#BUT. IN ALL FAIRNESS. I HAD ENTERTAINED THE IDEA BEFORE IT REALIZED

[danidoesathing]

what if added. another motif

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[liillyliilly]

No Free-Solo

kenji sato x reader words; 10021 synopsis; from high school on, kenji couldn't do it alone, especially not when she was there for him.

“You’re missing me with that busy shit. You’re missing me with your whole ‘I can’t come over tonight’ act.” Kenji sat in what she liked to refer to as his dungeon, his lair, his Ultraman den. His too large for life couch made of black leather was cold and the emptiness was expansive in his mansion. He wanted her near, he wanted her to come back.

“I really can’t come over, I’m helping out Ami with Chiho tonight.” She tried to let him down gently, but he huffed through the phone.

She wasn’t a nanny per se, but she did do a fair amount of long-term babysitting for lots of people, mostly for Ami, occasionally for other busy mothers. She had a certain touch to the whole watching and raising kids thing, entertaining the child while also educating them.

Chiho was snoring in her bed. Ami was out with her fellow reporter boyfriend. And she, well she was watching movies in the family room of Ami’s house. Drawings that Chiho had done were covering the walls, plenty of Ultraman pictures to Kenji’s amusement.

She knew the Sato family through a long-winded connection by friendship shared between mothers. Kenji’s mom was best friends with her mom. In terms of maturity though, she was light years ahead of Kenji even when they were in high school. Back in America, when life was typical (meaning lacking in Kaiju and Ultraman responsibility) and the LA Dodgers still reigned supreme in Kenji’s head. They had met for the first time right before her junior year and his senior year.

She would be the youngest junior at the school and he would be one of the oldest seniors at their Los Angeles high school.

Her mom had insisted they visit her good friend the summer before her junior year started, and that she would need to help the son out in adapting to American High school since they had just moved from Japan.

She was worried due to a potential language barrier, but her mom assured her that he would be fluent in English. But how would her mom know that? Her anxiety was off the charts. She spent hours studying basic Japanese, which she found was probably going to kill her, why a language needs more than one writing system was beyond her.

“Ah! It’s so good to see you, Emiko!” Her mom went in for a big hug, and the petite Japanese woman returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as had been given. Her mom muttered about the separation between Emiko and Hayao, and Emiko gave a strained smile, leading them into the house.

Kenji was lounging on the couch, which she soon learned that he loved to do, a tendency to sprawl due to his height and lankiness. He was switching TV channels, until he landed on a baseball game and committed to watching that.

Her mom ushered her over to him, telling her to make conversation and get to know him. How she expected her to do that despite not knowing him at all was a wonder. She didn’t suspect that they had anything in common, and with the zeal he was watching the baseball game, she also suspected that he wasn’t going to be a huge fan of her preference for movies and shows over sports.

So she mustered up a greeting in Japanese from a textbook she had picked up. She had missed the way his eyes glinted with amusement, it was at that moment he decided to play just a small inconsequential game. A game where he pretended he didn’t know any English.

He responded in Japanese, and she realized she really knew nothing at all about Japanese. He sat up and patted the seat next to him. The moms left the main living space in favor of drinking some tea upstairs on a balcony, leaving her alone and incapable of communicating.

Pointing to herself, she said her name with a forced smile. He said ‘Kenji’ while pointing to himself and saying a variety of other words that she had no idea meant anything at all. At least Japanese sounded pretty, so she started thinking about the linguistic history and design of the syllables. He waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped out of her mini history lesson to herself.

Pushing his joke a little further, he used his head to point to a door near the stairs. She raised an eyebrow. He spoke for a few more moments, and she could only stiffly smile and nod in return. When he grabbed her hand and went to the door she thought she was going to die.

Inside the door was his room, and she really thought that this was the end of her sanity, her childhood, her innocence. She had fandangled herself into an intimate relationship with someone who didn’t even speak English and her heart was going to burst at the seams. Trying to recall all the words she had memorized, she was mad that she never learned the words for; no, stop, or I’ll kill you.

It was when she began to slink towards the door and hold her arms across her body in a cross shape that he realized maybe he should drop the joke. Her ears seemed like they were burning and her breathing had increased to a mile a minute in pace.

“Relax, I just wanted to show you my baseball cards.” He held up a binder and opened it to reveal a collection of player cards double sleeved and tucked neatly into a sheet protector.

“I thought you didn’t speak any English!” She frowned and put a hand to her heart. He laughed and she realized she had fallen for a trick.

“My bad.” He holds his hands together and puts them up near his head with a slight bow to apologize. Kenji pushes his bangs back and licks his top row of teeth, “Do you know if our school has a baseball team?” He asks.

She nods. “We’re in the top bracket for playing, it’s super hard to get onto the team though, my friend tried-”

He raised a hand to get her to stop speaking, then he informed her of his inherent athletic prowess, “Believe me, I’ll get onto the team.”

And he had. He’d even qualified to play on the varsity team.

A few months into the school year, while she was eating in the library with some friends, Kenji came bustling into the open space with his pack of baseball players. They always tagged along behind him, treating him like some sort of fancy foreign exchange kid, which she realized was exactly the situation and so her mental analogy didn’t end up working out and she clicked her teeth.

But the majority of white boys at the school did tend to lean a little too hard into the racial stereotypes and unfunny jokes. All Kenji could do sometimes was purse his lips and keep eating his natto. They thought because they had an Asian friend it was an excuse for their behavior, why Kenji never stood up to them and told them off was a huge confounding plight in her eyes. Kenji himself didn’t quite understand it either. Not even when they shortened his name into just Ken for ease and convenience.

Before she could tidy up her comparison and dissection of Kenji Sato, he was leaning on her desk, eating her carrots and searching for her eyes to meet him. He said something in Japanese, and she tried to remember how the words sounded so she could look up what he had said.

“I need your help.” He stole a bite of her sandwich, then drank some of her water. Before he even took it without asking, she offered her pastry to him and he ate the whole thing in one bite and mumbled a ‘thanks’ with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowing.

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can get these guys off my back.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his teammates.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell, Kenji.” She started to pack up her bag, but he just put his hand on her bag and pressed it hard against the desk. With his other hand he gently grabbed her by the chin, and tilted her face up to his. Inches away. Her eyes went wide.

“Pretty please?” He licked his lips and she tried to bring her own face back to avoid his tongue getting to her lips.

She thought about what her mom said, telling her to help out Kenji if he needed it. This couldn't apply though, right?

“I’m going to need so many favors.” She groaned, managing to get her bag out from under his hands.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ruffling her hair and heading out with his friends who began to goad him for keeping her a secret for so long. He had just taken her first kiss and it didn’t seem like it bothered him at all. She was too busy pressing her hand to her lips to even notice the way his ears were a scorching hot red.

When she went to research what he had said to her, she thought she must have misheard him because the proposed English translation was something along the lines of, ‘please let this work out in my favor’.

Continuously, she called in favors, and he was there to meet them. Getting books off the top shelves in the library. Sharpening pencils when they were studying. Even helping her learn just a little more of his language.

“No, no you gotta give each syllable its own beat. Copy me.” Kenji went over the blended ‘r’ and ‘l’ sound that felt clunky in her mouth.

She did replicate what he was saying, at least to her own belief that that was her best ability. He laughed a little and she frowned.

“Okay, move your tongue a little, right behind your front teeth, but also not touching your teeth, just let your tongue kinda do the sound in the middle.” Kenji opened his mouth a little so she could observe. She tried again but it sounded even worse than the first attempt.

“I wish I could just move your tongue for you so you could get the motion right.” She looked quickly side to side, biting her bottom lip. Kenji backtracked immediately, “That didn’t come out quite right, I think that’s enough Japanese for one day.” She nodded rapidly and closed the journal she was using to take notes.

He said that they could go get food, she agreed and they got burgers and milkshakes at a run down family owned diner. He paid, despite her insisting she could pay for her own food. Saying that that was apart of the whole fake dating thing.

“You know, you do a lot of things under the guise of our not dating, dating thing.” She sipped her milkshake. Kenji took a bite of his burger, musing about what he would say.

“Well, we’re friends as well right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since you basically arrived here. We’re friends, but honestly, we behave more like best friends.” She finished off her shake and cleaned up her area.

That was something he liked about her, her consideration for cleanliness and organization. But also her appreciation for others around her, cleaning up her stuff so that the likely overworked waitress didn’t have to. A person who thinks about other people. Now that was his type he decided.

“I’m happy with being best friends.”

In all fairness, he was probably the best fake boyfriend that a girl could’ve asked for. They had settled on knowing their relationship was best friends, but for others they had the additional label of dating. Sometimes though, he’d do something like grab her hand or wrap an arm around her. When those situations presented themselves, she always looked for possible viewers, his teammates. But based on her data, he only did things like that around 20% of the time when his teammates were actually watching. Meaning that the other 80% of the time he did the physical acts of affection, no one was around to watch.

While his English was practically perfect, he had the hardest time in social studies and history, so he got her help with his U.S. government class. He claimed that because he hadn’t lived here at all, and because he had Japanese citizenship that this class was completely useless for him. His defeatist attitude towards history made her roll her eyes at him.

One day, when she was intending to come over to help him, Emiko crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as he cleaned up his room. He threw his baseball socks and jersey into the dirty clothes hamper.

“She’s coming over then?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer.

Emiko got giddy, saying she’d make a good rich curry tonight for dinner and that he’d need to tell her to stay for dinner. He gave a wave and kept picking up his room.

When the doorbell rang, he ran to the door. Emiko chastened him and told him to calm down. He let her in, and she greeted his mom, giving Emiko the box of fruit her own mom told her to drop off. He complained in Japanese that she always went straight to his mom instead of greeting him first. Emiko in turn smiled at her while scolding her son again in Japanese.

Watching the conversation unfold, she shrugged, Japanese was just not her strong suit.

“How hard is it to understand a constitutional federal republic?” She looked over his essay answer to a prompt she had given him to practice for his upcoming test. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing the end of a pen. She was leaning against his bed frame, reading papers and marking up his essay with her red pen. Each time she made another red mark, he grumbled. Of all the people she had tutored though, his handwriting was the best.

“Correct these things first, and then I can edit again with my orange pen.” She held up said pen while handing the paper back to him. He just mimicked what she had said, holding his own pen the same way she had held up hers, even going so far as to bring his shoulders upwards to make him appear smaller.

In response to the insulting imitation she grabbed her notebook and hit him repeatedly on the knee. He let out a pained ouch, and she felt bad, so she put the notebook away and just patted his knee instead.

“If you really loved me you’d just write out the whole essay and then I could just memorize it and cross apply the right parts for the actual prompt Mr. Henry gives in class next week.” Kenji adjusted his body position, and her hand wasn’t on his knee anymore but dead center of his thigh instead. He smirks, and she immediately retracts her hand.

“Good thing I don’t love you then.” Kenji presses his hand to his heart and sighs, falling back into his pillow. “Just do the essay Jiji.”

He lifted his head and repeated what she had said, “Jiji?”

“Kenji.” She says his name and enunciates the two syllables cleanly.

“I like Jiji, I think it suits me. It’s a cute nickname.”

He finished rewriting the essay while she poked around his room. Photos of him with his mom and dad, which she already knew not to ask about because last time she did he went total silence for two weeks. But then he felt guilty about ghosting and took her out to get a sweet treat everyday after school for one week straight. Trophies from his old school back in Japan for his baseball achievements. Multiple MVP awards from the games he had played here.

The other photos that were in his room were mostly of him and his teammates. He just didn’t look too happy in those ones, so she tried to skim them, but failed. His teammates did their best to make him seem like he was a part of the group, but it just didn’t click all the way. Kenji always looked too serious in the photos, or it seemed like he was actually looking at the baseball diamond instead of the person taking the photo.

There was an adorable little figure, made either of acrylic or vinyl, of a little superhero with a red and silver supersuit and a blue circle on the chest. She picked it up and inspected it. What she assumed was Kenji’s name was on the foot of the toy. She bent the arms of the toy and moved it around like it was flying midair.

Kenji had completely paused writing his essay in favor of watching her dart around his room. He clenched his jaw for a second when she picked up the Ultraman toy, then eased his body language when she started making the toy fly around. If only that’s what Ultraman really was, just a toy. Just a toy and not an impending responsibility to protect and serve the people of Japan from Kaiju monsters. He wondered if she’d ever want to live somewhere besides Los Angeles. Tokyo for example.

“Kenji! Curry! Get the applesauce from the cabinet please!” Emiko called out.

She set the toy down and turned around, but Kenji was already standing right behind her. He had only meant to watch her movements a little more closely, but now this was entirely too close. He played it off like he was adjusting the Ultraman doll, smiled and then opened his door for her to exit and head downstairs.

When he heard the steps trailing down, he silently screamed and raised his hands to the sides of his head. Then he dragged a hand down his face and carded fingers through his hair. He envied the self he saw in the photos, cool and nonchalant.

“So, are there any boys you think are cute at school?” Emiko ate another bite of katsu that was drenched in curry sauce.

She swallowed thickly for a second, “I- uh, no. There’s not many good options for dating material at a hyper-athletic school.” She laughed to cut the edge off the conversation.

Emiko drank some water, but then prodded a little more. Kenji wished the earth would open and swallow him up.

“Not even at a school full of athletes? I would’ve sworn there were some good options for you on Kenji’s baseball team. What was his name? Eric? Eli?”

“Ohh, Ezra Johnson?” She supplied, eating some applesauce and then tapping her mouth with a napkin.

Kenji looked to her, then to his mom, then back at her. He was trying to stuff his face with his food so he could exit the conversation and then drag her and himself back to his room. She seemed insistent on blocking out the whole fake dating thing from his mom’s view and perception.

“Yes! He’s a really nice kid! He actually greeted me when I went to the first game. It was so sweet of him. His mom and I got to know each other a little bit. I can send you his details if you want?” Emiko grazed the back of her phone.

“No!” Kenji burst. His mom and his fake girlfriend both looked at him. “Uh, Ezra is talking to this girl named, um, Claire. Yeah, Claire.” He held his plate up and his mom nodded.

Rinsing his plate off he put it into the dishwasher, then from behind his mom’s back he tried mouthing to her so they could go back upstairs but she was too busy still talking to his mom to notice anything.

When she finally finished eating, she said she needed to go back home.

“What about my essay though?” Kenji rested his forearms on the kitchen counter while she was busy doing the dishes despite having to gently fight with Emiko about letting her even do the dishes in the first place.

“I gave you enough content to work with, just do the corrections and you’ll be good to go.” She bumped the dishwasher with her hip to close it, and he wondered what her bumping into him would feel like. And then he groveled a little that he wanted to be a dishwasher for even a split second. “I need to do my own homework now, tell your mom thank you again for me, okay?”

She rubbed his arm to comfort him slightly, but he took his chance to reach to her hip, tugging her lightly into him.

“What are you doing?” She hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down in case Emiko was still lurking around.

“Saying thanks for the help, goodbye, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed the hand that she had on his arm and held her hand for a second, then brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled, then pushed his shoulder.

When she had left the house, he flung himself onto the couch and giggled a little. Kicking his feet that were dangling over the arm of the couch. His mom peeked downstairs to see Kenji wriggling around and muttering. She just laughed a little. Maybe her instigation had worked out in the end.

The next week, she was hounded by baseball players after school.

She kept holding up a hand to cover her face, but they would not relent. Asking questions about her and Kenji. What Kenji was like outside of school, outside of baseball. If Kenji ever stopped being serious and aloof for even a minute. At this point they were just crowding her and not giving her the space to breathe.

She kept giving short curt answers, tugging her backpack straps closer and closer to her. At one point, one of them stepped on her foot and she winced a little.

It was like some kind of sonar sensor, Kenji could tell something was wrong. When he turned the corner, all he could see was his girl getting cornered by a bunch of idiots who didn’t even have his best interest at heart. The only reason why he asked her to fake date him was so that he could get out of dates with the girls his teammates had thought would suit him. The secondary reason was so she could avoid his teammates entirely. But clearly, the second reason did not go as planned because his teammates were a bunch of no-brainers who didn’t even really care about baseball.

“Hey, let’s go, I’ll drive you home today.” Kenji stuck his hand in between two of his teammates, and she grabbed it, so he was able to pull her out from the crowd they had made around her.

He strung two fingers around her jean belt loop and guided her to his car. When they finally sat down, and Kenji had started the engine, she let out a shaky breath. He put his hand behind her seat, and then moved his hand so he could lightly touch the back of her neck at her nape.

“Are you okay? I had no idea they would do something like that, I mean, it’s just completely ridiculous. I don’t even talk to them that much, if at all. And they treat me like some kind of foreigner, which I may be yeah, but really come on. That’s just herd mentality to the max. Ridiculous behavior, so childish.” Kenji kept talking while driving, she thought that maybe he needed a chance to really unload everything and mitigate the tension that had built up around him.

When they got to her house, he apologized again. And again.

“Don’t let it eat you alive, it’s all good, no harm no foul, if it makes you feel better, they totally reeked of body odor.” She chimed in after he finished his long wind of apologies. “And, um, what time is your game on Wednesday? My mom asked, she wants to hang out with your mom.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to see me completely kill the opposing team.” Kenji tried to lean out of the car just a little more, but his seatbelt kept him from getting his head out of the passenger side window. “I’ll text you. Get to your house safe ok?”

To her house from the car was approximately seven steps. The smile she gave him wrinkled her eyes and creased her nose just perfectly. He slid his hands up and down the wheel, smiling to himself as he started home.

The game went perfectly, he stole practically all the bases, and he made two home run hits. And an LA Dodgers scout was there. Once he got the documents and the scout shaked his hand, he was over the moon excited to play for the best team in the United States.

When he saw her with her mom and his mom, he just couldn’t hold himself back. In a second, he was hugging her and ranting about the scout continuously just repeating the experience over and over. Since his mom knew she would have a hard time prying Kenji off of his best friend, she just had to listen in to what he was saying, and she clapped when she had finally heard it all, celebrating from just far enough away to let them enjoy the moment.

His graduation was boring, she sat with his mom in the stands waiting for him to get his name called out. There were a lot of speeches, and she recognized the valedictorian from various library encounters, but for the most part everyone was a stranger to her. Emiko kept getting a call from an international number, but she didn’t try to ask about it.

Kenji barrelled through the crowd of graduates to get to his people, his mom and his best friend. When he started to talk about what he was going to do over the summer, his baseball camps and training, getting to meet the members of his team. His mom put a gentle hand to his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the serious environment his mom had suddenly crafted. She backed away a little, but Kenji grabbed her hand and shook his head, telling her to stay for whatever his mom had to say.

“Kenji, your dad, he’s, your dad wants to talk to you. He’s, he’s on the phone.” Emiko couldn’t help but stutter a little, unnerved with how Kenji would react.

Kenji shook his head no, pulling her closer to him trying to use her as a crutch to prevent an interaction with his father from occurring. She looked between Kenji and his mother for a moment. Emiko with her tightened face and hand gripping the phone tightly said more than what her original request was saying. Emiko wanted Kenji to answer the call. So, she in turn encouraged him to answer it.

“Jiji, just answer the call. It’s your dad.” He felt betrayed.

“I’m not picking up the phone, I’m not talking to dad, and I’m getting a ride with a friend.” He pulls his hand away, despite missing her touch, and leaves his mom and her standing and stunned from his reaction.

Emiko pulled her into a side hug. “Thanks for backing me, you’re much more mature than I think people give you credit for. I have udon at home, call your mom and let’s have a girls night. I don’t think he’ll be home for a while. I’ll let him blow off steam today, but don’t think I’m soft on him, he’ll have some hell to pay when I catch him tomorrow.”

Patting the back of her head, Emiko went to the small electric van. She stood for a second, thinking about the space Kenji had just occupied. Maybe the family dynamic in the Sato household was more complex than she had anticipated, Emiko seemed to still love her husband despite them being separated. Kenji seemed adverse to and angry with his father, but Emiko didn’t carry any slight of resentment.

