#backpacks chapter 2... puts head in hands

[hellcheeriest]

i bet hes never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single Father!Steve

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Summary: Steve and Dustin arrive at the convention, Steve finds Eddie more attractive in person, Eddie finds Steve attractive in general, Robin and Chrissy begin to figure some things out.

Content warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26) Steve feels as though he's too old to be acting like he is (I know 31 isn't old! Steve just grew up too fast as a teen dad, so he feels like his mind is beyond his years.) light angst, smoking, swearing, flirting

A/N: hey team.... lol. so sorry for the wait! now i wrote this between the hours of 2-4am (as i am uploading it is 4:10) so i apologize for any mistakes! Thank you for reading!

W/C:4.6k

STEVE HARRINGTON

“Dustin! Slow down!” Steve called out. His son had already made it halfway across the parking lot, practically sprinting to the doors.

“Come on Dad!” Dustin turned around and let his dad catch up. He grabbed the elder's hand, pulling him along.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve kept a tight hold on Dustin's hand. He’d done his research on convention etiquette and came across an article about adults losing their children and he told himself he’d be completely sure of where Dustin was at all times. The backpack he donned was filled with multiple water bottles, and his wallet had both cash and his debit and credit cards in case of any financial emergency.

They’d gotten there much earlier than they needed to, but with Steve’s anxiety and Dustin’s exhilaration, neither of them minded having to wait around until they opened the doors for the panel. Dustin talked Steve’s ear off, rambling about anything and everything related to the convention.

Steve fiddled with the tag on the lanyard he and Dustin were given upon entry, and he finally realised the reality of the scenario. Soon, he’d be in a room with not only a hundred other people, but the man he’d been pining for in secret for the past who knows how long. He was brought out of his thoughts by Dustin tugging on his sleeve.

The two filed into the large room along with a bunch of other people, and Steve’s grip on Dustin’s arm was probably tighter than it should’ve been as they found their way to an open pair of seats. The group that Steve had paid an exorbitant amount of money to see would be taking the stage soon, and Steve could feel his son practically vibrating next to him.

“You sure you’re gonna make it through this without exploding?” Steve asked and Dustin nodded.

“I have to!” Dustin exclaimed and Steve laughed, putting a hand on his son's head, twisting his fingers into his curls. Dustin wore a bright yellow sweater Steve recognized as his own, and the smile he wore was brighter than Steve had seen in a while. More people would pour into the room, and the multiple conversations would be overwhelming if Steve wasn’t focused on the way the lights dimmed and a woman walked on stage.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” She called into the microphone. The voices around quieted, and Steve tensed in his seat. “My name is Tory, and I will be hosting the event we’ve all come out here for. So, what do you say we get our guests up here and get this thing started?” The audience cheered and the streamers came on stage one by one before walking to their respective seats. A guy with dirty blond curls led the way up the stage, introduced as ‘Gareth,’ and the rest followed in. There was Austin, Chrissy (who Steve recognized from the singular stream he’d watched), Robin and Jeff. They all seemed to notice at the same time as the audience that Eddie wasn’t trailing behind them. After a moment, the applause faded and Gareth sighed into the microphone in front of him.

“This asshole.” The audience laughed, and only a moment later did Eddie shuffle on stage. Clapping and cheering surrounded Steve, but he could hardly hear it as his eyes focussed on Eddie’s form. 

It was different to seeing him through a TV screen, and he wasn’t sure how Eddie could get any more attractive. His hair was loose, reaching down past his collarbones. It was curly, and wild, and free. He wore a pair of black skinny jeans, torn at the knees and thighs, chains hanging from two of his belt loops. His shirt was looser, the white fabric clashing with the black of the tattoo’s that spread down both of  his arms, and had graphic text of a band name Steve could vaguely recall. He could feel Dustin’s grip on his arm as he too watched in awe, although for a completely different reason. Eddie finally reached his chair, taking a theatrical bow before sitting down. 

“I love you, Eddie!” Someone called from farther back in the room. Eddie’s eyebrows raised and he smiled.

“Woah,” He spoke into his microphone, pulling a piece of his hair over his mouth. “Love you too.” Part of the audience cheered and Eddie leaned away from his microphone.

“Stop flirting with the audience, man.” Gareth scolded half-heartedly and Eddie returned his words with a raised middle finger, sparking genuine laughter from Gareth.

“So!” Tory spoke, cutting off the pair's bickering. Let's start off with a few games, yeah?”

About half an hour and a couple of games later, they’d finally reached the question portion of the panel. Tory explained that they would start off with submitted questions and then move to having a few audience members ask their own. Pulling out a clipboard, presumably the clipboard that held the predetermined questions, Tory smiled.

“Alright! First question is from ‘Hellfire’, with an ‘i’ on Twitter. It reads, ‘Robin when did you first realise you were a lesbian?’” Robin smiled and thought for a quick moment before answering. 

“Well, I think I've always known, you know? Like, I never had actual crushes on boys in school and I remember asking myself why I couldn't like girls like the boys liked girls. But then after I got older and learned the queer people existed, and what each label meant, is when I really was able to realise who I am.” Robin rambled, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. The audience gave her claps and snaps and cheers of encouragement.

“Beautifully said, Robin! Our next question is for Austin-” The voice of the host faded away as Steve zeroed in on Eddie once again. He was resting his chin on his pale hand, chunky rings and bands covered his fingers and chipped black nail polish was painted messily on his nails. Even from where they sat, Steve could see the way the corner of Eddie’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, smile lines and dimples on his cheeks accompanying the grin that blessed Eddie's face. The purple and yellow lighting gave his hair and skin a glow that Steve found terribly alluring. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, getting lost in the bright baritone of Eddie’s voice as it mixed in with the others, studying the man before him as if he’d be tested afterwards. He only came back to reality when Eddie’s chuckle crackled through the microphone, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually tune into the words being said.

Soon, the pre-submitted questions had dwindled and after the last few had been asked they moved to having audience members voice their own queries. The audience questions were less organised, many asking about mundane attributes such as favourite meals or shows while others were completely obscure and had the panel struggling to answer.

“Well, we have time for just one more question from the audience.” And before Steve knew it, his son’s hand was shooting up. “Alright, you in the yellow, back there!” A smile spread across Dustin’s face as he stood and made his way to the microphone placed in the aisle between seats.

“So,” Dustin began nervously. Steve watched as he fiddled with his fingers, a nervous tick he’d developed. “Uh, my question is for Eddie?”

“Shoot, little man.” Eddie smiled, warm and welcoming, and Steve tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Ah, um. So, you talk about how school was for you quite often and I wanted to know how exactly you overcame all the uh, the name calling and everything?" Dustin was stuttering through a few words and Steve wanted nothing more than to go over and rub his boy's back. He could do that when Dustin returned. Eddie's face softened and he started to fiddle with the rings that Steve wondered always riddled his fingers.

"Yeah. So for anyone who doesn't watch me that often, I do streams where I talk about my unfortunate middle school and high school years to kind of-- shed light on what it's like for kids who were and are like me," Eddie started. "Uh I was called names," He moved a hand in Dustin's direction. "Messed with physically, all that. As for your question, I think I just started to realise that I'm not what any of those assholes say I am. That they can't push me around anymore.

Obviously, things might work differently for other people but that's what worked for me personally. Plus I was held back a couple of years so my bullies were out of my school life and I was able to be who I am." A few people from the crowd clapped, egging on the rest. Dustin beamed at Eddie's response.

"Thank you," Was the last thing Dustin said before he stepped away from the microphone and back to his seat beside his father.

"How was that?" Steve asked his son who was practically vibrating in his chair.

“That was so cool!” Dustin whispered and Steve smiled. Little did he know how cool it was going to get.

“Who knew you were such a poet, Eddie?” Tory asked and Eddie laughed and shook his head.

“Well, I am a songwriter so I'm technically halfway there.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“That sounds about right.” Tory spoke over the few cheers that broke out. “Well, folks. That’s the end of our time here. Give it up for our wonderful guests!” Applause roared throughout the room as the panel stood and waved to the audience as they left. Steve felt like he could breathe again. He held Dustin close as they made their way outside, just as he had on the way in, and once the warm sun fell on their skin Steve took the backpack off his shoulders and pulled out a few granola bars and bottles of water. Steve spoke again after a few minutes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He stated as he zipped the backpack up, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Really?” Dustin asked from his seat on the concrete curb. “What is it?”

“Can’t tell you. But, we have to be there in the next fifteen minutes so we should make our way over there.” Steve pointed to his watch as Dustin stood up. The boy was obviously starting to grow tired, though the afternoon sun shining in the sky should mean he should still be energised. He tired easily, Steve found, and between the fact Steve knew Dustin didn't get much sleep the night prior and the amount of excitement that filled the boy, Steve was surprised he hadn't crashed yet.

“Lead the way, father dearest.” Dustin said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as he could. That was okay, he’d be truly enthusiastic soon.

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie thanked any god that was out there for the short break he and his friends were given after the panel. It was so much fun being able to talk to his fans, though he found it unfortunate that it was by way of him being on a stage. A specific boy who asked a question stuck out to him. Surprisingly over the others who shouted compliments or "I love you's" at him. Yep. Just a young boy in a large yellow sweatshirt, probably in his middle school or early high school years asking how he overcame the bullying. Eddie swore it almost done broke his heart.

He took a swig of his bottled water and ate a few pieces of the slightly stale pizza that sat in the small room he and his friends were provided. Eddie popped the tape out of his walkman to flip it around. He closed the lid, and pressed down the play button, letting the sound of his mixtape fill his ear through the single earbud he had in.

Wayne had poked fun at him when he bought it. ‘You tryna be old-school or somethin’?’ He’d said as he rubbed his knuckles into his nephew's scalp. Eddie missed his uncle, and couldn't wait to go see the man someday soon.

"I'm so excited to go meet everyone!" Chrissy gushed. She sat on the loveseat, Robin next to her. 

Haha, get it?

"I'm just happy I get to be with you, Chris. I don't know how I would handle everyone by myself." Robin smiled sheepishly. God, Eddie was gonna barf if Robin kept this up. How could two people be so clueless?

Literally, just ask her out already you idiot.

"I'm gonna make my way over to where I gotta be. Good luck, girls." Eddie clipped his walkman onto his jeans waistline and shot finger guns at the two.

"Good luck, Eddie!" Chrissy jumped up to hug him and over her shoulder, Eddie winked at Robin. Robin returned a shy look as Chrissy pulled away.

"Bye, Eddie," Robin mumbled and Eddie huffed humorously before leaving and shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, and finally started to make his way to the next phase of completing this con.

-

It had been about half an hour of meeting fans, taking photos, and receiving small trinkets from crafty fans that he graciously took and thanked their makers. He wasn’t sure of the last time he’d felt so appreciated.

"I love you!" A fan said as they waved each other off.

