flashes in his dark eyes, and he grins. “Wanna suck something bigger?”

Hesitant but undoubtedly excited, you nod, and he wets his lips before setting about unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans. 

As he does, you slowly sink to your knees, and when he looks up from his pants to see you kneeling before him, he lets out a loud swear that you fear might blow your cover.

As you stare in awe at his impressive size, you realize you’re less worried about getting caught than you are about having to stop. He watches you watch him with amusement and fascination, but the undercurrent of desire runs strong as he clicks his tongue to get your attention. 

You look up at him, and he licks his lips, exhaling a small puff of air before wrapping a hand around his base.

“This is the prettiest sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he praises, and you smile, heat rising to your cheeks once more. Lowering himself slightly, he cups your breasts, pressing them together and grunting, “I’m gonna fuck these one day. But now?” he says, releasing them and stroking your chin affectionately. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth.”

“You ever suck someone off, baby?” he asks in a low voice, and you shake your head, making his eyes slide shut in bliss as he squeezes himself harder. “Fuck, I’m your first?”

“Yes,” you mumble shyly, and he coos affectionately at you, leaning down slightly to cup your chin with his free hand. 

“Remember when you were sucking that little lollipop the other day?” he asks, and you nod. “It’s kind of like that. Use your tongue, and the wetter it is, the better.”

You nod carefully and sit forward, letting your jaw drop open. 

“Fuck, baby. Tongue out for me?” he grunts, and you oblige, letting your tongue drop out of your mouth and lie flat for him. “So good, baby, just like that,” he encourages, leaning forward and guiding the head of his cock into your mouth. 

It feels strange but not unwelcome, and you suck gently at the head of his cock, more focused on using your tongue to explore the intrusion in your mouth. Based on the way Haechan’s breathing shallows and quickens, you suspect you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Baby, you’re so good at this,” he groans, his head tipping back before it snaps back up as he seemingly realizes he’d rather watch you. “Mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.”

You can only manage a whimper as you boldly press forward, taking more of his length into your mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his length before tentatively flicking it over the slit in the head of his cock. He groans weakly and, emboldened, you do it again, Haechan letting out a delicious little grunt that spurs you to kick it up another notch.

You start to bob your head, doing your best to alternate between bobbing and licking, and Haechan shudders deeply, his hand releasing the rest of his cock and moving to cup the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair. 

“Just like that—fuck—” he hisses, biting his lip as he watches you suck him off, skill increasing with every movement. When you push forward a bit too suddenly, eager to impress him, you choke briefly on his length, throat constricting slightly as your gag reflex activates slightly. “Oh, shit—”

Despite the slight ache to the back of your throat, you keep sucking, moving forward slower this time to allow your throat time to adjust to his size. When you massage the underside of his tip with your tongue, wet muscle gliding over the ridge of skin, he moans your name and it’s one of the most rewarding sounds you think you’ve ever heard.

“So good,” he pants as you bob your head up and down, and his length twitches in your mouth, giving you a hint that he’s close. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You move your head faster, sucking his length to the best of your ability with all the tricks you just learned, and his fingers grip your hair tightly as he spills into your mouth, his hips sluggishly thrusting forward as he shallowly fucks your mouth. 

“You,” he grunts, helping you to your feet so you’re face to face and kissing you deeply, “are a fast little learner.” His tongue slips between your lips and he explores your mouth eagerly, licking at your tongue and inner cheeks as you whimper, dizzied by the fervor of his kisses. 

“Baby,” he mumbles into the kiss, the urgency in his voice waking you up slightly, “I wanna eat you out. Can I taste you, princess?” When you nod, he grins brilliantly. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He drops to his knees and slides his hands up from your ankles, hands slipping under your skirt to caress your hips. Pulling your underwear off, he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, warm, slender fingers spreading apart your folds to get a better look at you.

When you whine softly in embarrassment, he shushes you gently, murmuring, “I just want to admire you for a second, baby, please?” He ducks his head under your skirt and sucks in a sharp breath when he’s met with the sight of your core, folds glistening with your arousal. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he breathes in awe, and before you can reply, his mouth is on you, upper lip resting just above your clit as his tongue strokes along your folds indulgently.

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, stumbling back slightly to lean against the wall behind you. Haechan moves with you fluidly, massaging your clit with his tongue as his fingers clutch your thighs, kneading the flesh with greedy, rough movements.

Tongue moving downwards towards your entrance, he prods the tip of it against your hole, chuckling when you jolt and squirm under his actions. “Don’t be shy, baby, I just want to taste.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and he must be able to tell, because his tongue pushes forward, slowly breaching your entrance. You suck in a loud breath as his tongue delves further into you, occasionally coming out to slurp up the arousal dripping from your hole. 

“Tastes so good, baby,” he moans, his nose rubbing against your clit as he slowly starts to move his tongue in and out inside of you. The feeling is strange but amazing, a slightly ticklish element to the pleasure you’re receiving as he tongue-fucks you. 

Slurping loudly and moaning even louder, Haechan loses himself in your core, alternating between tongue-fucking you and licking at your folds and clit, leaving sloppy wet kisses that make your mind spin.

“Yeah, you like that?” he grunts, sucking at your clit hard before slipping his tongue out to stroke the sensitive underside of the sensitive bud. “You like when I kiss your pretty pussy? Hm? Do you like it when I make out with your sweet little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimper, fingers clutching at his head over your skirt. When you get a good grip on him, you start to pull him closer, wanting more of his touch.

“Always so good—so shy and innocent.” Haechan murmurs, words slightly muffled from his oral ministrations on your pussy. “Now look at you; look how bad you’re being.”

“Haechan, please,” you breathe, and he turns his head to suck at your inner thighs, no doubt leaving a mark or two in his wake.

“Wanna see just how bad I can make you be.” he coos before surging forward to lap at your core eagerly, losing himself once more in the taste of you. “Fucking delicious, baby, you taste so good for me.”

He sucks and licks and kisses—even nibbles a bit—until your legs are shaking and your grip on his hair is iron-clad. You briefly consider the extremely compromising position someone might find you in if one of your friends walked down the hall and are surprised to find that not only do you not care, but there’s even a smidge of excitement when you think about getting caught like this, with Haechan’s head under your skirt and your breasts exposed.

“Haechan, I’m—I think I’m gonna—” you pant out, and he nods fervently, tongue slipping out of your entrance to flick your clit back and forth rapidly, a sharp whine slipping from you.

“Cum for me, baby—cum all on my tongue.” he urges, pulling you closer as he feverishly laps at your clit and entrance, shaking his head from side to side rapidly to run his tongue along your core back and forth. “That’s it, pretty girl, just let go.” he purrs, coaxing your climax out of you, and you do just that, letting the coil wound tight in your abdomen snap and letting the pleasure flood through your body.

“Haechan—” you whimper, and he hums soothingly as his tongue massages your clit once more, thoroughly milking your orgasm for all its worth. When the trembling of your legs has calmed down slightly and you’ve started to breathe normally once more, he pops his head out from under your skirt and winks up at you, chin and lips covered in your arousal.

“You’re addicting, baby; could eat your pussy for hours.” he says as he rises to his feet. A look downwards grants you the sight of his erection, fully hard once more, and you swallow thickly before looking up at him only to see that he’s already watching you with a small grin on his face. “Think you can handle one more?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, and Haechan beams at you, drawing closer and closer until you’re flat against the wall. 

Nudging your legs apart, he settles between them and aligns his tip with your entrance, looking up from where your bodies meet to your face.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, and you nod carefully, eyes drifting back down from his face to where the thick head of his length presses against your core. “Good girl,” he breathes before pushing into you slowly, covering your mouth with his palm as you gasp out loudly. “Baby, they’ll catch us if you keep making noise like that.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, but it’s a muffled apology given that Haechan’s hand is still firmly clasped over your mouth. “So full,” you whisper in awe, and he chuckles lowly in your ear, lips pressing to the spot just behind your lobe. 

“Feel so tight around me, baby,” he grunts, his labored breathing in your ear telling you that he’s just as affected as you are. “So fucking good—”

“Haechan, move,” you whisper urgently as he bottoms out in you, and he obliges, pulling out to the tip and pushing into you again. A loud whoosh of air escapes your lungs, and he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, making you let out a loud whimper that would have been much louder had Haechan’s hand not muffled it.

“I’m starting to think you want to get caught.” Haechan murmurs with a smile on his lips as he kisses along your jaw and moves his hand to kiss you. 

“Mm—! No, I don’t—” you insist through your cries of pleasure, and he shakes his head with a taunting grin.

“Yes, you do,” he teases. “You want all our friends to come in this hallway and see me fucking you like the perfect little fuckdoll I always knew you could be.”

“Hae–chan—” you stutter, tiny noises leaving you with every powerful thrust of his hips. He’s so good, so big and thick, and he’s filling you up just right and hitting all the right places, and it becomes too much very quickly, an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushing through your body as he fucks into you. If it couldn’t get worse for you, he reaches between you two and his fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick circles just like you showed him earlier. “Fuck—stop—too much—”

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” he coos, shifting himself to angle his hips into you just right so that every snap of his hips sends his tip fucking directly into your g-spot. 

You feel warmth behind your eyes, the telltale pricking at the corners that you know all too well, and the first tear drops before you can wipe it away, another tear following after that as the pleasure all but consumes you.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry, it feels good,” he consoles you, reaching up with his free hand to wipe your tears away. 

“So good—too good—” you babble, and he laughs at that, brows furrowing at the end as you clench around him.

“It can’t be too good, baby—you’re not making sense anymore.” he says with a playful lilt, and you whimper, more tears falling as you sniffle pathetically. “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Wanna cum—Haechan, please let me cum—” you beg, and his movements stutter, Haechan looking at you in surprise.

“Yeah? Baby wants to cum?” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as your walls flex around him again. “Fuck, I love when you do that—feels so good—cum for me, baby.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you promptly fall apart around him with a messy string of swears and “please” and utterances of Haechan’s name as your nails dig into his forearm, making him wince slightly. You’re sure you look a mess, eyes wet and glossy as tears stream down your cheeks, but Haechan’s drinking in your appearance like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Baby—I’m close—fuck—” Haechan grunts. “Gonna cum—where do you want it?”

“Want it inside of me, please—” you croak weakly, and he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a smug chuckle and a moan.

“Can’t believe you were skittish as a mouse just the other day, and now you’re begging for my cum. Want me to fill you up?” he pants, hips driving into yours with reckless abandon. 

“Please—” you whimper, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck—take it all, baby,” he urges, hips pressing into yours as he buries himself in you and empties his load. “It’s all for you,” he says breathlessly as his length twitches inside of you.

He stays inside of you for a moment, both of you attempting to catch your breath, before he slowly pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants and helping you fix your skirt back into place. To your confusion, he hooks his fingers in your underwear, pulling the thin, arousal-soaked fabric down and off your legs. 

“Um…” you start, and Haechan looks over at you, brows raised expectantly. “Those are mine,” you state, pointing at the fabric in his fist.

“And now,” he hums, bringing them to his face and inhaling deeply, eyes sliding shut in bliss just in time to miss your scandalized expression. “They’re mine. C’mon; you should use the bathroom.”

He loops his fingers around yours, other hand stuffing your underwear in his back pocket as he leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes behind you, you sit down on the toilet with slightly shaky legs, taking a moment to think about everything that just occurred. 

You would have never in a million years thought that you’d have sex with Haechan, let alone in the hallway—let alone, with your friends in the very next room. However, as you think over the events that just transpired, your body is filled with a warm thrum of satisfaction, and you can’t seem to find an ounce of regret. 