Girls night was a blast, including face masks and bad romance movies. Kenji got back around midnight, just as her mom and her were leaving his house. When she left, he was the one who closed the door after her. He gave a short pained smile and a wave. In her mind, it was a win because at least he wasn’t upset with her for taking Emiko’s side.

Summer was hot and burned the apples of her cheeks, leaving both sunburns and memories in it’s fragmented state. Kenji was busy conditioning for baseball practically everyday. Somedays he’d invite her out just to watch him play, so she could sip some icy lemonade and sit in the shade instead of being cooped in her house doing whatever it is that homebodies do.

It would be deceiving to say that she didn’t enjoy just watching him play. The way his baseball jersey would bunch at his elbows and shoulders when he hit the ball. Or the way he would run the bases each time he missed a throw from the ball machine. He still needed to get a haircut, so his bangs would completely cover most of his face, until he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and his almost snake-like eyes would study her from afar.

The best part was when he told her to move her legs a little, so he could sit on the row of bleachers in front of her. Eventually positioning himself to settle in between her legs, resting his arms on her thighs and his head was leaning on her torso. Although his sweat would lightly mark up her shirts when his hair dripped from his practice rounds, she still loved to be there for him in this capacity.

Either he was here with her or he would be at the diamond alone and angry. When he came alone, he would throw his bat when he made a mistake instead of just brushing it off and doing a lap. Somehow, doing baseball training alone while waiting for official LA Dodgers’ orders made him all pent up and out of control. So when she came to observe, it felt like he had more things in his control, his ability to manage.

“How are you gonna survive without me next year?” Kenji rolled his shoulders before getting his water bottle and guzzling down the IV infused liquid.

“Well, as far as everyone knows, we’re still dating, so I’ll have another year of free solo-ing the romance world at a hormone ridden cesspool.” She slid her backpack on, ready to start the trek home.

Kenji slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then quickly switched which shoulder his bag was on once he saw which side she let her bag rest on, so that their bags wouldn’t bump into each other as he walked her home.

“You’re not gonna tell people we ended it?” Kenji sucked in some air through his teeth, readjusting the bag’s weight placement a little.

“Nah, it’s just easier that way. At graduation though if anyone asks how we’re doing I’ll say you found a supermodel that preys on greenie Pro-Baseball players.”

He nods, accepting the route she was going in order to terminalize their fake relationship.

“I was a good boyfriend though, right?” Maybe he asked so that he could feel out the possibility of a real one, or seeing what he could do better when he finally worked up enough courage to ask her out for real and for forever. For now though, he knew that friendship would satiate most of his yearning for her time and attention.

“Comparatively, to what I heard other girls went through, you were practically a saint. I mean, you never did press me into a couch so we could make out. Ruby held that over my head for the whole year once her girlfriend did that to her.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually,” Kenji stroked his chin, “One last boyfriend duty for me to do before I get too busy, ya know?”

“Kiss me without permission and you're a dead baseball boy.” He held up his hands defensively.

“That was one time.”

“In the middle of the library, in front of a good majority of my friends, right after I had been begged to be a fake girlfriend.”

Kenji raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, “I do not recall begging.”

“You definitely begged,” She clasped her hands together and turned towards him, pausing their pace on the sidewalk for her to parody him, “Pretty please.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted dramatically.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her hands so she would keep walking.

The postseason began around October for Kenji, and he made his official debut into the stage of professional baseball. Around the fifth game he played, he snapped. And that’s why he was sitting on her bathroom counter holding a bag of peas to the side of his face, while she dug through the closet just outside the bathroom looking for a first aid kit.

The catcher had just stepped out of line according to Kenji, messing up his at bat routine with his comments about his age, his inexperience, his lack of genuine talent. The first punch was Kenji’s, the second punch was the catcher’s and it rocked Kenji immediately.

Tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, he was just glad all his teeth were okay. He did feel bad for going to her instead of going home. But he knew that his mom would’ve killed him for hitting another player. The only reason why his mom wasn’t at this specific game was because she had some research files from years ago that his father needed, so she was spending the time trying to transfer data from floppy disks to USB drives.

She should’ve been asleep, or studying for her upcoming exams. He felt like an inconvenience and like a child who was being coddled, but he did feel like he was being fawned over by her which he could live with. Even the way she had reacted to him texting her and asking if she could help patch him up a little. She had sent nearly thirty messages, mostly angry, but also laced with worry.

“This might sting a little.” She reached up and pressed a cloth to his lip. He lurched away from the disinfectant, and she almost fell over due to having to reach up to get to his face.

“Hold on, give me a second.” Kenji got off the counter regardless of her complaints, she stopped complaining and was silenced once he swapped their positions, her sitting on the counter and him in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips, placed on the edge of the counter. “Better.”

She hummed a little, pressing the cloth to his face again, he tried to not lurch away this time. She put some triple antibiotic ointment on his lip and temple where there were some cuts. Putting some small star shaped bandages on his face where the cuts were biggest.

“All done!” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave a big smile.

Maybe he leaned in, maybe he didn’t. But their lips were definitely touching. When she pushed him away he realized he must have made a fatal error. So he decided to play it off.

“Sorry, a little faint from the fight earlier, not in my right mind.”

“Yeah, you, uh, you were just trying to, yeah.” She chewed the inside of her mouth.

Kenji helped her off the counter, and walked to her front door, ready to head out.

Holding onto the door, she stuck her head out and commented to him before he got too far away from hearing distance, “No more fights okay?”

He threw her a thumbs up before leaving her house. When he was safely back in his car, he did something that was all too familiar when he slipped up around her, he silently screamed and gripped his hair.

Years went by.

They stayed close, and he made sure of that. Baseball was going great, but no championships under his belt. She had graduated college, working at an office as an assistant. She moved out of her family home and got a shared apartment with some college friends who also worked in the main part of Los Angeles

Then, his dad hurt his leg, and everything went to hell. Hayao had called, telling Kenji it was finally time to take the name of Ultraman. He now needed to bear the gauntlet, the responsibility of keeping his home country safe. His mom just agreed, putting her hands on Kenji’s knee. Telling Kenji it was finally time for him to go home and be who he was supposed to be. And he was supposed to be Ultraman?

Baseball was his thing, he knew baseball and he was good at it too. Baseball felt like home, LA felt like his home, she felt like his home.

On top of all that, within a week of his father’s request and his mother’s urging, his mother had an accident. He had no idea what happened. Just that one day, Emiko was there and then she wasn’t.

He was depressed, and so he drank. His house was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, he was wearing the same clothes from four days ago. His toothbrush had become unfamiliar. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, staying in the dark and sulking.

When her mom found out about Emiko’s disappearance and presumed death, she called her daughter and told her to check in on Kenji. He had been distant lately, and she knew that the distance was a result of his grief. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she realized she hadn’t reached out to him in a few weeks.

His front door was locked, she had a basket of fruit and a stack of tupperwares filled with lunches and dinners for an entire week. She tried to think about what food were both comforting and had a lot of protein, so she made a variety of pasta dishes with extra meat.

“Kenji?” She knocked repeatedly, checking her phone only to see that her messages had been left on read. She called out for him again, knocking harder. “I know you’re in there Jiji.”

Opening the door made her grasp the gravity of the situation he was in. His hair was covering his face, he seemed to have recoiled into himself, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of his typical jeans and jersey thrown over a solid color tee. He smelled too, not of his usual mintiness and clean linen, but of all and any sort of alcohol. With eye bags darker than dirt, and hollow looking features, he just left the door open as he lurked back into his blacked out house.

Setting her gifts on his kitchen counter, she turned on the lights, and got to work. First the dishes, and then she picked up all the clothing and started a load of laundry. She made him a plate of the food she had brought, and a big glass of water and some Advil for the inevitable hangover he would have.

Lying on the couch, Kenji played with the hem of his sweatshirt. He tried to take another sip straight from a bottle of red wine when she stole it out of his hands. Whining, he told her to give it back and turn the lights off. She clicked her tongue.

“Eat this,” she handed him the plate, “Drink this,” she sat the water and pill on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, her arms folded in front of her chest. He groaned but did as told.

Satisfied with his actions, she dragged him upstairs and told him to take a shower. Hearing the water running, she looked around his room and cleaned it up. His passport, along with a one way ticket to Tokyo for one month out, was on the floor, covered by blankets that were strewn around. Opened letters were lying on the floor as well, pictures and clippings of ‘Kaiju’ attacks in Japan. Maybe she needed to brush up on her international news instead of staying in her little bubble.

Coming out of the shower with baggy clothes on, he dried his hair with a small towel.

“What are you doing?” He saw her holding the letters his dad had sent. He reached out for them, but she held them back and to her chest.

“What are Kaiju?”

Soon, he was sitting on his bed with her as well. He had the Ultraman doll in his left hand and a stuffed animal that she had given him some years ago in his right hand.

“Basically, I’m this, by blood,” He shook the Ultraman doll, “And I’m supposed to fight these back home. Since my father can’t anymore.” Laughing slightly, he slammed Ultraman into the stuffie repeatedly.

Her eyes were wide. She may not have understood everything about what he was, or what he was supposed to be doing, but she knew it was important to him to some degree. It was irrelevant that his dad needed him, the only thing he cared about was that his mom had asked him to take the step to become something he wasn’t sure of.

But the idea that her best friend was going to be a superhero? That he could change into some kind of robotic monster slayer? She had to disconnect a little from reality just to process the whole thing.

Suddenly, he thought of something that could possibly get him out of his funk. Something that could make his time in Tokyo, living an entirely new life bearable.

“There’s some extra rooms at the place I’ll be living in. I know that you want to go to some kind of graduate school. There are really good graduate schools in Tokyo.” He scratched the back of his head, if she said yes, then he would be truly mortified that she had seen him like this but he would also get to have neverending time with her on a day to day basis if she agreed.

“I remember none of the Japanese you taught me, I’d need to get a visa,” She started listing off all the things that would keep her from leaving, “But, uh, I think I’ll go with you. Yes.”

“I can handle the visa thing, you’re just going to need to sign some papers and have an interview with some people, and you’ll need to wear a ring on your ring finger. As for the Japanese, I’m a better teacher now than when I was 18.”

Getting married was not on her bucket list, but at least she could get better tuition at her graduate school for technically being a form of naturalized Japanese national. Her mom was glad to see her living away from LA, and she was grateful for Kenji going with her daughter. Her mom just didn’t know about the marriage for a green card/visa situation, and honestly, she didn’t plan on telling her mom.

The whole flight to Tokyo she was practicing her Japanese with Kenji. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. Not ready for the whole Ultraman thing, but ready at least to leave home and be out of LA. Los Angeles reminded him of his mother, every street sign, every restaurant, the greenery and flowers, it all came back to his mom.

What he had explained to her as the Ultrabase wasn’t just some place that he was staying at, it was a literal industrial modern masterpiece of a mansion. The sleek design ebbed and flowed into the molding of the island it resided on. Ceilings higher than a museum’s, she traced her finger along every surface trying to soak in the elitism of it all. He reclined himself on the ginormous couch, watching her observe the surroundings.

To him, she was the best feature of the homebase. Where most things were cold and stricken with a detrimental weight of his responsibility, she was like a beam of no expectations. She gave him the space to just exist without pressure. That and she was always fighting with his robot assistant MINA which also made each time returning back from fighting a little easier to endure.

“Listen MINA, I just think that you’d be more effective if you were pink, also can you pass me my pencil case.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on candy and working on an assignment from one of her professors on her Master’s Committee. MINA used an extended robot hand to fly over the pencil case that had been in her backpack.

“If I was pink, it would detract from my integrated design.” MINA floats around her head, observing her completed work thus far. “Your work is completely correct, why are you changing the grammatical structure?”

“For the love of the process MINA, for the love of the process.”

Kenji just ate another bite of his New York Strip, enjoying the free entertainment. When he finished his meal, he asked if she wanted to go out for an adventure.

Matching helmets, black and gold design with her wearing one of his extra leather jackets just in case. For safety he justified. The cool Tokyo air felt even colder as they rushed around the streets, lane splitting and cutting in between cars. The headphones had built in bluetooth so they were listening to a shared playlist they had made. Blending rap, RNB, pop, and EDM crafted the right ambiance needed for a late night drive.

In some ways, Tokyo was similar to LA. She reasoned that it might have been the lights to a certain degree, but here, the lights were brighter and bolder. Neon signs and air pollution were the common denominators between the two cities.

He takes a corner just a little too hard, and she instinctively tightens her arms around his waist, tucking her head a little closer to his shoulder.

They end up taking a break for a minute, pulling off the side of the road to grab some vending machine drinks. Tea for her, coffee for him.

That’s when his watch begins to blare red. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, she didn’t need to wear it around he told her, but the cool diamond gem had grown on her. Just as a precaution if the case workers came around to check on their ‘marriage’, that was the explanation she gave to him for why she always had her ring on. They never talked about why he always kept his on too, despite interviews asking and continuously pestering him about the ring. The baseball world had just concluded it was either a secret wife or for the style since he never gave an answer.

“I think you have to go do your whole superman thing.” She pointed at his watch that he was trying to ignore.

Kenji groaned a little, calling for a ride so she could get back to his place. MINA had already gotten to them by the time the watch had started to blare.

“Ken, it is time to mitigate the primary conflict in Shinjuku.” MINA did a bow with their robot body. She tried to throw a pebble at MINA to test for reaction time, that being said MINA caught the rock. She shrugged.

Back at the dungeon, also known as the Ultrabase much to her distaste for a name like that, she was surprised to see an elderly man with a crutch sitting on the couch in the central living room.

He was watching a big hologram screen, which now clearly looked like Kenji (in Ultraman form) fighting with a pink monster dragon thing. When he got a particularly nasty body slam she sucked in some air through her teeth.

“Ahh, hello strange girl in the Ultraman base.” He circled her for a moment, his crutch slowing down his assessment of her.

“Ahh, hi strange grandpa in the Ultraman base.” She waved, and the older gentleman introduced himself as Professor Sato.

“Kenji’s dad?” She checked.

“Yes, I’m his father.” She nods, getting a glass of water.

When Kenji gets back to the base, that’s when things get a little crazy. What was once a slimy egg turned into a cute komodo dragon mutant baby. She was all over the baby in an instant, trying to get to know it better.

“She’s adorable. I love her.” She was tapping the glass of the containment cylinder, cooing at the infant Kaiju. The baby seemed to respond positively, making little coos back and stomping around a little.

Kenji just folded his arms and took it all in. He was still trying to get rid of his dad, despite his father’s willingness to help out. He just couldn’t balance it all without Hayao’s help, he realized. Especially when Emi needed more assistance, and help avoiding the KDF’s insistent attacks. She loved Emi, despite the Kaiju having the ability to totally crush her, Emi reciprocated quickly to her. Considering the contrast in how long it took for Kenji to demonstrate that his Ultaman form and his regular self were the same through systematic desensitization.

They became a family, even if a family consisted of a pro-baseball player, his fake wife/best friend, an estranged but loving father, a Kaiju baby, and a robot assistant.

A learning curve consisted of a lot more mistakes and complaining, but at the end of it all, Kenji had to commit. He was Ultraman now. He needed to protect Tokyo. At least now he had a support system he could rely on. Slowly, changes occurred with him. Putting others before himself, really truly thinking about life and the value of other human beings. The catalyst was a Kaiju baby named Emi, especially the way that said Kaiju baby loved openly.

The misadventures of raising Emi were wild and laced with KDF fights, but in the end, Kenji and his dad were brought together by defending Kaiju in a unique way. The monsters weren’t intentionally villains, humans had just made them out to be like that. That’s life though, people defining and categorizing things into concepts and schemas that made sense to them.

That’s what his dad was doing when he and Emiko separated. Hayao was trying to find ways to open human eyes to the world and beauty of Kaiju. Living in tandem with them may not have been immediately possible but why shouldn’t it be ever given a chance? Professor Sato, his dad, wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he was trying his best to make the world a little bit better. Forgiving a father who he once believed left him wasn’t an easy road, but it was a path that needed to be traveled.

Saying goodbye to Emi was rough, yet, the Kaiju Island was close enough to go and visit on occasion. Baseball was great, winning the championship and going into a post-season diffusement.

Yet, Kaiju still came and wreaked havoc, and Kenji still had to fight and protect Japan. Even if that meant coming back to the base bloodied and bruised. She was almost always there, wrapping his arms in white bandages and wiping off blood with towels. Running ice baths and making cold soba noodles.

Which is what she was doing at this moment, rinsing the noodles in ice water and stirring a sweet sauce for Kenji to pour over rather than dunk his noodles into.

He was resting a frozen water bottle on his shoulder, hoping it would numb the pain, the Kaiju just had to try and rip his good arm off didn’t it?

“Hey, can I come in? Got your soba.” She knocked on the bathroom door using her elbow, since both hands were carrying bowls of soba with sauce containers precariously resting on her lower palms.

“Yeah, I’m wearing swim trunks.”

“Good because I’m not ready to see you naked, like, ever.” She chuckled, but pulled a chair next to the ceramic tub, breaking her chopsticks and saying a quick itadakimasu. He copied her, immediately drowning his noodles in the sauce she set on the edge of the tub. She rolled her eyes at his action.

He laughed a little, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, “What, it tastes better like this.”

She hummed an affirmative sound, but her eyes glinted with an agree to disagree conclusion.

The noodles had been fully digested, but she was still there, dipping her fingers into the water and making small swirls. The frigid temperature makes her fingers feel detached from her body.

Kenji lowers himself in the tub for a moment, getting his hair wet. When he came back up, she was pushing his bangs away from his face, smiling. Her hand stayed in his hair, brushing the strands away from his face as they dropped droplets down the back of his neck and then into the tub again. The ice cubes bumped into each other, melting slowly but steadily.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, uttering a few words, “Hot tub?”

She nods and heads out of the bathroom to get a swimsuit on.

The pool on the second to bottom floor of the base had an attached hot tub. He turned on the low lights, leaving the space in a warm brown shade of yellow light. The glass wall gave an outlook over the city and the ocean that surrounded the base.

MINA zoomed into the pool area, “Shall I put on some smooth jazz Ken?”

“No. Do not do that.” Kenji waved off MINA with red stinging his ears. MINA states they were just trying to speed up the whole process, and quoted one of her favorite phrases adding an addendum of MINA’s understanding and AI learning, “For the love of the process, especially if it's about love.”

The hot tub was warm, not quite boiling, but warm. She rested her arms on the outside ledge of the tub, looking out through the window. Kenji came to her side and replicated how she was positioned, before remembering that his shoulder hurt and gave out a small sound of displeasure. She giggled a little, rubbing the back of his shoulder where there weren't any distinct injuries.

“You’ve changed a lot since we were in high school.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head so that it was on her crossed arms.

“That’s what happens with time.” He wants to ask why she brought up his self-improvement. But she cuts him off before any words settle in his mouth.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a lot of great changes. You’re actually friends with your teammates now. And you’ve taken on this whole responsibility for an entire country. You aren’t just Kenji Sato, you’re also Ken Sato, and Ultraman, and I like to think you’ve fully embraced your father again, and not to mention our friendship.” She looks up at the ceiling, “You’re like an actual adult now.”

“I’ve been an adult for way longer than you.”

“But not like this, like an actual responsible person. You can juggle everything now.”

She sniffles a little, “Which is why I can understand if you don’t want me to stay once I finish my program you know?”

Kenji grabs a hold of one of her hands, “What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d want to kick you out?”

She shrugs.

He continues, “I hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with me. You know too much about my dark secrets.” She smirks in response to his teasing tone.

Kenji dives deeper into things he wished he would’ve said earlier.

“I mean, you already have the ring to prove it too.” Her mouth gapes open a little, raising an eyebrow.

It would be amiss to say that this wouldn’t alter everything, but it was time.

“I know that we’ve only ever been friends, but you need to know what I feel.”

“I think I already know.” She cups the side of his face, and he pulls her into him, and makes her face him. She’s sitting on the expanse of his thighs, and he looks up at her from how he’s leaning back onto the wall of the hot tub.

Wrapping arms around his neck, careful to not rest too much of her arm on his shoulder, she brings their noses to brush against each other.