"I love you too," Eddie would return those words multiple times, and each time he meant it. The photographer called for the next people in line. The next thing he knew, a familiar flash of yellow entered his vision and he recognized the owner of a mop of brown, curly locks. Eddie grinned. Then he noticed the figure following the young man. He was tall, and broad, and also had a mop of brown hair on the top of his head. His hair was not curly like the boy he was with.

Wow, okay.

"Hey, little man!" Eddie brought back the nickname from earlier as the boy tucked himself into Eddie's side, the other man standing just behind his son and in turn behind Eddie.

"Hi!" Yellow shirt was ecstatic and Eddie hugged the boy back. Eddie took a quick look over his shoulder at the slightly taller man, blinking him a greeting and receiving a nod in return. Eddie was sure he’d never seen someone so handsome.

Handsome. He couldn't believe he was using that word, but matched completely with what he was seeing. Broad shoulders, swoopy hair, and shiny eyes. Freckles, straight white teeth and a warmth that radiated off of his body. Eddie wanted to lean into it, always feeling so cold. This guy totally would’ve bullied him in school. But, here he was, not a malicious gilt in his eye.

Maybe Eddie wasn’t as over high school as he thought.

"Three, two, one." The photographer counted down before the flash struck, capturing the image. The youngest started to move and Eddie grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Hey," He started and the boy's confused eyes met Eddies. "Just wanted to remind you of how awesome you are." Eddie's smile was as soft as his eyes were and the latter's eyes widened. The photographer shouted out, trying to keep the momentum, and Eddie wished the boy farewell, giving one last look to the other man. The latter looked back at him, his expression was unreadable, but devastatingly attractive. The two left and Eddie continued on with the now shorter line of people left.

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

Chrissy sighed as she lay down on the loveseat in the group's room. Taking photos and meeting fans personally was super fun, but also very tiring. Robin was going to return soon. She had just left to grab a couple more bottles of water since she and Rob had finished theirs and the only one in the room was Eddie’s and frankly, she did not want to ingest whatever that man's mouth touches. (It was mostly cigarettes, that's all she knew.)

Her mind wandered back to Robin. Chrissy rested her head on the small pillow that sat in the corner of the cushions, almost wishing it was Robin's chest she were resting on instead.

Wait, what? She couldn't think of her best friend like this, could she? 

She couldn’t help but realise she thought this way a lot. What would Robin think? Yeah, she was a lesbian, but that doesn't mean she's interested in just any girl who comes along. Plus, she's Robin's best friend. Keyword, friend. There's no way Robin likes her in any other way than platonically. What would Robin think? Would she hate Chrissy? Her thoughts were cut short when the taller girl burst through the door, Eddie and the rest of the guys following.

"Guys you will never believe this. That one kid that asked that really deep question to me, came to my booth and I think he was there with his dad or something. Anyway the dad, or whatever, was like, super fucking hot--" Eddie's voice trailed off. Chrissy wanted to pay attention to Eddie's rambling, she did, but she had too much to think about right now.

"Hey," Robin's voice cut into Chrissy's thoughts from her spot on the floor next to the loveseat. As much as she loved to hear Robin speak, it was currently the last thing she wanted to hear "You okay?" 

"Yeah, 'm just tired 's all," Chrissy mumbled. Robin looked skeptical before nodding and sending Chrissy a sympathetic look.

-

Chrissy ended up going back to the hotel early while everyone else stayed back a bit longer before they left for a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Robin offered to stay with her, but Chrissy waved her off and told her to have fun with the guys. Robin promised to bring her back some leftovers and let her know she hopes Chrissy feels better. Chrissy smiled weakly before Robin would leave and Chrissy would change into a tank top and shorts and slip into the sheets of the bed she would have to share with the girl she was currently struggling over tonight.

She felt herself tear up.

Why did this have to be so hard? Why did this have to happen now and not in like, high school? She couldn't be having a sexuality crisis right now, not while they were supposed to be having fun at the convention for the next couple of days. Chrissy was scared of rejection, she admitted to herself. Not having feelings bigger than their current friendship, but the idea that she tells Robin these feelings and Robin rejects her and never speaks to her again and--

The tears slid down her cheeks and Chrissy wiped them away.

It was no use though when the last tears would be replaced quickly.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Music quietly played through the speakers of Steve's car. He had placed an order for pickup at his and Dustin's favourite restaurant and they were on their way to go get it. Steve was starving and Dustin was on his way to falling asleep in the passenger seat. After another couple more minutes, they finally arrived at the place and Steve softly nudged Dustin's shoulder.

"I'll be right back, 'kay? Just grabbing the food." He said quietly. Dustin nodded and Steve took that as acknowledgment. He got out of the car and went inside, waiting for a staff member. Someone quickly arrived. Steve told them his business and his name and in return, he earned a big  warm paper bag that would be filled with the dinner. Steve thanked the person who helped him and he walked out of the door and made his way back to his car.

Until he saw a cloud of smoke from where the end of the small parking lot and the wall of the building met. There stood a man who he recognized all too well.

This was stupid. Steve was stupid.

Still, Steve walked over to the other who still wasn't made known of his presence.

"Hey," Steve greeted as he got closer. The long-haired man turned his head, blowing out another cloud of smoke. He tilted his head curiously before he spoke.

"Hi," Eddie said before he dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. "You're the guy that came in with the kid in the yellow, right?" Steve nodded, ignoring how his heart stuttered at the fact he was recognized.

"Yeah, he's my son. I wanted to thank you for what you said to him," Steve began, fiddling with the handle of the paper bag. "He's been having some issues at school. Says watching your videos and stuff makes him feel better." Eddie smiled and rocked back and forth on his feet.

"Nah," He put his cheek to his shoulder and his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "Sucks that shits happening to him. Looks like times haven't changed, huh?" Steve sighed and pursed his lips in a silent apology. "What's your name, pretty boy?" Eddie asked. Steve laughed and shook his head lightly as blood rushed to his face. God, he hadn’t felt like this in ages.

"Steve," He answered. Eddie stepped forward, leaving limited space between the two. Steve blinked, his legs feeling as though they were full of lead.

"Well, Steve." Eddie pulled something out of his pocket before reaching his arm through the space of Steve's arm and torso, slipping whatever was in his hand into the back pocket of Steve's jeans. He let his hand stay there a second, eyes not reaching Steve's, but rather trailing over each feature on his face. After what felt like forever, Eddie removed his hand. He patted Steve's hip. "An… Offer. If you want it." Eddie stared up at Steve through his eyelashes. Their height difference wasn't much, but it was enough for Eddie to have to turn his eyes upwards.

Eddie took a step back. Steve sighed.

"I have to return to my friends. They're probably wondering where I am." He took one last look, up and down, at Steve. "Hope that serves you well," Eddie smirked before he turned around and walked back towards the entrance of the restaurant.

Steve froze for a second before he reached into the pocket, still warm from Eddie's hand. He pulled out what the other had put in. It was a wad of paper. Confused, Steve unrolled it. There he found digits scribbled. Eddie had given him his number.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

"Night, Ed! Night Austin!" Robin called from down the hallway, receiving a couple of grumbled replies. She giggled to herself before she continued her way to her room. She got to the door, pulled out her key and let herself inside. There she found minimal lighting and a mound under the covers of the bed, some strawberry blonde hair peeking out from the top. 

Robin shut the door as she sympathetically sighed. She put the pasta she'd saved for Chrissy, her favourite, on the vanity and quietly made her way over to Chrissy's side of the bed. Robin put a gentle hand on Chrissy's exposed shoulder.

"Chris? You awake?" She mumbled quietly. No response. Chrissy's cheeks were stained with tears and Robin bit her cheek. Why had Chrissy been crying? She wasn't feeling too good, Robin knew, but what had made her cry? She pushed Chrissy's hair behind her ear and stayed there for a moment before returning to the door where she took off her shoes and coat, accidentally knocking Chrissy's coat off of the hanger. It was a quiet sound, but still, Chrissy awoke.

"Robin?" She yawned as she sat up and turned to where the other was standing.

"Y-yeah. Sorry for waking you," Robin's apology was soft as she picked up the smaller coat. She paused for a moment after hanging it back up. "Chris? Were you... Crying?" Robin moved back towards the bed. She was never the best at this type of stuff. She never knew how to help people feel better, oftentimes she felt useless in these situations. But, her best friend was hurting, and she needed to try.

"No! Uh..." Chrissy pulled her knees to her chest before huffing defeatedly. "Yeah,"

"How come?" Robin sat down and shuffled closer to Chrissy, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her into a side hug. "You okay?" Chrissy sniffled and shook her head. "What's wrong?"

"Can't tell you." Chrissy put her forehead to her knees. "You'll hate me." Robin ran her hand along the shorter girl's back.

"I won't hate you, Chris. I could never hate you. I'm your best friend, you can tell me anything." Robin was even more concerned. Throughout the years Robin had known her, she’d never seen Chrissy this way, so full of self depreciation. The only time that had come close was just after her ex-boyfriend, Jason, broke up with her. But even then, she seemed more relieved than upset. Whatever was bugging her had to be serious. Chrissy was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room being the friction of Robin's hand on Chrissy's tank top.

"I think I like girls," Chrissy said. Robin's jaw almost dropped before she went to console her friend.

"Well, Chris, you know I'm a lesbian. Why would you think I’d-"

"I think I like you." Chrissy whimpered.

Oh.

"Chrissy... You're serious? You're not playing with me, right? Because this has happened before where a girl tells me they like me as a joke, or they think they like girls and want to use me as, like, the test to find out if they really do, and then turn around and--"

"I'm serious Rob, I just..." Chrissy let tears roll down her face once again and Robin unconsciously let herself wipe them away. "This is all so new to me and you're my best friend and I don't know how to feel." Robin frowned. She remembered her sexuality crisis in grade eight and how hard it was for her. She felt for Chrissy at this moment. Carefully she turned Chrissy around and pulled her onto her lap, grabbing the hands that covered the latter's face and moving them away. Robin smiled gently as she spoke.

"Hey," She started with. "It'll be okay, Chrissy. Trust me. It's hard for a while, I know." Robin brought Chrissy's head to her shoulder. They were silent for a moment until. "I like you too," Robin whispered. Chrissy gasped and pulled back, staring at Robin with surprise.

"You-- You do?" She gasped, staring up at Robin with big eyes. Robin took Chrissy's face into her hands pulling her in to leave a kiss on her forehead. Chrissy was a light shade of pink and less upset than before.

"I do. I have for a long time." Robin laughs. Chrissy smiles and lays her head back on Robin's shoulder. They stay there for a few minutes before it seems like Chrissy's about to fall asleep. Robin carefully took Chrissy out of her lap and laid her on the bed. "We'll talk about this in the morning, 'kay?" She said softly. Chrissy nodded and Robin smiled fondly. "I'll be right back." She pulled the blankets back over Chrissy's half-conscious body and she left to the bathroom before pulling out her phone.

Me

guess who might have a chance at getting a girlfriend

eddie help me

After a few minutes, Eddie didn't reply. He must be sleeping, Robin thought.

