#Fluff and Humor

[plaidpajamallama]

You Revived Me Rhea Ripley X Jey uso

Chapter 7 Must be luck

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It’s been three weeks since she and Jey made up, and things have been good.

She started going to therapy last week, trying to get a feel for it, testing the waters.

Her therapist was a nice woman. She wasn’t comfortable spilling her guts to her yet, and she said that was completely fine. It was only her first session.

She tucked her feet under her in the passenger seat of the rental they got for this weekend. 

Jey had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her knee. 

She was excited about this weekend; it was her first money in the bank, and tonight she was in a triple tag match with Alexa and Stephanie against Roxanne Guila and Naomi, which would be fun. 

She and Naomi already agreed that whatever happens in Money in the Bank is with love, and they won’t let it affect their relationship. 

Her therapist said that was good she was already making some progress. Some months ago she wouldn’t have done that, but now? She didn’t know if it should’ve made her as happy as it did, but she was happy for herself; that’s what this was for—to help her. 

She was also excited because they both were on SmackDown tonight for the go-home show, so she got to see Damian. 

She was happy he was doing other things, but she missed her terror twin even if she was with him a couple of weeks ago. 

Jey caught her looking at him out the corner of his eye, his hand gripping her knee. 

You good, Mama? He glanced at her before looking back at the road. 

Yeah, she reached a hand into his hair. I still can’t believe you cut your hair; it was so pretty. 

He chuckled. You don’t like it like this? You can see my tattoo more. 

Mmm, I mean, I like it, but I liked running my fingers through your hair, she playfully pouted. That made him smile. 

Are you excited for today? 

Yeah, I’m just excited to see Priest and a little nervous for tomorrow. I’ve never done anything like this before. 

You're going to do great tomorrow, Mama. Money in the Bank is fun. Your masochist ass will love it, he laughed, causing her to hit him in the shoulder. 

I’m not a fucking masochist.

Mmm? He tilted his head silently, teasingly, at 

She scoffed, “I’m not.”

Ok, if that’s how you feel, Mama, then sure, you’re not, he said, pulling into the parking lot. 

She shook her head with a smile at him as he grinned, parking the car. 

They hopped out of the car, leaving Jey to grab their bags as she spotted Damian parked not too far from them. 

She ran towards him as he stood at his trunk, grabbing his bags out. 

She almost tackled him to the ground with the force she ran at him. Luckily, Damian was used to this by now, knowing to plant his feet. 

I missed you! She screams with excitement, giving him the biggest hug. 

Damian laughed. I missed you too, Rips. 

He broke the hug but kept an arm draped over her shoulder as they started to walk, and Rhea immediately started gushing about tomorrow. 

Wait until you see my gear; it’s going to eat. Well, I mean it always does, but tomorrow it’s bloody stunning; you're going to love it. Is this a new shirt? She said, noticing he had on one of his shirts she hadn’t seen yet, “I don’t have this one.”

Yeah, it’s new. It’s from Hot Topic. I’ll get you one. 

Good I’m going to support my terror twin if I can’t be here with you. 

He squished her close to him. I’ll be there tomorrow to watch you. 

She smiled and said thank you, looking back behind them to see Jey rolling her suitcase behind him and his duffel on his shoulder, following them inside. 

The LA heat was killing all of them. 

That walked inside, Damian holding the door open for Jey. 

"Thanks, uce. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a minute," he said, dapping him up. 

Not since Tampa, but that was work. 

Well, we’re hanging out before we have to leave for Raw. I booked us late flights, she said, the smile on her face growing bigger as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. 

Damian and Jey exchange a glance as she begins to walk down the hallway they were in, grabbing her suitcase for Jey.

I’m going to go, Naomi. I’ll be back. 

Alright, Mama. Jey said, looking back at Damian. She’s really chill about being here, if you couldn’t tell, he joked. 

Completely chill Damian snickered as they began to start walking down the hallway. 

How have you been doing? 

He groaned, running his hand down his face. Life as a champion, right? People want what you have. I like the chaos, though. 

Damian nodded his head. It's only been a month since you won, and you're already a good champion. I can't imagine how you'll be come SummerSlam. 

If I have it that long, who knows what tomorrow will bring? He let out a forced laugh, trying to find the humor in it like he always did. Right now I'm focused on that asshole and Cena. 

You can take an old man and a YouTuber. 

"I fucking hope so," he said, going towards where Cody told him to meet him while Damian walked in the other direction. 

He loved the chaos; he worked best in it. It made him a better wrestler, but this? This was a new chaos that weighed on him, and he was slowly struggling to lift it. 

He couldn’t lose this soon; he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eye. He didn’t go through everything he did just to lose now, especially now. 

———-

Rhea was sitting on a crate still in her gear from her match. 

The easy match was out of the way; now it was just tomorrow she had to make it through. 

She had never been in a ladder match before; she didn’t really know what to expect. 

Jey said they hurt and they were hard, but if she could win the rumble at number one, she could win her first-ever ladder match. 

Her feet swung as she held onto the edge of the crate. 

Damian came walking down the hallway and sat next to her on the crate. 

Are you ready for tomorrow? 

Yeah, I’m ready. You got any advice? Is there anything I should know beforehand? She asked, turning her head to look over at him. 

He thought for a moment it was so long ago he had to think about it. 

Make sure you grab the tall ladder; you don’t want to grab the short one and then not be able to reach it, and everything hurts one hundred times more on a ladder. Use that to your advantage, but also be careful.

Since you are who you are, they're going to team up on you, playing the numbers game. 

She was nodding her head the whole time, taking in every word he said. Ok, ok, ok, I got it. 

Matches like these are brutal. Rhea I know how you are, but be careful. 

I can’t be getting injured again. got things to win. She pointed at the monitor not too far from them that had the King and Queen of the Ring tournament on the screen that would get you a championship match at SummerSlam. 

She had never been a queen before; maybe she should try? 

As they sat there, they heard the crowd erupting. 

Well, I guess it’s main event time, huh? Damian leaned back against the wall. "Sounds like it."

It didn’t take long for the crowd to erupt again. the area slightly rumbling around them 

My man’s shaking the arena. She said, proudly joining him against the wall, 

Every time, and it’s only been a month. 

Mm-hmm, he’s the It boy, she stated, making them both laugh. 

It boy, huh? Damian laughed. "So, you're the It girl?"

I've been the it girl. You heard the crowd tonight, and this isn’t even my show. 

It’s all your show; they love you anywhere. 

That’s true, I’m beloved by all. She dramatically flipped her hair. 

Laughter filled the hallway as they watched Jey’s entrance on the monitor.

Jey and Cody leaned on each other as they walked out of Gorilla.

Cody, trying to calm him down, just felt the anger radiating from him. 

Tomorrow we'll handle it; we'll get them tomorrow night. 

He mumbled under his breath, not really hearing him.

This was the second time this week he got his ass handed to him, and this was the fifth time he got bitch-slapped by a bitch. 

He was angry; his body hurt every inch of it, and he still had a match to do tomorrow. 

That asshole wore his fucking championship. The image flashed through his mind. 

He didn’t just hold it; he put it around his waist like it was already his. 

He heard Cody’s voice, but he did not hear a single word he said. 

They made their way to the medic room, where they both were immediately taken care of, making sure they both weren’t injured. 

After a while they were told they were still good to be competent tomorrow, just to be careful. 

As soon as they were told they could go, Jey hopped off the bed and started heading back to the locker room, seeing Rhea and Damian sitting on a crate that she immediately hopped off when she saw him. 

You okay, baby? She asked with concern, carefully putting her hand on his shoulder. 

Yeah, yeah, I got checked out already; no worse than I already was, all clear for tomorrow. 

Good, are you okay? She asked, looking up at him, searching his eyes for what lay within them. 

He sighed heavily, running his hand down his face, his mouth twitching. 

She caught a glimpse of anger in his eyes as he sighed; she could hear the frustration in it. 

Can we go back to the hotel? 

Yeah, she rubbed her hand up and down his arm. Yeah, go get your stuff, and I’ll meet you outside. 

"Alright, see you in a minute." He walked away slowly, leaving her and Damian alone again. 

She turned back again to Damian, who was trying to act like he wasn’t listening to them. 

Hey, I’m sorry. I know I said we would do something, but Jey’s hurt, and I just— 

It’s fine. Rhea He cut her off. You don’t have to apologize; I get it. He jumped off of the crate. 

Make sure he’s okay. Let me know if you want to get breakfast or something in the morning. He pulled her into a half hug. 

Thank you for understanding. She wrapped her arms around his torso. 

No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow. 

She let go, standing in front of him. Love you. 

"Love you too," he said, ruffling her hair. 

She gave him one more quick hug before walking away. 

Their hotel suite door opened, and the light from the hallway made a path of light along the carpet, darkening and covering the rest of the room. 

The car ride back was quiet; she drove, making Jey sit back. 

Jey was like any man; he didn’t like to be seen as weak, he didn’t like to be in pain, and he didn’t like to—in his eyes—make her drive when he could, but then he would be in more pain, so she drove. She didn’t mind. 

She walked in, feeling around for a light switch, and once finding one, flipped it to light up the living room. 

Jey tossed his duffel to the ground with a huff, it making a thud as his championship inside hit the ground. 

Jey? She turned to him. Jey, halfway through the doorway to the bedroom, stopped at the sound of him naming his shoulder slumped. 

Are you really okay? And not just physically but mentally, she said gently, inviting him to talk to her.

“I’m—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. I don’t know what I am. I’m tired and hurt and pissed off because that asshole had the audacity to put on my championship. He slapped his chest, emphasizing his words. 

That I worked my ass off for, like it means nothing. He snapped, letting out all the frustration and anger he’s been holding onto from these past weeks. 

I’m angry because I keep getting my ass beat every week, getting tsunamized, speared, and stomped. He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand over his mouth down his beard. 

Rhea had her arms crossed over her chest, patiently listening and watching him start pacing back and forth in front of the door. 

I’m sick and tired of being told that my friends aren’t my friends, that I’m not good enough to be a champion on my own, that—that I can’t do this like Gunther keeps saying, right?

“I’m not champion material,” he mocked the ring general’s accent, “your friends aren’t really your friends.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. Everybody's talking about coming Monday. I’m done for either by Gunther or via Seth’s cashing in on me. He laughed, but there was no humor in it. 

Jey did that a lot. It wasn't new to her, but this time it felt different, and it reminded her of someone.

She studied him the way he held himself, his shoulders tight, his fingers flexing against his sweats, his brows furrowed and mouth twitching like it always did, but there was still something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. 

He was working himself up more and more as he continued not thinking before he spoke, just letting it pour out of his mouth. 

I know Punk isn’t always going to be there, and that’s fine, but Sami? He stopped in his tracks, looking at her. 

He’s my uce, my dawg; hell, he’s my brother. Shit ain’t gonna change just because I’m champ. He talked with his hands. 

"I-I," he took a breath trying to calm down so he could get his words out. 

I can handle myself. I didn’t ask for help. I have never asked for help. Do you know me to ask for help? He looked at her. 

She shook her head, mm-mm. 

Exactly, I've been winning shit on my own for years, but now I can't. He shrugged his shoulders and snickered again. 

It was ridiculous he was tired of always having a “when” added to his name. 

When was he going to lose? When were his friends going to turn on him? When was someone going to cash in on him? When was his title reign going to finally be over, when he was just getting started? 

He shook his head, grabbing onto the side of the doorframe, swinging his body inside it, and disappearing into the room. 

She could still hear him mumbling as he walked away. 

He needed to rant to get everything off his chest that he wasn’t ever able to. 

Now that it was over, she finally realized what it was that she was thinking of. 

Those pieces of “Crash Out Jey Uso” were slipping out. 

She had noticed that those pieces of him had been slipping a lot recently. 

In the way he dressed, talked, and acted, like tonight when Jimmy was just checking up on him and he snapped, 

The stress was getting to him, and his mask was starting to crack. 

————

Saturday, the day of Money in the Bank

Rhea was in the hallway waiting for their match. 

Her stomach was in a knot; her anxiety was through the roof. 

She shook her body out, trying to shake it out with it. 

Jey was leaning on the wall in front of her, copying her movements, trying to make her feel less anxious. 

You got this, Mama. You're going to go out there and kill it. You're going to go out there and climb that ladder and grab the briefcase.

She exhaled through her mouth, shaking her head back and letting her hair fall behind her shoulders. 

I’m so bloody nervous. 

I know, but you got this. You're going to kill it just like you're killing this gear, damn. 

She giggled, getting flustered. You've seen it before. 

On TV, not on you, Mama, that's different. I mean, shit, look at you; you look stunning. 

She watched his eyes drift over her body, having no shame in eyeing up his girlfriend. 

Gorgeous even, but that isn’t a new statement, Mama. 

She felt her face get warmer from his comments; he never failed to make her blush. 

He leaned off the wall, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him, making her meet him eye to eye. 

You're going to do great out there, Mama. 

I haven’t been this nervous for a match in a while, she laughed nervously, moving her hand in his to hold it. 

I know, but you've got this. What do you always tell me? 

She rolled her eyes, seeing that shit-eating grin on his face. 

"If you act like you're going to lose, then you will," she repeated her phrase back to him with a mocking tone. 

And it’s right, so shake it all off and give me a kiss before you miss your cue. 

Ok, ok, she gave him a peck on the lips, not wanting to mess up her lipstick. I’ll see you after. I love you. 

Love you too, Mama. Now go kill it like you always do. 

She smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek, leaving a black lipstick mark on his face before she walked away, heading towards Gorilla. 

Her stomach turned with anxiety; it always seemed to get worse before a match. She felt like she could throw up all the breakfast she and Damian ate this morning.

Her fingers fluttered against her thighs, picking at her fishnets as she continued walking, her big boots clicking against the ground. 

She reminded herself that it wasn’t the end if she lost; there were other ways to get where she wanted, and this wouldn’t be the end. If she lost, it would just be a block in the road. 

She stood in front of the big black curtain. In front, she took a deep breath, shaking her body out one last time before walking through the curtain. 

Jey, Jimmy, and Cody were all sitting in Jey's locker room watching the show. 

As all ladder matches go, it had them all on the edge of their seats watching intensely. 

The only moment when they calmed down was when Stephanie put Rhea in the Devil's Kiss, and Jey, without thinking, loudly blurted out, “Damn,” making the other two men burst out laughing, and Jey quickly tried to take it back, but it was too late; they were never going to let him forget that. 

But the show went on, and by the end they were all on their feet. Jimmy clutching to Jey’s shirt just because he owed him money 

And then she did.

Naomi unhooked the briefcase, holding it high above her head; the arena erupted, and they were erupting with it. 

Jimmy got misty-eyed as he heard the pop she got, seeing the look on her face sitting on top of the ladder as the new Miss Money in the Bank. 

Aye aye, uce, he put an arm around his brother, comforting him for a moment before he pushed him off of him, walking out of the room. He and Cody assumed the gorilla to meet his wife. 

Jey plopped back down in his chair, a proud smile on his face. His little sister had been trying to win that damn briefcase for 5 years, and she finally did it. He was damn proud of her. 

Rhea walked into Gorilla with a small limp. Her whole body hurt, even parts of her body she didn’t know could hurt. 

She saw Jimmy waiting there for Naomi. 

Hey, mate, she said, give him a hug. 

Hey, are you alright? He said, looking a little concerned, but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. 

Yeah, I’m fine. She did good. 

"Hell yeah, she did," he said instantly before he realized it. Oh, my bad. 

"You're fine, mate," she assured him. She deserves it the most out of any of us. 

Well I can’t argue with that now, you did good out there too he talked with his hands 

"Thanks," she put a hand on his shoulder. Well, I’m going to go make sure I’m actually ok and find Jey. Come find us after, she said, patting him on the shoulder before she walked away. 

It didn’t take long for her to find Jey; he was still in his locker room with Cody when she walked in. They were going over their game plan. 

Ok, and then if he does, they were—Oh, hey, Rhea! Cody stopped mid-sentence. 

Hi, Cody. She waved, leaning against the doorframe. 

Jey looked up, smiling, seeing her. 

Hey, Mama, come here. 

Oh, I don’t want to interrupt you guys’ planning. My stuff is in here, so 

You're not interrupting. Come here. He gestured for her to come in, but she didn’t move from the doorframe. 

You need to figure out your game plan, and I’m not going to be a distraction. 

He sucked his teeth. You're not a distraction. 

Mmm, I disagree. Once you figure out your game plan, come find me, but until you do that, you're stuck with your boyfriend. 

Cody snickered at that while Jey just looked at her, running his tongue across his front teeth, trying not to smile as she walked out of the room, letting the door shut again behind her. 

Jey sank down in his chair, his legs spread apart widely, taking a breath, still feeling that spark of pain from his ribs in his side, licking up his chest. 

He groaned softly, adjusting the way he sat, hoping that would help; it didn’t. 

Cody looked over. You good?

Yeah, uce. I’m fine. His ribs were just bruised; they had been since Monday, He took it easy in between then and Friday, but getting jumped didn’t help; they only hurt more, and he was only going to mess them up more tonight, but that was just how it was. 

Are you going to tape them up? Cody asked, generally worried about it. 

Nah, they know I’m hurting. I’m hiding it as long as I can, uce. 

And when we go out there, then what are we going to do?

Fight like hell and hope I don’t break them, he chuckled, only making them hurt more. 

———-

An hour or two had passed before Rhea walked back to Jey’s locker room. 

She knocked on the door, hearing him say, "Come in," before she opened it. 

Jimmy was sitting on the couch along the farthest wall while Naomi was standing in front of Jey, showing him her new briefcase in the same spot he was in when she left him. 

They caught each other's gazes when she walked into the room. 

They are both squealing very loudly, rushing towards each other, meeting in the middle in a tight, warm embrace. 

I’m so happy for you, she said into Naomi’s shoulder as their hug got tighter. You did amazing. 

You did amazing too. 

The room fell into silence as the twins watched these two women share a moment together. 

After what felt like forever, in reality it was only a minute before they pulled back from each other, both of them a little misty-eyed. 

You did great, Rhea. They were beating your ass. I mean, just like, damn, but you did well for your first 

You! You were beating my ass. She laughed, remembering her 

It was a free-for-all. You told me not to give you special treatment. Naomi said her words full of laughter. 

You didn’t have to slam my head into a ladder. 

I had to do what I had to do to win. Naomi shrugged. 

I respect that, but remind me never to get on your bad side because that bloody hurt!

Naomi giggled, grabbing her briefcase. Just proceed with caution and we'll be fine, she plodded down on the couch next to Jimmy. 

She chuckled, sitting down on Jey’s armrest. 

Aye, you aren’t going to have to worry about us; we’re going to proceed with caution. Jimmy nodded, putting his hands up.

Yeah, we don’t want that smoke. Jey agreed. 

The TV on the wall was playing Dom and Octagon Jr.'s match, the last match before the men’s Money in the Bank match, and then it was go time. 

Jey sat back in his seat with a short breath, that spark of pain going through his chest again, which they all noticed, looking towards him with worry. 

I’m fine! He snapped, raising his voice just a little louder than the TV in the room. 

You're not fucking fine. "Your ribs are bruised, and we’re worried about you," Jimmy said, giving Jey the same exact energy back he gave them all. 

Before Jey could respond, turning this into what would quickly become a fight with how Jey was already on one and Jimmy could quickly get on one, Naomi stepped in, telling them both to calm down, which the twins both huffed at. 

Whatever, uce. Jimmy said, sucking his teeth, 

Jey rubbed his mouth, looking straight at his twin like he was considering doing something he definitely shouldn’t do. 

Jimmy was staring right back at him almost like they would continue to argue, just not out loud. 

She and Naomi locked eyes, both a little worried about what was going to happen. 

She had even seen them fight from beside when Jimmy came back, but from what everyone told her, they got bad, and she was not trying to see what one was like tonight. 

Like Naomi could read her mind, she told Jimmy that she needed his help with something really quick and grabbed his arm. 

Alright, we see y’all. He looked at the TV. I don’t know, hopefully before your match, uce, he said, still with hostilities in his voice, but he was trying. 

Alright, Jey’s words were short. 

Rhea moved off of the chair, walking Jimmy and Naomi out. 

Naomi told Jim to go on ahead of her; she’ll only be a second. 

Rhea and Naomi stood outside of the room, the door partially shut behind her.

What the fuck was up with that? She asked, hoping Naomi had an answer, but she looked just as dumbfounded as her. 

I don’t know; it could just be stress, but then again, they never needed a real response to fight. 

"You think—" she looked back, shuttling the door all the way, stepping out into the hallway with Naomi. You think it’s just because of stress? 

Didn’t you say that Jey was starting to fall back into old habits? Stress was always a trigger for that, and it definitely doesn’t help with everything going on, so he’s always on edge, and Jim just pushes those buttons. 

Rhea nodded her head in agreement. I can’t wait for this weekend to be over. 

Me either. It’s been a long week but a good one. 

Most definitely when this is all done, we’re celebrating your bloody win, okay? she said, hugging her. 

We're going to get brunch and drink mimosas. Naomi said, hugging her back. 

Amazing, can’t wait. 

Naomi gave her a big smile as she walked away, following after Jimmy. 

She turned around, opening the door. 

She could feel the energy in the room shift once more. 

Jey was still sitting in the chair she left him with his head in his hands. 

She twisted the doorknob when she shut it so it was quiet. 

She could hear his voice in her own head rambling. 

It didn’t help that he was currently injured and could only get more tonight. 

She walked over in front of Jey. 

He didn’t look up at her; he stayed how he was, head buried in his hands, slightly hunched over in his seat. 

The top of his head pressed into her abdomen as she got closer to him, her hands reaching up into his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp. 

You’re going to win, baby, she started gently, injured or not, and you have Cody; you’re not on your own; you’re never on your own. 

She slid her finger and its nail down along the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down to the base of his spine. 