“Mine now? Right? You’re mine now?” When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Pretty please? Mine?”

“I thought you said you never begged?” She grazes his lips with her own and he sighs with a light shudder in his chest.

“I’ll beg for this, for you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tightens his grip and pulls her flush to him. Angling his neck up and tilting his head, he kisses her. She smiles too much for it to be a proper kiss, but he keeps pressing against her mouth. When she stops smiling and starts responding with her own pressure of lips to lips, he has to suppress the hunger to bite her.

His tongue brushes against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth for him, he runs his tongue along the inner lining of her mouth before biting on the tip of her tongue when she tries to take her turn. He chuckles when she pulls back a little, nose crinkled and lips wet.

“C’mere.” He trails kisses down the side of her face, going to her neck and collarbones, glad that her swimsuit was low cut enough for him to graze the top of her chest, where the rise of her curves began. She just presses kisses to the top of his head while her hand tangles into the hair at his nape, twisting the locks into fake curls.

When their fingers were wrinkled from the water in the hot tub, they showered and curled up on his bed, watching a meaningless show.

“So, my thoughts are that we can just skip the dating thing and go straight to marriage since legally we already are.”

“My mom will kill me.”

“Good thing she loves me, just say we eloped.” He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her down to lay on the pillows. She snuggles into the silk blend pillow cases and murmurs a little, tired from a long day. He caresses the side of her face and rests his hand on her hip.

MINA flits around the base, erasing specific footage from the recordings in the pool room, for everyone’s benefit.

Kenji paced back and forth in the base, waiting for her to get back from babysitting Chiho, hoping that Ami’s date would end shockingly early for his benefit.

He’s still on the phone with her, “I don’t want to wait to see you.” He kicks a throw pillow that had fallen on the ground from the couch.

“Have patience, I’ll be back around one AM.”

“This is spousal abuse.”

“It really isn’t”

MINA chimed in and agreed with her, so she exclaimed and said that even a robot knows the truth that Kenji was just a little clingy.

“I think you should stop watching other people’s babies and come take care of your family. And by family, I mean me.”

“I know what you meant.”

He looks to the clock, three more hours of waiting would be excruciating. But at least she’d be back in time for him to wish her an extremely early happy anniversary with the new ring he got.

[freyadragonlord]

Stolas and Blitz’s relationship is a really well written misunderstanding plot, and here’s why 

I didn’t exactly have bad expectations about the Full Moon episode, yet I find myself pleasantly surprised by just how well the show handled the final confrontation between Stolas and Blitz. It was perfectly tragic and, most importantly, it perfectly fits how their relationship was built up to this point.

But how did Stolas get to this point?

Stolas has been starved for love since he was a child. His father only knew how to buy Stolas’ stuff to distract him from his distress (whenever Paimon bothered to even be around). Stolas’ wife – whom he did not choose – disdained him and did not miss a chance to humiliate him. He used to have a good relationship with his daughter, even though things got more complicated as she grew up and started to realize that her parents hate each other; but having your own child love you isn’t the same as having someone love you because you are you.

And then, out of nowhere, This Guy whom he considers his first friend - someone who was at the center of one of the best memories from his childhood - sneaks into his house and tries to seduce him!! Needless to say, Stolas is taken by surprise!

He even tries to talk to Blitz at first, and asks him about his life. He wants a connection, but Blitz just kinda pushes Stolas on his bed and starts doing sexy things to him, while dodging his questions. And, well, Stolas has never had good sex before that moment! His only experience is with a woman who does not like him and whom he doesn’t like. He gets swept away! Turns out, kinky sex really does it for him, and Blitz just Keeps Going all night!

Now, we don’t get to see how Stolas reacted when he figured out that Blitz was there to steal his book. The next thing we know (which is actually the first time the audience is introduced to Stolas) is that he is determined not to let that night with Blitz be the last. And who knows, even if Blitz had an ulterior motive for that first night, Stolas could still have a chance to seduce him! But how to do that? Well, the only thing Stolas knows about Blitz is that he really seemed to be into kinky sex and dirty talk…. So, Stolas goes for that!

After a while, though, he realizes it isn’t working. Plus, as much as the sex is good, what he really wants from Blitz is romance! So, he tries changing his approach, he introduces the idea of dates, of staying at home without fucking… But every time Stolas tries to change things, Blitz is resistant.

Stolas has many flaws. He is unaware of his privilege, he can be entitled, too self-centered… but one thing he is not, at least, is clueless about his own feelings. Stolas knows he loves Blitz, he knows he wants them to be together, and so he spends a long time trying to figure out how to confess, how to convince Blitz that his feelings are sincere…

In a way, it’s all that planning that dooms him. He spends so much time thinking things over, finding the perfect words, the perfect selfless act to confess to Blitz and set him free, that he does not realize that his confession will come out of nowhere for Blitz. And that Blitz will not have had hours and hours to rehearse his own reaction!

To be fair to him, Blitz truly is spectacularly clueless – to the level that it’s difficult to understand, without knowing his history - when it comes to his own feelings…

Right, how did Blitz get to this point?

The first time Blitz met Stolas, as a child, Blitz’s father had literally sold him as entertainment, and then ordered Blitz to steal from Stolas' house. “Go make yourself useful for once.” “It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve.”

Blitz grows up in an environment where his own father prefers another child to him. His only worth to his dad is to be a trading card, and to be an instrument to get rich.

Blitz doesn’t grow completely without love, tho! He knows what it is like to be loved. He has a best friend, his twin sister, his mother… And then he manages to lose all three of them in one single, spectacular accident. And it was an accident! But it was also his fault. And that’s the night Blitz learns that nobody can love him for long, because he does not deserve it. Even if someone did care for him, eventually they will realize he is worthless and dangerous.

Blitz hates himself.

Still, he does what he has to do to survive, and he goes on.

Years pass, and Blitz is trying to achieve his oldest dream, the dream to be his own boss, to lead a successful business, to prove that he can do something right. He needs Stolas’ book to achieve his dream, so what? It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve. He can make himself useful for once.

Does Blitz understand that it’s not Stolas himself who bought him all those years ago, but rather his father? It doesn’t really matter in the end, the only thing that’s important is that he knows that if he distracts Stolas enough, it’s not that hard to steal from him. If he sells himself, he can get anything out of Stolas.

The sex an accident, in the end. Stolas suggests Blitz is there to seduce him (Stolas is joking, but Blitz doesn't realize that), so Blitz goes for that. He bites Stolas’ neck to distract him from the theft, and Stolas reacts to that! Blitz can use this! He just happens to encourage Stolas when Stolas talks dirty to him, he doesn’t know he’s the one planting the idea in Stolas’ brain.

And Blitz could leave Stolas tied up and flee with the book, but at the end he feels bad. He decides to fuck Stolas after all, and well… That wasn’t so bad. He was supposed to do it “real fast”, but ends up spending the whole night!

Still, what if the sex was good? Stolas is still an entitled and powerful prince. And Stolas’ behavior in the following months only confirms that the other demon is just using him! And when Stolas’ actions start to change, well, surely that’s just some new kink, some new game…

Blitz constantly confirms his own biases, and he is incapable of seeing beyond them. He expects to be used because he has been used so many times, ever since he was a child. He doesn’t expect to be loved, because he doesn’t believe anyone can love him.

And if he starts to enjoy the time he spends with Stolas, at least sometimes, well….. That’s just the good sex. Plus, he feels powerful, when he’s fucking Stolas. Not only because Blitz dominates him in bed, but also because this is an arrangement he entered of his own free will, and he’s the one directly benefiting from it.

And! Isn’t it easier this way??? Relationships are messy! This arrangement, tho, no feelings involved, at all! He can push Stolas around as much as he wants, and Stolas will let him.

(Stolas cannot get hurt, after all.)

(He can get hurt??)

Blitz has many flaws. Being clueless about his feelings, and other people’s feelings, is maybe his biggest flaw. Stolas’ confession comes out of nowhere from him. He is confused. Nobody can love him, so it is a game, right?

It’s not a game. Where did this “confession” come from? He’s mad now. Stolas broke the rules, Stolas is using him again, somehow, Stolas… Stolas is crying.

It’s not a trick.

Their whole relationship has been a huge misunderstanding since day 1, and Blitz only just realized.

And Stolas sent Blitz away before he had time to realize, as well.

[heartless-tate]

High lady. | High Lord Eris X F reader

Summary: You used to love Eris- and now that’s all in the past. Or you at least that’s what you think. Until you receive an invitation to a dance from the high lord- Eris.

A/N: Hellooo my fireflies! I’ve been thirsting for Eris these past few weeks so why not write for him? I can’t believe I ever didn’t like this man 😫. Also for my male readers out there, if you’d like me to rewrite this or any of my other fics with a male reader, just ask! 💕

3k words

warnings: cussing, allusions to sex, use of y/n, slight angst, she/her pronouns

There were no words to describe your shock at seeing the royal invite to the ball. You weren’t high fae. You were a simple, low class librarian. Your name was written in beautiful, classy cursive. A handwriting you recognized immediately. This was handwritten by Eris. Eris Vanserra. Memories flooded your mind.

Running through the gardens, dogs barking behind you playfully. You didn’t have time to react before a body landed on you. Eris. He tackled you to the dirt, his hand was cradling your head to prevent it banging against the floor as he straddled your back. His hounds crowded the two of you, stomping and making noises with excitement.

“Got you little fox!” Eris announced, hugging you from behind.

“Not fair! You said you’d give me a head start.” You pouted. Eris’s laughter filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere. His arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into a hug. His embrace was warm and comforting in the cool autumn air.

Cauldron. That was so long ago. Eris was older by you than a long shot, but at that time, you were young. Nineteen years old. Young and innocent. He was also slightly more innocent then, playing with you and entertaining your young soul. Your face flushed a slight shade of pink, and you shook your head. You remember your crush on him. How could you not have one though? Everyone warned you. And you didn’t listen. He was everything a girl at that age would’ve wanted. Beautiful, handsome, smart, experienced, and a prince.

It was only when you discovered Eris was to be betrothed to some high fae daughter in his father’s court, did your little world come crashing down with reality. You were a peasant compared to him. And he likely saw you as nothing but entertainment. So you distanced yourself. You stopped accepting his invites to dinner with his family, you didn’t go out with him anymore. Of course, you couldn’t bear to completely cut him off. So you still would accept his occasional invite to walk with him in the forests with his hounds. He always told you they missed you. Now days, the walks were somewhat awkward. They happened every few months.

The last one was 6 months ago. You always thought you were doing better, you worked at a library, and cared for precious books. You lived in a relatively small apartment, but it was okay. You were grateful, you had a roof on your head and food on your plate. Things had changed since your last walk with him.

Beron was dead. On Eris’s wedding night, before the marriage had been officiated he had dueled Beron to a battle of death. Hundreds at the wedding had witnessed as Eris brutally slayed his father, and placed the crown on his head. Declaring himself as high lord. He released himself of the marriage, and granted his fiancé permission to marry her true lover. When the news escaped to the streets and you heard, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You realized, Eris would be to busy with his court to come on walks with you anymore. And that made you realize that your feelings weren’t gone. You had never gotten over him.

Tonight was a royal ball. You remembered Eris had always begged his father to let you attend the dances and balls, but Beron always refused. Saying trash like you should never be seen with royalty. Eris, stayed by your side though. He’d sneak from the dances and find you, and would dance in the silent night with you. And you had no idea why Eris was inviting you to this ball. Was it pity? Did he want you to experience something nice once in your life? What would you even wear? You certainly didn’t have royal attire.

You ripped open the letter with your nails, admiring the wax seal of a little fox on it. You opened it to a small card inside. Eris’s handwriting.

Little fox,

I’d be honored for you to attend the royal autumn ball tonight with me. A carriage will wait for you at your apartment at noon. Don’t neglect my dogs of your attention any longer.

Love, Eris.

You giggled. You felt like a school girl. You could feel the heat on your face. You admired his familiar handwriting. It was neat and lovely in every sense. A dried viola fell into your lap when you opened the card further. Memories of him teaching you cursive in the gardens made you smile. You stood, grasping the flower, and pulled out the small box you kept of every letter he had ever sent you. Whenever Beron would try to restrict him from seeing you, it didn’t stop him from convincing his maids or servants to get his letters to you. You hadn’t received a letter since his last request to walk with you. The box was filled with the dried flowers he’d always sent with them.

How could you go? What would you wear? You approached your closet. And then you remembered something.

“Eris- I can’t wear this. This is too- too, royal.” You squeaked, admiring the beautiful dress he had just gifted you.

“Wear it. It matches the suit my father made me wear. Let’s dance, little fox.” He purred, pushing hair out of your face. Once the dress was on, he pulled you close to him in the empty streets on the Autumn Court and guided you in a slow dance, uncaring of the lack of music. Or the fact he was missing a royal ball.

You didn’t waste time in finding the box tucked away safely under your bed, and pulling it out. You opened the box, staring at the gorgeous forgotten dress. You had only worn it the last night he had danced with you.

This would work. Looks like all the dances you learned from books would pay off tonight.

Music from the orchestra blasted loudly. You entered the throne room, slightly late. But nobody cared. You were fashionably late- you had to find a mask. It was a masquerade after all. And Eris’s letter was a little bit close to time so, nobody could blame you. People danced in sync all over the room, dresses of different colors swaying. It was so fascinating. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Sure, most of these people were stuck up cunts, but they were beautiful, and they knew it too. You walked down the the grand stair case, eyes greedily taking in everything.

And then they caught on him. He sat on the throne, auburn hair messy as if he had ran his hands through it more then once tonight. The crown on his head was slightly crooked, giving him an uncaring look as high fae of all kinds greeted him. His mask was the color of burning fire, gold lace trimming it. He seemed bored, uninterested in this whole party. And he looked every bit of the High Lord you knew he would be.

You didn’t have the guts to greet him. You couldn’t. He had invited you out of perhaps pity. There were clear boundaries you were sure of. And you knew approaching the high lord as a peasant would break every single one of those boundaries. You could already see high fae turning their noses up at you as you walked by.

You approached the giant banquet table, observing the various foods. They were all favorites of yours. Maybe you just had a fancy food taste. You grabbed a glass of fae wine off of a servant’s tray, happy to indulge yourself in high quality wine that you didn’t have to pay for. You decided to eat after you danced.

You turned to face the dance floor. You watched the first waltz come to an ends, couples departing to find new partners. You swirled your wine in your glass, smelled it and then took a taste. It was glorious. Aged, and woodsy. You figured the bottle was easily in the three hundreds. Who cared? You didn’t have to pay for it. You snickered to yourself.

“Dance with me?” A coy voice purred beside you.

You turned, seeing a gentle around your age. High fae. And he was still asking to dance. Odd. His mask was black with silver lace. He wore a simple black tux. His hair was a dark brown, slicked with gel. He had a warm smile. He was handsome. You took his outstretched hand.

“Why not?” You replied, setting your wine glass down on a servant’s tray. The male smirked with arrogance, and swooped you to the dance floor. Music begun, and he started the dance.

“I’m Silas.” He murmured, twirling you. You nodded, having no problem in keeping up with the complex strides of this particular dance.

“Y/n” You responded. His eyes glinted.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.” Silas said. He started to move faster, as if seeing how well you could keep up. And you did. Having no trouble at all.

You smiled warmly. This man was nice. You could see yourself with him. But it felt like something was missing. Like a hole in your heart.

“Thank you, Silas.” You purred back, starting to lead the dance. You guided it into a more complex rhythm, going along with the music, but ultimately making it more difficult. You giggled when he tripped over his own foot but caught himself. He glared at you.

“You dance awfully good for a commoner.” He huffed out, twirling you again.

“Having trouble keeping up?” You taunted playfully, not caring of his snarky remark. He was embarrassed. You could tell by how his eyes were roaming the people that had take to watch the both of you dance, interested in seeing how long you could rule the dance floor, he was embarrassed. Your eyes roamed the people. You could feel a familiar sense of someone watching. Your eyes found Eris. He was no longer listening to the fae beside him. His amber eyes bored into you. When you caught eye contact, he smirked. His legs spread as he leaned further into his throne. His eyebrow was cocked, his long talons tapping against the throne.

Cauldron. You had forgot how breathtakingly gorgeous he was. And sexy. You felt your face flush.

A snarl distracted you from him. Silas’s hands clutched your hips.

“Do not mock me.” He growled quietly in your ear. The music’s rhythm went faster, and the dance along with it. The curious fae quickly started dancing again, embarrassed at how they were so mesmerized by a commoner.

You went to take another step, but Silas went crashing to the floor. You watched in shock as he slid on the floor, his eyes wide with fury and embarrassment. His face heated with embarrassment. He looked up at you mouth open as if he was about to blame you, but his eyes caught on something behind you. Or rather, someone.

You turned slowly to see the high lord standing in his full glory behind you. His sharp cunning eyes squinted and mouth pulled into a smirk. He observed the male on the floor before looking at the people around you both. Then his eyes landed on you. You were awestruck by him for a minute- before you realized he was royalty. You started to bow but an invisible force stopped you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion before Eris bowed in front of you.

The High Lord just bowed in front of you. You. A peasant. Before you could say anything he lifted his hand to you.

“Grant me the pleasure of a dance?” He said, loud and clear. Gods you missed his voice. Yours ears picked up multiple gasps of shock. You heard a start of a growl before seeing Eris’s eyes glare into Silas behind you. You heard Silas scrambling away, knowing his place. Eris’s eyes turned back to you. He stayed in a bowed down position, hand waiting for yours. You swallows your shock. So be it. This very much may be the last dance you and him share, and you would take it.

Eris smiled softly when he felt the familiar embrace of your hand on his. His hand wrapped around yours, completely swallowing it. You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until now. He motioned with his free hand for it to begin again. Fae around you scampered to start dancing, but all of their eyes were on you. On him. And his eyes were on you. And that’s all that mattered.

His free hand moved to your hip, grasping it gently with respect. He slowly moved to start the dance, holding you close. You didn’t know what to say or do other than to follow his lead. You didn’t even realize your mouth was gaping open.

“Little fox, you look like a fish gasping for air.” Eris teased in your ear, and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Sorry-“

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” He replied, smoothly. Gods. It was as if you were 19 again and you were dancing in the empty village with him. His long nails drew circles on your hip as you slowly started ti advance in the pace of the music. He kept up with ease, and you the same.

“Your hounds miss you.” Eris murmured, leaning his head down enough to kiss your forehead. It took every ounce of self control to not accidentally trip in shock.

“My hounds? They’re not mine. They’re yours!“ You started.

“Yes, they are, little fox. You helped me save and raise Sadie’s pups. If it wasn’t for you most of them would’ve died during birth. They are every bit of yours as they are mine.” He responded, pulling you closer. You knew better then to continue this fight with him. He was stubborn. And you knew if you tried to refuse again you’d probably have a pack of hounds at your apartment door tomorrow- out of spite.

“Whatever.” You grumbled defeatedly, shaking your head. He chuckled. His laugh was deeper now. You could smell the envy of other women around you. You wondered if they knew there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.

“So..how’s being High Lord?” You asked, unsure of what to talk about now. Eris frowned with a playful pout.

“Lonely. I’m sure the hounds would agree too. But don’t worry about that. That’ll change very, very soon.”

You weren’t quite sure what Eris was getting on to now. He always spoke in riddles. You sighed. Before you could re-question him, he started talking again.

“How has my little fox been?” Eris divulged.

You blushed. He had always had a knack for that dumb nickname. You were glad people couldn’t hear your conversation. The current dance came to an end and Eris wasted no time in pulling you into another. He knew you would have no problems keeping up.

“I’ve been good.” You responded. You looked up at him. He had gotten taller. And bigger. Maybe it was the high lord magic that transferred to him after Beron died or something. You weren’t sure. But he towered over you, creating a comical size difference. He gave you a toothy playful smile. He was always so carefree around you. You loved it. You loved him.

“You look lovely in that dress.”

“You bought it.” You quipped back at him.

“I have such good taste don't I?” He countered.