“Girl, where the hell were you?!” Karina exclaims, fussing over you as soon as you reappear in the living room. “We’ve been texting and calling for ages!”

“Oh,” you mumble, pulling your phone from the little pocket in your skirt. “It’s been on Do Not Disturb,” you explain sheepishly, and Karina rolls her eyes hard.

“Don’t do that again. You had us worried sick. What were you even doing for so long?”

“Um… well, Haechan and I,” you start, casting a side glance to the couch where Haechan sits and hesitating slightly when you see that he’s watching you intently, not an ounce of shame in his expression. “We hooked up.” you say finally, straightening your back slightly and standing up taller.

Yeri’s jaw drops. “About damn time.” she remarks, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“Hush, you.” you huff, looking over at where Haechan sits once more. He locks eyes with you and grins, patting the empty spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and you smile, looking away from him to address your bewildered friends. “I’ll explain everything later—”

“Yeah, yeah, just go, girl.” Karina chuckles. “He’s waiting,” she sing-songs, and you elbow her slightly before shooting them a bright smile and a small wave and making your way to sit next to Haechan. 

When you sit down, Haechan drapes his arm around you on the back of the couch, and you can feel the heat creeping to your cheeks.

“So,” he says carefully, taking a hit of his pen and exhaling slowly before he continues, “I know this is a little backwards of me, but… do you wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

“I’d like that,” you reply with a bashful smile, and he grins, relieved.

“Great. Now in the meantime,” he says, looking pointedly towards the hallway before looking back at you expectantly, “I have a nice ass TV, snacks, and a strong ass edible with your name on it in my room. You down?”

You don’t even hesitate. “I’m down.” you agree, smile widening, and he nods, satisfied. He stands from the couch and offers you his hand, which you take as he pulls you to your feet.

As you trail after him towards his room, fingers still locked with his, you can’t help but notice the familiar peek of fabric sticking out of his back pocket, and your eyes widen in alarm.

“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, and he looks back at you with raised brows. “My, um, underwear is sticking out of your pocket.”

“So?” he answers simply, and you pause, brain buffering for a moment.

“So?”

“Yeah. No one knows it’s your underwear but you and me,” he points out as you reach his bedroom door. He swings it open and gestures for you to enter first, head dipping down to your ear as you pass by. “So it’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” you mumble, thinking it over. “Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says encouragingly, guiding you to his bed and gesturing for you to sit down. “Now, what do you want to watch?”

“Uh, we can watch Family Guy,” you suggest, and he looks at you, pleasant surprise written on his handsome features, before he nods and picks up the TV remote.

“Good choice,” he praises, sitting down beside you against the headboard of his bed. “Perfect show to play in the background while we make out.”

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise, and he snorts, eyes fond as he scans your bashful demeanor.

“I’m kidding.” he assures you, and you can’t help but frown slightly. Unfortunately for you, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan, and he chuckles. “You wanted to make out, didn’t you?”

“A little bit,” you mumble, and he grins, leaning in closer to you.

“That can be arranged.” he murmurs, still smiling as his lips meet yours.

[fastandcarlos]

"She's In Labour...Now?" : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: it wasn't supposed to happen yet, especially with max preparing for a race...

Your body froze, hand coming down to the side of your bump as yet again you felt a stab of pain against your side, struggling to keep yourself balanced. A heavy breath came from you as Sophie’s eyes glanced to your side, immediately moving closer to you. 

Your eyes shut in horror as another twang of pain arrived, leaning against anything that you could find to try and support yourself. Sophie’s hand landed on your back as she watched you, her eyes full of concern. 

“Everything alright?” She asked, although she already knew the answer to the question. “You don’t think you’re going into labour...do you?” 

Your shoulders shrugged, feeling your heart begin to race. “I don’t know, I hope not, Max is about to race any second and I need to be there to watch him.” 

Sophie’s head shook as you spoke, knowing that Max didn’t need to be your priority right now. Before you could argue she had a member of Max’s team rushing around the garage to try and find you, not giving you the chance to protest and assure her that you were fine. 

In a matter of moments Max’s figure came sprinting through the garage, his eyes searching for you. Sophie waved over to him, standing to one side as soon as Max arrived at your side, his arm moving around you to try and support you. 

“Is it happening?” Max nervously asked, looking between you and his mum. 

Just like his Mum, Max didn’t need an answer, already being able to tell for himself. As you went through another stab of pain you grabbed on tightly to Max, letting go of a groan. Max quickly moved to hold you tighter, keeping you against his chest. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, kissing against the top of your head. “I’m right here with you, I’m not going anywhere,” he added, feeling your eyes glance up at him. 

Your head shook as you tried to step away from Max, but he was far too strong. He kept his hold despite how hard you tried to wriggle out, quickly remembering where you were and what he was supposed to be doing. 

“You can’t be here,” you murmured, “you need to be getting ready to race, you’re on pole, you can’t lose such valuable points Max.” 

“Do you really think I’d leave you right now, like this?” He asked you. 

You immediately felt guilty as Max asked a member of the team to come over, informing them to pass onto Christian that the reserve driver would need to step in for the race. 

“The team aren’t going to be happy,” one of the PR team told him in reply, scratching over the top of their head, “but I guess given the circumstances they’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll put out a statement and tell everyone that you’re feeling unwell as the reason you’re not there.” 

You looked to Max once more, eyes pleading with him. “We don’t know for sure whether I’m in labour yet, why don’t you at least race? It’s only a couple of hours, I’ll be alright.” 

He didn’t even bother listening to you, his mind was well and truly made up and you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise. Max didn’t want to miss a thing, and he certainly didn’t want to not be by your side whilst you were in pain too, regardless of whether you were in labour or not. 

Everyone else went to carry on prepping for the race, with you and Max left alone after his mum told you that she’d head off to go and get your things. “I’m not willing to risk anything,” Max whispered, holding onto you as you began to walk over to the car park. “We’re going to the hospital whether you like it or not, I’d rather be safe than sorry.” 

You smiled weakly across at Max; his eyes filled with concern. “I’m not due for another three weeks Max, let’s just wait and see how the next hour goes, it might be nothing.” 

“But it could be something,” he corrected, still full of worry. Max was proven to be right as after taking a couple of steps you felt a pain that you couldn’t describe course over your bump, leaving you doubled over, biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself screaming. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, relying on Max to keep you from falling. Your eyes screwed tightly shut, breathing as well as you could to try and ride out the pain. It took a few moments, but just as it passed, another stabbing pain hit your bump. 

Call it father’s instincts, but Max knew in that moment what was happening. He called for his car to be brought over as soon as it could be, wrapping his arms around you so that he could carry you, doing anything that he could to make life a little easier for you. 

Your arms wrapped around Max’s neck, allowing him to scoop you up. “Turns out, you might’ve been right,” you joked, feeling Max’s eyes glance down at you, as if he knew all along. 

“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about getting you to hospital now.” 

The car barely stopped before Max opened the passenger door and sat you in, buckling your belt. The valet passed him the keys as his mum arrived, passing your bags over to Max before shouting that she’d catch you up. Max quickly climbed into the car, putting his foot on the accelerator as fast as he could. 

“Turns out I’m in a different race now, the race with all this traffic.” 

“I’d like to get to the hospital in one piece,” you laughed, struggling to get yourself comfortable in your seat as Max drove as quickly as he could, weaving around the cars on the road that were queueing to get into the paddock and see the race, “and I think our child would also vouch for that too.” 

“I’m not driving like a maniac,” Max told you, but even he was a little doubtful. “Well, maybe I am a tad, but I think I can be forgiven considering the circumstances.” 

His eyes were only half on the road, with Max watching over to you too every time a contraction greeted you. Each one made his heart race, filled with him with nerves as you assured him that you were alright, even though you were far from it. 

It wasn’t exactly how you planned your day, ready to sit and relax whilst watching Max, struggling to believe what was about to happen. 

“I'm so proud of you,” Max whispered as he noticed you staring out of the window. "I don’t quite know what’s about to happen, and if I’m honest, I’m terrified, but one thing I know is that I’m going to be so in awe of you.” 

You smiled weakly back across at Max, “however scared you’re feeling right now, double it and you might feel as scared as I do. But the one thing that I know is that you’re there for me, so that means I’m going to be alright.” 

“I won’t let anything bad happen,” Max promised you, matching your smile. “I’m not going to leave you alone for a second, no matter what it takes.” 

Neither of you quite knew how the next few hours were going to unfold, but as a team, you knew you were going to be alright. The race was soon forgotten as the two of you looked to the future and the thrill of knowing that your first meeting with your daughter was right around the corner. 

“Can you believe we’re about to be parents?” Max smiled across at you. 

“I don’t think it’ll ever truly sink in.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[secondbeatsongs]

as a bi person, the bisexual flag brings me infinite joy and always puts a smile on my face, however as a person who has a Passion for Graphic Design, that undersaturated shade of purple infuriates me when it's used digitally

like, on an actual flag - which was its original purpose - it looks great!

those look fine! lovely, even! with the semi-transparent fabric, the way it catches the sunlight, it looks beautiful!

but now look at how it looks digitally

the pink and blue are so vibrant compared to the sad, lonely lavender!

and let's look at this statement from Michael Page, the creator of the bi flag:

(sidenote: he created this flag in 1998, so if his takes on bisexuality is different from yours, it's okay to notice that! a lot has changed since the 90s when it comes to lived experiences and the way we describe them. but, it's also important to respect his thoughts about this and the way he presented them, even if today, we'd probably not say that bi people "blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities.")

so in pantone colors, the pink is 226 C, the blue is 286 C, and the purple of the flag is 258 C.

but...here's the deal

Michael talks here about how the key to understanding the symbolism is to know that the purple blends into both the pink and blue. and on a physical flag, I think you can see that!

but digitally, it absolutely does not blend. it clashes badly, and looks oddly separate from the other two colors.

which got me wondering...what purple do you get if you actually blend 226 C and 286 C?

oh! oh, my god.

look at that! look at how nicely it fits between those colors!

look at it next to the original color scheme! look at how much more vibrant the purple is!

and friends. this is just blending through rgb! you get even more purple variations when you use other color spaces!

let's compare all of them:

(top: original, lab. middle: lrgb, lch. bottom: rgb, hsl)

look at all of the different purple options you can get just by combining these two colors!

if you want almost too-vibrant saturation, you can go hsl, if you want something more relaxed that's closer to the original, you can go lab or lrgb. and if you want to split the difference, lch is bright and violet, while rgb is there with its saturated but darker purple.

anyway, I guess I don't really have a point here? this isn't so much an informational post as it is Me Getting Weird About Colors, but I think it is a useful lesson about how colors look very different on screens compared to how they look on objects in real life.

and sometimes, I think it's okay to compensate for that.

out of all of these, this is my favorite bi flag:

it's the one where the colors were blended in lab color space. for me, the lighter, softer purple is close enough to the original bi flag purple, while also feeling like a smoother blend of the blue and pink

but that's just me! and it might not even look the same to you, since every screen is different, because technology is a nightmare!

anyway, thank you for coming with me on this colorful journey! I will now retreat back to inkscape and make pained sounds about inkstitch gradients until something tangible pulls me back into reality

[lubdubology]

Til The Sun Turns Black

SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.

The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV.  You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it. 

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”

You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops. 

“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”

His words sound insane. 

You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?

“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”

You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.

“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”

The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull. 

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload. 

“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”

Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.

“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.

You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you. 

“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”

“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice. 

The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile. 

+++

The Void was bullshit. 

It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here. 

Maybe. 

You weren’t really sure.  

Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying. 

You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in. 

Figure out a way back to him. 

Back home. 

+++

You don’t venture out unless you have to. 