When actually, Eddie was up making a few text messages of his own.

tags:

@marklee-blackmore

[essjujutsu]

CHAPTER Ⅲ: HOMEWORK ANSWERS?

prev , next , masterlist

sukuna has friends?

you thought as you walked towards yuji in the crowded high school parking lot, there were way to many kids who shouldnt be allowed to drive here—god damn.

your first day went pretty well, your teachers seemed nice enough and you even had a class with yuji and nobara! well, and megumi—but he didn't really say anything to you. and you thought you could be grumpy—this guy was like talking to a wall!

you were slightly nervous about going to his house the next day so you made a mental note to investigate yuji or nobara about him later.

"there you are! i just got off the phone with uraume—they'll be here in a couple minutes."

"wait, so who's uraume? i had no idea sukuna had friends...weird."

you reply, putting your hands in your pant pockets to warm yourself up from the crisp fall breeze.

"i know right, that's totally what i thought at first too! but they work together—at that old convenience store down the road. uraume's his boss im pretty sure. but their actually super nice, and they drive me home sometimes!"

you nod in response, opening your mouth to say something else—but then a silver car pulls up in front of the two of you. yuji starts walking to it, beckoning you to follow.

yuji opens the passenger seat door, so you walk to the backseat, opening the door and hopping in.

"hello yuji. this must be yn, correct?"

"uhm, yeah—that's me, nice to meet you."

they nod to your reply as you hop into the tidy backseat of the car. you place your backpack down and put in your headphones to tune out yuji talking in the front seat. you open your phone to see you have a couple new messeges—a new groupchat? huh?

you let out a small laugh from nobara's texting as the car slows down in front of your house. you put your phone away in your pocket and say a quick thank you and goodbye to uraume as you and yuji climb out of the car doors and onto the sidewalk.

"man, im starving!"

yuji says, putting his hands behind his head as the two of you approach the front door. you knock twice—before realizing sukuna must not be home yet.

"i got this!"

yuji says enthusiastically, pulling what seemed to be a necklace out from under his shirt. he dangled it in front of you for a moment so you could see what it was.

oh, the key was on his necklace!

he unlocked the front door—you following behind him into the house.

the two of you decide to start dinner, well yuji decided to start dinner. you sat at the kitchen island as he cooked pasta on the stove.

around an hour later, you heard the door open up—you can't miss the loud creak from the old door.

"yo, sukuna! made dinner—pasta!"

yuji, finishes dishing the spagetti into three bowls, setting them down on the countertop to turn around to greet his uncle. you do the same, spinning around in your chair.

"tch, this better be good. had way to many annyoing 'fuckin costumers today.."

"so, how was your first day kid?"

sukuna asks you, he turns to face you—raising any eyebrow and crossing his arms.

"it was...good."

you reply truthfully, it was pretty decent—and you already made a few friends somehow, even if they're yuji's friends.

you grab the bowl and start eating the pasta, one thing was for sure—your brother could definitely cook.

A/N: this took forver to write omfg 😭 i promise there will actaully be romance soon! i just rlly wanna add lots of family/friend dynamics aswell

TAGLIST: ( ask 2 be added ) @1ndee @4ngelfries @jammofsammichflip @notveevee @qtnfer @love-me-satoru @satoryaa @loriisheart @starrnai @madison777x @madison777x @mdmraz @saltypuffin1040 @ichorstainedskin @1l-ynn if it doesn't work, fix ur settings pls!

[brainsickening]

panels from the tiktok....... whimper whimper sob cry

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [2]- Summer Breeze

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs on the first chapter! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Summer breeze can be enchanting.

Word Count: 3464

Series Masterlist

There were some days that you just knew it wouldn’t be a good day, and today was exactly one of these days.

It wasn’t because it was Monday morning and you had slept through your alarm. It wasn’t because while taking the fastest shower of your life you realized you had run out of body wash.

It was because while driving Theo to school your car had broken down, and though you didn’t know much about mutant schools, you were pretty sure that they cared about punctuality just like any other school.

“Isn’t this fun, bean?” you asked as you walked with Theo’s hand in yours through the gates, pretending you weren’t stressed out at all so that he would have a good day. “It’s like we’re explorers.”

“It is!” he said, looking around the vast of greenery surrounding you. “Professor X says the mansion was built ages and ages ago.”

“Ages and ages ago?” you asked with a gasp, his backpack slung over your shoulder. “Really?”

“Yes! And Ralph says if we tried to explore the grounds, it would take us a week!”

“Who’s Ralph?”

“He’s my friend,” he said. “He can breathe underwater!”

“Wow,” you said. “That’s impressive.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, excitement laced in his voice. “He said he saw so many pretty fish in the lake—mommy, can we get a pet fish? Wait no, can we get two?”

“Um…” you trailed off while you approached the mansion with him, students running around in the yard. “Why two?”

“Because we can’t get just one, he’d get bored without a friend!” Theo insisted as the roar of a motorcycle reached you. “Can we get a really big aquarium? Ralph says fish need huge aquariums.”

“We can’t get a huge aquarium, bean,” you said, crouching down to fix his hair and he pulled his brows together.

“But why not?”

“Because.”

“But why not?”

“Because we have no place to put a big aquarium in,” you said patiently and he pouted.

“I’d keep it in my room!”

“Bean.”

“They’d keep you company when I’m here and you come home from work! You said we couldn’t get a dog, but fish don’t need a yard or anything, just an aquarium!”

“Bean, that’s not…”

“I already have names for them both!” he insisted, making you pull your brows together. “The orange one will be Cheeto, and the white one will be Popcorn.”

“Very creative my love, but—”

“Please!” he said. “Please please please? I’ll take care of them when I’m home, I promise!”

“Theo,” you said. “It’s time for your class. Apologize to your teacher for being late, and tell them the car broke down, okay? They can call me if they—”

“Good morning Mr. Wolverine sir!” Theo smiled at someone behind you and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heartbeat speeding up as soon as you did.

Oh.

Alright, so as it turned out, you weren’t daydreaming last week and he was in fact as hot as you remembered.

The leather jacket he was wearing fit him perfectly, making you gawk at his broad figure for a moment before you remembered to look up at his handsome face, but that seemed to make your heartbeat even faster so you shot him a small smile and averted your gaze from him to Theo quickly.

“Logan is fine, bub,” he told Theo and Theo nodded so eagerly that his glasses slipped down his nose, making you reach out to fix them.

“Okay Mr. Logan sir,” he said. “Mommy, if we get an aquarium—”

“We’ll talk about it later bean,” you said as you slipped his backpack off your shoulder and helped him put his arms through the straps. You straightened your back at the same time he reached back to open the zipper of the backpack, the simple motion making him stumble backwards but Logan had already grabbed him by the backpack with one hand and lifted him up in the air to put him back on his feet, Theo letting out a cheerful “whee!”.

“Thanks,” you murmured and ruffled Theo’s hair. “Straight to the class, come on.”

Theo gave you a bright smile, then hugged your legs before turning around to run through the hallway.

“Theo don’t—” you started but heaved a sigh. “Great.”

You could hear Logan huff out a chuckle and you swallowed thickly, then turned to look at him better, the fluttering in your stomach getting even worse upon seeing his gaze on you.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he said and you took a deep breath, shifting your weight.

“It was—it was nice to see you,” you stammered, taking a step past him but stopped when you heard him say your name. The fact that he had remembered your name wasn’t supposed to make your chest tingle, you were sure of it, but you didn’t even try to stop the tentative smile pulling at your lips.

“Yes?” you asked, blinking up at him and he stared at you, then frowned like he was trying to pull himself together.

“Your car broke down?”

“Um, yeah,” you said, pointing at the yard. “Like a mile down the road.”

“You walked here?”

“Uh huh,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll just go back to the car and call my friend, she knows a guy so I’m like ninety percent sure I can get out of it without having to declare bankruptcy—”

“I can fix it,” he said, motioning at the motorcycle. “Let’s go.”

Your eyes widened and you gawked at him for a moment, then scoffed a nervous laugh and waved a hand in the air.

“Oh no no, there’s no need to…” you trailed off. “Please, I’d hate to be a bother.”

“You’re not,” he said, already walking to the bike and you lingered there for a moment before rushing to catch up with his long strides.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you asked him. “Seriously, if you’re busy or anything, I don’t think—”

“I’m not busy.”

“And your motorcycle looks like a one-person type of motorcycle, I can just walk if you—”

“Are you always this polite, princess?”

Well, that was a sure way to shut you up. Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning for a moment because of how fast adrenaline rush hit you, warmth blooming in your chest.

“…Yeah,” you said after a pause. “Bites me in the ass most of the time.”

The corners of his mouth twitched and he grabbed the only helmet on the back of the motorcycle, then held it out, making you snap out of your thoughts.

“You?” you asked and he shook his head.

“I don’t need it.”

You took the helmet from him to put it on before he got on the bike and started the engine, and almost automatically your hand shot up to your lips but it hit the helmet, making you grimace. You dug your fingernails into your palms before unclenching your hands again, then got on the bike as well, slowly wrapping your arms around his torso. He took a deep breath as if he had just smelled something sweet, then cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that.”

“Oh I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,” you said, and the simple sentence managed to coax a chuckle out of him. He turned his head sideways to look at you out of the corner of his eye, your cheeks burning before he turned his head again and the engine roared before it sped off down the road, the movement making you gasp and hold onto him tighter to make sure you wouldn’t fall down.

Fine, maybe today was a good one after all.

Back in high school -and the first year of college-, you had never understood why people were into motorcycle. If anything, they looked rather uncomfortable, not to mention incredibly dangerous, and if it rained it would rain on them, and it would be cold and wet and just unpleasant but now—

Now, hanging onto Logan as the wind whipped around you, trees wheezing past, you were starting to get the appeal.

Logan stopped the motorcycle when you pointed at your car parked at the side of the road, and you pulled back from him even if you didn’t want to, then got off the bike, taking your helmet off and fixing your hair in a haste.

“I didn’t die,” you announced, making him shoot you an amused glance. “That’s nice.”

“That was the expectation?” he asked as you both made your way to your car and you nodded.

“Kind of?” you said, unlocking the car before Logan lifted the hood up to look inside, then tilted his head.

“Hold on,” he muttered and he started unbuttoning his flannel, making your eyes widen. Your heart climbed up to your throat, a sudden warmth swirling your insides and when he slipped his flannel to reveal his very tight white shirt underneath, you gulped, unable to drag your gaze away from him. He didn’t even need to hear your heartbeat, your flustered state was clear as day and your brain recognized him saying something you didn’t even hear with a couple of seconds delay, making your head snap up.

“Huh?”

A cocky smirk curled his lips and you shifted your weight.

“I was um—I was thinking about something,” you stammered and his smirk widened.

“Uh huh,” he said. “I’m gonna go under the car for a moment.”

Never in your entire life had you wanted to be a car more.

“I don’t know if I have that lifter thing—” you started, trying to pull your thoughts together but before you could even finish your sentence, he had already reached down underneath the bumper and lifted the car a bit to get under, making your jaw drop.