You couldn’t help but giggled looking away. The music slowed and you knew this was coming to an end. And gods you didn’t want it to end. His eyes softened as if he too was thinking the same. He grasped you tighter, pulling you closer, your bodies left no space between each others. He leaned down and inhaled your scent.

“Gods. I missed you. I missed your scent. The way you laugh. Talking with you- I missed it all.” Eris started. He held you tighter when you tried to pull away, confused.

“Don’t move away. Let me enjoy this Y/n.” He whispered, head going to the crook of your neck as he slowed the dance, moving with rhythm to the orchestra’s music. You realized how desperate and clingy his hood on you seemed now. As if he had missed you as much as you missed him.

Fuck boundaries. You couldn’t care if you were a peasant compared to him right now. You let your inner thoughts win as you tightly clutched at him. You didn’t wanna let go of him. You let your head lean against his chest, relaxing into the calm and slow dance. You knew fae were gawking at you both. And neither of you cared. Eris seemed shocked at your return of his embrace. The music slowed to a stop, and so did you both in the middle of the floor. Eris gently pulled away, staring at you with such adoring eyes. A sharp contrast to who he was in front of these people. His eyes found their way to your lips. He looked back up at you, a pleading look on his face. You understood what he wanted.

His hand clutched at the back of your head as your lips met. His were soft. It was the most gentle and loving kiss. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about the jealous and envious fae. Not just women. Both males and females snickering in jealousy. Eris pulled away, eyes soft. He took in the sight of you.

He didn’t waste time in pulling you in for a second kiss. This one wasn’t gentle. It was hot. Aggressive. He kissed you as if there was a fire in his bones and you were the only thing that could sooth it. His teeth gently nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. You returned it. His hand clutched at the back of your head, talons tangled in your hair. His other one clutched at your hip and roamed to your lower back. Your hands clutched at the front of his dress shirt. When you pulled away gasping for air, Eris had the biggest smile on his face. His eyes roamed your face again. You lips were swollen and pink from him. You were panting and looking at him as if he was everything. And he returned the same look. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw.

“Don’t make me miss you anymore. Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you could dream of. You can be my high lady. Anything- anything you want.” He begged, eyes pleading. You knew he wasn’t lying.

“Eris..”

Eris swear his heart stopped with the way you said his name. He’s positive he would die right here on this floor at your knees if you rejected him. You were all he ever wanted.

“You’re everything I could dream of.” You whispered to him. Eris took in a gasp of air, not realizing he had been holding it. Relief flooding his body. And then pure love. He grabbed your hand before you could say anything and guided you up the stairs the the throne. He turned, facing the crowd with you. His hand placed on your lower back.

The whole crowd of fae stared in confusion and shock. No idea of what was about to happen.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Eris barked. “Show some respect to your high lady.”

His voice boomed across the room, gasps eliciting from the crowd. And then, they all bowed. You stood in front of the throne, watching as they all bowed to their knees. The scent of fear and confusion flooded from the fae.

Eris smirked before turning around back to you. He knew that despite your anxieties, you were made for this. Just your presence demanded attention from others. He knew you were his. His eyes shined with pure male pride as he removed the autumn court crown from his head, and gently placed it on yours. You watched as he bowed down on his knee, paying respect to you. His queen. You relaxed. Hundreds of high fae all bowed down to you. Your man bowed down to you. You tipped your head up with a smirk.

Eris grasped your hand and kissed your ring finger with a possessive glare at it. As if promising himself it would soon have a ring around it. He stood, and walked you to the throne. He held your hand as you sat down on it, crossing your legs. He stood beside you, eyes peering to the fae. He looked to you. Gods you were gorgeous. He couldn’t help the possessiveness in him that filled to the brim at seeing you where you finally belonged. He had waited so long to be able to do this.

“The masquerade is over. Get out.” He growled to the people, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t bother turning around to ensure the people left. He could hear them rushing to get out.

He was gonna fuck you on your rightful throne.

[reidmotif]

Behind Closed Doors Pt. 2

Summary: Reader and Spencer get caught having sex in the storage closet, in possibly the most embarrassing way possible.

A/N: This is a requested Part 2 to my other fic by the same name, "Behind Closed Doors" . For the full experience, read them back to back!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, drinking/drinking games, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, semi-public sex, tipsy sex (if you squint), exhibitionism (kind of)

Word Count: 2.9k

The storage closet at the BAU had become somewhat of an unlikely sanctuary for Spencer and I. 

I didn’t realize how much I’d end liking it, especially since my boyfriend and I had always managed just fine with no PDA at work for long periods of time, but once I got a taste of it- I was fucking addicted. 

Maybe it was the thrill of knowing we could be caught at any moment, or the idea of someone hearing my moans through the thin door of the small space, begging Spencer for more and more until I was practically sobbing. 

Or maybe it was that Spencer seemed to lose all control when we were in the closet, any and all previous inhibitions and protests leaving him as soon as we closed the door, his hands immediately sneaking under my shirt, cupping my bra and removing it, touching me in any way fathomable.  His lips would make their way down my neck, teasing me until I was needy and desperate, and then he’d let loose, fucking me like we’d never get the chance to do this again. 

All in all, the closet was definitely a wonderful addition to the places we’d had sex in.

When Spencer and I had arrived at the bar for drinks after our most recent case, we weren’t really expecting too much from the night. It was meant to be celebratory, to commence a job well done from the entire team and while nights like this could get rowdy, Spencer and I had already planned to leave earlier into the night than usual to spend some time with just each other. (And to just have loads of sex, truthfully). 

Spencer had his hand in mine as we entered, spotting our team in the back in a little booth, already seeming to have gotten started on their drinks for that night. They smiled and waved us over and we approached them. Spencer let me slide in first, while he scooted in next to me, our thighs touching due to the small and intimate setting of the booth. It didn’t bother him, and he let his hand let go of mine before placing it on my thigh. It was comforting, as if a way to subtly tether us to each other even while we were in front of the team. 

We all exchanged hellos and pleasantries before Derek pushed two shots towards us. 

“Drink up.” He said, with a smirk. “For being late.” He added. 

I rolled my eyes playfully, before grabbing the drink and tipping my head back and taking it. The familiar burn of tequila hit the back of my throat, and I made a face. 

“Eugh. Tequila? Seriously, Derek?” I said, scrunching up my face and placing the shot glass down, watching as Spencer mimicked my actions, having a similar reaction, albeit less pronounced than mine. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” Derek said, winking. “Live a little. Plus, we all did them before you were here, so it’s only fair.” 

I laughed a little, already feeling a little tipsy and nodded. “Fine. Fine.” I said. “I’m not leaving here without at least one Cosmo in me though.” 

After a trip to the bar and a few drinks, conversation became lively, and jokes were exchanged freely. Everyone had loosened up quite a considerable amount, including Hotch, who was known for a much more stoic appearance at these things. 

It was JJ who eventually suggested we all take part in a drinking game, a habit from her teenage years emerging, when the options for entertainment in her small town were limited between drinking or visiting a local grocery store. If there was anyone skilled at turning a seemingly mundane situation into a lively one, it was her.

“Ooh!” Penelope said, clearly enticed by the idea. “What do you propose we do?” She said, clasping her hands excitedly together and laughing. 

“How about Never Have I Ever?” JJ suggests, smirking. I internally groaned. Never Have I Ever was fun, but when it turned sexual it was always a bit awkward for Spencer and I specifically. Whereas the married members of our team had the luxury of not having their partners there when risque questions were asked,  Spencer and I would awkwardly put down both our fingers at the same time, watching as our team put two and two together and realize we’d actually done that thing together. It was all in good fun and it didn’t bother me or him that much. We were a couple. Of course we had sex- but still. Having everyone at the table know that the man who was the cause for all my put-down fingers and empty shot glasses was actually right next to me always proved to make some interesting situations for the two of us. 

Still, we agreed good naturedly and smiled, as noises of approval spread among the table, everyone seemingly on board with the idea.

JJ looked happy, opting to ask the first question, since it was her suggestion in the first place.

“Okay, okay.” JJ says, excitedly. “Never have I ever.. slept with a coworker.” She flashed a mischievous smile, her eyes seemingly drifting towards our side of the table.

Spencer and I immediately groaned and the table erupted in laughter. 

“Sorry, sorry.” JJ said, putting her hands up in playful defense. “You know I had to. It’s practically tradition at this point when we play."

Spencer and I clinked our respective drinks with a small smile exchanged between the two of us, letting the bitter and burning liquid plague our throats. Penelope took a shot as well, since she had been with Kevin. We all argued for a bit that technically JJ’s relationship hinged on the fact that she’d met her husband working on a case. It was eventually decided that since Will never worked at the BAU specifically, JJ was void from putting a finger down. Even then, JJ wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to drink and took a shot anyway, and grinned. “Onto the next person.” She said, raising her shot glass to the person on her right. 

Derek beamed brightly, being the next person in succession to ask a question. “Alright, my turn.” Derek pauses. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He says, confidently.

Emily smiled, sipping from her glass. “That’s me.” She said, tipping her head back and seemingly having no reaction. 

“Really Prentiss?” Derek said, smirking a bit. “How was he?” 

“Who said there was a ‘he’ at all?” Prentiss fired back, with a smirk and Derek nodded, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “Damn.” 

“Damn indeed.” Prentiss said, laughing a bit. “My turn. Erm. Never have I ever had sex in public.” 

Spencer and I glanced at each other, hesitated, before lifting up our drinks to our lips simultaneously. The entire team’s eyes widened, watching us. 

“Hold on- what?” Penelope said, leaning over. “No way! You two are so.. proper!” She exclaimed, in disbelief. “Where would you even..?” She says, trailing off, trying to figure out how she could reason this in her mind. 

“Hey, I don’t kiss and tell.” I say with a smirk. Spencer let his hand snake around my waist, away from the eyes of our incredulous coworkers. 

Derek laughs a little. “Well, at least we can be sure you two aren't the closet couple.” Derek remarks, and the team laughs. "That isn't something you'd ever do."

“Closet couple?” Spencer says, and even if he’s trying to hide it, I could sense the edge in his voice. 

“You know!" Penelope said, excitedly. “Nobody knows who they are- but there’s this couple who keeps sneaking into the storage closet off the hallways to have sex.” 

Prentiss interrupts. “I’m telling you, it’s that guy and girl downstairs in Records.” She says, nodding with absolute certainty. “All alone in that basement all day? I’d want sex that makes me scream like that too.” 

I heard the words and could feel my cheeks immediately heat up. Jesus, they were talking about me. Spencer and I were fully aware of the fact that we could be caught, especially since we weren’t exactly the best at staying quiet, but hearing our team discuss us- our sex, right in front of us without even realizing it was a mortifying experience nonetheless. 

“I just wanna know what he’s doing to her in there.” JJ muses, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Like, are you having sex or absolutely murdering the girl in there?” 

Spencer blushed at that, and now both of us were avoiding eye contact with the team, but they seemed totally unfazed, considering they were continuing their conversation about the aforementioned couple. 

“I swear, somedays I want to stand outside that closet just to see who comes out, but they spend such an ungodly amount of time in there and there’s only so long you can listen to two people having sex before it gets weird.” Emily remarked, and JJ laughed. 

“We’d have to take shifts, trying to catch them in the act.” and everyone agreed, nodding. “He must last long if they can spend that much time there..” JJ noted, offhandedly. 

“As fun as it is to speculate on who’s having sex in a closet.” Hotch starts, “It’s getting late. I’m going to finish us off with an easy one.” Hotch says, looking at the team. 

“Never have I ever had sex in a storage closet.”  Hotch says, clearly expecting none of us to take the last few remaining shot glasses on the table. 

Spencer bit his lip, hesitantly reaching over the table to take two shots for himself and me, and we both downed it. As we set our glasses down, we were met with the shocked faces of our coworkers. Derek's mouth was slightly agape, and Penelope pointed between the two of us, trying to connect the dots.

“You know what?” I say, loudly, before any of them can say anything. “I think that’s our cue to leave.” I comment, starting to push Spencer out of the booth, and he immediately understands my urgency. He grabs my hand and nods. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late.” He says, hurriedly getting out of the booth. “We’ll see you all on Monday!” He let his strong grip nearly drag me out of the booth, and we had our backs to the team in a split second.

“Hold on! You can’t just-” Penelope called out, but we’d already made it halfway across the bar before our coworkers could question us about what had just happened. As we left the bar in a panicked rush and felt the cold wind nipping at us, we took one look at each other and burst into laughter. 

“Is it safe to assume they know?” Spencer said, through laughs. 

My own chuckles came out a little embarrassed. “Incredibly safe to assume, actually.” I said, smirking at him nonetheless. “Now we know that all our coworkers think you’re murdering me during sex.” I say, playfully nudging his shoulder. 

Spencer wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into a soft, yet passionate kiss. It takes me by surprise but I immediately melt into it, wrapping my arms around him. I can feel his lips moving against mine, and when he slips his tongue in, I can feel the taste of liquor transferring from his mouth to mine. He pulls back and grins, boyishly. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Spencer said, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke.

I bit my lip. He looked so fucking sexy right now, the adrenaline from the game and the drinks making his complexion look rosy and hot. His hair was messy from our kiss, and his lips slightly swollen. Despite what felt like embarrassment in the bar, I realized it didn’t corrode the fact that I desperately wanted the man.

“Spencer.” I say, tugging on his shirt. “I need you.” I breathe out. 

"I need you too, baby." He responds, rubbing small circles into my waist.

"No, I need you. Please." I say, hoping he caught onto what I was asking for, without me explicitly saying so.

He knits his brows, understanding, and he let his hands linger on my waist. “Okay, baby.” He says, hesitantly. “Let’s get back home-” 

My desire, only heightened by the alcohol I’d consumed, caused me to shake my head. “No.” I interrupted. “Please, I need you now.” I say, using a voice that would go straight to his cock, full of broken desperation and need for him, just for him. 

It worked. He took one look at my blown out pupils and my parted lips and looked around. “I don’t wanna go back to the bar since the team could see us.” He groans. 

“Then here.” I say, frantically. 

“(Y/N).” He says, rubbing my shoulders. “I love sex just as much as you do but the front of a bar is not-” 

“Not here.” I say rolling my eyes. “The back. That one alleyway?” I say, praying to every God that my boyfriend would just say yes. And thankfully, he did. His face broke out in a smug expression, realizing we could actually have sex now, nearly dragging me as much as I’d allow him. I could feel the exhilaration and lust permeating from both of us, and as soon as we got to the alleyway, he got to work, kissing up columns up and down my neck. He didn’t even bother to check if someone was out there, turning his entire focus to me, to us, and how badly he wanted this. 

With every kiss and bite at my neck, my whimpers grew louder, and he cruelly put a mouth over my mouth, muffling my sounds. 

“Stay quiet.” He growled, and I looked at him, my eyes begging him to just fuck me already. 

“I think enough people know how much of a needy slut you are already, mm?" He says, beginning to undo my jeans and flipping me around, so his broad chest was up against my back.  "Or are you that much of a whore that you want the people at the bar to know too?”

He let the hand encompassing my mouth drop, and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Make one noise, and I stop.” I then realized that I could feel the head of his arousal rubbing against my folds, and my knees nearly went weak from the sensation. I hadn’t even realized we’d moved this fast, and suddenly, he entered me with a rough thrust, nearly pushing me into the wall. 

It took everything in me not to let out a yelp of surprise, and the bite I had on my tongue in this moment was sure to draw blood, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was every rough thrust that Spencer fucked into me, holding my hips with a bruising force, jutting into me like a man possessed. 

“You like that, mm?” Spencer whispered, leaning over to let his ears brush over the shell of my ear. “You like the idea of being caught? Of everyone knowing how fucking well I treat you?” 

I nod, wildly. “Yes.” I whisper. “Spencer, please-” 

But my words are cut off by another pass of his cock in me, leaving my jaw dropped but no sound coming out. 

“Come on, baby.” He grunts, cruelly. “Gave you one rule, didn’t I?” He says. He notices how weak my knees have gotten in the midst of our rendezvous, and he quickly grips onto my hair, pulling me up against him. “Can’t be a good girl for me?” He teases, a ruthless lilt in his tone. 

I whimper, nodding. “I can. I can” I mumble incoherently. I start to fuck back on him, matching the movement of his hips into mine, feeling myself rapidly approach my orgasm. “Please. I need- I need-” and without thinking of the consequences, I come, feeling the tension leave my body in pleasure inducing waves that cause my entire body to convulse. This only spurs him on to go faster, feeling the clench of my cunt around his cock. 

“Fuck- you feel so good. So fucking good around me.” He praises, and in an instant, his head is thrown back and I can feel him emptying himself inside me with a shudder, still gripping my hair with a desperate, primal need. He's panting, and breathless, and he pulls out as he finishes, tucking himself back into his pants quickly. He lovingly turned his attention to me, fixing me up as well. I whimpered softly as he took care of me, brushing my hair back and pressing small kisses to the back of my neck.

He turns me back to face him once he managed to get my underwear and jeans back up, and caressed my face, planting a tender kiss on my lips, then my forehead, and then bringing me close for a hug. I can feel the scent of sex, liquor and his cologne swarming my senses, and it only causes me to retreat into him deeper. I sense him breathing in my scent, and it makes me smile, knowing we both derived the comfort we needed from each other in that moment.

Finally, he mumbles against the top of my head. 

“Let’s get a cab and go home. Let me run you a bath. You’re so good to me.” He murmurs, still holding me in his arms like I was the last precious thing on Earth. 

I giggled against him, nodding. “Yeah. Yes, please.” I say, still a bit breathless, retreating from his embrace. “I’m surprised I managed to convince you to do that.” I remark, smirking a little, despite myself. “I can’t imagine how many germs are in an alleyway.” 

My boyfriend, of course, cringes. “Don’t remind me.” He says, squeezing my hand. beginning to lead me to the main road to find a cab. He then looks at me, a little smugly. “But I’d say it was worth it, right?” 

“Absolutely.” I respond, squeezing his hand back, a smile gracing my face. He smiles back, and I feel my heart jump.

I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like I’d won the lottery when it came to him. 

ahh! only got it out 1 day late. so that's good. hi! hope you enjoyed. nearly 4 people requested a part 2, so i hope you guys liked my take on the team "catching" them. any likes, reblogs, comments are so appreciated. thank you for reading. i am eternally grateful. ty!!! cannot say it enough

[penkura]

hey! how are you?

hope you're doing well :)

I wanted to ask, If you could pretty please write a one shot about Sanji and reader, I'm watching the Zou arc now, and I really want to know how it would be If reader was with him in the moment he finds out about the marriage and leaves the note, she would cry and beg him to stay or something, you can decide If they were already in a relantionship or not.

Anyway feel free to ignore it if you don't want, and take care of yourself <3

PS: sorry If something got wrong, english it's not my first language.

Omg the Zou arc, pain with Sanji geez. I'm so happy for this request tho, I've not written this scenario before! I had an idea for their relationship as soon as I read your message too, so I hope this is what you were looking for! I kept it open for a part two if you'd like later on as well! I hope you enjoy it!

You and Sanji had been close ever since Luffy recruited you shortly after him. Something about the blond had just drawn you in and he was glad to entertain you and spend his free time with you. Even when you’d sit and watch him cook in total silence, Sanji welcomed it, he was happy to have company and someone to listen when he started talking out loud about what steps were next. You learned his most common dishes so well that you were able to rattle off the directions yourself, causing Sanji to become smitten with you quickly.

You’d fallen in the same way, after spending time with and getting to know Sanji. Despite his perverted tendencies at times, you found yourself drawn to and falling completely head over heels for your crew’s chef. He kept somethings about his life before meeting Zeff from you, the most you knew was that he was one of five children and from the North Blue, you didn’t dare pry too much farther. You didn’t want to push him away and ruin the friendship you’d built with him, especially once you realized your feeling for Sanji were more than just friendly.

Not like you’ll ever tell him, if you have it your way. You weren’t going to make things difficult for not only you and Sanji but your whole crew too. You’ve become content to just admire and pine after him, no matter how many times Nami tells you to just say something to him about your feelings, you refuse to do so. You won’t make things awkward, not when everyone is focused on their goals and now looking towards taking down an Emperor of the Sea in Kaido.