The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.

There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.

Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam. 

Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there. 

Just in case. 

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere. 

Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly. 

The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count. 

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain. 

Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction. 

“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight. 

You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?” 

You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—” 

The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form. 

You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.” 

Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you. 

Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”

For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air. 

You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint. 

Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”

His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic. 

You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue. 

“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”

His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”

Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air. 

The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield. 

For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp. 

Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight. 

His silent encouragement is enough. 

You are not dying in the fucking Void. 

Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm. 

The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black. 

The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you. 

+++

You wake up in the cache. 

Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat. 

A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”

Logan. 

You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse. 

Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.” 

You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion. 

Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating. 

“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his. 

“I’m a temporal nomad.”

Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism. 

You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”

“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”

Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”

Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness. 

“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists. 

“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”

His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”

“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”

“Stop!”

“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.” 

Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low. 

His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough. 

“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry. 

Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.

+++

You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone. 

But you can’t think about it. 

Not now. 

Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours. 

Logan. 

The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally. 

For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.” 

There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”

“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”

He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you. 

“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”

Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”

You hate how your voice breaks just a little.

Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.

He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here. 

“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”

Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”

“And can you?”

His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.

Logan growls. “No.”

“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”

“I left him tied up in the van.”

You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into. 

Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space. 

“You’ve been living here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”

Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

+++

You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.

You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.

Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.

“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”

Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.

You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.

“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”

Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.

You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests. 

As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes. 

“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”

You could never deny him in any universe.

The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.

As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.

+++

When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up. 

The cabin is empty.

You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine. 

Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.

You don’t mention last night.

“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”

Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”

“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.

You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe. 

“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope. 

Logan huffs. “Probably not.” 

“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”

A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”

There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to. 

“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly. 

His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.” 

+++

You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.

Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”

He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.

“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.

“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.” 

You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on. 

A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself. 

Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.

You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”

Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. 

“Really Logan?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting. 

“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him. 

Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”

You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick. 

Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”

You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.

“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.

“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies. 

Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her. 

Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.

You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”

When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.

“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.

Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.

Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.

You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”

“I can help you, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”

As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides. 

+++

Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”

You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice. 

“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips. 

You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”

Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."

With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”

“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”

Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”

“His mutant dick that good, huh?”

You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”

“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”

Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.” 

“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”

You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”

“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door.

+++

You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead. 

The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.

As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.

You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”

You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.

“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle. 

“Enough,” you answer simply.

Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly. 

Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”

“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?” 

Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”

“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”

You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly. 

“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls. 

Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you. 

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before. 

“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom. 

Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits. 

A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself. 

You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him. 

The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind. 

You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.  

Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.

+++

Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one. 

You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating. 

You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it. 

“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.” 

Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear. 

“I am your home,” you reply softly. 

Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate. 

You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer. 

It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air. 

A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours. 

“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”

He nods once and that’s all you need. 

+++

The morning comes quicker than anyone would like. 

Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.

He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”

You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”

Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion. 

The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth. 

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”

You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.

Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage. 

The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.

A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement. 

You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”

“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”

Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws. 

She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”

And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole. 

You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”. 

“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”

Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”

You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain. 

You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.

Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.

“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”

You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”

Cassandra’s face contorts then and…

She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head. 

Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.

“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”

Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue. 

“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.

Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”

You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.

Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”

You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain. 

Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”

Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”

You nod, “Yes.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”

Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”

You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders. 

Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.

“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”

Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.

And then, darkness consumes all.

+++

You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.

Cassandra is gone.

Wade is gone.

And Logan—Logan is gone.

You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”

You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it. 

Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.

You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”

Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.

“Welcome home.”

+++

You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants. 

You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him. 

Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.

“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“

“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours. 

From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“

You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”

“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws. 

“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”

Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful. 

His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep. 

Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel. 

There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.

A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh. 

Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”

“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”

Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes. 

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you. 

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction. 

His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips. 

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”

His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers. 

Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming. 

He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly. 

“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest. 

Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”

You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready. 

“I will never get tired of looking at you,” you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”

Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements. 

“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock. 

“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation. 

Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.

His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”

You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan. 

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.” 

You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”

It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest. 

Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair. 

A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you. 

“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”

You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back. 

His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck. 

Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”

You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 

He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake. 

Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs. 

“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you. 

“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you. 

Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full. 

You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart. 

“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours. 

“Yes.”

“Even this one?”

“Especially this one.” 

You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him. 

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　THE FARRAR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IS ALIVE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: When Sam and Colby bring the Sturniolo Triplets and Y/N, a medium and Matt's girlfriend, to investigate the Farrar Elementary School, they expect only to discover more about its history, but, instead, meet something far darker.

WARNING: Demon apparition, ghost talk, paranormal experiences.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This can be read as a part 2 of my work 'Medium Girl' with Matt Sturniolo.

A/N³: Happy Halloween, guys! 🩷

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The lightheartedness grew inside the vast gym when Sam, Colby, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N stepped inside of it. The eerie silence of the halls felt distant now, replaced by the echoing laughter and jokes bouncing off the gym's high walls. It was open, empty, and slightly less oppressive than the narrow corridors they'd been walking through. Their cameras' flashlights created stark beams that cut through the heavy dark, bouncing playfully as they pointed at the distant walls and items scattered across the yellowish floor.

"That is terrifying." Chris joked, pointing to a shadowy open doorway at the far end of the gym. His tone was playful, but the door itself seemed to swallow the light, almost absorbing it into an impenetrable black void.

Colby quickly looked over at Chris with a knowing expression, pointing the camera lans at him.

"That is the Boiler Room." He said in a tone both informative and slightly excited.

"That's not an inviting room at all whatsoever." Chris muttered, laughing, his voice betraying more nervous excitement than genuine fear.

As the group chuckled and commented about it, inching forward, Y/N’s laughter faded as her gaze locked onto the entrance. She felt a wave of something cold and clammy wrap around her, more powerful than the draft in the building.

Being a medium, she was no stranger to spiritual energy, but this... this felt different.

Her chest tightened as chills skittered up her spine, her heart hammering faster the longer she stared into the doorway. The energy was thick, almost tangible, pressing down on her like a weight. It was dark, heavy, and so deeply embedded in the space that she could almost taste it on the air; a mix of anger, pain, and a bitterness that sent icy needles racing through her veins.

Matt, standing near her since the moment they entered the school, quickly noticed her shift in demeanor, his brows knitted in concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze from the doorway to look at him, finding comfort in the middle of ocean blue eyes.

"Yeah... Yeah, there’s just... something wrong in there." She murmured, her voice tight. "It doesn’t feel right."

Colby, overhearing, chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, it’s messed up in there." He admitted, shrugging. "We've been in there once before, but if any of you guys want to go, take the camera and look around."

The words hung heavily in the air, a silent challenge.

Nick and Chris immediately pointed at Matt. They both stepped back, dramatically widening their arms to clear a path to the door, their mischievous smirks only amplifying the tension.

"I mean, we all know who the bravest ones here are." Sam teased from behind them, laughing after receiving an "obviously" look from Nick.

Matt flashed a wide, determined grin, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a spark of excitement. After The Driskell Hotel, he discovered that he loved the thrill of these investigations, and with Y/N there, he almost felt invincible. Y/N’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and anticipation, but she forced herself to shrug, flashing a nonchalant smile in return.

"Guess we’re doing this." She said, her voice more confident than she felt.

Matt took the camera from Colby, giving a quick smirk to the others.

"I feel like there can’t be anything." He joked, his voice steady, earning whoops and cheers from the guys. Together, he and Y/N led the way, with Chris and Nick following close behind.

As they stepped through the doorway into the Boiler Room, the energy shifted drastically. The air was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to their skin like invisible cobwebs. The once-bright beams of the camera’s flashlight seemed to dim as if the darkness here was absorbing the light itself, drinking it up and leaving nothing but a faint glow around them.

Every step Y/N took felt like wading through tar. Her limbs grew heavy, and with each inhale, it was as though she was breathing in the sorrow, anger, and fear that had seeped into the very concrete walls of the room. Her skin prickled, her head was starting to hurt, and a low hum of energy reverberated through her bones, vibrating up her spine and making her feel unsteady on her feet. Matt was ahead, filming with an almost oblivious bravery, but her steps slowed as they entered deeper into the room.

Pain. A pulse of it shot through her, raw and piercing, making her gasp and clench her hands by her sides as if she could wring it out of her body, her heartbeat echoing on her ears. She tried to keep her expression steady, not wanting to alarm the others, but Matt glanced over his shoulder at her, noticing her pale face and furrowed brow.

She shook her head at his questioning eyes, letting him keep walking ahead of her, allowing him, Chris, and Nick to venture toward the back of the room, where another open doorway beckoned, leading into an even darker, more enclosed space.

"Oh my God, it's bigger than I thought-" Matt started excitedly, being interrupted by a scared Nick.

"Matt! Don't say 'Oh my God' like that!"

Y/N stayed close to the entrance, her gaze fixed on the doorway ahead, the corner of her lips lifting slightly with the brother’s bickering. Something felt profoundly wrong in there, and every instinct in her body screamed for her to turn back, to leave the darkness to its own devices.

She took a step forward right after Chris, but the energy hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled, her legs unsteady as she caught herself against the doorframe. Noticing her falter, Chris immediately turned, his concern flaring.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, you okay?" He asked, reaching to steady her, his hand grasping her arm. But Y/N didn’t hear him, nor did she feel his touch. She was already slipping away, pulled into a vision so intense it drowned out reality.

She was now surrounded by towering flames that crackled with a furious intensity. They licked up the walls around her, swallowing everything in a bright, blistering heat. Through the blaze, a young woman appeared, engulfed in flames, her face twisted in agonizing terror. The woman’s scream sliced through the air; a raw, primal sound unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. Instinctively, her hands flew up to her ears, desperately trying to block out the agonizing cry. It was a cry of pure pain and desperation, the kind that lingered, sinking into the skin and soul.

Then, she saw him. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows behind the woman, his face obscured by the darkness but his presence unmistakably menacing. He loomed over her, radiating a sick, cold satisfaction as the woman screamed, flames rising higher around them. Y/N could feel it, all the malice rolling off the man, thick and suffocating, causing her to gulp, her eyes widening in terror when the man's eyes flickered from the woman to hers.

He couldn't see her, could he?

As the flickering of a lightning, three distinct figures appeared behind the man before vanishing completely, and just as suddenly as it began, the vision ended, leaving Y/N cold, breathless, and disoriented, the horrifying images imprinted in her mind.

Her surroundings snapped back into focus, the dimly lit Boiler Room reappearing around her in hazy fragments. She gasped, struggling to ground herself, her eyes searching around the room frantically, but as her vision cleared, her stomach twisted with a sickening dread. There, in the center of the second room, right in between the other two doorways, crouched a figure that defied anything she’d ever encountered, even in her darkest visions.

This wasn’t a spirit; she could feel the difference. The creature hunched low, its bony hands splayed across the grimy floor, its body twisted and contorted, as if barely contained within the physical plane. Shadows clung to its grotesque form, an aura of darkness so thick it devoured any light that dared come near. Its mottled skin was stretched and scarred, warped with unnatural shapes, as though stitched together from nightmares.

And then, she saw its eyes; deep, glowing red, like embers of molten rage, burning into her with a cruel, penetrating awareness. Those eyes locked onto her, narrowing with a sinister recognition. It knew she could see it, sense it, and understand the threat it posed. The fury in its gaze was suffocating, an anger so intense it filled the room, pressing down on her, trapping her in place.

Before she could gather herself, a voice oozed into her mind, cold and sharp as a dagger, each word dripping with malice. "Don’t tell anyone."

