d1stalker · 2 months ago
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All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]
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Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.
Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby
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You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 
But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.
Everyone, except for you.
Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.
And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.
Logan Howlett.
You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.
You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.
Jean Grey.
She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 
You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.
It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.
Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 
The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 
Logan was never the same after that.
 —
You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.
As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.
Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.
“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.
It’s Logan.
Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 
You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 
But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.
Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-
You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.
“Give me a fuckin’ break.”
----
Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.
After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.
You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.
Brown.
You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.
Why him? Why me? Why now?
You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.
The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.
Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.
It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.
Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 
The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 
“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.
You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.
Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”
“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”
“Logan, I—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”
You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”
He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”
His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”
“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”
The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 
After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”
Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.
“Good. Then stay away from me.”
You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.
You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.
When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.
If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  
You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 
You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 
And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?
Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.
His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 
Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 
It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.
But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 
And that’s the cruelest twist of all.
So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.
The only person you tell is Charles.
“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 
You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.
“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”
Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 
“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”
You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 
“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”
The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”
“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”
You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?
“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”
He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”
Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 
“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 
Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”
You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”
The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”
“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”
Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”
“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”
He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.
“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”
So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.
The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.
Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.
The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 
You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.
You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 
But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.
One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.
However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 
His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.
“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 
Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 
Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 
Because you are the only one who does care.
You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.
It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 
That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 
He’s across from you. Just your luck.
He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 
Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 
“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.
Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”
In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest
“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.
Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 
Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 
You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 
“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.
Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.
Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 
It’s not fair.
You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.
You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 
“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”
Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”
“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.
“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.
“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”
“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”
“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”
With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”
You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”
He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”
The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”
He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”
You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”
He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”
Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”
“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”
“What if it just makes things worse?”
“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”
You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”
“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.
With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.
You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.
Goddamn it.
You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.
Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 
There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.
The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.
“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”
He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.
“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”
You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.
“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.
“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”
His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”
“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”
He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”
His words hurt. 
“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”
A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”
“That isn’t fair,” you argue.
“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”
“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”
You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him
“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”
You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”
Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”
Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 
“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”
What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.
That’s when it really hits you. 
Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 
You give up.
This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 
“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”
You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.
— 
You decide to go on the mission.
It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 
The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.
Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.
“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”
You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”
Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”
“I promise,” you assure.
She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 
“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”
You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 
“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”
Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 
It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 
When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.
The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.
You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.
Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.
He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.
As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.
One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”
You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”
His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”
A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”
Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.
His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 
In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.
This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.
Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.
“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.
Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”
Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”
Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 
Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”
Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.
“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”
Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 
“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”
The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 
There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.
Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”
Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.
The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.
But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.
You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 
But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.
It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.
“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”
You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.
Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.
Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.
Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”
The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.
“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”
You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 
“You won’t get away with this,” you say.
“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”
With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.
You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 
Location: Florence. 
Message: Help.
Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.
His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”
Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.
Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 
You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.
The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 
Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.
Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”
There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 
Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.
“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 
“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”
“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”
The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 
“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”
“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.
“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”
There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”
He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.
Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”
Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”
The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.
Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”
“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”
Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”
Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.
And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”
You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.
He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”
He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”
Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.
“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”
He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”
Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.
The X-Men have arrived.
Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”
The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 
Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.
But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.
In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”
You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.
Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 
And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 
Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.
But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.
Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.
His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.
You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.
More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.
Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.
You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.
“I’m glad you’re alright.”
The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 
For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.
“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 
You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.
Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”
His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.
“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.
Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”
You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”
He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 
“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”
You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.
“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”
You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 
There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”
“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”
He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.
“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”
Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.
But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.
It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.
In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.
Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.
It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.
And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.
He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?
At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.
But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.
After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.
You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.
And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.
He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.
So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.
He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.
"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.
"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.
You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."
Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”
You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."
That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.
And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.
You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.
The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.
"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."
You nod. "Okay."
Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.
The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.
You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.
With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.
With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.
One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 
“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.
“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”
Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”
He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”
You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”
Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”
It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.
During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.
After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.
“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.
Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”
Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”
Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”
“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”
Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”
More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.
“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”
And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.
“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.
Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”
You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”
His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”
You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.
He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 
You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 
His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.
When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.
“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”
You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.
This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.
That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 
And that makes all the difference.
----
a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual
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lnfours · 5 months ago
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i could imagine how soft lando is after a fight and maybe you could write something about lando and reader had a lowkey big fight, and lando decided to join her to the shower (GWSJZHHAHZ) and apologize under the shower before finally creating a steamy scene with the reader
ooooh my god. oh my god.
smut (18+ please!)
send in your lando thoughts
the argument was something stupid. a result of exhaustion and frustration on his end. he hasn’t meant to upset you, or yell at you for that matter, but he had. and he felt guilty when you turned on your heels, walking away and leaving him in the kitchen.
you two hadn’t seen much of each other the past week and a half. between his traveling, his training schedule and your own calendar, it felt like you were always just missing each other. it felt like you didn’t get to spend so much time with the other recently, which was a big deal to you beings he’s hardly home to begin with.
you knew he hadn’t really meant to go off, maybe you had caught him at the wrong time. you knew he was tired, wanting nothing more than a simple break. but you couldn’t help it. you missed your boyfriend. plain and simple.
he walked into the bedroom, hoping to find you, but instead heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. he cracked open the door, stripping off his shirt.
“lando?”
“hmm?”
“what’re you doing?” you asked, but you knew what he was doing. he wasn’t being very subtle about it.
the shower door opened and he step foot inside with you, curls sticking to his forehead as the water fell onto the two of you, “joining you, is that alright?”
you nodded, letting his hands find your hips.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, letting your back hit his chest, lips brushing against the skin of your shoulder, “for yelling and getting short with you. i shouldn’t have yelled.”
you hummed softly, “‘s okay,”
“let me make it up to you.”
his words lost into the skin of your neck and the sound of the shower water pouring down around you. his hands rested on your tummy, holding you against him as you felt his teeth gently nibble at the skin where your neck meets your collarbone.
“how do you plan on making it up to me?”
his hands moved down, fingers dipping between your folds as he teased you. you gasped, head falling back against his shoulder as he smiled down at you, “‘ve got a few ideas.”
“lando,” his name on your tongue sounded heavenly to him.
“yeah, baby,” he said, “tell me what you want. i’m yours.”
you moaned, his teeth gently pulling at your earlobe.
“fuck,” you swallowed, grasping at his forearm. wet from the warm water and his muscles and veins peeking through his perfectly tan skin, “i need you. please,”
he was quick to move his hands to your hips, the two of you finding yourselves situated with your hands on the glass, his one hand on your hip as the other teased himself up and down your slit.
“this what you want, pretty girl? want me to fuck you up against this shower wall?”
“please,” you said. and he would’ve been lying if he said he could deny you like this. spread out and vulnerable, waiting for him to take care of the aching between your thighs that was simply his fault.
“c’mere,” he mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of your throat to pull your head back, your mouth opening in a gasp as he pushed in. no matter how many times he’d have you like this, the stretch and feeling of tightening around him was never not delicious.
“fuck,” he mumbled, slowly moving his hips once you had fully adjusted, “missed you.”
“i missed you too.” you managed to choke out. his hand was still around your throat and as he picked up his movements, the pressure against the points in your neck became greater and greater. your eyes rolled back as he moaned into your ear.
“i love you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin below your ear, “so much.”
“i love you too,” you could barely speak, too drunk off of the way his dick was slamming in and out of you. how good it felt to let him have his way with you.
“so good for me,” his free hand traveled, finding your clit with ease as he began running tight circles against it, “come for me, baby. you deserve it.”
you moaned his name, making him pick up the pace just a little more as his hips met yours in a consistent pace. the pace that drove you crazy.
soon the coil in your lower belly was threatening to snap, “‘m so close, lan.”
“me too, baby,” he said, “gonna come for me? come all over my dick, hmm?”
nothing could compete with his dirty talk and he knew it. watching the way your body convulsed against him, your moans and the way you tightened around him sending him over the edge.
he came with you, moaning into your ear as you tried catching your breath. chest rising and falling as he pulled you back from the shower wall. he carefully slipped out of you, letting you turn around before he placed a kiss on your lips.
between kisses he mumbled against your lips, “how about we get cleaned up and take this to the bed, hm?”
you nodded, hands finding his curls, “please.”
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lecsainz · 10 months ago
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May I request a Luke Castellan x reader who happens to be Annabeth’s older sister? They like each other, but they pretend they don’t. Thank you!
˒ ⌕ I THINK YOU’LL LIKE
parings: luke castellan x chase!reader
summary: that one where you're annabeth's older sister, and you and luke like each other but don't admit it.
an: YAY, I'M SO EXCITED FOR TODAY'S EPISODE! I think I might have lost my way in the writing 🤦🏼‍♀️. and if there are any grammar mistakes, forgive me 🙃
( last work || go to main masterlist )
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You had woken up early that morning, expecting it to be like any other—getting up, getting ready, and heading to the arena to train the younger campers. You enjoyed the routine, especially passing by Hermes' cabin to catch a glimpse of Luke interacting so amiably with his half-siblings, causing your heart to skip a beat.
Determined to head to the training area, you were interrupted by a younger camper who needed help tying the laces of their worn-out sneakers.
"I thought you had this down, Claire," you said to the daughter of Hermes while expertly looping the shoelaces.
"I couldn't figure out what you did at the end," she murmured, glancing around as if expecting someone.
You eyed the younger girl suspiciously and proceeded to show her how to tie the knot. "Well, you just need to—"
"Hey, Y/N." Luke cut in as he jogged towards you.
Standing up, you turned to face Luke and saw him handing out sweets to Claire.
"I can't believe you just did that," you accused, pointing a finger at him.
"I didn't set anything up." He raised his hands, laughing as if surrendering. "I like your braid." Luke approached, tucking away a loose strand of your hair. "Suits you."
Feeling your cheeks warm, you stepped back from the brunette and crossed your arms.
"What do you want, Luke?" You asked curiously, starting to walk as you noticed some kids from your cabin heading in the direction you were supposed to be going.
Luke matched your pace. "Can't a dear friend want to see you?" He asked, and you felt one of your hands brushing against his as you walked side by side. "Actually, I-I..." He was interrupted by Annabeth calling out to you.
You both stopped, and Luke stepped back, scratching his neck as if embarrassed.
"Luke! Y/N!" You watched your sister come towards you. "Come on, Y/N, I've got a new tactic I want you to try with the bow," Annabeth said excitedly, pulling you towards the arena.
"Go on, then!" Luke waved to you. "Mind not hitting any campers with your bow, Y/N/N." He teased.
"You're an idiot, Castellan," you teased back, running off with Annabeth while hearing Luke's laughter.
The journey to the arena was short, but Annabeth wouldn't stop discussing the idea she had for the next capture the flag.
"He likes you," Annabeth halted before the arena entrance and stared at you.
You stopped and laughed at her. "He doesn't."
"He does," she insisted. "And you like him too." She slung her arm around your shoulder, amused because you and Luke were obvious to everyone at camp except yourselves.
"He's just a friend, Annie," you said as you both entered the arena.
The morning passed swiftly, not because you dwelled on what Annabeth had told you earlier or because Luke wanted to talk to you earlier. Soon enough, you found yourself alone in the arena, searching for your broken bow and arrows, supposed to be where you always left them but nowhere to be found today. Determined to fix it, you murmured, "I'm sure I left it here," while scanning through various other campers' bows.
"You left it here," Luke appeared behind you.
"Gods!" You startled, placing a hand on your chest and turned to him, annoyed.
"I didn't know I was that ugly to startle you," Luke said, leaning against a table nearby.
"You're not ugly, Luke," you mumbled softly, looking at him. "Wait what do you have behind you?" You asked, approaching him.
"Nothing," he murmured, turning so you couldn't see what he was hiding.
"Let me see, Luke," you stepped closer, trying to grab whatever he was holding.
Luke stepped back, and you stepped forward, causing both of you to collide and end up almost face to face, except for the height difference.
"I really want to kiss you right now," Luke spoke softly, and you wondered if you heard that correctly.
Summoning courage, you looked at him and locked eyes with his mouth. Luke released what he was holding, brushing a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. He looked at you, waiting for some sign of confirmation, and you stood on tiptoes and kissed him. Luke's hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in. Time seemed to stop as your lips met in a gentle yet fervent kiss, a mix of warmth and electricity passing between you.
When you pulled away, a gentle smile graced Luke's lips, and you were sure you were blushing. You rested your head on his chest, and he placed a kiss on your head. "I have something for you," Luke suddenly spoke and moved away to where he had hidden something. "That's why I wanted to talk to you earlier, but Annie showed up, and..."
"So, you used Claire to delay me?!" You accused, laughing, then stopped when you realized what he was holding.
"Don't blame me; I wanted to surprise you." Luke explained, and you couldn't help but find it endearing that he sought help to surprise you. "I saw it broken yesterday." He extended your bow towards you. "I tried fixing it myself, but I don't have the skills of a Hephaestus kid," he chuckled nervously. "I think you’ll like."
You took your bow from him, amazed at Luke's gesture. "It's perfect, Luke," you ran your hand over the drawings - more like scribbles - that weren't there before. "I love it." Surprising him, you hugged him, and Luke let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Thank you, truly."
Luke hugged you back, his arms enfolding you with a mixture of surprise and contentment. "Anytime, Y/N." he murmured, his voice soft.
You pulled away, holding the repaired bow with a newfound appreciation. "I can't believe you did this," you said, a smile lighting up your face. "You're more talented than you think, Luke."
He scratched the back of his head, a bashful grin spreading across his features. "Well, I had some inspiration." Luke's eyes met yours, holding a warmth that sent a rush of comfort through you.
"Thank you, Luke," you repeated, feeling genuinely grateful. "I owe you one."
He chuckled softly. "How about you owe me a rematch at capture the flag?"
You laughed, nodding in agreement. "You're on, Castellan."
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little-diable · 1 year ago
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Let Me Love You - Draco Malfoy (smut)
It seems like many of us are back on the Draco Malfoy train taking us straight to hell, so I needed to add another fic to this very mess. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: The reader and Draco are sworn enemies, at least that’s what she like to believe. But what happens when they have to share a bed at their friend’s wedding? What happens when he finally lets her in on the feelings that leave her confused and unsure of her own feelings?
Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, quite some fluff
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (2.6k words)
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“What?” Her voice echoed through the hallway, eyes set on her friend’s features. (Y/n)’s blood was singing in her ears, telling a tale of confusion, anger, and helplessness. 
“Oh come on, (y/n), it’s just for a weekend, he’s not half as bad as you think he is!” Her friend's laughter didn’t manage to drown out the thoughts racing through (y/n)’s mind, trying to figure out how to leave in front of her eyes without using any magic, protecting her friend's obliviousness. 
“Stace, I love you, but he’s an absolute git. I won’t survive sharing a room with him.” With an exhausted sigh leaving her, (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, just for a moment. How could she survive sharing a room with Draco Malfoy? The man she’s hated ever since crossing paths with him at Hogwarts all these years ago. Even after she had left the school her hatred had grown, having to endure working for the same company as him. But it felt like fate kept playing tricks on her, pushing (y/n) into the same group of friends Draco called his own. 
It was a constant back and forth between the two of them. A back and forth that left her boiling in anger, jaw clenched together whenever he teased her in front of their shared friends, making jokes that pushed waves of heat through her trembling body. And now she was supposed to share a room with him? 
“Look who’s finally here, I was waiting for your arrival, love.” Draco’s voice rang in her ears, lips pulled into the smirk she hated almost as much as she hated Draco himself. Slowly she turned towards him, teeth buried in her lower lip to keep her angry words bottled in, at least as long as their friend was still around.
“See, (y/n), I told you Draco doesn’t mind sharing a room with you, please just do it, for me. It’s my wedding after all.” 
……
“You insufferable git. Was this your idea?” (Y/n)’s angry voice boomed through the big hotel room, angry eyes set on Draco’s grinning features. He studied her for a few seconds, moving closer and closer till he came to rest in front of her. No words left the blonde haired man as his hand cupped her cheek, feeling the heat flushing through (y/n)’s veins. 
“Now, don’t be like that, we both know you’ve been waiting for this to happen for years. No need to hide your crush on me. I’m not blind, I feel your eyes on me, love.” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, forcing the hairs to rise on her arms. (Y/n)’s mouth felt dry, stomach in knots, just like her vocal cords. No word managed to roll off her tongue, allowing Draco’s thumb to start exploring her cheek, finding its way to her mouth. “No matter how much you try to hide it, your body can’t stop longing for me.”
“Don’t you dare touch me again, Malfoy.” (Y/n) finally managed to rip herself out of her state, having to turn away from him to try to calm her accelerated breathing. With her heart pounding in her chest she started unpacking her bag, desperately hoping that he’d lose interest in teasing her. 
“I’d advise you to pull yourself together. We don’t want you to mess up our friends' big day.” No longer did Draco’s voice carry its teasing undertone, it was back to the icy tone she’s been used to ever since arriving at Hogwarts all these years ago. She froze, eyes flickering up to meet his bright ones, getting lost in the pupils that reminded her of a frozen lake, longings buried beneath the thick blanket of ice they couldn’t escape from. Draco turned away from her after a few moments, reaching for his black coat before he wordlessly left the room.
With a groan clawing through her, (y/n) plopped down on the bed she was supposed to share with him. Her thoughts couldn’t stop racing, once again wondering where the root of all her anger and hatred towards Draco Malfoy was lying, growing stronger with every passing week. And yet she couldn’t pinpoint it on a single event, only able to remember the teasing words rolling off his tongue, embarrassing her in front of new students, pulling pranks on her to prove his worth to those that looked up to him. 
She’d have to pull herself together before the weekend would end with her hands covered in Draco’s blood, finally snapping after all these horrible years, burying the handsome man six feet under.
……
“Green has always been your colour, love.” His breath fanned over the back of her neck, lips ghosting over the soft skin of her shoulder. Draco stood behind (y/n), hand placed on her waist as the other guests around them listened to one speech after another. A shaky inhale of air was pulled into her lungs, lips finding their way back to the thin rim of her champagne glass, drowning another sip of alcohol. 
Ever since this afternoon she had tried to avoid Draco, not daring to cross paths with the man that made her feel more emotions than all the words she knew could ever describe. It was clear to the both of them that he held a dark kind of magic over her body and soul, a spell she wasn’t familiar with, forced to endure. And yet - deep down inside of her - she didn’t want to break free from the back and forth glueing the two of them together. 
(Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling as Draco’s quiet chuckles rang in her ears, finally pulling away from her. But her peace was soon disturbed once again, pulled into his chest, back perfectly placed against his front. Draco kept his arm wrapped around her middle, smiling at those guests that turned towards the two of them every now and then.
“What are you doing, Malfoy?” He took her glass from her hand, keeping quiet as he started guiding her towards the dance floor. Soft music reverberated through the room, allowing other couples to sway from left to right, couples that looked more in love than she’s ever been, wondering what being admired like this must feel like. She followed Draco’s lead, wondering why the man kept swaying her from left to right, forcing her to dance with him as if they were just another couple invited to the wedding of their friends. 
“You see, even though you like to give off the impression of hating me, I don’t think you actually hate me.” Draco whispered the words, lips teasing her ear before he twirled her around, pulling (y/n) even closer. She felt his heart pounding in his chest, beating against the rib cage she felt underneath her trembling hand.
“And why is that? You’ve been nothing but horrible towards me, I have every right to hate you.” He studied her, intensely as if she was a canvas filled with colours his icy eyes have never seen before. Her eyes threatened to flutter close, unable to withstand the intense eye contact. 