“The main event is a wedding,” Bege takes out an invitation and opens it for Sanji to see, “Between the third son of the Vinsmoke family and the 35th daughter of the Charlotte family, Pudding.”

You were content until this new development. A tea party invitation and requirement from Big Mom, a wedding to a girl he’s never met, the last name he’s never once told you about. You just believed he didn’t have one, like Nami or Usopp, it didn’t matter to you if he did or didn’t. He’s Sanji, he’s not this Vinsmoke Sanji. Your mind is reeling as he flat out refuses the invitation, while your crewmates shout their disbelief at this situation, you can’t even seem to join them. Everything moves so fast, the next thing you know, one of Bege’s crew members has whispered something to Sanji that’s got him going rigid, being getting a pen and piece of paper to write something down. You don’t even notice fully that he’s taken and ripped a piece off it, ignoring the looks he gets from the others around, wondering what he’s doing.

While Sanji slips the note he’s written to Nami, you try so hard to finally speak but the words won’t come out. He can’t leave, he just can’t! He’s so important to your crew, to Luffy, to you, Sanji can’t just go off and marry some random girl he’s never met! It’s not fair, even though you’ve never made your feelings known to him, you have no claim on Sanji. You’re able to get back into focus as he speaks to you all again when he hugs you.

“Please know, I never meant to keep anything from any of you.” He grips your shoulder just a bit tighter than he has before, and that’s what finally gets you to speak.

“Sanji, wait! You…you can’t go! I…I lo—”

He stops you with a smile and placing his hand on your head, nodding just a bit. “I know…but don’t worry, I’ll come back…and then we can talk, okay?”

You don’t believe him, even as he forces the four of you out of Bege’s castle, giving everyone a smile and promising to be back later. He’s never lied to you before, why shouldn’t you believe him? You have every intention of running after Bege as he goes to escape, but Nami reminds you that it’ll be pretty hard to do anything when you’re still chained up like the rest of them. Even after the Minks free you, you want to go after them, but she stops you again, with a hug that finally makes you start to cry over not being able to stop him.

At least, until you feel the scratch of paper on your shoulder and realize that’s what he was doing, when Sanji gripped your shoulder tighter. He was slipping you a note separate from everyone, now you can take it and see what he was telling you that he kept from everyone else. You don’t read it until you’re back to the room you and Nami are sharing thanks to the Minks, and all it does is make your heart ache and feel like you should’ve done more, because now you truly don’t believe he’s coming back.

No matter what happens next, I love you. I’ll tell you in person when I come back.

You’re going to help Luffy get him back, your mind and heart are decided.

[dawnbreakersgaze]

All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡

Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well

Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.

That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.

At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.

But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.

"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.

You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.

You'd come to eat those words later.

The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"

Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.

Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.

When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.

Oh no.

Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.

Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.

And yet

4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.

Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.

This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.

So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.

The kitties had forsaken you.

It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.

Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.

Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.

Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.

You and your games would be the death of him, surly.

Round 6 is where his empire fell.

Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.

"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.

Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.

"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"

Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.

Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.

Wait, in battle?

This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.

"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.

It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.

With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.

Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.

Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.

His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??

He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?

The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.

Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.

"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.

You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.

Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.

"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ

[hard-core-super-star]

Random thought popped into my head but it's about vampire Kate x reader. What if reader was a witch of some sort who got her heart broken because Kate is an fboy and became terrified and left when she realized how much she loved the reader but came crawling back a year later because she needed reader's witchy help and they ended up casually flirting because they clearly still have feelings for each other and stuff

ain't that the kicker [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate x reader

summary: the morning after your late-night encounter with kate doesn't go quite as planned...and neither does the day after that or the day after that. [aka you and kate have way more issues than you thought]

warnings: none, i think?; did somebody order angst?; so much tension, you need more than one knife; i rob you of a longer wanda scene; cliffhanger ending because this got too long; weird vampire powers that are badly explained; very long dream sequences; a surprising lack of actual vampire stuff [i badly need to rewatch first kill]; idiots in love but emphasis on the idiots!

wodcount: 3.2k

a/n: hey everyone, my motivation was pretty dead for a while but, unsurprisingly, vampire kate brought it back! and before you all freak out, YES! THERE WILL BE ANOTHER PART! and maybe it'll be less sad and more spicy, who knows? anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me and my constant disappearing act. my second year at university is wrapping up so hopefully you’ll see more of me this summer ;) that's all i have to say, hope you enjoy <3

part one | part three | part four

* * * * * * *

Saying going home with Kate Bishop had been a bad idea would be a massive understatement.

You knew being alone with the heir of Bishop Security would come with problems but the problems all seemed relatively small compared to the continuous waves of pleasure you had been under all night.

To be fair, though, you never expected a grainy picture of you on Kate's lap to be part of that list of problems. You had expected some awkwardness from the charming brunette, the usual "we can't do this again" speech while actively making out in some random storage closet, maybe even some weird looks from your co-workers to further complicate things.

Your original plan had featured everything except you going viral overnight and waking up to the biggest PR disaster to ever hit Bishop Security. (Which is saying a lot considering the many one-night stand scandals Kate always finds herself wrapped up in)

You had so many ideas of what the morning after would be like but none of them included you waking up to an empty bed and a large pit in your stomach that tells you you fucked up big time.

Maybe it had been your fault, maybe you had been too naive for thinking you could really have it all.

Or maybe Kate was right. Maybe she had a longer list of enemies than you had been willing to entertain.

There were far too many “maybe’s” in your mind, an overwhelming amount of notifications on your phone, and you had no idea where Kate had gone.

You’re not sure how long you spend scrolling through Twitter and avoiding all the texts filled with unanswerable questions from your co-workers but eventually, you manage to regain control of yourself and get up from the archer’s ridiculously comfortable bed. You do your best to ignore how shaky your legs are as you get dressed, your mind unfortunately drifting to the night before.

You manage to find your way to the kitchen where there's a full spread of, slightly burnt, breakfast waiting for you. Your heart swells as you read the messy handwriting on the post-it note next to the biggest stack of pancakes you’ve ever seen.

Morning, sunshine. I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I made a bit of everything. Eat as much as you can, you’ll need a lot of food and water to recover from last night ;) - Kate

It’s impossible to stop the wave of relief that crashes into you after reading that.

As impossible as it feels, you allow yourself to believe things will be fine. That Kate will stick by your side after opening up to you about her supernatural abilities.

But the fantasy doesn’t last long.

You’re halfway through your breakfast when you hear the front door slam shut with so much force you briefly wonder if the hinges came off. It takes no more than fifteen seconds for the archer to appear in front of you, her shoulders tense and an unreadable storm in her eyes.

Her posture already tells you the answer to the question forming on your lips but you ask anyway. “Everything okay?”

She seems almost startled by the sound of your voice as if hearing you makes you real.

It makes the mess you’re both in real.

“No,” she sighs. “I have some shitty news.”

“Shittier than being called a slut by all of New York?” You reply, unable to stop the urge to make her smile.

Kate doesn’t fully smile but she does let out a small chuckle, her shoulders dropping into a less tense position as the sound escapes her. “Yeah…shittier than that.”

You should’ve known where the conversation was headed. Should’ve realized there was no way you’d be able to have it all. No way for you to continue with your life as if nothing had happened.

Maybe you are too naive because you truly didn’t see her next sentence coming.

“y/n…I have to fire you and we...we can’t do this again. This has to be goodbye.”

Everything crashes into you at once.

The realization of what you’ve actually done, the stupid ease with which Kate is cutting you out of her life, the betrayal of her practically kicking you out onto the streets. You’re not an idiot, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to keep your apartment, your humble yet expensive life in New York, without your job.

Without her.

“You…you’re serious? You’re throwing me out just like that?”

“It’s not easy for me either-”

“It looks pretty damn easy, Kate.” You scoff.

“You’re not the one who spent her whole morning getting chewed out by her mom.” Her words come out like an afterthought, like she knows just how badly she’ll fuck up if you hear the annoyance behind them.

Unfortunately for her, you hear her loud and clear.

“Oh, come on. That’s your excuse? You had one bad conversation with your mom and suddenly I don’t mean anything?”

She doesn’t reply and her silence only serves to stoke the flames of fury and resentment rising within your chest.

“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in the last hour? How many coworkers have tried to blackmail me already? Do you understand just how much of my life this has ruined? And you have the audacity to act like you have it hard?”

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about my life,” she spits back. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Katherine. If I didn’t know you, if you didn’t care, why the hell did you tell me your dirty little secret?”

She blinks, taken aback by the hard-hitting truth you throw her way.

If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t notice the way she nervously fidgets with her fingers or the way she bites down on her lower lip while she tries to come up with something to say. If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t know she’s hurting underneath.

You do know her, though, but knowing her isn’t enough if she’s not willing to let you stay.

So, because you do know her…you walk away.

It feels like giving up in the most infuriating of ways but it’s the only thing you can do. If Kate’s mind is made up, there’s no amount of reason that will get her to change. That’s another thing about her you’ve learned the hard way.

So you swallow your pride and walk away with no plan, no job, no way of supporting yourself. If you were a more spiteful person, you would have applied for a job at Stark Industries but instead, you do the second hardest thing you’ve ever done.

You restart.

It’s a bitter defeat and still, you pack up your things and pay an old friend a visit.

You had left Wanda behind after the Westview fiasco but she’s the only person you can think of running to after your entire life went up in flames. All it takes is one quick spell and the realization that a life without dark magic isn’t one you can live before you’re standing on the porch of her small cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Saying she’s disappointed would be an understatement, especially since she explicitly warned you not to fall in love with Kate Bishop. It’s hard to believe the witch knew about Kate’s vampire secret but you also wouldn’t be surprised if she knew what awaited you the second you left for New York.

Unfortunately, you had to learn things the hard way.

You could write multiple books on everything you’ve learned the hard way.

At the top of that list, though, is the true extent of a certain archer’s vampire powers.

It takes less than a month for Kate to reach you again…through your dreams. Dreams that feel far too real and leave you a tad bit more breathless than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

The first time it happens, you assume it’s one of Wanda’s new tricks, maybe it’s her way of helping you cope with what (or rather who) you’ve left behind. You think it’s weird but maybe a tad bit sweet and you make a mental note to ask her about it in the morning.

It’s not until you realize that you’re actively thinking that you start to worry.

To make matters worse, you’re inside Kate’s apartment…and she quite literally stumbles out of her bedroom to see you standing in the middle of her living room.

“Oh, shit.” She groans.

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. You know you’re just dreaming and yet it all feels so real. It’s like you can feel her eyes on you, hear the way your heart won’t stop pounding in your ears.

Your confusion must be written all over your face because she answers your question before you can even ask it.

“Yes, you are dreaming but this isn’t like a normal dream.”

“What the fuck happened to you not being a mind reader?” You blurt out.

You wait for that stupid smirk of hers to appear, maybe with a half-assed shrug and a semi-charming joke, but it never comes. “My dream, my rules, I guess.”

“That still doesn’t explain what’s going on.”

A beat of silence goes by before she sort of gives you an answer. “I can explain but you might hate me afterwards.”

The look in her eyes says more than you can possibly handle right now. You’ve never known Kate to be particularly insecure but all you can see in those blue depths is fear and insecurity. Fear that your feelings for her have changed, that you already hate her and never want to hear from her again.

Too bad you’ve never been good at lying.

“Try me.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up into a small smile. “Long story short, we’re bonded. That’s why we’re in each other’s dreams.”

There’s a bigger question to be asked but you’re still a little freaked out by how real this all feels. By how intense your feelings for her still are.

“But this isn’t like a normal dream, is it?”

“Nope, perks of having vampire powers.”

“So, you can do everything except read minds?” You can’t help but tease her like all the times before. “That sucks.”

“Shut up,” she says with an over-dramatic roll of her eyes.

A calm silence falls over both of you and you hate how normal it feels. How just like that, you forget your anger and the betrayal you’ve felt every minute since the day you left New York in favor of falling for her stupidly enchanting self all over again.

It doesn’t help that with every second, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller.

You don’t know who takes the first step, all you know is you blink and suddenly she’s standing right in front of you, those soft blue eyes of hers searching for the truth you can’t hide.

“y/n,” she murmurs, her hand tentatively reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

She’s technically not wrong, leaving because of her incapability to deal with her feelings was the last thing you wanted, but it’s not like you had any other choice.

She didn’t give you any other choice.

And now she’s here, staring at you with that wounded puppy look she so effortlessly embodies.

“I wanted you,” you whisper in response. “When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

She chuckles, the sound warm but nervous. Her hand moves to cup your face and her touch is so soft, it leaves you breathless for a moment. “Never, I’m too stubborn for that, remember?”

You can’t help but tease her as the atmosphere shifts into something more affectionate than you’d like. “How could I forget? It’s your worst trait.”

“Ouch. Is that how you treat your favorite vampire?”

“Aw, poor little vampire baby.”

You wait for her to make one of her usual jokes but she doesn’t.

Instead, her eyes drift down to your lips and your mind instantly goes blank.

There’s an endless list of reasons why you shouldn’t do it. Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it isn’t a bad idea. Then again…when has that ever stopped you from being with Kate Bishop?

It’s subtle but you lean forward just enough to give her the invitation she’s too much of a gentleman to ask for. Her eyes widen the slightest bit before she meets you in the middle, the space between your lips becoming nonexistent in the span of a few seconds.

You try your hardest to hold on to your self control, to not seem as desperate as you’ve felt since that first night, but it’s useless. Your hands grip the front of her shirt in an attempt to pull her closer despite how insane everything is.

You’re simply dreaming and yet you can feel every touch, every breath, every desperate effort to make your desires a reality. You would feel embarrassed if Kate wasn’t acting the same way.

Her lips leave yours only to trail down to your neck, her fangs instantly teasing the sensitive skin she finds. The anticipation builds inside your chest as she toys with you and it’s all you can do not to beg for more.

“Kate.” Her name leaves your lips in the form of a whisper that disappears just as fast as it formed.

All you hear is her sharp intake of breath before it all fades to black.

Your eyes snap open and you’re greeted with the absolute silence you’re starting to associate with Wanda’s cabin. All you can do is lay there in the darkness, your heart pounding in your ears while your fingers trace the spot Kate’s lips had just been on.

It had all felt so real and now you’re all alone again. It shouldn’t be surprising at this point and yet you still hold on to the hope Kate will come looking for you.

But she doesn’t.

All she does is haunt your dreams in the most literal way possible. She doesn’t come to find you and fix your many, many issues, instead, she simply appears in your dreams long enough to send your mind reeling without offering any solutions.

You wish you could hate her for doing this to you but you can’t.

You love her.

Worse than that, you love her more and more each night. Even though it’s not nearly enough to heal any of your wounds, and maybe it only serves to hurt you more, it’s definitely addicting.

Wanda offers to help you sever the connection between you and Kate, something about a spell she read in the Darkhold being her only assurance that she knows what she’s doing. You don’t fully trust her on that but you do consider the option for longer than you want to admit.

You reason with yourself that there are much worse things to deal with on a daily basis than highly realistic dreams, though. That being bonded to a vampire isn't the worst thing in the world.

And maybe that would be true…if the vampire in question wasn't Kate Bishop.

You don't know what possesses you to ask but the question slips out in the middle of another midnight rendezvous. It’s been a little over two month since you moved away from New York, a little over two months since you've shared these weird dreams with Kate, when you finally ask.

“What exactly did you do for us to be bonded to each other?”

The question must catch her off guard given the way her eyes widen in panic. “What?”

“You said these weird dreams happen because we’re bonded or something but you never explained how that happened.” You watch the brunette from your spot on the couch and impatiently wait for a response, for something that will help you make sense of everything.

She swallows back her nervousness but gives herself away due to the way she fidgets with the rings on her hand. “Oh, yeah, that…it’s because I bit you that night in my apartment…remember?”

Her awkwardness would be endearing if her response wasn't so damn suspicious.

“Yeah but you're a vampire, biting people is kind of your thing. You're not automatically bonded to every person you bite, right?”

A beat of silence passes before she answers, her voice shaking the slightest bit. “No that…that only happens when there are…certain feelings involved.”

It takes a second for her answer to click in your brain. For her sudden nervousness to hold real meaning.

The answer hits you like a train and it makes your blood boil like nothing else.

“Kate, tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means. Tell me you didn't fire me because you were too afraid of having feelings for me.”

“y/n-”

“For fuck’s sake, Kate!”

The sudden frustration in your voice makes her jump, hundreds of meaningless explanations forming on the tip of her tongue.

You don't hear a word she says.

You can't hear anything besides the pounding in your heart and the devastation that threatens to swallow you whole.

You always knew being with Kate would be impossible but this was something else entirely. This wasn't a lack of feelings between you two, this was too many feelings and too many miles of distance and not one ounce of regret from her.

You're not sure when you stood up from your spot or when she approached you, you simply feel her hand on your waist and the unmistakable sound of her breathing.

“y/n,” she tries again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so tired of hearing you say that.”

“I know.”

The last thing you feel is her lips on the back of your neck before you wake up. Alone. Again.

Wanda must catch on to your desperation because she brings up the idea of cutting your connection with Kate that same morning.

“It’ll only be temporary,” she assures you. “No offense but you need sleep more than you need Kate Bishop.”

“I’m a little offended,” you grumble in response.

Despite your reservations, and the voice in the back of your head that tells you running away again is a bad idea, you go along with her plan. She's right, after all. You definitely need some time away from Kate Bishop and her never-ending messes.

The spell is simpler than you expect and it, thankfully, requires pretty much no effort on your part and no weird liquids.

It does also bring the best sleep you’ve had in months so you can’t complain…even when you wake up missing the sound of the archer’s voice.

You still miss her every day and you're sure that won't change any time soon but you welcome the peace with open arms.

Wanda spends her time teaching you random spells while you help her build a nice flower garden in the backyard. It's weird but…comforting.

You could even get used to life out here someday.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself as the weeks go by.

Until Kate shows up unannounced and flips your world upside down again with those same soft eyes you fell on love with all those months ago.

[ozzgin]

Ozzgibz my lord may we have just one more crumb of pickle content pls pls pls🙏🙏🙏

Like I have an idea, reader as pickles mother🧐 like like like U wake up together after many many years

Not just a crumb, but an entire loaf! :D I will use this chance to finally finish all of the Pickle related requests I currently have. (At least I hope I haven’t omitted anything). So you may consider this a Pickle megathread, containing multiple requests put together.

Pickle Headcanons: A collection

Featuring Pickle and Reader: Pickle’s Mother! Reader, Pickle trying modern treats, Pickle and his newborn, Pickle x Student! Reader and Pickle x OP! Reader.

Pickle’s Mother! Reader

You wake up surrounded by heavy, intricate machinery and at a certain point it occurs to you just how long your slumber has been. Ah, that explains the peaceful, uninterrupted rest. You can’t recall the last time you slept this well. And, like clockwork, you hear the humans scream mere seconds after you stretch your rusted bones. A familiar growl jolts you back into action. Being frozen for millennia sadly doesn’t strip you of your motherly role.

With a groan, you rip the medical cords away from your body, indifferent to the frightened stares of the scientists currently unsure of your intentions. They needn’t be afraid for long. With the calculated movements of someone that has been doing this one too many times, you walk towards the source of ruckus and return with Pickle under your arm. It’s almost as if you’re wearing an invisible hero cape: the research team can finally relax knowing Pickle’s fearsome mother is here to keep him under control.

This arrangement now poses an interesting dilemma: how will the fights unfold under the watchful gaze of a protective, Jurassic mom? Should the fighters be worried about a vengeful counterattack if they’re too hasty with your son? The first one to test the waters is Retsu, and before he enters the arena you place a heavy hand on his shoulder, briefly guiding him aside. He nervously watches your gestures as you pretend to beat up an invisible opponent. Are you showing him potential punishments? Then you give him a friendly nudge and point to Pickle. Realization sinks in and he stares at you, wide eyed. You’re giving him advice on how to give Pickle a proper beating. Well, obviously. If they’re going to challenge your menace of a son, they should at least make it worthwhile. Rough him up a little. At the end of the day, it’s less work for you.