The command reverberated through her skull, a dark echo that chilled her to her core. She felt her heart hammering, her pulse quickening as a frigid terror clawed its way up her spine. The demon remained crouched, but its body tensed, coiled like a predator about to strike.

A whimper scaped from Y/N's throat when it began to inch forward, its gaze never wavering, as if relishing the fear it instilled with each calculated, crawling step.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was distant, but it cut through the fog of terror consuming her. She couldn’t respond, frozen in place as the demon drew nearer, dragging itself across the dirty ground, echoing with a disgusting sound of skin pressing against pebbles, her mind trapped in the paralyzing scene.

"What's happening? Why is she looking like that?" Chris's voice sounded muffled, dripping with anxiety, worry, and fear, his hand still holding her arms.

"Baby?" This time, Matt’s voice was sharper, laced with urgency. She felt a shift as he tossed the camera to Nick, then rushed to her side. His presence was solid, grounding, and he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close as he tried to get her attention while shielding her from whatever it was that she was seeing. "Hey, babe, are you okay? What’s wrong?"

She could barely hear him, his words muffled, distant. Her legs wobbled, feeling like they might give out at any second, and Matt held her tighter, his warmth battling the unnatural chill that had invaded her body, her skin feeling as cold as the winter.

"Y/N, hey, look at me. Can you hear me?" His tone was steady, doing a great job at hiding the extreme fear that he felt, his hands cradling her face as he searched her eyes for any sign of recognition.

But she couldn’t answer, couldn’t focus. The demon’s furious glare was seared into her vision, its whispered threat echoing in her mind as a thick, oppressive darkness continued to drag her deeper into its depths.

Matt drew a sharp breath, his grip tightening around Y/N as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers.

"We need to get out of here. Now." His tone was rough, leaving no room for argument.

The severity in his voice snapped them out of their stunned state, and they exchanged a quick look before following the couple to the exit door of the Boiler Room. Their footsteps echoed, tense and hurried, with Nick and Chris casting anxious glances behind them as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had gripped Y/N so tightly, Chris's hand searching desperately for Nick's arm, trying to find comfort.

As they stepped outside the oppressive confines of the room, an almost immediate sense of relief washed over them. The chill that had settled into Y/N’s bones began to ease, and her tense posture softened as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted. She inhaled deeply, her body leaning heavily into Matt’s, letting his steady presence anchor her back to reality. Her scared eyes moved frantically, searching over her shoulders as if waiting for it to follow them, but she only met darkness.

"Shh, you're okay now. I'm right here with you." Matt kept whispered sweet nothings against Y/N's head, gently forcing her to look away from the room, pressing her face against his own shoulder, her hair tickling his chin in a comforting way.

Sam and Colby, who had been standing by, initially cheered at their bravery but quickly went quiet when they noticed the disturbed expressions on everyone’s faces.

Sam stepped forward, worry etched across his features.

"Hey, you guys okay?" He asked, his tone low and concerned.

Matt opened his mouth, his protective instincts kicking in while his arms seemed to wrap around Y/N's body tighter.

"We should give her a second. She just needs a bit to calm down-"

"No." Y/N interrupted, her voice weak but firm. She shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes as she steadied herself, her cold hands finding his biceps, squeezing his hoodie-covered skin in reassurance. "They have to know."

Colby nodded, quickly understanding the weight of what she was about to say. He took the camera from Nick, aiming it at her as he stepped closer, Sam following behind.

Chris and Nick quickly gathered around the couple, assuming protective instances, waiting, their faces a mixture of curiosity and seriousness as Y/N prepared to explain, eyes frantically looking behind their backs every second, the feeling of being watched seeming to grow more intense.

"I... I saw something." She began, her voice a touch unsteady but gathering strength as she continued. "When I looked at that room, there was this... this intense heat, and suddenly, it was like I was somewhere else entirely. I saw flames, a massive fire that seemed to consume everything around it. And in the middle of it all was a young woman, burning alive."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she closed her eyes, trying to shake the haunting image that had imprinted itself in her mind. A warm spread around her left shoulder, and she quickly recognized Nick's comforting touch.

"She was screaming, and it wasn’t like any scream I’ve ever heard before." Y/N continued, her face pale as she relived the vision. "It was pure agony... and then, there was a man behind her, just standing there, watching her burn. He was tall, menacing, and I knew, somehow, that he was the one who did this to her. He for sure worked here back in the day, I just knew it, and he killed her, and he was enjoying it." She paused, her voice barely a whisper. "And then, right before the vision ended, I saw three male figures behind him. I thought it was over, but when I looked up, there was something else in the room with us."

"The janitor, the principal, and the librarian." Sam muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes meeting Colby's dark ones, which held the same realization look.

The rest of the group was silent, hanging onto every word as Y/N’s gaze darkened, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance, Matt's firm hands around her hips keeping her grounded.

"It was a very dark creature, obviously a demon." She whispered. "Big, twisted, and so... so angry. Its skin was... I can’t even describe it. It was unnatural, almost as if it was pulled together from different things, and its eyes... they were red, glowing, and it was looking right at me." Her voice wavered as she continued, a tremor of fear slipping through. "It knew I could see it, and it was furious. And then... I heard a voice. In my head. It told me that I couldn't tell you about it."

A shiver ran through the group, everyone exchanging wary glances, trying to process the weight of what she was saying. Y/N took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to meet theirs.

"It started coming toward me, crawling like a snake, and that’s when Matt got to me. But... the warning felt like more than just a threat. It’s like it didn’t want us to have this information. It didn’t want us to know what happened here... This is all way darker than you guys expected."

Colby, his brow furrowed in thought, broke the silence.

"Wait, why wouldn’t it want us to know?"

Y/N hesitated, piecing together the fragments of knowledge she had gathered over years of honing her abilities.

"When it comes to entities like this, especially ones tied to a place or a tragedy... they draw power from secrecy, from fear. If we know what it is, what it’s done, it gives us the upper hand. And even more so if we learn its name."

Sam’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him as his gaze traveled from her to Colby and then back again.

"So, if we know its name, it becomes weaker?"

Y/N nodded slowly.

"Yes. Kind of. Names are powerful, especially with entities like that. It’s a way of binding it, of taking control. And right now, it knows we’re at an advantage. I just... I just have to figure out its name."

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader

As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!

Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’

[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]

There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”

“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”

“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.

The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.

“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”

“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”

His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.

“Perfect match.”

“Excuse me?”

He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.

Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.

“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”

The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.

A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.

“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.

The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.

“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.

“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”

A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.

“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.

“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”

Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.

“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.

He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.

“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”

For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.

“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”

“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.

You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:

“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”

Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.

“Who’s a buffoon?”

The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.

“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.

“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”

As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:

“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”

“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”

“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”

Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead. 

“You wanna come in with me then?” 

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him. 

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face. 

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to. 

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.  

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. 

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you. 

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last. 

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed. 

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. 

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat. 

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm. 

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin. 

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly. 

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker. 

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose). 

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.” 

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel. 

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze. 

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.” 

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.  

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.  

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun. 

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled. 

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful. 

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting. 

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.” 

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned. 

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.” 

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly. 

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear. 

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!” 

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage. 

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue. 

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure. 

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose. 

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face. 

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.  

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up. 

“Easy, T–” Boone said. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.   

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.  

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone. 

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him. 

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word. 

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more. 

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin. 

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.  

You felt grateful when they didn’t push. 

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation. 

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat. 

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you. 

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.  

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?” 

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted. 

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes. 

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word. 

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out. 

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour. 

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.  

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name. 

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines. 

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you. 

“Better?” he asked, handing you one. 

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak. 

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight. 

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.  

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter. 

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–” 

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.” 

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt. 

“I’m the sorry one,” he said. 

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you. 

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth. 

“I just–” you paused again. “I–” 

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.” 

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened. 

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off. 

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?” 

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked. 

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said. 

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked. 

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly. 

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

[cherubcameron]

Part one

Rafe had been calling you extensively. To the point, where you had to have do not disturb on. You didn’t have it in you yet to block him. You forgot he also knew where you lived.

“You know we could have done this the easy way. Now we’re going to have to do the hard way.” He said, once you opened the door. You didn’t even have time to run, he had grabbed you forcefully. You screamed.

“Shhh, baby shh.”

You knew he had erratic behavior. He just hadn’t ever displayed it before to you.

“Rafe! Rafe! Put me down!”

“Rafe, dude. Come on, is this really necessary?”Topper says, watching his friend manhandle you.

“Shut the fuck up, Top!” Rafe says. “Help me get her in the car.”

“No! Get off!” You scream, you’re scratching at his arms and he winces in pain.

“Ow! Stop that!”

You manage to pull away from his strong hold.

“Enough Rafe, you can’t force me to go anywhere with you. This counts as kidnapping, ya know!”

He tries to grab you again but Topper gets inbetween.

“Do you really want to get in my way, Topper?” Rafe says, his eyes are on you though.

“Dude, this is not the way. You told me we came here so you could talk to her. Not force her to go somewhere against her will.”

Rafe begins to cry as he sees you flinch back. He doesn’t even care that Topper can see.

“Let her go, dude.” Topper says gently. You never would have guessed, Topper to be the voice of reason. But here he was.

“No! Fuck you, Topper. Please baby, please! I promise. I promise I’ll get clean. I haven’t even touched coke in weeks. Tell her Top. Tell her!”

You can tell he’s lying through his teeth. His jaw is swinging. And he keeps wiping away at his nose. His eyes are red from the tears.

“Baby, please.”

“I’m not your baby anymore.” You finally say.

“No.” He cries. “No don’t say shit like that. You’re breaking my heart baby. I fucked up, I know that. But you don’t have to punish me for it. Please. The coke will go away. The parties. I’ll change my lifestyle. I’ll be different.” He pauses. “I’ll be a different Rafe. Clean Rafe. Good Rafe. Country club Rafe. No drugs. No alcohol.”

He’s hitting his head with his hand as he says each word. A part of you aches to go to him to make him stop.

But you can tell he’s bluffing. You know he’ll do it sneakily.

“Rafe, you don’t know how to. That is your life. Until you’re serious—.” You try to speak but he cuts you off abruptly.

“I am serious! Tell her Topper. Fucking tell her! I stopped it all.”

You begin to cry, scared of the boy you’re looking at. Scared of whose he’s become. This wasn’t your Rafe.

“Come on, man. You’re scaring her. Let’s just go, okay—“

“Shut up Topper! Why can’t you shut up! You’re not helping me!”

He finally manages to get around Topper. His arms are around you again, he hiccups from the tears he’s crying.

“Princess, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll get on my knees. Please, don’t leave me. I love you. I love you.”

Kelce shows up out of nowhere. You don’t even realized he’s pulled up.

“That’s enough Rafe. Come on man. Let her be.” Both boys grab Rafe, freeing you from his grip.

“No! Please, no! I need her! I fucking need her.”

Grim faces are present on both boys faces.

“We know man. Just come on.”

Once they get him away, you crumble to the ground. Sobs breaking out of you.

“Hey! Is everything okay? We heard screaming.” Your old elderly neighbor asks. She’s a sweet old lady, who gardens when she can. You’ve helped her out a few times.

“Why don’t you come in. I’ve made some pie. I think you’ll like it.”

You manage to get up and follow her in. She gives you a sad smile.

“I’m sorry for the screaming.” You say meekly.

“Don’t ever apologize for another persons actions. Especially not a boy who doesn’t know when no means no. You’re so much stronger than that. I know it. I’ve known you since you were four. You’ve always been a fierce girl. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you.” Her hand is on your shoulder. Gentle. Unlike Rafes iron clad grip. You almost burst out crying again.