“Don’t act as if you weren’t just as hateful towards me, I simply followed your lead. I'd rather have you hate me than not care about me at all.” With her breath hitched in her chest she stared at him, pupils dilated, heart pounding, insides churning. Her thoughts couldn’t come up with a reply, wondering if he was once again teasing her, speaking lies she now clung to as if they were her lifeline. 
The music stopped playing, just for a few seconds, though seconds long enough for Draco to step away from her, clearing his throat before he blended in with the crowd. It took (y/n) almost a full minute to break out of her thoughts, the state his words have forced her into. Desperate for fresh air she pushed through the crowd, glassy eyes focused on the exit.  
She didn’t know what to believe, confused by the words that sounded more sincere than any other words Draco has ever spoken before. Could it be? Could it be that he wasn’t clinging onto the hate she was oh so certain he felt towards her? 
……
Draco didn’t return that night, he didn’t enter their shared room like she secretly had hoped he would, deciding to stay away from the woman that would probably once again force him into a useless fight. Anxiety thumped through her veins as (y/n) entered the breakfast hall of the hotel, finding her way to the table where Draco was already sitting, pulled into a conversation by a couple (y/n) hasn’t crossed paths with just yet.
“Good morning.” Her soft voice interrupted the conversation, forcing all eyes to snap towards her. Wordlessly Draco pulled the chair next to his away, helping her sit down before he turned back towards the couple. But by then the two of them seemed distracted, focusing on another approaching couple. 
“Where were you last night?” (Y/n)’s whispers forced Draco’s eyes back towards her. He studied her, eyes flickering between her pupils and her mouth, the lips she nervously kept biting. With his hand finding her knee he reached for his cup of tea, drowning a few sips before a silent sigh left him. 
“I stayed with Mark.” She was waiting for an explanation, wondering why he had decided to stay away, but no further word left Draco, eyes focusing on hers for a few more seconds before he turned away. Her heart was pounding, forcing her hand to find his, interlacing their fingers before she rose to her feet with a quiet “Come” leaving her. 
Draco allowed her to pull him out of the hall, down the hallway towards their shared room. They were engulfed by an unfamiliar silence, atmosphere crackling like a fire feasting from old branches, warming them from inside. She parted from him to sit down on the bed she had slept in, fumbling with her fingers as she stumbled over her words. 
“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said yesterday?” Draco kept his distance, not daring to step closer just yet as a soft “I did” left his slightly parted lips. His words forced (y/n) to lift her gaze, admiring his features. “I don’t know how I feel about this. You’ve always been mean to me, and I guess I just gave in, because I didn’t want to hide from you or your friends. You’ve hurt me, but I guess I wasn’t any better.” 
Draco stepped closer, cupping her cheek like he had done yesterday afternoon, once again pushing waves of heat through her trembling body. He moved slowly, tilting his head down to brush his lips against hers, nothing more than a ghost of a touch. (Y/n) forced herself closer, properly kissing Draco for the first time. 
Their lips moved in sync, a touch so burning, so intense, both couldn’t stop their moans from leaving one another. Her arms found their way around his neck, gasping in surprise as he sat down next to her, forcing (y/n) to sit in his lap. Their tongues fought for dominance, while their hands started moving, guided on by the longing now flushing through their system. 
“We need to stop, otherwise I won’t be able to let you go.” Draco murmured his words against her lips, words (y/n) spared no attention to, trembling hands working on his shirt. A chuckle ripped through Draco, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. He kissed her again, urged on by the lust keeping them laced together, slowly laying down with (y/n) still straddling his lap. 
“I don’t want you to let me go, I need you to touch me, please Draco.” For the first time in years she didn’t speak his name with any hate fueling her words, murmuring it softly as if she was praying to whoever was listening, sharing her secrets with the dark night. Draco instantly gave in, undoing the zip of her dress, pulling it over her head as he sat up once again, shuffling out of his dress shirt. 
She helped him out of his trousers before she stepped out of her underwear, naked bodies exposed to one another's wandering eyes. Draco pulled her back into his lap, kissing (y/n) breathless as his hand found her heat, feeling her arousal drip from her folds. The two were a moaning mess, bodies begging them to give in, to finally feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. With her trembling hand finding his twitching cock, (y/n) aligned his cock with her heat, parting from the kiss to force another breath of air into her burning lungs. 
“Fuck,” the curse slowly rolled off Draco’s tongue as she sank down on his cock, walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to adjust. His hands kept exploring her body, stroking up and down her sides, cupping her breasts as (y/n) slowly started moving. Draco supported her every move, forcing her down for another kiss, hips jerking up to meet hers. 
Neither of them cared about the friends that were probably looking for them, neither of them cared about the unaddressed confessions hanging in the air, begging to be spoken. All they cared about was the way their bodies perfectly fit together, forming a bond so strong both struggled to keep on breathing. 
“Feels so good, shit, I feel so full.” (Y/n)’s whispers forced a shaky breath out of Draco, drowning out her surprised gasp as he tightened his grasp on her, flipping them around. He fucked her into the mattress, hand finding the headrest of the bed to try and keep himself controlled, not daring to mark her up just yet. 
Their moans reverberated through the air, urging them on to climb higher and higher, wanting to finally give into the intense feeling simmering deep inside of them. Every now and then their lips found back together, sharing breathless kisses that were interrupted by their moans, by their groans, sounds that clearly projected their every need. 
“Such a tight cunt, fuck, my pretty girl, you feel so good.” His praises left (y/n) burning with heat thumping through her, eyes rolling back in her head as his cold fingers found her clit, carefully circling the bundle of nerves. With her back arched off the mattress and her quivering legs wrapped around his waist, she gave in, choking on his name, begging him to fuck her through her high. 
Draco’s body kept meeting hers, only pulling out of her as he felt himself tumbling over the edge, relieving himself on her lower stomach with a groan. Their hearts were racing, lungs begging for more air, bodies trembling, a feeling so intense kept holding them hostage that neither of them managed to break through the cloud of lust they were still engulfed by. 
“I don’t know how we’ll explain this to our friends.” Her whispers left Draco chuckling, plopping down next to her. Their eyes met before another laugh left the two, letting go of a “Fuck” begging to leave them. 
“We will definitely have to endure their ‘I told you so’, but I’m more than okay with that.”
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mitskicain · 4 months ago
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navi | m.list
. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader
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© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.
synopsis: you head home from last night’s escapade only for him to come knocking on your door..
content warning: innuendos, suggestive, cursing and profanity
word count: 2k
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002: bird in teeth
The aftermath of that night left the both of you, passed out in the tangle of each other’s bodies. It was hard to slip out of his grasp and when you awoke just before sunrise—his grip around your waist still tight even deep in slumber. As you picked up your clothes that were thrown carelessly on the floor, you looked back and smiled at the sleeping figure, face exhausted but basically beaming with that post-sex glow. God if it were real, you would light up like a goddamn generator. Either way, you smiled, silently thanked him for the night, lifted some cash out his wallet and were on your way.
You heard someone say something about how with one night stands, you always leave something behind—an eyelash, a shirt, your dignity at the door. The general idea was that you’d lose something every single time, thus the notion that you shouldn’t engage in these kind of activities, the idea to you always seemed so ridiculous. Sure, maybe you lost a little bit of self-respect every time you did, giving parts of yourself away like that, but you’d always take something in return. Sometimes you’d take something small and insignificant as a memento: a decorative teaspoon, a comic book, a little trinket—sometimes cash, for the cab ride back home, you’d reason (you took the train).
And in the early morning commute back: so many other women and men that shared the same look of exhaustion, sometimes contentment, more often shame—took the 5AM train with you, all doing the walk of shame. You never agreed with that phrase, somehow found it patronizing and demeaning, or maybe you just felt it didn’t apply to you. The ride back was always so refreshing. You felt reborn, energized—like a succubus after claiming a soul. This was your life, and that's how you would spend your nights, so you could spend your mornings like this: skimping through the half-empty streets in last night’s clothes and ruined makeup with a bit more pep in your step. Hell, sometimes you even skipped all the way back.
It was Sunday morning: the bar you worked at closed on Mondays and would only reopen Tuesday night, so you had a whole faux weekend to sleep away. You passed by the church on the way back and lingered slightly, watching the crowds and families clamor out. I wouldn’t be welcome there, you thought to yourself. They wouldn’t want a sinner like me. Somehow it reminded you of your family back home, in their Sunday best, rushing to get from church towards iHop. That was you guys’ tradition. At the sight of the memory, you felt something inside of you twist and churn. You brushed off the feeling and showed it somewhere deep inside of you, where it wouldn’t threaten to resurface, and continued the walk back home.
When you turned the key towards your apartment, your dogs, Lassie and Strauber greeted you by the door, jumping up at you excitedly. You patted them affectionately and opened the backdoor for them to go run around in the tiny balcony yard. You huffed out contently, watching them run circles and chase each other within the space; you grew up with dogs, can’t imagine a life where you didn’t have some sort of trustworthy companion that would stick with you through thick and thin. When you moved from the country to the big city; your dogs, a tiny suitcase, and the beat up truck were all you took. They stuck their heads out the window, panting and eyes wide—looked back at you, excited for the new life that was to come for them.
The ceiling fan spun circles above you, now sprawled out on the couch. Summers in Tokyo were hot, but you also couldn’t exactly afford the electric bill if you blasted the AC on. At least work had good air conditioning. For now, you just had to figure out a way to beat the heat until you could clock in again. You sighed and put your arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun’s glares, and slowly drifted off to sleep—trying to make up for the lack thereof from last night. You dreamt vaguely of the grass behind your grandfather’s farm, long and thick, billowing in the wind. You, Lassie, and Strauber ran up hills and picked fruit from the trees to enjoy. You napped underneath the huge cherry vines with its flowers perfuming the breeze. The countryside was boring, but it was home. Sometimes you wondered if leaving was the right thing to have done.
Your daydreaming was cut short by an abrupt knock on the door. Getting up and still drowsy from sleep, you didn’t think about looking out the peephole before opening the door to tell off whoever decided to come bother you.
“What do you want?” You bark at the figure in front of you. Only when your eyes adjust to the light do you realize who you’re talking to. You step back a little, alarmed to see him again so soon.
“Hi,” Ken smiles sheepishly through the half open door, “can I come in?”
“What the hell,” you say, a feeling of unease coursing through your body, “how did you get here- how.. how did you find out where I lived?”
He holds up your day planner, covered in stickers, sharpie doodles, and jangling keychains—it held your work card and a small sum of cash too. It must’ve slipped out of your pocket and into some crevice somewhere when he tore off your clothes last night. You scowl at the memory, impressed by your bad luck. Sighing, you unlock the chain and let him in. Lassie and Strauber barked from behind the yard’s screen door, and he jumps a little at the noise.
“You’ve got dogs?”
“No, I don’t—you must be imagining things,” you reply, a little annoyed by the question (and his presence). You didn’t like seeing the men you slept with again, they always found ways to make things weird and awkward.
Ken shoots his hands up in surrender, sensing your hostility.
“What do you want?” You ask again, sitting down the couch, opening up your day planner to figure out what other information he could've gotten. Phone number? Email? Bank account?
“I didn’t take your money,” he comments, you shoot him a look. “Unlike someone here.”
“Hey!” You answer defensively, “it was for a cab, alright? I deserve to be able to get back safely.”
“Cab, sureee,” he draws out his words, his voice carrying a playful lilt, “400 bucks for a cab?”
“It’s a long way from your place to mine,” you cross your arms over your chest, “also you ruined my underwear, I was claiming compensation.”
“What? That little thing?” He laughs, throwing his head back and wrapping his arms over his waist. “Honey, it’s not my fault that fragile little string broke—I wouldn’t expect it to hold up.”
You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks at the mention of last night again. You weren’t the same kind of person in the daylight—easily flustered and more bashful. It was like you had two different personalities living in you, constantly wrestling for control. Maybe your ex was right.
You shake your head and snap out of your internal monologue, trying to regain ground in the conversation.
“Don’t call me honey,” you sneer.
He holds up his hands in surrender again. “Sorry ma’am.”
You roll your eyes.
“Look, thank you for coming all the way to give me my day planner back. It was a- uhm, very generous gesture, but if you will, I have other things to tend to.” You escort him out of your living room and into the hall, motioning for him to leave.
Yeah, other things to tend to do. Like sleeping the entire faux weekend away, and blowing the 400 bucks you lifted on some Indian takeout. Mutton curry sounds so good right now.
You push him out the door, and wait for him to leave, but he just stands there, unmoving. Your eyebrows furrow in frustration and you pinch the bridge of your nose. What was wrong with this guy? You swear he was nothing like the person you had met last night.
“Hello? Earth to Ken? Is that it?” You ask, waving a hand in front of his face. He stands, dumbfounded, eyes wide. After a moment, he finally speaks.
“God, you’re gorgeous in the daylight.”
You’re caught by surprise by this statement, because: one, it’s Ken Sato, famous baseball player saying this to you, but also, two, you thought that it was just something he said under the stench of lust last night. Something people say just to get others to sleep with them. Like I love you or you’re so funny or whatever. You feel your cheeks redden again at his words, and he breaks out into a smile at the sight of this.
“There’s my pretty girl,” he says, “where’ve you been all along? I missed you.”
God.
“Stop,” you look away, embarrassed, hand covering the lower half of your face. “I don’t see my one night stands again, it always turns out messy.”
“One night stand?” He says, face twisting into an expression of amusement. “Well, honey, I’m more than just a one night stand.”
You cringe. “Don’t call me honey.”
Another look of surrender.
“I’m just saying,” a cocky smile stretches across his lips, “it doesn’t have to be that way.”
You shake your head, incredulous.
“Yeah, no way,” you reply, closing the door. He lunges forward and curls his fingers by the edge, fighting back.
“One date,” he says, trying to keep the gap open, “one date and if you don’t like me then I’ll back off.”
“I’m not in the mood to get dressed up and go out.” You say, straining with all your might.
“That’s fine! Then I’ll just come over to your place,” he heaves, “I’ll bring food.”
You’re leaning against the entire door frame, feet slipping from the sheer force of him, but it’s no use—he wins, the door stands wide open.
“Please?” He begs. Your head drops at the sight of him, cursing yourself for getting involved with him in the first place. You should have been more careful, should have picked another guy. Someone that was one and done and you could sweep under the carpet—not someone who would show up to your doorstep and beg for a date.
“Fine,” you sigh, feeling as if arguing was useless. “One date, that’s all you get—and then you fuck off.”
“Yes!” He cheers, fist up in the air like a child celebrating a soccer goal. “I’ll see you tonight at 8!”
You slam the door in his face, eager to get him out. Through the wall, you can still hear his excited whoops. You walk over to the yard and let Lassie and Strauber back in, the both of them making a beeline towards the entrance to sniff out the scent of the man that had just left. Once satisfied, they headed over to your figure on the couch, sprawled in the same position that you were before he came, rudely interrupting your nap. You reached down to comb your fingers through Lassie’s soft fur, long locks of reddish hair, smooth as silk. The dogs yawn and let out a little high pitched sigh.
“I know girl,” you coo, patting the two of them, “just bear with me. It’s just for tonight. Just tonight and then the weird man will leave us alone.”
Weird, you thought. Things had such a way of turning around and rearing its ugly head. When was the last time you had a date? Like a proper one that wasn’t just a precursor to sex? You rake through your memories of the previous months and find all the details meshed together, faces and voices of people blurring into one another. You’d lost track of how many people you used, or how long this kind of thing had been going on for. Deep down you knew it was self destructive, but maybe that was also the point.
I should quit, you thought to yourself, throwing your arm over your eyes again, trying to escape into sleep.
But you tell yourself that same lie every time. You always say you’d quit but you never did.
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author’s note: guys I’m so sorry for the delay 😭😭 I’ve just been released from the jaws of hell (uni) and I’ve kind of went ham enjoying my newfound freedom (finally being able to get 8 hours of sleep) also tumblr was being weird like I couldn’t reply to comments or check my messages it sucked bUT ANYWAYS WE’RE BACK SO EXPECT MORE UPDATES SOON 🫵‼️‼️💥💥💥 as always, thank you so much for supporting my work! I hope you guys continue to enjoy what I put out here 🥰🥰👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts
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thebluester2020 · 1 month ago
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[ZZZ] Kinktober Day 1: "Praise Kink"
Summary: For recently completing a job to near perfection, Lycaon decides that praise and a good reward are in order.
Warning(s): Heavy focus on praise kinks here lol, Lycaon being typical wolf daddy here, Knotting (towards the end ofc).
Side Note(s): Not my ass forgetting to put warnings— sorry y’all 😭. That’s what I get for thinking it was a good idea to post this early while I was half-awake 🫠
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Your heart was in your throat as you stood a short distance from your boss, his eyes scanning over the report you had just written after completing a job a few days ago.
One that wasn't easy in the slightest you might add.
Your client had contacted the Victorian Housekeeping Co. in order to seek help finding a lost relic that had apparently been passed down through his family for generations upon generations! Why the family would forget such an important relic? You wouldn't dare ask the question for fear of seeming rude.
But you took the job nonetheless.
After battling through hordes of Ethereals throughout the Hollows, having to contact Wise and Belle to make sure that you got through the areas safe and soundly. You had found the relic, the item accurately matching the description!
Although you appreciated how your client thanked you a million times over for finding his family's relic, you admittedly weren't interested in his praise.
The person you really wanted praise from...was Lycaon, your boss.
It was hard enough to get the wolf thiren to crack a smile, much less get him to praise someone verbally. With the completion of this job, you hoped that you would obtain both in one sitting—
"Hmf." The gruff sound snapped you from your rambling thoughts swiftly, quickly making you straighten yourself up as if you were a soldier. "You did good."
Your thighs clenched at the praise, your cheeks quickly flushing red at his praise. "T-Thank you!" You squeaked out.
"The client was happy, he praised how professional and timely you were with his request. Not a single scratch was on his relic, even after fighting off so many Ethereals." Your eyes were trained on him as he pushed himself away from his desk, walking around the wooden object to come closer to you. Each metallic step was piercing to the ears in comparison to the overall silent room, beads of sweat beginning to drip down the back of your neck out of nervousness whilst your needy cunt told a different story.
You didn't lie to yourself and say that you weren't attracted to your boss.
In fact, you were very attracted to him. So much so that a single line of praise had you nearly falling to your knees while the sheer fact that he was so close to you almost creamed your panties on the spot from how aroused you were! An arousal that your boss could definitely smell.
Not that he'd let you know that just yet, of course.
"For such good work, you deserve a reward. Don't you think?" A quiet gasp left you when he placed a hand on your shoulder. A smirk steadily crept onto Lycaon's face at your nervousness, one that didn't befit you with how potent the scent of your arousal was.
Finally, however, you nodded your head. "Y-Yes...?" You mentally cursed yourself at how your response sounded like a question.
But... thankfully, Lycaon didn't comment on it as he led you to a room that was more...secluded.
. . .
"F-Fuck—! L-Lycaon...!" You moaned wantonly as you were bounced up and down on your boss' lap in a full nelson, your hand wrapped around the back of Lycaon's neck as you grabbed at his fur in an attempt to ground yourself.
However, that proved to be an impossible task with the way his cock was drilling your insides, his cock filling you in such an addictive way as he pressed every pleasure spot inside your soaked cunt. For such a serious-looking guy, one who looked so kept together as if nothing disturbed him...he fucked you as if he were releasing pent-up tensions. "Gods..." He panted in your ear as one of his clawed hands reached for your aching clit.
"L-Lycaon!" You cried out as his fingers carefully but expertly began to flick your clit, a hiss leaving the wolf thiren's mouth as the rapid swiping of your nub elicited in you further clenching around his cock. "G-Gods..." You continued to squirm and moan much to your boss' amusement.