Oh alright, so this was just…

You were just fantasizing about him and this whole thing in general, that was the only explanation you could possibly come up with. Any minute now, your alarm would start blaring and you would wake up and go to work with no sign of a very specific, incredibly hot and strong guy.

Jesus, he looked like that and he could lift a car?

“Um—Logan are you okay down there?” you asked, approaching the car to bend down a little. “Do you need help?”

“Nope,” he said, his voice not even strained as if he wasn’t holding up the car with one hand. “Just checking something.”

“The car isn’t gonna fall on you, right?”

“No, I’m holding it.”

“Yeah because that’s the normal answer to that question,” you said, nodding your head. “Sure. Uh, another question, how do you know you can in fact hold up a car? As in, have you tried this before? Because if you die, not only will I be very sad but also I will go to jail and I don’t think I’d survive there, I watched a lot of shows like that and I like flavored coffee a bit too much, and I also don’t know who’d be taking care of Theo—”

“Relax princess,” he cut off your rambling with a chuckle. “It’s fine.”

You hoped your hormones wouldn’t get the best of you and by the time he got out from under the car, you wouldn’t be checking Pinterest for wedding venues but before you could even grab your phone, you heard a car coming to a stop behind you, making you look over your shoulder. The man inside looked you up and down, making you shift your weight, discomfort hitting you out of nowhere as you clenched and unclenched your fists.

You recognized that look just fine.

“Hey there,” he said with a small grin. “Car problems?”

You plastered a well-practiced polite smile on your face. “Yeah but it’s fine, thank you.”

“Get in, I can drive you to the nearest station.”

“Um no sir, thank you,” you said. “I’m actually handling it.”

“Oh come on now,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m not a bad guy. Just being helpful.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could say anything else, the car groaned as Logan lifted it a little and got out from under it. You didn’t even need to turn your head to know he was glaring at the man, the look of complete fear crossing the man’s face was enough of a clue and you bit back your smile, raising your brows at him while Logan stood at full height behind you, towering over you.

“She said she’s handling it,” he said, his deep growl making your heart do a happy flip and you nodded.

“Thank you though!” you said with the most customer service level of cheerful voice you could muster without bursting into laughter and the man’s eyes went from you to him, and he gulped down.

“Ye—yeah okay,” he said and drove off, making you let out a giggle and turn to look up at Logan.

“I think you scared him off.”

Logan glared at the direction the man drove off as if he was genuinely contemplating whether to go after him or not, then gritted his teeth and glanced down at you.

“You okay?”

“Sure,” you said. “I have a knife in the glove compartment, just in case. Theo isn’t allowed to open it.”

He shook his head slightly, then went to the motorcycle to grab a couple of tools, wiping the motor oil on his hands onto his shirt. You had to physically force yourself to look up at the sky just so that you could stop the sound threatening to spill from your lips, then rubbed at your eyes as he started working on the car. You lingered in your spot for a moment, then opened the car door to climb up to sit on the roof of the car, making him glance at you over the hood.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m keeping you company,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s easier to talk like this.”

He didn’t comment on it, instead returned back to what he was doing and you pressed your lips together, keeping your gaze on him.

“So how’s the crying going?” he asked and you scrunched up your nose.

“It’s going well actually, thank you for asking,” you told him. “I already cried this morning so…”

“Why?”

“There was this cat video,” you said. “It was so adorable. I keep telling Theo he can’t have a pet, I need to remind myself that as well.”

“He wants a fish now?”

“He wants to have a lot of animals,” you told him. “He wants a dog and a cat and now fish. Apparently, his new friend told him there are many pretty ones in the lake, and I’m glad he’s making friends but I’m gonna be so screwed when he finds one who can talk to like, horses or something.”

He scoffed a laugh. “He made friends pretty easily.”

“Oh he could make friends in an empty room.”

“He got that from you or his father?”

“Me,” you said, barely aware of the proud tone in your voice. “He gets everything from me, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” you said, nodding your head. “But I mean, it makes sense when you think about it, considering…”

Logan’s gaze on you was almost too hot. “He’s not around?”

You bit at your thumb, shaking your head. “No.”

Thankfully.

“Um, how about you?” you asked, trying to change the topic. “What do you do when you’re not fixing cars and scaring off creeps? Do you teach at school?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “I work for Charles.”

“As a teacher?”

“Not necessarily.”

You pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin on top of them, your arms wrapping around legs.

“An open book, aren’t you?” you asked, making him chuckle.

“Mm, pretty much.”

“Now why would a mysterious man give such short answers?”

He shot you a mischievous smile. “Probably the same reason why a pretty girl would ask so many questions.”

Your heart skipped a happy beat as you felt your cheeks burn, and you had to resist the urge to bury your face to your knees with a squeal so you bit down on your lip, smiling at him. He held your gaze for a moment, making fire spread through your veins before he nodded at you.

“You mind if I try to start it?”

“Oh go ahead,” you said, and he got into your car, then you heard him slide the driver’s seat back to adjust it to his height. “But I had the mechanic check the car like a month ago, so I don’t really think…”

You stopped talking immediately when you heard the roar of the engine as it came to life and a gasp left your lips.

“Are you serious?” you exclaimed while Logan got out of the car and you slid off the roof to jump to the ground.

“Yeah, the next time it happens, just—” he was cut off when you flung yourself to him to hug him tight.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” you said with a huge smile. “Seriously Logan, you saved my life!”

 A small chuckle escaped from his lips and his arm sneaked around your waist, and if you didn’t know if better, you could’ve sworn he tilted his head down to get closer to your hair and took a deep breath.

“Not a problem,” he said, his deep voice vibrating in his chest and all of a sudden all your senses were filled with him; his warm body against yours, the pleasant scent of leather, smoke and pine in your lungs, his voice in your ears. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster as you forced yourself to pull back, then craned your head up to look at him.

“Sorry!” you said. “Sorry I’m…me and my friend took this test and apparently my love language is physical touch and I’m not very sure about it really because I kind of feel like it’s a scam but also is it though, because I used to have a cat when I was little and um, I refused to put her down, I always carried her everywhere so that I could hug her all the time and weirdly enough she liked it, which you wouldn’t expect from a cat most of the time but—um—” you paused. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he said, his intense gaze pinning you to your spot and you nibbled on your lip, then willed yourself to take a step back, your hand shooting up to your mouth again.

“How—how do I repay you?”

He shot you a reprimanding look. “You don’t.”

“No but seriously,” you insisted. “There has to be something.”

That had sounded more grateful and less like a porn dialogue in your head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Change your mechanic though, seems like the engine hasn’t been checked in a while.”

“Okay,” you said, forcing yourself to lower your hand. “Thank you. Again.”

“My pleasure,” he said with a small smile and you lingered in your spot for a moment, then got in the car, almost falling on your ass since he had slid the seat back to adjust it to his height. You cleared your throat, trying to keep it cool as you slid it forward, and as soon as the brochures on the dashboard caught your eye, you reached out to grab one and looked up at Logan out the open window.

“I found a way to thank you,” you said with a proud smile, your heart was beating in your throat. “I work at this diner, you should drop by. It’ll be on the house, and the pie is amazing.”

A small smirk curled his lips as he eyed the brochure you were holding up.

“You sure about that?” he asked. “If you feed me, I might come back.”

The warmth bloomed underneath your skin as your smile widened.

“Looking forward to it,” you said, raising the brochure just a little and he chuckled, then took the brochure from you.

“Drive safe,” he said, patting the roof of the car and you nodded your head.

“See you around, Logan,” you said before you drove off, checking him out from the rear mirror until you slowed down at the road junction, then turned the car and let out a breath, trying to keep your attention on the road.

“Oh fuck,” you muttered to yourself. “Fuck, he’s too hot.”

[3] - Downpour

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 27 - Block Out the Haters

Hello beautiful people! How I've missed writing and uploading! I'm so sorry for the delay but this chapter and Across Every Universe part 2 had been in creation for a while. But expect a few updates this weekend!

I love you all and thank you for being so appreciating and patient!

Your body felt as though it was on autopilot as you walked through the paddock on Sunday morning. The weekend was kind to you. You completely dominated all the free practices and you’d be starting the race today on pole. 

However, it wasn’t the weekend that was unkind. 

It was them.

And it was all because of him. 

Checo had decided to show up to the paddock at his former home race on Thursday. And like all “good” journalists do, they ask questions that bate people to speak words that can be turned into something they’re not. 

Yet, the Mexican had spoken out with his chest puffed out and words full of confidence. 

“I see my replacement has done well in the car. Too bad that she’ll be replaced soon enough. Like she did to me, someone will take her seat and brag about how great they are, leaving the old driver in the dust. It’s only a matter of time.” 

Ah yes, only a matter of time until Red Bull drops you. The team that you had complete confidence in was not a ticking time bomb in your mind. 

What if you didn’t convert pole into a win? 

What if you accidentally took Max and yourself out of the race like Charles did to Checo in 2023? 

What if the team can finally see how replaceable you were? 

It had happened before…at Prema. 

Number 1 driver to ending a contract early. 

But this time, you were even further down the totem pole than you were at Prema. 

You were a rookie and the second driver. 

Replaceable and forgettable.

Your headphones were on and blasting music to cover up the nasty words thrown at you from the so-called fans. You had thankfully walked in with Max and Charles, who took the liberty to walk on either side of you. You were slouching as you walked, trying to make yourself smaller between the two men. 

At least you understood that Charles and Max knew how you were feeling. Charles, who had been booed at this very race last year. And Max, who seemed to carry boos wherever he walked. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the large crown surrounding the opening to the garage. Checo was in the middle, smiling widely with sunglasses on his face. You froze, not walking any further. The navy and red clad drivers walked a bit before realizing that you weren’t between them anymore. 

Max’s eyes flitted toward the garage and then toward a signature blue. He put his hand on your shoulder and lightly pulled one of the headphone cushions away from your ear. 

His head jerked in the direction of the blue garage. “Why don’t you go hide in Williams for now. I’ll text you when it’s clear. Christian won’t let them get to you.” 

You silently nodded as Max put the headphones back in place before heading in the direction of the safe garage. 

Charles crossed his arms as he watched you walk away. 

“Merde, I wish Arthur was here this weekend.” 

The Monegasque sighed in relief once he saw Logan sling an arm around your shoulders and lead you away toward the back. Alex was following them, parading his limited edition Oscar Piastri paddle. 

Max was silent as he gazed at the amount of journalists in front of the garage. He was internally cringing, knowing that the journalist would attack him as well. 

Charles threw a smile in his direction as he bumped the sullen Dutchman. 

“Do you need to hide in my garage as well? Be babysat Mr. Verstappen?” 

The Ferrari driver wiggled his eyebrows as Max rolled his eyes. However, he shrugged and looked straight into Charles’s green eyes. 

“Lead the way Mr. Leclerc.” 

Charles’s eyes widened for only a moment before grabbing the backpack attached to Max. The brunette gently led the blond away, knowing that his childhood rival didn’t like crowds any more than you did. 