“Come on, let’s enjoy some pie.”

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through. 

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.  

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest. 

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes. 

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’. 

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him. 

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain. 

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death. 

David Rossi 

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?” 

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close. 

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded. 

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it. 

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.” 

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up. 

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force. 

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is. 

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened. 

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance. 

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat. 

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you. 

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.” 

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him. 

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it. 

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public. 

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do. 

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this. 

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her. 

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable. 

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected. 

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it. 

JJ

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace. 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it. 

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest. 

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir. 

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”   

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed. 

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia 

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly. 

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment. 

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home. 

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you. 

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building. 

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.” 

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him. 

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep. 

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing. 

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case. 

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him. 

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in. 

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby. 

Masterlist

[hottiesforhockey]

no nut november ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader genre: romance ⎜smut ⎜angst? warnings: no nut november ⎜teasing ⎜ mentions of a bet/deal ⎜mention of sharing sex life ⎜fingering ⎜light dirty talk ⎜quinn second guessing his life choices ⎜ masturbation ⎜finger sucking ⎜insecure reader⎜hints at breaking up ⎜p in v ⎜ swearing ⎜praise ⎜no protection (please wrap it before you tap it)⎜ synopsis: quinn makes a deal with his brothers - he never realised how hard this would be for the both of you. word count: 3.8k authors note:  Quinn was the clear winner of my poll to decide who would star in this fic - so I hope all 39.6% of you enjoy. do we want a sequel? called dicked down december

(unedited)

DAY ONE

Quinn was only one day in and he already knew he wasn’t going to make it through the month. He knew now that he should’ve never let Jack drag him into the deal that most of the New Jersey Devils participated in every year - the winner coming out with a donation to the charity of their choice and the ability to pronounce themselves as “not whipped” by their girlfriends. 

But Quinn was very much whipped. 

Your whip was so tight around him, he could barely breathe as he watched you wander around the house in just your towel, grabbing your clothes fresh out of the dryer for the game later today. Quinn’s fingers twitched at his sides, as he resists the urge to reach out for you - knowing the only way he was going to get through this month was going to be by avoiding touching you at any and all costs. He wanted nothing more than to abandon this ridiculous bet and wrap his arms around you, pulling that towel away inch by inch. Every day, this month-long challenge to abstain from any intimate contact with you felt like it was going to kill him.

He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching as you glanced over your shoulder and flashed him a teasing smile. You knew exactly what you were doing to him - you had to know. 

But how did you know? He certainly didn’t tell you, and he made his brothers swear to secrecy. 

Quinn's gaze was glued to you, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his eyes. He tried to focus on anything else, on his suit laid out on the bed, or on his phone buzzing in his sweatpants pocket. Anything but the sway of your hips as you walk down the hallway - or the hinting smile you send him as you reach the doorway to the bedroom, inviting him to follow you. 

The sight of you, so effortless and beautiful, had his mind completely tangled.

"You okay there, babe?” you asked, clearly confused by his discomfort and unwillingness to trail behind you. He nods his head with a tight smile as you shrug and disappear from sight, Quinn letting out a long groan as he rubs his hands down his face - cursing his brothers in his mind for what they are doing to him. 

“One day down” he whispers, exhaling slowly. “Only twenty-nine more to go.”

+

+

DAY FIFTEEN

“One of you two must’ve told her something.” Quinn sneers at his phone. 

“We didn’t tell her anything, I swear on my life.” Luke retorts, making the sound of Jack’s laughter ring even louder in his ear, as Quinn waves goodbye to some of his teammates leaving the rink after practice - Quinn’s frown deepens as Jack tries to compose himself, only to laugh even harder as soon as he calms down. 

“Maybe she figured it out on her own.” Jack suggests one his laughing finally dies down, a few chuckles spilling out before he lets out a grunt of pain, presumably caused by the youngest of the brothers. 

“Well she knows something - she’s never been like this before.” Quinn sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, a habit that’s becoming far more common since the month began. “She’s ravenous, any chance she gets she’s trying to take my pants off.” Quinn’s words set his younger brother off again. 

“Look we promise we didn’t say anything to her - but maybe you should.” Luke suggests softly, the sound of Jack’s laugh quieting in the background as Quinn assumes his youngest brother walks away from the noise. “I’m sure she’d try to take things easier on you if you told her what you were doing - it’s for charity.” Luke voice is hopeful but Quinn knows that he’s wrong - his girlfriend would rather sell her soul then help him win a bet with his idiot brothers. 

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” Quinn says into the phone before hanging up not waiting for his brother to respond. Quinn makes his short journey home - his apartment only a five minute drive from the arena, the apartment almost silent when he walks through the door - Quinn surprised not to see you perched on the couch like you usually are. 

The small muffled whimper coming from down the hall catching him even more by surprise. 

“Babe?” He calls out into the apartment, sliding off his shoes at the front door, placing his keys on their hook besides the front door. He waits for a moment, another whimper cutting through the silence. Quinn takes slow, quiet steps down the hallway, your soft sounds getting louder as he reaches the closed bedroom door - the softer whisper of his name giving him pause. 

“Baby? Are you okay in there?” He calls through the door, knowing that opening the door right now might be a mistake, but he can’t help his hand turning the door handle, peeking through the small gap as the door swings open. 

Quinn can feel his mouth drop open as he watches your fingers slip inside of you so easily. Your legs falling further open against the mattress as you let out a long sigh, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Fuck.” Quinn curses under his breath as head shooting up at the interruption, your legs snapping closed your hand trapped in between them. 

“Quinn? When did you get home?” You question as your cheeks burn a bright red, pulling yourself into a sitting up position slowly sliding your hand out from between your legs - your shirt falling from where it was bunched against your waist to cover you a little more. 

Quinn opens his mouth to speak but clamps it shut against as he sees you reaching for the towel besides the bed, his body moving faster then his brain as he steps forwards, his hand clamping around your wrist as he pauses your motions, glancing down at the sheen of liquid on your fingers. Quinn smiles as you try to yank your hand from his grasp, your whole body freezing as he raises your soaked fingers to his mouth - sucking them clean, a loud hum resonating from his throat. 

“What the fuck?” You whisper as he releases your wrist, letting the hand fall limply besides you as he lunges forwards, his hand clasping either side of your head as he attaches his lips to yours - the taste of yourself still fresh in his mouth. Quinn pulls away first, his hand knotting in your hair as he pants over your, your hands desperately clinging to the sides of his shirt. 

“No, wait.” You whine as he moves to pull away, pushing the hair off your face as his eyes lock with yours. “Why are you stopping?” His thumbs stroke your cheeks gently as a small pout forms on your face, Quinn smiling as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips before pulling away from you completely. 

“I just can’t right now.”  Is all he gives you before he turns quickly and leaves the room - leaving you sitting on the mattress with burning skin and a throbbing pussy, the anger bubbling under the surface. You huff as you bed down, pulling your pyjama pants back on before marching into the living room behind your boyfriend. 

“What do you mean, you just can’t?” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch him flop onto the couch, his face pushed into the cushions as he lets out a sigh. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You ask, the room suddenly feeling colder as a shiver racks your body, your arms pulling tighter against yourself.  

“No.” Quinn groans against the pillow. 

“Really? Cause it seems like I’m the problem - Quinn I’ve been throwing myself at you and you don’t even look at me anymore.” You don’t mean for your voice to tremble when you speak but you can’t help the growing lump in your throat. “I just want you to be honest with me, if this isn’t something you want anymore.” 

Quinn’s head shoots up from the pillow - his body scrambling off the lounge to make his way to you, your body stepping away from him as you hands wipe at your face. “I’m not going to be mad if you do want to brea—” 

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence.” Quinn hisses, his hands reaching out for yours, forcing you to uncross the arms against your chest. “What on earth would make you think that I want to break up with you?” He questions, bringing your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses across your knuckles. 

“Are you kidding me?” You respond, a cold laugh leaving you before you add, “You’ve wanted nothing to do with me over the last two weeks - every time I try, you run away like you’ve been burned and not to mention you’ve been sleeping in the guest room. I never thought that I was so bad you couldn’t even share a bed with me.” Quinn flinches at the shaky breath you let out, the small hiccup as you try to hold back your tears. 

“No, it’s not like that.” 

“Then what is it, Quinn because I’m really fucking confused.” 

“Jack and Luke convinced me to—” Quinn pauses as he watches your head tilt in confusion - your mind racing a million miles an hour as he tries to figure out how to word this right, but falling short as he blurts out. “It’s because of no nut November.” 

A flicker of surprise crosses your face before a look of incredulous amusement takes over. You blink at him, as though waiting for the punchline.

“Wait, that's why you’ve been avoiding me? Because of… some dumb challenge?” You try to hold back a laugh, but a snort slips out anyway. Quinn’s cheeks flush, his gaze dropping as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

 “It’s not dumb. It’s for charity—Jack and Luke both dared me, and if I finish the month, we’re each donating a bunch of money to the children's hospital.” His voice grows defensive, though he’s clearly embarrassed. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to resist. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Both!” he bursts out, letting out a frustrated sigh as he flops back down onto the couch. “You have no idea how hard this has been… and every time I see you—” He cuts himself off, cheeks going even redder, which only makes you chuckle harder. 

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, crossing your arms. “So you’ve been turning me down, not because you’re mad at me, but because of a bet?” Quinn grimaces, looking up at you with guilt in his eyes. 

“Yes. I know it’s dumb, but I didn’t want you to feel bad. I thought I could just… tough it out without saying anything.”

You sigh, feeling a mix of relief and exasperation. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone so stupid” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing his temples. “I know. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. It’s just… Jack and Luke won’t let me hear the end of it if I quit now. They’d never let me live it down.”

You roll your eyes, moving closer to him on the couch. “Well, maybe I can make this month even harder on you,” you say, grinning as you trail a finger along his jawline.

His eyes widen, and he gulps. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. You’ve already put me through two weeks of this. You think I’m not going to make you work for it?”

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “This is going to be the longest month of my life.”

You laugh, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before taking up ridiculous bets with your brothers.”

Quinn pulls you into a hug, holding you tight. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s worth it. For the kids.”

+

+

DAY THIRTY

“I can’t take this anymore” Quinn sighs as he watches you waltz around the room in your underwear, the sunflower yellow matching set the same he had picked out earlier in the year for your birthday. You shoot him a grin over his shoulder as you pull on the mid length dress, saving Quinn from drooling over your ass for any longer. 

“It’s the last day Quinn, think of the children.” You coo, adjusting each breast to sit more comfortably in the dress, Quinn letting out a long whine as his threads his fingers through his hair pulling on the roots. 

“Fuck the kids.” He grumbles, a surprised laugh escaping you as you make your way over to him - his hands instantly grabbing hold of your hips pulling you between his legs. His forehead dipping to leans against your stomach, your fingers gently playing with the ends of his curled hair. 

“Quinn, if you can make it to midnight, then I promise it’ll be worth your while.” You promise, your hands smoothing down the back of his head and dipping under the collar of his dress shirt, rubbing soft circles against his back. “And with the jackpot combined that’s almost fifty thousand for the children’s hospital palliative care unit. That’s so special, Quinn.” 

Quinn groans, his grip tightening on your hips, as he pulls you closer. “I know, I know… you’re right.” He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes smoldering with barely contained desire. “But you’re not making it any easier for me.”

You chuckle, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Just a few more hours. Then I’m all yours.”

Quinn sighs, releasing you reluctantly, his hands sliding down your waist before finally letting go. He leans back in his chair, watching as you smooth out the dress and adjust your hair in the mirror. The way he looks at you sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation for what’s to come once this night is over.