Pickle tries modern treats

Pickle would probably lose his mind with any carbonated drink or sweet flavor. He never had access to this amount of sugar, so I’m wondering if he’d think it’s poisonous once he becomes agitated from the abrupt intake. Nice, exquisite smell and a vibrant color that tempts him enough to give it a try. Next thing you know, the liquid sizzles in his mouth and he panics, but eventually settles down. Then his heartbeat increases and he’s squirming under the confused stares of the fighters (who initially offered him the drink), until Professor Payne points out his body might not be accustomed to our levels of sugar. The real trouble starts once he can handle the unhealthy snacks, because someone will have to stop him from overeating. (To be fair I’ve also never had a Baja Blast, seems less popular/available in Europe but it looks nice.)

Pickle unable to care for his baby

They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die and you certainly gazed upon a delectable bunch of recollections when the prehistoric man swung his massive body towards you, growling threateningly. They were hoping the fighters could keep him entertained long enough for you to feed the baby, but it seems his fatherly instincts (that he’s otherwise lacking) trumped his need for battle. Thankfully, he stops right before his clawed hand touches your frightened face. For the first time he sees his newborn eating, the puffy cheeks expanding with each gulp of the mysterious bottled liquid you’re providing.

Well, if all you’re doing is feeding his child, he might as well keep you around. You certainly don’t look like a threat, even less so than the men he just faced in the Arena. To the relief of everyone witnessing the spectacle, you get to live and handle the baby. Not like you have significantly more experience when it comes to taking care of infants, but with the help of the scientists you manage to ease Pickle into his parenting role.

All this time spent together has reminded Pickle just how much he misses the presence of a second parent. The baby likes you, you seem to be rather knowledgeable about these matters, and you’re extremely cute if he is to be fully honest with himself. The Jurassic man can’t help the faint smile gracing his features whenever he pictures it: you make a nice family, wouldn’t you agree?

Pickle x Student! Female Reader

You’ve learned to ignore the bewildered stares. Thankfully, this time, the only unusual sight consists of Pickle’s gargantuan size and nothing else. He’s dressed in modern attire and has since learned to behave better in public. You recall the first encounters, where an almost naked Jurassic creature kept following you around and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It took you several weeks to figure out he’s interested in you, and you eventually relented. Naturally you couldn’t have gone outside with a wild jungle beast donning a fundoshi and nothing else. So you did your best to instill modern customs into your new boyfriend.

And, for the most part, it worked. He’s sitting with you on a campus bench, politely waiting for you to finish your rough sketch. He enjoys watching your drawing process, especially if he’s the subject of the piece. A giddy feeling overwhelms him, almost as if he’s being physically touched with each stroke of the pencil. The fact that you observe him so carefully, and then somehow reproduce the image so accurately on paper…It entertains him greatly. Sadly he can’t return the favor. You’ve offered him drawing tools before in case he wanted to join your creative hobby, but there was no dormant Botticelli in his soul waiting to be awakened.

While he may not share your artistic inclination, you can at least be assured that no threat will ever reach your proximity again. His hands were built for battle and he makes sure you witness this truth on every occasion. No fight begins without your presence in the Underground Arena. As much as you feel for his battered opponents, the whole ordeal results in very neat action frames. You leave the matches with brand new batches of doodles. Who would’ve thought you’d find your muse in a prehistoric man? Additionally, if you ever need some extra cash, there’s always the option of delving into erotic art. After all, you have access to any reference you could ever need and Pickle would be most eager to help you.

Pickle x OP! Reader

@mariahvilla569

So this was a little difficult because I wasn’t sure whether Reader is overpowered in relation to someone in particular or just the whole Bakiverse. I went for a Reader who’s stronger than everyone else.

Pickle was very confused when he met you for the first time, standing in the audience of the Underground Arena to observe his match with Retsu. He was instantly smitten and was about to discard any intention of a fight to immediately pursue you instead, but he was stopped by multiple men forming a barrier before you and an angered Retsu demanding his undivided attention. He assumed you must be someone’s partner and therefore he’ll have to win his way to you. He couldn’t have guessed in a million years that you were politely allowing everyone else to have their fun before you swiftly cashed in your victory.

You did have enough grace to take your time with the prehistoric man. He doesn’t doubt that if you so desired, you could’ve ended the battle within mere moments; but just like the rest of the men, you wanted your fair share of entertainment. This way Pickle was also offered a sample of your exquisite skills, which made all the fighters before you fade into nothingness. Truly astonishing that a human half his size would tower above him in terms of raw power. He was left beyond impressed and his initial crush has avalanched into a full blown obsession.

Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean he can’t fulfill the duties of a protective partner. Consider it a way to efficiently save time, as whoever isn’t strong enough to get past him isn’t worth your precious time. Not to mention that Pickle has come to view your sparring sessions as a special form of intimacy reserved for him and you only. If you need to train, he should suffice as an opponent. There’s no one else as sturdy as him, and you’re always in a great mood after a proper fight, so he’d be an utter fool not to take advantage of it.

[beryll-bee]

honest thoughts

Summary: you are Rhaenyra's daughter and you drank too much wine because of Aegon so you are honest about what you think of your uncles, very honest

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader x Aegon Targaryen

You sat with Aegon - before each of you a goblet of wine. Your cheeks were red, your eyes glassy and your head confused. Apparently the alcohol was getting to you. Aegon summed it up best.

"You're drunk.", he announced with a grin.

But you just giggled. "If you say so, uncle."

As you continued to take the next sip, Aegon saw an unexpected guest approach you two. An idea came to him. Grinning, he turns back to you. He knew at that moment your head was so subjected to the alcohol that you were only telling the truth.

"So tell me, Y/N, what do you think about Aemond?"

Without considering your words because of the wine, the answer gushed out of you. "I think he looks incredibly good. I mean his hair is gorgeous.", you started raving about him. Aegon snorted in amusement. Then he glanced briefly at his brother - who unknowst to you just stood a few steps right behind you - with an entertained smirk on his face. Aegon lifted his chin while he leaned forward.

"What about his scar?"

For a brief moment you cocked your head thoughtfully before you giggled.

"Somehow it makes him even more attractive. Makes him look daring."

Aegon snorted again, then shook his head, grinning - while you still giggled and tried at the same time to drink your wine without spilling it. It didn't work.

After a few miserable attempts to take a sip of your wine, your expression softened. Now there was an honest, warm smile. "Even if I don't know what's shimmering underneath his patch, it doesn't bother me. He will always be handsome in my eyes."

You thought about his training session this morning.

"He is strong, skilled and respectful."

Then the laughing faces of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera shot into your head.

"He is great with his nephews and nieces. The little ones love him. He's going to be a great father."

In that moment you realized something. Something you were never really aware of before. That's why your voice was just as surprised as your mind.

"He would be the perfect husband."

The fact made you smile. You were obviously happy for him.

"Every lady can count herself lucky with him."

You looked back at Aegon. He didn't seem like he was expecting that answer. So his surprised expression made you laugh out loud.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond was still standing right behind you with an astonished look on his face. While he processed your words, his eye catched his brother's gloomy expression - even if it only lingered for a moment. It's been a long time since he wanted to do his brother a favor. But at that moment he wanted to give him the same one he had just received.

As you laughed, calm footsteps found their way beside you. So you looked up - to see your other uncle.

"Aemond!" you beamed at him.

"We were just talking about you. Come sit down, uncle.", you gestured to the free chair. "Yes, you are very welcome to drink with us, brother.", confirmed Aegon your invitation with a knowing smirk. For an instant Aemond just stood there next to you - looking deep into your eyes with an inscrutable expression. But your senses were so clouded at that moment, that you couldn't bring yourself to concentrate. And as quickly as the eye contact came, it disappeared again. So he settled down right next to you. Aegon immediately poured wine into his goblet and then in his own. Meanwhile Aemond turned to you.

"If you tell my brother what you think about me so openly, you should tell me what you think about him. That would only be fair, don't you think?"

You nodded immediately. Your gaze quickly darted to Aegon. "Is that alright?", you asked him. Aegon just waved his hand indifferently. "Go on."

Aemond saw what his brother was thinking - 'now comes the worst'. Aegon turned now his full attention to the wine in front of him. After all, nobody had a good opinion of him. Not even his own parents, he kept reminding himself with a melancholic expression. But Aemond's words were aimed at something else entirely - that Y/N would surprise them again.

Before answering his question you took a long sip of wine. Then your gaze went to Aemond. After all, earlier you were looking at Aegon when you talked about Aemond - so now you're looking at Aemond when you talk about Aegon. In your current state because of the alkohol, it made clearly sense.

"I think Aegon is just as handsome. But in a different way.", you declared giggling.

"I like it when his strands of hair fall in his face - I'd like to tuck them behind his ear.", you confessed with a dreamy expression.

"His smile is incredible. I mean, his real smile. I've only seen it once until now, but it surprised me so much. It was so different from what I was used to. He looked happy, almost light. As....as if a great burden was lifted from him at that moment."

A sad sigh escaped you.

"I wish he would smile more often."

Your hands traced the rim of your cup. Your initial carefree attitude started to fade now. You thought of the many times Aegon was found guilty and how he was punished.

"Sometimes his eyes look so lugubrious. In those moments I just want to hug him. Very tight. So that he feels there's someone, someone who cares about you."

It seems like nobody else does that to him. Or did. "If I were him, maybe I would drink as much.", you murmured, more to yourself then the two men right in front of you.

"He drinks and fucks.", Jaces voice came to your mind. You chuckled again.

"According to rumors, Aegon is very experienced with women."

You blushed slightly before your forehead wrinkled. You thought of Helaena. And Dyana, the maid.

"Unfortunately, there are also a few scary ones. But even if they're true, I don't think you can really blame him."

"Why?", Aemond asked.

You locked eyes with him while you spoke.

"I think he got not enough love - just like you.", you breathed.

Then your eyes lowered to the goblet before you.

"So he seeks for it somewhere else."

A deep sigh left your throat. Now you became painfully aware of what they actually needed. This time, you looked at both of them.

"I think you two need someone who loves you" - a genuine smile formed on your lips - "unconditionally. Not for your titles, your fortune or your power - for yourself. Just the way you are."

They just stared at you. What had started out as some distracting fun became an incredibly interesting insight. Neither one of them had even remotely expected that Y/N thought of them that way. It threw a whole new light on their niece.

As your uncles stared at you in complete astonishment, inside your head jumped one thought inevitably to the next.

Love. Marriage. Barrin Lannister.

Your stomach turned. Suddenly you heard your mother's voice.

'You will marry him. He will secure the west for us.'

Fear rose up in you. Hastily you took your goblet and drank it up. Immediately after you reached for the wine carafe, your hand shaking slightly as you poured yourself another drink. Drink away the fear. Enjoy the evening. In a few days you won't be here anymore. Tears welled up in you as you finished your cup. It dosen't work.

"I should dance, don't you think?", you smiled weakly as your eyes began to water. Maybe this will distract me enough. You were about to get up when the world spun around you and tipped sideways.

Oh.

The next moment you were lying on the hard ground, the cold stones beneath you. While everything was spinning, two figures scurried to your side. But you saw everything double.

As you tried to regain control of your senses, two pair of hands gently picked you up at each of your shoulder, so that you sat up straight. Everything turned again. You clutched your head, it should stop.

"You are to blame. If it wasn't for you she wouldn't have drunk so much.", a voice hissed.

"If it hadn't been for me, she would never have spoken so openly either. Besides, how am I supposed to know that she gets up so suddenly?", another voice grunted.

Your eyebrows drew togheter. Whatever they were arguing about, they should just stop.

Still disoriented, you drew out a hand while mumbling under your breath.

"Please, stop. Both of you. I'm fine."

After that there was silence. Seething silence, but that's all you could expect. So you closed your eyes and could finally concentrate on yourself. Only now you felt two warm hands on your back. It felt good. Secure. A small smile subconsciously crept onto your face.

It took a few moments so that you could see and think clearly again. At least for the amount of alcohol that was in you.

When you opened your eyes again, two worried uncles were sitting right in front of you. You snorted.

"You don't know how similar you two look right now."

When they both looked at each other in amazement, you couldn't help but laugh. But the two men in front of you didn't think it was funny at all.

Aegon was busy getting up on his own cause of the wine too while Aemond helped you standing. It must have looked pretty funny from the outside.

As your legs carried you again and your laughter died away, you looked at them. With Aemond at your side still supporting your waist in case you lost your balance, Aegon stood in front of you, his hand holding your elbow, ready to catch you. His front strands of hair fell in his face. Adorable. You smiled.

"I will miss them."

Aegon's forehead was wrinkled now.

"What do you mean by that?"

Your brow furrowed. What was he talking about? So you looked up at Aemond. But he also looked at you confused. Were you...were you thinking out loud? No way!

They must have seen your realization because Aemond asked again. His voice was stern. Allowed no contradiction.

"Y/N, what. do. you. mean?"

As you were lowering your eyes, they drifted inevitably to Aegon. His face spoke volumes. His grip on your elbow tightened.

You sighed defeated.

"Actually, I'm not allowed to tell anyone. Mother will announce tomorrow."

Nervously you looked at your feet. The words just wouldn't leave your mouth. Until Aemond's voice cut the silence.

"You will marry Barrin Lannister."

Your head shot up. Before you could ask he explained himself.

"I heard father talk about it but didn't knew in what context."

You swallowed hard. I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to! Without thinking, you pushed them away from you and ran. Anywhere, just away from here. Away from this marriage.

Unfortunately you didn't get far. The alcohol beat you. Before you could even realize you were about to fall again, you dropped against a hard chest. Aemond.

Hot tears welled up inside you. As you try to blink them away, you felt a larger hand dictating your hair from your face. Aegon. Under the thick veil of tears his face was revealed. His thumb gently stroked your cheek. That was it.

They fell. Big, hot tears ran down your cheeks. Even though you had hid them so well. Until now.

Without thinking, you threw yourself into Aegon's arms. Your hands clasped his chest while your head rested on his shoulder. You cried openly. Relentlessly. You let all your feelings out.

Meanwhile, Aegon stood rooted to the spot. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't expected that. So he looked at his brother.

Aemonds expression was genuinely surprised - and angry. Really angry. Because of the fact that Y/N were apparently forced into marriage. Nonetheless, he began to stroke gently your hair, his eye on your shaking form.

In the meantime Aegon followed his instincts in returning Y/Ns hug. He rubbed your back softly with his thumb while you cried loudly into his shoulder.

.

.

.

It took a while for your sobs to subside. Your head got heavy, as did your arms. Carefully you rested your head on Aegon's shoulder, so that your cheek rested against the fabric of his clothing. Your hands loosened their desperate grip, but still held him pressed to you. Yet Aemond's hand never stopped stroking your head.

It felt good, you thought as your eyes closed.

As the last tears slowly dried up, you realized what position you were in. You blushed. Slowly you freed yourself from Aegon's embrace, so that Aemond took his hand from your head too. Now you were standing right in front of them, your gaze downcast in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry...", you mumbled.

"You will not marry him.", Aegon's voice clarified - without going into your statement.

Your eyes immediately shot up to him. He looked dead serious. Then, he smirked.

"You will marry me.", Aemond announced - grinning down at you.

"This way we would follow an old tradition of valyria and reunite our families.", he explained further. "Nobody will be able to say anything against it."

You couldn't help but stutter.

"You... you would..."

He nodded in confirmation - while bringing a strand of your hair to his nose to inhale your scent.

"No Lannister will touch you."

A happy, relieved smile formed on your face.

"Thank you.", you breathed.

Aemond lowered his head in return. His voice admonishing. "But be aware that you won't throw yourself into my brother's arms like that again."

Your cheeks started to burn.

Before you could nod, Aegon forestalled you.

"We could share her, brother.", he smirked.

Your eyes went big.

"I mean, apparently she likes both of us. And you can't refuse your bride-to-be a favor, can you?"

Aemond's face changed. He's seriously considering Aegon's words right now.

You, on the other hand, were too shocked to react while your uncles decided over your head whether to share you or not.

"It's going to be a difficult marriage.", Aemond stated with a smirk. Aegons grin grew wider.

"Nothing we couldn't handle.", the older brother answered.

Aemonds gaze shifted finally to you.

"Or don't you want that, Y/N?"

Even though his voice sounded amused, you could see genuine interest in his eye. Your answer was crucial.

You hoped that the alcohol wasn't speaking out of you at that moment as you nodded smiling at each of them.

"I would love that."

[wildrangers]

Oh Captain, My Captain // Quinn Hughes

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Quinn's captaincy finally pushed me to write this story, which I've been thinking about forever but never actually nailed down. I just love neighbor stories. Hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: resolved angst (shocking, I know), mention of cheating (not Quinn), cursing

You knew that trying to get everything into your apartment in one-go was a bad idea. Now, you were struggling with your suitcases, backpack, and couple of boxes while fighting with your front door key. You blew out a breath, grateful for the coolness of the Vancouver air coming through the hallway windows.

“Can I give you a hand?” you heard a tentative voice ask from down the hall. You glanced over to see a dark-haired boy watching with a worried face.

“I don’t want to trouble you, I’ll figure it out” you responded, embarrassment flooding your system at how ridiculous you must look.

“You’re not bothering me, I offered” he replied making his way to your side. “Now, can I please take this box before you drop it?”

You chuckled at his comment, nodding your assent, “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m Y/N, by the way” you said, finally unlocking your front door.

“Quinn. Where do you want me to put this?”

You quickly led him inside, pointing down the hall to your bedroom. He set it down and returned to grab another box. “It’s really okay, I’ve got it from here.”

He paused in the doorway and scanned your frame, taking in what you assumed to be your now tangled hair, smeared makeup, and exhaustion, before shaking his head and grabbing a box. “I would worry about this all night, where does this one go?”

You sighed, finally accepting he wouldn’t be leaving until everything was in your new apartment, “Ummm that one’s the kitchen, I think.”

He nodded and you two fell into easy silence as the rest of your belongings made their way to their assigned rooms. By the end of it, you were annoyed to see that Quinn hadn’t broken a sweat while you felt like a drowned rat.

“How did you even manage to get all this into the elevator?” he asked, gratefully accepting the glass of water you offered him.

“I may have tipped the Uber driver 20 bucks to help me load it up” you admitted and he shook his head laughing quietly. “What?! I made the move alone and didn’t want to leave anything outside.”

“Fair enough. Where are you from?”

“Most recently LA but I figured if I’m up here half the time anyway, may as well try it out fulltime” you shrugged.

“You work in TV?” he questioned. Vancouver was known for having countless shows filming throughout the area at any given time, so it wasn’t a stretch he’d guessed your occupation correctly.

“Yup, I work as a script supervisor. I’m assuming you work in entertainment too?”

He nodded, gulping down the rest of his water before setting the glass back on your counter. “I’ll leave you to it, I’m two doors down on the left if you need anything.”

“Would you want to come over for dinner sometime soon? I want to thank you for helping me.”

“No thanks necessary, seriously.”

You shot him a look like the one he’d given you earlier which made him laugh and raise his hands in surrender, “Dinner sounds great.”

***

“Entertainment my ass” you mumbled to yourself angrily staring at your television screen. You were in-between shoots and were home more often than usual, leading you to mindlessly flip through channels for background noise before tidying up your place.  

Lo and behold, there was Quinn, giving a press conference about how overjoyed he was about becoming the new captain of the Vancouver Canucks. Quinn, who you’d been led to believe worked in the entertainment industry like you did. And while sports were technically part of the entertainment industry, he’d gone out of his way over the last year to ensure you didn’t realize the truth for some reason. Because, once the shock had processed, a quick Google search had provided more information than your friend ever had about his occupation.

You paused trying to process what you were feeling. On one hand, the joy and pride on his face was undeniable and you were happy for him. However, him seemingly misleading you for this long hurt. You sighed in frustration, glancing down at your phone to check the time, as you were expecting Quinn to come over later. As you contemplated what you’d say to him, your mind drifted to different moments you’d shared over the last year.

***

“I can’t believe you unpacked this quickly” Quinn commented, looking around your living room as you finished up in the kitchen.