You had found yourself hidden away in Logan’s room, on a facetime with your boyfriend. Logan was sitting next to you, trying to reach a new high score on whatever game he was playing. Oscar had somehow also found himself in the American’s room and was currently looking at Alex’s paddle. 

The Aussie scoffed as he twirled the offending thing. He was silently listening to you borderline cry to Arthur. 

“And then they threw a water bottle at me. And it was one of the metal ones too!” you cried out, hand rubbing your face. 

Arthur offered you a sad frown. 

“What did you do?” 

You sucked in a breath. 

“I caught it and I kept it.” 

The three men suddenly laughed at your confession. You looked around confused. 

“What? It was a nice one!” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Nicer than the one I gave to my brother to give to you.” 

Your eyebrow cocked. “Um no, not Kevin.” 

Logan’s eyes glanced at you as he muttered, “You named your water bottle?” 

You shoved him, making him lose his spot. “You don’t?” 

Oscar suddenly piped up. “That’s a bit childish, don’t you think. And how cliche is it to fall in love with your teammate.” 

That earned him an eyeroll as you threw one of Logan’s pillows at him. He caught it easily. 

“Sorry Os-cah, at least I can act on it. We all can’t secretly be in love with our teammates.” 

A screech erupted from the Aussie’s side of the room. You and Logan giggled as Oscar’s face bloomed red with a deep blush. The pillow came back flying. 

“I am not in love with Lando. And plus, I have a girlfriend.” 

“Sure. Didn’t stop you from almost kissing Arthur that one time.” 

The brunet rolled his eyes. “Number 1, it was through glass. Number 2, he leaned in first.” 

“Excuse me?” you asked into your phone, looking at Arthur through the screen. Said boyfriend stuttered a bit as he tried to come up with an excuse. He only stopped as you spoke again. 

“It’s ok Osc, he has some nice lips.” 

A groan left Logan’s lips as he listened to this conversation. He leaned over and snatched the phone from your hands. 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, poor connection. Call back later.” 

The American pressed the red X as you looked at him in disbelief. Logan quickly deposited your phone back to your lap before picking up his own phone. 

Your mouth was still wide open. 

You were about to reply when there was a knock on the door. Logan huffed as he stood from the couch and walked toward the door. When he opened it, he was met with Christian Horner and a very pouty Max Verstappen. You sheepishly grinned as Christian just silently pointed over his shoulder and turned around, walking away. 

Max stayed at the door, waiting for you as you packed your stuff. You quickly said goodbye to the best friends before following Max back to the Red Bull garage. You noticed his pout on the way. 

“What’s got you so pouty.” 

“I was about to beat Charles at FIFA and then Christian scared me, causing me to misplay and not score.” 

“So Charles won?” 

A huff from the Dutchman let you know that you were correct. 

Thankfully the crowd had died down when you returned. But, to your chagrin, Checo was still there, looking down into your car. Mitch seemed uncomfortable as she stood near, needing to get the last bit of data before talking to you about the strategy. 

You watched as she lightly nudged the Mexican, but was not met with any movement. Your anger rose as he blatantly didn’t move at all. You loudly cleared your throat, making most of the men turn their heads toward your direction, Checo included. 

“I think my strategist needs to be by my car. You wouldn’t mind moving far back to give her some space?” you questioned loudly. 

Perez seemed to get a bit of the message and took multiple steps back. Your jaw clenched as he smirked at you. At that moment, you knew he had done that on purpose. 

You only walked past him, going to your room to get changed. When you walked back out, there was a small interview going on, once again with Checo and now Max. 

The interviewer asked, “So Max, how does it feel to have your old teammate here to watch you win?” 

You could tell that Max wanted to wince at the question, but he let it be. 

Max replied, “Uh, it is nice to see Sergio back in the paddock. It is Mexico after all. But, Y/n is looking very strong and she won Monza from pole. So the team is just going to let us race and I’ll just try to keep up with her.” 

The laugh that the Dutchman let out was obviously forced, but you were thankful for the backing from Max. 

You watched as Checo obnoxiously laughed as he put his hands on Max’s shoulders, shaking the driver just a bit. Max’s shoulders tensed under the hard grip of the ex-driver’s hands. He was thankful that Perez wasn’t doing that to you, or you might have had a bit of PTSD because of it. 

The Mexican began to speak, “Ah Max, always so modest. I bet that he’ll overtake her on the first corner. She might pull a me from last year. Eat some Ferrari tyre and DNF on the first lap. And before you know it, the team is going to drop her. I bet Max would like that. Maybe Daniel will get his rightful seat back.” 

Max jerked away from the hands that gripped his shoulders before speaking, “Y/n happens to be a very safe driver. There might be a bit of fighting between us on the track but that’s just racing. And the seat was never Daniel’s to begin with. It was always her’s. Too bad you couldn’t keep up to keep the seat.” 

If you could see Max’s eyes, you knew that they would be stormy and cold. 

Your eyes wanted to water from the soft words that Max was speaking. He was really defending you to the best of his ability. Your eyes found Christian at the other side and your feet quickly took you toward the father-figure. Yet, you heard a closing statement from Perez that set your nerves ablaze. 

“She won’t get the win. She was lucky in Monza, but that’s all it was. Max DNF-ed, giving her the win. This race will truly show you how talented she truly is.” 

Your shoulders deflated as you tapped Christian’s shoulder, nodding over at the journalist. Christian’s eyes widened as he stalked toward the trio. He had anger in his eyes. 

“I told you, no more journalists or interviews in the garage. The race is about to start,” the Briton stated, voice ice cold. 

The journalist visibly gulped before packing up quickly and walking away. Max took this opportunity to also find his way back to your side. The two of you watched as Christian completely scolded the Mexican. You couldn’t hear it, but whatever your team principal said, it make Checo red with embarrassment. 

Max gave you a shit-eating grin before pulling you into a hug. 

“Thanks for being my best teammate kid. You’ve changed me for the better. Let’s go get you that second win.” 

You pulled away with tears in your eyes as you laughed a bit. 

“You’re just going to let me win? Thee Max Verstappen purposely losing a race to little old me?” 

The Dutchman shook his head. “No, I’m not going to let you win. You’re going to take it from me.” 

Well, Checo was right about only one thing. 

Max did overtake you on the first turn. 

But that was it. 

You didn’t eat Ferrari tyre. 

Your seat was yours to keep. 

And Max was right about everything. 

You made him work for the lead and overtook him on the second to last lap. Your cars fought for all they could give, drivers wanting another taste of victory. 

For Max, it seemed like it had been a while. 

For you, it was like Monza was yesterday. 

And that sweetness from the win. The nickname you earned there from the Italians (who were much nicer). 

Charles Leclerc, the Predestined. 

Max Verstappen, the Inevitable. 

Y/n L/n, the Long Awaited. 

The victory was oh so sweet. Maybe you just really had to learn to block out the haters. It’s what you should have done at the beginning of the weekend. 

But you showed everyone who you were as you stook on the nose of you trusted Red Bull. Fists near your body as you yelled, hunched over. 

Max was right behind you, followed by the familiar Ferrari of Charles Leclerc. The two rivals watched as you pointed at the now booing crowd. They laughed as your motioned that you couldn’t hear them, cupping your hand by your helmet where your ear would have been and shaking your head. You shrugged and jumped off. 

Your hand clasped Max’s hand and then Charles’s. You walked (more like skipped) by your team, being pulled in by the mechanics. 

You took your helmet off quickly and got in line to be interviewed. Thankfully, for once, it was a woman. 

She was smiling widely as she spoke into the microphone. 

“Y/n that was splendid driving you did out there. And congratulations on your second win. I know this win is a little different than Monza, so tell me a bit about your race and how you’re feeling.” 

You smiled as you spoke into the mic that you held. 

“Ah well, this is very different from Monza. It was fun to race against my teammate. Normally, I’m behind him getting a nice tow, but the team really wanted to see us just go at it. Obviously, at the end of the day, Red Bull is what matters, but I had fun with Max. And this win just feel more special because I can tell that not a lot of people wanted me to win.” 

You were huffing by the end of your statement, but the lady was grinning at your answer.

“Well, I will let you go celebrate, but mighty well done!” 

You skipped a bit to the cool down room before heading to the podium. You wanted to follow Charles and Max, but someone led you down to the little lift where your car was waiting. 

You knew that Charles and Max had already walked out when the lift slowly started to rise. On your head was the biggest sombrero you had ever seen. You climbed up on the nose of your car and sat cross-legged as you slowly rose. Once it stopped, you took your place at the top step and put your hands behind your back. 

Jokingly, you took the hat off and placed it on Max’s head. He only rolled his eyes (but kept it on for your amusement). 

People tried to yell and boo during your anthem, but you honestly couldn’t hear them over your own heartbeat. It was nice to see a certain disgruntled Mexican down below, arms crossed as he looked everywhere but up. 

You smirked as you showered champagne onto Max and Charles, with you getting sprayed in return. 

Fuck them haters – honestly. 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing rookie got a second win and max got a hat! time for a siesta!

due to strong storms and flooding, the Sao Palo Grand Prix is canceled and will not be rescheduled

liked by y/n.nation, formulala_delulu, arthur_leclerc, and 534,209 others

rookie_freshmanyear OH YEAH - THAT'S MY DRIVER

max&co max got the hat back

y/n&max4ever she truly is the best teammate max has ever had

y/n_on_top true, what checo said was horribly wrong

maxverstappen1 ok you're done - no more wins

y/n.89 booooo charles_leclerc certified every other racer hater landonorris tomatoes tomatoes tomatoes oscarpiastri you all can speak for yourselves :(

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[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

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[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 7 part 1/2

Masterpost

“I see,” said Alfie, hands full of breakfast dishes. “When can I expect you to return home, Miss Cassandra?” Calm. Composed. She followed at his back with the empty water and juice pitchers.

She hummed, doing math in her head. 90 minutes on a fast bike, unknown time there, 90 minutes back. “Dinner?” Cass guessed. “Will message again at 3 with updated estimate.” She put the pitchers down beside the sink silently.

Alfie gave a brisk nod at that sensible plan. Approval. “Very well, Miss. Please drive carefully.” He paused. “And do not forget hydration and your sunscreen.”

“Love you too,” she said, and went to put on the sunscreen. Then she was a whirlwind to get ready. Athletic undersuit, first. Pullover mask in the back, a long hood design that hooked back in on itself. Convenient! Gloves in black jeans pockets. Ankle boots, good for kicking and for driving. 

Cass put her flying suit in her student backpack and put her hands on her hips. She looked around. Room? Clean enough. Equipment? Packed. Reasonable projection of needs? Cass crinkled up her brow and made her best judgment. Probably minimal. Combat not expected, companion powerful. 

“Jacket,” Cass muttered to herself, sudden realization! She darted across the house to get it. The green jacket was important. It was a talisman. It was representative. It was a civilian flying suit that reminded her she was powerful and beautiful. 