She was softly spoken. You know that, don’t you? 

He didn’t say anything, but his body language did as he sank down into her. 

Touch for Jey was a thing he liked from everybody; it was just how he was with his friends, but with Rhea’s, it kicked out all the doubt in his mind in that moment, replacing it with the overwhelming thought of her touch as she continued to drag her fingers down his neck over the top of his spine. 

You win tonight, and you win on Monday, and if someone tries to cash in on you, then you handle it if it happens, but don’t stress yourself out over something that might not happen, my love. 

His hands fell down from his face, grabbing the back of her thighs, feeling her warm skin underneath her fishnets. 

She whispered his name, bringing her hands back up into the hair. 

…..yes? 

She didn’t expect him to respond to her, but she wasn’t going to waste it.

I believe in you; I always do and I always will, my love, win or lose. She lightly grabbed his hair, pulling his head up with little to no resistance so his gaze could meet hers. 

He stared up at her with his big brown eyes, his hand still on her thighs, his fingers plucking at her tights, letting them snap back against her skin. 

The men’s Money in the Bank match is about to start. 

He barely nodded his head, saying a mumbling "Alright." 

She leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips; his hands gripped the back of her thighs. 

"You need to put your gear on, baby," she reminded him softly, speaking. 

"Alright," he inhaled deeply. It’s almost go time. 

Mm-hmm, now come on, I still need to change too. Maybe I’ll let you help me. She smirked, pulling away from him but not going far as Jey followed after her. 

————-

Ahhhg!

Jey yelled out in pain, lying on one of the firm beds in the medical room. 

His ribs hurt worse than before, breathing was harder, the pain was worse, and he couldn’t move as much as before. 

The game plan was for Jey to pin Logan, but after they went through the announcers' table, that wasn’t happening; he couldn’t get up, at least not on his own; he couldn’t even breathe. 

With each breath he took, a wave of pain went through his body; his shoulder hit the ground hard enough that it hurt to lift it high above his head. 

Jeff, their on-location physician, was trying to get Jey to stay still so he could check on him, but he writhed in pain. 

Rhea was standing outside the room; she couldn’t bring herself to walk into that room. You couldn’t pay her to. 

She knew they all did as soon as they watched Logan’s frog splash put Jey through the table; they knew he wasn’t okay. 

He hit it wrong. 

After the cameras cut the show ending, she went to meet Jey, but once she heard him yelling in pain, she couldn’t do it; her feet stopped moving, and her heart hurt hearing him in such pain. 

"No, I can’t," Jey said through clenched teeth, shaking his head back and forth. 

I need to check your mobility. Jey I need you to lift your arm above your head. 

Nah, nah. 

Jey, I have to. I know it hurts, but I have to, and if you work with me, it’s easier and it’s over faster. Jeff’s voice staying calm and steady 

Fuck, man! He slammed his head back. 

You can do it. If you get it high enough on the first try, then you’re good. You’re only going to do it once, so come on, just give me one. Jiff was being supportive, but Jey didn’t care; he couldn’t focus on anything else besides the pain. 

Jey, if you don’t do it yourself, then I have to make you, and that’s not fun for either of us, so I need you to try. 

Fine, fine, uce. He tried to take a deep breath in but couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. 

Just breathe, alright? We’ll push for just once, but if I get the sense it’s too much for you, I’m stopping, alright?

He always pushed himself, and Jeff did too, like he wanted him to. 

He nodded his head, bracing himself as Jeff placed his hands on his arm. Fucking shit 

He took one last deep breath before all his muscles tensed up, starting to yell out in pain again. 

10 minutes later 

Rhea walked into the room after hearing mumbling. 

Jey saw her and reached a hand out to her, pulling her to him. 

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"You scared the shit out of me," she whispered into his ear. 

His good arm snaked around her waist. I know it scared me too, baby girl. 

Are you okay? 

Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. 

She let out a sigh of relief. Thank God, I was so worried. 

He rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

She pulled back, brushing her hair behind her ear, blinking the tears in her eyes away. 

Jeff was standing at his desk writing something down before saying, "Here," handing her a pill bottle. 

I know you guys have things to do, so I’ll let you go, but Jey, on Monday, come see me. 

Alright, will do. I've got a post-show to do, so he started to get up slowly. 

She helped him up, putting his good arm around her shoulders before they walked out back to their locker room. 

She sat him down on the small couch, sitting next to him. 

He knew what she was asking for without even saying it. 

My rips are worse than before; it's harder to breathe now. He continues looking at the floor between his feet. 

My shoulder is jacked up too, not broken, but I hit it real hard on the ground, so I can’t lift it too high. 

Ok, when you’re done, we’ll get some food so you can stop hurting, baby. 

Mm-hmm, he stood up, tossing his vest to the ground as he slipped out of his forces. 

She could see the yellow-purple bruise on his right side that was hard to see unless you knew where to look. 

His face scrunched up in pain as he went to bend over, taking his gear off, but stopped halfway through. 

Rhea popped up off the couch, moving towards him. He pushed his hands away, replacing them with hers. 

He sighed, running his hand down his mouth. I hate being injured so much.

She motioned for him to step out of his gear. 

Makes me feel useless. 

She stood back up, tossing his pants with his vest. 

You’re not useless; you can’t get better if you’re causing yourself more harm, baby. 

She moved past him, grabbing him a pair of sweats and a shirt. 

She kneeled back down in front of him. 

Damn 

What? She giggled a little, thinking he was just being dirty. 

I’m really lucky; I’ve never had someone take care of me like you do. 

Her breath got caught in her throat, not expecting those to be the words that left his mouth. 

She cleared her throat, rising back up and pulling his pants up with her. 

You always know how to take a girl’s breath away, huh? She lightly teased, letting the band snap back against his waist. 

He huffed a laugh as she put his head through the hole of his shirt and then threaded his arm through his shirt. 

Umm, she took a step back, looking at him. You look fine, right? 

He turned around, looking at the mirror in the corner, his shirt covering half his chest a little more when he stretched it out. 

It’s going to have to. I’m not putting my other arm in. 

Just keep your title on the other side to help cover it a little bit, she said, grabbing it off the couch and carefully resting it on his bad shoulder. 

Jey glanced at the clock, seeing it was almost their turn. 

Aw, shit, Mama, I'm going to go.

Ok, I’ll pack up the rest of our stuff so we can leave when you’re done. 

Thank you. He leaned in, kissing her. It shouldn’t take me too long. 

Ok, I’ll be here thinking about what we’re getting to eat. 

"Aye, don’t limit it; we both deserve a cheat meal with the day we had," he said, walking out the door. 

————

Monday Night Raw 

The door opened to their dark, quiet hotel room.

Jey hasn’t said anything the whole ride back; the last thing he said was that he wanted to leave. 

Since then he’s been quiet, uncharacteristically so. 

Jey was never really quiet; even when he was mad at her, he wasn’t quiet—he always made some type of noise. 

But for the past hour he hasn’t said a word. 

They walked in, flipping on the lights, allowing them to see the room around them. 

Jey tossed his duffel on the ground that lacked the weight it normally had because he lost it. 

That weight on his shoulders was gone, and he missed it. 

Everyone told him he should wait until he was stronger and healthier.

But he couldn’t do that; he couldn’t just take time off. He was the champ. Everyone fought while injured; he wasn’t special. If they could, he could. That was his mentality going in. Now he was wishing he had listened. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his forearms resting on his knees, falling between his legs. 

Rhea didn’t say anything; she just let him be for a moment. Even Jey, as clingy as he got sometimes, wanted space.

She walked into the bathroom, flipping the switch on the soft sound of the air vent coming on as well. 

She pulled back the shower curtain, turning the knob all the way, and the water started to shoot out of the head.

She stripped off her clothes, letting them fall around her feet before stepping into the shower. 

The hot water hit the front of her body, already starting to wash away her sweat. 

She also had a match tonight, a Queen of the Ring qualifier.

She didn’t win. She was so bloody close, but then Raquel came out and stopped her from pinning Liv, but it didn’t do much anyway since Roxanne pinned Kairi to win. 

Her body still ached from Saturday and a little from tonight, but it was a good ache. 

It meant she was wrestling, which meant she was working hard, hard to get back to the top where she wanted to be. 

She was starting to learn that if she wanted something, she had to work for it, not just push and bully her way through.

She turned around, leaning her head back, closing her eyes, and letting the stream of water flow through her hair. 

She reached her hands up into her hair, allowing her hair to become fully saturated. 

Through the sound of the water rushing, she heard the door quietly open. 

She didn’t say anything; he was in his head still overthinking everything that happened tonight. 

She heard a faint thump on the other side of the curtain before she felt a breeze of cold air, then the feeling of body heat entered her space. 

She lifted her head up, opening her eyes, seeing Jey standing in front of her, his chest all blotchy and red, his sides still bruised. He avoided eye contact, looking down at the bottom of the tub. 

You did good, baby, really good. Even if you lost, you did so so good.

She pulled him closer to herself into the water stream, allowing it to run down his body as well. His hands traveled to her waist, resting on her hips.

I’m so proud of you even if you’re not a champion anymore. She reached up, caressing his cheek. 

She saw him fighting the instinct to look at her, his eyes flickering to hers for only a split second. 

Hey, look at me. The second the words left her mouth, they shifted to look at her. They were big and glossy. 

You did so good tonight, baby; that was one of your best, and you did it all hurt, baby, she said tenderly, looking up at him. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed a little as he swallowed hard, a burning feeling deep down in his throat. 

Guess it was just luck his voice went just above a whisper, cracking his eyes, filling them up with tears that threatened to slip over past 

She felt a twinge in her chest at his words. She hated that he didn’t think he was good enough because he was good enough. It wasn’t just dumb luck.

I don’t know what made me think I could beat him again. He warned me this would happen, and I didn’t listen to him. I never listen. His voice cracked again, his eyes now burning, waiting to let the tears fall, but he wasn’t letting them. 

She put both of her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. Jey, she moved closer to him, her body pressed flush. 

against his It wasn’t just bloody luck; you made him tap out. Only one other person has done that, Jey; you did that.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe Roman was right; I can’t be a champion. 

His voice broke as finally the tears started to roll down his face, catching them with her fingers. 

Her heart broke. Hearing him say things like that, she knew Jey could do anything he set his mind to. He was capable of so much. It was the fact that everyone for so long told him he wasn’t good enough and would never be good enough no matter how much he tried. 

That’s what stuck in his head. 

She wiped his tears as much as she could before he buried his head in her chest.

She petted the top of his head, feeling the tears on her chest get washed away a few seconds after they fell. 

She let him cry it out, cry out the loss and everything that came before. 

She kissed the back of his head; his hands gripped her waist tighter as his body jerked forwards as he broke out into a sob. 

She shushed him, rubbed his back, comforting him. She didn’t say anything; there wasn’t anything she could say. She just held him, continuing to rub his back. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed before Jey seemed to start calming down, his breath getting back in his lungs, his tears falling less and less. 

Before he pulled his head up out of her chest, looking at her

His brown eyes were still filled with tears, his mouth slightly parted open. 

My love She reached her hand to his face, wiping the last remaining tears from his cheek. 

"Rhea," he uttered her name as a whisper as he pulled her closer to himself. 

What do you want? What do you need? 

She understands what this was, and as long as he told her, she would give that to him. 

He was hurt and felt lesser than from tonight’s loss. He was too far in his head; he just needed another way to get out of it, another way to know he was still good enough in her eyes. 

Those were the ones he cared about the most. 

She repeated herself. What do you need? 

You, I need you.

You have me. She placed her hands on his chest as she leaned up, capturing his lips in a kiss. 

_________________________________________________

Is it really a new chapter if I don’t post in the middle of the night/early morning

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 149

This prompt has been filled by me! Anyone can write more interpretations and I'd love to see them, but if you're a reader, here's mine! https://archiveofourown.org/works/63921304

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

An alternate universe where everything is basically the same, except for that Witchers aren't taught anything about humans, and never truly interact with any. Witchers don't go into towns for contracts. Monster contracts are posted on boards on the outer border of towns. People must check back every day to see if the contract has a knife in it. If it does, it means the witcher is either out fulfilling it, or already has. The witcher will then walk out of the forest with proof of it's kill, you gift them clothing, food, weaponry, sometimes even a steed, and back away slowly. Geralt is a witcher. And the most monstrous of them, if you were to ask him. He has sickly skin, long unnaturally white hair, and those slitted yellow eyes of his. It doesn't matter. Roach doesn't care how he looks, and that's good enough for him. He's hoping this contract will give him some new clothes. He'd even take sewing supplies. His best shirt has a big gash in the sleeve. Which wouldn't normally bother him, he could deal with it, but Roach keeps trying to nibble on it. It's a contract for a bruxa. One that's apparently been causing a lot of issues for some "count." Disrupting parties and attempting to lure people away for the slaughter. Geralt has killed her, and has her head as proof. When he approaches the board with his proof, he sees two humans waiting for him. One of them sneers in disgust, and one of them gasps in horror, tearing up. Geralt presents the head, and then holds his hand out for his reward. The older human shoves the scared one at Geralt. The scared one stumbles as he's shoved, and looks up at Geralt with big, wet blue eyes. Geralt tilts his head and turns back to the older one. That one must be the Count. "Your reward, Witcher." "F- Father!" "Silence, Julian. I don't care what you do to him." The Count turns and leaves. 'Julian' looks at Geralt with fear. Geralt is used to that. Witchers are scary. "I- I thought Witchers only hunted monsters, why did you kill Emmaline?" "...This?" Geralt asks, holding up the head, and the human gags, but nods. "It was a monster. She was a Bruxa. A type of vampire." Julian stares blankly for a moment, before he erupts into laughter. Geralt doesn't usually see or hear laughter very often. He likes when this 'Julian' laughs! Oh, but the laughing turns to sobbing. "I should've known! Of course she didn't like my bloody songs! She liked my bloody blood!" The Julian cries, and Geralt feels awkward. He doesn't quite know how to make a human happy. This would be easier if Geralt were at his camp. He doesn't like being so close to a town. He needs to be in the woods. He scoops up his (apparently) Julian, and throws him over his shoulder and walks him back to camp. Julian is now sitting by Geralt's campfire, still crying, but now it's silent. Geralt sits down beside him. Humans comfort with touch, he thinks. He doesn't truly know. He awkwardly puts his arms around Julian, and it doesn't seem to working.... Aha! Because the tears are still coming! Geralt can fix that! Geralt leans in and licks the salty water away. Julian starts laughing again, and finally relaxes. Geralt did it! He's such a good humankeeper! Having a human around is difficult, but Geralt is quite happy with this new arrangement! Geralt smiles a lot more than he used to. His human is adorable, and he's funny! And Geralt is learning so much more about humans! But sometimes that's horrifying. Geralt learned humans need to eat every day, so Geralt has begun hunting more. Julian didn't tell him this fact, Geralt had to learn it by himself when Julian fainted one day. Geralt also learned that humans are delicate things. Julian tripped over a root in the ground and ended up bleeding! BLEEDING! Geralt nearly lost it, that day. He licked his scratch clean, and bandaged his human, and kept a grip on his arm the rest of the day to balance him. They're sensitive, too.

The night had a light breeze, or so Geralt thought. Julian was shaking, teeth chattering, breaths visible. Hm. Perhaps it was colder than Geralt thought. He drags the human over, making Julian let out an odd "whoop!" sound, and wraps his arms around him. Julian scoots closer before settling, wrapping around geralt.

Humans are also curious. Too curious. Julian followed him on a hunt once and almost got hurt. Geralt shouted at him, immediately felt horrible, and apologized, but made sure to let Julian know that Julian was the one who did something stupid. Geralt thinks about getting a leash to keep his human safe at camp, but he doesn't think Julian would go for it.

His human seems happy! Until he doesn't. All of a sudden he's walking slower, and constantly frowning, and he sighs every few minutes! It's driving Geralt crazy not knowing how to fix it! He's tried all the things that have worked before! He licked him, he hugged him, he let him pet Roach, he made him a bigger portion of food, but nothing is working!

"What troubles you?" "…Hm? Oh, sorry. It's just… I wanted to be a bard. Before." "Before?" "…My father.. Sold me to you, Geralt."

Oh yeah.

"…What's a bard?" "G- Geralt, you don't know what a bard is?" "No." "Why, it's simply the best career out there! At least for me. Bards make music. They travel the continent singing their sweet melodies and sharing their feelings and hope to every townsperson out there. Farmers and nobles alike love a good bard."

Julian twitters on some more about these 'bard' titles.

"How do you become a bard?" "Well, you need an instrument. I had a lute, once. And you write songs in a notebook or journal. And all you have to do is sing them."

Thus Geralt makes a plan. Geralt goes searching for these items, loots here and there, and he believes he has a perfectly functional 'lute' and a journal. Geralt has a journal. It's too full of monsters to be given to his human, though. His human deserved one just for his songs.

When Geralt gave these items to his human, his human started sobbing. Shit! But Julian insists it's "happy" sobbing??? That's a thing? Humans will also cry when happy? Geralt will take note of this.

Geralt's Julian is MUCH happier now! And he makes such nice noises! He sings for Geralt all the time now. He strums his lute, and sings, and when he's not doing that, he's humming, and when he's not doing that, he's excitedly chatting away to Geralt, and it all makes him so happy. His human is happy! He likes his little human friend. And Geralt now knows for sure his human friend likes him back.

"Though it hurt so much at the time, I'm so very glad my father gave me to you. I've truly never been happier."

It appears Julian's last humankeepers were bad at their job, despite being humans themselves. Oh well. Doesn't matter now. Geralt would never rehome him.

Thus comes Geralt's problem. Winter is coming. He needs to head to the keep. He can keep his human alive up the path, Geralt's sure of it. He's skilled in humankeeping by now. But the actual staying part is what scares him. What if when Julian meets the other witchers, he finds one that can keep him even happier than Geralt? What if Geralt loses his Julian!? It's just unthinkable!

[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up a little bit stuck and a lot bit hot. It’s just past sunrise, from what he can see out of the mostly-shuttered window, which means he’s just past late. Fuck.

“Nico,” he whispers, trying and failing to delicately free himself, “Nico, un-octopus. I gotta pee.”

He does have to pee. Moreso, he needs to wake up and leave, but if Nico hears so much of a syllable pertaining to his abandonment he will never let go. Ergo. Will has learned some creativity.

“Mmfggh,” groans Nico, maturely. He tightens his arms around Will’s waist and buries his face deeper into the (boiling, suffering, sweating, etc) crook of his neck. “No. Suffer.”

“Nico.”

“Sh.”

“Nico.”

“Sh. I’m sleeping.” Will feels more than sees one eye opening, eyelashes tickling his skin. He can guess at the glare. “Don’t you want me to be well-rested and healthy.”

“Right now I kind of want to flick you, honestly.”

Nico hides a smile along Will’s spine.

“That’s because you’re sick and twisted.”

“Mhm. Get off, di Angelo.”

Nico pouts but, finally, relents: he loosens his hold not enough for Will to roll out but enough that he can actually fill his lungs with enough oxygen to wiggle his way to the edge of the bed. Nico, as soon as Will is not glued to him, huffs and rolls over, smothering himself in Will’s pillow.

“I see how it is,” he complains, muffled. “You don’t want me. Fine. See if I hold you next time you come in here all needy and affectionate.” He shifts just enough to glare, once he’s sure Will is looking. “I’ll close the door in your face.”

Will rolls his eyes, smiling. He’s late, but he lingers a moment, tracing his fingers across Nico’s spine, his ribs; trailing along the reddened scratches over his shoulders and ignoring Nico’s nooooo leave them leave them as he heals them.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“I mean it!”

“Right. You meant it yesterday, too, and yet…”

“You seduced me,” Nico says, emphatically. He sits up quickly and catches Will’s hand, staring at him hard and serious — enough so that Will almost believes him, except the corner of his mouth twitches. “You — did some kind of spell fuckery on me, no doubt purchased from your various witchy sources, and all restraint — gone. Poof. And I have restraint in abundance, so obviously it was not my weakness.”

“Obviously,” Will agrees. “Not like you say my name in your sleep and wake up pouting if I so much as breathe near the door. ‘Course not.”

Nico goes pink. “I — do not.”

Will grins. “You do. Sometimes you try and kiss the air where you imagine I am.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Whatever you need to believe, darlin’. It’s not like I’m allergic to lying.”

He leaves Nico sputtering, cackling on his way to the ensuite. It is half the reason he’s dating Nico, honestly. How come Will’s cabin doesn’t get an ensuite? They’ve got like a billion people in there. They need it more than he does.

But, well. Will needs an ensuite to get ready most mornings, because he’s up before the harpies are cleared for the night, so he supposes he will just have to sleep at Nico’s more often than not. Shame. Tragedy, really, because he is just so attached to his twin bed that is not long enough for his legs. Too bad.

“I can hear you rearranging products in there,” Nico calls, still grouchy. “Cut it out.”

Will turns the last tube of hair gel so it is just slightly off-centred from the rest of the products. He smiles around his toothbrush.

“Wouldn’t be such an issue if you didn’t have so much hair shit,” he responds, spitting into the sink.

“You should have more hair products! Look at yourself!”

Will does not. He does not have a sister who continues to look judgementally upon his mess of a head and passive aggressively but lovingly gift him hair supplies for all birthdays. He also does not have time to do his hair. Less people should maim themselves for Will to handle all day, and then maybe he’ll do something with his hair.

“You think my hair is sexy,” Will says, walking back into the main cabin. Nico harrumphs from under the covers, notably not denying it, and stares unabashedly — not that there is much to see, since it’s still pretty dark out — at Will while he changes. Will slips on a scrub top and then walks over and pinches him.

“Ow,” Nico whines, rubbing the spot as if he did not try to hide the stab wound he got sparring from him yesterday. “You hurt me.”

“Mhm. You objectified me.”

“…Only a little!”