“I sent my furniture ahead of me and packed minimally” you shrugged. “Most of my stuff is in storage in LA—once I’ve been here awhile, I’ll decide if I want to move everything here or head back.”

“What would make you go back?” he questioned, settling into a seat at the island.

“Mainly my boyfriend, Aaron” you sighed, thinking of your last conversation before your flight.

“He didn’t want to move with you?”

You shrugged, debating how much to share with someone who was basically a stranger. “We weren’t living together in LA so I thought it’d be a bad idea to move in together in an entirely new country where I wasn’t sure I wanted to be long-term anyway.”

He nodded thoughtfully as you set down the food, “This looks amazing, it’s been a while since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”

“Not much of a cook or just the long hours?”

“Bit of both” he admitted before you both dug into the meal. Conversation flowed easily between you but, more importantly, the silences in-between felt comfortable. You’d always hated when people filled silences with meaningless fluff so you appreciated that he didn’t try to force conversation where it had naturally lulled.

 “Can I be honest with you?” you asked, drying the dishes Quinn had insisted on washing.

“I’d prefer it” he replied, turning to face you, noting the change in your tone.

“I’m worried Aaron and I aren’t going to last” you sighed thoughtfully. “He’d wanted to come with me and everything in me just screamed no at the suggestion. He said he understood but I don’t know how truthful he was.”

“Have you thought about why your gut said no?”

You reflected on his question as you put away the last of the silverware. “I don’t think he’s an overly forthright person. I don’t think he’s a compulsive liar or anything and I haven’t caught him doing anything, but you know when you just have that feeling someone’s hiding something? I have that all the time with him.”

“I’m sorry, that’s a shit way to feel in a relationship” he frowned slightly and you nodded your agreement. “Want to get some ice cream? That usually helps me when I’m trying to ignore my problems.”

***

Since then, dinner and ice cream had become your tradition. Because of your schedules, dinner may be at 11PM but it was refreshing to have a friend where that wasn’t an issue—hell, it was preferred by him sometimes. During that time, you’d fostered what you thought was a close friendship. But now, as you nervously waited for your doorbell to ring, you were desperately trying to figure out how you’d missed this piece of knowledge about him.

You hadn’t cared how he consistently changed the topic whenever you asked about his work. You’d just assumed he didn’t want to think about it off the clock and stopped inquiring. You had never paused to think he was hiding something. You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn’s knock at the door. You took a deep breath before getting up to answer it.

“Y/N, hey! How was your day?”

“Uneventful, how about yours?” you asked, willing him to tell you the truth.

“Good, good” he replied, fidgeting with his hands. “Did you still want to hang tonight?”

You realized you hadn’t let him in the door, instead blocking his way with your frame when you normally dragged him in with a hug.

“I guess that’s up to you, captain” you replied, holding his gaze. The color left his face as he processed your words and took in your stony expression.

“Y/N, I…” he began but couldn’t finish. You nodded to yourself.

“I can assume today is a big day for you so I’m not going to get into just how upset I am. But really, Q? Misleading me? After seeing how much it hurt when Aaron did that to me?”

Guilt crossed his face, “I’m sorry, I just…”

You paused waiting for him to finish a thought but only silence met you. “Good night, Quinn.”

***

Quinn was still in shock moments after you’d gently closed the door in his face. If he was being honest, he deserved much worse. He ran his hands through his hair as he shuffled back to his place. Shit. He hadn’t even thought about how your split from Aaron would make his omissions even worse.

It had happened a couple months after you’d moved in. He’d been waiting for you to grab him on your way out the door for ice cream but your agreed upon time came and went. He’d worriedly made his way to your door after you failed to answer multiple texts and calls.

His stomach dropped when your puffy eyes greeted him. “Oh shit, Quinny, I’m sorry.”

Before he could tell you not to worry about it, more tears fell from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked, gently guiding you backwards into your apartment so he could close the door for privacy.

“Aaron and I broke up” you mumbled through your tears and he pulled you into a hug. He rubbed what he hoped were soothing circles on your back as your sniffles filled the room. It killed him to feel your shoulders shaking against his chest.

“Shhh, I’ve got you” he murmured a few times before you quieted against him. He moved a strand of hair out of your eyes when you pulled away from him. “What happened?”

“Well, I guess he resented that I didn’t want him to move here with me. And instead of just telling me that, he decided to start sleeping with someone else. The someone else he’d apparently already slept with fairly early on in our relationship before calling it off with her.”

“Holy shit, Y/N” he sighed, pulling you to him again. “I’m so sorry, what an asshole.”

“No, I should have noticed how much the move upset him or just let him come with me, I mean—”

“Don’t you dare” he said sternly. “You are not responsible for him being dishonest with you. And you were right to follow your gut and do this on your own—imagine learning he’d cheated on you while living together here? Or never finding out? Jesus Christ.”

A long silence filled the space as you processed what he said. “You’re right, this just sucks.”

“Would your favorite ice cream help?”

“I don’t feel up to going out right now, Q.”

“Let me get it for you. It’s nearly December in Vancouver, I think the cone will be okay for a few blocks” he pointed out and was relieved when it earned him a laugh and a nod. “You hang tight and I’ll be back soon.”

***

While you knew Quinn’s lies weren’t close to Aaron’s, it was pouring salt on the wound in a way that made you wildly upset. When Aaron had betrayed you, Quinn had been there to remind you with his presence and support that not all guys were like Aaron. That there were good men left and you shouldn’t settle for some asshole.

But for Quinn to have been hiding something this whole time? It hurt double—once for his deceit and twice for ripping open the Aaron scar. You’d spent most of last night moping but this morning when you awoke, that sadness had blessedly shifted into anger. Who the hell did he think he was? Had he seriously introduced you to his friends while they all knew you were being lied to? They must have known or else someone would have slipped up. And also, what the fuck? What a stupid thing to be lie about.

You were deep in one of these rage spirals when a knock rang out through your apartment. You threw the door open to see a nervous Quinn.

“Can I come in?”

Your only response was to open the door and make your way to the couch. A few seconds later, Quinn was seated across from you, seemingly willing you speak first with his eyes. But you’d be damned if you filled this silence, even if the discomfort between you stung.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” You met his eyes and could see his sincerity but it wasn’t enough.

“Why would you purposefully mislead me about something so inconsequential?”

“Inconsequential? This is not unimportant.”

“Why would I give a fuck about you playing hockey? I literally work with famous people all the time and couldn’t give a shit!”

“It wasn’t that I thought you’d care, it was that I’d finally met someone in this city who didn’t know who I was before even meeting me.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at you incredulously. “I know you’re not Canadian but you seriously never noticed how hockey obsessed this city is? How there’s Canucks shit everywhere?”

“I mean, I guess I never really thought about it and I still don’t understand why that’s a good reason to lie to me for the last year.”

“I’m not saying it was a good reason, I know I fucked up, okay?” his voice grew louder which made you raise an eyebrow at him. “Look, if you never want to talk to me again, I get it, okay? But please, just ask Petey or Brock what it’s like meeting people in this city so you can understand where I’m coming from.”

You scoffed, “You really think a good way to apologize and ‘make me understand’ is to remind me how all the mutual friends I met through you knew the entire time and just went along with it? That’s so fucking embarrassing! Everyone in on the joke but me.”

“This is not a joke, Y/N! God, all I wanted to do yesterday was share that moment with you. To have you in the crowd or at least be able to celebrate with you when I got home. And I know it’s my fault I couldn’t do that but fuck, it still sucked. And I didn’t know how to fix it. How do you say to someone ‘Hey I told what I thought was a white lie a year ago but I ended up falling in love with you along the way and now I don’t know how to own up to it?’”

His words hung heavy in the air but you had no idea how to respond. You had never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge that ever since New Year’s, your relationship had slowly been shifting from platonic to something more—because you hadn’t wanted to lose him. Now, you were losing him just as you were realizing he felt the same way. You shook your head before resting your face in your hands.

“Please say something” he begged softly.

“Q, I don’t know what to say. I can acknowledge in the grand scheme of life not being honest about what you do for a living isn’t earth shattering. But developing a relationship with someone over the course of a year, thinking you can trust that person because you know them inside and out, only to learn they were purposefully hiding something from you? Something that would have made absolutely no difference to you anyway? I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Then tell me how to fix it.”

“Yesterday morning, I would have trusted you with my life. Now, I can’t listen to a word you say without thinking you’re lying. How do I know you’re being sincere about wishing you’d shared yesterday with me? About your feelings for me? You’re making me second guess everything when you were the one who helped me keep going after Aaron’s dishonesty.”

“I am not like Aaron.”

“No, Quinn, you’re not. Which is why this feels worse. Can you please just leave? I need time to process everything.”

You were grateful when he obliged and shut the door quietly behind him but it also broke your heart a little to watch him leave so easily.

***

 Your mind kept returning to Quinn’s New Year’s Eve party. You’d been single for a little over a month by then and were slowly starting to feel back to normal. While you enjoyed your time alone together, you were eager to meet Quinn’s friends and know more people in your new city. Petey loved movies so you two had been deep in conversation, really debate, about various films throughout the night. Brock had brought his dogs and you eagerly shared photos and stories of your family dogs back home with him. You hadn’t noticed that every time you asked someone how they knew Quinn, they replied with ‘work’ before quickly moving the conversation along.

What you had noticed was Quinn’s eyes on you all night. His hand on your lower back when he checked in on you throughout the party. How he had stocked up on your favorite snacks and drinks for the occasion. How as midnight approached, he moved closer and closer to you.

Until, as you all screamed the countdown from 10 to the New Year, he’d slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. How his dark blue eyes shone in the TV screen light when he turned to face you as the ball dropped. How he had grinned at you with such joy as he leaned down and placed the most delicate kiss to your cheek before whispering, “Happy New Year, Y/N, thanks for ringing it in with me.”

And you certainly had noticed the butterflies in your stomach at the thoughtful gesture, the sincerity of his words, and the intensity of his gaze as hope bloomed in your chest.

***

Could you stop by?

Quinn’s heart stopped when your message lit up his screen nearly a week after his captaincy announcement.

He’d quickly made his way to your door, following your voice that called him inside when he knocked. He found you in the kitchen, the early morning light hitting your face in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey” he breathed out, unsure where to stand.

“Hi” you replied, smiling shyly. “I’m glad you could come over.”

“You are?”

“I am” you confirmed chuckling quietly. “I guess I’ll start…I want you to know that it still really hurts that you misled me. I understand that you didn’t do it maliciously but it still felt really shitty to find out about.”

“I know and I’m sorry, if I could do it differently, I would. How can I prove that to you?”

“Well, you can be grateful your friends care so much about you.”

“Wait, what?” he replied, confused.

“Brock texted me the other day. He ended up sending me a screenshot of the messages you’d sent him that morning. It was really sweet” you smiled to yourself, pulling out your phone. You showed him the text thread but he already knew what you were referring to:

Congrats, brother!!!

Thanks, man. Wish you were here to celebrate

Celebrate with Y/N….oh wait, you’re an idiot and can’t, never mind

I know. I really fucked up and don’t know what to do. How do you fix something you built on dishonesty?

You apologize and tell her before she finds out some other way. Did you lie to her about anything else?

Of course not

Then it wasn’t built on lies. Just own up to the small piece that was

“At least one of us has a brain, right?” he joked and smiled when you rolled your eyes at him.

“You have a brain, doofus, you just overthink things until you may as well not have one.”

He felt himself blush at your statement, taken aback by how well you know him.

“So, I knew at least one thing you said was true—you knew you’d fucked up and didn’t know what to do about it. And your final response proves that everything else was as real as it felt at the time. As real as it feels now.”

His eyes rose hopefully at your words. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you lie to me again, even about what color your underwear is, I will fucking destroy you, got it?”

“Yes, got it, I swear” he replied, tentatively moving towards you. You opened your arms and he gratefully pulled you to his chest, smoothing your hair down and gripping your waist.

He was debating if he had the balls to try and kiss you when you mumbled, “Will you close your eyes?”

“Ummm sure?” he responded, lips quirking into a smile as he did as requested. He heard you retreat to the refrigerator followed by a plate settling on your kitchen island.

“Okay one more second…now open!”

 On the table was a white cake with dark blue, Canucks colored lettering that read ‘Congrats, Captain Quinn! Love, Me’

“I know we couldn’t celebrate when it happened but I figured better late than never?” His eyes shot up at the worried tilt to your voice. He noticed you were fidgeting with your fingers, a dead giveaway you were as nervous as he felt. He walked closer, taking your anxious hands in his own.

“Thank you, this is amazing. I don’t deserve it, or you” he said sincerely.

“Well, that’s not for you to decide, is it?” you smiled and he couldn’t have stopped himself from leaning towards you if he tried.

He cupped your face as his lips tentatively met your own. He was surprised you were as timid as he was, so used to you taking charge. He gripped your hip with his other hand, pulling you flush against him, which drew a breathy sigh from your mouth that opened gloriously for him. Your tongues gently twined together as he felt your hands tangle in his hair. The kiss was slow and sweet but filled with so much promise it made his chest hurt.

He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he admitted.

“Me too” you agreed, pulling his mouth back down to yours. His hands were surer this time as they slipped beneath your shirt to rub your lower back. You matched his confidence with your own, gently biting his lower lip before pulling away. “But I also really want to eat that cake.”

Well, there it is my first Quinn story! I hope y'all enjoyed and I welcome feedback 💕 We are so close to hockey season y'all!!

P.S. Yes, I wrote this as Aaron Rodgers busted his ankle last night, oops, thanks for the name inspo, I guess lol

[p8rasite]

FINE.  ›  SUNG HANBIN ݃ 0612

synopsis.. where hanbin says it too often, he starts to believe he is.. until he isn’t.

muses.. roommate! hanbin x gn! reader

pantone.. angst & comfort ft. and they were roommates

cw + tap the mic.. self-doubt, reader kinda dislikes hanbin & mention of drinks + first zb1 writing let’s gaur! this was a mix of request & word vomit so i hope this is good enough 🥺 also new layout : @/stealanity & @/chiyuv

“no one’s here, come again in four to seven business weeks.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. as clear as it is that hanbin doesn’t want to entertain anyone at the moment, you refuse to let him be. not when he’s isolating himself within those four walls. not when you can just tug that handle and let yourself in.

so you do.

the abrupt bang of the door against the wall was slightly.. over the top, but at least it got his attention. well, more like his frown, but you can be bothered about the details some other time.

“what are you doing in here?” he mumbles, voice lacking its usual coat of vibrancy. this time, it’s soft and fragile, just like its owner.

you shrug your shoulders. “the kitchen told me you haven’t visited it in a few days so i’m checking in on you on their behalf.”

he chuckles, but even that sounds so hollow. another sign that he isn’t your roommate, but a shell of him. and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re even more a tad bit worried.

“may i?” you gesture to the space next to him, shortly receiving a nod. sitting on the floor—legs stretched out and back slouched against the wall—isn’t ideal, especially not when there’s a queen sized bed just a few steps away. although, given why you’re here in the first place, you suppose you could refrain from complaining this time.

(singular—you’re already stressing that before your friends can make assumptions.)

the two of you let silence wrap around you like a blanket, one neither of you seem eager to remove. you excuse your awkwardness by claiming you want to take in your new surroundings before moving further. to which, in fairness, makes sense because this is your first time in his room.

weird, isn’t it? living in a place where you’re familiar with everything but your roommate and his space. there were times where he left his door ajar enough for you to catch glimpses inside, but nothing could have prepared you to see it in its entirety.

so tidy, so cozy, so.. hanbin.

the young man in question fidgets with his sweater’s sleeve, a loose thread in particular. a translucent pane of absentmindedness hovers over his cocoa-tinted irises as he twists the material between his lithe fingers.

“i don’t know what’s missing,” hanbin gauges your reaction (seemingly blank, actually surprised) before continuing. “i gave everything i had to them, constantly tried to do and be my best self to make up for the things i lack, yet they still left.”

you nervously rub your palms upon your thighs, unsure where to pick up after such a heavy confession. there’s also that guilt that chews on your soul as you come to realize that this little mister perfect persona of his isn’t just for attracting people.

it’s supposed to convince those he loves to stay.

with this newfound understanding, you finally speak up, “them leaving isn’t on you.”

his brows furrow, lips slightly parting to reject your words but you lift your hand to cover his mouth. probably not the best idea, ‘specially not when he can just make muffled sounds through the makeshift gag, but it’ll have to do. all you need is for him to listen to you, no interruptions allowed.

“you gave almost all of yourself to them, which isn’t wrong—almost every person who’s been in love has done that. but that isn’t enough to make the relationship work because there’s two of you. now, either it’s a responsibility that they can’t or don’t want to face, which is why they broke up with you.

whichever it is, the fault still lies with them. and that, binnie, is why you shouldn’t be beating yourself up on this. yes, it’s okay to grieve what has been lost. but at the end of the day, you should acknowledge and accept that it isn’t your fault.”

you’re completely winded by the end of your speech, you don’t realize your hand had pulled away halfway through it. but then you notice the upward curve of his lips, and your eyes instinctively narrow at the suspicious sight.

“did i say something funny?”

he shakes his head and points out, “you called me binnie.”

..damn. you were so caught up in your rant that you hadn’t noticed your mistake. with a light hit at his shoulder, you grumble, “don’t read too deep into it, i just heard one of your friends constantly call you that so it slipped.”

“are you sure~?”

“yes.”

“very sure~?”

“..‘right, that’s the end of our therapy session. i expect you to pay me with a cup of karak tea later.” a groan emerges from the deepest part of your tired soul as you get back on your feet, backside sore from maintaining the same position for at least 10 minutes.

right as you’re on your way out, hanbin calls your name. intrigued confused as to what else he’d need, you take the chance and turn around. those busy fingers you noticed earlier? now they’re put together to make a unique heart gesture.

“thank you for keeping me company and opening my eyes to the bigger picture.” the warmth and cheeriness hasn’t been fully restored yet, but you can hear a sliver. and regardless of whether you admit it or not, you feel proud of yourself for assisting in bringing it back.

“no need to thank me, matters like this are why roommates were made.”

(uh huh, sure..)

❀ ... ⃕ not sure if i’ll make a taglist but feel free to donate to my kofi ! now, would you like to return to the masterlist? yes / no.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Not a Bad Holiday Season

Hey! I hope you had a great holiday season! I was wondering if you could write something sweet about Virgil and Logan after the secret Santa episode. No pressure ofc, Thank you you’re the best <3 – lapassemirrior

Read on Ao3

Pairings: none

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1225

“No, but that doesn’t work within the context of the other clues…”

Virgil smiles as he ambles down the hallway, listening to the soft mutterings on the other side of Logan’s door. From the sounds of it, Logan’s hardly stopped to breathe since he figured out that the newspaper wasn’t just a newspaper. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, before knocking on the door.

“Come in?”

“Hey,” he says as he steps through, “wanted to check if you—whoa.”

He thinks he can be forgiven for truly coming to a dead stop when he sees the fucking conspiracy board Logan’s got where his whiteboard usually is. The original newspaper is still on his desk, the eye in the hurricane of notebooks, pens, and paper strewn about, but he’s made copies of certain parts and pinned them to a corkboard. Fucking hell, he’s even got bits of red string connecting picture to picture—if he didn’t know any better, he’d ask if Logan were working with Roman or Remus on some film noir idea.

“Virgil?”

He snaps himself out of it. “Sorry, I, uh, I guess I’m glad you’re having fun?”

Logan’s face splits into an almost manic grin—shit, maybe he really has been spending too much time with Remus. “This is incredible, Virgil, I can’t properly express my gratitude until I’ve completed your puzzle. I have to ask: did you do all of this truly by yourself?”

Virgil scratches the back of his head. “Eh. I may have gotten Princey to help with some of it.”

Logan frowns. “Roman?”

“Well, yeah, he is Creativity too. And he’s—okay, I’m not gonna spoil it ‘cause it’s his idea, but he has this thing he’s doing right now that’s gonna be really, really cool when he gets around to showing it off, so—“

He trails off when he sees Logan still frowning at his desk. He takes a step closer, nudging him with an elbow.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It really is nothing,” he says, “I suppose I’m surprised that Roman would be willing to…help you with such a thing.”