"Fine," he relents, his voice low and gruff. "But I’m holding you to that promise."

You grin, blowing him a playful kiss before grabbing your purse and heading towards the door. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Hughes.”

As you both step out, ready to put on smiles and charm for the last fundraiser of the year, you can feel Quinn’s hand settle on the small of your back, a silent reminder of everything waiting between you once the clock strikes midnight.

Quinn could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket for most of the evening, his brothers and their teammates admitting defeat and wishing Quinn congratulations - his hand tight in yours the whole evening as he watches the clock in the corner of the room, each tick of the hour hand building his anticipation. 

“Quinn you need to actually pay attention.” You hiss in his ear, his fingers squeezing yours as the clock ticks to eleven thirty pm. 

“I’d be able to pay attention if I could think of anything other then how good it’s gonna feel when I can finally put my dick inside you again.” Quinn leans his head down, his lips pressing to your ears as he whispers - your gaze instantly shooting around to see if anyone had heard what he said. “I hope you’re not attached to that matching set, baby.” He grins as he pulls away from you, the Quinn from the past month quickly replaced by a man you hadn’t seen in a while. 

“Hey, we’re going to head off, she’s not feeling too well.” Quinn whispers to the table as the speeches conclude - his teammates immediately wishing you well, as Quinn collects your purse and coat, dragging you from the ballroom hall in haste. Quinn makes quick work of the drive home - not even glancing in your direction as he fidgets in his seat, his hand clamped against the inside of your thigh, his other hand tapping against the steering wheel as he makes his way through the streets of Vancouver. 

“Five minutes, I can do this.” He mumbles to himself, as he races around the car, pulling the door open for you, offering his hand as you slide out of the car. The two of you taking the longest journey of Quinn’s life to the apartment, the tension rising to a boil as the front door clicks shut - Quinn’s pupils blown out as he glances at the clock. 

“One minute.” He whispers, your hands making quick work of your heels as you strip them off your feet, a bright grin on your face as you tug on the hem of your dress, pulling it up inch by inch as you watch Quinn, who watches the clock. You pull the soft fabric over your head just as the clock ticks to midnight, Quinn’s eyes shooting over to yours. 

“I did it.” He says in disbelief. 

“You did it.” You confirm, leaning against the front door as you fiddle with the band on your underwear. “Now fuck me.” Quinn doesn’t waste time, his hands pushing you hard against the door as his lips capture yours, the two of your breathless in seconds, as his lips leave yours to press soft kisses down your jaw. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll last.” He admits, a groan escaping him as you run your fingers against his scalp, his lips dipping to your collarbones before making their way back up. “God, you’re just so fucking gorgeous.” He says against your skin, your hands gripping his face to pull it away from your neck for a moment. 

“Let’s make this quick then, cap.” You says as you press a chaste kiss to his lips before slipping out from between his body and the door, sprawling yourself against the couch your legs opened wide in invitation. “Clothes off.” You murmur as he stumbles over to the couch - Quinn nodding his head vigorously as he strips himself of his shirt, pausing to watch as you tug on the front clasp of your bra, the two cups springing away from each other as your breasts tumble free. 

“I think I’ve been blessed by angels.” He says as his mouth falls open a little, his fingers fumbling on the button of his pants, finally letting out a sharp curse as he yanks at the pants, his button popping off and hitting the floor with a clattering sound. “I’ll fix them later.” He says, kicking the trousers off his legs as he dives towards you on the couch. 

You let out a soft moan as Quinn attaches his lips to your left nipple, his free hand grabbing hold of the right breast as kneads it slowly, before switching sides, your legs wrapping around his waist as you whisper - “God, please.” 

��My name is Quinn, and I expect you to use it.” He retorts, a wicked grin on his face as his finger tickle their way down to the waistband of your underwear, slowly slipping them down your legs and throwing them to the side - your pussy glistening as he sits back on his heels, glancing down at you. 

“What’re you doing?” You hiss. 

“Admiring the view.” He admits, his body jolting forwards as you use your legs to tug him back down towards you. 

“Well stop admiring and put your dick in me.” Quinns hands move faster now, his lips finding their way back to yours as he fumbles to strip off his underwear, his body slotting easily against yours as his hand guides himself to your entrance. 

“It’s as perfect as I remember.” Quinn says as he slowly pushes inside, a sigh of relief leaving you at the feeling of him after thirty long days. “God, your pussy is so perfect.” He groans, his hips slowly starting to rock back and forth, your arms thrown around his neck as you hold him to you as tightly as possible - his lips pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks as you let out a quiet whine. 

“It’s made for me.” He continues, his hands finding purchase against your waist gripping tightly as his motions speed up, his thrusts heavier as he pulls himself into a kneeling position, your arms loosening around his neck grabbing hold of the cushion beneath you. 

“Quinn, shit.” You hum, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as your throw your head back, his thumb rising to your mouth, your lips softly parting as he dips it into your mouth your tongue swirling around the digit before he pulls it back out - rubbing gently against your clit. 

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Quinn moans, his thrusts becoming more erratic, your hand letting go of the cushion to grip his jaw - pulling his face down to yours. 

“It’s okay.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw before adding, “Come for me, Quinn.” His movements halt, his hands leaving you to plant above your head as he lets out a low groan, your legs holding him against your as he whispers soft praise in your ear. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He apologises as his body falls against yours, your arms wrapping around him as you chuckle into his hair, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“It’s okay.” You mumble, your fatigue already setting in as you try to yank the blanket off the back of the couch. “Let’s just stay here for a while.” Quinn humming in quick agreement as he settles against your chest, his fingers tangling with the ends of your hair as your hands rub against his bare skin. 

“We didn’t use protection.” He notes, his dick softening inside of you, the bare feeling something new for the both of you. 

“We can figure that out later.” You admit, surprised that neither of you had thought to grab a condom before leaving for the event earlier tonight.

“I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning for you.” Quinn murmurs, his words softer as his body relaxes against yours. “I’ll make this up to you.” He adds. 

“Quinn, really it’s okay… It’s been a long month for you.” You chuckle, Quinn huffing against your chest in agreement. “Well we’ve got the whole of December to make up for it.” You add, pressing one more kiss to his head before settling into your boyfriends embrace, your legs wrapped around him until the early morning, when he drags himself away from you starting the bath and pulling you away from the couch in a half asleep daze. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He whispers in your ear as he insists you go to the toilet before sliding into the enjoyably hot water, Quinn sliding into the bath behind you. 

“Thank you, for being patient with me.” He says against your skin, your body melting against his in the soapy water. 

“Just promise you won’t do it again.” 

“Deal.” 

[martiniblues]

spidey boy ; 이민형

pairing spiderman!mark x female!reader

synopsis mark has tried to hide his secret identity from you for as long as possible, to keep you safe, of course. little does he know that you’ve untangled his web of lies long ago and will do anything in your power to get him to admit it. just when you've had enough of him lying to you, he ends up getting caught in the act trying to save your life.

genre established relationship, fighting (if you squint), lots of fluff, slight violence and cat-calling, slightly suggestive, mark calls reader “my girl” and “pretty girl”.

wc 2.9k

“do you think that spiderman guy is actually as good as everyone says he is?” you ask mark, who lay peacefully in your lap as your fingers ran through his hair.

you two had been hanging out after school, as you usually do, watching random channels while you both indulged in each other's day. however, you had articulated this hangout the night prior.

a few days ago, you had aimlessly been searching through mark’s backpack in hopes of finding your calculus notes, which you had so graciously let him borrow, only to stumble upon a very familiar red and black mask balled up in the bottom.

at first, you thought mark had hit peak fangirl. he was obsessed with the superhero after all, completely drawn to the tv or newspaper whenever spiderman was mentioned, but so was every other human being in your city.

so when you began noticing how mark’s late-night appearances and “fashionably late” activities began lining up with the famous building-swinging superhero, your mind put the pieces together.

you tried to understand his point of view and why he wouldn’t reveal this very key detail about himself. it hurt you, though, feeling as though there was something in you that made him not feel comfortable enough to expose himself to you.

so, you compiled a plan to get the truth out of him organically, or as organically as this could be.

“wha… what do you mean?” your boyfriend’s head quickly snapped up, turning on his palm to face you with a questionable look knitted into his features.

a smile teasingly pulled on your lips, knowing you had hit a sore spot in his ego. how couldn’t he be proud of himself? after all, he was known as the hero of your city.

“i don’t know,” you continued, leaning back against the couch, watching your boyfriend swing from building to building on the screen in front of your bodies. “he just seems too full of himself, like cool you can swing from buildings and hang upside down, but we have police and firefighters for a reason!”

it took everything in you to not break character, slowly watching mark’s face grow red at your painful statements. he just looked at you, eyes blown wide and brows pulled so close together that you were certain he could get stuck like that.

with a small giggle, you reached out, brushing your thumb between the crease in his brows and bringing it down to caress his cheek.

“what’s with the face, baby? don’t tell me you're obsessed with him too.” his face slowly relaxed as your soft hand held his face, but his brain was still scrambling with your previous statements.

how could you find him not absolutely amazing? he could swing from buildings and hang upside down!

“you don’t think he’s cool? not even a little bit?” mark’s eyes followed yours to the screen. spiderman now being shown saving an older woman from getting mugged.

“i think he’s cool, i guess.” you looked back at your boyfriend only to find his eyes already on your face, his previous expression appearing again. “babe, you can’t be serious.” mark leaned back, feeling completely bewildered by your nonchalant attitude towards his heroic duties.

“it’s not that big of a deal."it’s not like you’re spiderman, so why should it matter if i like him or not?” you titled your head away from the screen to watch his eyes grow wide, and you could audibly hear his breath hitch.

“but…” he quickly let out before catching himself, looking at the tv to see his segment disappear. “but what?” you teased, beginning to feel bad for your ministrations.

he looked back at your face, sighing heavily. “nothing, just like the guy a bit," he said before lying back in your lap to hide his face from you.

this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

“hey baby~” mark cooed as he stepped into your apartment, takeout bags in hand. you quickly sprung up from your spot at the counter, running to hug your boyfriend after not seeing him for awhile.

after your first attempt to disclose his true identity was unsuccessful, you held off from bringing up the topic for awhile.

but you had finally decided to take a different approach this time.

“i missed you, pretty girl.” the nickname made your cheeks heat up as his cold hands held your face in front of his. he inspected you lovingly, relishing in the fact that he could finally hold you without school being in the way.

“missed you too," you replied before kissing him softly. mark dropped the plastic bag on the counter beside him, pulling you firmly against him. his lips were almost enough to make you forget about your plan.

almost.

“god, i’m hungry.” you pulled away, making him laugh at your cute antics, and he joined you on your couch to eat. as you sat, you pulled off your (mark’s) sweatshirt to reveal the key details of your plan.

mark quickly noticed the black spiderman logo displayed across your chest, at a loss for how quickly your opinion of him changed. “you like?” you asked, flaunting the red baby tee you had bought earlier that day.

“i- i thought you thought spiderman was stupid." he nearly choked on his food, trying not to blush at the image of his girl repping him like this.

“i never said he was stupid, mark. i just thought he was overhyped, but i now understand where all the love is coming from.” you looked down, ogling at your new shirt, sure of its effect on your boyfriend.

“oh…” he tried to fight the grin, trying to cover his lips, but couldn’t contain his relief. “glad you finally came around, baby.” he smiled before shoving his face with more food.

“you’re not jealous?” you asked, beginning to take on step two of your plan. “he is a guy, after all.”

this made mark actually choke on his food. “what? why would i be jealous about that?"