Will shakes his head, smiling, and leans down — holding Nico’s wandering hands away from the hem of his shirt, he has places to be and has been distracted enough already — to kiss him. It’s a challenge, pressing his smile to Nico’s pout, but very quickly Nico sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and Will can kiss him properly.

“I’ll come wake you up again around noon if you’re not already up,” he murmurs. “I have to open the infirmary, but then I’m practicing for the rest of the day. You’re coming to my game, right?”

Nico tries to slide his hands up Will’s chest. Will bats his hands away.

“Yes,” he says, mournfully. “I will come watch you hit a ball around with other such interested jocks.”

“Bring your pom-poms,” Will says, cheeky, “and I wouldn’t remiss a matching skirt.”

He pulls away to Nico’s snorting laugh, wiggling his fingers in a wave as he heads to the door. He hears Nico’s quick have fun, goober as he pushes the solid obsidian shut behind him and blows a kiss at the window. He stands on the veranda, stretching, and relaxes with a sigh, staring across the common.

Gods, it is early.

And cold.

He trudges his way to the infirmary, anyway, already anticipating tonight’s koala cuddling.

———

next

[vssail]

kiss it better | robin x reader

a/n: english is not my first language! // 468 words

again, this was going to be about jaybin, but it could fit any robin (maybe a little ooc for damian). choose your fav and have fun reading!

"Hold still" you hissed at Robin. Your anger from exhaustion was obvious.

He made the effort not to move, but he couldn't help but flinch after you applied antiseptic to one of his scratches.

"God, this could qualify as torture, you know?" 

"If I torture you so much, next time wake someone else to patch you up!" you half-hissed, half-yelled. Yeah, you were angry.

He didn't answer (there was nothing he could say back). You were right, he shouldn't have bothered you so late at night. But Batman wasn't in town, Alfred would be angry for being careless (just a bit), and he kind of missed you. So yeah, he knocked on your window in the middle of the night with a first-aid kit in hand.

You continued working on him in silence, and he took the time to study your face. Even though you looked tired, your eyes were determined on patching him. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. He didn't like the tension in your face.

While you were finishing bandaging his arm (it definitely took the worst damage), a hand rested on your cheek, caressing your face. With the other hand, he smoothed the crease on your forehead, trying to soften it.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," he murmured. "You should rest."

You left the bandages on your lap and placed a hand over his, still resting on your cheek.

"I saw you on TV," you whispered, a bit ashamed of what you were saying. "You were acting careless. And then I saw you getting thrown through a window."

He gave you a soft smile.

"Don't worry so much... your favorite Robin is safe and sound." 

"Not so safe and sound – that cut on your arm is terrible" you scolded. But a small smirk started forming on your face. "And who said you were my favorite?" you teased him, taking the bandages again.

He pretended to look hurt by that, only making you smile. The two of you continued with your own chores: you patching him, him studying the little smile still on your face. He loved making you happy. Both of you lost track of time until you finished.

"So... am I getting a lollipop after this or-" 

You cut him off, suddenly kissing the bandage on his arm. When you pulled back, you were greeted with a flustered, out-of-words Robin. He was completely still, frozen and red, his usual smirk gone.

"Robin?" you asked, trying to get him to Earth again.

"Uh?" he answered, but still looked like he was in another world.

You tried — really tried — not to smile, but it was impossible. The sight was too good for that. 

"Wh-What did you just do?" he babbled.

"...Kiss it better?"

He looked at you firmly.

"You're gonna be the death of me."

[pandapetals]

Chores

You try to get out of doing chores by flirting with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

"I love you," you said, standing on your tiptoes to press a sweet, lingering kiss to Logan's lips, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look as you pulled back.

Logan narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and amused, "I love you too, but you can't say that just to get out of chores."

You sighed dramatically, making a big show of taking the laundry basket from his hands. "Fine," you huffed, "though it usually works."

Logan’s eyebrow shot up, his smirk widening. "Does it, now? Pretty sure it never works," he drawled, crossing his arms as he watched you with that glint in his eye.

"Oh, please," you scoffed, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. "Usually, I just look up at you with these adorable, puppy-dog eyes…" You leaned in closer, batting your lashes dramatically, “…and then you fold like a cheap lawn chair."

Logan scoffed, leaning back slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "I do not fold," he replied, though you could see the hint of a smile breaking through his mock-serious expression. "I’m not that easy, darlin’."

"Yes, you are," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I bet you’ll fold right now if I try hard enough."

Logan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms, looking down at you with a challenge in his gaze. "Alright, then," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, rough tone that always made your stomach flutter. "Let’s see who folds first."

You grinned, accepting his unspoken challenge. You sat the laundry basket down. "Fine," you said, stepping up close to him, your fingers lightly tracing the collar of his shirt. "I’ll just keep saying cute little things until you’re putty in my hands."

He chuckled, though you could tell he was already fighting to keep a straight face. "Go on, then," he challenged, his arms still crossed. "Give it your best shot, sweetheart."

You tilted your head, giving him your sweetest smile as you trailed a finger along his jawline. "You know, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met," you said softly, batting your eyelashes. "All gruff and rugged… but with a heart of gold."

Logan’s lips twitched, but he held firm, his arms tightening across his chest. "Nice try," he replied, his voice sounding a little strained. "But flattery ain’t gonna cut it."

"Oh, really?" You bit your lip, pretending to think, then leaned in even closer, your face barely an inch from his. "Did I mention that I’m hopelessly, madly in love with you? That I think about you every second of the day, even when I’m supposed to be doing something else?"

Logan let out a small, almost inaudible breath, and you could see his resolve beginning to waver. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew you were getting to him.

"That all you got, darlin'?" he murmured, though his voice had dropped to a whisper.

You smirked, sensing victory. "Oh, no," you whispered back, reaching up to gently trace your fingers along the back of his neck. "I’ve got plenty more."

Before he could react, you stood on your tiptoes, brushing your lips along the line of his jaw, then murmured against his skin, "You know you can’t resist me, Logan. You’re already melting."

Logan's breath hitched, and he exhaled slowly, the last of his resolve slipping away as he dropped his arms and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, but his voice was soft, his eyes locked onto yours with that familiar warmth. "Fine. You win."

You grinned triumphantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. "See?" you whispered between kisses, "Told you you’d fold."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips quirking up in that lopsided grin. "You might’ve won this time," he murmured, "but don’t think I won’t make you pay for it later."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," you replied, your voice filled with laughter as he pulled you in again, his grip on you tightening.

[snowfieldstories]

your husband's husband. (iii)

kim dokja x childhood friend!reader

warnings: brief strong language, damn horny adults -- humor

w.c: 1.1k

a.n: did i write this instead of working on my current drafts? yes. do i feel bad for ignoring said drafts? also, yes. do i feel awful for delaying your requests and my own fic agenda? absolutely, certifiably, yes. lmao. enjoy this mini as crumbs of apology

summary: you finally meet yoo joonghyuk. it goes...well enough?

<- a new kind of subject pt. ii ⏱ untitled pt. iv ->

twenty-eight

"We should probably start searching for an officiant so we can finally get married," you mused. It had already been years of engagement, after all.

You and Dokja were walking hand in hand down the street, enjoying a rare moment of peace and solitude, until a certain constellation message stopped you dead in your tracks.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' confusedly asks if polygamy is legal in Korea.]

"...What?"

Dokja began scrambling at the formidable expression on your face. "No—What the hell? No!"

Your nose scrunched up. "Do you have another wife I don't know about?"

"No, I have no idea what she—!"

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' says that 'Kim Dokja' has a husband.]

The birds above were flabbergasted, the cockroaches below were astounded, and you were speechless. The air molecules even paused in stunned confusion.

"I. Do. NOT. Have a husband!" Dokja yelled frantically. "And I like women!" He pointed at you. "One woman! This woman!"

You crossed your arms. "You're protesting an awful lot."

"N—no, listen," said Dokja, and he whimpered your name in fright. "I really have no clue what she's talking about."

You opened your mouth to say something, perhaps to give him mercy, because you were only messing with him—

"Kim Dokja. Shut up."

A tall, striking man in black was striding towards you both, holding a sword in his hand. There was a furious expression on his face, and your lip curled in disgust as you noticed that fury was directed at your darling fiancé. "Your irritating voice can be heard down the street."

"And who the hell are you?" you said angrily. "I should kill you."

The man glared at you, and his knuckles clenched on the handle of his sword.

"Don't speak to him that way," you added for good measure.

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Dokja rushed to shield you in his arms the moment the sword lifted.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' declares that this is 'Kim Dokja's' husband!]

All of you froze.

"What."

It was the sword-man. He looked shocked, disbelieving that this message might be referring to himself.

"Ah," you poked your head around Dokja's stupefied form, "so now I really have to kill you."

But the man ignored you, and he trembled with rage as he shouted up at the sky, "I HAVE NO INTEREST IN MEN!"

The sky merely shrugged back at him.

"Dokja," you looked at him. "Who is this jerk-faced asshole?"

Dokja gulped at you with a conflicted expression.

"...Yoo Joonghyuk," he mumbled. Then he addressed the man loudly, "Yoo Joonghyuk, have you been telling people we're married? Lying is a sin, you know."

Yoo...Joonghyuk?!

Your mouth popped open with a gasp.

"Kim Dokja."

Yoo Joonghyuk's voice was low and threatening as he raised his sword, as if ready to run you both through at once. You tensed, prepared to defend your beloved with all your might both physically and verbally, when the regressor turned his attention back to you.

"Who is this?" Yoo Joonghyuk looked…uncomfortable. It seemed he was hellbent on avoiding the topic of being called your fiancé's husband.

You smirked.

"The other woman," you sang. "I came first, actually, but I don't mind sharing with my fiancé's husband! Especially since we didn't know about each other until now."

You batted your eyelashes at him, and his glower was heated enough to burn you to a crisp.

Then he gave a frustrated grunt and looked at Dokja. "She's just as annoying as you."

"Hey!" Dokja spat at Yoo Joonghyuk, before he turned to you, shaking your shoulders insistently. "Don't call yourself that. I'm marrying you, not him."

"It's okay to be with a man, Dokja," you said solemnly. "This is a progressive world; husbands can have husbands."

"Stop saying—every time you say that word I want to vomit."

"What, 'husband'?"

Dokja grimaced.

"What if I say you're my husband?" You leaned in, lips teasing the side of his jaw. He inhaled sharply and gripped your waist.

"That..." Dokja sighed when your lips brushed his skin. "That's...acceptable."

"Oh? Just 'acceptable'?"

You tried to pull away but Dokja drew you back tight against him. His breath was hot on your face. "It's preferred. Actually, how about you only call me that from now on?"

"Mmm," you hummed with a smile, moving closer.

A retching noise caused you both to look over.

Yoo Joonghyuk seemed on the verge of vomiting himself. He leveled you both with a ferocious glare. "Fucking disgusting."

You rolled your eyes. "You say that like you weren't married once, virgin."

"I am not a—!" His incensed tone choked, and he demanded, "How did you know I was married before?"

You pursed your lips, unsure of what information Dokja had let slip about the world and the novel already.

Yoo Joonghyuk looked between you and Dokja rapidly. "Are you also a prophet?"

You ignored Dokja's warning squeeze. "Yep!"

The horrified look in Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes intensified at your confirmation.

Then all the emotion drained from his face, and he turned away and faintly said, "There's two."

...Somehow, you were pretty sure he wasn't talking about prophets.

A tentative trio was formed as the three of you sat, waiting for your other companions to arrive at the meeting location. You leaned back against Dokja's chest as he held you.

Yoo Joonghyuk was pointedly looking away. There was a deep frown on his face, so you called out to him.

"You should smile more," you said after he met your gaze. "That angry expression makes you uglier."

Yoo Joonghyuk's expression only contorted further. Ah, but he is somewhat of a prideful and shallow guy, you noted as he worked his jaw and blinked quickly, a seeming attempt to smooth out the wrinkles.

Dokja groaned and tucked his face behind your neck. "He's going to murder you eventually," he despaired.

"That's why I'm going to kill his spirit first."

Dokja's arms squeezed against your stomach. You felt his lips press into your skin. "I have no doubt that you can."

"…Are you insulting me?"

It took a great many kisses (Yoo Joonghyuk's crotchety presence be damned) and groveling apologies until you "forgave" Kim Dokja. Of course, you had already forgiven him to begin with—

But you so dearly loved his kisses.

[dreamcubed]

paper rings | fred weasley x reader

song; paper rings [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x fem!rich!pureblood!reader genre; forbidden love, s2l word count; 4k timeline; goblet of fire —> order of the phoenix warnings; swearing, strict parents, fake friends, references to severe injury, slight discrimination of muggle-borns summary; you and fred were from different worlds, and in your family's eyes never should have crossed paths— but after a surprising interaction, an off-script story unfolds

this is the penultimate piece of the lover anthology!!

masterlist

"i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings."

———————————————————

One of the many luxuries that your family's status and wealth could provide was coveted seats at the Quidditch World Cup when it took place in England. And, after indulging in the enthusiasm of the crowd and countless souvenirs, you made your way back to your spacious tent with your parents feeling rather giddy. You were camping— although, with the quality and amenities of your set-up, it was more like glamping— in a more expensive and less crowded section, along with other wealthy families. So, as you settled into your double bed, you were confused at the sense of unease rippling inside of you. Still, you brushed it aside as adrenaline from the match, and finally cosied into a somewhat restless sleep.

When you woke up to the sound of screams and explosions, you realised that your instincts had been spot on, and shot out of bed to find your parents. They were hurrying out of their separate rooms just as you did, and your father quickly moved to peek out the door.

His face quickly paled, "Death eaters," he said hoarsely, and your mother gasped.

While your parents would probably never allow you to marry a muggle-born, it was not to say they didn't consider them as true witches and wizards. They were completely against You-Know-Who and his disciples— they simply didn't want their centuries-old bloodline tainted. In itself, it was still questionable, but you knew that you were lucky compared to other status households.

"Y/N, grab your wand," your father ordered, "We have to leave."

Your mother interjected, "We're pure bloods, they won't—"

"It's dark outside, they won't stop and assess who each person is," your father snapped back, moving to fetch his own wand, "Besides, they're starting fires. Wands, now."

You did as your father said, and pulled your shoes on in the process, readying to leave.

"Head towards the stadium— they're coming from the campsite entrance. Stay with us, Y/N."

The three of you left the tent and began the sprint towards the woods, your parents frequently using shielding charms as stray spells were flying all over the place. Soon, you were more protected within a crowd, but it became difficult to stay close to your parents as panicked people surrounded on all sides. As you broke the threshold of the trees, you were separated from them, and in frenzied fear you found yourself getting knocked over and rolled over the ground. Some people trampled over you, until a silhouette stopped above you and held out its hand.

"Come on, quick," you heard him say, and you took his hand and let him pull you up, stumbling to begin running alongside him.

"Thank you," you gasped out, as your legs moved as quickly as they could, now aware that it was one of the Weasley twins, from the year above.

"Don't mention it," he yelled back, slowing down slightly to match your pace.

You felt bad, and hurriedly said, "You don't have to stay with me."

"No, I don't." But he did.

Whichever Weasley twin it was seemed to somehow rejoin with his siblings, pulling you along with him. Your ears were ringing so much that you didn't see when Harry Potter and his two friends, one of them being a Weasley, disappeared, instead blindly following the twins and the only Weasley girl. That was when a horrifying yet grand formation of the Dark Mark appeared in the sky above you, making you grip the arm of the twin who had saved you. In spite of how terrifying such a symbol was, it seemed to have a positive effect, as the screaming stopped and spells were no longer being thrown around.

"They're retreating!" someone yelled, and relief washed over you.

"We should head back to the tent," the other twin said, then remembered you were there, "Where's yours?"

"Uh, in the— I'm in purple camping," you felt embarrassed to admit that you were in the wealthy campsite, especially in front of the Weasleys, who were well-known for being incredibly poor.

None of them commented, however, and the same twin continued, "Fred, you take her back there, I'll take Ginny back to ours."

Fred Weasley was the one who saved you.

***

When you arrived back at your tent, you didn't hesitate to call for your parents, "Mother? Father?" you shouted, but heard no response. Your tent was heavily fire-damaged on the outside, but perfectly fine on the inside— yet there was no sight of them. Anxiety began to rise within you again.

"I'm sure they're okay," Fred rushed to assure you, "They just haven't got back yet. I'll wait with you."

You nodded, and sat down next to him.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Y/N," you said quietly, "Y/N L/N."

You saw his eyes widen at your last name, but he said nothing, "'M Fred— Weasley, but you probably guessed that."

A small chuckle emerged from you, "I know who you are."

"You go Hogwarts?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, I suppose we're quite famous there, me and George."

You agreed.

The minutes ticked by, and you were becoming increasingly worried.

"Look," Fred said, "My family will be getting worried about me, so I need to head back. You can come with, of course— maybe leave a note or something?"

With panicked breaths, you stood up and muttered a charm that displayed words in the air in front of your tent.

'Mother, Father— I'm safe. I am in the main campsite with the Weasleys.'

And with that, you followed Fred to where the majority of the tents were, and watched as what appeared to be his elder brothers hugged him.

"George told us where you were, but you took a long time," one of them said, as they all noticed you, "Your parents weren't there?"

You shook your head, "I left a note saying where I'd be."

He nodded, "'M Charlie, this is Bill— we're the oldest Weasleys."

"Y/N," you replied with a forced small smile.

"Any idea where the others are?" Bill asked.

Fred shook his head, "Haven't seen 'em since we were with George and Ginny."

"Shit."

Thankfully, only a few minutes later, Harry Potter and his friends returned with the Weasleys' father, who was sporting a grim expression. A discussion concerning death eaters and the Dark Mark ensued, somehow involving a house elf, but all you could do was sit there quietly. It wasn't until the conversation finished that the new arrivals noticed you. "Who's this?"

"Y/N. Y/N L/N," Fred said, "Found her in the woods."

"Where are your parents?" Mr Weasley asked.

You shrugged, "I have no idea."

The man's eyebrows furrowed, "Rich pure bloods missing," he said slowly, "Peculiar." His suspicion of you was evident.

"They're not death eaters," you said quickly, "I've— I've seen their bare arms a countless number of times."

"She's right," Bill said, "The L/N family don't exclusively wear long-sleeves like all the families who were suspected of it."

Mr Weasley seemed to ease up at that, "Sorry, just being cautious, I'm sure they're here somewhere."

***

As it turned out, when your parents had been separated from you, they had gone back to look, and gotten severely injured in the process. They had both been admitted to St Mungo's, where they wouldn't be able to leave for a few weeks. You were grateful that they were alive and seemingly mentally sound, but your large house felt even emptier than before without them.

To pass the time, you wrote a letter to Fred, thanking him profusely for saving you from being trampled to death, and informing him of your parents' situation. You handed it to your owl after pressing your family's wax seal on the envelope, before heading to the household library.

You never told your parents what happened to you that night, mainly because they hardly gave you a chance to speak as they fussed over the fact you were alive and unharmed. It was strange, how this was a secret that you kept all to yourself, at least from the people in your social circle. Complete strangers knew where you were when the death eaters attacked, but your closest friends and family didn't. Not that anyone asked— your friends knew that you went to the quidditch game, and they would have heard about what happened, but not a single one had reached out to check on you.

***

The first bit of post you received was not from friends, but from Fred Weasley, in reply to your letter. He told you that any decent person would have done the same, and that you probably would have been fine without him. He also said that he looked forward to seeing you when school restarted, before asking how your parents were. So, for the first time since they had been hospitalised, you told someone of their injuries, and how long their recovery would be. You briefly alluded to how alone you were in your house, and how he was the first person to ask about you.

Your correspondence continued right up until you boarded the train to Hogwarts, walking down until you found your friends. As you entered the compartment of your fellow Ravenclaw girls, they gave you scornful looks.

"What?" you said instinctively, confused and hurt by their reactions.

"Go away, death eater," Janice, the girl you would have considered your best friend, spat.

You furrowed your brows, "What are you talking about?"

"Your family were at the Quidditch World Cup and haven't been seen the attack," another of your friends stated accusingly, "It's pretty fucking obvious that they're in hiding."

"No, we're not— they're not— they're in the—"

"Save it," Janice cut you off, standing up and walking towards you, making you back up out of the compartment. "We aren't friends with death eaters."

"My parents are in—" but Janice had slammed the door shut and locked it, glaring at you through the glass as she sat down.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and as a result you made no further effort to talk to them, instead continuing down the corridor in hopes of finding the one person who you knew wouldn't turn you away. It wasn't long before you found him in a compartment with his twin brother and Lee Jordan, known for his quidditch commentary. You gently tapped on the glass, making them turn their heads.

As you waved, attempting to swallow your sobs, Fred quickly slid the door open and smiled at you.

"Y/N! Good to see you," he beamed, only to notice your quivering lip, "Are you okay?"

You nodded with a sniff, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, take a seat," he moved aside to allow you entry, resuming his sitting position.

You gently lowered yourself, playing with your hands nervously. The three boys were watching you carefully.

"What happened?" Fred asked carefully.

"My friends- uh- they accused me of being a death eater."

"What the fuck? Why?"

You met his eyes slowly, "Because my parents haven't been seen since the attack."

"But they're in hospital?" George spoke up, relaying information that Fred had evidently told him.

"I tried to tell them that."

"That's fucked up, man, they're not good friends," Lee said.

"Well, we know you're not a death eater," Fred moved to sit next to you, "You can hang out with us. Right, guys?"

His brother and friend immediately nodded.

"I mean, c'mon, you were with us that night and just as scared as we were," he continued, "Even if your parents were, that wouldn't necessarily mean you are."

"Yeah, try telling that to them," you muttered bitterly.

"I would, but I don't think it's worth it."

"Yeah, if they were your real friends, they would've given you a chance to explain," George added.

"You think?"