Virgil frowns. The irritation that Logan had expressed when he’d first looked at the newspaper, the almost resignation he’d had when he’d immediately moved on, it’s starting to show in his face right now.

“L,” he says, trying to get his attention, “why is it surprising?”

“Well,” Logan huffs, adjusting his tie, “you know.”

”I don’t. Can you tell me?”

“It’s Roman.”

“Yeah. Creativity. Making things. Doing stuff for us.”

“For you,” Logan corrects, still not meeting his gaze, “not necessarily for me.”

That’s funny. As Virgil remembers it, Roman had been hesitant to help him at all until he’d told him it was for Logan. Then he was practically climbing all over him to help out.

“But perhaps in the spirit of the holiday, then—“

“Logan.”

Logan stops. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Virgil lets him, waiting until he’s put his glasses back on and sat down. He leans against the edge of the desk and waits.

”That was unfair of me to say,” he mumbles, “wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a bit.”

“I…didn’t mean it to be spiteful.”

“You sure?”

“…maybe slightly.”

Virgil chuckles, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you and Princey have your moments.”

“But I have those with everyone,” Logan continues, staring off into space, “even—even with you. When I didn’t realize what your gift was at first, I…”

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs when Logan’s breath hitches just a bit too much for his liking, “you’re okay. It’s—look, the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, it’s not fair of me to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.”

“And, uh, I think any ARG that loudly screams hey, look at me, I’m a big fucking puzzle kinda fails at being an entertaining ARG—“ Logan snorts— “so I don’t blame you for taking a second to get it either.”

Logan hums, leaning against Virgil’s side. His glasses squish slightly into his ribs and he turns to fix it. “You’re right.”

“And hey, you really look like you’re enjoying it.” He gestures to the board. “You got your red string out and everything.”

“Well, I realized that I could take notes on my computer or in the notebook, but…” He can hear the moment the smile curls up his face. “I decided I might as well have fun with it.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“Thank you,” he says, softer now, turning to look up at him, “I really do like the present.”

Virgil chuckles. “I got that. Glad you’re having fun. What part are you at?”

“Part?”

“How much of it have you solved already?”

“I’ve just gotten to the QR code you managed to hide inside the picture—how did you do that, by the way? No, no—“ Logan holds up a hand as Virgil starts to explain— “don’t tell me just yet, I’ll make a list to ask you once I’ve finished everything.”

Virgil just grins and holds up his hands, stepping back as he watches Logan get up and start working on something again. He wanders over to the board after a moment, looking at all the pieces. Shit, he knew Logan would be good at this, but Janus would pop up if he said he’s a little disappointed that some of the puzzles didn’t take him longer.

Though, he notices with a grin, it doesn’t look like Logan’s cracked the big one yet. That’ll be something to look forward too.

“But enough about that,” Logan says, “did you come here for anything specific?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Pat and Princey are making a fucking feast for dinner and they’ve asked the rest of us to put together a movie marathon. If you, uh, if you’re willing to step away for a sec?”

“Certainly. Give me one moment…” Logan scribbles something else down on the piece of paper and pins it to the board—damnit, he got that one too, he really is good at this, maybe he should’ve made it harder— “there. Alright, what is everyone thinking? There are a few generic thrillers that have come out recently, Remus was talking about a disaster movie—“

“Wait, they made another one?”

Logan rolls his eyes as they head out to the hall. “It’s quite a profitable genre, despite the rampant suspension of disbelief that’s necessary for full immersion, so yes, I’m sure they did.”

“I don’t know about you, but I think not having to think too much sounds like a good thing.”

Logan chuckles. “Yes, well, you’ve been kind enough to give me quite the puzzle to keep me entertained for a while.”

“I really am glad you like it, L.”

“May I be honest?” Virgil nods and Logan glances around, leaning a bit closer. “Even if it had just been a newspaper, I still would have appreciated it as it came from you.”

Well. Shit. Now he’s blushing. And Logan’s looking at him like that and yep, they’re going to find the others right now.

All in all, not such a bad holiday season.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[jwirecs]

RECOMMENDED ROYAL AU👑

hello, hello! here are my royal au - bts, nct, svt & txt recs! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers💝

requested by anon (unfortunately, i wasnt able to find a lot. so far i havent read any skz or atz royal fics. but these are the ones that i’ve enjoyed so far and are either already reblogged or in my drafts!)

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

The Crown That Is Ours || @taeshobipop​​​​​​🔞💕💔✅ (taehyung x reader)

↳ You never wished for it, but it was inevitable — an arranged marriage to a royal stranger. The Crown Prince Kim Taehyung. A year into your marriage and life still holds you firmly in its grip. How do you plan to steer through this mess when the public suddenly comes knocking at your door, pitchforks and torches in hand, threatening: “death to all who commit fraud!”

It’s A Royal Order || @alluringjae​​🔞💕✅ (jaehyun x reader)

↳ one of your royal campaigns became a success, and your bodyguard jaehyun was there to see it all happen. it’s only fair to celebrate, right?

Asks || recommended fics✅ (various x reader)

↳ (just an ask that was asking for royal recs and @eliphant​ was blessing us with some of their fav royal fics!)

Heir || @smileysuh​​​🔞✅ (mingyu x reader)

↳ As a princess, you’d grown up knowing you’d marry a prince and help him sire a number of adorable little royals. Truth be told, one of the things that had drawn you to Mingyu had been the way he’d interacted with his young cousins, children that would run up to him- and despite his princely stature, Mingyu always had time to entertain them, with a glint of adoration in his eye that had convinced you he was the one to marry- moreso than any of his older brothers.

I Found Love In Your Smile || @wonlouvre​​💕💔✅ (wonwoo x reader, also arranged marriage au)

↳ falling in love with wonwoo never felt so easy. however, when unforgivable truths test your relationship, you can’t help but think that maybe you were betrothed for all the wrong reasons.

Pomegranates || @idyllic-ghost​​ 🔞💕💔✅ (wonwoo x reader, also arranged marriage au)

↳ you, a princess from a doomed kingdom, have been arranged to be married to an heir of a much more prosperous kingdom. however, when you first visit them, you realize that you would much rather be with the heir's younger brother.

Saturn Without Rings || @dropsofletters​​​​ 💕💔✅ (wonwoo x reader, also arranged marriage au)

↳ wonwoo has had kingdoms, romances, endless studies, recognition and yet, with as much knowledge he has learned from life and books, he can’t figure out what it is that grows in his chest whenever he looks at soonyoung’s fiancé. the marriage is arranged, close to happening but not disclosed, and he knows the best and worst parts of her. she doesn’t like reading books, can’t speak in public and…how had the queen thought that it would be a great idea for a news reporter and a prince to get married? maybe, if that ring didn’t rest on her finger, things would be easier. for now, wonwoo will have to pretend life is easier with a new friend.

The Dark Prince || @etherealyoungk​​​​​✅ (dino x reader)

↳ The Dark Prince. That’s what everyone calls him. And every time I say it out loud, “The Dark Prince”, a shivers runs down my spine. It’s such a powerful name.

Disguise || @jjuxii​​ 💕💔✅ (yeonjun x reader, smau)

↳ the royal family never reveals their heir before they turn 20, they always wanted their princess to experience a normal life before they face royal duties. Y/N, a heir to the throne was sent to collage but in one condition, to never reveal her true identity. she was living her best life until she met choi yeonjun.

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[kirihotto]

Satisfying {BangChan X Reader 18+}

→ Warnings: Alcohol

→ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content.

→ Genre: Late night date

→ Summary: Picking up Chan from the Airport around 10 pm. He isn't tired and insists on taking you out somewhere for a date. Grabbing some dinner from a combinie he takes you to a bar. Where you get.. Drunk and say some things that others need nothear. Chan takes what you said to heart and asks you about it. In a rather.. flirty.. way.

→ Word Count: 2 474

Disclaimer: All members are face and name claims for the story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. All works are purely for entertainment purposes.

Published: 09/01/2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N: Lets just pretend that swarming an idol at the airport isn't a thing. Ok? Ok great. But really y'all. Give them sum space after there flights T.T]

“F/N! Hey!” Chan yelped, waving a hand toward me as our eyes met. I had spotted him before he realized I was here. Catching a small yawn from him. Though once our eyes met he was full of smiles. Chan engulfed me in a huge tight hug as he released a small sigh. Grabbing my shoulders he faced me dead on. Eyes filled with concern. “You weren't waiting long were you?”

“I was waiting for you to get home of course! But if you're asking about waiting here specifically. No, It was roughly twenty minutes?” I chuckled, teasing him a little. Chan had literally just gotten back from a tour. So I was here picking him up tonight from the airport. Seeing that sweet dimple smile again was worth it all.

“Ah good. This place can sometimes be a nightmare.” Chan sighed again. Seemingly like a worry had been taken from him. He hugged me again for a moment. While I took in his scent and warmth, after a long while away from him. Chan let go and grabbed his black suitcases matching his equally black attire. “Well then! Let’s get out of here!”

“Wait up!” I yelped behind Chan as he hustled off. Waving the members off with a hand, holding my wrist in the other. Reaching the outside of the main doors he stopped. As we both stared at the slowly darkening sky.

“Where did you park exactly?” Chan turned to me with a small chuckle. Still holding onto my wrist.

“Follow me you dork.” I teased, pulling him behind me in return. Leading us both through the cramped parking lot. Our car. Well. more like Chan’s car, but I drove it here to get him. Unlocking it and going to the back for his bags. Throwing in one suitcase. Then the next he set in ever so lightly. Taking my seat back in the driver's spot. I felt like spoiling him. Knowing he worked hard. Now was his time to relax. So I was planning to drive both ways. He hopped in the car moments after. Leaning back in the seat next to me with a sigh. “Let’s go on a date.”

“Wait wait. We haven't even gone home yet.” I assured him. Trying to shut the offer down. It’s not like I didn't want to go. But he must have been tired.“You must be tired from all that, no? It’s even getting late..”

“That’s true. Things would be closing soon huh. I’m not tired. Must be jet lag.” Chan shrugged, quickly shooting me a pleading grin.“If you're not too tired I have an idea.”

“Alright~ What’s the plan?” I sighed caving in. Just as my stomach growled.

“Well then! That’s our first stop. Food.” Chan chuckled a little.

“Where are we gonna be able to get food at this hour?”

“Combinie…?”

“Fair enough.” Then off we went. Chan stared off out the window or sang along a little with the quiet radio. It was kind of peaceful. The roads were silent and Chan's sweet singing voice from beside me. The street lights flashing by us as we drove. When we pulled up to the place it was nearly empty. We wandered inside going through the isles. Holding hands the whole time we shopped. It was so nice to have him back. Sure I was starting to get tired since it was late. But it was worth spending time with him. A little sleepiness wouldn't stop me. Chan ended up getting a lot more snacks than I had planned but we would use them anyway. We both decided to get different types of kimbap for dinner. Well.. not really dinner since it was going for eleven. Satisfied with our small shopping we went up to the cash. Putting everything from our basket on the counter. While I was paying Chan bolted out the door.

“Hey what are you-? sigh..” Before I could finish he was gone.

“That’ll be 55 000 Won please.”

“Right. Here, thank you.” Handing over the money I walked out with a sigh. Three bags nearly full in my hands. “Just what is he up to…”

Walking up to the car planning to reclaim the driver's seat, there he was.

“I’ll drive. Besides, This is my car~” Chan stated with a huge grin at me. He rolled the window down. Grabbing one of the bags from my hand. “Sorry I didnt help you carry em. I would have. But I knew you wouldn't let me drive any other way.”

“Fair enough. You sneaky little...” I hopped in the car on the other side. Chan already had my small plastic platter waiting for me in his hands. After getting buckled again he set it on my lap.

“There you go~ and here's mineee.” Chan stated after pulling the other tray from the bag. We both sat in the car with our chopsticks. Both trying the first bite of ‘dinner.’ Which was surprisingly good for convenience store food. “Mm~! So good. Wanna try some of mine?”

I nodded rapidly with my mouth still a little full.

“Alright alright! Haha! Here, open.” Chan giggled. He held out one of the rolls to me with his chopsticks. I finished my piece and ate what he had offered. In return I gave him one of mine. Eating in the car he finally told me more about his tour. Just how much him and the others were loving it. The stories of struggles and good memories. It didn't take us long to finish eating since we were both starving.

“So… How about a bar?”

“At this hour? Is anywhere even open?”

“I know a place. It’s not too too far from home either. And yes they're open until three for whatever reason.” He smiled over to me. Starting up the car. Which meant I wasn't going anywhere. To be honest, I wouldn't mind a drink. “You can rest on the way over if you’d like. Just let me know and i’ll be quiet.”

“Mm.. I may nap. Keep singing or talking.. Whatever. I missed your voice..” I stated in my now half asleep state. I guess the food was also making me a little sleepy. Shutting my eyes listening to Chan’s slight humming and the sound of the car. I managed to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, we're here love.” Chan whispered, his warm hand on my shoulder. Sure enough there was a bar right in front of us. The car turned off and the yellow toned street lights lit up the inside of the car. The chill of the cool air greeting me. “If your still tired and don't feel up to it, I can take you home.”

“Mnnngggg! No no. Just give me a second to freshen up.” I stretched sitting up in my seat. Pulling down the mirror from the visor I fixed my messy hair. Then I kind of realized. I felt under dressed..

“You look fine. Let's head in.” Chan smiled over at me. Just as I was about to get out there he was. Opening my door for me. Getting out I eyed down the bar. It didn't seem too busy and there weren't many cars around. I read the sign out loud. “The black cat.. Huh.”

“Yeah, it’s usually pretty laid back. But I can't guarantee. Just tell me when you wanna go home ok?” Chan looked at me with those sweet eyes. For some reason the gesture got me kind of flustered. He grabbed my hand and we walked in. Like Chan had said. It was.. Decently laid back. Much to suit the name, most of the bar was all black and dark woods. The slight plant every here and there. Though it wasn't a very big bar. Surprisingly enough the main drink counter was nearly empty. All the people were at their own tables. Chan went straight up to the counter. We took a seat at the tall black leather stools. We were greeted by a man with decently long black hair and sharp eyes. As soon as our eyes met Chan spoke. “Hey!”

“Oh, hey. It’s awfully late, what are you two up to?” The man replied.

“Ah, y’know just got home from a tour.”

CHAN ARE YOU NUTS? YOU SHOULDN'T BE TELLING RANDO’S YOUR FAMOUS!

“Hm~ Fair enough.” The man smirked.

“Oh! Sorry F/N this is Yoongi. And Yoongi, this is my partner F/N.”

“Nice to finally meet you.”

“Y-yeah.” I replied, my wind in a whirlwind of thoughts. I waved awkwardly. So. Chan knew this guy and this guy knows.. Me? This guy also knows Chan's an idol. Wow ok I guess I was kept in the dark.

“Anyway, I'll get two of the regulars.” Chan ordered the man.Yoongi nodded and grabbed a few things from behind the counter. Pouring our drink right in front of us. I don't know what his regular was but I was hoping it wasn't anything crazy high in percentage. It did smell pretty good whatever it was. Chan turned to me after his gaze was removed from the drinks being poured. “Sorry I don't mean to order for you. Get what you like. You just have to try this, it's amazing. If you don't like it, I'll drink it no worries.”

Just then he slid the drinks over to us. The ice chiming off eachother. Chan took a huge gulp and let out a satisfied ‘ah’. I followed his lead and tried a sip. It was quite strong but somehow calming. Refreshing.

“So? How is it?”

“It's good!” I admitted. Taking another mouthful. I was certainly a lot more awake now. We started chatting away properly this time. With me actually alive and replying.

“I was like ahh! We’re on in five! We couldn't find Han ANYWHERE!”

“Where was he?!”

I loved all the stories he told. Of a world I wasn't familiar with being a star and all. It didn't take long for me to finish the first drink and swiftly another was in my hand. Guess I needed a drink more than I thought. More stories from my mouth and Chan’s.

“Look at all these! Haha! Seriously, STAY is so creative.”

He showed me some meme’s STAY were making about their newest stuff. Of course the strange wolf edits of Chan were mixed in there. Then yet another drink a blueberry wine. I could feel myself losing my train of thought. Losing count of how much I had drunk. Other than the cups in front of me.

“Youuuu left me there. It was like what TeN minutes? Wooowww thanksS.” I wove a finger in Chan��s face. What I was complaining about was the last time we had sex. Or something along those lines. “ANd then. YOUuuu didnt even askk permission for that OtHEr stuff.”

“Yeah haha..” Chan chuckled awkwardly. Clearly he wasn't expecting me to get drunk this late.

“ANDDDdd Y’know it was liKE KinD of anNoyingG.” I poked at his chest a little. I was starting to draw attention. Not that I noticed but it was certainly happening. Yoongi, the bartender, was totally listening and held a small smirk aimed at Chan.

“I think they may be just a little drunk.”

“Yeah. Ok love it’s time to go home. The bill please?” Chan said sliding the little left in my last drink away from me.

“HeYYYyyy. CoMe onnn. At leaSt the AchoLolll was SatIsfyinG you meANYY.” Was it really THAT bad the last time we had sex? No. But I was drunk and dramatic.

“Pft. ahem. Here’s your bill.” Yoongi composed himself.

“Thank you. Sorry about them. I think they were a little tired as well as drunk. I’ll see you again.” Chan waved as I poorly did the same. Though I'm sure he was used to the drunks. We left the nice place, Chan basically carrying me to the car. A chill running down my spine at the cool night air. God knows how late it was. Chan put me in my seat like a baby and buckled me up with a sigh. “You really need to sleep huh?”

“Hehe~” Was the only thing I replied with. Chan got in on the other side and drove us home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(The ride you don't remember because you once again fell asleep. Chan was a little worried about what you were saying. He kept taking glances at you every chance he could.)

“Come here.” Chan grunted picking me up like a kid.

“Ughhhh.. My head.”

“Oh hey. You're up.”

“Yeahhh. We're back home..?”

“Yup. Here’s the bed.” Chan stated placing me down with a huff. Though he didn't leave. He hovered over me. His eyes were full of an emotion I couldn't read. As I was gawking at his beautiful eyes he leaned in and kissed me. Pulling away right after. “Was.. that ok?”

“Y-yeah?” I replied confused. Chan leaned down to my ear and whispered.

“This ok..?~”

“Yes..?” This time with a hitch in my breath. He knows full well the power his voice has over me. Again Chan moved lower. Leaving a soft peck on my neck.

“How’s that? Enough?” He asked again. Sliding his hand down my waist. I could feel his warmth as he inched closer and closer. “Is this alright..?”

It really made me realize just how much I was missing him. I caved into my feelings and burst out.

“JUST FUCK ME ALREADY!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around Chan’s neck. Bringing his lips on mine again. I could tell he was a little surprised by my straightforward demand. I let loose around the back on Chan’s neck as we faced each other again. Breath heavy. That’s when I realized. “Why do you keep asking love? You know I trust you.”

“Oh- You told me while you were drunk. The last time we-”

“GASPPP, NO! I DID NOT!! WHAT?! AT THE BAR??” Again I shouted in shock.

“Yeah.. you did and uh.. The bartender was listening..” Chan cleared his throat. Now I know why he was acting like this. The look in his eyes.

“No no. Listen. We talked about that before. It was no big deal. Sure I was a little disappointed but that's ok.” I began to explain. But Chan’s head fell low and I couldn't see his reactions.

“Just tell me. You want me to fuck you? Hard or soft? Fast or slow? Tell me I will do whatever you ask of me.” Chan stated looking me dead in the eyes. Eyes filled with lust and a cocky smile to match. My face turned a bright red. I pulled him in closer again.

“F-fuck me. I can wait.~” I replied slyly. But we both ended up laughing for a moment at the stupid remarks. Continuing to enjoy each other after a long while away.

[A/N:] Jeez gurl you demanding~  IK it's been awhile for a SKZ Fic. I've had so many ideas for other one shots for different groups so its been a while. IK this isnt suuuper great. But oh well. Bang Chan~