“i mean, your girlfriend wearing a shirt for some muscular superhero who is most definitely sickly hot under that skin tight suit he wears while saving lives." you went on swirling your fork in your food, looking up every so often to see mark’s cheeks darken at the compliments.

he held his head down, but not enough for his flushed ears and cheeks to go unoticed. “why are you so red, baby? i still like you more, you know; spiderman can’t take you away from me.” you reached over and combed your fingers through his hair to feign worry.

“that is, unless he happens to swing by and sweep me up with his insane muscles.” you winked, making your boyfriend turn into a tomato.

“yeah, you wish he would do that.” mark  joked, trying to deflate his growing pride, which you continued to boost.

“what? are you saying i’m not worthy of spiderman’s fantastic biceps picking me up and swinging me through the night sky?” mark looked at you quizzically.

you couldn’t be serious, could you?

mark discarded his food, crawling over to trap you beneath his body. "fantastic, you say... and what are these?” he made reference to his own muscular arms peeking through his fitted white tee.

"marvelous," you replied, sliding your fingers softly over your boyfriend's muscles. how lovely it was that you didn’t have to dream of spiderman’s biceps as they sat right in front of you.

“better than fantastic in my book.” mark smiled before catching your lips in his.

your spiderman shirt was soon discarded in that moment but continued to linger in mark’s head days later.

“i’m just gonna go grab a few things. i promise i won’t be long.” you stood in your doorway, attempting to run to the store to get a few things before it got too late.

mark hated this.

“why cant i just go get it or go with you?” mark wrapped his arms around you from behind, making it increasingly difficult to slide on your shoes. he kissed you all over your neck and face, held your hand, pulled at your jacket sleeves, and even attempted to block the door entirely to try and get you to stay, but you were as determined as you ever were.

“i’m a grown woman, mark. i can run down the block by myself.” you turned around in his arms, reaching for your keychain next to his head on the wall, hanging by a hook.

“it’s dangerous out there. wouldn’t want my pretty girl getting hurt.” he slouched against the wall, still holding onto your hand as your whole body nearly made it out the door.

“good thing spiderman will be there to save me from any danger.” you teased him before slamming the door in his face, preventing him from getting anymore words out. not that he could form any from your statement anyway.

as you made your way through the isles of the tiny convenience store down the block from your place, you began to notice a dark figure popping into your vision.

a man decked out in all black and wearing a dark baseball cap pulled down just enough to hide his eyes followed your trail through the store.

he just coincidentally needs the same things, plus it’s freezing outside. that’s why he’s covered up so much, you thought. you can't say much about covering up with your giant black puffer jacket nearly swallowing you whole.

as your shopping trip continued, you couldn’t help but notice the figure not picking up a single item they inspected.

how weird, you thought.

“have a nice night!” the sweet cashier bid you goodbye before you quickly made your way out of the store.

as you exited the glass doors, the figure from earlier greeted you outside. your steps increased in speed as you noticed the figure continuing to follow your path.

you: mark could you meet me outside

you: creepy dude won’t stop following me

you: dude answer the phone

you: mark come on this is serious

you huffed, knowing the figure was still following you from a distance and aggravated by mark ignoring your texts.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone at night?” the figure spoke from your side, somehow managing to come up beside you without you noticing.

you stayed silent, pretending to be interested in the cement beneath your feet.

“hey! i’m talking to you!” the voice barked, noticeably irritated by your lack of interest. “i asked you a question, bitch!” a hand grabbed your wrist tightly, stopping you in your tracks.

thinking it was the figure, your body froze seeing spiderman right in front of you. stumbling back, you watched your hero step in and fight off the creepy man, knocking him over before webbing him to the alley wall ahead.

“try and speak to her again, and you’ll get much worse than a few webs on you.” the familiar voice of your boyfriend came out deep and threatening, making your breath hitch. you had never heard him speak like that.

while the bum continued to try and yell through the webs plastered over his mouth, spiderman turned to check on you.

“everything all right? he didn’t touch you or hurt you, babe- i mean, mam?” the fumbling of words made you laugh slightly, knowing the dork under the mask.

“i’m all right, thanks to you, spiderman.” you swooned, so caught up with the fact that your own boyfriend was spiderman and that he had practically beaten and webbed a man to a wall for you.

“what could i ever do to repay you?” you asked, trying not to trip over your own feet at the way the suit hugged mark’s muscle so well. more than any t-shirt ever could.

“just doing my job, as always.” spiderman leaned his body against the wall smoothly, resting his head against his fist. you two stood there in a few seconds of silence, both not knowing what to do.

“you better get headed home; it’s getting late.” he coughed, finally breaking out of his daze.

“no swinging around the city for me?” you asked, pretty disappointed that your boyfriend was about to make you walk home alone. “no can do, web swinging with lovely ladies is a daytime activity only; i wouldn’t want anyone to miss it.” he pulled his body from the wall, shooting up a web to hang from a sign above your heads.

“what a shame. guess you’ll just have to give me a show of the city another day," you replied, watching as mark swung his legs over the sign to hang upside down effortlessly.

definitely trying to impress me, you thought.

“i can see what i can do.” he crossed his arms over his chest before you stepped forward on your tiptoes, placing your hand on his cheek, making him short circuit.

“thanks again, spiderman.” you spoke, leaning into him to place a quick kiss on his mask-covered cheek.

“of-of course. any day, mam,” his voice cracked at your actions, making you laugh as you turned away to walk home.

mark hung in bliss before realizing he was supposed to be at your place, not saving your life in a spidey suit.

you rushed through the door, dropping your bag on the ground and making a beeline to your room. the only place with a window mark could slide through without getting caught.

you swung open your door to reveal a maskless spiderman half way through your bedroom window, eyes wide, body frozen.

you froze in shock, almost surprised that your plan had finally worked. "gotcha," you smiled, leaning against your door frame satisfied.

“uh…” mark scrambled, attempting to put his mask back on as if it would make you forget seeing his face entirely. as he tripped and tumbled around your room, you slowly made you way behind him.

“mark,” you began, attempting to get him to calm down. “baby,” you turned him slowly as he finally got his mask back on. “mark? who’s mark? that your boyfriend or something?” he attempted to deepen his voice to throw you off.

he realized this was unsurprisingly unsuccessful, noticing the smirk that continued to show on your face. “you know him, don’t you, spiderman? he’s the boy who just kicked ass and saved my life less than ten minutes ago.” you said, gently pulling off his mask to reveal your boyfriend’s face.

he stared at you, not knowing how you felt. “look, i can explain this all,” he nervously let out as he looked anywhere but your eyes.

before he could explain, you kissed him softly, wanting to ease his worry and express your gratitude. he saved your life after all, and not just by being spiderman.

“i’m not mad, not at all.” you looked into his eyes, noticing how at ease he seemed to be at the relief of your words.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i was so scared you wouldn’t want to be with me or be scared of me,” he ranted, trying to make you see his side in case you had lied and were even the littlest bit mad at him. he hated when you were mad at him more than anything.

“why would i not want to be with you? i love you, mark, so much, it’s crazy.” you pulled his face into your hands in disbelief at his words. “and plus, how could i be scared of such a handsome, strong, crime-fighting superhero who so happens to double as my boyfriend. if anything, people should fear me,” you joked, ripping a laugh from his lips.

“how long have you known?” he asked, pulling you closer by your waist. biting your lip, you looked down, trying to hold back your laugh. “remember when you borrowed my notes for class and forgot to give them back?"

you didn’t even have to finish, seeing the realization wash over his face as the words fell from your lips.

“yeah, maybe putting your suit in your backpack wasn’t the best place.” you both laughed at the situation at hand; mark was completely dumbfounded.

“so that’s why you talked such shit about me and bought that stupid shirt!” he continued to put together the pieces, gripping your waist tighter as he laughed at his own stupidity.

"ding, ding, ding!” you replied, pulling away slightly to take in his whole look, still not being used to see him like this up close. “yeah, definitely need to see you in this more often now."

mark flushed, turning into putty in your presence. your eyes traveled all over the intricate details and meshing of the suit. how it hugged his body and made him look completely unreal.

“do a little spin for me, doll.” you teased, wanting to ease up all the pent-up emotions still hanging in the air. mark giggled at your stupid comment but did as you asked nonetheless, turning slowly for you.

turning completely to the back, not a second went by before mark felt a harsh slap on his skin. “fuck baby! what was that for?” he whined, reaching down to rub the irritated spot.

"sorry, i couldn’t help myself when you have an ass like that, mark lee.” you smiled at his pained expression, putting your arms back to lean against your vanity, still ogling at your boyfriend’s physique.

“guess i really do need to wear this more around you.” he placed his hands on either side of you, trapping you beneath him.

“maybe the story time can wait till later.” you breathed before his lips pressed themselves to yours.

“i love you so much, my girl."

“i love you too, spidey boy.”

now you had mark completely to yourself, spiderman and all with no secrets left to hide.

© martiniblues | do not copy or translate my work!

note | more spider!mark WHAT CAN I SAYYY WHAT CAN I SAYYY. he’s literally my fav mark to write ever like pleaseee get him as the korean peter parker asap!!! anyways, hope you loved this and my request box is always open <333

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Not so Artificial Intelligence Part 2

When Bruce finally managed to get the time to look at the file Danny had added to the bat computer, it was almost patrol, and the rest of the family was filling in to get ready to head out. Even Jason had shown up, but that was probably just because he was bribed by Alfred with leftovers from dinner. Bruce couldn’t really blame him, Alfred’s food was the best in the world, but he does wish that he would show up more often just to hang out with him and his siblings.

Bruce sat in the bat-chair, graciously labeled with a sticker from a recent prank by Stephanie. She had gone around and labeled everything in the bat cave, but added the bat suffix in front. It had taken forever to find most of them, but he allowed some of them to remain. 

Finding the new folder was easy, it was labeled FROM DANNY, and left in the middle of the screen. Clicking it open and sipping his fresh coffee he glanced at the first document. The folder was full of notes, pictures and videos, but all of the previews were white, green, or black. 

Bruce started to read through the document, and chocked on his coffee at the contents.

Hello Batman and family, I hope this reached you before they do. I didn’t bring this up just incase you knew and were supportive, but how you act and how contaminated you are I will assume you do not. There is a Government Law that declares any being that has come into contact with enough or creates ectoplasm as non-sentient and non-sapient, but at the same time malicious {Abbreviated the AEA}. We are to be turned over to the GIW to be experiment upon and exterminated. This is literal torture, and I have gathered as much evidence as me and my friends could without being caught. I beg you, please be careful if you decide to take these people down. From what is on here, I think that Lazarus Water is a form of corrupted ectoplasm. Also, anyone who has died and come back to life no matter what are counted, and anyone with godly blood within them. Please Please, save us. My parents are the leading “scientists” which is bullshit, and they’ve already tied me down once. I can’t go through that again. Please, Amity and the Infinite Realms need help. If you don’t help us, I’m scared we may be forced to go to war, and I don’t think you can win against the godly dead. 

Please, I’m begging you - Danny Fenton {King Phantom}

“You good B?” Nightwing asked strolling over casually. He didn’t know how to answer, how was he supposed to say ‘Oh yeah, just found out that the government calls us non-sentient\sapient, and we are to be experimented and slaughtered. Also if we don’t stop them our worlds probably going to fall and we’re all going to die a painful death.’ That’s a fun conversation to have.

Clearing his throat he finally spoke up. 

“Red Robin, Oracle, I need you to help me sort through these, Nightwing, get the Justice league ready for an emergency meeting, call the Dark too. Look at this.”

“Are we sure it’s real though? It could be a prank,” muttered Oracle, though even she doubted her words.