When she had it on, she went back for her student back bag and then left from the upper level garage. Black bike, nondescript. Mid range price. 

Cass paused astride the bike, feet firmly planted on either side on the crunchy white gravel of their long driveway. She unzipped the front left pocket and withdrew her phone. To Marvel, she said,

🦇 🏍️ ⬆️ == 1.5 h ⌚ 

Then she opened a new message to Batdad. She didn’t want him to worry. So she said,

💕 👋🏼  🏍️ 

The last person to get a message was Stephanie, who was not flying because she was still in medical schooling. Cass sent,

Just because it was funny. It would make Stephanie laugh.

Then she was off.

Cass pulled her black bat hood down when she found the right area. It was day. Many stares that she loftily ignored. The meeting spot wasn’t Gotham or Fawcett. The laughing magician was in dingy small town, smoking and drinking. Captain Marvel found him first and hauled him out, friendly arm over shoulder. Cass crouched on the roof of nextdoor building to silently peer down, batting a little for the comfort factor of bat things. He was still big-man Marvel-lie, but with new clothes. Happy face with torn jeans and t-shirt. She squinted. Same Marvel shoes. Hmm. No budget, Cass decided. If any budget, better shoes.

Constantine blinked up at Captain Marvel, dazed from alcohol but interested in big handsome man. “Where are you taking me, prettyboy?” He slurred. He was a mess. He reached up and cupped Marvel’s face.

Cass moved. 

Constantine noticed her rapid approach and stumbled upright. Eyes sharp, intelligent. Then: dismay. “Fuck,” he said. Very unhappy. Genuine dislike. “A bat. Which one are you?” Disdain. 

Cass frowned. “Hands off,” she demanded. She crossed her arms. “He’s baby.”

“What?” Marvel said, sounding distressed. Ah. He didn’t know that she knew.

“Really?” Constantine said, wrinkling his face up and looking between her and Marvel pointedly. Because he was a foolish little man who didn’t understand facts that walked into his life. “A nightmare like you pulled this bloke? Fuck my life.”

Yes. A nightmare. Your nightmare.

Cass stretched her mask mouth wider so the teeth would stretch and pull even bigger. She leered at him with all her scariness. He looked like he wished she would leave. Wondered if he made good decision. Regret. Regret. I run my big damn mouth.

“Hey!” Marvel rallied, totally missing the body language interplay. “She’s not a nightmare! Black Bat is very kind and smart.” He put his hands on his hips, which happily meant he had to stop supporting middle-aged wizard weight.

Constantine said some curses under his voice that she didn’t know. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. The rattling from inside told Cass: three cigarettes. No metal, no secret hidden weapon unless it closely resembled cigarette shape. Maintain wariness. He lit it on fire with his fingers.

What? No lighter? Cass saw no lighter.

While Cass was busy frowning about that the wizard turned on his heel. “Toodles,” he said, and then Marvel grabbed him. 

“Wait! We need your professional help.”

“Do I look like I’m working?” Grungy wizard demanded. He waved a hand up and down his body, showing off his sleeveless tank top and tight pants. 

“Yes.” Black Bat took a couple steps closer. She knew this. “You were working. You’re not so intoxicated. You were running a scam for funding. You need money?” She kept anything out of her tone that could sound like judgment, leaving it cold and empty. No-nonsense. “I pay for consultation.”

Grungy wizard paused, looking her up and down. He took a drag on his cigarette. Stinky wizard. He blew it out at Marvel, RUDE wizard. “Really?” He was dubious. “Where’s the catch?” Stinky wizard scrunkled his face at her. “Usually it’s all ‘you owe it to the world, it’s for the good of humanity, don’t you have any decency?” with you people.

Cass rolled her eyes. “Can we cut the-” her eyes darted to Marvel. “Bullshit?” she finished, because it was the right word even if there were little ears present. “One thousand dollars American.”

Captain Marvel looked at her, eyes wide. Shocked. Envy. Small.

Oh. She hid her sudden bad feeling. 

“...Make it one and a half thousand, Bird, that’s a love,” oozed the Stinky Wizardman. He didn’t expect, but-

“Fine.” Cass said briskly. She didn’t want to spend a lot of time on money. She pulled out her wallet and withdrew one hundred dollar bills until she had 15. The Wizard cursed jealousy and ran a hand through his hair. Marvel was fascinated. Hmm. She held it out.

The wizard wanted it. He looked. He really wanted it. But: wary. No trust. Can’t trust a bat.

She let out a disgusted sigh. Black Bat shook the bills at him impatiently. “My Black Bat fund,” she said, in a tone that meant ‘do you have a brain that thinks thoughts?’ She continued, “For my use in-suit. Obviously real money. Obviously non-consecutive legal tender.” Duh.

“Okie Dokie!” Marvel said cheerfully. “We’re back on track.”

The wizard snatched it and stuffed it in his back pocket, hungry dog, don’t take it from me, I need it. “Let’s not talk here. I have a hotel room.” 

‘Did the stinkyman invite Marvel-baby to his hotel?’

Cass cut the wizard a death look.

He coughed and avoided looking at her. 

That was a yes. “You’re a bad judge of people,” she told the wizard, voice full of disdain. “Yes. Let’s go.” She pointedly moved in between him and Marvel-baby. 

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 5

I have no restraint. I have NO restraint. I HAVE NO RESTRAINT!!! So guess who starting writing a SEQUEL to this because she was feeling too sad to write Sweet Home Indiana? Yup! I would apologize, but this story is too cute for words.

We have a mild panic attack about the ending of the chapter from Steve, Eddie's plan, and Steve accepting an offer that made mostly in jest, but also in deep earnest.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!!!

But if the people on my list that haven't interacted on my stuff lately don't reply by Sunday slots may open up. So don't despair just yet if you want to be on the list and can't.

****

Steve banged his head on his locker in frustration. Why did he do that? Why did he tell Eddie he was interested in boys, too? Why did he trust the other boy to have his back? Especially when no one else seemed to.

He sighed.

He wrenched open his locker and a little pink heart fluttered to the floor. He frowned as he picked it up.

They weren’t going to hand out the hearts until Valentine’s Day so what was this then?

-Stevie

I like the way you’re kind even when it doesn’t benefit you.

Kas

Steve blinked down at the little heart in confusion. It wasn’t the exactly the same color as the hearts they were going to give out for the holiday. But it was close. He rubbed his thumb over the sender’s name.

Kas.

He knew it wasn’t a real name, having recently poured over the yearbook. So it had to be a reference to something, but what he didn’t know. He stuck it in his jacket pocket and grabbed what he needed for his next class, vowing to worry about it later.

As he sat in his chemistry class waiting for it to start he pulled it out of his pocket to look at it again. The pen was red ink and bold. Steve found himself smiling at the strange little pink heart.

Suddenly it was ripped out of his hand.

His head snapped up to see Tommy H. standing there with it in his hand. “Someone is sending Harrington Valentine’s hearts?”

“Give it back, Tommy,” Steve growled. “It’s none of your business. Not anymore.”

Tommy looked him in the eye before tossing it to the ground and walking off. “Whatever.”

Steve bent over to pick it up.

“Some girl named Kassy or whatever,” Tommy was telling Nicole. “Could be anyone from the younger grades.”

“I suppose so,” she said, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “But anyone with sense would know he’s the plague now.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Just because he refuses to suck either of you two off doesn’t mean he’s still not the hottest guy in school.”

Tommy rounded on her and called her a bitch.

She just scoffed and swung back around just as the teacher walked into the room. The tardy bell rang and he called the class to order, effectively squashing all gossip.

Steve ducked his head to hide his smile. He might feel a bit bitter that it was her party that Nancy threw their relationship in his face at, but it wasn’t her fault his girlfriend had gotten so pissed drunk that she lost her ironclad control. And right now he was feeling especially grateful to her for that comment.

He managed to get through his class just from riding that high alone.

His last class was algebra and it really should have been made illegal by now. The way the numbers and letters seemed to float off of the page as he struggled to parse their meaning. He just had to pass one quarter of this shit and he could graduate.

So he put his head down to learn and just suffer through it.

After school, he got to his locker and knelt down to open it.

Again a pink heart fluttered out of it. But this time it had a couple of friends. Steve stuck them in his jacket pocket again and exchanged books. He grabbed his English and history homework so that he could get them done for tomorrow.

He opened the back door of his car and threw in his backpack. He went to open his door when Eddie was suddenly at his side.

He leaned up against the door, preventing Steve from opening it.

“So the king swings for both teams?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve looked around, but they were alone for the most part, so he just shrugged. “Some guys are hot and for some reason I can’t fathom, I trust you not have it all over the school by lunch tomorrow.”

Eddie chuckled and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“Yeah and why would that be?” Steve asked turning around and sticking his hands in his front pockets.

“That would be because it would be hypocritical of me to go spreading around the school someone likes guys,” he said, bumping their shoulders together.

Steve looked at him for a long time before he nodded. “You know by now I don’t put much stock into rumors. I did that once and got my shit rocked for it. Lesson learned, man.”

“I heard about the infamous Byers left hook,” Eddie agreed. “That was some pretty major shit rocking.”

The jock rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was my first concussion.”

The older boy looked up at the sky as he thought about it and then nodded. “Billy Hargrove would be round two, I’m assuming?”

Steve nodded and then threw his head back. “This year has gone from bad to worse and I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. It really has seemed like Steve couldn’t catch a break. “I feel that. I’m really struggling this year. Last year I didn’t graduate because I so focused on getting out of here, making it with my music that I forgot the promise I made to my mom that I would. Graduate I mean. But this year is just hell.”

“That sucks, Eds,” he agreed.

“You think you’re going to graduate?”

“God, I hope so,” Steve murmured, collapsing against the side of his car. “I just want to get out of this town.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “Where would you even go, man?”

“I’d pick a direction and just drive for as long as I could,” he admitted softly. “I just need to be as far away from this place as I can.”

The metalhead nodded. “If we both graduate we should hop into my van and just run for the coast.”

Steve smiled fondly. “I think I’d like that.”

Eddie pushed himself off the car and then waved Steve goodbye.

The younger boy got into his car with a sigh of relief. Not only did Eddie promise not to out him, he came out to Steve, too. Now it was mutually assured destruction.

Steve smiled and started the car for home. Maybe this year was starting to get a little better.

****

Eddie shoved his hands in his back pockets as he made his way to his van. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask Steve to runaway with him or what possessed Steve to agree but it left a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He hauled himself into the van and sat there for a moment just thinking about it. Of course that meant graduating himself, so he would have to focus on that. His van roared to life and he drove off.

It took him a couple of tries but he finally found the construction paper he needed. He had even found some black construction paper that he was going to use to make little paper bats to tape on the inside of his locker to make it less miserable.

Especially as he was told he couldn’t have his metal band posters up in there. They were too “evil” and “Satanic” and he should be more “Christ like” as if they were epitome of Christian virtue with all the hate they had for anyone not like them.