"One hundred percent," Lee said, "They had no solid proof, they just made assumptions."

You couldn't help but smile at their instant support of you, which was exactly when the train's whistle went off, signalling departure. The three boys quickly settled into a conversation of upcoming pranks and creations, surprising you with their incredible ideas: they were a lot smarter than they let on.

"Oh, by the way, this shit is top secret, yeah?" Fred said to you, "Don't tell a soul."

"My lips are sealed," you replied, just as the trolley lady appeared outside the compartment.

"Anything from the trolley, loves?" she asked after sliding the door open.

You nodded, "Three chocolate frogs and jelly beans, please," you requested, and turned to the others, "Do you guys want anything? On me."

"You don't have to do that," Fred replied.

Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a few galleons, "I insist. It's no trouble."

You felt guilty when their eyes widened at the sight of the coins, but less so when they started ordering things.

"So good," George commented as he chewed on a jelly bean.

"Got lucky with the flavour, then?" Lee laughed.

He hummed, "Strawberry."

"Knowing my luck I'll get bogey," Lee sighed, but popped a jelly bean in his mouth anyway, before immediately spitting it out, "I was right," he gagged.

You all erupted in laughter.

***

Not a single soul had expected the announcement that came during the welcome ceremony: the long-banned Triwizard Tournament being re-introduced, and the impending arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Soon, you were sat with Fred and George in the courtyard as they discussed their plans to enter, despite the fact they weren't old enough.

"An ageing potion?" you raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "You truly believe something so simple will get past a barrier that Dumbledore set?"

"Have some faith in us."

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever. Don't come crying to me if it fails."

"Oh, but what if I so desperately need your comfort?" Fred teased, draping his arm over your shoulders.

"Then tough shit, Fred."

"You're mean."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm realistic."

"Just you wait."

***

"So, this is what I was waiting for?" you suppressed a laugh as George and Fred walked towards you with full beards and long hair.

They rolled their eyes in sync, but could not stop the smiles on their faces-- they had never been the type to get embarrassed, and that in itself was refreshing. Fred sat down beside you, and asked, "You have a razor, by any chance?"

Somehow, you found yourself roped into cutting their hair back to its normal length, and then using a charm to turn it back to their iconic ginger roots.

"Thank you, love," Fred muttered at the end, which created a warm feeling in your chest, but you ignored this.

"Is now a good time to say I told you so?" you chuckled, standing before both of them.

"Yeah, yeah, you were right, we were wrong, you're so smart, Y/N."

"I know," you beamed, ignoring the sarcasm.

***

It was hard to miss the scornful glances that your ex-friends threw your way, especially as you still shared a dormitory with them, but it was elating to watch them see you with the Weasleys, and, by consequence, Harry Potter. They were evidently too proud to admit that they were wrong about you, despite such blatant proof of associating with famous anti-Voldemort individuals.

"What lies do you tell them?" Janice scoffed one night as you entered the bedroom.

You chuckled to yourself.

"They'll drop you just like we did when they realise the truth."

With a hum, you replied, "Yeah, the truth that my parents have been in hospital since the Quidditch Cup."

Janice's eyes widened, making you remember that you never quite got around to telling her such a vital piece of information: you had been so busy with the Weasley twins that you hardly thought about her anymore.

Still, she doubled down, spitting, "What a convincing lie."

"Go to St Mungo's and check for yourself, Jan," you shrugged.

"Maybe I will."

"Do what you want."

***

On a fateful and agonising Wednesday after the Yule Ball had been announced, you realised that you very much wanted Fred to ask you-- in fact, you genuinely feared that you might die if he did not, and went with someone else. You felt hints of jealousy towards Angelina Johnson, who had been nothing but lovely to you, but was quite close with the twins.

As if to spite you, the universe then sent a Hufflepuff boy asking out a Slytherin girl before you, the latter saying 'yes' very eagerly. The thing was, you should not want Fred to take you to the Yule Ball-- while your parents would have no problem with you befriending someone working class, they would never allow you to date, let alone marry one. Marriage was viewed as a transaction in the pure-blood society: one married to solidify status and continue the blood line. Although, Fred was a pure-blood, so maybe your parents would allow it?

You shook your head-- you were being delusionally hopeful, besides, Fred had done very little to indicate romantic affection towards you. All of these thoughts were moot points.

It was when you were sat on the Gryffindor table with Fred and George, that such a mindset changed: the twins were bickering with their brother, Ron, when the topic of insult turned to Yule Ball dates.

"Well, where's your date then?" Ron said bitterly to Fred.

Your crush rolled his eyes before turning to you, "Y/N, you, me - Yule Ball?" He made a motion of ballroom dancing as he asked, making a situation where all you could feel inside was butterflies comedic.

"Al- Alright, then," you replied as calmly as you could.

Fred then winked at Ron, who rolled his eyes.

You felt ecstatic happiness for the next hour, until it dawned on you that Fred may have only asked you to prove a point to his brother, and you happened to be the convenient option. That was a painful perspective, that you were simply convenient-- a space-filler until he found the right person.

What did it matter anyway? Your parents would never approve.

***

Admiring the baby blue ballroom gown that had been personally crafted for you upon the notification that ballroom attire would be required at the end of Summer, you could not help but feel pretty. You had spent ages on your hair and make-up, and even taught yourself how to walk in high heels, all for this fateful night. All, shamefully, in the hope that Fred would compliment you.

So, when you emerged from the Ravenclaw tower, to find Fred waiting patiently outside for you, your nerves spiked to dangerous levels. A lump grew in your throat as you approached him, unable to even force a small smile.

He whistled, "Well, love, you are a stunner."

Only then did a smile crack through your anxious visage. "You're not so bad yourself, Weasley," you said quietly, grateful that your foundation covered your blushing.

"Shall we?" he presented his arm to you.

"We shall."

From dancing with Fred to stuffing your face with the buffet, from laughing with your arms around his neck to watching George dance with Angelina-- it was, by all definitions, a perfect night. Never had you felt more alive, more care-free, which could only explain why when Fred went to kiss you as you ran from the Great Hall with your heels in your hand, you kissed him back without reservation. Without a single thought for your parents' approval. Without a care towards what was expected of you.

As he pulled away, he said, "Your parents probably wouldn't approve."

Quickly, you placed a finger over his lips, "To that, Fred, I say fuck it."

***

The Christmas holidays arrived, and your parents were still in St Mungo's, so you spent Christmas Day at the hospital with them, chatting amicably. As much as part of you wanted to keep your secret, you knew that you had to tell them-- not for their sake, but out of respect for Fred, and the fact you were not ashamed to be with him.

"Mother, Father-- how would..." you took a deep breath, "How would you feel if I married someone poor, even if he was of pure blood?"

They both went silent, your mother's lips even pursing, "We would not be... pleased."

"You know what marriage means for families like ours," your father added, "It is not a decision we make based on feelings."

You exhaled slowly, "Well, I do not think power and status is more important than happiness."

"You are young and naïve. You don't know what to think," your mother said calmly.

"I know that you both aren't happy."

"Watch your mouth," your father said harshly, "You don't even know what happiness is."

"I know it's not only seeing your spouse at the dinner table," you snapped back, surprised that you were standing up for yourself.

You observed your mother's eye twitch, "It sounds a lot to me like you are seeing an impoverished young man."

"Maybe I am."

"You will cease such relations immediately," she replied, "Our family's reputation is at stake if you are seen frolicking around with a respectless house."

Angrily, you stood up, "I see that reputation is more important to you than your own daughter." And, with that, you stormed out of the room.

***

After that Christmas, you stopped sending letters to your parents, and delved even deeper into your relationship with Fred.

"Am I really worth losing your relationship with your parents?" he asked one Summer afternoon as you lounged by the lake.

"Yes," you said without thinking.

"I just don't want to be a cause for regret for you."

"Even without you in the equation, I would still be angry about the principle," you sighed, "Their values are not in the right places."

He hummed, "I don't want to hold you back."

"Fred, everything in my life has been dictated for me-- which classes I took, what I could wear, who I could consider dating-- this is the first time I have made a decision for myself. Don't try and take that away from like they did."

Wrapping his arm around you, Fred smiled, "You're right, I'm sorry. I just care about your wellbeing."

***

ONE YEAR LATER.

***

"Will you come with us?" Fred asked you, after explaining his and George's grand exit from Hogwarts during exam season, "It's completely up to you, of course, don't feel pressured."

"My parents will hate me even more."

"So?"

"Rowena knows I'll probably be expelled."

"You don't have to."

"Yet, for some reason, every bone in my body is screaming for me to go."

Fred smiled, "You will?"

"Fred, I would go to the end of the earth if it meant being with you."

"Is that a yes?"

You grinned from ear to ear, "Of course it is, silly."

"Okay, okay, great-- because this leads into my next question."

"Oh?"

Shock coursed through your veins as Fred kneeled down before you, delicately taking and kissing your hand, "Y/N, I know your parents disapprove, I know we're only young, I know I can't afford a ring-- and I know this is a stupid decision, but nothing makes me happier than making a stupid decision with you."

You gasped.

"Let's get married, let's elope, even."

"Oh, Fred," you said softly, "Nothing makes me happier than making stupid decisions with you, too."

"So, will you marry me?"

You laughed, leaning down to whisper into his ear, "Fuck it."

***

Dearest Mother and Father,

You will be disappointed to know that I just married an impoverished man.

Kind regards,

Y/N Weasley

———————————————

masterlist

written; 03/01/2025 —> 22/03/2025 published; 22/03/2025 edited; —/—/——

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.

Word Count: 10.8k 

Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare 

Kinkmas Masterlist

---

Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.

The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.

You.

Where were you?

"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.

Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.

It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.

"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.

"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.

"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.

"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.

"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.

"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.

"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.

"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.

Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.

Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.

"What-"

"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.

"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.

"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.

"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.

"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.

"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.

"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.

"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.

"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.

"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.

***

"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.

"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.

"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.

"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.

"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.

A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.

"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.

It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.

"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.

"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.

"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.

"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.

"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.

Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.

***

"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.

A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.

"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.

"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.

"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.

"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.

"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.

"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.

"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.

After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.

Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.

As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.

"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"

"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"

She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.

"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.

"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.

***

A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.

Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.

The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.

"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.

"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.

"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.

"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.

"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.

"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.

"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.

Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.

"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.

"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.

***

"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.

"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.

You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.

"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.

"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.

"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.

"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.

Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.

"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.

The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.

Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.

"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.

"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.

The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.

"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.

***

A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.

"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.

"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.

"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.

"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.

"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.

"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.

"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.

"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.

A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.

You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.

Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.

"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.

You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.

Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.

"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.

Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.

"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.

"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.

Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.

"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.

"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.

She kissed you.

You actually just kissed her.

A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.

What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.

Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.

***

Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.

A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.

The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.

"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.

"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.

"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.

"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.

As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.

Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.

"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.

"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.

"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.

"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.

"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"

"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.

Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.

You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.

A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.

"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.

Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.

"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.

"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"

"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.

"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.

"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.

"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.

She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.

When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.

"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.

"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.

Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.

Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.

"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.

"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.

"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.

"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.

"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.

"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.

You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.

"Can I-"

"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.

Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.

"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.

"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.

"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.

"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.

"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.

"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.

"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.

"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.

"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.

"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.

Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.

Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.

She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.

"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.

"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.

"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.

"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.

"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.

"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.

"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart. 

[champagnetommy]

hold me, console me

Two months after the break-up, Buck gets an interesting call in the middle of the night. 1.4k words, fix-it, fluff and humor, on ao3

Buck had just face-planted onto his bed, after a long, long day of hectic calls, followed by non-stop baking, when his phone rings. He doesn’t move an inch at first, considering letting it go to voicemail, but he turns his head to the digital clock on his nightstand-Tommy’s - and registers it’s 1 a.m. He figures it could be important.

Through bleary eyes, he glances briefly at his phone screen, it’s an unknown number. Huh. He slides his finger over to answer and mumbles a tired, “Hello?”

“Evan.” He’d know that voice anywhere. It’d been haunting his dreams and every waking thought since—

“—Tommy?”

Tommy chuckles nervously on the other side of the phone. It’s staticky and echo-y; Buck wonders where he is. “Uh, yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry to do this, the only phone numbers I have memorized are yours and my captain’s and I do not want to call him for this. Oh god.”

“Are you okay?” Buck can’t help but ask. If he’s in trouble, he needs to get to him as soon as possible.

Tommy sighs, exhaling heavily, before answering. “Erm. I- I need you to come bail me out. Please.”

That’s the last thing Buck was expecting. He must have been quiet for too long, because, then, Tommy’s in his ear again.

“Evan?”

“ Yeah, sorry, I’m here. How, why are you…” He’s not quite sure where to start, really.

“I’ll explain later? I don’t have a lot of time to talk at the moment,” he says drily. “Again, I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, I- I don’t want to be a bother. But, I’d appreciate it, if you could help me tonight. I know I don’t deserve it—”

“— You’re not an inconvenience, Tommy,” Buck says quietly.

Tommy clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Good, a small part of Buck thinks.

“Which precinct?”

***

An hour later, Buck pulls up to the precinct Tommy instructed him. He’s definitely awake now, and burning with so many questions, and he’s unsure wether he’ll get the answers to any of them. As he walks in, he’s relieved and thankful it’s not Athena’s station. He thinks Tommy probably is, too.

He makes his way to the appropriate desk and greets the officer with his most charming- not too much- smile. “Good night- er morning?”

The officer, Cortez, her badge says, doesn’t look very impressed, but then again, it could just be the fact she’s on night shift.

“I’m here for Tommy- Thomas Kinard. I believe he was brought in earlier tonight.”

It’s like a switch is flipped, because Officer Cortez actually cracks a smile and her eyes widen in realization. “Huh, so you’re Evan.” It’s not a question. “Your guy’s a real charmer, you know?”

Not my guy, not anymore, he thinks. He doesn’t say it, though. “Uh, yeah,” he chuckles, instead. “Sounds about right. Do I need to post bail? I’m not really sure how that works.”

“Oh, no you’re fine,” Officer Cortez shakes her head. “The guy he punched didn’t press charges, and he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on, seeing as he was brought in, too. And there were witnesses that vouched for your guy. We just needed someone to come pick him up.”

Tommy punched someone?

“Right,” Buck swallows, trying not to betray the fact this is all new information for him.

Officer Cortez gives him a kind smile and then turns to type and click on her computer for a couple minutes. Buck rocks on the balls of his feet, feeling jittery and like his skin itches, as he waits.

“Ok, he’s all set,” she says a minute later. “Let me go get him, I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, Tommy’s walking over to him, the officer right behind him. He looks tired and a little sheepish, but otherwise uninjured, thankfully.

“Hi.” He says meekly, ducking his head and raises a hand to rub the back of his neck.

Buck thought he’d be angry the first time he saw him, after the breakup, but instead he feels a knot loosen in his chest. “Hi yourself.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

Officer Cortez looks between them, amusement etched on her face “Alright you two, this has been fun and the highlight of my night, but out you go.”

“She won’t run away with me, can you believe that?” Tommy mock-whispers conspiringly, like everything’s normal, like it’s just another day and they’re not standing in the middle of a police precinct because he punched someone.

“In your dreams, Kinard! Now leave, before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” he salutes with two fingers and motions for Buck to follow him out.

“And talk to your Evan!” She calls to their retreating forms.

Tommy groans in embarrassment.

Once they walk out of the main doors, into the night air, Buck stops and rounds on him. “So. You punched someone.”

Tommy freezes for a second and then nods. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Can we not—”

“— No. You called me in the middle of the night to come bail you out, so we are doing this now, actually.”

Tommy’s shoulders stiffen and then relax, slumping as he inhales and exhales deeply. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve said.”

Tommy clears his throat. “Right, okay, well. I was at a bar, I was— doesn’t matter, but when I was leaving, I saw this asshole harassing a couple, two men. They were just having a night out a- and this jackass was hurling slur after slur, cornering them in.” He takes another deep breath. Buck notices his hands shake a little.

“Anyway, I stepped in, told him to leave them alone and go on his way. Next thing I know, he swings at me, misses of course. I, uh, swung back and lightly decked him. He was drunk, tripping over his feet and honestly, sent himself to the ground.”

And Buck believes him, knows him, despite everything. “And you got arrested?”

“Yeah, we both did. There was an officer nearby, but the couple and some other bystanders explained what happened. He said he still had to take me in and here I am- or was, I suppose. Not my proudest moment.” He stares at he ground, as if afraid Buck would be angry or disappointed in him.

“Tommy,” he says softly, “hey look at me.” He dares to reach out and gently tips Tommy’s chin up with two fingers.

Tommy eyes him wearily, vulnerability and trepidation achingly evident across his ever-beautiful visage.

“You punched a homophobe,” Buck iterates.

Tommy’s expression morphs into confusion. “Yeah? That’s what I—"

Between one moment and the next, Buck leans in and cuts him off with the press of his lips. It’s as chaste and brief as their first kiss, and it’s absolutely everything. He disconnects their lips, but only moves back far enough to rest their foreheads together.

“God you’re so— I missed you,” Buck mumbles into the scant space between them. “So much.”

“Evan, sweetheart, I missed you too. You don’t know how sorry I am, for leaving, for everything—mmph!— Buck kisses him quiet again.

“Come home with me.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Just to sleep. I think it’s been a long day for both us. We can talk and argue and yell tomorrow. I-I just want to sleep next to you again, hold you.”

Tommy smiles at him, much like the way he smiled at him after accepting his invite to Maddie’s wedding, all soft and awe-struck.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” This time, Tommy’s the one bringing him in for a kiss.

All too soon, their bubble is interrupted by the intercom mounted near the precinct doors. “Gentlemen, as heartwarming as this is,” Officer Cortez says firmly, but not unkindly. “I suggest you move along, lest this turns into public indecency and then I’ll have to bring you both in.”

Their faces turn red, as they mumble quick sorry’s in unison. Tommy pulls Buck by the hand, down the stairs and toward the parking lot. The knot in his chest loosens further.

“And congratulations!” Officer Cortez shouts happily, voice carrying into the nearly empty lot.

Everything’s not magically fixed. They still have difficult conversations to face, fears to work through together and separately, but Tommy’s hand is warm and sure in his and he’ll sleep curled up next to him again, for the first time in months. And Buck’s ready to fight for them, to make it.

It’s a start.

[loulou-land]

Love, Everywhere

Day 7 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Love Notes/Letters | 1,388 | ao3

Tommy finds the first note by accident—tucked into his jacket’s pocket as he’s getting ready to head out for work. He frowns, fingers brushing the crinkled edge of the pink sticky note and pulls it free. It’s scrawled in Evan’s messy, loopy handwriting: 

You look really hot in this jacket. Like, stupidly hot. Honestly, it’s a bit unfair ;p 

Tommy snorts, shaking his head, wondering what had made his boyfriend leave the note. But then again, Evan has always kept him on his toes. He folds the note up and tucks it into his wallet. 

The second note is waiting in his packed lunch, which Evan had made and wrapped with care, handing it to him this morning with a kiss and a be safe. 

A yummy and nutritious meal for my favorite guy <3 Because you deserve nice things and to be taken care of.   Ps. Do not eat the desert first! >:\ I’ll know if you do.

Tommy chuckles, rolling his eyes. But then he picks up the other container, curiosity getting the best of him, and he sees it's a slice of his favorite cheesecake. It takes all his self-control not to eat it before his lunch. 

He wouldn't put it past Evan to have spies at Harbor.  

“What’s so funny?” Lucy asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Tommy shakes his head and folds the note into his flight suit pocket. He feels warmth creep onto his cheeks, but his heart feels full.

 “Nothing,” he says, but his smile gives him away. 

—————————————————————

After that he finds them everywhere. 

He never knows what he’s going to come across. Some notes are flirty and absurd, some sweet and romantic, others just pure on brand Evan chaos. 

There’s one in his gym bag: 

Get those gains, baby! So you can fuck me up against the wall ;) 

Tommy groans, slapping a hand over his face. Jesus Christ, Evan. 

Suffice it to say, he doesn’t get much of a workout that day. Instead, he drives straight home to ‘punish’ his bratty boyfriend. 

He does go extra hard in his next gym session, though. Evan does have a point. 

*

One stuck to his bathroom mirror: 

Oh look! It's the most handsome and sexiest man I know. Thank you, my life has been better with you. Has been better since you :) 

Tommy sees his own reflection staring back at him, the soft, surprised tilt of his smile. The wonder sparkling in his eyes. 

He presses a hand to the note, fingers ghosting over the words. 

No, Evan. You're the one who's made everything better.  

*

The orange sticky note blinks brightly at him from atop his pillow: 

Are you my pillow? Cause I wanna give you head ;) 

Tommy groans, burying his face in his hands. That one might be the worst pickup line he's ever heard. 

However, when Evan joins him in bed that night, Tommy kisses him all over before laying on his back and letting Evan take him apart with that sweet, dorky and sinful mouth of his.  

*

At this point, he shouldn't be surprised by the placement of some notes. Still, he finds himself bewildered by the one in his medicine cabinet: 

Are you aspirin? Because I’d like to take you every 4-6 hours… 

Tommy shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Where do you keep finding these pickup lines?

*

There’s one on the inside of Evan’s blue hoodie, which Tommy has stolen for the third time this week: 

If you’re reading this, you’re probably stealing my hoodie again. Which is fine. Looks better on you anyways! Ps. Fair play, I have your favorite shirt :p 

Tommy laughs. Today, the hoodie feels even softer and warmer than usual. 

*

One day, he walks into the garage and feels something flutter to the ground when he flips the light switch. 

He bends down, picking up a blue sticky note that had been stuck to the switch: 

Hey baby, you must be a light switch, cuz every time I see you, you turn me on! 

“Evan,” he says exasperated. Menace, Tommy thinks fondly.

—————————————————————

After a while the notes start changing. 