"Be still little maid," He whispered in your ear. "Let your boss reward you." He continued with a deep chuckle, the noise going straight to your cunt as his breath fanned over you. You let out a shaky breath as you felt your orgasm approach you, your eyes began to flutter as your thighs started to shake in Lycaon's clawed grip.
"C-Close..." You hakily whispered out.
Silently, he increased his pace, squelching and the rapid slapping of your two bodies meeting filling your ears and nearly drowning out your moans. As Lycaon fucked you, his fingers beginning to gently pinch at your clit in addition to starting to increase his rapid circling of your clit, a groan escaped him as he stuck his nose in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. He'd been wanting you since the day you waltzed into his office all those months ago.
Pleading and begging him for a job even if it was something so menial such as being a janitor.
Usually, he wouldn't let personal feelings interfere with work but...you, you were a special exception. Especially with how obvious your body was when you were around him, every night, he'd have to go into his private quarters to fist his cock whenever he'd catch a whiff of your arousal, panting and moaning out your name into his hand while the lewdest scenes imaginable would play out in his mind.
A growl rumbled from his chest as he felt his climax quickly approaching. "So good for my cock...just want to keep you here forever—" You tightened at his words, a toothy smirk crossing his face immediately. "You like that?" He began to thrust up into you harder. "Being my cute little toy for me to sheath my cock in? That could be your new job..." He suggested, his tongue lolling out to lick the side of your face messily as his smirk only grew at the idea.
And as your cunt wept out more of your slick, white dots began to appear in your vision as your moans increased in volume.
The idea of being your boss' own personal pleasure toy... didn't sound too bad. "You'd look so good being filled every day, wouldn't you Miss Y/N?" Lycaon continued to tease and talk in your ear. "Then again, it'd be so hard to get anything done knowing I have a tight sheath waiting for me so patiently back home..."
Being fucked on his thick dick day in and day-out, hearing his praises about how good he felt as he used your body, and receiving kisses from him on the daily. Oh, it was a dream come true for you! And that very dream plus the slight pain of Lycaon's claws beginning to dig into your thighs as he neared his orgasm, is what gave you that final push over the edge as you screamed out his name.
Your back arched against Lycaon just as his thrusts began to lose rhythm, his jaw falling slack, and his moans and growls of pleasure being replaced with panting as he fucked you through your orgasm, all before he suddenly stilled as quiet whines left his jaw as you suddenly felt his hot cum shoot deep inside of you, filling you to the brim as he did his best to keep from digging his claws too harshly into your thighs.
"S-So much..." You said, breaking the comfortable silence as you came down from your high.
Behind you, Lycaon gently removed his hand from your sex before he reached into his breast pocket to pull out a handkerchief. Not even to wipe away his cum oozing from your sex but, enough to tide you over until his knot died down, rubbing his fingers along your thighs as he tried to soothe and massage your sore muscles. "Are you uncomfortable—" His words choked up with a groan when he felt you move.
"No," You responded tiredly as you leaned back onto his chest.
Good, he thought. Because even when his knot died down...he planned to reward you soooo much more for your efforts.
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l-starlight-l · 3 months ago
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A Helpful Distraction
A/n: bro is gorgeous and I’m binging demon slayer right now. I am only on season three so idk if this is like super storyline accurate but I don’t rly care. Promise I’m working on my Jason stuff so it’ll come out soon🫶.
Description: You help Giyuu with training in a very touchy way
Pairing: Giyuu Tomioka
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Beautiful man
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- Even skilled demon slayers struggle to use total concentration constant, the ability to stay in the total concentration state morning, noon and night. It takes determination and intense self control to master it. Giyuu had been training for quite some time but still could not pull it off. He was successful holding concentration during his day to day life but when it came to training he was only able to do it when actively using his sword techniques. You on the other hand, had mastered total concentration constant within a few weeks. This left Giyuu even more frustrated with himself. One morning you found him training with a dummy. You watched as he swung his sword using total concentration but then lost it right after he hit the target. You smiled at the annoyed look on his face as you walked over to him. “Need some help?” You offered standing on the sidelines. He looked over at you and then looked away before nodding softly. You walked over to him, as he tried again. He was trying to hard you thought as you studied his movements, he needed a good distraction to lighten his mood. “I have an idea” you said your cheeks heating at your own thoughts, “do you trust me?”. Your face is serious but playful trying not to make him nervous. His really was just serious as he answered “with my life.” You smirked as you moved in closer to him, “I think a distraction would make this a lot easier” you said as you placed your hands on his shoulder from behind. His grip on his sword tightened as you began to glide your hands over his arm. Your touch was gentle yet had a force behind it. “Go on” you whispered in his ear, “practice”. As you finished your sentence he began to swing his sword only for you to trace your hands over his back. His breathing stopped as his blade came into contact with the dummy. You let out a soft laugh, your breath hot in his neck. “Again” you said demanding, your hands still tracing circles on the many muscles in his back. He regained his total concentration as he moved back into position, raising his sworded up. Your hands moved to his waist as he swung down, he let out a quiet grunt he as he completely missed the target but kept his breathing up. “This isn’t fair” he said annoyed. You huffed as you replied “being a demon slayer is never fair, now again”. You placed a soft kiss on his neck allowing you to feel how warm his skin had become, your touch was obviously getting to him. This time he raised his sword again and you let your fingers trace from his chest down to his groin. He came into full contact with the dummy, slicing it right in half as he kept his breathing in check. You smiled and pulled your hands off of his body to clap happily, “you did it” you cheered as he turned to face you. You met his eyes, they didn’t seem happy. In fact they seemed hazy and full of lust. Before you could protest he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a kiss. His lips meeting yours sent a rush of heat through your body. You laughed into the kiss which didn’t help his grip on your hips. As your hands found his hair to lightly tug on, you realized your distraction had worked a little too well. You pushed back taking a big breath of air, “look at you, keeping up your total concentration even now” you teased with a wink. His face didn’t show any amusement as he tightened his grip on you. Your eyes widened as you tried to break away, “GIYUU! LET ME GO!” you yelled up to him, hitting his chest lightly, “we’re not done training”. You felt him laugh softly as he said “We can train sometime later” before pulling you into another heated kiss, his hands roaming over your body.
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gemini-sensei · 1 year ago
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Speechless | Shy!Eli x Popular!Chubby!Reader
Kinktober Day 7: tit job/flashing
Contents: cheerleader!reader, semi-public sex, cum eating/play, self-deprecating thoughts.
If anyone asked Eli Moskowitz how he ended up in any situation with the popular cheerleader Reader, he'd have no way to answer. He had no idea. However, given the situation was far more sexually motivated gave him further pause and confusion. He couldn't believe that it was happening even though it was happening before his very eyes. He thought he must be dreaming.
But as she sat pretty on her knees, cheer top and bra abandoned to the side, and her pretty smile on display just for him, it was very real. She had her fat tits wrapped around his cock, which she kept spitting on to keep nice and slick as she pumped it between her soft, pillowy tits. It was heaven in a handbasket but he was too preoccupied gripping the bench under him to do much else with that.
His face was beet red as she giggled and teased him, telling him how cute he looked getting his first tit job. She looked up at him with soft, lustful eyes, finding that she was having the most fun with him. "You're too cute."
He didn't know how to handle her little compliments and teasing, so he just groaned and let her go on. Words were lost on him anyway. He couldn't string together a coherent sentence even if he wanted to. She was too mesmerizing and had him wrapped around her finger with his cock trapped between her tits.
"I had no idea little nerds like you could have such big cocks," she continued. She bowed her head and pressed a hard kiss to his tip as it poked out from the tops of her tits. She did this a few times, making him moan heavily, before lifting her head again to smile at him. His pre cum coated her lips almost like a new shiny lipstick. It made his cock twitch.
Then she licked it up and sighed. "You taste so good, Eli."
His name falling from her lips was so pretty, it made the fog of his mind denser. He wanted to squirm and move, thrust his hips into her movements, but he was frozen. He sat petrified on the locker room bench because he was so consumed by pleasure but rattled with fear of someone walking in on them. He let her do whatever she wanted to him, no complaints as he did everything to keep himself quiet.
Of which, he was doing a terrible job.
"Maybe next time I can suck you off," she said, flashing that dazzling smile of hers.
As he looked down at her, he wanted to see more of her. Her top half was beautiful, don't get him wrong, but he knew below that she had pretty curves and rolls that were hardly contained by her cheer uniform. It was the only reason he came to sports events because she was cheering in them and he got to see her perform. She jumped and shouted, thighs jiggling under her short skirt and her tits bouncing behind her top. It was a show he never wanted to miss.
The bounce of her tits in front of him now was more than he ever anticipated to get out of coming to a football game. They were messy with spit and pre cum, soft and oh-so-pleasurable as they dragged up and down his cock, sending sensations up his body. His stomach was so tight, he knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. She made him feel too good.
"I-I-" he tried to warn her, but all his words were jumbled up in his head. His throat was too tight and all he could really do was moan. Only small syllables left his lips and he was at a loss for what to do other than watch her lead him through this.
She grinned, speeding up her movements. "I know. You're gonna come soon. I can tell by how much your cock loves my big, fat tits."
His eyes want to roll back but he stubbornly keeps them trained on her. He has to see this through to the end because it feels so unreal. So what if she said there'd be a next time? She was probably saying that just to tease him. Once this is over, he knows she's going to go running down the football field to find her a jock or hang out with her cheer friends. He'd be the forgotten nerd in the girls' locker room.
"Go ahead, Eli," she said, smirking up at him. "Come for me."
Then she lowered her head and pressed another hard kiss to his tip, and that was enough to push him over the edge. His cock throbbed and he shot a heavy rope of cum at her. She pulled her head back, some of it stuck on her lips and cheek, the rest falling onto her tits. She watched as he let out rope after rope of cum and it all came back down on her tits. She grinned as she watched, licking her lips clean.
Everything was a bit hazy at that moment, but once he began to taper off he started to see a little more clearly. He clinked a few times, waiting to wake up from the dream and find himself having jizzed in his pajama pants. However, she stayed; she still sat in front of him with a pretty smile and cum all over her face and tits. She let his cock go slowly and it fell, softening as she dipped a finger into the cum all over her tits. It ran down her skin and over her nipples, catching there until enough collected to drip off of her pert bud.
"Oh shit," he let out, looking at the mess he'd made of her.
She giggled, scooping some of his cum into her mouth. She let out a short hum before it popped out of her mouth wetly. "That was so much fun. Don't you think?"
He stared at her tits for a moment, then looked up at her when he realized she'd asked him a question. He nodded and looked back down at her tits, unsure of what to do next.
She stood up suddenly and he got to see all of her once again. She was still in her cheer skirt but her waist spilled over the edges as it held her lower belly in. She played with the pleats, watching as his eyes followed her every movement. Then she gripped it and lifted it up, flashing him a quick view of her wet panties before dropping it again.
He looked up at her, speechless. She winked at him before bending over to pick up her other clothes.
"If only we had more time," she said longingly.
He couldn't help but agree. "Yeah..."
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atlabeth · 7 months ago
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everything happens for a reason part 22 - zuko x fem!reader
I've been waiting on you
part 21 | masterlist | part 23
a/n: UHHH happy one year anniversary of me not updating!! i missed it by a day but honestly that's very in character. i kind of have no excuse for taking a year long break from this. lol. all i can really say is i lost all my avatar inspo and got really into a bunch of other things and poor little ehfar got left in the corner abandoned!!! but i could never abandon this it's my baby and even if it takes me 1000 years to finish it i will finish it. it's kind of embarrassing that it took so long for this to come out and it's a short filler chapter like who do i think i am.... but everyone is happy and on the beach and yn finally gets some clothes of her own after spending like 7 chapters in prison clothes. anyways enjoy (three more chapters left what?? will it take me 3 years who knows)
wc: 4.8k
warning(s): yn and zuko talk about their pasts and what theyve been through but overall this is a very fluffy chapter
chapter title from seasons (waiting on you) by future islands
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The days after their arrival back to the island passed by with relative ease. 
Y/N practiced waterbending with Katara and Aang so she could work on getting the hang of it again. She’d been close to mastery before Ba Sing Se, and her muscle memory was stronger than she realized, but prison and the months without her bending had weakened her. Zuko continued working with Aang on his firebending under the looming deadline of the comet.
Sokka and Suki trained with each other too, working on their hand to hand and sword fighting, and Y/N would occasionally join in to stay sharp on what Suki had taught her back in prison. Her time without her bending made her realize how much she relied solely on it, and she never wanted to feel defenseless again. 
They continued to share stories every night over a campfire. They all had plenty to talk about after everything they’d been through, especially when Zuko had been against them for half the time, Suki was leading the Kyoshi Warriors, and Y/N was stuck behind bars. 
And of course, Zuko and Y/N spent as much time together as they possibly could. They were practically attached at the hip—sitting together at meals, watching one another bend on their breaks, training against each other the way they used to, exploring the island together, just being with each other. After everything they’d been through, Y/N thought they deserved it. 
Eventually though, it was decided that they had to leave. Being in Fire Nation territory, even in the middle of nowhere, was risky. They were running out of food and supplies in general, and the possibility that Fire Nation ships would still somehow discover them weighed on their minds. They couldn’t afford to get caught so far into their mission, especially with the traitor prince of the Fire Nation on their side. 
Zuko’s idea, however, was possibly even riskier. 
“Ember Island?” Y/N asked hesitantly. “That’s… bold.” 
“We’re already being bold by staying in Fire Nation territory,” Zuko said. “We’re safe from Azula for now, but it’s only a matter of time before she somehow finds us again.” He shrugged. “My family’s vacation home is the last spot anyone will think to look.” 
“I think it’s a great idea,” Sokka said. “It’ll be nice to not fight for our lives for a minute before we make the final push.” 
Aang adjusted his hold on the reins—they’d already packed up Appa and started flying before Zuko proposed his idea—and shrugged. “I’m okay with it. Zuko and I will be able to keep training, and you all can relax in an actual house.”
“And we’ll be able to go to the beach!” Toph exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to work on my sandbending. And,” she grinned, “I’m betting none of you have heard of sandball fights.”
“We’re really getting ourselves into something,” Katara said dryly. 
Y/N smiled and she leaned into Zuko’s side. He wrapped his arm around her immediately and pulled her closer.
“I’ve always wondered what Ember Island was like,” Y/N mused. “I was always so jealous when you and Azula got to go there on vacation every summer and I was stuck at the palace.” 
“You weren’t missing much,” Zuko said wryly. “Yeah, there’s beaches, but mostly it was just unbearably hot.” He frowned. “My father still made me do work even when we were supposed to be on vacation. I’ve done a lot of swordfighting here.” 
“I missed you,” she said, and she knew that she would never get tired of seeing Zuko’s cheeks flush red. 
“Really?” he asked. “Even then?” 
“Especially then,” she clarified. “It wasn’t like I had much going on for me there. The palace was extremely boring without you.” 
“Spirits, you guys are gross,” Sokka groaned as he looked out at the sky. “Suki and I haven’t been like this, have we?” 
Katara chuckled. “You definitely have. You could barely stay off of each other when you got back from the Boiling Rock.” 
“Just imagine what they were like when they first got back together,” Zuko said with a frown. 
“Neither of you can say anything,” Toph asserted. “I can hear both of your heartbeats shoot up every time you’re around Y/N and Suki.” 
Zuko scowled, Sokka’s face flushed, and Suki and Y/N just smiled at each other. 
“So Ember Island is a yes?” Aang asked. When everyone nodded in agreement, he looked at Zuko. “I’m in need of your navigation skills, Sifu Hotman.” 
He groaned. “I told you to stop calling me that.” 
“I know,” Aang said cheerfully. 
Zuko just sighed, and he kissed Y/N on the cheek before he moved to sit next to Aang. She smiled, and she let her hand hang over the side of the saddle. 
“...I guess it is nice not seeing you two argue all the time,” Sokka said after a moment. 
“It’s nice that you two aren’t moping around all the time either,” Toph added. “That was kind of annoying.” 
“Imagine how I felt,” Y/N said, though it was absent minded as her gaze stayed on Zuko. 
“I don’t have to imagine it,” Toph said. “You were very clearly mopey.” 
“And when you weren’t mopey, you were angry,” Suki contributed. “You said you were imagining Zuko’s face whenever I taught you new moves at the Boiling Rock. You beat him up a lot there.” 
Sokka and Toph laughed, but it was a moment before she said anything. It took Katara saying her name for her to turn back around, and when Y/N did, she blinked for a moment. “What?” 
Katara chuckled, glancing at Zuko before she looked back at her. “We’re just glad you’re back.” 
Her expression instantly brightened as she smiled. “I’m glad to be back.” 
-
It didn’t take long for them to arrive at Ember Island—and if it did, Y/N was far too busy conversing with her friends and watching Zuko for it to matter. She grimaced as she slid off of Appa, one hand taking Zuko’s and the other wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. 
“Spirits,” she mumbled, “I thought I was used to Fire Nation heat by now.” 
“Me too,” Sokka groaned. “But this is already worse than all the other places we’ve been to.” 
“Ember Island’s always been like this,” Zuko said. “The good news is that it’s Ember Island. There’s plenty of beaches—we’ve even got our own private one.” 
“Good for practicing waterbending,” Katara said with a glance at Aang. 
“Good for practicing all kinds of bending,” Zuko said. “You’re gonna need to practice your firebending every day if you want to stand a chance against my father. We’re running out of time and you’re nowhere close to being a master.” 
Aang frowned. “Way to bring down the mood, Zuko.” 
“I’m being realistic!” he defended. “You can’t just end one hundred years of war with some good luck and an optimistic mindset!” 
Sokka shrugged. “It’s worked for us so far.” 
Zuko opened his mouth to say something that would definitely cause an argument. Before he could, Y/N laughed, looping her arm through his and tugging him along. 
“Come on,” she said. “Show us around.” 
Zuko sighed, though his show of annoyance was negated as he pulled Y/N closer. “Fine. It is about time I’ve brought you here.” 
“Ugh.” Toph kicked at the sand with her foot. “I think Zuko’s just brought us along on his couples vacation.” 
“Oh, quiet,” she joked. “We’ve earned it.” 
Toph stuck her tongue out. “Doesn’t mean we can’t complain about it.” 
Y/N chuckled as they walked together, the rest of the group trailing behind them. 
“Spirits, Zuko,” Sokka marveled when they stepped inside the house. “This is huge.” 
“It is the summer home of the royal family,” he said dryly. “My father never settles for anything less than perfection. It also gave us more room to avoid each other when he was causing arguments.” 
“I can’t imagine that happened a lot,” Katara said sarcastically. 
“Never,” Zuko agreed with the same tone. “He almost burned down the place a few times.” 
Aang frowned. “Sounds like a great guy.” 
“I know you’re not a violence guy, but if there’s anyone you’d enjoy fighting, it’s my dad,” Zuko muttered. 
“I’ll do it for the good of the world,” Aang said. “Not because I’ll enjoy it.” 
Zuko grimaced and opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N interrupted once more before they could devolve into this conversation again. 
“Like Sokka said, this place is huge.” She placed a hand on Zuko’s arm. “Will we have our own rooms?” 
Zuko’s brows creased a bit, but he nodded after a moment. “Yeah. There should be enough for all of us.” 
“Suki and I can share,” Sokka said, stretching his arms out casually to reach one around Suki. She laughed and leaned her head against his chest, and he looked far too pleased with himself. “Tryna make up for lost time, y’know?” 