But Eddie got down to work and started making as many pink hearts as he could. He had thought briefly about adding a couple of red hearts in the mix, but he thought that was a step too far. He didn’t want to get Steve’s hopes up that he had multiple crushes on him if that wasn’t true.

He still planned on giving Steve his one red heart that he had bought. That wasn’t in question. He had already filled it out and returned it to the great big baskets that had been in the main hall.

It simply read:

Stevie,

You make being in this town worth living in,

Love,

Kas

He let out a slow shuddering breath. That was one of the scariest things he had to do since choosing to live with an uncle he had only met twice his entire life over being in the system. He knew his life was infinitely greater being with Uncle Wayne and he hoped this would yield a similar result.

Because he had made a promise and with all signs pointing toward Steve at least being receptive to a date, he had to shoot his shot and hope for the best.

He had made roughly fifty or so of the pink hearts and set about dividing them into four piles. With Jeff, Gareth, and Brian offering to help with the friendship hearts he wanted to make sure everyone got a few of them. Plus it made it easier to come up with things. Because even if they came up with similar ideas, they at least would be phrased slightly different so Steve wouldn’t figure it out.

He also had the idea of using pseudonyms so that it wasn’t all anonymous and initials, though there would some of those too.

But it was time for band practice, so he gathered up his things and the hearts and trotted off to his van, a wave and goodbye to Wayne on his way out.

****

Steve finally opened the other three hearts. Two were anonymous but the third surprisingly was from Tina.

It read it in the tiniest print that was still legible:

Steve,

I know we’re supposed to turn these in or whatever,

But I just wanted to say you’re still A-OK in my book.

-Tina

He blushed. That was nice of her and after she stuck up for him in chemistry, he was feeling a little better about himself.

The other two were just as sweet if a tad unusual in their delivery. The first one said:

Steve,

I’m sorry you lost your crown,

you kept the bullies from being their worst selves.

And the other read:

Steve,

You are a good dude.

Sorry people are shit right now.

Steve shook his head. They were well-tended, he had no doubt but they were odd. Like they were trying to find something nice to say and didn’t know how to word it.

Which, fair.

He knew he had a hard time coming up with complements for the twenty girls he’d picked out for his little project. He had to make sure the message wasn’t creepy or would come across as stalker-y.

He smiled down at the messages. He pulled out a little notebook that he had used to collect all the little things that the kids had given him over the past couple years and put the hearts on their own little page. He carefully put the book back, hidden between two textbooks from his freshman year.

“Steven!” his mom called. “We’re home!”

“Coming, Mom!” he cried, hurrying down the stairs.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: Closed

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[fictionalgap]

Roommate: Too Whipped (chapter 3)

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: You can't get Hazel out of your head.

Warning: 18+ Themes

Warning: +18 themes, swearing, sexual themes

Other Chapters: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

Song Recommendation: I Want To Be With You - Chloe Moriondo

You had two classes today and you had a four hours break. Your only option was library. Hazel had swimming practice during your break. It was one hour. Unfortunately swimming team was always going to gym before the classes so It's three hours If you count the shower and etc. You knew PJ and Josie had classes during that time. Your classmates didn't take the class you had earlier so they usually don't show up before evening class starts.

You went to your favorite spot in the library, at the corner and next to the window where you recently had the knowledge that Hazel can see you from there. You didn't felt like studying so you picked up a book you've been wanting to read for a long time.

You didn't know how much time has passed until you felt someone tap on your shoulder.

You turned around to see Hazel, whose smile met her eyes.

"Hey." your bored mood vanished.

"Hi." She said as she sat on the chair next to you.

"What are you reading? " she whispered.

You showed her the cover of the book you've been reading.

"I didn't feel like studying. Wait- " You checked your watch.

"Aren't you supposed to be at practice? " you asked as you raised a brow.

"Someone suggested we separate gym and swimming hours. We only had swimming practice today.

" Oh... Is that good? "

"Yeah. It was pretty tiring to swim after gym."

"Oh than it's great." You nodded to her and smiled genuinely.

"Yeah." she smiled sweetly at you.

"And, and also we can study together, because I will be leaving early and-, I mean If that's what you want and If you don't have anyone to, to,to hang out and maybe-"

"Yeah, I'd love to, Hazel. Studying, hangout or whatever. "

"Yeah...okay. " you could see that she was nervous.

You squeezed her arm lightly with a soft smile to make her less nervous.

She looked relieved and stared in your eyes for a while.

"Yeah so, what do you want to do now? " you cleared your throat and pulled your hand from her arm.

"I don't know. What do you want to do? "

"Did you study earlier? "

"Nah. I mean a little but I think there are some things I need to look... "

"Cool. Okay I can review my notes too. Maybe for a while then we can go for a walk around campus. I have a class later. Or, or you can stay here and keep studying since it's hard to study at home." you pouted, remembering your evening class.

You hated evening classes. You were too tired to get anything in your head.

"That's alright... Maybe we can study now and then go for a walk. Later, you go to your class and I'll study here and maybe we'll go home together."

You blinked a few times.

"Yeah, I mean, If that's what you want. " you put a soft smile on your face.

"Yeah... " She said and opened her backpack and took a notebook out.

You took your book out of your backpack and started studying as Hazel did.

~~~

You went out of your class with your classmates, tired. You were all talking about the upcoming group project. You saw Hazel at the corner, waiting for you. You couldn't help but blush when see her there waiting, only for you. You said goodbye to your classmates and walked to her.

"Hey."

"Hey. You look overwhelmed."

"I am overwhelmed. It's an evening class and our professor gave us a group project. We have to speak in front of whole class. Who wants to speak in front of whole class."

"Wow... that's overwhelming."

"I know...and that's not the worst part!"

"What's the worst part? "

"I blush so much when I speak in front of a crowd. My cheeks look like tomatoes."

Hazel chuckled to your reply.

"What? It's not funny. I am going to look like a loser. "

"First, I personally love it when you blush. You look so cute. Second, you can't look like a loser cause you are not one."

Hazel called you cute. Hazel called you cute. Hazel called you cute. Hazel called you cute. Hazel call-

"You only say that cause you are my friend. "

"Best friend and no, I don't. It's my honest idea but I think, If that's the part you are afraid of, you know, the speaking in front of whole class part, you can practice with me and maybe that'll help with your fear and blushing."

'How could someone be so fucking nice?' you thought.

Only Hazel. She was so sweet, kind, caring, adorable and cute. She was like a marshmallow sweet, fluff, soft and yummy. You wanted to know what she taste like down th-

"Y/N? " she blinked at you.

"Hazel?" you started at her, confused.

"You kinda froze for minute. Are you okay? " she asked, worried.

'Fuck.' you cursed to yourself.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just tired. Just want to go home that's all. " you tried to hide your blush with your folder.

"Okay." She said and you knew she was smiling from her tone of voice.

'Dammit. Did she think I thought of her?' You groaned mentally.

~~~

You went home to see PJ and Josie laying on the couch while watching a movie.

"And now you came home together, huh. Since both of you are the commitment type, I hear wedding bells. " She raised her brow, smirking.

"Josie, push a pillow on her face till she can't breathe for me, will you? "

"My pleasure. " Josie said cheerfully.

Next thing you now there was a serious pillow fight in your living room. It wasn't like cute sleepover pillow fight. It was kind of a eat shit kind of a pillow fight. Concussion is included kinda pillow fight.

You went straight to your room and changed into pajamas. Then you joined the pillow fight too. Then Hazel joined too.

After a while, you were pretty tired from fighting. Others seemed pretty tired too.

"Should we like... order pizza? " Hazel asked.

"Yes! "you three shouted.

You ate your pizzas and watched another movie. Eventually, you all went to bed.

You saw Hazel in your dream. You were in your living room and you felt her kiss you, her hands on your both cheeks. You even felt the cold metal of her rings. When she pulled she beamed at you. Then PJ came out of nowhere and clashing both pans in her hands with an annoying smile. Hazel vanished.

"What the fuck!"

"We are celebrating!"

"Celebrating what?"

"The fact that you're gonna make a fool of yourself in front of whole class! " she said and then started to laugh maniacally. Just like the villan in stories.

Then Josie came who was wearing a suit and sunglasses like in the movie 'Men In Black' and pulled a small box out of her denim's pocket and squeezed her into the box.

"Sorry for her. I try to keep her in the place but she gets out of my hands from time to time."

You couldn't say anything.

"Anyways, bye." She left just like that.

She didn't even use the machine to make you forget for seeing them...

"Okay... That's not weird at all."

"What's weird is... that you still don't go down on me, Y/N..." Hazel's voice came from behind.

You turned back to see Hazel standing, lust filled in her eyes.

'Fuck.' you thought.

'Yes. We should definitely do that. Fucking. ' She was smiling mischievously.

You froze to what she said. You only thought that.

"The thing about dreams Y/N..." She slowly make the gap between you smaller. You could feel your heart in your ears. "They are part of your thoughts so they know your other thoughts too and I know you want me." She took your hand and put it on her vagina and suddenly she was naked.

Oh my god. You never saw her naked. It was your mind's doing. You were touching her naked vagina while she was naked in front of you. Naked.

You gulped nervously.

"If you want to go down on me, go down on me Y/N. It's all yours. " she said and left you there only to lay down on the couch of the living room. She opened her legs as she was waiting for you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You felt her eyes on you as you got closer to her. Her chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. You sat between her legs. You were about to look at her vagina, of course the dream fucking had to end here.

You were having a sex dream about going down on Hazel and It had to end here.

Well, at least she kissed you. Even If it's in a dream...

You got up from your bed, feeling horny but you didn't want to masturbate. You felt frustrated that you couldn't just have sex with the gorgeous woman just a couple steps away from you. Masturbating while thinking of her, would make you feel hopeless and lonely.

You got up from your bed, got dressed and made your bed. You took your phone with you and walked to the kitchen. You decided to make some chocolate chip cookies.

Cause why not? Right?

You tried to do the recipe you know like the back of your hand as quiet as you can be, to not wake up your roommates.

You put them in the oven and then cleaned all of the stuff. When there was nothing left to do, you sat down next to the oven, watching cookies.

You liked to watch whatever you made transform in the oven. It was just so satisfying to see them how they change.

You saw Hazel with pjs coming to your direction. She kneeled on the floor next to oven, facing you.

"Cookies? This late?" she raised her brow with a side smile.

'You're the reason.' you wanted to say.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Oh... " She bit her lower lip.

You pulled your knees to your chest. Your back was facing the kitchen drawers.

"What about you?" You tilted your head to the side.

" I just woke up and smelled something amazing so, here I am." she smiled cheekily.

You grinned. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

She pouted to your answer.

"Are you saying you are not going to let me eat cookies?"

She looked at you with puppy eyes.

"Stop making that face... " you whisper-shouted.

"Or what?" she asked playfully.

This version of Hazel was one that got out of her sometimes. It was cocky and confident. You didn't see her showing this side of her to the others. Maybe the ones you don't know did know her this side. Maybe It was just for you.

It burned down there to know It was only for you.