There’s one waiting on his front door as he's leaving for work:  

I’ve never met anyone like you. You're one in a million Tommy. Sometimes, ‘I love you’ is not enough. Not when I love you so much more than that. More than words could ever express.  Be Safe. Yours, E.

Tommy pauses. 

His fingers brush over the sticky note, over the careful way Evan had written this one, as though making sure Tommy took each of the words in and understood them. 

His throat goes tight, something warm and aching curling up inside him. He takes the note gently, folds it, and places it in a wooden box on his bookshelf with all the others. 

He has to take a deep breath before he can step outside. 

*

Then, Tommy finds one stuck to his truck’s steering wheel: 

I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, but you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. I love you exactly as you are.

Tommy stares at it. 

The words settle deep, heavy in his chest, wrapping around that raw and vulnerable part inside of him.

He swallows, rereading the note through glassy eyes before carefully tucking it into his glove compartment—where he knows he’ll reach for it again. 

* 

Tommy has picked up the book he's been reading for the past week when a note flutters onto his lap. His heart races wondering what this one will say. 

I choose you and I’ll choose you over and over. Without hesitation, without a single doubt, in a heartbeat. I’ll keep choosing you.

Tommy exhales sharply. His fingers shake as he holds the note. He thinks how every note so far has broken him apart only to mend him back together. He thinks, An entire life loving this man will not be enough. 

In that moment, Tommy wishes for an eternity with Evan. 

*

There’s one hidden in the cockpit of the helicopter. 

He has no idea how Evan managed that one. 

But there it is, waiting for him when he climbs in for a routine check, stuck to the panel like it belongs there.  

I’m so proud of you, you know that. You amaze me every single day. I love you. 

He blinks rapidly, looking away for a second before glancing back at the note. Tommy doesn't remember the last time someone told him they were proud of him. 

For a second, he doesn't know what to do with all of this—with Evan’s love, constant and unrelenting. But the more he sits there, staring unblinkingly at the note, the more it settles within him. 

Tommy thinks he’s learning. How to let himself be loved. 

—————————————————————

Then, one night, Evan finds something waiting for him  

A folded letter, carefully placed on his pillow with a single sunflower beneath it, written in Tommy’s neat, precise handwriting:

For my sunshine,  Thank you, for seeing the parts of me I’ve never liked—the ugly and the shameful—and loving them anyway. For seeing me completely as I am and still wanting to keep me. For teaching me how to let myself be loved.  You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.  Evan, sweet, selfless, ridiculous Evan. I love you entirely and wholeheartedly.  Completely yours,  Tommy

Tommy is on the couch when suddenly there's a 200-pound man climbing onto his lap. It takes him a second to realize Evan is crying. His stomach drops.

“Baby, what's wrong?" He asks worriedly, running his hands up and down Evan’s back. 

Evan just shakes his head, clutching the letter like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “You love me.” His voice cracks, thick with emotion. 

Tommy’s confused. Because of course he loves Evan. He thinks he's been pretty clear on that. 

Then he realizes Evan is holding in his hands the letter he'd left him and softens. 

“Of course I love you sweetheart.” 

He gently wipes away the tears clinging to Evan’s lashes, tilts his head down for a forehead kiss, and pulls him close. Evan sighs, burying his face into Tommy’s neck, arms tightening around him. 

They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. 

Tommy doesn't need to say anything else. 

Evan already knows.

[loveatfirstfight5-0]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63876136

Just a little something inspired by this pic and the prompt of the month :

"What are you doing with that?"

Tactical claiming

It’s not like Danny cares. He’s used to it by now—Steve and his complete inability to keep a shirt on for longer than necessary. Scratch that. Longer than five damn minutes.

At first, Danny thought maybe it was a Hawaii thing, something about the heat, the ocean, the whole island vibe that made Steve allergic to fabric. But no, it’s a Steve thing. A habit. Like running into danger without backup, staring at Danny like he’s the crazy one for worrying, and, apparently, treating his T-shirt like it’s optional at any given moment.

So, yeah, Danny is used to it. He doesn’t flinch when Steve peels it off post-surf, mid-workout, hell—even when he’s just standing around in HQ. It’s not a thing.

Until it is.

Because Danny can deal with Steve being Steve. He can deal with Steve parading around like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie montage. But what Danny cannot deal with is other people reacting to it.

And right now?

Right now, some guy at their current crime scene is definitely reacting.

Danny sees him from the corner of his eye, the way the guy’s mouth is slightly open, eyes glued to Steve’s torso like he just stumbled onto the lost city of gold. And Steve—oblivious as ever—stands there, casually holding his discarded T-shirt like he forgot he even took it off.

Danny narrows his eyes. Then, before he even fully processes it, he’s saying,

“What are you doing with that?”

Steve looks up, confused. “What?”

Danny gestures at the shirt in Steve’s hand. “Your shirt. Put it back.”

Steve blinks. “Why? I was just gon—”

“I said put it back.”

Steve frowns but does as he’s told, dragging the fabric over his head with a wary look. “Okay, okay. Relax, would ya? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing is the matter with me,” Danny shoots back, even as his heart pounds in his chest. “It’s you here, always showing up, always—can’t you stay clothed for one damn minute?”

Steve lifts his hands in surrender, but his face is all puzzled amusement. “Okay, okay. Jeez. What is this about, Danno?”

Danny doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes flick to the guy—who is still gawking, by the way—then back to Steve.

And suddenly, the words just happen.

Danny steps forward, barely brushing his fingers against Steve’s freshly re-donned T-shirt, giving it a small, decisive tug just on his torso, to make sure it’s really on.

“Because, Steven,” he says, his voice steady, “I decided you’re my boyfriend.”

Steve freezes. “Oh…you decided?”

Danny nods, completely unbothered. “Yep.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t step back. If anything, he leans in slightly, the hint of a smirk forming. “And when exactly did you make this decision?”

Danny shrugs. “Right about the time I saw that guy over there looking at you like he was about to devour you.”

Steve follows Danny’s gaze, taking in the still-staring dude, and something clicks in his expression. His smirk widens into something smug, something pleased.

“Ohhh,” he drawls. “I see.”

Danny glares. “Yeah, well, wipe that look off your face.”

“Why?” Steve asks, tilting his head. “You jealous, Danno?”

Danny scoffs. “I just said you’re my boyfriend, didn’t I?”

Steve considers that, then grins. “Yeah. You did.”

Danny sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay, maybe I regret it already.”

But he doesn’t move away. And neither does Steve. And if Steve’s hand brushes against Danny’s when he adjusts his shirt, well—Danny pretends not to notice.

For now.

Steve’s grin lingers, that smug, satisfied look that makes Danny’s blood pressure rise on a good day—and today? Today is not a good day, because now, Danny has gone and done something absolutely insane.

He just claimed Steve.

Out loud.

In front of witnesses.

Like a damn lunatic.

“Alright,” Danny mutters, stepping back, forcing some distance between them before he does something even dumber, like actually grabbing Steve by the shirt and—nope. Nope. Not thinking about that. “Back to work, Commander. Less flexing, more detecting.”

But Steve doesn’t move. He’s still looking at Danny, head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled at the edges in that infuriating way that usually precedes some kind of smart-ass remark.

“Danno,” Steve says, voice suspiciously gentle. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about—”

“Nope.” Danny spins on his heel, already heading toward the evidence markers. “Case. Crime. Dead body. Focus.”

Steve huffs a laugh but, mercifully, follows. The gawking guy is still hovering, watching them, but now there’s something different in the way he looks at Steve. He’s hesitant, almost nervous.

Danny smirks. Yeah, that’s right, buddy. Move along. Steve’s taken.

Wait.

Wait.

Danny blinks, nearly stopping in his tracks. What the hell did he just think?

“Danno?” Steve is suddenly at his side, leaning in a little too close, voice all faux concern. “You okay? You look—what’s the word? Flustered?”

Danny’s entire body bristles. “Oh, go to hell, Steven.”

Steve just grins. “Aww. Don’t be mad, babe.”

Danny glares. “I will shoot you.”

Steve hums. “Mm. But you won’t.”

Danny levels him with a look. “Try me.”

Steve, being the insufferable pain that he is, just throws an arm around Danny’s shoulders, all casual-like, as if they do this all the time. Like it’s normal.

Danny huffs, but he doesn’t shake him off.

Danny tells himself he’s letting Steve get away with this—the arm, the smugness, the whole damn thing—because they’re at a crime scene. Because it would be unprofessional to shove him off in front of HPD. Because they have actual work to do.

It’s definitely not because Steve’s arm is warm against his shoulders, or because, for some reason, it feels right.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

“Alright,” Danny grumbles, shrugging Steve off just enough to get them back on track. “Let’s focus, shall we? You remember? The reason we’re here? Murder investigation? Dead guy?”

Steve sighs, putting on his best I’m a serious professional face. “Fine. Let’s check the perimeter.”

Danny steps ahead, grateful for the brief reprieve from Steve’s presence, but of course, it doesn’t last. Because two minutes later, Steve is right there again, trailing behind him like a damn shadow.

“So,” Steve says casually, hands on his hips, “since I’m apparently your boyfriend now—”

Danny groans. “Oh my God, shut up.”

“—I just think it’s important we establish some ground rules.”

Danny whirls on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “First of all, I did not say boyfriend in a general, romantic sense, okay? It was a tactical decision. A crime scene necessity.”

Steve nods, all faux seriousness. “Right. A tactical claiming.”

Danny scowls. “Do not use that word.”

Steve’s lips twitch like he’s barely holding back laughter. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Danny exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I take it back. You’re not my boyfriend.”

Steve shrugs. “Fine. But that guy over there still thinks I am.”

Danny glares at the guy—who, sure enough, is still throwing lingering looks in Steve’s direction.

He huffs. Crosses his arms. Shifts his weight.

Then he sighs, defeated.

“Fine,” he mutters.

Steve grins, victorious. “That’s what I thought.”

Danny points a warning finger at him. “One more ‘babe’ and I swear—”

“Got it,” Steve says, but his smile says otherwise.

Danny rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath as he turns back to the crime scene.

Steve, the menace, follows, still grinning.

Danny tells himself he’s letting this go. He is. He’s moving on, because there’s an actual homicide to solve, and he’s not about to let Steve “Tactical Shirt Removal” McGarrett get in his head any more than he already has.

But then Steve—because of course Steve—leans in again, voice all low and smug.

“So, just to be clear,” he murmurs, “are we talking, like, exclusive boyfriend status, or—”

Danny whirls on him, again, because apparently, his entire day is just going to be him reacting to Steve being Steve.

“Oh my God, Steven. This is not a relationship discussion.”

Steve tilts his head, all faux innocence. “It’s not?”

Danny clenches his jaw. “It’s not.”

Steve hums like he’s considering it, then glances—again—at the guy who is still sneaking looks in their direction.

“So, if I took my shirt off again—”

Danny jabs a finger into his chest. “I will murder you. Right here. On top of the other dead body.”

Steve grins. “So, exclusive, then?”

Danny exhales sharply through his nose, glares at him, and then—because there is no other way to make this stop—grabs Steve’s stupid, smug face and kisses him.

It’s meant to be a statement. A final word. But Steve—because he is the worst—makes a soft, pleased noise, and suddenly, his hands are curling around Danny’s waist, pulling him in, and oh, shit…

For one, maybe two seconds, Danny’s brain freezes, and he melts into it because… Hell!

But then—

Danny yanks back, eyes wide, looking everywhere around them.

HPD. The crime scene. The dead body.

Steve just smirks at him, looking entirely too satisfied.

Danny tightens his grip on Steve’s shirt, practically shaking him.

“Okay,” Danny breathes, voice low but deadly. “We are in a fucking crime scene, with all of HPD around us. You never do that again!”

Steve’s smirk does not waver. “Uh-huh. And which part, exactly, am I not supposed to do again? The kissing? Or the part where I kissed you back?”

Danny growls—actually growls—and shoves him back.

“I swear to God, Steven,” he mutters, rubbing his face like that’s somehow going to erase the last 30 seconds from existence.

Steve grins, stepping way too close again. “Relax, babe. It’s not like anyone saw.”

Danny glares, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah? You kiss all the people you hate?”

Danny throws his hands in the air and stomps away, ignoring the way Steve is definitely watching him go.

Behind him, Steve murmurs, smug and smugger,

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll keep my shirt on. For now.”

💙👕💙

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63876136

[thiccpersonality]

The Difficulties of The Working Class (Just Clark Kent): A Beautiful Omega, His Pups and The Fact He Wants Both

Happy Valentine's Day my loves! I know this isn't a post for that Damian story, nor is it the 5+2 that I'm doing, but I did say that I was working on a 5k+ superbat story (that obviously didn't stay 5k+ words). I kept myself up the whole night just to be able to post this on today, though sadly I won't be able to make a double post like how I wanted, but I hope this will suffice?

I really hope everyone is able to find some humor and love within this story? 😂 Enjoy! 💛

Being a reporter can be a pretty rough job...or so Clark assumes. It doesn't make him as physically drained as his very human coworkers, however, the Kryptonian can often feel mentally and emotionally overwhelmed depending on who it is he's talking to and what exactly he's researching. 

And maybe it's just his body's way of trying to relate to earthlings?

But, Clark often feels a physical weight on his shoulders or back when a scoop is particularly difficult to look into, or his legs get phantom aches and pains in them when he's been moving too much. All the bodily discomfort he tends to feel is most likely just Clark taking what he's heard the people around him complaining about daily and trying his best to imagine that for himself—again—in anyway to try relating to the humans around him, all to show that he's not too different. Anyway, Clark could go on forever talking about his identity crisis, but that isn't what this is about. 

No.

This is something much bigger than any stories he could ever chase down.

'Why', you ask?

That's a very good question. It's because most of Clark's mental, emotional and physical distress comes with one eligible bachelor's children. 'Who?' You ask this time instead. Well, one Bruce Thomas Wayne and his hoard of children...or demons? Clark isn't too sure on what exactly those—creatures are yet.

Figuring out if Bruce Wayne's children are also an alien species like himself, an experiment gone wrong, or demons that crawled their way out of hell, is a mystery that Clark has yet to solve at this moment in time. But all is well—if nothing else—than because everyone's beloved Kryptonian has found himself growing closer to Bruce everytime they do an interview together. It's honestly like a dream come true...ah, having those strikingly blue eyes on you that is, not the hoard of gremlins children that stare into your soul from afar off because they most definitely know that you have a crush on their mother and do their very best to make your life miserable and your job impossible.

Clark can't say that he knows for sure how they feel when seeing someone try to flirt with your mother during business hours, and eye him like he's eye candy. But, he supposes he could understand feeling protective over the only parent/person who–out of their love and kindness–took you into their home and loves you for who you are.

You see.

Not much is known about the Wayne childrens parents. It's something that hardly anyone talks about, and while there have already been released (and confirmed) statements on how all of Bruce's children (except one) is adopted, most people-including Clark himself-wonder if that's all true. I mean, most of Bruce's kids look like they could be his by blood...especially the Wayne brothers, and there's also the possibility that the rest took after their birth fathers more than the billionaire himself.

But in all honesty. That's not a thought Clark tries to dwell on too much...he gets...jealous whenever the thought of Bruce sleeping around with anyone that isn't him pops up in this useless brain of his.

Which Clark truly feels guilty for feeling. Isn't that, what did one of Bruce's kids put it as, red flag behavior right there? I mean, they aren't even together, so why should he be concerning himself about who Mr. Wayne sleeps with? The answer: he doesn't know. Which is making Clark start to feel disheartened at the fact he ends up with more questions than answers, he's a reporter for goodness sakes! That's all he does is find answers to questions left untouched and unsolved. Anyhow, Bruce's kids make his job so much more exhausting than it needs to be (or should be) for him. I mean, when he said he wanted to feel human, he didn't mean for it to be in the form of the world's most menacing kids making him feel like he aged as gracefully as forgotten milk in the fridge.

No matter though.

Because Clark can put all his worries behind himself—please don't ask why again; he'll tell you this time. It's because he gets to interview (again) for the fourth time in the same year and month, his unofficial lover crush/boss, Bruce Wayne.

The man's smile can make Clark feel like he can do anything both in and out of his suit (civilian and superhero). He makes him feel indestructible, as if even Kryptonite wouldn't be able to take him down. Which maybe that's the secret weapon? Clark should give it a try sometime. But, the man and everything he exudes does wonder for Clark's health, especially when those soft, fair skinned cheeks flush a pretty pink whenever Clark looks at him a certain way when interviewing...there's always a pleasant smell that escapes Bruce Wayne's scent patches whenever Clark flusters him, a smell that only the Kryptonian can detect and bask in.

A fact that makes that possessive side of Clark simmer down like a dog finally given a bone after growling and barking for it.

And when looking at Bruce.

What a pretty bone he is. Clark wouldn't mind biting on that one any day.

Ahem! Where were we? Clark is being extremely unprofessional right now...he's about to go interview his crush/boss and he can't be thinking such thoughts while interviewing the other, or else nothing but intense staring and heavy breathing will ensue after simply looking at the man sitting in his seat with that beautiful smile on his face to welcome him.

Which Clark wouldn't mind staring at Bruce all day. But the other might not appreciate it, and might even fire him for looking so creepy.

And if he's fired. There's no more getting to hold in-depth conversations with Bruce and hear that soft as silk voice caress his eardrums like a gentle lover. He won't be able to see the billionaire's carefully sculpted (yet somehow delicate) face flush a soft pink whenever Clark brings up something he actually enjoys.

.

..

...

....

Oh, yeah...and there's also the fact that if he's fired, he won't be working anywhere ever again. There's also that.

But today is a day to be free of any burdens built up over the past few months of carefully inspected stories and grueling hours of getting the scoop on people that don't want to talk. Because Clark is now sitting (im)patiently in Bruce Wayne's lobby, waiting to be told by the too stern receptionist (her name is Clara) that he's okay to head on up to the office. Even if it's always the same routine of him being allowed up before the interview actually starts...Clara sure is stubborn about him actually going up when he's allowed (she claims he's too early and should just be on time for once. Rude).

Clark jiggles his leg up and down in an anticipatory manner, sighing softly as he stands up from his seat and heads over to Clara's desk, the woman only giving him a warning glance as he leans onto her desk before continuing to clack away at her keyboard.

"So...Clara-"

The strawberry blonde sighs, pushing her stark white cat eye glasses up her nose when they slip. "Mr. Kent. I swear if you are here to ask me, 'can I go up now?' one more time, I'm going to lollipop your throat with my pen." The receptionist rolls her eyes when hearing the defeated whine escaping the beta's lips, glancing up from her computer to look at the pouting reporter, raising a brow unimpressed at the behavior. "You are a grown man with a job, not a pup, please remain professional. And do you really think Mr. Wayne's children would accept a father who acts just like they do?"

Clara smiles victoriously at catching the taller off guard, basking in the embarrassed sputtering escaping from Clark.

"I-I don't—I'm not-" Clark looks around nervously to make sure no one heard them, narrowing his eyes at the female omega when she speaks up again, her voice amused while the corners of her lips tilt up impishly. "What? The only people around are you and I. Unless you're suddenly afraid of the chairs and walls talking about how embarrassing you are. Do you even realize how pitiful it is to see you trail after Mr. Wayne like a lost dog? And you always come way earlier than you need to and it always ends up the same routine." 

Clark's flush deepens at how matter of fact the woman is about this...he's not that easy to read...is he?

"I-It wouldn't be the same if you just let me up early. You know Bru-Mr. Wayne doesn't mind it."

Clara snorts and shakes her head, "Well, I'm not Mr. Wayne, am I? I'm just a humble receptionist trying to do her job without bumbling Metropolitan reporter's disturbing me while receptioning." Clark's brow furrows and he groans while resting his cheek in his hand dejectedly, "Receptioning isn't a word, Clara. Are you sure you can't just-" he cuts himself off when seeing the omega reach for her pen. "You aren't a word, Kent. And I swear if you ask me to send you upstairs." Clark frowns in offense at the woman's implied threat, staring at the hand that squeezes the pen defensively. "First off, that doesn't make any sense. And second, you really meant that? About lollipopping me with a pen?! But...but it's such an expensive looking pen, surely it'd be a waste of money just to harm me?"

Clara twirls the object between her slim fingers, her smile pleased and relaxed. "I could afford it. Now, go sit down." Before Clark can raise another protest, a small child's voice speaks up from behind the man. "Good afternoon, Ms. Clara, is this...intruder disturbing you?" 

Both Clara and Clark turn their gazes onto Damian Wayne, the small pup giving the larger male an assessing look before clicking his tongue. "Oh, it's you...again. Why haven't you kicked him out yet?" Clara smiles at the boy and sighs, "I've tried. Your mother just so happens to really like Mr. Kent's interviews...so here he is for yet another one. Are you here for lunch, sir? It seems a bit early to be out of school, doesn't it?" Damian tuts and straightens up his school uniform, lifting his nose high into the air and brushing off imaginary dust. "I got into trouble today. The only reason mother does not know about it is because he was doing something of the utmost importance today-" he side eyes Clark suspiciously and tiptoes up so that he can loudly whisper to Clara-"This Metropolitan invader isn't the...important thing, is he?"

Clara looks Clark up and down, taking in the cheap suit (that's one of the man's better one's) and clunky tie (which aren't bad things, she just likes teasing the man) before chuckling and whispering back. "No, it's definitely not him."

Before the beta can protest, Clara clears her throat, "Alright. Alright. Your mom would be cross with us if he heard us teasing his—friend. How about I send you upstairs to your mom? I'm sure he'd be happy to see you despite getting into trouble. And no matter what he may say, I am proud of you for throwing a nice punch to whoever troubled you."

Damian nods his head and gives a small, but genuine, smile at the receptionist. "Thank you. I'll have to remind mother to give you a raise."