“Gross,” Toph scoffed. “I’ll take my own room, please.” 
Aang glanced at Katara for a moment before he cleared his throat and nodded at Zuko. “Yeah. Me too.” 
Katara was too busy looking at a mask sitting on a mantle. She picked it up and glanced back at Zuko. “What is this from?” 
“One of my mother’s favorite plays,” he said. “She was an actress before she married my father, and every time we came here, we’d always go see some shows. They gave her the mask of the lead character after the end of one production a few years ago, as thanks for her patronage.” 
“Oh, we should definitely go see a play while we’re here!” Y/N exclaimed. “I got my hands on some old play scripts when I was still working in the palace, and the other servants and I would spend hours reenacting our favorite parts.” She chuckled. “It would be nice to see actual actors do it.” 
“We should be able to carve out some time for that,” Zuko said. “Between all the training, of course.” 
“You are such a downer,” Aang groaned. 
“I’m seeing the full picture!” he defended. “We’ve still got a lot of work to do—just because we’re at our vacation home doesn’t mean we’re on vacation.”
“After all this is over, we definitely deserve a vacation,” Sokka muttered. “Before all the rebuilding and restructuring and relegislating starts…” The smile fell from his face. “Wow. We’re never gonna get a vacation.” 
“Oh, perk up, ponytail,” Toph said. “We’re going to end the endless war and defeat the undefeatable Fire Lord. If we want to take a vacation, no one can really stop us.” 
The smile reappeared with surprising quickness. “That’s true!” 
Zuko laughed softly. “Your rooms should be on the first floor. You can explore and divide the rooms yourselves. I,” he looked at Y/N, “want to show you something.”
She smiled as Zuko pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulder and made for the stairs, leaving a rapidly growing argument over room selection in their wake. 
“Do you think they’ll have decided by the time we get back down?” Zuko asked. 
Y/N shrugged. “This is the first time they’re sleeping in rooms instead of camping on the ground in… Spirits. Since Ba Sing Se, I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if they go at it all night.” 
He chuckled as they stopped in front of a room, and Zuko pushed open the door so they could walk in together. 
“This was my room whenever we came here,” he said. “I figured we could share it.” 
“This is the height of luxury,” Y/N commented, stepping out of Zuko’s embrace to run her hand over the sheets. Her lips quirked into a smile. “I can’t believe you slept on a bed like this every night.” 
“You’re telling me they don’t have this kind of stuff in the North?” Zuko asked wryly. 
“No,” she chuckled, “definitely not. We were more focused on not freezing.” 
“Well, we’re more focused on pointless displays of luxury,” he said, “so you’re not too far off.” 
Zuko ignited the tip of his finger and began lighting candles around the room, and Y/N glanced at him with amusement as she sat down on the bed. 
“Mood lighting,” he explained with the sliver of a smile. “I think we deserve some time alone after the past few days.” 
She pressed a hand to her chest. “You know the way straight to my heart.” 
Once he was done he sat down next to her, and Y/N intertwined their hands together and pulled him down so they were laying on their backs. She rested her head on Zuko’s chest and he moved his arm around her to keep her close, tracing lazy circles on her shoulder. 
“Wonderful mattress,” she sighed. “So this was what you were up to while I was sewing clothes and doing endless loads of laundry.” 
“I thought about you a lot more than you probably think,” Zuko said. She turned her head a bit to look at him, slightly surprised, and he shrugged. “Honestly? When we were kids, I thought about you pretty much constantly. My father always told me not to talk to servants, but I didn’t see you as anything other than my friend. You were… kind of my only normal friend.” 
“Well, you were kind of my only friend, period. All the other servants were way older—they just felt like a different version of my mom.” Y/N’s gaze rose to the ceiling. “I wonder how they’re all doing.” 
“They should be okay,” Zuko said. “No one really caused as much trouble as we did.” 
Y/N laughed as her gaze flitted around the room, taking in all the details. A portrait of the royal family hung on the wall, while a much smaller, lone portrait of Zuko sat on a desk in the corner. He didn’t look very happy, but she couldn’t imagine sitting for that many paintings as a child was fun. What looked to be a half-finished message sat on the desk, the ends of the scroll rolling up and obscuring most of the inked letters. A neat stack of towels and blankets were on top of a clothing chest in the other corner, and she chuckled a bit. In her experience of doing his laundry in their youth, it seemed to be something he still hadn’t grown out of. 
“I can practically see little Zuko running in here after a day at the beach,” she mused. “The ends of his clothes singed from fighting with Azula, his hair drenched from swimming, getting sand all over the sheets.” 
“I wasn’t that messy of a child,” he complained. “I… I did come home with my clothes singed a couple times, though.” 
She chuckled. “I know. My mother had to fix a lot of your outfits because of it.” 
“It’s not my fault that ‘hide and blast’ was her idea of fun!” he defended. 
“Hide and blast?” 
“One person hides, the other person searches. By… blasting fire everywhere.” Zuko shook his head. “I don’t know all kids around the Fire Nation were as crazy as us or if Azula invented it herself.” 
“...Yeah,” Y/N said with a slight laugh. “We definitely didn’t play that in my village.” 
“Of course you didn’t,” he said. “None of you were firebenders.” 
“I was the only waterbender in the village though,” she said. “There were a couple other earthbender kids, but it made me feel so special. We would always play together and try to mix our bending together.” A small yet wistful smile tugged at her lips. “That feels like forever ago, though.” 
“I know what you mean,” Zuko murmured. “I was banished three years ago, but a lifetime has changed since then.” 
“For the better?” Y/N murmured. 
She could feel Zuko nod. “Definitely.” 
Their door was then pushed open more, and Suki poked her head in through the gap. A grin appeared on her face at their closeness. 
“I see the lovebirds are making themselves at home,” she mused. 
Y/N laughed as she sat up, pulling Zuko with her. She smiled at the sight of his flushed cheeks. “We’re trying.” 
“We believe in knocking here in the Fire Nation,” Zuko grumbled. 
“The door was open,” Suki said cheerfully. “And I’d like to steal your girl for an afternoon outing.” 
Her eyebrows shot up. “What for?” 
“Well, I’d like to explore the island some, and I figure we’re the lowest profile out of our whole group,” she said. “We’ve also missed out on some shopping while we were stuck in prison—we’ve gotta get our hands on some Fire Nation clothes.” 
Y/N’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea! Leya’s dress is beautiful, but Earth Kingdom clothing sticks out a bit more than I want.” 
“And I’m in literal prison clothes,” Suki said. “The sooner we’re in red, the better.” 
“That’s… probably smart,” Zuko amended. “There’s some gold pieces in my bag. It should be more than enough for both of you.” 
“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned. “You don’t have to—” 
“You think I didn’t take a bunch of money from the palace before I left?” Zuko asked wryly. “Don’t worry about it.” 
Suki’s smile grew. “Just call it reparations.” 
Zuko huffed a laugh, but Y/N cut him off as she pulled him in for a kiss. 
“You’ll be alright while we’re gone?” 
“Of course,” he said. “This is my home, after all. If anything, I should be asking you that.” 
“I’ve got the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors with me,” Y/N said. “If anyone decides to mess with us, it’s going to be their problem—not ours.” 
Suki laughed and gestured with her head, and Y/N stood up and started walking backwards. “I’ll see you later—try to have some fun here.” 
“I don’t have fun,” he called out as she was walking out, and she just shook her head with a smile. 
“You’re really dating a ball of sunshine there, aren’t you?” Suki joked. 
Y/N bit back her growing smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 
-
The rest of the day went by in a breeze. 
Y/N and Suki spent a few hours in town, chatting and shopping and even doing some reconnaissance at the end, just to make sure they were truly undercover at the vacation home. Doing rookie spy work with a Kyoshi Warrior was surprisingly just as fun as the shopping part—and after what she and Zuko did to free her village, it was surprisingly easy. 
The sun was still high in the sky when they got back, dressed head to toe in Fire Nation finery. Zuko and Aang were in the midst of training when the two of them went around back to find their friends, and when he saw Y/N, his fire died out and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. 
(“Yeah,” Zuko had stammered when she asked his opinion, “You look really good.”
“Thanks,” she said, and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “I feel pretty good.”
“Fire Nation clothes suit you,” he said, and he pulled her into a kiss. “It’s about time you’ve gotten some.”
“Technically, I wore them for a few months,” she said wryly. “Prison clothes and all.”
Zuko scoffed. “That doesn’t count.”
“And I wore them for most of my childhood,” she mused. “Servant clothes and all.” 
“That counts even less!” he insisted. 
“But thank you,” Y/N finally said with a smile. “I was hoping you would like them.” 
It was an effort to bite back her joy every time Zuko would sneak a look at her while they continued their training.) 
The rest of the day was just mostly spent getting used to everything. The last time the vacation home had been occupied was when Zuko, Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee visited, so a lot of adjustments needed to be made. 
Katara insisted on washing all the sheets, and Y/N decided to join in because of her waterbending—Aang wanted to talk with Katara, Zuko wanted to be with Y/N, Toph wanted to ask him a bunch of questions about Ember Island, and Sokka didn’t want to be left out, so soon enough, the seven of them were all sitting on the steps of the house doing laundry and telling stories. 
Soon enough, the sun had set and the house had been cleaned what felt like ten times over. Everyone had retired to their own devices except for Y/N and Zuko, who were walking along the shore arm in arm. 
“I think I like beaches,” she mused. “The nearest ocean had no beach back home, and all we had in the North was ice. You Fire Nation folk are lucky.” 
Zuko chuckled. “I don’t know if it’s luck. We’re just one big island with a lot of humidity.” 
“Still,” she leaned her head on his shoulder, “it’s nice. We should visit here together once all this is over.” 
“Of course,” he nodded. “I know I’m going to be the Fire Lord if all goes well, but there’s going to be a lot of diplomacy trips.” She felt his eyes on her. “You can join me on all of them.” 
“Of course,” she repeated. “The Fire Lord’s Earth Kingdom-born, waterbending girlfriend will be so welcome.” 
“If you’ve learned one thing through all of this, it should be that I don’t care what anyone thinks when it comes to you,” Zuko said. “I want you there with me. You want to be there with me. That’s reason enough.” 
Y/N chuckled, and she ran her thumb over Zuko’s knuckles. His hands housed callouses, borne from hundreds of hours of explosive firebending and sword-fighting and years of life on the road. She always wondered how hands that treated her so softly, that revered her, were so capable of violence. 
“I know there’s going to be a lot of expectations for us,” she said. “Especially once you take the throne. But I— I’d like to take things as slow as we can.” 
“Of course.” Zuko squeezed her hand, his brows creasing. “I don’t care what anyone says or wants or expects. I love you, Y/N—we’ll go at our own pace.” 
“It’s just because we’ve spent the past year trying to kill each other,” Y/N said with a nervous laugh. “If we could spend this next year being in love with each other, that would be really great.” 
That actually got a laugh out of Zuko, and he gestured with his head towards the sand. When they sat down, he pulled her into his side. They fit perfectly together. 
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I think we’ve already gotten a headstart on that.”
“Good,” she said. 
Y/N sighed as she moved closer into Zuko’s embrace, his warmth a shield from the cool night breeze. She’d always run cold, and having a personal hearth made things much easier. 
“I wish we didn’t have to go through so much to end up with each other,” she murmured. 
“Believe me,” Zuko sighed, “I know.” 
“But my mother always told me that everything happens for a reason,” Y/N said. “And… I guess she’s right. Because I don’t think we would be here if all this hadn’t happened.” Something inside of her twisted, and though she tried to suppress it, the words came out before she could really think about it. “And sometimes I— I wonder why I’m still here.” 
He frowned slightly, allowing a short glance down at her. “What do you mean?” 
“I mean… you know what I’ve had to go through to get here. My village, the palace, the North, this journey with Aang, the capital prison, the Boiling Rock…” she shook her head. “Countless others have died or gotten hurt trying to protect me or save me. Our group— we were the first ones ever to escape from the Boiling Rock. So why do I get to be here? Why is my father gone, but I’m still here? I don’t deserve it more than he did. I certainly don’t deserve it more than Yue. So… I don’t know. Sometimes I just can’t understand why I’m the one that got to make it when so many others haven’t.” 
“Don’t say that,” Zuko urged. 
“It’s not the way you think,” Y/N said honestly. “It just feels like we’ve beaten every single odd.” 
“Maybe we have,” he said, “but it’s certainly not out of luck, or chance.” Zuko took her hand and intertwined their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze. “You fought every step of the way to get here—a lot of the time, you were fighting against me. You’ve earned every good thing you’ve gotten, Y/N, and I think I might spend the rest of my life trying to be someone worthy of you.” 
“Zuko,” she lamented, “you already are.” 
“It’s not the way you think,” he echoed wryly. “I’ve loved you since the beginning, and despite everything, you still love me too. You kept giving me chances because you believed in me for some stupid reason. I wouldn’t be where I am without that—without you. I want to be the best version of myself every day so you know you made the right choice.” 
Y/N felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she smiled, squeezing his hand back. Nowadays, they were almost always touching in some way. Tonight reminded her why—she never felt more comforted, more at peace, then when she was with Zuko. 
“You… kind of just hit my next point,” she said with a nervous chuckle, curling into his side further. 
“Don’t tell me it’s more self-doubt,” Zuko said. 
“I can’t help it!” she defended. “I— I just have to make sure.” 
“Of what?” 
“That…” Y/N paused, her mouth suddenly dry. “That I’m still the one you want. Even after all that’s happened. After all that’s going to happen.” 
Zuko frowned, and he took her other hand, lacing their fingers together.  “Of course. Y/N, it’s always been you. It’s been true forever, even if I haven’t always known it.” 
“It’s not going to be easy,” she said softly. “I’m Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom. Your people aren’t just going to accept that, especially with you as their leader.” 
Zuko actually laughed at that, and he gave her a sideways smile. Months ago, staring into his hardened eyes used to bring her close to tears. Seeing him smile now, reassuring doubts that seemed so pointless in the face of his love—even after everything, Y/N considered herself the luckiest girl in the world. 
“Y/N, we’ve gone across the whole world doing things no one ever has,” Zuko said. “The seven of us are going to end a war that’s been going on for a century. Aang is going to defeat my father, and he shouldn’t even be alive. We’ve beat every single odd against us. I think getting my people to like you will be the easiest thing we have to handle.” 
“You think so?” she asked. The tension had dissolved some from her shoulders, her worries dissuading with each honeyed word. 
“I know so,” Zuko assured. “I’m gonna have to change the Fire Nation from the ground up. There’s no one else I’d want by my side while I do it. My people will see you the way I do, and they’ll love you just as much.” 
Y/N leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. Sometimes she still couldn’t get over the fact that she could just… do that. Just kiss him, just smile with him, just be happy with him. Yue shone down on them as she pulled away, Zuko’s features glowing in the moonlight, and Y/N hoped her friend knew she was so much of the reason she’d gotten here. 
Happiness seemed out of reach, out of her cards entirely, for such a long time, and when she had it, it always felt like such a precarious thing. Sometimes she still remembered those days in the tea shop, the night in the catacombs. 
But with Zuko finally by her side, it was a tangible thing. Something she deserved. Something she already had. 
“We’ll do it all together,” she murmured. 
“Together,” Zuko agreed. 
And she laid back down on the sand, bringing Zuko with her. He pulled her closer, tucked into his side as he wrapped his arm around her. They laid there in silence, Zuko’s warmth heating her from the inside out, staring up at the starry night sky and reveling in the feeling of just being with each other. 
Together.
-
i'll tag ppl here because it's been uhhhhhh fucking YEAR and everyone's prob forgotten it exists and i also did tag lists while this was coming out but please do not ask to be added bc i dont do them anymore!!
ehfar tags: @chandies-sideblog @zacatecanaaaa @anzanity @randomthingssssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy @whats-my-question @selfship-mishaps @ilistentotayswifttocope @i-make-questionable-choices @3leni @thatobsessedreader @lostgreekgod @oriontingz @zerode-unhinged @badpvn @mimi-sanisanidiot @adhdhufflepuff @aquaamethyst96 @hollyismentallyillhelp @holypoetrygarden @islandgayneery @pitrii-petra @jinxed-jk @veras-fanfic-reblogs @cloud-9ine @lucifersidepiece @kiskzawagnerwhore @froggi-00 @eajalova @mrsyixingunicorn10 @xxxxxxdelenaxxxxxx @cafesho @the-natureofme @whoevenfrickinknows @a-bit-late @zukowantshishonourback @settlebackeasy @jemssafespace @wildwallflower24 @calmoistorm @mich1551-blog @inutheangel @sagemastah @avrilh
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cosmicoatlatte · 2 months ago
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John 'Bucky' Egan - first base
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word count: 3.0k
summary: getting abandoned by your friend during a night out might not be the worst thing...
warnings: mentions of drinking, misogyny/sexism surrounding dating
authors note: this is my first work for mota and even though it took me a lot longer than i expected i really hope you'll like it
By the time you reached the dance hall your little kitten heels had taken on a reddish brown hue from the dusty walkway. The evening was filled with music and chatter, the scent of tobacco hanging in the air.
“Come on.” Your friend Dorothy tugged on your linked arms, urging you to hurry up. Going dancing on base had been her idea, to celebrate your promotion —the youngest head of secretaries in any of the departments— but you suspected an ulterior motive on her end. It was no secret that she was sweet on the soldiers. 
“I’m coming, Dotty. No need to rush.” 
Several pairs of eyes watched as you approached the door, making you just a little nervous. There was a reason you didn’t go out as often as the other girls in the department.
You tried to look around to avoid any strange looks but the first thing you saw was a couple in the shadow of the building, a soldier holding his sweetheart against the building as they kissed, far too passionately this out in the open. Your eyes immediately snapped back towards the entrance door while you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks. Maybe going out hadn’t been such a good idea. 
A fresh faced soldier opened the door for the pair of you with a wide grin that quickly slipped as Dotty winked at him. His eyes followed her until you were further inside and you leaned over to talk to her over the noise. “Must you flirt with every uniform? That boy didn’t look a day over eighteen.”
She just laughed in response, dragging you along the edge of the dance floor, expertly maneuvering through intertwined couples and groups of men standing around. “Relax, would you. That flirting got us a table so shush.”
Half an hour later you found yourself abandoned at the table, Dotty having gone to get a drink twenty minutes ago. The music wasn’t bad and you nodded along to one or two songs but without company your anxiousness turned into boredom. It took another song for Dot to turn back up but instead of a drink she brought a befuddled looking blond.
“I found you a friend.” She declared, pushing him towards the table before either of you could protest. “Major Cleven doesn’t dance and his sweetheart is coming next weekend so you don’t have to worry about him talking you up. I’m gonna go dance with James.” She pointed at a random soldier and then disappeared again.
The major sat, seemingly weirdly unaffected by your friend’s wild antics, and held a hand out to introduce himself, a gesture you returned.
“I’m sorry about Dotty. She insisted on going out to celebrate a promotion I received at work but it seems she’s already forgotten all about it.” You resigned yourself to sitting at the table until she got bored and found a fella she could sweet talk into dropping you home on their way to her place.
“Congratulations.” Major Cleven said. “And don’t worry about your friend. Nothing I can’t handle.”
The two of you talked for a while and you found yourself enjoying his company. He talked about his girl, Marge, with so much love and if there was one thing that you loved more than anything it was Love. Romance. Devotion.
When you recommended a few spots on base and off base that Major Cleven could take her while she came down to visit, he listened intently. In return he shared some of his group’s adventures from training. It was in the middle of a story about another soldier losing his boots through a bet when a loud voice interrupted him.