“Even so, the threat is there and we should certainly look through this, and that means the League needs to know.”

Batman carefully mourned the loss of a peaceful evening, and his coffee, he was going to need to leave that at the cave, he had an image to keep. 

Nightwing wasn’t smiling anymore, Robin looked concerned, and Red Hood was openly gawking at the screen.

“I’ve called the emergency meeting, you three sort these files out, I’m calling up the JLD now. Guess we should warn Constantine to bring a couple extra bottles huh.” His joke fell flat, but Bruce wonders if he should bring some alcohol and coffee with him, image be dammed. 

“Wait a second, godly blood included? They fuckn’ shittin’ on Diana!”

“That’s what your concerned about Todd? Not that the we both fall under these parameters, along with Father and the rest of the collection? I will go fetch Thomas from his chambers, he will need to suit up to follow us to the watchtower.”

“Good idea Damian, tell him to hurry up. Everyone else, in the Zeta Tube, Alfred, you can stay here if you want.” Bruce gathered his laptop and moved the file over, copying and sending it to Tims laptop as well. 

“Thank you master Bruce, I will wait for the younger masters then I will be up shortly. Run along now.” Alfred excused with a bow, but even his face was shadowed in worry and thinly veiled anger. 

“See you in a bit Alf.” Dick replied, inputting directions to the watchtower in and doing a quick headcount. 

With a flash, the dark gloomy cave was replaced by fluorescent lights and the steel infrastructure of the watchtower. Hopping off the platform another flash of light appeared, and Aquaman stepped out. The group filled out as Aquaman politely greeted them. Making their way to the nearest meeting room, Batman and Red Robin began to set things up as the gathered heroes began to sit. 

“Hey Nightwing, what’s with the meeting, you never call for an emergency meeting, Blüd rarely has big threats.” Flash mentioned as he zoomed into the meeting room, last as always, and began to dig into his waffle plate. Where he got waffles from, Bruce didn’t want to know, they weren’t serving waffles in the cafeteria today, or yesterday from leftovers. 

“This isn’t just Blüdhaven, it’s all of the united States.” He worried, checking over one final time to make sure everyone was here. A collection of the main heroes from the Justice League, they’d need to figure out who counted as ecto-contaminated before throwing people around, and Constantine, Zatanna, and Deadman were gathered to represent Justice League Dark. At least he assumed Deadman was there, as a chair was pulled out and labeled for him. At least they wouldn’t have to race to find him, they could tell him just to stay up in the watchtower if things got bad. Finally, Robin and Signal rushed in, signal tiredly rubbing his eyes and his helmet in Agent A’s hands. 

“As some of you know, a person got stuck in the batcomputer a couple months ago. And was only recently released.” Murmurs and imputed questions rose around, and Nightwing promptly ignored them. 

“They left behind a file for us, and we were looking through it and discovered many hidden crimes from the US government. They have taken and labeled a whole species and group of people as non-sentient and non-sapient, and have been experimenting and committing genocide on them.” Again, a chorus of questions and yelling went up, and Nightwing had to take a moment to pause. A glance at Martian Manhunter reviled a stone cold face, quietly waiting for more information. 

“Oh god… what is this?” 

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[fluffylino]

worried!minho

minho wants to take away all your pain~

-contains mature themes

when were the cramps going to go. it was your second day of having your period. you had leaked through your pad and stained your clothes. now, you sat on the bed, swaddled up in a bedsheet while a random anime was playing on tv.

you were far too distracted to even pay attention to the dialogues. another sharp pain to your lower stomach. you huffed, wrapping your arms around your stomach. you curled up into a ball, adjusting your pad which had moved out of place.

minho's footsteps could be heard. he was busily moving about. from the kitchen, to the living room and then to check on you.

"how are you feeling, baby?" you jumped at the sudden appearance. he was standing beside you, looking at your bundled up figure with soft eyes. you let out a whine, lightly kicking your legs. you could hear his quiet laugh.

"mm' hurts" you mumbled, reaching your hand out. he took it, sitting close to you. he brushed your hair out of your face and leaned over you to take the remote. switching off the tv.

"still?" he seemed worried.

the thing was, it was rare for you to get cramps. you hardly ever got cramps that made you stay in one spot. on any other period you'd only feel a slight discomfort in your stomach. but today was different. you weren't used to it. and minho wasn't used to seeing you in such pain.

you looked at him through the bedsheets, only your eyes and mouth visible. his smile grew and he couldn't help but pat your head like you were one of his cats. which to him you were.

"i gave you a heating pad..we did some muscle relieving exercises and drank lots of water..what else could possibly work?" minho furrowed his eyebrows, his lips jutting out as he blinked. and blinked. and blinked-

"you know there is something that definitely works for sure. i was reading that orgasms help"

your eyes widened and then you slowly sighed.

well, that was true. but sex on your period would just end up looking like a crime scene. it made you feel confused. because yes, all the raging hormones were constantly at battle with your mind.

"but its icky and you'd probably find it...not so nice"

minho looked at you. "what makes you say i wouldn't like it?"

you were taken aback. did he really not mind?

"i don't think i want to do the...whole thing" you mumbled, shyly.

"so then should i try eating yo-" you screamed, pushing the bedsheet over him. shivering at how cold the room actually was.

"no no no" you chanted. that was not something you'd ever want to put him through, for the sake of your pleasure. you were aware of him. he didn't care about blood at all. in fact he was so chill about it. like the time you accidently stained his pants when you fell asleep on him.

he even washed out the sheets.

he ruffled around, throwing it on the ground. he scooted closer.

"should i finger you then, hm? that shouldn't be so bad, would it?" you nodded slowly.

"but what if i make a mess..again"

"i'll put a towel underneath"

"what if you get blood all over your fingers..."

"baby if i did mind it, i wouldn't have been so eager to suggest it"

he smiled. minho was ever so patient. always answering you with a reassuring statement whenever you fell down a spiral of unecessary thoughts.

"can you use gloves...?" you asked so softly, you had to repeat it for him to hear.

"whatever you want, baby. i recently just bought a whole new pack of gloves for when im marinating meat"

you smiled nervously.

"guess ill be using them to touch some other kind of meat" you pushed him off the bed. he gave you a sarcastic smile. your stomach doing flips at his expression.

.

you stood up, freezing when you felt a blood clot come out. there was no way you could do this. you finally decided on washing your lower body. so you did, carefully stepping out of the bathroom.

"take your pants off.." minho had come back, this time pulling the gloves up and over his wrists.

oh, so they were like the surgical gloves. the ones that fitted well...a little two well. his hands looked nice. they looked very nice in fact-

"what? you don't want the gloves? i don't mind" your eyes met his and doubt filled him. if only he knew what you were actually thinking about.

"i want it"

he had laid the towel down and you sat on it. you pulled your oversized shirt down, trying the cover up.

minho walked towards you, opting to sit behind you. his back resting against the headboard and your back to his chest. you felt a little exposed. he was fully clothed while all you wore was a t shirt.

you could feel his breath on your ear. minho's left hand rubbed on your stomach while his right hand slid between your legs.

he let out a surprised laugh. you knew you were wet. he could feel it. after seeing his hands in those latex gloves, you couldn't fight it.

"be a good kitty and open up for me"

you mewled at the nickname. lifting your knees up while he kept your legs open for him. he pushed a finger inside before slowly adding a second digit.

at this point you weren't sure if it was blood or slick or maybe both that leaked out onto his fingers.

"sorry" you apologized, you didn't even know why you were saying sorry. the pain in your stomach was the last the thing you were worried about.

"talk t-to me" you whispered, leaning into him. he lazily grazed his thumb over your clit while his digits pumped inside of you. with just enough pressure to not be too much for you.

"its okay, baby...you're doing so great, let me see how well you take my fingers" you moaned, as he pressed his palm against your heat. the latex feeling unusually nice. on your skin. and especially inside you.

"n-nice hands"

"yeah? you think my hands are nice? what do you like about my hands hm?"

he asked. he wasn't teasing you. he wasn't even joking about it. in fact he seemed to be curious. he wanted to feed into you.

"v-veiny..pretty and big...feels amazing inside of me" you answered back, bucking your hips when he added a third digit.

"you sure you aren't talking about my dick, kitten?"

"that even" you blabbered. letting him hook his chin on your shoulder. his breath hitched when you traced the veins on his forearms. they were so prominent. you wanted to lick them.

"that good, hm? who knew you'd be so attracted to my arms"

another warm sensation between your legs. his gloved fingers gliding in much smoother. you wanted to cringe at the sqelch it made every time he pushed in.

"you know, you have such a pretty little pussy, kitten?"

you blushed, trying to hide away from his comments. he nuzzled against your neck.

"i can't resist when it comes to you. i want to give you everything that i can"

willingly you parted your mouth, taking his other fingers in. he pressed down on your tongue. you sucked on them.

"you'll take anything i give you, won't you because you're my obedient princess"

[gilbertscurls]

Bloody ➵ Chris Sturniolo

summary: chris has an accident, and you're the only one around.

Your Friday night plan was simple: curl up with a good book, sip some tea, and unwind after a long week of studying. But your phone buzzed, and you knew that peace wasn’t in the cards.

The message was from Chris: “Hey, can you come over? It's an emergency.”

Heart racing, you threw on a hoodie and grabbed your keys, ignoring the way your stomach twisted with worry. Chris wasn't one to panic or send cryptic messages, so if he said it was an emergency, it had to be serious.

You reached the apartment he shared with Matt and Nick in record time. When you knocked, Chris opened the door immediately, his hand gripping a towel pressed tightly to his arm.

“Shit, that's a lot of blood,” you said, your voice catching as you noticed the crimson seeping through the fabric.

“I know,” Chris winced. “I was making dinner, and… The knife slipped.”

Your worry softened slightly, but your eyes widened at the sight of his arm. “Chris, you need stitches.”

“Yeah, figured that much.” His voice was casual, but his face was paler than usual. “I tried calling Matt and Nick, but they're out, so… You were the only one nearby.”

“Let's get you cleaned up and to the ER. Come on.” You grabbed his good hand and guided him to the sink, trying to keep your own nerves in check.

As you helped clean his wound, Chris hissed in pain but stayed quiet, letting you take control. You were used to thinking on your feet, but seeing Chris hurt like this? That was something else entirely.

“You're gonna be fine,” you said, though more for yourself than him.

“I know. Just didn’t expect to almost lose an arm over spaghetti night.”

“Spaghetti night? You’re ridiculous.” You couldn't help but smile, despite the situation. Chris always had a way of lightening the mood, even when blood was involved.

You wrapped his arm in a cleaner towel, and you grabbed your bag, ready to head out. “Let’s go.”

As you both walked to your car, Chris leaned into you slightly, his usual swagger replaced with quiet gratitude. “Thanks for coming. I knew you'd show up.”

“Of course. I'm always here for you.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the unspoken truth between you weighed on your chest. Your relationship was always more than just friends. You had danced around it for so long, but now, standing so close to him, you felt it all over again.

At the ER, after what seemed like hours of waiting and stitching, Chris was finally bandaged up. He shot you a lopsided grin as you both left. “I guess I owe you for this, huh?”

“You owe me dinner. Without the blood next time.”

“Deal.”

As you walked toward your car, the tension that had been brewing between you for months hung in the air. Chris stopped suddenly, turning to face you. “Y/N, I—”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly. “Maybe we can.”

“Don't,” you cut him off, though not unkindly. “You don't have to say anything right now. Just… Heal up.”

Chris nodded, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. “But when I’m better… Maybe we can talk?”

And as you drove off, both of you knew that the blood and the stitches weren’t the only things that had changed that night.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69