Clark sighs and moves away from the desk, inching closer to his seat before Damian snaps his fingers towards him. "Straggler, you're coming up with me. It's always so pitiful seeing you sit there alone...like a dog left in the rain." When the man refuses to move, Damian looks over his shoulder to raise a brow at the other. "Are you coming or not?" Clark practically vibrates in excitement and speed walks to the open elevator, playfully sticking his tongue out at Clara before the doors close. "U-Uh, thank you so much for allowing me to come up with you! But what's with everyone comparing me to a sad, lost or wet dog?"

Damian just hums noncommittally while loosening the tie around his neck, he hates these things and wishes whoever invented them had a horrible life.

Clark clears his throat at the silence and works on fixing his hair and tie before stepping out of the elevator with the small pup, willingly ignoring the piercing glare sent his way as they both stand outside the omega's office. "Listen up, Kent. I'm going to enter first, because my face is the first one my mother should see, and then after that you can come ruin everything with your sudden appearance, okay?" Clark feels like crying. He doesn't know what he did wrong to get Bruce's kids to be (what is it that Jason says) out of pocket with him, but he just nods slowly and nervously stands as far away from the door as possible so that he's not seen through the glass by the hardworking omega.

Damian narrows his eyes at the taller one last time before opening up the door and smiling brightly at his mother once getting his attention, "Hello mother. How is everything going today?"

Bruce blinks in surprise for a moment before immediately pushing away from his desk and standing up to greet his baby son, "Damian? What are you doing here, baby? Did something happen at school today? Why are you here? Did-" the omega suddenly looks distressed-"did someone get hurt?" Damian hugs onto the omega's legs, rubbing his neck on the soft fabric of the pants so that Bruce smells like pup. "I'm here because I wanted to see you, mommy. I got in trouble at school because someone-as per usual-was being an idiot. Again, I'm here cause I'm in trouble and wanted to see you. And the only person that got hurt was that little idiot at school. But, if someone were to get hurt that we know, I bet it'd be that idiot brother of mine."

Bruce slowly finds himself relaxing as his questions were answered one by one, gently running his hand through his pup's hair while shaking his head fondly.

"I've told you about getting into fights at school if you can help it, baby. But, I'm always happy to see my little boy." Bruce purrs happily and picks Damian up, "Please try not to call your classmates idiots...even if it can seem true sometimes. And don't call your brothers idiots either...though, which one are you talking about hurting himself?" Damian nuzzles into his mom's neck with a small squeak, "I don't know? Maybe the one that would do a flip off of the Empire State Building just to prove he could do it all because he was in the circus. Oh, or the one that would encourage the stupid behavior of the first one. Or, the one who would die because he can't properly care for himself–oh, wait a minute. That's all of them."

Bruce sighs softly and bumps his forehead softly against Damian's, "Don't be that way to them. All of my babies are very smart, and I won't have anyone, even you, saying otherwise."

Damian gets so caught up in snuggling his mother, that he almost forgets about the reporter he (practically) promised to let see Bruce. Key word being: almost, as the sudden flash of a horrid looking patched pattern of the man's sleeve, seen out the corner of his eyes, jump scares the poor boy into looking out of the window and towards Clark Kent, who looks dejectedly into the glass as though he wants to be a part of what's going on.

Ugh! He really is pitiful.

Damian clears his throat and quickly scents Bruce more before speaking up, "Ah...yes. I almost forgot that I wasn't the only one to come up here to visit you-" he directs his snuggle drunk mom's soft gaze to the reporter in the window-"That...reporter you insist be one of the only people to interview you is right outside. It wasn't time for your appointment yet, but I brought him up with me anyway." Because he looks like a kicked dog whenever he sees him, is left unsaid, but he's sure his mom understands. Damian pouts slightly at the way Bruce perks up and looks towards the door, a startled flush tinting the omega's cheeks pink as he automatically makes sure his hair and suit look good for his special guest. "Why didn't you bring him in with you? I look like a horrible person making him wait outside like this."

Damian clings onto the omega tightly, pursing his lips in displeasure while glaring at where the beta stands outside.

"Maybe he should learn how to actually be punctual for once in his life, rather than coming when you aren't yet prepared. And mother could never look terrible-" the pup perks up when complimenting the omega, his squishy cheeks rounding out until his eyes squint as he smiles-"you are the prettiest person ever. I look like you, so I must be pretty too." Bruce chuckles fondly at the compliment and peppers his son's chubby face with kisses, "You and your siblings are such flatterers, you know that? And you-" he boops Damian's button nose softly-"are adorable. You're just my pup, my baby, my little boy whom I love so dearly." Damian shouts in mock protest as he's cuddled close to his mom's chest, accidentally giggling when the older playfully bites the ticklish side of his neck and squirming as the omega keeps it up with a few laughs of his own. "M-Momma—stooop!" Bruce blows a raspberry into the tan skin and inhales the calming scent of his pup, getting one last tickle in before kissing the boy's face.

"Okay, okay. I stopped. Satisfied?"

Damian hides his face in Bruce's neck, raising his shoulders up to his jawline just as a precaution while nodding. "Yes."

Bruce smiles softly and kisses the crown of his pup's head before shaking off his nerves and opening up the door for Clark, looking up at the tall beta fondly when he just stands in place. "I hope I haven't become a stranger to you?" Clark snaps out of his daze when the omega addresses him, blinking away the brain fog and smiling down happily at finally seeing the man of his dreams. "H-Huh?"

Clark scratches the back of his head bashfully when Bruce giggles at him, "What? What did I do? Why are you laughing at me?"

The omega scrunches his nose in an attempt to stop laughing. A thing that usually isn't hard for the billionaire as he controls his facial expressions all the time being Batman, but leave it to Clark to achieve what seems like the impossible. "I-It's not you, per se, not in a bad way. I just think that you're cute-" Bruce smiles kindly and ushers the taller into the room, unaware of the now disgruntled pup in his arms-"You usually are so talkative whenever you come up, but some reason you are being really quiet this time." Clark can feel the air leave his lungs as Bruce flutters his long eyelashes up at him, the look screaming genuine in a way that the omega usually doesn't show in public, as though this is just Bruce himself choosing to do this and not Brucie.

Something about it also is a bit more reserved and shy than usual as he juts out his lower lip into a pout.

"Has my beauty finally stunned you into silence, maybe?"

Clark doesn't know what he looks like right now...but he knows it's probably stupid. His brain feels like it's turned into mush at how...soft and eager the omega looks as he asks the question.

'Everything about you has.'

Is what Clark thinks...or that's what he thought he thought at least. He must have said it out loud as Bruce's pout disappears into a surprised look, as though his mind is processing what was said before he ducks his head shyly.

Yeah, he definitely said something out loud. The look Damian is giving Clark makes the man fear for his life.

"U-Uh...I'm sorry for saying that out loud...ha, ha, ha. I just—you—I never really have gotten to see you interact with your kids much, you know? They usually rush off when I'm around or don't talk. So, it was nice to see you be...uh, a mom just now."

The silence is deafening.

God, why is it so quiet?

Clark blushes something fierce and feels like being launched into a red sun, anything to escape the embarrassment of his big mouth. However, the regret is quickly replaced with one of satisfaction as that pleasing scent from before escapes Bruce's scent patches...and it smells...pleased? Happy? Satisfied?

Clark swallows nervously and stands a little taller, clearing his throat to get Bruce to look back up at him before giving the final tier to his compliment cake. "And I just think that it's a great look on you. I can tell you love your pups dearly, Bruce. And that's admirable." He holds his breath. Gosh, he hopes that didn't sound demeaning or anything? That's definitely not the route Clark was trying to go, but what if that's how he made it sound? He just...just thinks being a mom fits Bruce, especially witnessing that affection in person. It's almost unreal how gorgeous the man acts when he's...acting like a mother.

Oh, gosh.

Does that sound horrible?

Clark slowly spirals internally the longer Bruce just stares at him. Is this some weird fetish thing he has? He's not just thinking this way because he's objectifying being an omega or a mother?

Because if so. Someone should just shoot him with Kryptonite for being like a lot of these alphas in the world.

But, by only nothing short of a miracle, Bruce finally reacts with the deepest blush he's pulled from the omega yet. That hidden scent that only Clark can smell drifting the hidden alpha's way, causing his pupil's to dilate at the happy and (admittedly) alluring smell coming from the shorter. It should be impossible to smell this good, shouldn't it? Clark fists his suit pants at the overwhelming scents coming from the omega, detecting a smell that is more similar to–no? No way.

Clark inhales deeply (without being noticed) and closes his eyes for just a second to focus on that one particular smell, stiffening up when realizing the omega is releasing a scent of gratification.

And he wouldn't call it a sexual one exactly.

Even though there is a hint of that sort of pleasure in the scent as well.

No.

Right now. Right now Bruce seems to be releasing a scent similar to the one's omegas release when they find a desirable mate.

Clark's eyes bug open. Internally screaming, gagging, throwing up (all in good ways. I promise) at how his simple words have caused Bruce to react in such a way.

The reporter has to fight his inner alpha so hard right now. It's jumping the gun and practically demanding he make Bruce his right now so that the omega's family can finally become his own and they can get an early start of making pups of their own. But, he has to remind that eager part of him that Bruce's kids seem to not even like him...and that is one of the most important steps is to at least have them be comfortable enough around him before doing anything with or to the omega.

Bruce's soft voice finally speaks up, cutting through some of Clark's troublesome thoughts. "I...u-um..."

Clark feels like howling with his inner alpha at the sight of the shorter hiding his still red face in Damian's fluffy hair. "Thank you...t-that is always such a-a compliment to me. It reassures me that I'm doing something right with these pups of mine." Bruce looks up at the alpha before glancing away timidly and turning his gaze back up to the taller man once more, the way his cheeks push up and round out all to similar to Damian's face when he smiles big, the sight enough to have Clark wanting to bow and thank the omega for gracing him with such a sight. "Especially coming from you, Clark. I...admire you a lot, so thank you for the compliment-" he hesitates for a moment before pushing onwards-"and I'm sure that whatever omega gets to be yours someday will be so lucky."

It takes everything inside of Bruce to say that last part. A slightly bitter feeling in his mouth as the weight of what he just said settles on his tongue.

Before Clark can respond to the comment, a puppy's call bursts the two adults bubbles, both men looking down at Damian who's face is now lifted from the omega's neck. The boy huffs and squeaks in irritation while fisting his mom's suit jacket in his small hands and tugging desperately, "He's not cute!" Bruce and Clark are both taken aback by the random outburst, the omega rubbing Damian's back comfortingly as he thinks about what he did wrong.

A subtle hand movement from the corner of his eyes gets Bruce's attention, the man looking up at Clark and furrowing his brows curiously as the man mouths something to him.

The omega squints at the taller man's lips in concentration before the realization hits him.

That's right. He called Clark cute earlier.

Bruce tries to hold back his amused chuckle and bounces the pup slightly to get his attention, "Ah...is this because I said Clark is cute?" Damian's brows furrow more and he lets out a small growl, looking betrayed as his mother responds by giggling at him. Bruce coos at the hurt look he receives from the boy and clears his throat, "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to laugh. But adorable and cute are two different things, right? I think adorable is much more endearing than cute is."

Damian perks up at that and smiles innocently, "So that means he's actually ugly?"

Bruce shakes his head and looks at Clark apologetically, "That's not what that means. I just think that out of the both of you..." he trails off to build anticipation, smirking slightly at the insistent tugs to hurry up from his pup. Surprising the boy by suddenly attacking his neck again. "That you are my baby-" a ticklish nibble to the soft skin-"my pup-" a gentle brush of his nose to the neck glands-"my everything in life and more!" Bruce ends with a loud, over exaggerated eating noise to the neck as he digs into that weak spot, chuckling himself at the squirming pup's loud belly laughs as he tries to escape the omega's attack. "And therefore, that means that out of the two of you, your cuteness will always triumph his." Damian squeals (though he would insist otherwise) at Bruce getting one last nibble in before releasing him, causing the boy to slump against his chest again, his small hands releasing the collar of his mother's suit to now wrap around his tie absentmindedly. "Okay-" he purses his lips and fiddles with the tie-"I'll stake my claim on both titles until I'm pretty like you."

Bruce's face hurts from all the smiling he's doing right now, but he hums in satisfaction at how his pup is learning to be content with being a child more and more everyday. Placing a gentle kiss to the pup's forehead before refocusing on Clark.

"I'm sorry for taking so long to start our interview. I'm pretty sure we should have started already?"

Bruce smiles apologetically before heading towards his desk chair, making sure Damian is situated just fine in his lap before gesturing for the beta to take his seat. "Don't be a stranger today. We'll do everything as usual, the only difference is that Damian is here for it. Okay?"

The only difference?

Does the omega truly not realize what he's doing to Clark and all of his instincts and desires right now? How can he focus on everything else when all he wants to do is watch Bruce be a mom all day, and he truly means that respectfully. It's probably dangerous how...fulfilled Clark himself feels just from watching the family–heck, even reading about them in the papers is enough to bring out that warm, fluffy feeling of contentment. As though he's watching a family of his own just simply be.

Sigh...

Clark realizes how much he wants to have a family of his own every time he's around the omega.

But what's worse is the constant realization and confirmation that he wants all of those things with Bruce alone. And isn't that taking his wishes too far? All of those little moments with Bruce that seem like flirting are probably just in his head, right? I mean, he definitely is probably a little bit obsessed with the other in some way, probably to the point of imagining the other flirting back, amongst other things as well, cause Clark is positive it's not too normal to envision a whole life with someone you only talk to for work. And he's also positive that you probably shouldn't have dreams where said person you talk to only for work is carrying your pups inside him...and not even in the sexy, you turn me on sense, but quite literally imagining the ways you can love and care for your pregnant mate who works so hard everyday.

And while Clark knows he might be a little obsessed.

He also knows that he's terribly, undeniably, truthfully, a lot-fully in love right now.

Clark's shoulders slump slightly at the thought. He sounds like Clara right now with the made up word...so that must mean he really is in love.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Clark places a careful smile back on his face and takes his usual seat, pulling out everything he'll need to do this interview. "I could never be a stranger to you, and I would never want to be." 

Because I hope to be more than that to you someday.

Clark sighs softly at his own thoughts, distracting himself by smiling at Damian instead. "Also, if he would like to, and if it's allowed, I'm sure the Planet would love to hear a few words from Mr. Damian." Bruce's eyes widen slightly in surprise, a doubtful look overtaking his features at the suggestion. "I don't know...I don't really like having the children in the news if I can help it, Mr. Kent-"

Clark interrupts Bruce with a calm smile, taking the omega's breath away as he looks at the other.

"I thought you asked me not to be a stranger with you today? Why are you suddenly calling me Mr. Kent?" Clark messes with his pen and holds eye contact with Bruce, his smile remaining open while his eyes suddenly hold a seriousness within them. "And you don't have to do anything that you're uncomfortable with, Bruce. If you don't want Damian to be in the papers, even if it's just with a quote, then he doesn't need to be. That's your choice ultimately as his guardian to make."

Ah! Why is Clark always so thoughtful?! It makes the omega's heart flutter and his stomach to tingle.

Bruce smiles thankfully at the other man, his posture relaxing at the beta's understanding, looking down when Damian taps on his hand to get his attention. "Do I not get a say in what I want to do?" The boy grumbles and crosses his arms to show how he doesn't agree with what's going on, huffing more when his mom just gives him that same amused smile once more. "I'm sorry. But you don't, not in these cases. You know that I consider it, but the choice is ultimately up to me, especially with those of you who are still underage...and I don't think I could handle seeing the comments people would, could and will make about you guys. And you know that no matter what, the media always finds a way to portray anyone horrible, even children. You all have enough troubles on your own...I'd hate to add onto that by shoving your faces in the news too."

Damian sighs softly and concedes to the rule by snuggling back into the omega's side. "Fine...but people find a way to talk about everyone in our family anyway and they barely know about us. It's not our fault we are iconic and they can't help but to talk about it all the time."

Bruce pats the boy's head for his obedience and laughs at how much Damian is picking up his older siblings ways of speaking.

"Thank you, puppy. And until the day you and all your...iconic-ness can be seen in public, you'll stay right here hidden away with me. Doesn't that sound better?" Bruce tilts his head down and to the side as he asks, humming happily when Damian snuggles more into his body, his small arms tightening around the omega's waist as his answer. "Well, since that's settled, Clark, would you like to begi-" Bruce sighs at the interruption from his desk phone, whispering a quick apology to Clark before picking it up and signing into the receiver. "Clara...what are you doing? You know I'm supposed to be having an interview right now?"

Clark does his best not to look like he's listening in on the conversation. Distracting himself with small doodles of his and Bruce's names put together on the back of his notebook in different fonts.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt the meeting we both know hasn't started yet. But, Mr. Hannington showed up for a meeting, or so he claims, and he isn't leaving no matter how much I insist that he has the dates mixed up. He told me to tell you that it's an emergency, but if you don't feel like coming down, I can just call security on him." Bruce rubs at his temple tiredly and sighs once again, "Why would you call security on him? He's a seventy-five-year-old man with memory problems. Tell him I'll be right on down and that I'm sorry for my misunderstanding, maybe find him something to snack on while I finish things up here, okay." 

Clara makes a suspicious sounding noise on the other side of the phone, her computer keys clacking away and her voice lowering as she whispers. "You never know what a seventy-five-year-old man can be capable of, but I'll do what you said right away, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce sighs tiredly at the woman's paranoia (that's rich coming from him) and puts the phone back on its stand, clearing his throat to get the reporters attention, his icy blue eyes apologetic as he stares at the taller man. "I'm so sorry to cut this short when things barely even got started...but there's an older gentleman downstairs who usually comes around unexpectedly, expecting me to have a meeting with him. He's a very sweet old man with no one to keep him company, so I would hate to leave him alone for so long and disappoint him."

Clark is truly and definitely in love.

How can his the omega be this kind to people? This is exactly why Clark is so smitten with Bruce. The man is just so naturally caring and generous to anyone willing to accept his help. The reporter nods his head in understanding and rises out of his seat along with Bruce, "I understand. It's very kind of you to...entertain him like this when you aren't obligated to. I guess I'll see you whenever you schedule another meeting-"

"It doesn't have to be a waste of his time, mother."

Both Clark and Bruce look down at Damian for his interruption, the omega giving his son a pointed look at the suggestion. "We've already talked about this, sweetheart-"

Damian crosses his arms and huffs, "No. You talked about it and I just agreed because I love you."

Bruce raises a brow at the backtalk and puts a hand on his now cocked hip, "Damian Wayne-" at the full name, the pup immediately snuggles up to the man's side and wraps his small arms around the other's legs. "I'm sorry, mama...but, don't you think me being interviewed by someone as trustworthy as Kent could be beneficial to me?" Damian looks up at the omega, determined to get his way, smiling a little in victory at the man's curious look. "Think about it this way, mama-" he presses on when Bruce still doesn't correct him-"I can learn how to act and talk in interviews now, so that way when the time comes for me to say something in the news later, I know how to be professional about any dumb questions the reporters ask me."

Bruce hums thoughtfully, carding his fingers gently through Damian's hair and grumbling internally at how he can never properly stay mad at his kids.

'Well..." The omega glances at Clark considerately. It's true that he trusts the beta with a lot more information and things considered normal for someone who's ultimately his employee to be trusted with or to know, but it's also not his fault that the man has proven himself to be trustworthy and a gentleman to top it all off. But, just because he trusts Clark with himself, does that mean he trusts the man to be alone with his children?

Clark clearing his throat snaps Bruce out of his thoughts, the omega looking up at the now awkward beta as he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

"Um...if you wouldn't feel uncomfortable leaving me with Damian, I wouldn't mind giving him a trial interview. I promise that I won't record or write anything down...i-it can just be a few easy questions for your pup to get a feel of things, you know?" Clark glances down at Damian briefly before looking at Bruce again, licking his lips nervously as he shifts in place slightly. "Plus, I would be lying if I said the thought of getting to talk to one of your kids wouldn't be exciting-" at the omega's unwavering gaze stayed on him, Clark clears his throat awkwardly-"O-Only because I often see your children hanging around the office with you...but every time I come around, they run off or something. It's probably stupid. But, you've been such an amazing person to hang around, so I could only imagine what your kids were like, but I haven't really gotten the chance to speak or have a real interaction with any of them until today."

Clark laughs nervously and shrugs, "I don't know? I guess it was also a bit discouraging to see your pups run away from we whenever I come around. I've always liked children...so, uh...I guess having a whole group of them not feel comfortable around your presence is a bit sad." He paused for a second before panicking and waving his hands around frantically, "Of course I'm not saying that they are obligated to be near me or anything! That is fully up to them if they would want that. I just-I guess I just wanted to get to know them better since I feel I've gotten to know you so well now."

Bruce is silent. Damian is silent (and glaring). And Clark is most definitely quiet now that he's word vomited everything to the omega.

Are they still even talking about the interview? Bruce wonders silently. At this point, it sounds like Clark is someone he's been seeing romantically for awhile now and he is trying to get to know the family after a couple months or a year of dating one another. I mean, Bruce wouldn't mind that option either, but he's in a working environment...so the intense blush from imagining building an imaginary life with your employee is probably some form of inappropriate workplace behavior.

Nevermind the fact that said imagination is almost causing Bruce to just ask Clark to be the father of his children.

Yeah, that's definitely crossing some sort of workplace code of conduct.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath to calm down his racing heart and gently nudges Damian's head, giving the boy a soft and serious look as he gestures towards Clark. "Baby, do you...would you feel comfortable sitting up here with Clark for a bit while I take care of Mr. Hannington?"

Damian can't help the sassy reply as he looks up at his mom, "Do I...do I actually get a say here?"

Bruce playfully slaps the back of his pup's head for the remark, "Of course you do. This is different...like if I were to leave you in the care of a babysitter or something, I want you to truly feel comfortable around them above anything else. Cause it doesn't matter what my personal feelings or opinions are about Clark-"

Damian tugs on the omega's pants, his gaze steady as he stares his mom down. "And what are your feelings on him?"