“Buck! I thought I’d lost you.” A pair of hands came down on either side of the major’s shoulders, giving him a shake. When your eyes followed them up you saw a dark haired man, a very handsome dark haired man, standing close behind the major. Looking down at you. “Who’s your friend?”
At your confused look Major Cleven just smiled. “He’s my Dotty.” He said, quietly, before speaking louder to introduce you. By the time he was done the dark haired man had rounded the table and sat next to his friend.
“John Egan, but my friends call me Bucky.”
There was a sparkle in his eyes you couldn’t look away from. It was almost distracting enough that you forwent protocol and referred to him by his offered nickname but your brain kicked in at the last minute, recognizing his name. “Major Egan.” You stated, watching his smile fall into confusion. “It’s good to put a face to the name. Colonel Smith talks about you plenty, sir.” You explained.
That charming smile returned as he leaned back in his chair. “You one of his girls then? What’s Smitty saying ‘bout me?”
“Head girl, sir. Just promoted. So forgive me for not breaking confidentiality.”
He, Major Egan, laughed loudly at your response, a wonderful sound. Beautiful view too, with his head thrown back in glee, exposing the long line of his neck. “Might be for the best. That way I can pretend he likes me.”
It was your turn to laugh, well aware of his reputation among your higher ups. While you weren’t looking at the major directly it didn’t escape your attention that he was watching you.
Even though you rarely gave into your friend's demands to go out, you knew what it was like to have soldiers watch you. The whole thing wasn’t something you enjoyed. Yet somehow Major Egan managed to do so in a way you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind it at all.
It was easy to let his eyes linger even if you knew that you shouldn’t mingle with the brass. It wouldn’t be proper at all, especially with your new position. And the man before you had a reputation on top of that. But all that seemed so unimportant as he stood up and held out his hand.
“Do you dance, doll?” His tone was playful and you felt your cheeks heat again at the nickname.
“I shouldn’t, Major Egan.”
Luckily he seemed to catch on to your word choice, straightening up. “So formal.” He teased. “If you’re denying me the pleasure of a dance I’ll pay a quick visit to the barkeep. Any request? I’ll buy…. for your promotion.”
“Oh I don’t—” You stopped yourself, “well one drink won’t hurt. I don’t know what they have available though. Surprise me, Major? Just nothing too strong.”
He flitted off with a wink and it was only then that you remembered Major Cleven, who had sat between the two of you silently for the entire exchange and was now looking at you with a knowing look in his eyes. Your own gaze dropped to your lap, embarrassed that the Major had seen your little flirtation.
“He’s a good man.” The blond major’s voice made your head snap back up. “Listens when you tell him no and he keeps his mouth shut if you tell him yes. Bucky’s intense but there is not a single soul I trust as much as him.”
He said it as if he already knew what you were thinking about. Weren’t thinking about. Shouldn’t think about.
“You’re a good friend Major Cleven but I don’t know what you’re trying to suggest. Major Egan simply offered to buy me a drink to celebrate. What other intentions he may have are completely irrelevant at this moment.”
He gave you a fond smile, like he already knew you didn't mean a word you said, but he didn’t call you on it which you were grateful for.
When the handsome Major returned it was with flourish, balancing three drinks in his large hands while he danced along to the music, making his way back to your table until he let himself fall into the seat next to you, not his friend. He wordlessly put a bottle on the table in front of Major Cleven before handing you a flute filled with a light bubbly drink.
You picked it up gently, careful not to spill the liquid inside. There was no ignoring the heavy presence of the major’s arm slung over the back of your chair but you didn’t allow yourself to lean back against it. Yet.
“To promotions.” He raised his glass —dark amber coming precariously close to the rim as he did— clinking it against yours before raising it towards Major Cleven who returned the gesture.
“To promotions.” You agreed. The drink he had gotten you tasted nice, a little sour in a good way, certainly better than the alcohol you had tried before. But most importantly it gave you the excuse you wanted.
You watched as Major Egan’s glass got emptier and emptier, the men joking around while you bid your time until there was nothing more that anchored you to the table.
Major Egan sat his empty glass down soundlessly and stood up, turning towards you and once again offering his hand, “Fancy a twirl now, doll?”
This time you accepted, letting him lead you to an open spot on the dance floor. His hand felt rough against yours but he held it gently, carefully, as he led and you followed. The band faded into the background as the Major guided you along the dancefloor. You could feel his other hand —large and warm— through the fabric of your dress where it rested respectfully on your waist, not an inch too high or too low. Steadying you.
You weren’t the most experienced dancer but it was clear to you that Major Egan knew how to move.
“Not all that proper now, are we?” He joked after you stepped closer to him, the side of his mouth quirked up into a mischievous grin as he looked down into your eyes.
“It is entirely improper Major, but I did have that one drink before you talked me into dancing with you so I think I’ll be forgiven should anybody question things.”
His eyes crinkled as he laughed, loud but not loud enough to draw even more attention to the two of you. “I talked you into dancing?”
The tone in his voice had you biting your lip as you nodded up at him.
“Alright, alright. Could I talk you into calling me Bucky then as well?”
“I don’t know Major Egan.” He spun you to the music, interrupting your response, before he pulled you close again. Closer than before. “I thought only your friends called you Bucky?”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
The music changed but you barely acknowledged it, too lost in the feeling of his breath on your skin. Nothing more than a whisper. “You want to be friends, Major Egan?”
He gave you a wide smile but didn’t answer your question. The only indication that he had heard you was a subtle shift of his hand. You didn’t comment on it though, only letting yourself be led around the floor as the band continued to play.
“How are you getting home?” He finally broke the silence during a slower song. The evening was far from over but it seemed like the major had finally gotten impatient. 
You drew back a bit to look around, finding Dot not on the dancefloor but at a different table, perched on a soldier’s lap. “A friend gave me a ride but she seems rather occupied at the moment.”
It didn’t bother you too badly, part of you had even expected it. You would just walk to the nearest pay phone and call your father to come pick you up.
“A friend would make sure you got home safely, would they not?”
“What are you saying, Major?”
He looked over your shoulder for a moment, seemingly looking for somebody, before looking back down into your eyes. “I can get a car for us in ten minutes?”
There were many things you should have considered before agreeing. Optics for one. There weren’t many ways one could interpret you rushing off with a soldier. The consequences come Monday morning if your superiors found out. Even just the major’s intentions if you really were to go with him. But truth be told you had little care for those things at the moment.
When the two of you had parted ways it was in different directions, the charming major off into the masses to talk somebody, anybody, into handing over their keys, you towards the exit.
The sun must have just set, heat from the day still heavy in the air as you stepped outside. It felt easier than you’d thought —admitting to yourself that more time had passed than you suspected, hours flying by while you were wrapped in the arms of a man that had been a stranger at the beginning of the evening. Leaning back against the wall at the side of the building you didn’t have to wait long before the doors opened again and Major Egan walked outside with determined strides.
He stopped, looked around before spotting you, and walked closer. Closer.
Major Egan moved to cup your face, not slow but not fast either, giving you enough time to turn away or speak up. You didn’t. You wouldn’t. But even though your eagerness seemed so obvious to you it mustn't to him because he took his time leaning in, giving you an out until the last second.
When your lips finally connected it was gentle, barely more than a whisper before you got sick of waiting and pushed forward, rising on your tiptoes just enough to kiss him back. Properly.
It took him a second to respond and for a moment, brief and utterly terrifying, you thought you might've come on too strong. This, everything from the flirting to the kissing, had been a new experience and oh how silly of you to believe you've done well on the first try.
But then Major Egan? Bucky? John! kissed you back, pressing his lips against yours hard enough to bruise, turning your insides hot and bubbly. Those long fingers that had been holding your face so sweetly just moments before stroked over your skin, finding your cheekbone, your jawline, teasing where your lips connected. You gasped and he took the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue pleading for permission to enter, warm and wet against your upper lip.
You granted his request —How could you not?— letting him press you further into the wall behind you as he kissed you. One of his large hands shielded your head from the brick he crowded you against, the other splayed wide on your waist like it had on the dancefloor. It was only when you had to pull away to breathe that you realized you’d ended up in the same situation you had judged the young lovers for at the beginning of the evening. At least the settling dusk provided you with the resemblance of a cover. The heat in your cheeks only intensified when you looked at the man in front of you. The —admittedly gorgeous— lipstick your friend had convinced you to wear now graced the Major’s face, going beyond the confines of his own lips and even tinting the hairs of his mustache. A sound —half embarrassed squeal, half laughter— left your lips before you could stop yourself.
Major Egan, John, smiled at you, oblivious of his own state. “You got a little something.” His thumb brushed under your bottom lip, undoubtedly cleaning whatever was left of your makeup. It was a sweet gesture you couldn’t repay since it would take more than the swipe of a finger to fix him up properly.
“You too.” Was all you could stutter out, rummaging in your purse for your compact and your handkerchief. It was sad to see the white embroidered cloth fall victim to red pigment but at least the major looked presentable, if a little flushed.
“Ready to go?” He held out his arm, chivalrous, as if you hadn't been devouring each other moments earlier.
You allowed yourself to be escorted towards his borrowed car, hand resting in the crook of his elbow as he led the way.
It was only when he opened the passenger door for you that you paused. You had been acting very unrestricted the entire evening but doubt had started to set in. You were a modern woman, or at least you wanted to be. But while you admired women like Dotty that owned their life to the fullest you weren’t all that ready.
“Major Egan?”
“So formal. I thought we were past that.” He said in a teasing tone but when he saw your face his expression changed and he listened seriously.
“I know I’ve been behaving awfully bold tonight sir, but I just wanted to make sure that there are no… expectations about the rest of the evening.”
He nodded, a soft smile on his face, before he spoke, tone so gentle you trusted him without hesitation. “Get in the car, doll.”
Major Egan closed the door behind you carefully before rounding the car and sitting in the driver's seat. He didn’t start the car though, instead he turned to look at you.
“I’m not going to lie and say I wouldn’t like to kiss you again, doll. Because I do. I really do. But I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can take the long way or I can drive you straight home. Whatever you want, just say the word.” He turned to sit properly and started the motor. It was only when the car had already started rolling that he said more. “No matter what you choose, if you permit it I’d like to make sure you get home safely.” 
You looked at him, really looked at him, as you followed the road through the base. Even with the fading light he looked gorgeous. A strong side profile you wanted to spend more time looking at. The way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.
It didn’t take all that long to make a decision but you still waited until the car pulled through the gates and off base before you answered him.
“Take the long way, John.”
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bellewintersroe · 1 year ago
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Charles Leclerc x reader smut - part 2
obsessed with this man I s2g, so here’s a part 2, literally just a series full of smut, kinda spontaneous so I don’t even know where this is going, but whatever. Link to Part 1.
Since Charles and Jenny’s encounter, Jenny was left even more frustrated, and with Charles’ orders that she couldn’t cum until he was the one to make her, she struggles even more to cope with the anticipation of having him again. The aftermath of them two is a tense, giggly mess skcieifiekw Charles is really soft hasnt shown his confident side in bed yet and reader can tell.
Smut - 18+ sexting, masturbation, teasing, swearing, dirty talk. Charles is a flustered mess, almost blows it a little too quickly… oral, fingering, p in v sex. Sexual tension? Ahh I want this man so bad.
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My half sister was asleep in bed next to me and all I could do was stare at the ceiling of the hotel, waiting, waiting and waiting. Why she was asleep at 8pm I’ll never know, but now I had no way from distracting myself from the real issue on my mind. Charles. After our encounter earlier all I could think about was having him again, I got butterflies whenever I thought about it, and when I replayed his words in my mind they went straight to my core.
‘Don’t touch yourself until I can’.
How on earth was I supposed to wait? My hotel room was free for three whole hours whilst Eva, my sister was with her ‘boyfriend’ that she’d met in Austria. Seeing as she’d been sneaking out and I’d kept her secret, it was her turn to keep mine. I’d kept to Charles’s words all afternoon, waiting rather impatiently, but now it was getting later and later, all I could do was laid with tightly crossed legs and scroll through my phone in a pathetic attempt to distract myself.
Charles had been texting me back and fourth all afternoon, apart from when he was training of course. The more time that passed the hornier I got. So I took myself to the bathroom, deciding to run a second shower. “Fuck this…” I muttered, locking the door and stripping off my clothes. My underwear were already dripping wet, and I sighed, annoyed by my own desperation. I could still imagine vividly the slight stretch of my tight hole around his cock, the way he’d press so hard against me that his balls would push against my ass. Before I knew it my right hand was rubbing over my clit, taking my phone in my other hand and snapping a picture of my bare tits and torso, cutting it off just before he could see where I was touching. Oops
I’d sent to him the message, stepping in the shower with my hair tied up to avoid getting it wet. Maybe it was a good idea to cool off. When my phone buzzed again, I took it with wet hands.
I thought you said you were going to wait
I’m not making myself cum, but I’m just so wet from earlier, I can’t help it
fuck you are making me hard
To this, I sent him another picture of my wet tits pressed together, fingers slightly sprawled over my pierced nipple, awaiting his response as I tightened my legs. I loved the idea of Charles being hard over me, no matter how many times we had these conversations, they never failed to turn me on more than anything. You are so fucking beautiful, I’m going to fuck you so good later
are you touching yourself? Smirking, I pulled out the camera again, leaning against the wall as I sunk down to the floor, spreading my legs and sending him a video of me rubbing my clit slowly. fuck fuck fuck Jenny im leaving in a minute
So hard for you omg
Leaning back I let out a quiet sigh, enjoying the sensation of touching myself, I was throbbing so desperately, closing my eyes and becoming lost in the moment. I imagined his fingers pushed inside of me, fingering me until I squirted down his arm, screaming his name as I tugged on his short hair. The way he’d muffle a moan if his face was pressed up to my pussy, tongue licking up and down as he made me cum all over his face. Fuck, if I continued I wouldn’t stop. I was dangerously close to losing control, so I had to pull my hand away and continue with a second shower, unable to look at Charles’ dirty words until I was done.
I will be back in 10 minutes, I’ll come get you
just as long as you’re quieter than you were earlier 😉
shut up
I giggled, realising I kinda had to rush. I had to go through the full routine again, moisturising, spraying perfume, picking out new underwear. “What’re you doing?” My sister grumbled from behind me, thick in her French accent, as I stuffed my phone into my pocket. I had to leave now. Charles was outside the room. “Uh going out, I’ll be back in the morning, don’t tell dad, cos’ I kept your boyfriend a secret!” I warned as she pfffted out a tired laugh. “Salope.” She joked as I fake gasped. “You are the slut!” I giggled, heading down the corridor, knowing my secret was safe. “Jenna?” She then asked. “C’est Charles?” I cringed at her question. She’d caught on oddly fast. “Non.” I lied, before slipping out of the room and seeing Charles stood there, hood up and a gentle smile covering his face. I immediately smile, being quiet to close the door behind me. “Bonjour.” I teased as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my lips, “hello.” He eyed me up and down, squeezing my shoulder before his arm dropped and he left a lazy hand on my lower back.
“Thats his room… be quiet.” I whispered, as we passed my father and step-mums room with our heads dipped. “Lucky, I am on a different floor.” He shrugged, pressing the elevator button. The whole time we were waiting for the lift I was anxiously awaiting somebody I knew to open their door or come out from down the hallway. When a door did pull open, I was grateful that we’d hopped into the lift for safety. Charles pressed the button number 7 and then I frantically pressed the close button, relieved when we began moving upwards.
He laughed at my frantic behaviour, coming up behind me and making eye contact with me through the mirror in the lift. “You look so good.” He muttered, voice getting lower as he stepped closer towards me, hooking an arm over my chest.
Smiling back up to him, I watched as he dipped his head inhaling the scent of my hair. “You smell good!” His words made me laugh now, feeling him nuzzle his nose into my freshly washed hair. “You weirdo!” I giggled, digging my bum back into his hips as he groaned, moving the hair back with a kiss to my neck. “Mmm, ça m'excite.” He admitted it turned him on as I hummed, running a hand over his clothed arm.
He mimicked my hum, leaving several kisses on my skin as I gasped out a soft sigh, just as the lift doors opened. There was two different couples stood wide eyed, luckily I didn’t recognise either of them as Charles cleared his throat, lowering his head and leading me out of the lift with his hand. Once we’d past them, both of us giggled, sharing a kiss whilst he used his keycard to open the hotel door.
Oh my god, his room was nice, 10x better than mine and Eva’s and I wasn’t surprised. I turned back to him with my jaw dropped. “It’s so nice in here!”
“It is… I gotta shower and I’ll be back with you, put whatever you want on the TV.” He glanced me up and down as I nodded, sitting down on the plush bed and leaning back. “Ugh, so comfy.”
“I know!” He exclaimed, stripping off his hoody and tossing it straight onto my head playfully. His phone was still in the pocket, luckily it didn’t hit my head but it didn’t stop him from rushing over.
“I am sorry! I forgot that was in there! Are you okay?” He laughed, scanning over me as he held my face. “I’m okay, you idiot.” I laughed, playfully tapping his face as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then again to my lips. Charles jumped up quick, almost child like. “Ok, I will go shower now.”
Whilst he was showering, I was struggling to work the TV, everything was in French, or German. I mean we were in Austria, I just struggled to follow the language when it was on the TV. In the end I settled for some French sitcom whilst I awaited Charles to be finished in the shower.
10 minutes later, Charles walked back out in a fresh pair of Calvin Kleins, practically diving on the bed with a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t look at me half naked.” He half joked as I giggled. “What?! I barley even saw you!”
“Good…” he spun around on the bed, resting next to me against the headboard. “What are you watching this for?!” Charles spluttered out a laugh, taking the control that had been resting in my hand. “It’s my favourite TV show.” I sarcastically spoke. “Can’t you tell?” “No, I can’t.” He laughed sheepishly, clearly thinking I was being serious. “I’m being sarcastic, I don’t even know what they’re saying. Their French is too quick. Le mien est lent.” I told him mine was slow, longing out the sentence as Charles scanned over my face. His gaze dropping down to my lips. “You sound good when you speak French.”
“Hm?” The corner of my lip perked, pulling my knees up slightly to bend, but Charles had other ideas. His hand smoothed down my thigh, nudging it back on the bed as I swallowed harshly. “It’s a shame I could not hear you in those videos earlier.” He muttered sending a wave of butterflies through my lower stomach. “I had to be quiet.” “You didn’t cum did you?” He asked, hand pausing as his fingers just about nudged under the hem of my grey jogging shorts. “No, I listened.” I teased, watching a smile grow on his face. “Now I have finally got you alone.” Charles smirked, his fingers continuing their way up to rest on my inner thigh. “About time.” I moaned, watching him sit up slightly so he could nudge his lips against mine to steal a kiss. I could feel his smile against my mouth the whole time, it made it a little hard to kiss, but I didn’t care, his excitement was a compliment to me. Plus, I’d been waiting for this all day. The playful tone in the room soon switched up to something heavier as he lay between my legs, kissing me hungrily with his tongue rolling over mine. There was that thick tension between the two of us again, one that made me pull his hips further into my own. We didn’t have to speak to let one another know how badly we yearned for this. I was wet just from kissing, and Charles didn’t hesitate to slip off my shorts, discarding them next to us on the bed.
“I want to taste you… can I taste you?” He asked, fingers inching closer up my thigh, teasing around the area as I writhed, not being down for this teasing. After months of fantasising about this, and him saying how badly he wanted his mouth on my pussy, my dream was finally coming to life.
“Yeah.” I weakly spoke, hand on his head as he worked his way down my body. Oh god, oh god, I was already breathing heavy, but this was just making my chest heave and fall at a ridiculous pace. “Are you sure?” He breathed, lips pressing a kiss to the lace of my thongs. “Mmh, please.” I moaned as he let out a soft chuckle, fingers nipping under the edge of my skinny underwear. “I like this.” He whispered before sliding them down my legs. I gulped, fidgeting my legs as he nudged them open, leaning in and finally licking a stripe up my pussy. The two of us simultaneously groaned. “Mmm, Charles.” I cooed, as he hummed, licking over me once again. The heat from his tongue, followed by his lips wrapping around my clit sent me onto a whole other planet. “You taste so good, baby.” He uttered, barely breaking away from his movements as he sucked over my clit again. He looked away, shyly, rubbing his hands up and under my tight shirt, squeezing at my tits. “Couldn’t stop staring at these tits.” He admitted as I let out a louder moan, feeling him pinch at the pierced buds. “So sexy.” He commented before licking up and down over my sensitive clit once again. “Charles.” My body jerked, knees trapping his head as he continued his assault on my core. “Oh my god, you feel so god.” I finally spoke, feeling him smile as I whined, grinding my hips against his mouth. “How can I make you cum, baby, with my fingers?” He asked, seeming a little unsure as I nodded with a pleasured sigh. Charles wiped the back of his mouth before kissing me, tracing once finger down my naval, over my slit and easily pushing into my wetness. “Oh, fuck.” I gasped as he hummed, nodding besides me as he kept pushing his finger in and out. “Keep- keep going.” I gasped, hearing the squelching of my wetness against his fingers, my own hand moved down to assist his, rubbing over my clit as Charles kissed at my cheek.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day. About you.” Charles admitted as I moaned, dropping my head against his for support. “Keep talking to me.” I whined, desperate to hear more. “About how tight your pussy felt, how badly I wanted to cum in there… can you take two?” He hummed as I moaned out loud, hand grabbing at his prominent bulge, desperate for something to hold onto.
“Yeah.” Charles pushed his second finger into my tightness as my breath hitched, feeling the intensity of his fingers jabbing at my G-spot. “I imagined you cumming all down my fingers.” His accent was doing wonders for me and soon it was my turn to talk back. “Gonna make me cum Charles, fuck, do you want me to?”
“Yes, baby, oui, jouis pour moi.” He instructed me to cum for him, my stomach curling and tightening as I let out a louder gasp, squeezing the head of his cock as he let out an inward groan. “Cum for me and I will fuck you so good.” He told me, “Charles!” I warned, hand moving to snatch at his flexed arm as I choked out several moans. “I-I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” I gasped, feeling the overwhelming pleasure soon rattle through me. I felt myself release from below, squirting on him as I let out a borderline scream, covering my mouth but Charles pulled my hand away. “That’s it, that’s it.” He cooed me through my orgasm as I sobbed out, body writhing and twitching as he milked my orgasm.
“Tu as giclé pour moi. Tu es tellement bon.” He muttered gently, easing his fingers out of me once my body had relaxed. “What? I don’t know what tha’ means.” I panted furiously. “I don’t know it in English, you… you know.” He gestured down to my below. “Squirted?” I awkwardly said as he nodded. “Yes, I lost my English.” “Mmm, it’s okay.” I hushed, pulling him in for a kiss as I swiped my hand down to rub over his cock. “You’re so hard.” I moaned as he let out a breathy sigh against my mouth. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” I urged him on, taking a hold and rubbing more at his cock.
“I need to fuck you.” Charles then spoke, “I need to- putain, c'est trop bon.” He cut himself off with a curse in French, hips jumping when I squeezed his dick. He made out with me for a little longer, breathing heavy as I quickened my pace. “Non, non… I am taking care of you.” He seemed to fight an internal battle, but didn’t push me away. “I like doing this, Charles, making you feel good.” I cooed as he moaned out loud now. “C'est trop rapide. Putain, si tu n'arrêtes pas ça ira trop vite.” (This is too quick. Fuck, if you don’t stop it will happen too quick).
“What will happen too quick?” I bucked my naked hips up at him as he quickly stopped me. “Non, non, non. Give me a minute-“ he exhaled quickly, freezing and stopping my hand from touching him. “Are you okay?”
“You just nearly make me cum too fast.” For some reason, his words spurred me on further, but I knew I couldn’t continue to tease. “It’s okay.” I whispered, turning around and stripping my top off. Charles eyes were constantly on me, and it was within no time that he was pushing me under his body. “You can fuck me exactly how you wanted to now.” I giggled as he bit down on his lips, kicking off his underwear. “You want this?” He asked, pumping at his cock. So fucking hard and long, he was the perfect size. “Yeah… do you?”
“So much.” He cooed, easing himself in once again. I gasped, snatching at his shoulders. This time, the burn was a little harsher than before, but I pushed through it, knowing I was just a little sore from earlier. “Is it ok?” Charles let out a groan, with a noise like that how could I ever stop? “Fuck me.” I begged, moving my hips up until he finally began thrusting in and out of me. “Does that feel okay?” I could tell he was holding himself back, straining as he held himself up to wait for my answer. “It’s good.” I panted with a reassuring smile. “You feel so good.” This made hun smile as he moved forwards to kiss me much deeper now.
“Oh, yeah.” Charles moaned directly into my ear making me sigh out in utter pleasure, feeling his hand holding the back of my head. “Harder.”
“Harder?” He looked back as I nodded. “Please, I need it.” I spoke through almost gritted teeth as he rested his hands either side of me, beginning to fuck into me at a pace that I could barely moan properly at. He was so good, his hips were slapping against my own, the bed beginning to squeak at our antics.
I took his hand, running it over my breasts and throat teasingly. “Oh god.” He closed his eyes, tending his jaw as he thrusted into me harsher. With each intense thrust I yelled out, snatching and scratching at his back as Charles hissed. His cock was filling me up, stretching my pussy out, my legs were wide and he was slotted so perfectly between them. Sinful noises filled the room as we continued with our passionate fucking. I couldn’t stop, neither could he, it was like a desperation as we chased one another’s orgasms. Every time we’d start off sweet and slow it’s like something inside of us clicked and an animalistic side came out. I tugged on Charles’s wrist, pushing his hand onto my neck as he groaned. “You will make me cum, fuck! You will make me come, Jen- jouis avec moi. jouis avec moi, baby!” We were spooning, my leg stretched up as he frantically fucked me like there was no tomorrow.
“Cum together?” I repeated. “Oui!” He gasped out, tightening his grip on my neck as I rolled my eyes back, feeling him rubbing over my clit. The pace was overwhelming, I could no longer hold back the anticipation racking up inside of me. “Okay, cum, cum inside me, fuck, give it to me- Ah, I’m cumming!” My voice raised as Charles gasped out, fucking his seed into me as he came with a satisfied moan, simultaneous to my own. “Fuck, fuck. I just came so hard.” Charles choked out, his tight grip loosening do rub over my skin. I was exhaling loudly, body jolting and jittering from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “So did I.” I sighed, feeling him milking the last of his cum inside of me, body dripping with sweat as he gently rested an arm over me. “Just stay like this.” Charles cooed, pulling me close as I hummed, snuggling into his back. “Are you okay?”
“Tired.” I responded feeling him lifting his head to take a look at me. “Tu as bien fait ma belle.” (You did so good, my beautiful). An undeniable smile grew on my face. “So did you…”
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cobaltperun · 10 months ago
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Lost (13) - Easier to run
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Tara Carpenter x female Reader
Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.
Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics
Warning for this chapter: I don't go into details, but the ending might be a bit, uncomfortable.
Word count: 4.8k
Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
-Just washing it aside all of the helplessness inside pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change-
Everyone who knew you and Tara for more than a day would likely say Tara was the one exception to your every rule. That all Tara had to do to get something from you would be to simply ask. There were plenty of activities that were only permitted to Tara. From stealing your clothes, in her defense they were comfy, and she felt like you were hugging her whenever she wore them, all the way to interrupting your training for valid, though admittedly silly, reasons. What? She needed her kisses and hugs!
Well, those people had no idea what they were talking about because all the tricks in the books weren't making you give in.
"Come on, Y/N," Tara was getting desperate at this point. Puppy eyes, which she almost never had to resort to in the first place didn't help, and all the other options she used failed just as spectacularly, for there was one thing you didn’t let Tara do, no matter how much you loved her. She pleaded, begged, she bargained, she tried seduction, promised things that made you smile at the mere thought of them, promised things that made you a flustered mess. Yet none of those methods worked. "Please! I'll do anything you want, or let you do anything you want," her pleading went unanswered as you got in your car.
"If you loved me, you'd do this for me," a low blow, but she was getting desperate. She wanted to drive, that looked like so much fun, and it’s been a while since she last drove!
You lowered your window and looked at Tara with the flattest look she had ever seen on your face. "Tara, you're not driving my car, now get in," she had no idea, but both of you had the same thought going through your heads. 'I have the most stubborn girlfriend ever.'
"You let Sam drive it," Tara grumbled when she relented and got in the passenger seat.
"I was injured! You can drive it if I'm dying or high on painkillers!" you exclaimed, clearly getting riled up over Tara's insistence on driving your precious car. Tara couldn't help herself, she grinned at your reaction. There was just something inherently appealing and maybe even a bit exciting in knowing that regardless of how much she pushed your buttons you'd only get annoyed and even then, you'd calm down after a bit of making out. So, while she really wanted to drive to Sacramento, getting you riled up would have to do.
Only... she just realized she couldn't make out with you while you were driving, and driving alone would calm you down. Tara was getting nothing out of half an hour's worth of effort.
Shit.
She guessed she could at least give you silent treatment for a bit. You were driving anyway, and not liking to talk while driving wasn’t limited to just phone, you didn’t like talking at all. You loved listening, and Tara happily talked throughout the entire rides, with you providing minimal verbal response. Honestly, she loved that about you, because you were a really careful driver, and she never had to worry about you as far as that was concerned.
“Come on, surely you’re not still moody over not driving?” you spoke up fifteen minutes after you left Woodsboro.
Tara hummed and turned her head to the side, pretending to ignore you. You huffed and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide the smirk on her face.
“Okay, okay, be moody. I guess we aren’t going to stop by that nice place on the side of the road, the one with that kiwi flavored ice cream you loved so much,” you had to be smirking, you absolutely had to be smirking. She heard it in your voice, you tease.
“Fine, fine, I’m not moody anymore,” she raised her hands and turned to look at you, after all, you did promise to stop by for kiwi ice cream.
“That’s my girl!” your smirk shifted into a happy grin causing Tara to blush.
~X~
Ever since choosing Blackmore University as the next step in your education, you made sure you went to Sacramento to visit Susan at least once a month, and Tara made sure she was with you every single time. In a week you'd be leaving Woodsboro so it wouldn't be as easy to travel from New York to Sacramento whenever you wanted to. So, that's how you ended up in Susan's guest bedroom with Tara getting ready to go to bed.
The fact that Tara was the one sleeping closer to the doors was enough proof of how the two of you felt regarding Susan. Right now, you and Tara were sitting on the bed, just about ready to lie down and sleep.
"I'm proud of you two, and yes, I already said that, and I'm going to keep saying that," Susan smiled, it felt good to hear someone say that, especially since it was directed at Tara too.
"Thank you," you glanced at Tara, noticing a small blush dusting her cheeks.
Every time Susan did something that made Tara feel welcomed and loved you couldn't help but like the woman just a bit more than before. "Thanks, mo-" you froze, your eyes wide as you realized what word nearly slipped past your lips.
You could feel your face burning as you wished for the ground to open and swallow you. Or for a bolt of lightning to strike you. Or anything, really, that could save you from embarrassment. Unconsciously you dropped down to the bed, behind Tara, thus hiding at least your face behind her.
A soft chuckle made you reach out and pull Tara closer to you as the bed muffled your embarrassed groan. "Good night," Susan closed the doors behind her.
Tara giggled, enjoying your unfortunate slip of the tongue. "Y/N," she pulled away from you, but only so she could lie down next to you and pull your head to her chest. "It's okay," she whispered softly, gently massaging the back of your head. "It was cute," she was enjoying this a bit too much.
"I'll never recover from embarrassment," you complained, even if you felt a bit better now.
"You're adorable when you get embarrassed," Tara actually cooed, only increasing the embarrassment you felt.
"No, I'm not. I'm an MMA fighter," you were a fighter, always ready for a brawl, proven to be one of the strongest female fighters in the world without even reaching your peak. You were not going to take this.
Tara shifted so she was face to face with you. "I don't see how one excludes the other, you're my adorable MMA fighter," the soft kisses were definitely making you just take it.
"You're lucky I love you," you playfully warned when Tara stopped kissing you for a moment.
"Oh, I know," there was a mischievous glint in Tara's eyes. Frankly, any other time this would probably escalate further, but you were at Susan's house and the mere idea of going further than kissing and cuddling felt strange, so, Tara just snuggled up to you and closed her eyes, content and happy to be here with you.
~X~
She made a mistake.
She made a terrible, awful, ridiculously stupid, mistake!
Why did she want to drive so much in the first place? Oh, yeah, because she hasn’t driven in a long time and really wanted to do it. Well, you let her drive on the way back and the car was absolutely, a hundred percent, against her. Shifting gears felt like being tossed back and forth, and why, just why did you have to go for a manual car instead of an automatic one? Sure they were cheaper, but still! Something told her you would still choose a manual car over an automatic even if you had more money.
“I’m so sorry,” Tara narrowed her eyes as she noticed you rubbing the audio system gently as if you were apologizing to your car. Actually, you were apologizing to it. And Tara felt her eye twitch at that.
You’ll see when she gets out of the city. And then she had to stop at a traffic light, on an incline. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, trying to remember what she needed to do. In her defense she didn’t have a car, and the last time she drove was almost three years ago. Maybe you had a point when you didn’t let her drive your car.
“What?” you turned to look at her and noticing her panic you placed a hand on her shoulder. “Easy Tara, you’ve got this,” she nodded, for all the complaints and refusal to let her drive you still had faith in her that she could do this. That calmed her down and she pulled the handbreak and relaxed until the traffic light turned green. She gently released the clutch and pressed the gas and lowered the handbreak, getting the car to move again. She let out a sigh and smiled as you placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, and she didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling. And the rest of the ride, well, it wasn’t smooth, but she didn’t feel nervous. You were next to her, and well, Tara would be the first to admit she kinda sucked at the whole driving thing, but everything turned out fine.
She parked like a pro in front of your apartment building. She still remembered getting into trouble with Judy when you were teaching her how to drive. She let you off the hook only if you promised to keep your lessons on the parking lots, and with your patience Tara learnt how to park perfectly. The driving part… well, not so much. You tried, you really did, after she got her driver license, but by that point you were already living in your apartment, working and actively preparing for your first fight, so Tara wanted to spend what time you had together doing something other than driving. “Home sweet home,” she said and stepped out of the car, you could have it back, she drove enough for a while.
~X~
Leaving Woodsboro and coming to New York, was, perhaps, the best decision you could make, especially for Tara. She was happy, relaxed, even excited, it was like she was being completely free for the first time in her life. Free from her mother, her past, from everything negative related to Woodsboro.
Nothing told you Tara was feeling better as well as the way you woke up that morning. It would be an understatement to say it was a surprise to wake up in your new apartment with Tara drawing random shapes on your left forearm with the tip of her finger.
Ever since Tara was attacked when the two of you slept together the two of you either spooned or slept in the same position as you were in this morning, with Tara's head on your chest, and your arms protectively around her. Cradle position, or something like that, Tara once told you.
"Hey, Love," you rasped, still a bit sleepy.
Tara leaned up, kissing the right side of your jaw. "Good morning, Y/N," you felt her smiling as she peppered kisses along your jaw. "We've got a long day ahead of us," she reminded you, though with the way she nuzzled into your neck you figured she wasn't too eager to get up.
"Let's see, we're meeting that girl who answered our ad for a roommate, Sam has a job interview, I have first MMA classes," Thomas really saved your ass with that. He paid well, maybe even too well, it wasn't a full-time job, and you could use it to stay in shape as well. Because of how well he paid Sam would only need to work one job, instead of two that she was planning on. Tara could focus on studying, besides, with her asthma job options were even more limited. If she wanted to get a job eventually neither you nor Sam would stop her, but she deserved to take it easy at least for a year.
You also retired with quite a bit of money from the deal to retire quietly and the two fights you had. You considered investing it in something but figured it would be smarter to wait for a bit and see how things worked out in New York.
"Mhm, and we have to go do some shopping, mostly for our kitchen," Tara reminded you. That would be a bit of an annoyance since Sam just had to insist on getting the top floor, no elevator in the building, apartment.
"I still can't believe there are so many stairs in this building, or that we actually have rooms now. And a kitchen. That isn't connected to the living room and bedroom. And two damn bathrooms. And three bedrooms. We have a separate dining area, Tara, a proper dining area with a table!" having spent almost three years in a cramped apartment made this feel surreal. Even the damn bed you were sleeping in was bigger now!
Tara laughed, tickling you slightly with her breath. "You can actually work out here," she teased you.
"That too!" you eagerly agreed. Finally, you could get rid of any nervous energy without heading to the gym. Granted, you didn’t have to do it that often, but just the fact that you could do it was enough. “And you can’t complain about that. Remember what you did the last time I did push-ups?”
Tara nodded, raising her head, and nibbling on your ear lightly. “Mhm, I sat on your back,” and she sounded so damn proud of that.
A knock on the door got your attention before you could reply to that. "Are you two decent?" Sam's voice came from the other side.
"Yeah!" Tara immediately said as she lowered her head back down and stopped teasing you. And you were decent, clothes on, room clean, you were just still in bed. Still, after Sam barely avoided catching the two of you in a not-quite-decent state she got into a habit of asking before entering. And you were thankful for that, because while you deeply cared about Sam, neither you nor Tara wanted her to walk in on you. And Sam was just as disturbed by the idea, so this was truly the best option.
"I was about to head to the store, do you need anything?" Sam asked, smiling when she saw Tara so happy this early in the morning.
Tara shook her head. "I'm good, thanks Sam."
"Same here, I'll get the breakfast ready when you come back," honestly, you got used to Sam living with you and Tara really quickly. It almost made you sorry someone else, a stranger nonetheless, was about to join the three of you.
"I'll be back soon," Sam left the two of you and you stretched a bit before finally getting up.
"You two are going to spoil me," Tara sat up as well, yawning slightly.
You took the T-shirt you slept in off and went to the wardrobe to get a clean shirt. "Nothing wrong with that, Love," besides, it wasn't like Tara didn't do anything, she had her own chores, it's just that they usually didn’t involve cooking, though she did cook every now and then, or cleaning that could trigger her asthma.
“Mhm, how about I spoil you as well?” she came up behind you, got on her tiptoes and kissed your neck, her hands sliding up your arms.
You turned around, capturing her lips in a quick kiss. “What did you have in mind?” you lifted her up, smirking teasingly as she pulled back and hugged you.
“How about we watch your favorite movie, and I’ll order our favorite snacks and food, so you don’t have to cook tonight?” she asked, and your eyes lit up at that. She could definitely spoil you like that.
~X~
You were late. Thomas took up some of your time to talk about the first classes you taught as well as to catch up a bit. After everything he did you kind of couldn't just leave. Besides, Tara and Sam were meeting this girl, Quinn Bailey if you remembered correctly, in public, far enough from the apartment. Her dad was a cop, so that made it easier to drop your guard a bit.