Oh, wow...

Bruce suddenly feels called out by his own child (even though the boy hasn't said anything worthy of him feeling that way) as the boy looks at him almost analytically, the pink tint coloring his face once more as he does his best to meet the big green eyes of his youngest pup. "Well—" Bruce gives Clark a passing glance, his tone uncharacteristically soft-maybe even shy-as he answers—"I trust him a lot more than even I ever expected to. H-He's a really outstanding reporter...and man from what I've gathered."

Clark swallows down all the saliva that suddenly decided to have a get together in his mouth. How is it possible for his throat to feel too moist yet dry at the same time?

The taller man looks down at Damian and focuses on the serious look the boy wears. Watching closely as the boy's lower lip juts out into a pout as he thinks (like Bruce does), and how his eyebrows scrunch together and wrinkle in the middle because of how hard he's thinking (exactly in the way Bruce's does too). The pup huffs softly before sticking his nose high in the air as though he didn't look troubled before and kindly waves his mom away, "Well...if you trust him, mother, then surely I have a reason to feel comfortable around him as well."

Before Bruce can protest, the pup pushes insistently at the long legs. 

"And before you scold me for what I said. I know that it's ultimately up to how I feel...but, I also trust your judgment as my mom. I know you wouldn't leave me with someone you know would hurt me-" the same can't be said about yourself, is left unsaid-"So, I am willing to find out for myself why you feel this way exactly. Now, off with you, mother. Go tell that old goat I said hello." Despite Bruce's complaints at being pushed, he humors the small boy and gives in to the pushes, heading towards the door step by step until he's 'shoved' outside of his own office.

Correcting Damian about referring to his elders as 'old goats' before the pup shuts the door in his face, respectfully, of course.

Clark shivers at the temperature dropping in the room suddenly when the pup turns around, the boy's soft green eyes (when looking at Bruce at least) suddenly turning sharp and cold as he looks the beta up and down. "Take your seat."

What is Clark to do but to listen?

This is a whole new side of Bruce's kids that he has never seen before. Of course, he's seen the kids in passing, usually when they ran away or made his job difficult by pulling little pranks on him, but he truly has never interacted with one of the creatures the children so closely before. He feels like his movements should be slow...and it's sad to say, but at this point he's not sure if the slow movements are for his sake or theirs.

Damian nods approvingly as the older listens to him and takes the same spot he was in earlier, hopping up onto his mom's desk chair and folding his hands as if he's in a serious meeting. "Look, Kent-" the pup sighs tiredly, as though he's been talking to the older man for hours on end already-"I understand that you have this...'infatuation' with my mother, but I'm here to tell you that whatever it is that you are scheming isn't going to work on him or us. You are here to do your job—" he pauses and waves his right hand around, rolling his eyes when the alpha just stares at him stupidly—"Your job, which is what exactly?" Clark blinks in confusion and pushes up his glasses nervously, "Um...being a reporter? More specifically: interviewing the people that I'm told to interview, go to the places I'm sent to go to get information, writing and getting the facts on my stories...to...uh...name a few things."

Damian nods his head, "Very good. And because you are constantly working hard to get such information from people, wouldn't you say that there requires a specific kind of professionalism to be had during work hours?"

Clark isn't sure where this conversation is going...but it sounds like one he doesn't want to have.

"Yes. Of course I remain professional during work hours. I wouldn't be a good journalist if I couldn't remain so."

The boy stares at him silently before humming and knocking thrice on the wooden desk, "Then why exactly have you been flirting during working hours with someone who you are sent to talk to for business? And not only that! But you flirt with someone who is now your boss." Clark flinches at the harsh accusation, looking on curiously as Tim Drake-one of Bruce's many pups-slides out from one of the desk cabinets with a large tablet in his hands. Damian choosing to carry on as if what's happening is completely normal, "My brother here has compiled up all the moments in which you've made those disgusting looking googly eyes at our mother."

Tim nods his head in greeting and draws Clark's attention to the device in his hands, his gaze accusing as he stares at the older man.

"Thank you, Damian. You did a wonderful introduction to this whole problem. Anyways, Mr...Kent, is it?" At Clark's slow nod, the young alpha continues. "That's what I thought. My siblings and I usually wouldn't bother to involve ourselves with our mama's business (that's a lie), but you see, we have been keeping our eyes on you these past few times you've come to interview our mom—" a few taps of the screen suddenly shows an image of Clark and Bruce, the video playing exposé style—"and we haven't appreciated what we've seen from you: 1. You are flirting on the job, 2. You are flirting on the job with someone who is supposed to be your boss now, 3. You are flirting with our mother and 4-"

Clark jumps in his chair as someone drops down dramatically from the ceiling, the tall and bulky alpha snarling meanly at the reporter. "And 4: We don't know what your fucking plans are with our mom, so spit it out or we'll help you spit it out."

Ah...

This one must be Jason. Clark remembers the few (un)lucky reporters who have actually gotten up close and personal with a few of Bruce's kids (jealous) saying that the second eldest boy is nothing like the omega describes him as: cute, innocent, a baby, the most precious being to ever walk the face of the earth, his small little boy; and now that Clark is looking at the alpha, he can see what those reporters meant. This 'baby' is built like a reinforced war shelter or something...but the man can't help but feel like this young alpha looks familiar in some way.

A whine escapes Tim from behind Jason's bulk, the much shorter alpha hitting at his big brother's back with his tablet. "That's no fair, Jay! You got in the way of my presentation! You promised that you'd wait until the end."

The older boy growls at being hit, but it must not be as threatening as he makes it sound as Tim keeps hitting him, even going so far as to start kicking at the older one's leg, in rebuttal to the sound. "I promised that I'd think about it, pipsqueak, and guess what my answer was? A big, fat, loud f-no. I'm getting impatient with this guy's innocent act...especially since he obviously wants something out of our mama."

Okay, okay, okay.

1. Clark knows he should be terrified right now because of how menacing Jason looks.

2. He is terrified...but not necessarily for the reasons they may want him to be.

3. How can he be scared when Jason calls Bruce, "mama", with an adorably scrunched up nose of protection (because that's definitely a nose scrunch of protection...Clark can tell. And is that something they all got from Bruce?)

And 4. Why is this whole experience making him want to father his pups these pups more than he already wanted to?

Clark, at the realization that his nervousness and fear is more so because he wants to impress Bruce's kids, rather than because they actually and genuinely terrify him, causes him to bury his face in his hands with a loud and pitiful cry. 

Jason licks his lips in excitement at the reaction, a twisted smile gracing his face as he looks down at the wailing reporter and giving a menacing chuckle. "Yeah, you motherfucker (and I oop-), cry me a river you bastard. I wanna smell the distress coming off of you in waves by the time you leave this place. You think you can just-just enter our mom's life without us knowing about it, huh? You think that you can make heart eyes at him and get away with it, hm? You think that you can just waltz in here and try to take him away from us, is that it?"

What is wrong with Clark?

Why would he want to be a father to what seems like some of the world's most stubborn, paranoid, crazy, out of hand, bloodthirsty children to ever exist?

I mean, some of those descriptions may be a bit true...but, Clark also can hear the adorably sincere, protective, maybe a touch possessive (in the way pups can be over their mother's), dedicated, filial, genuinely loving and caring tone coming from these-these gremlin children. 

Clark is just beginning to realize how crazy he either is himself, or, just how selfish he can truly be right now. Cause all he wants to do is to make these pups his own and be strong for them...because the way they seem to be talking right now disturbs his heart and penetrates deep down to his own protective instincts, at what sounds like the fact that none of these kids seem to have had a decent alpha figure in their lives.

I mean, what are they talking about taking there mom away? What do they mean by his 'plans' for their mom? They make him sound like he's here to hurt Bruce and his family rather than love them.

Jason growls low in his throat at the lack of a response from the seated man, the pups scrambling back in surprise when the reporter suddenly shoots up out of his seat and stands over them.

And stand over them he truly does.

They never actually realized how big the other man was until now...is he standing at full height?

Jason feels a pang of regret for talking the way he did. What if he got his younger brothers in trouble because of his big mouth? The young alpha pushes the younger two behind him, growling low in his throat when they try to protest his protection, forcing them to stay behind himself as they don't know what happens after backtalk. It always leads to beatings and bruises...and he doesn't want that to happen to them, not if he can help it. 

"Stay the fuck away from us!"

Clark freezes at the deep baritone of the boy's voice. He sounds...angry? That one is for sure, but the Kryptonian can hear beyond the instinctual anger and down deep to the imperceivable–well, imperceivable to anyone without super hearing that is. The older alpha (though they don't know he is one) stands as still as he can be and lets his super senses do the work for him. Frowning at hearing the slight, almost unnoticeable, shakiness of the boy's vocal cords; fear, the boy is feeling fear when talking to him. Clark carefully scents the air and has to hold back his distressed cry at the uneasy, weary smell coming from the young man.

Jason narrows his eyes suspiciously at the taller and how he seems to have listened to the command to not come closer...at least for now he has.

Baby blue eyes look behind the alpha as the office door opens and Richard enters the room with the rest of their siblings. They were on standby as clean up crew just in case things got messy, but now, the older is inching his way on up to be close to Jason when seeing that glassy look trying to take over the younger one's eyes. "Jay, everything is alright, Mr. Clark isn't moving a muscle." The eldest Wayne child suddenly turns a sharp gaze onto said male, looking over his body to make sure that he's remaining in place.

Cass does the same and looks over the older man, relaxing slightly at what she sees and huffing a quiet laugh to herself at how open the other is with his feelings.

The beta pushes past Richard and skips over to her three brothers, giving a big smile to Jason in response to his protective hissing. "Cass! What the hell is wrong with you?! Don't get so close to him!" The younger tilts her head slightly and looks behind herself to get a glimpse of Clark, taking note of the sadness in his eyes before turning back to Jason and making an x with her arms, "I don't sense anything threatening from him. I promise you, Jason. Everyone is okay as far as I can tell...if anything, Mr. Clark is uber easy to read, if a bit confusing? He's thinking too many things at one time for me to pinpoint what's causing his distress."

Jason watches his little sister sign closely, snorting at the last part of her comment. "Yeah...right, distressed. Why in the hell would he be distressed right now? Because he's been called out for his atrocious behavior?"

Richard finds himself relaxing a bit at having Cass's two cents on what's going on, though he still wants Jason to feel comfortable enough himself to release Tim and Damian from his protective grasp...the poor pups look like they're suffocating with the way the taller is pressing them into the wall. "Maybe we can give him a chance to explain himself? Even if he is some big, horrible man at the end of the day...I don't think he would harm us, especially as mom can easily come up and catch him doing it. And he seems a little too fond over B to hurt us outright."

Clark blinks away the wetness in his eyes...he understands what Richard is trying to do, but it still is a pain to hear someone say that their brother thinks that you'd harm them to your face indirectly.

Jason stiffens up as Clark is on the move again, making a confused noise in the back of his throat when the beta hunches in on himself (as though to make himself smaller) and clasps his hands together as though he's begging for forgiveness. "I-I'm sorry if I have ever acted in a way that has caused any one of you to think I meant harm to yourselves or your mother. I doubly apologize at the fact that I don't know what it is that I did to make all of you feel this way, but if you would be willing to tell me so I can fix it..."

Everyone stares at the reporter in varying stages of shock, confusion or guilt, Barbara being the one to break the silence with a long-suffering sigh. "I told you guys that this would be going too far."

Clark glances over to the sheepish looking woman, the ginger waving her hand in a gesture for the man to relax. "I'm sorry about our behavior towards you...we...uh...we got a little to overzealous in our plans to come talk to you in concern of our mother's new interest, and I don't mean that to be offensive. Mom usually only shows this much interest in us...so I guess we got a little jealous over you."

Stephanie nods her head in agreement, though she still looks curious and a bit cautious as to why Clark is so interested in their ma. "Yeah, and I hope you can excuse Jason? He has some...personal issues, like the rest of us do, and he just got a bit startled." Jason tightens his grip on Tim and Damian (that he moved to holding at some point), burying his nose in their hair for comfort (just like Bruce does *sobs*) as he protests. "I didn't get startled! And I wasn't scared-" his baby blue eyes shift over to Clark cautiously as he slowly relocates himself and his baby brothers over to where his siblings are gathered-"I was just making sure that he didn't do anything stupid is all. You can never trust a stranger."

Stephanie deadpans, "But all of us met B and trusted him when he was at his strangest to us."

The slightly younger alpha frowns, "But this is different, Steph. B is-is our mama. He's able to be trusted because he's showed himself to be." The blond sighs softly in response and just tiptoes up to ruffle the younger boy's hair.

This time it's Richard who turns to look regretfully at Clark, "I'm truly sorry about all this. I feel like I should take most of the blame as I'm the eldest sibling...and I know for a fact that I didn't help dissuade the others when they made plans to come interrogate you-" the older whines as he's slapped upside the head by Barbara-"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I left out how I was one of the first to suggest coming here to do this."

Clark looks between the group of pups (because that's what they are, okay?) and finally lets his tears fall, causing the children to look troubles by the intense reaction.

Damian stops trying to wriggle out of Jason's arms at the sight of Clark's tears and sighs empathetically, "I understand how scared you must have felt when I started talking to you. But...just know that while I was trying to intimidate you, this was not the reaction I was expecting–hey!" He shouts in protest as his hair is roughly ruffled by Jason (who has chosen to release Drake...how unfair). "It wasn't you he was intimidated by, it was me, obviously."

Damian frowns deeply at the obvious lie, nipping and biting at the older boy's hand in retaliation, causing a chain reaction as the rest of his siblings join in on the chaos and forget the crying reporter watching them fondly.

It's only when the man releases a deep chuckle that everyone turns to look at Clark confusedly, especially as he keeps on laughing. "I-I'm sorry to disappoint...but I wasn't scared of either of you-" he looks between everyone before shrugging-"Well, maybe just a little boy at first? But, I'm so selfish and greedy; covetous about something that isn't even mine." Everyone is taken aback by the yearning in the deep blue eyes. "I-I accidentally said too much earlier to your mom when he was in the room...I am guessing that Tim and Jason heard me as they were hiding the whole time? But, I just wanted you all to be impressed by me I guess...I just found it discouraging how none of you seemed to feel comfortable around me whenever I came to interview Bruce."

Jason purses his lips and stares Clark down, "And why do you even want us to feel comfortable around you? It's not like we'd be around you twenty-four seven."

Clark nods almost dejectedly, a small sighs escaping him. "I know...I guess it was partly because I ended up coming around a lot, so to see you kids in somewhat of a consistent enough manner really made me hope that I could get to at least speak to one of you. And...um...I said that I was selfish and greedy earlier—" he swallows nervously at the sharp looks he receives for the change in tone—"and I meant that. I suppose you all were somewhat right when saying I had intentions, but I promise you that it's not anything nefarious."

Stephanie hums thoughtfully before waving her hand, "Explain."

Clark nods in thanks at the chance to share his side of things, "It's true that I've been...flirting with your mother-" he ignores whoever murmured about stating the obvious and pushes forward-"and I'm sorry for being unprofessional in my work, but...but your mom–Bruce, he's such a hard worker and a dedicated boss to those working for him, as well as a committed mom to all of you. And I saw that and I-truthfully I fell in love with his everything: his passion to make this city and the world a better place for the struggling, the reddening of his face when I take an interest in something he finds interesting, his care and adoration for children and youths of all ages and backgrounds." He takes in a deep breath and deals the final blow, "But especially I fell in love with the children of Bruce Thomas Wayne: my boss, crush-and honestly-someone who feels like my best friend during these moments of getting to know each other."

Clark doesn't know where the sudden confidence comes from, but he looks each and every single pup in the eyes as he finally finishes. "And when I said I fell in love with his everything, I meant everything. All of you mean so much to me and I haven't even gotten to know you. That's the reason why I was so scared, it's because I wanted you to see me as someone worthy enough to talk to and feel comfortable around, and I'm only sorry for not being able to be that someone for you all."

With that, Clark bows his head and waits for the biting remarks from the Wayne children, only to be surprised at the gentle tugging of his suit sleeve.

Cass smiles kindly at Clark when he looks up at her, the girl's eyes a bit watery from the confession and baffled at the level of sincerity radiating from the man as he confessed. "You...you already sound like more than what any of us deserve. We're sorry for putting so much pressure on you rather than talking it out...most of us aren't good at that-" she gives a playful smile to lighten the mood and continues signing-"or in my case, can't simply do so. But, your honesty is appreciated...if a bit overwhelming because of its level of sincerity. Thank you."

He doesn't know how it's possible, but Clark is falling more for Bruce's kids and how...soft they actually seem to be.

They just need a little love is all.

And maybe a father? (Fingers crossed)

Jason grumbles to himself dejectedly at how wrong his analysis of the man was. Which really is a good thing! He would have freaked out if he found out the other had bad intentions towards his mama, but, he also doesn't know what to do with this new information, because it's nothing like what he expected it to be.

However, in a rare moment of showing respect, Jason turns to look at Richard and nudges the older with his elbow to get his attention and opinion as the head alpha (when Alfred isn't around that is). "What do you think about this? About him?" Richard's eyes crinkle in that familiarly comforting way it does when he's low-key (read: high-key, cause he ain't low-key about nothing) excited about something, the older wrapping a lean, yet strong, arm around Jason's neck and leaning in to nuzzle the boy's cheek. "I...actually feel really good about him, Jay. Don't feel pressured to like him either just because I or anyone else does, okay? You were very brave today too, by the way, thank you for standing up to what you saw as a threat."

Jason would never admit it, but he preens under the praise and returns the muzzle back to his older brother, allowing his tense body to relax into the slimmer build as Richard holds him up. His blue eyes scanning Clark from head to toe, "I...think I trust him too? I'm scared that I do though."

Richard hums in understanding and hugs his baby (because he is a baby) brother close, the two watching as Damian finally gets out of Jason's hold and stands up in front of his siblings with a heavy pout on his face. "T-Traitors! The lot of you! All of you don't love mommy, for you betray him by falling for such acts!" Uh oh...the boy is stressed out right now, he calls Bruce mommy to/when: 1. To soften the omega up when he wants something, 2. When the omega is distracted with something and Damian whines for his attention or 3. When he gets distressed at a situation and wants to snuggle into Bruce.

And with the way he's looking right now, Damian falls into category number three.

Tim softly tries crooning to Damian when seeing the boy get teary eyed at what he perceives as unfair treatment. "Dami-"

"Damian?" 

Everyone jumps in surprise at hearing Bruce's voice suddenly, the omega growing defensive at the thought of his pups having been hurt by Clark at the sight of their teary eyes, until he sees that the man himself also has been crying. "Baby, what's wrong?" Bruce purrs to soothe the distressed pup, lifting the boy into his arms and rubbing gentle circles into the small back as he looks between his kids and Clark for an answer. "What is going on right now? When did you kids even get up here?"

At the apologetic looks from his kids-and the very obvious looks Richard is giving Clark-Bruce immediately mourns whatever it is that his kids said or did to the poor beta.

"What exactly have you kids been doing while I was downstairs? And why are you all crying?"

Bruce extends a gentle hand to his kids and allows them to take off the scent patches on his wrists so that he can rub his comforting smell on all of them, his voice a calm rumble as he calms them down. "There you go, it's okay. Now, I want answers as to what is happening. No one is on trouble, understand? I just need to know if anyone was...hurt or anything." The doubt in Bruce's voice immediately causes all of them to speak up at the same time, the omega looking back and forth between his children in confusion as their words jumble together. "I love you, Bruce Thomas Wayne!"

Now that voice, that voice Bruce most definitely heard.

It's loud, booming, deep, gentle yet commanding and so undeniably alpha of Clark Kent. 

Which is confusing. Isn't he a beta?

It takes a moment for everyone to get themselves under control, Clark being the first to shake himself out of his own surprise as he boldly takes off his scent patches so that Bruce knows about him. "I-I wasn't expecting for my confession to ever go this way-" he looks at Bruce's kids in amusement-"much less with an audience around. But, I said I love you and everything about you, from the top of your head to the soles of your feet I love you. From your piercing blue eyes and the way you roll them unknowingly whenever someone says it does something stupid—I should know, you've given me them a lot—to your pink lips and the way you pout them in deep concentration whenever you think hard about something."

Bruce is too busy staring in a daze up at the alpha to pay attention to whichever one of his kids cooed about the romance happening and for someone to scoot over so they can get a better view (though it's most likely Richard).

Clark keeps his eyes trained on the shorter man, standing to his full height and slowly stepping forward until he's right in front of the man, his gaze overwhelmingly fond and loving as he looks down at the smaller. "I love the way you gracefully handle the most troublesome situations in your city, yet complain about the small things like a certain vegetable you don't like in your food or how the weather is a touch too cold for your liking—" Bruce frowns at that and unconsciously rolls his eyes. "Those are perfectly reasonable things to fuss about–w-what?"

Clark watches as the omega adjusts Damian so he can hold him with one arm and pat at his face with his free hand, to see if there's anything on his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The alpha smiles and raises a hand slowly until he's cradling the soft face in his wide palm, basking in the heat radiating from the blushing man. "It's because I love you and the way you complain to me-" he whispers it as though it hurts him to realize just how much he can love someone else-"and...and I don't even know if it's possible for me to have you and for me to be yours in return. I—you are so beautiful, Bruce. Inside and out. And to be around you for so long the way I've been privileged to is such an honor, while also slowly driving me mad with thoughts and dreams about a future I don't even know is obtainable for me." Bruce's arms tighten around Damian, soothing the pup as he whines from the confession going on, his voice nothing but a whisper as he nuzzles the hand cradling his cheek. "Then...then why don't you ask me what I think?"

Clark's breath is taken away at how beautiful Bruce is, his eyes searching the omega's face hopefully as he swallows down his nerves and does as requested. "W-What do you think about me, Bruce? What do you think about us being together?"