As long as Tara and Sam were fine with the girl, you were sure you'd be fine with her too. If you were being completely honest, if Quinn managed to convince Sam she was harmless she was almost definitely in.
The bar Sam chose was busy, though not crowded, especially at this hour. People came and went, stopping by to get their coffee or to get out of the heat, but no one really stayed more than necessary. You came inside and looked around until you finally noticed Tara. When you joined Tara, Sam, and who you assumed was Quinn, you quickly leaned down to kiss Tara's cheek, gave Sam a brief one-armed hug, and only then offered your hand to Quinn. "Y/N L/N, sorry I'm late," you said.
Quinn accepted the handshake. "Damn, and I thought Sam was jacked, but look at you," she whistled as you sat down next to Tara.
Well, it wasn't the first time someone noticed your muscles, but the girl in front of you was pretty much ogling you right now. "Right, moving on," not the best first impression, but you could brush it off. Tara, who was frowning, probably wouldn't though.
"Where's the rush? I wouldn't mind having some fun," what was this woman trying to accomplish? You really couldn't figure it out. Was she trying to piss Tara off or something?
"Well, have fun. Without me," you reached down underneath the table to rub circles into Tara's right palm. Feeling the way she squeezed your hand it was the right decision.
"Life, I have found, is about variety, Y/N," she leaned in, reaching over toward your hand.
"Mine is about one person," you pulled your hand back before she could touch it. Tara loosened her hold on your hand, but still leaned a bit closer. You could see she was glaring daggers at Quinn and Sam didn't appreciate it either.
Quinn had a bit of a frown on her face, but it quickly changed and she began laughing. "I'm just joking with you, though I really wouldn't mind taking a closer look," she openly ogled you.
Tara faked a cough. "Well, I'm not. I'm sorry we wasted your time Quinn," there was no need for Tara to finish that sentence.
Quinn had the guts to look shocked. "Are you serious right now?"
"Absolutely," Sam took Tara's side and you just shrugged, as if to tell her 'Well, what did you expect would happen?'
"Unbelievable," Quinn pretty much stormed off.
"Do we really need a roommate? The extra bedroom can be used if Chad or Mindy decide to sleep over," Tara voiced what all three of you were thinking.
"That's probably the best option," Sam agreed, help with rent would have been welcome, but you could manage without it.
"You won't catch me complaining, that's for sure," you were definitely in favor of keeping the apartment to just the three of you. Not to mention it was the safest option.
"Speaking of the apartment, let's go back," Tara was already up and pulling you along. Sam still had her job interview, so it would just be you and Tara.
Kitchen equipment shopping could clearly wait, as you could see she was still pissed off by the time you reached the building, so you picked her up bridal style. "Don't tell me you're jealous," you eventually asked and grinned as Tara placed her arm on your back.
"I'm not," she huffed as she unlocked your apartment.
She locked the doors behind you two and you went right to the bedroom. "What is it then?" you asked and lowered her down on the bed,
"You're mine," okay, that sounded way more possessive than you were used to from Tara. She said you were hers every now and then, usually when you were making love, this time though her tone was different. This wasn't born of passion, or said in the heat of the moment, this was pure jealousy.
"So, you are jealous," you sighed, letting her pull you in until you were pressing against her.
"Of course I am. She, she just-" Tara huffed and let go of you, spreading her arms on the bed. You immediately recognized the mood swings from right after the attack. Your best guess was that this one was caused by Quinn attempting to take you from Tara.
"Tara," you slowly kissed her neck, gradually making your way up to her lips. "I'm yours. The only variety I want to consider is the variety of ways I can make you say my name," you grinned a bit as you heard Tara's breath hitch.
No fourth roommate. Just the three of you. With Woodsboro left behind. It felt like nothing could go wrong. You should have known better. You should have noticed Tara was too focused on ignoring Woodsboro.
You should have realized Tara was running away from what happened the moment you caught her covering the scar on her hand.
You only realized it two months after you came to New York when she first disappeared.
~X~
She may have had a bit too much to drink tonight. That might be a bit difficult to explain in the morning. Where was she anyway? She felt nauseous, but she still drank whatever alcohol was currently in her cup. Who exactly brought her here anyway? She was at one party, then somehow ended up at another one. Maybe. At this point, she was too drunk to know for sure.
How was she going to get home?
Oh well, problems for later.
She felt hands on her waist. The grip was strong. You? No, no, it was too firm, too forceful. She stumbled back, her head clearing enough to vaguely recognize a guy who was at the first party.
"What's wrong? You want this, right?"
She heard the words, but she couldn't quite understand them. The alcohol was making it very hard to stay steady on her feet. Oh, this was a mistake.
"No," she slurred, a lot like how her mother would and for a moment she felt disgusted by her behavior.
The guy laughed, clearly not believing her. "I'll take good care of you, don't worry about it."
Even as drunk as she was she felt her blood run cold. "Y/N," you weren't there, you weren't with her. She imagined your voice, telling her to breathe, angry at her, but more than anything worried about her asthma.
There was a crash and what sounded like wood cracking and then she felt safe. She felt the fresh air against her cheeks, strong arms holding her close, protecting her from anything and anyone. "I got you Tara, I got you," she heard and fell asleep in your arms.
~X~
You came back to the apartment when it was almost midnight, with Tara completely passed out due to who knows how much alcohol she drank. Sam met you at the doors, her legs too shaky to let her meet you outside. You weren't doing much better, you had hundreds of worst-case scenarios running through your head.
Sam reached out to Tara when you stopped at the front door. She shakily touched Tara's cheek, then lowered her hand to wipe a bit of drool coming out of Tara's mouth.
"Y/N...?" there was a silent question in the way Sam said your name. You saw fear in her eyes, and you were sure it was in your eyes as well.
"I think I made it in time," she nodded when you said that, leaving the unspoken question to hang in the air. The terrifying possibility that might happen if Tara doesn’t stop doing this. You didn't say it, and neither did Sam, but when you lowered Tara on the bed as gently as you possibly could Sam stepped out. So, you checked, just in case. Just in case you had to immediately get back to that damned house and murder anyone still there.
Luckily, you don't need to do that. Your hands trembled as you put your shirt on Tara and you released a muffled cry of relief when Tara just curled up, peacefully sleeping in your bed. "God damn it, Tara," you stumbled to the dining room, where Sam is expecting you. "Everything's fine," you fell apart the moment you dropped into the chair.
You pressed your hands against your eyes as you began sobbing uncontrollably. For hours you managed to hold it in, and now it all came crashing down upon you. You tried to keep it down, to be as silent as possible, but all those efforts resulted in coughs and gasps as more sobs tore through your body.
Sam was no different. shaking and crying her heart out and you just stumbled over to her and pulled her closer. And she let you, she clung to you in a way that reminded you of Tara. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, or how long it took for tears to dry up. You just feel lighter when you separated from Sam.
"We owe Anika," you finally said, your voice cracking and hoarse, you were tired from all the crying.
Sam nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.
You realized Tara was gone when, around nine p.m. you called Mindy to see why Tara wasn't answering her phone. And then all hell broke loose because Tara wasn't with Mindy or Chad, and she wasn't answering her phone. So, it turned into an all-out search. Driving from one party to another until Mindy called you an hour and a half later. Anika saw Tara at a party and before Anika could do anything Tara left with all the wrong people.
It took slamming a man into the wall to get the address. Miles away from where you were. Miles away from your apartment. So, you drove even more recklessly than you did when you were trying to catch up to Sam.
And you found Tara.
And you wouldn't be surprised if you broke more than a couple of bones at that house.
And you called Sam to tell her the moment you lowered Tara onto the backseat of your car.
And you brought Tara back home.
And she was fine.
Just so damn drunk she barely even registered you were there.
You'd deal with Tara's recklessness first thing in the morning. Right now, you just needed to go to bed and hold her. So, you did just that, you didn’t even have to pull her closer, because the moment you slipped under the covers, she instinctively moved closer to you.
“Y/N,” she mumbled, still drunk and asleep.
You just sighed and wrapped your arms around her holding her close so you wouldn’t fall apart once again.
~X~
Her head was killing her, and she moved closer to you, hoping that would help her go back to sleep, but it wasn’t working, she had one hell of a hangover and wasn’t feeling that good. Slowly she blinked, adjusting to the light and then she looked at your face. Tara’s eyes widened as she realized you were crying.
You… she never saw you crying before, and yet you cried last night. And then the memories of what happened came back, making her feel nauseous. She drank too much, didn’t answer her phone, went to a party to a part of town she didn’t even know, and she remembered the look on that guy’s face, the realization that she wasn’t safe and then you came and got her out of there. Tara swallowed the lump in her throat and hugged you tighter.
She messed up, she knew that, but the alcohol made her forget about Woodsboro, about everything that happened. She just wanted to be a normal teenager, to go out to parties, to not live in the past and let those three days define her.
And with the freedom she just now found she didn’t know when or how to stop.
A/N: Honestly, I think Tara was mostly fine in Woodsboro, but then New York gives her all the opportunities to pretend nothing wrong happened, and we gradually reach Scream 6 Tara from the party.
Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
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allwaswell16 · 2 months ago
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A One Direction fic rec of hurt/comfort fics as requested in this ask. This rec is a part 2, you can find part 1 here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!
- Louis / Harry -
❤️‍🩹 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere
(E, 149k, superheroes) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.
❤️‍🩹 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves
(M, 66k, famous/not famous) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band.
❤️‍🩹 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed
(M, 61k, time travel) Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.
❤️‍🩹 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie
(E, 46k, soulmates) Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. 
❤️‍🩹 Train Tracks and Porcelain by @jaerie
(E, 41k, historical circus au) Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes. Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU
❤️‍🩹 Caves End by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom
(E, 39k, farm) the one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.
❤️‍🩹 My Other Half Was You by @lululawrence
(NR, 35k, acrobat Louis) By the age of 30, Louis' entire life trajectory had changed from what he'd thought it would be. He moved back to the town he grew up in and did his best to pull himself and his life back together again.
❤️‍🩹 All Out of Love by SunTomato / @sun-tomato
(G, 32k, cupid au) While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself.
❤️‍🩹 Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup
(M, 25k, omegaverse) Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers.
❤️‍🩹 Scarred by @allwaswell16
(E, 23k, omegaverse) As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death.
❤️‍🩹 what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove
(E, 22k, fwb) A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for.
❤️‍🩹 some evening in springtime by delsicle / @eeveedel
(M, 20k, age difference) Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills.
❤️‍🩹 Safe place to hide us away by @lunarheslwt
(T, 12k, omegaverse) weighed down by everyday stress, alpha Harry takes up nesting in secret. It takes a load of missing clothes and unravelling lies for him to realise that his omega would love and accept him no matter what.
❤️‍🩹 Close Enough to Touch by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf
(M, 11k, tour au) Louis definitely did not need a masseuse on tour. Not even if that masseuse turned out to be gorgeous, kind, and lovely.
❤️‍🩹 I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis
(NR, 5k, flower shop) Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.
❤️‍🩹 Together We're the Greatest by @hellolovers13
(E, 4k, exes) It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last.
❤️‍🩹 The Cowboy In Us All by @taggiecb
(G, 3k, famous/famous) When the real pain of trouble in their relationship gets to be too much they turn to the one thing that they can control; the messages in the songs they sing onstage.
❤️‍🩹 Remember Me (When I'm With You) by liberty_barnes / @liberty-barnes
(T, 1k, fallen angel Louis) the one where Louis was cast out and Harry just wants him to be happy.
- Rare Pairs -
❤️‍🩹 your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic
(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 
❤️‍🩹 a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface
(NR, 10k, Niall/Harry) Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.
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byhuenii · 1 year ago
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⊱☆⊰ female nanamin ?!
synopsis — dating THE nanami kento’s younger sister. (WC: erm..) pairing — gojo satoru x nanami!reader warnings — not proofread, fluff, typos, whipped satoru, switched between you/your to she/her (im just indecisive) , maybe more im missing. a/n — nanami :heartbroken: i thought of this idea and i’d thought it’d be funny because nanami is DEF a protective older brother i mean look at the way he beat tf out of haruta…just sayingg~ this lwk shit but i was bored
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gojo satoru the strongest sorcerer in the world was here at jujutsu tech following you around like a lost puppy,
“ satoru go away” you groaned fasting your walking pace of course it was no as the long legged man studded. “ no you haven’t paid attention to me ” he whined grabbing your hand pulling you closer to him,
“ you know damn well we could get caught. ” your eyes wondered the empty halls looking for anyone or everyone who could pass by
“ but isn’t that the fun part? getting caught? ” he smiled stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, “ mhm, fun until kento catches you ” your hand snakes up to his hair combing through it,
“ he’s never caught me. ” he sounded so proud, “ you’re such a liar. remember that one time… ”
(flashback in the spongebob voice)
“ please just once kiss come on, ” gojo begged circling around you annoyingly, your shoulders tended up. “ shut up gojo! ” you hushed him pushing,
“ just one please just oneee~ ” his whines only got whiner and whiner. covering your ears ignoring the whiney unkissed man “ la la la i cant hear youu~ ” marching toward you made a b-line to your classroom ducking and dodging the man’s attempt.
your classroom door was in sight but the man child following you grabbed you pining you againts the wall, pulling your hands down from your covered ears “ now that was just mean yn, why’d you do that broke my heart ” he dramatically sighed stuffing his face into the crook of your neck placing small kisses,
it brought him comfort. the perfume you had sprayed on earlier was his favorite scent of yours. a grin formed onto his lips biting down on your neck. your eyes popped wide pushing him off you “ satoru stop..who knows ” you pulled on his ear, “ you’re being dramatic he won’t find out ” that cocky grin still was drawn out on his face
“ who wont find out? ” kento pushed the door open from inside your classroom. its like satori’s soul left his body when kento walked out the classroom. he was right there his ass would’ve been dead if he walked out earlier “ gojo was messing around with your extra pair of glasses and broke them! ” you had randomly blurted out. it wasn’t half a lie he had in fact broke kento’s glasses a while ago..
kento glared at the white haired man who’s ear was turning red from you tanking it, “ you blindfolded dumbass. ” kento cursed walking up to satoru, you had let go of his ear gesturing to kento he was all his
(end of flashback in spongebob voice)
“ yeah that was your fault we almost got caught. ” you snickered at him placing your hand on his back rubbing it in circles, “ it wasn’t my fault, well it was. but you completely snitched on me !! ”
“ well it’s called saving my ass from the destruction you caused, ” your voice was so sickeningly sweet it was tooth rotting. “ still wasn’t my fault you got us caught.” he denied again refusing to believe he was the problem
“ nope you almost got us caught. ” you popped the p on nope, “ you were ignoring me and not giving me a kiss i so deserved. ” he moved his face that was stuffed comfortably in the crook of your neck to look at you
“i guess…BUT it was only once see! ” an annoying smile plastered on his face, moving your hand from out of his hair you mentally face palmed “ satoru it happened twice. you’re forgetting the time we were training. ”
(flashback in spongebob voice)
you had already been training with your 2nd years maki was on the verge of beating your ass, that girl was something else. you didn’t feel the need to use your cursed technique against maki, you weren’t the strongest in the combat department but you could definitely hold your own,
sweat was dripping down both of your foreheads a tired exhausted look washed along maki’s face, “ is maki getting tired?~ ” you teased making maki scowl. kicking your leg up to maki’s head which she effortlessly blocked. you ended up doing a 1 2 combo making her lose her balance,
you were so in the zone when you didn’t even notice gojo being your own personal cheerleader until maki pointed it out. your eyes bored into gojos with his white frilly holographic pom poms, he traded the blindfold for the glasses today.
“ go yn ! go yn ! go go ” he cheered causing a small flood of pink to wash over your cheeks, “ i hate this guy. . ” you made your way over to him snatching one of his pom poms, “ you like them? ” he asked shaking the one pom pom he had around like a cheerleader, “ they remind me of you sadly”
“ what do you mean sadly?! ” he huffed like a little boy not getting ice cream, “ it’s supposed to be a good thing ”, he started poking you like crazy. he definitely wanted to get on your nerves today.
you slapped the back of his head, thankfully his infinity was disabled giving you a nice clean hit to his newly shaved undercut, “ i hate you, so annoying ” you groaned planning on walking towards maki who was chatting away with nobara,
“ that’s obviously not what you told me last night,” he said outloud for only you to here “we can always recreate it again..in case you forgot” your eyes widen blush spreading all across your cheeks like a wildfire
“ you. you. YOU. ” lost for absolutely words you grabbed his collar shaking him, “ aw you love me so much you want to kiss me ” he laughed,
“ you love me so much that you want to tell kento—” he acted so cheekily he was about to expose the relationship without the slightest ideas. “ tell me what?” kento held a tight grip onto satoru’s shoulder, it’s as if satoru saw a ghost
“ th- that you have a lovely sister, she’s so lovely and strong” he turned his head slowly looking at kento who’s face was covered in shadow. expression unrecognizable. there was an undeniable silence that filled the air of the three of you. “ gojo..are you hitting on my sister?” you swore the silence between those two last for centuries.
“ uhm no i wasnt! ” (🤓☝️)
“ yes you are. ” his voice deepened sending chills down satoru’s spine. satoru started to wiggle out of kento’s grasp “the elders are calling me and you know me i have to listen to them” he squeaked at kento’s gaze, “ since when did you listen to the elders? ”
“ since TODAY! ” he made an escape, “ don’t run away from me you egotistical bastard ”
(end of flashback in spongebob voice)
“ he could quite literally rip my ass outta infinity and feed me megumi’s dogs! ” he dramatically started shaking you, “ he wouldn’t. ”
“ yes he would, he could kick my ass and would do it again and laugh” he continued shaking you like you were some kind of rag doll, “ you’re being dramatic. ”
“no im being real! he would like have you seen that hunk— ” you cover his mouth with your free hand, “ no he wouldn’t and please stop shaking me satoru ”, you could feel his lips form a pout under your hand,
“ no toru? satoru? did i really downgrade that much? ” moving your hand away from his mouth “ you haven’t given me a kiss at all today so no ” he stuck out his tongue at you, “ you’re so annoying ”
you quickly smashed your lips against his, his lips were so soft and tender against yours. the small breathes of yours tickled satoru’s upper lip.
your hands snaked back up to satoru’s hair pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, satoru taken by shock had a small grin form against his lips, you know he had that stupid cocky smile making you break into a smile,
realizing that you were not in the comfort of your own home or his, you quickly pulled away. pinkish red lip stick smothered all over his lips as if he had a drunken passionate make out session,
a whine had escaped his lips making your smile widen some more. “ there, you had your kiss now shoo ” you tried pushing him off your body with failed, “ that’s not fair, i cant just get one ”
“ now you’re being needy stop it satoru ” you bit your inner cheek trying to hold back a giggle, satoru just rolled his eyes placing small mini angel kisses around your lips, the crinkles of your eyes. the dimples, the moles. he loved your face it was one of his favorite features
satoru had you basically pressed against the wall near your office, small giggles escaped your lips as he kept pressing kisses. they were feathery and ticklish, the two of you had been in your own world you forgot you were at the school for a moment.
“ w..what the hell. ” you hear a deep voice. it was laced with mainly shock and a hint of disgust. the voice made you snap your head in the direction it came from, lord and behold the two of you were caught by none other than kento,
gojo groaned at the person interrupting him letting out a deep sigh slowly turning his head to where yours was, “ jeez man give us some— ” his voice was laced with annoyance before he even saw the person. by the time he looked over his eyes had widened as big as saucer pans,
mouth agaped, he knew he was caught and a part of him wanted to laugh and keep kissing you but his body wouldn’t listen to him, “ well shit. ”
“ gojo what are you doing with my sister ? ” his voice was calm but his face. his face screamed you better run before i catch you. “ well nothing. i was just asking her about something !! ” he defended himself trying to come up with a lie on the spot.
“ mhm and the lipstick smeared on your lips say otherwise ” he walked closer to the two of you, gojo desperately tried to get rid of the evidence. “ your glasses are fogging nanamin there was no lipstick stain! ” a small giggle escaped your lips watching the gojo satoru get rid of all evidence,
satoru’s whole demeanor shifted into a soft gooey attitude hearing a giggle escape your lips from his antics, kento wasn’t stupid. he noticed it a small smile formed on his lips knowing he has made you giggle laugh and smile, he had almost forgotten it was gojo satoru until that stupid blindfolded man held your hand,
clearing his throat, “ gojo. are you dating my younger sister? ” his face just turned cold. an irritation just washed over kento’s body, “ she’s your sister?? whatt that’s crazy i didn’t know you had a younger sister nanamin! ” he tried to play it off practically jumping away from you.
kento stared at him with an annoyed expression, gojo was a blabbering mess trying to explain himself, “ you’re basically female nanamin! that’s so crazy! ” he tried to laugh at the information he already knew,
“ i knew you were stupid but seriously the stupid act makes you look like a dumbass. ” kento’s scowl sent shivers down his spine, he started walking closer to satoru closing the distance
“ wait wait IM SORRY PLEASE IM SORRY. ” satoru pleaded hiding behind you, even though he knew his tall lanky ass wasn’t hiding himself.
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the-captain89 · 1 month ago
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Ride Home
The concert just left out. As you walk to the train home, you eagerly check your phone for any message from me. Your phone vibrates and lights up: “Hey, Doll. How was your show?”
“It was wonderful Sir!”
“Excellent. Take a couple of edibles for your ride home, Doll.”
“Yes, Sir!” You reply. Reaching into your purse, you produce a couple of medicated cookies, and eat them up. You’re not sure if they’ll have time to kick in before you get home, but at least you’ll be good and stoned when Sir picks you up from the train station. You slowly wander to the subway, you’re only a few blocks away and the train doesn’t leave for another half hour, so you have some time to read dirty posts on tumblr.
Your phone lights up with another text: "Take one more edible for me, Doll.” Without hesitation you stop, grab another cooking and chew it up, while replying “Yes Sir!”
You’re getting a little wet, just thinking about being absolutely stoned, while Sir has his way with you. As you turn a corner, you run into a bunch of flashing lights and caution tape. A cop politely informs you that the street is closed for an investigation, you’ll have to take the long way to the  subway. Not to worry, still plenty of time before the train leaves, right? You check your watch. “Shit, it’ll be close” you pick up your pace, speed walking down the streets, occasionally checking your watch. “Shit shit shit” you wish you could run, but there’s no way you could with these shoes on. 
You finally arrive at the subway, buy your ticket, make your way down the stairs, and watch as your train pulls out of the tunnel. Fuck. You text me to apologize. “I’m sorry Sir, I missed my train. The next train is in 45 minutes.” “That’s ok, babydoll, I’ll wait for you. That train ride should be fun for you, those edibles should be kicking in before you even get on the train!” The thought excites you. You patiently wait while browsing tumblr, and you notice a few strangers take notice of you while you sit there. Scenarios play out in your head where they take advantage of you, and you feel your panties getting wetter. You text me, “Sir, I’m getting so turned on, may I touch myself?”  “No. Let those thoughts marinate in your pretty little head. I’ll take care of that drippy pussy when I pick you up” You would be disappointed, if my words weren’t driving your imagination wild all over again. 
The sound of the train squealing into the station snaps you back to reality. As you stand from your seat, you feel that you may have gotten a little wetter than you initially thought. You blush at the thought of someone noticing. The train is pretty full, you find yourself a seat that’s as secluded as you can find so you can enjoy the high and secretly read smut. As the train rocks along the tracks, your mind gets lost deep in the story you’re reading. As your mind drifts, your head leans back, your eyes close, and you subconsciously spread your legs a little bit. The train speeds through a tunnel and you’re quickly reminded of where you are. Your head snaps forward, eyes open, and you notice a few nearby passengers quickly averting their gaze. They were clearly watching you.  
An idea pops into your head, and you quickly text me. “Sir, I know I can’t touch myself, but what if someone else does it for me?”  Intrigued, I tell you to explain your plan. You tell me all about how you’re drifting away into your stories, and the men may have caught you. “Okay, babydoll. How about this: You may not ask anyone to touch you, they have to approach on their own, Just keep doing what you’ve been doing and see if anyone is brave enough.” Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” You return to reading dirty stories, and it’s not long before once again, your eyes close, your head tilts back and your legs spread. There’s no tunnel to bring you back to reality this time, who knows how long it’s been. 10, 20 minutes? 
Suddenly you feel that someone has taken a seat next to you. You keep your eyes closed. A few minutes pass, and then your neighbor shifts in their seat, their hand “accidentally” falls onto your thigh. You don’t make any attempt to move it. The hand gets braver, reaching down to the hem of your skirt, and rubbing their hand on your bare thigh. Your mind begins to blindly analyze the hand: “Big fingers. A little rough, some type of blue-collar worker?” They squeeze your thigh, and you let out a small whimper. “Strong hands!” your brain tells you. The train rocks along, and he slides his hand up your thigh, finally reaching your panties. They’re soaking wet, and getting wetter the closer his hand comes to your pussy. He’s been moving so slowly, you just want to scream “Finger me already you bastard!” but you know the rules, you can’t ask for it. 
Finally he slips his hand down into your panties, and shoves 3 fingers into your pussy. “Damn, right to 3 fingers, this is not a man who knows how to work a woman up.” you think, “Although at this point I’ll take what I can get.” His hands are rough, and his technique is..mediocre at best, but you can work with it. You move your hips at the speed you want him to go. It takes him a minute, but it feels like he’s beginning to understand. His pace matches your hips and it's starting to feel good. You work your hips a little faster trying to get closer, he seems to pick up on the signal, and works his fingers in your pussy faster. You pick up the speed a little more, and he does the same. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier. You’re almost there, just a little more! Suddenly he stops, quickly pulls his hand from your cunt, and leans away from you. 
You open your eyes and notice someone was walking by, it scared him. “Damn. That’s okay, we can still get there.” you think. Closing your eyes, you patiently wait for him to get back to work. He’s apparently  a little skittish, and he’s slow to return to your pussy. When he finally gets brave enough to insert his fingers, he’s apparently forgotten all the work you put in before. He’s back to the rough, hard fingering. Again, you rock your hips, encouraging him to match your pace. “Ah there you go, now you remember!” You work with him, slow at first, picking up the pace. Faster and faster, those big fat fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. Faster. Faster! You’re getting there, just about there, just a little more…. And then the train comes to a stop, you’re at your stop. 
“Motherfucker” you whisper under your breath as you stand up, straighten your skirt, and make your way to the door. Your disappointment quickly fades as you see me waiting in the terminal for you. You run up, jump into my arms and kiss me. “Let’s go home, Sir, I want to cum for you” I laugh and carry you out to my truck, buckle you in and begin the trek home. I reach over and feel your cunt. “Well my porcelain Doll, you clearly had a good train ride.” “UGH, NO!” you nearly yell. You tell me all about your ride home, how you got so close twice, only to be disappointed. “Aw, my babydoll, come here." You lean into me, and I slowly start rubbing your wet cunt. You moan and push your hands into my hand, practically begging me to put my fingers inside of you. I slowly push two fingers in, gently massaging your dripping pussy. Slowly feeling around, slipping my fingers in and out. Just as you did on the train, you grind your hips into my hand, harder and faster. Unlike the stranger on the train, I don’t match your pace, I continue my slow, steady pace. I want to really take my time, and build you up at my pace.
As we speed down the highway, the music blasting and the wind in your hair, you keep trying to get me to make you cum, pushing harder on my hand, whimpering. But my pace is unwavering. Just when you’re really starting to get frustrated, I add a third finger, which causes you to gasp. Now I pick up my pace, pushing my fingers deeper into your pussy, driving them in and out faster and faster. Your hips rock, your breathing picks up, you’re getting close now. As we pull into the driveway, you’re ready to go. I put the truck in park, grab your head with my free hand, and pull your face close to mine. “Come for me, baby doll” You scream out as your body convulses with a powerful orgasm. While you writhe in the passenger seat, I give your pussy a few slaps. The sensation on your sensitive cunt drives you insane, making you cum again. 
You lean into me, panting. “Thank you, daddy” “Your welcome, baby. Now let's go inside.” I walk around to the passenger side, open the door, and pull you into my arms and carry you inside.
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bellysoupset · 2 months ago
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The “sick but caretaker doesn’t believe them” troupe has been absolutely stuck in my mind!!
I keep thinking of a scenario where Wen/Vin have a bit of an argument or disagreement and they part ways. After a bit they meet up again where Vince starts feeling a little sick but Wendy thinks it’s him playing it up for her since he feels bad about the argument. However suddenly, it hits him like a train and Wendy feels sorry for laying of his comments
We haven't been in a scenario where Vince/Wen would work like this... Until now. A little more lighthearted than your normal "caretaker doesn't believe them" fic, though! I just can't see Wendy being mean like Bell.
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Wendy let out a squeal as Ma scoffed and planted her calloused hands over Wen's, sinking them in the dough, "what?" the woman said roughly, forcing Wendy's fingers in, "you're disgusted by the food?"
"No!" She said quickly, "I just didn't want to mess it up-" and now she was all sticky and had no idea of what to do next. Couldn't even scratch her nose because there was flour up to her elbows and sticky dough keeping her fingers glued together.
"There's no messing it up," Magda rolled her eyes fondly, "don't just stand there like a statue, knead it, Wendy!"
"Sorry! Sorry-" Wendy chuckled, starting to press the dough in. It seemed like she was making a bigger mess and she had no idea how Ma was so calm, considering Wendy's mother would've been having a stroke.
"Aw, there you are," Vince's voice rung through the kitchen and Wendy looked past her shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, sweaty and panting from being in the yard playing basketball with his dad and his sister, "I lost you."
"Don't come into my kitchen all sweaty, Vicenzo!" Ma cried out, but her son ignored her, all but draping himself on Wendy, resting his chin to the top of her head.
"Vince, you're all sticky," Wendy whined, cringing. Vince had been all over her lately and after his little jealous episode with Max, she had thought it was over with, but nope. He seemingly didn't want her out of his eyesight even for a minute, causing for some embarrassment with his family.
"Uhm," Vince pouted, squeezing her despite Wendy's complaints, "what are you cooking?"
"Ma's teaching me how to make gnocchi," Wen perked up, continuing to push around the sticky mess, that was slowly coming together, "scratch my nose?"
Vince scratched it for her, still refusing to let go, paying no mind to Wendy squirming or his mother complaining about his presence. He was like a furnace and Wendy more than once tried to push him off of her, to the point she was getting increasingly frustrated. There was being loving and there was... Whatever this was.
"Vince, let go off me," she jammed her elbow on his chest, not to hurt him, but so it was uncomfortable enough he'd stop hugging her like an octopus. He pulled back, frowning and seeming terribly upset.
"I don't feel well, can't we just cuddle and watch a movie?"
Wendy had to restrain herself not to eyeroll, while Ma let out an open snort, "you're not six, Vince, learn how to share your friends. Get out of here."
He glared at his mom, then at Wendy, and turned around without a word. Wendy cringed, it was really hard to annoy her boyfriend and she didn't want to find out how it was being in his bad side.
"Okay, now where was I- Right, the potatoes," Ma wasn't bothered at all by her son's behavior, pulling Wendy be the elbow and demanding her attention.
It was almost an hour and a half later when she was released from her almost-mother-in-law claws, feeling incredibly accomplished with herself.
Vince was draped in the living room couch, while Liv was cuddled up on his side, both of them watching Inside Out. He raised his eyes when Wendy walked in, but other than that said nothing and Wen pouted.
"Aw, honey, don't sulk," she grinned, running to the couch and jumping over them. Livia let out a squeal and Wendy attacked her with kisses, before turning to do the same to her boyfriend, but Vince had an angry frown on and instead he moved so he was sitting up.
"I'm not sulking," he scoffed, pushing himself up and Livia nearly fell off the couch. Wendy caught her by the armpits, pulling the little girl up to sit on her lap and taking her previous spot, so she could be in the small edge that Vince's body left on the couch.
"Do you think he's sulking?" Wendy grinned to Livia, who had wrapped her arms around her neck. Liv studied her brother, before nodding enthusiastically.
"Very."
"Very? He's sulking very much?" Wendy leaned in, kissing Liv's nose, "how can we cheer him up?"
"Wendy, get off of me," Vince groaned, clearly not in the mood. Wen's amused smile wavered and then vanished as Vin pushed her thigh, all but shoving her out of the couch.
"VIN!" Livia cried out as they both fell on the rug, her shrill voice muffling Wendy's much more pissed off, "Vince, what the fuck?"
Her desire to yell at her boyfriend though disappeared in an instant, because Vince was sitting up straight, hunched over his middle, a hand hovering over his lips.
"MAAAAAAA Vinny's SIIICK!" Livia yelled, getting up, and Vince winced at the screaming, while Wendy scooted closer, planting a hand on his shoulder.
She cursed herself, he was so warm. Wendy had erroneously assumed it was because of the basketball game. She rubbed his back, "Vin, honey, let's get you to a bathroom, c'mon-"
"No," his voice was thick with nausea and Vince squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing convulsively, "not- Not-"
"Liv, stop yelling!" Sophia exclaimed, entering the room holding a popcorn bucket and shoving it in her brother's chest, "Babbo told you, you looked green earlier... Couldn't you have gone sit in the bathroom like a grown up, Vin?" she sounded annoyed and Wendy shot her a glare.
"Soph, not now," she said gently, while Vince hugged the bowl, a small burp coming up as well as some watery saliva. Both women cringed, while Livia let out a loud "eeww."
"Liv, shush it," Sophia glared at her baby sister, as if she was being all that much thoughtful. Livia pouted, glaring right back.
"You shush it," she showed her tongue, causing the teenager to do the same and Wendy rolled her eyes at the interaction, thanking God she was an only child, then jumped slightly as Vince gagged and an impressive wave of his liquified lunch fell in the bowl.
He panted over the bucket, clearly feeling like hell and Wendy rubbed his back, heart clenching as Vin let out a little moan and heaved again. Over his head, Sophia gulped up, paling and just like her brother did, she turned a little green.
"Sophia, get out of here," Wendy sighed, "I got him."
Soph gulped down, nodding and grabbing Livia, who let out a squeal at being picked up as if she was a doll.
"But Vin is sick, Soph, I wanna be with him-" Wendy heard the little girl whining at being carried away. Under Wen's hand, Vince let out a relieved sigh.
"Thanks..." He croaked, resting his forehead on the edge of the bucket.
"No, don't thank me," Wendy sighed, sitting next to him, "I should've heard you when you said you felt sick."
"I didn't- I didn't say it like that-" He tried to argue and she shook her head, frustrated.
"Vince," she pushed his curls back, away from his sweaty forehead, "I shouldn't have brushed you off, I'm sorry."
He leaned against her hand, moving so his mouth was once again hanging over the bowl and spat the saliva pooling in his mouth, "Gon'be sick..."
"That's okay, get it up," Wendy moved so she could hold the bowl with her free hand, not trusting his weak grasp, "you're gonna feel better soon."
Vince let out yet another airy, empty burp and gagged once, twice- He lurched forward with another heave and she cringed, the bucket getting considerably heavier as her boyfriend turned inside out.
He coughed, then let out a moan, head hanging and a line of drool falling from his lips, "M'sorry..."
"Don't apologize for being sick," she berated him lightly, kissing his feverish forehead, "you know this stuff doesn't gross me out."
Vince gulped down, then forced up a bigger burp and spat another foul mouthful of liquid, before leaning back and away from the bucket.
"Done...?" Wendy wasn't sure she believed him when he nodded, he was still really pale. Still, she took the bucket and planted it on the coffee table, carefully moving on the couch in order to rub Vince's arm, "deep breaths, honey."
"I'm really..." His voice broke and Vince cleared his throat, "really sorry."
"Honey, don't-"
"No, not-" he pressed a fist to his mouth, muffling a burp and gagging. Wendy's hand shot to retrieve the bucket, but he settled back down, "not about this."
She raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"
"Bou'everything...Else," his voice was thick with nausea and Vince closed his eyes, breathing through another wave of queasiness. Wendy frowned, unsure of what he meant, but not liking one bit the direction this conversation was heading to.
She combed her fingers softly through his hair, nails on his scalp, and Vince opened his eyes once more, turning his head so his forehead was against her palm. His dark eyes had little pained lines around them and he looked damn close to tears, causing something horrible to settle in Wendy's stomach, "Vin?"
"You're working so much because I left," he blurted out, then glared at her when Wendy promptly opened her mouth to retort, "no. Don't lie to me."
"I- I'm not- I..." And she wasn't. Wendy loved her job and she loved all of her hobbies and her classes, she wasn't doing any of that to get back at him or to fill in any voids... But she missed him. She missed him so much, being in Doveport for such an extended amount of time just highlighted how much she adored being Vince's company.
It wasn't the sex that she missed or doing all the cutesy couple things that they couldn't thanks to the long distance — although, those as well — but it was him. She missed how warm her boyfriend was and and how upbeat and caring he was, how he refused to kill even a spider and the way his hair products had started to take over her vanity back when they shared a town. She missed his cooking and how Vince never ever shouted no matter how annoyed she made him and the way that he looked in those rare mornings where Wendy managed to wake up before him...
"Wen?"
"I miss you," she was choked up all of sudden, "but I'm not- I'm not-"
Vince frowned, then moved slightly on the couch, so he could get closer to her. Wendy felt another stab of guilt, why was he comforting her, when he was the one so sick?
"Hey, it's okay-"
"Is this why you're all over me?" Wendy realized, moving her hand from his hair and sitting up straight, "because you're guilty?"
Vince's eyes were dazed with fever as he shook his head, "I miss you," he said, in a small voice, before he jostled with a cough, hand rushing up to his mouth. Wendy helped him lean forward to cough, only to immediately be forced to grab the bucket as the fit turned into gags.
He held it with a groan, face twisting in disgust since it hadn't bee emptied, and Vince gagged harshly. Wendy held the bucket as well, her free hand rubbing his back up and down, while her mind whirled. She hadn't thought things were bad between them, they were making long distance work, right? They were great at it...
"Aw, piccolino," Giuseppe stepped into the living room and caused Wendy's head to snap. She was always a little amazed by how young Vince's dad looked, although he was well into his sixties. The man was wearing the basketball shorts from when he had been playing with Sophia and Vince, but now with a dad sweater on top, creating the weirdest combo, "Wendy, let's get him to bed, okay?"
"No," Vince moaned, gagging once more and spitting up another mouthful, "I wanna go home..."
It was like his father had been slapped and Wendy cringed in sympathy. Surely Vince's parents hadn't expected him to no longer consider his childhood home... Well, home.
"I got him," Wendy said gently, "really, I got him."
Giuseppe blinked quickly, collecting himself, "of course, sweetheart. You just holler if you need anything?"
"Yeah," Wendy's whole face was aflame, as Vince took measured breaths, trying to get his stomach in check. Without thinking she added, "I'm sorry" and the older man waved her off, face turning all wrinkly as he smiled.
"You got him," he said in a soft, fond manner, that caused Wendy's eyes to well up in tears unprompted, "I'm not worried."
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