Bruce exhales shakily at hearing the question even though he asked for it, "I think...I think a lot of things: how crazy you must be to actually enjoy being around me, how correct you are for loving kids-but especially my kids; how I think that y-you'd make a wonderful father to the omega lucky enough to have you as an alpha." Oh...is this a rejection? Clark can feel his shoulders automatically slump dejectedly, though he keeps his hand on the other's face, fighting off the urge to protest and complain. The alpha caught off guard at the warm tears dripping onto his palm and the warmth of the omega as he steps closer and closer, until their chests are aligned and Damian is cradled in a warm cocoon between the two.

Bruce's voice is small yet optimistic as he asks, "Can I? Can I be that omega?"

Surprisingly, Damian is silent this time, everyone holding their breaths as they wait for Clark's reaction.

Before Bruce can self doubt anymore, Clark lets out a happy shout and picks up the omega and swings him around, placing a tender first kiss onto the shy omega's lips. "You can...as long as I'm allowed to be your alpha in return?" Bruce feels overwhelmed at feeling so...loved and sniffles loudly, stretching up on his toes when Clark pulls away from their kiss, stunned at how addicted he is to the alpha's taste already. He nods his head quickly in answer to the other's question, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, C-Clark."

The alpha wipes away the omega's tears, hugging the man close to his chest and places a tender kiss to the man's forehead as he lets him cry.

Clark catches Damian teary eyed stare in the middle of making sure Bruce is okay, giving a gentle smile to the pup as he croons softly to the boy. "And you-" he bends down until he's face-to-face with the pup-"I promise that I'm not taking away your mom from you or the family. I...I hope to add on to the family he's built, not take away from you guys, and I hope that I can prove that to you and your siblings in due time."

Damian remains stubbornly curled up against Bruce, though he's not as stiff and weary as before, his little nose twitching as he sniffles and looks between Clark and his mother.

"M-Mommy—" Damian whines and clings onto Bruce's suit—"he...he isn't like father."

Bruce sucks in a sharp breath at the admission, nodding his head in agreement, "You're right. He's not your father...he won't hurt you, baby, or me." Damian nods his head softly and leaves it at that, dragging Bruce's hand up to his face so that he can smell at the scent glands on his wrist to be comforted.

Well, that worked out better than expected for Clark, he gives a hopeful smile to Bruce before they turn to the rest of their kids.

Richard smiles brightly and practically vibrates excitedly at the thought of having a dad (again), "Welcome to the family! Is it too early to invite you over for dinner?" 

Barbara rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she carefully pushes the eldest to the side and nods her head in polite introduction, "Excuse the family dog, he hasn't had enough playtime today-" she smiles at the offended exclamation she gets from the alpha, waving him off when he tries to play fight her over it-"I'm Barbara and that's Richard...though I'm sure you knew that? I'm really sorry about what happened earlier...but, I'm glad you're one of us now."

Clark feels like crying even more at the beta's kind acceptance of him into the pack.

Cass steps forward next and waves excitedly, "I'm Cassandra; the favorite child,  but don't tell anyone else that. I admit that I don't understand why you love us the way you do...not many of us will right now, but like Barbara said, I'm glad you're with us now instead of anywhere else. I'm glad we didn't scare you off...you're kind." Clark barely has time to respond to the small girl before Stephanie is barreling her way through her siblings, the blonde eyeing him carefully now that she knows for sure he's an alpha. "Most alphas we know personally have sucked, so I hope you really aren't one of those ones? You don't seem like it though, so welcome to the family, and let's learn to bug people together. You and me. That's our bonding time."

That was...blunt, but appreciated nonetheless. Clark just is happy at the fact she mentioned bonding with him.

Jason bites his lip when the older alpha looks at him, scratching his index nail against his jeans nervously from the attention. "Uh...I guess I'm sorry for the...overreaction, but I don't have good experiences with alphas." The nineteen-year-old finds himself blushing as he quickly spits out, "But thank you for not freaking out about it-" a quick pause-"I guess."

Clark smiles and softly reassures the boy that there's no need to be sorry, unaware to how Bruce is melting at the dad energy radiating from the man.

Everyone stares at Tim as he's the only one who hasn't said anything yet. Not that he's supposed to, of course, but it's making Bruce worry about it the boy is feeling neglected already...he knows the pup as abandonment issues, so change is often a scary thing for him. "Timmy, is everything okay?" Bruce questions softly, gently brushing away some hair from the alpha's eyes just to see what's going on in his head. The boy only stares up at Clark as though he's found something (or in this case, someone) amazing, the teen hugging his tablet to his chest as he exclaims in awe: "I can't believe Superman is our dad."

Clark's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he chokes on his spit, the Wayne family practically breaking their necks to look at him as the room descends into chaos, Stephanie loudly exclaiming.

"I guess #superbat is now trending!"

And that's how Superman found out he was in love with Batman and vice versa.

(Damian's bio parent in this is Ra's Al Ghul. If I would have a decent writing schedule, y'all would have understood that as it's in the separate Damian story I said I was writing. But, just a quick explanation for anyone who would be curious as to who the parent is.

Just know that this also isn't related to the 5+2 story I have in this series as well, as due to popular votes, the majority wanted Clark (in said 5+2) to be Damian's bio parent. So, this takes the route on what I would have done if I would have kept anyone else but Clark as his other bio parent.

Also, please don't ask me what I was thinking when writing this? I was confused on whether to add the crack tags or not, especially as I don't think this is so silly/odd to the point of me tagging that, however, I felt (personally) that the certain way I wrote things was leaning into that crack-ish territory (though I'm most likely wrong lol).

Also, also, I had so many cute endings planned and some reason went with that. I swear if y'all are mad at the ending, I can try fixing it XD, but I just felt the story reached a certain point of angst I didn't expect to have for this...so I made the ending a bit silly-stupid

You all are always so greatly appreciated! And know that I love and appreciate each and every single one of you for taking the time to read, comment and kudos. You all are the most amazing Valentine's a girl could ask for, thank you!

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 140

"What?" Geralt asks, frowning, a furrow in his brow. "I turn into a wolf every full moon." Jaskier repeats. "How-" "You were always away on a hunt. You'd just meet me back in the morning." "...You were a werewolf this whole time?" "..Yes. I- I'm sorry, Darling. I never wanted to lie." "Why didn't you trust me with this? Did you think I would hurt you?" "No! I thought I would hurt you. I'm not myself on full moons, Geralt. I can't even remember them. All I know is that the moon raises, i feel this ache in my bones, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up the next morning, nude, with a full stomach of what is HOPEFULLY nothing gross." "...You've not transformed in towns, have you?" "No! Of course not! I'm terrified of hurting someone, Geralt! That's the only reason I'm telling you now! I got the charts mixed up, I thought the moon was still a week away, but it isn't, and we're near a town, and I need you to keep me restrained." A long pause settles between them. "You want me to guard you?" "Guard them. From me. Keep me trapped in a shack and- And lock it up tight. Chain me, hurt me, knock me out, whatever you must do. Keep me from being a danger. I never wanted to be a terrifying beast, Geralt." Jaskier says, with those damned wet doe eyes of his. Geralt agrees. Because he doesn't know a world where he wouldn't. Mere hours later, Jaskier is sat against a beam in an old rundown barn. He's tied up with rope, and chained on top of that. There are no windows in the barn, the door is fully barricaded and locked, and Geralt guards it. "You really should guard it from outside" Jaskier had said. "I'm not leaving you to do this alone. You never should have had to." Geralt replied. Thus, Geralt stands and watches as Jaskier pales and starts twitching. The moon is rising. "It's coming- I'm going to be a beast." Jaskier says with fear, before the transformation takes the air out of his lungs. Geralt watches in horror and awe as Jaskier's body changes, changes, changes.... In... Into a songbird? sitting on the ground is a fat little songbird. It easily hops over the ropes and chains, now much too lose to hold it. Him. Oh my gods. Jaskier's not a werewolf. He's a... were.... werebird... And not even a scary one. Jaskier starts pecking the barn floor and Geralt rubs a hand over his face in exhaustion. He prepared for the worst, and instead is treated to watching Jaskier struggle to bathe in a trough. "Jaskier, it's too deep." He tells the bird, as it fluffs up it's wings. "Jaskier, you're going to-" Jaskier tries to take a step into the birdbath, only to fall, dunking his whole fat little body into the depths of the trough. He flails about in the water, chirping panickedly. Geralt rushes to his aid, gently lifting him out of the water with gentle hands. Perhaps guarding over Jaskier will still be a challenge after all.

[mediumgayitalian]

When Lee and Michael pull him from Chiron's exceptionally dry Ancient Greek lessons, Will is excited. When they drag him down, ducking, behind the stables, as other campers walk by, he is intrigued. When they guide him all the way back to their cabin, sit him on his bed, and then drag two stools to sit across from him, silently, he is still excited.

A little nervous, now.

But excited.

"Will," Michael says, solemn. He presses his fist to his mouth, eyes carefully blank. "Will, you are almost ten years old, now."

Will bounces on his mattress, grinning. "Yeah! I'm nine and fifty-six seventy-thirds." He peers at his brothers hopefully, trying to lessen his fidgeting and appear Regal and Adult. "Am I getting my Dad present early?"

Gods, he hopes so. He has been counting down the days -- every tenth birthday, for every kid, Camp-bound or not, Apollo sends them a gift of gold jewelry, smelted in the heat of the Sun by Holy Hephaestus, jewels handcrafted by the finest artisans on Olympus, blessed by yours truly. Will has been watching in seething jealousy as Michael's signet ring glints every time he pulls back his bow, as Cass' hoops swing when she walks. He hopes the gift is earrings -- he finally convinced Michael to pierce his lobes a couple months ago, and he's tired of the ugly studs. Beckendorf made him promise to let him poke around at whatever Will gets, and Will has been itching to show him.

And to get the jewelry, obviously. That's priority number one.

Lee shakes his head slowly. "No. You will get your milestone when you get it." He exchanges a long, fearful look with Michael. Will picks at last summer's clay bead, with the trident on it. "Speaking of milestones…"

Michael makes a sudden, choked noise, covering his face with his hands and curling forward. Will startles. Lee sighs, looking down for a moment as well. When he looks up again, he meets Will's wide eyes with his teary ones, and places a supportive hand on Michael's back.

"Will…" he looks out to the open window, shaking his head slightly. When he looks back, his face is creased in apology, and his eyes are ringed with pity. Will feels his heart drop. "Have you chosen someone, yet?"

"Chosen?" Will straightens, fists twisting in his shorts. "Chosen someone for what?" Michael makes another strangled wailing noise. Will's breath hitches, and his ears white out. "Lee, tell me! Tell me now!"

"We are a Greek camp," Lee says, finally. "An ancient Greek camp. With ancient Greek customs, kiddo."

He says it softly, apologetically. Like the time a seagull swooped down and stole Will's ice cream, right from his hands, on the beach last week. Will recognizes the hopeless tone of his voice and his heart drops.

"How much did they tell you about…our customs?"

"I didn't listen to the admissions video!" Will confesses, panicked. "I'm sorry! It was so boring! There were a bajillion music numbers and they were all kind of bad no offense and the screen made my eyes hurt and I missed my mom and --"

"Will," Michael says, voice shaking. He meets Will's eyes and Will is horrified to see they are wet.

He has never seen Michael cry before -- not even once.

"It's okay, Will. Some people don't know."

"Tell me," Will begs. "Am I being sacrificed?"

To his great relief, both his brothers laugh, waving dismissive hands as they chuckle. Will sags into his pillows.

"Oh, no, gods no. That would be barbaric." Lee wipes a tear from his eyes. "C'mon, Will, we're a little more civilized than that." He smiles encouragingly. Will smiles, hesitantly, back. "You're getting married."

It takes a long enough moment for the sound to travel and the word to register that Will is sure his hearing aids have gone wonky. He taps them, as though it will do anything, and tilts his head.

"I didn't hear you right. What did you say?"

"Married," Michael repeats. "By age 10, like all people had to do back then." He and Lee exchange another weighted look. "That, or you have to marry Mr. D." He rushes to assure at Will's panicked shriek; "Only if you don't choose someone in time. You have until you turn ten, so don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone in time. You'll have most of the summer, anyway."

There is a moment where Lee and Michael murmur to each other, nodding. "Yeah," Lee says, mostly to himself. "You'll be fine." To which Michael responds: "Of course, of course. I mean, we did it."

Will sits there, frozen.

"I can't get married!" he cries, coming back to himself. He begins to hyperventilate. "I'm -- nine! I'm a kid!" He looks to his older brothers, blue eyes big and watery. "I don't even know how to file my taxes yet!"

Lee and Michael are sympathetic. They move forward, immediately, one on either side of him; Lee slides a squeezing hand around his shoulders, Michael pats him on the leg.

"It'll be fine, squirt," Lee soothes. He gestures across them. "I mean, me and Michael found somebody. It all worked out."

"You're married?" Will chokes out. His breaths come quick and shallow, despite Lee's comforting hand. "Michael is married?!"

"Watch it, twerp," Michael warns, at the same time as Lee says: "It was a challenge and a half, but yeah, Michael is married."

Will glances quickly down. There is no ring on either of their left hands, but they must notice him looking, because Michael snorts, pinching him on the knee.

"We just told you it's an ancient Greek custom, dumbass. Rings were invented later. We just…" He makes an incomprehensible gesture with his ringless hand. "Followed the book, completed the rite, etc, etc. Boom. Matrimony."

Lee nods. He rubs Will's shoulder a final time, encouragingly, before pulling away enough to give him space to breathe.

"You'll find someone, Will. We just thought we'd warn you because it didn't look like you remembered yourself, and we don't want you to have to…well."

Will shudders. Vaguely, in the back of his blurry, blurry memory, he can recall someone saying something in a video somewhere about partners and their importance in Camp. He had not paid attention, and he curses himself for it, now -- he almost had to marry Mr. D. Mr. D. who is rude, who smells like vinegar, who always has something in his teeth, who sleeps all day and drools more than a waterfall, who scares the satyrs on purpose and never even says sorry. Who is mean and gross and the worst ever.

"Thank you," Will says, tearfully. He grips his brothers' hands in his small fists and shakes from his spot between them, almost-life flashing in front of his eyes. If his brothers hadn't warned him, Mr. D. would have made him rub his stinking feet and feed him grapes for all eternity for sure. There wouldn't even be breaks for episodes of Star Trek. He shudders. "Thank you."

His brothers return the half-hug, although Michal sighs about it. He is too short to see the smirks they flash above his head.

"Anytime, twerp."

-- -- --

next

[vssail]

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Soo... you coming?

Yeah, yeah, I know what you want to answer me. "I don't like crowded places". You're lucky I'm a genius.

If we can't go to the cinema, we can celebrate Joe Wright's 2005 Pride and Prejudice aniversary at my place!

I got the movie on DVD. I know we could watch it directly on TV, but this way it feels more real, you know? With the 2005 vibe and everything. And I already bought like a lot, lot, LOT of popcorns. All flavors imaginable. So, you have to come now, unless you want me to die trying to eat all these popcorns by myself.

You better be at my door at seven, Todd.

(Please, come.)

(...)

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: Re: Soo... you coming?

You're terrible. But sweet. Let's leave it at adorably terrible.

Give me five minutes to get there.

(You didn't have to do all that for me. But I appreciate it. Thank you.)

J

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: New recipe

Alfred revealed to me the recipe of the brownies that you loved so much. I'm cooking them right now. If you get here quickly, you could be the tester.

And again, thank you for the other night. I had a great time. We should do it again. Chicken run turns 25 this year, if you need inspiration for the next movie.

J

P.S. Don't. Make. Jokes. About. The. Apron.

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Re: New recipe

[jason todd on a ripped batman apron.jpg]

Muehehehe

(...)

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: Delete the pictures.

You have 30 minutes to delete them. Don't ask me what will happen if you don't.

J

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Mission Accomplished

Okay, okay, I deleted them. The only thing left of those pic is the one I printed and framed. I have it in a safe, so no one will be able to see it (unless they know my birthday).

Tho I must warn you someone may have hacked my phone before I got to delete them. I think so because an unknown number sent me a paypal payment and told me to get more pictures. Creepy.

Don't worry, I won't take more pictures. I am the only one that deserves to see that side of you ;)

(...)

P.S. You up for movie night tomorrow?

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: Re: Mission Accomplished

I'm taking the food, there are some brownies left. I can make something else if you want. Maybe I can cook dinner before we watch the movie? Alf handed me another recipe, I could try it with you.

I'm taking an apron. Black. No pictures.

J

From: Jason Todd

To: Tim Drake

Subject: You're dead

Prepare your last words.

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Re: Re: Mission Accomplished

Awesome! I really love it when you go full Gordon Ramsey, like really, your cooking skills never fail to surprise me. Sometimes I think about kidnapping you so you cook for me everyday, but I back off when I remember you hide guns in the toaster.

Oooh I searched through my dad's old DVD's collection and I have a full list of films that we HAVE TO watch! Not gonna lie, the options could be better - but I want to keep the DVD thing. It's like our thing <3

[top best films to watch with jay - millenial dad edition.pdf]

We could do a Final destination marathon. I think another one is coming out this year so the timing is perfect!

(I know, no crowded rooms. I'll just get it somehow, don't worry.)

See you tomorrow, Todd :)

(...)

From: Tim Drake

To: (...)

Subject: Calm your dog

Yeah, I know, I'm sorry for hacking your phone. I was curious about who was Jason talking to through e-mails in this day and age. The picture was there and I couldn't let it go, yk? Now, I would appreciate if you talked with him to calm him down. I'm afraid his threat may not be as light as I thought it was.

Please, be quick. I think I'm hearing things in my appartment.

T. D.

[pandapetals]

Shits and Giggles

You and Logan get drunk together and get caught by Xavier.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

“I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had,” you giggled, waving the half-empty beer bottle in your hand like it was some kind of trophy. The world felt a little off-kilter, the living room spinning just slightly as you leaned against Logan on the couch.

Logan, slouched back with his legs stretched out and another empty bottle at his feet, glanced over at you, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “Sweetheart,” he slurred, his words tinged with a hiccup, “I think we both gave up on countin' somewhere between… hell, I don’t even know.”

You snorted, dissolving into another fit of laughter that made your shoulders shake. “Between 'hell' and 'I don’t even know,'” you echoed, the absurdity of it striking you as the funniest thing in the world. “That’s gotta be at least… five?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for another bottle on the coffee table, nearly knocking over a half-eaten bowl of pretzels in the process. “Five? Try ten,” he shot back, popping the cap off with a quick twist of his wrist. “You’re lightweight compared to me.” He took a swig, then glanced sideways at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Remember when you tried to out-drink me that one time?”

You burst into laughter again, nearly spilling your drink. “Oh my God, yes! I thought I could handle whiskey,” you said, still giggling as you shook your head. “And then I ended up singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' on the pool table.”

Logan snorted, his deep laugh rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, you were ‘Galileo’-ing so hard, I thought you were gonna fall off.” He pointed at you with the neck of his beer bottle, his grin widening. “I’ve never seen anyone get that passionate about Freddie Mercury.”

“Well,” you said, trying to compose yourself but failing as another hiccup escaped, “Freddie Mercury is worth the passion.”

You both dissolved into another round of laughter, so loud that the quiet mansion seemed to echo with it, the kind of laughter that left your sides hurting and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. It felt like the whole world had shrunk down to just the two of you—your private little universe of bad jokes and too many drinks.

Logan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “We gotta be the loudest drunks in history,” he murmured, his voice low and amused. “Pretty sure we just woke up half the neighborhood.”

“Hey, it’s not our fault the living room has such good acoustics,” you said, hiccuping again, then letting out a laugh that quickly turned into a snort. “Plus, if the mansion was really soundproof like Xavier claims, we’d be fine.”

As if on cue, Xavier wheeled in, looking every bit the stern headmaster despite the lateness of the hour. His brows were raised in a mixture of amusement and disapproval. “And what, may I ask, is the cause of all this ruckus?” he said, his voice calm but carrying that unmistakable tone of authority.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying—and failing—to stifle your laughter. “Professor!” you said, eyes wide as you tried to sit up straighter. “Uh, we were just… um…”

“Studying the effects of… alcohol on… something,” Logan added, attempting to sound serious but breaking into a grin halfway through the sentence. “Purely scientific. For… education.”

Xavier sighed, shaking his head as he looked between the two of you. “At this hour? In the middle of the living room?” His lips quirked slightly like he was fighting the urge to smile. “You do realize there are other people in this mansion who require sleep?”

You bit your lip, trying to look contrite but still giggling. “Sorry, Professor,” you said, though your voice wobbled with barely contained laughter. “We’ll keep it down. Pinky promise.” You held up your little finger as if to seal the deal.

Logan glanced at you, then back at Xavier, and without missing a beat, extended his own pinky in a solemn gesture. “Swear on it,” he said, the grin still tugging at his lips.

Xavier shook his head again, a hint of a smile breaking through his stern expression. “I suppose I’ll let it slide this time,” he said, turning his chair toward the door. “But if I hear another rendition of 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' you’ll be on kitchen duty for the rest of the month.”

As soon as he left the room, you and Logan exchanged a look before breaking into laughter all over again, doubling over as you clinked your bottles together. “Kitchen duty,” you gasped, wiping tears from your eyes. “I can’t even make toast without setting off the smoke alarm.”

Logan’s deep laughter echoed through the room once more as he reached over to pull you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Guess that’s one more reason to behave,” he said, his voice still rough with amusement. “But I gotta admit, darlin’, there’s nobody I’d rather get scolded with.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as the laughter finally started to die down, leaving a warm, fuzzy contentment in its wake. “Likewise,” you murmured, your voice softened by the alcohol and the comfort of his warmth. “We really are a bad influence on each other, huh?”

Logan chuckled, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “but I’d say we’re a damn good time.”