You couldn't believe you were horny again. Just when you thought you could get rid off the feeling...

You couldn't answer to her question. Instead you looked at the oven and saw the cookies were about to burn If you wait another five minutes.

"Ow... " You stopped the oven and got up to take kitchen clothes for both of your hands to get the tray out of the oven without burning your hands.

"Can I help? " Hazel asked even though she knew the answer.

"I got it. " you said sweetly at her.

You put them on the counter and inhaled the magical smell.

"Can I have one? " Hazel stood next to you, her eyes wide and excited. Your arms were touching each other.

"It needs to cool down a little bit Hazel... then you can have as many as you'd like."

She grinned while looking at the cookies.

'Cookie Monster... ' you thought of her and smiled.

She was just so fucking adorable...You knew you would fight with everyone for her. Didn't matter If you got hurt or end up dead. You would do it for her. Knowing that she will keep smiling like that.

You took a cookie and broke it in half.

"Do we have milk? " you asked her.

Her eyes got wider at your question. " I think we do." she went to the fridge quickly and came back with milk box in her hand.

You took two glasses and placed them on the counter. She opened the milk and looked at you as she was asking what to do. You nodded and she poured down the white liquid.

You took the two halves of the cookie and dipped it in the milk and before you could put one in Hazel's mouth and she instinctively opened it wide for you. You were shocked how eager she was for cookie. You wondered If she could ever be eager for other things...

You ate the other half of the cookie. It was delicious. Also, cold milk made it eatable.

"Hmmm... I could eat this everyday. They are so delicious." she moaned while eating the cookie.

You wanted to kiss her cookie flavored mouth so bad right now. And cookie flavored other things...

Your head was filling with more dirty thoughts. As It wasn't dirty enough.

"It's not healthy to eat this every day but thank you. " you grinned quietly.

You wanted her. You wanted her lips. Her eyes on you. Her hands on you. Her breath on you. Her smell on you. Her voice in your ears. You wanted her to devour you. You wanted her to love you more than a friend. It was getting harder everyday. It hurt. It hurt wanting but not getting anything. Not knowing If she ever sees you in that way. Not knowing If she will ever love you in that way. More than a friend. You were longing for her love. She was giving it to you in most intimate ways that a friend ever can but you were greedy. You wanted more. More of her.

A wave of sadness came through and you didn't know you were crying until you saw Hazel's worried face and felt her hands on your arms.

"Y/N? What- what's wrong?"

"Hazel... " you managed to get out but you were sobbing and you hugged her without asking and of course she hugged you back tightly as you could fly away from her grasp.

"It's okay Y/N. Whatever it is, It's okay. We can figure out together, okay. Is-Is it t-the project, hm?" she tried to soothe you but you couldn't tell her. What If she didn't like you? What If she hated you after you confessed? Or what If she avoided you? What If she couldn't have feelings for you ever?

"You can talk to me Y/N. I-I don't want to pressure you but It seems like, whatever this is, makes you really upset and-and I want you to be okay."

You looked at her with teary eyes.

" What If I can't talk to you about it? "

"Well, uhm what about a professional? Maybe a psychologi-"

You couldn't stand this anymore. It felt too bad. Like life or death. It was now or never for you.

And you did it.

You kissed her cookie flavored mouth.

She stood there frozen for a minute, her hands in the air with an unreadable expression.

Your eyes began to tear up again and you looked down at your feet but you felt your chin being lifted up and a pair of hands covering your cheeks. Warm hands and cold rings, just like you imagined. Lastly, you felt her lips on your lips. Soft, sweet, plush and heavenly.

Her lips were everything at that moment.

You wanted more and craved more, immediately.

You tried to slide your tounge into her mouth and you felt her smile at what you were trying to do. She opened it for you eventually then you wasted no time to explore inside of her pretty mouth. There was no one trying to dominate the other. Just simply exploring and enjoying the feeling of tounges meeting each other.

Swirling, tasting and feeling.

Simply saying hi to each other.

[the-kr8tor]

Pin my Heart

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Sexual innuendos, FLUFF.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Shielding yourself from the harsh rain with your windbreaker, you bravely wade through it, with one objective - convince Hobie to be your partner and model for your final project. The entire day you've been thinking if he still owes you a favour that you can maybe cash in, and you've got the perfect one. You think at least, You never know with Hobie really. You'd think after more than ten years of being friends, you can get a read on him, but alas he's quite unpredictable, maybe that's why you like him so much, he still has a few surprises up his leather sleeves even after years of friendship.

The loud music coming from Hobie's and his roommates' garage acts as a beacon for you to follow through the downpour.

Entering the band's domain, you wave at them since they wouldn't even hear your greeting with the loud music they're playing. You watch Hobie do his guitar solo as you wrangle your wet windbreaker off you, used to the loud music, you watch his long fingers expertly play with the guitar. You catch yourself staring, so you turn around to hang your soaking windbreaker on an empty shelf, using this excuse to hide your flustered state.

Hobie finishes his solo and you turn back around, avoiding the knowing stares from his bandmates.

"There's our number one fan!" Hobie screams, his ears still ringing from the loud guitar riffs, adrenaline still rushing through him.

"Hey, everyone" you awkwardly greet.

"Hi, shy girl!" Hobie gives you a hug, knowing he's all sweaty from rocking out.

You try to avoid his hug by putting your arms towards him, "Hobie! You're all sweaty! Stop!"

"Look who's talking! You're also wet!"

"Yeah! from the rain, not sweat, asshole!" You try to push him off, but he's too strong, damn him and his strong arms.

He hugs you fully, putting all his weight on you, chin on top of your shoulder, his breath tickles the shell of your ear. "How's your day?" The ringing in his ears finally stops, and he can finally talk without screaming at you.

"It would've been good, if I didn't get Hobie sweat all over me" you huff, leaning away so that Hobie couldn't hear your heart beat quickening.

"Don't act like you don't like it, sweets" he winks at you, releasing you from his grip, but he keeps his hands on your shoulders, you're an arms length away from him. He stares at you, head tilted to the side.

Yuri, their new drummer pipes up, she clears her throat, getting both your attention from eachother. "I'm making Tea, y/n you want some?"

"Yes please, thanks Yuri" You smile at the raven haired sweetly.

They all pile out of the garage, as Hobie manually closes the gate. He reaches up to grab the handle to pull it down, his shirt rides up, you ogle at the exposed skin on his hip. For the second time that day you look away immediately, finding the discarded drum kit more interesting than Hobie's toned back.

The loud crash of the gate closing signals you to look back at Hobie. A chill runs through your body, you wrap your arms around your shivering form.

"Shit, you're gonna catch a cold, let's get you warm, yeah?" Hobie rubs your arms. He grabs your backpack from the floor, and then slings his precious guitar on his back. Hobie leads you inside the house.

The house seems to be much cleaner than the last time you visited, probably thanks to Yuri. The warm aromatic smell of the tea hits you like a truck, you sneeze at the sudden change of smell, or it might just be from the rain soaking you.

"Bless you!" Ned, the band's bassist, yells from the living room.

"Thanks Ned" You sniff.

"C'mon, let's get you dry, don't want you getting sick on me now" Hobie hugs your shoulder with his free arm.

"That was one time, Hobart" you glare at him. He snickers at your comment.

You two stand in front of his door covered in various punk band stickers. He leads you in by your shoulders, and sits you down on the bed.

"I like the new song" you say as Hobie plugs in the portable heater, then places it in front of your shivering form.

"Thanks, we've been working on it for a while" he grabs a towel from his drawer, while rummaging through it for a clean shirt, he tosses the towel on your head.

"Is this even clean?" You get a whiff of soap from the towel, answering your question.

"I'm not a barbarian" Hobie takes off his shirt, before you could ogle at him once more, instead you watch the light on the heater flicker. It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless, so why are you feeling so flustered right now? "What do you wanna do today? Can't go out though 'cause of the rain"

"Can I ask you for a favour?" You try to be blunt, so you could get it over with, wrapping yourself in the towel.

Hobie leans against the door, hands on his hips, he's now wearing a grunge long sleeved shirt that's too big on his shoulders, you see a peek of his skin from the various tears of the shirt.

"Ah, already cashing in the favour I asked you last night?" He raises his pierced brow.

"Yeahh? It's - I need your help" You look at Hobie, determination in your eyes.

"Are you in some kind of trouble? Knew you had it in you" he smirks.

"No, it's not that, I need your help for my final project"

Hobie remembers the tea waiting for you, "hold that thought" he leaves the room, you try to call him back in, but he continues towards the kitchen, you huff but you still follow closely behind. There goes the privacy of convincing him.

Yuri, Ned and their other band mate, James stop their conversation in the kitchen when they see you both walk in.

"Alright, what kind of project?" He questions your intentions, while preparing your tea, your preferred mixture practically ingrained in his mind.

You swallow your nerves, "It's nothing too big really, I - no, we need to create a look that encompasses us both, and for you to model it in front of my class?" The end of your sentence unintentionally sounded like a question.

Hobie stops from pouring milk on your tea, you can't see the growing smirk on his face. You snuggle the towel closer to you. His housemates sip their tea simultaneously.

Hobie stirs your drink wordlessly. He composes himself, turns back towards you, still stirring your drink dramatically. He looks like a Bond villain who can't wait to tell you his master plan.

"What's in it for me?" There it is. He sips your drink loudly, knowing that he's annoying you with the sound.

He doesn't even like milk in his tea, you thought, you bite your tongue from saying it out loud, you need to sweeten him up, so you try playing the nice card.

"What do you want?" Saying it through gritted teeth, trying to give him your best smile, you probably look like you're in pain though.

"Hmm, let me think" he taps the teaspoon against the mug, it clinks against the ceramic, he then brings it to his mouth with a loud slurp, releasing it with a pop. He's doing this on purpose, you cringe at the sound.

"How about I do your laundry for a month?" You negotiate.

"Nah, I can do my own laundry"

"I'll wash your motorbike every month for the rest of the year" you counter.

"Y'know I never let anyone else touch my baby"

His band mates' heads move from Hobie back to you, like they're watching a tennis match.

"Ok, um I'll buy you a new guitar then!" Gotcha you finally got him, hook, line and sinker.

Hobie hums at that "hmm, tempting, but no"

Frustrated at his lack of cooperation, "You know what fine, James," you turn towards his equally punk friend, "you wanna do it with me instead?" You should have worded that out better.

Hobie widens his eyes at the unintentional innuendo, he smiles at the opportunity, "Hey! No! I'm the only one you can do it with!"

His friends snicker, James looks at you with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Maybe you can ask Yuri, She might be more of your type." Ned teases.

Yuri winks at you. They laugh, Hobie looks at you through his mug with a smile, watching your reaction.

"Guys, really? You're a child, Hobie" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Wait, I've got an idea" Yuri runs off to her room before you could question her.

You and Hobie stare at each other, while he drinks your tea.

"You're lactose intolerant, you're gonna shit yourself later" you grin at him.

"I have lactaid," he says matter-of-fact.

Yuri comes back and gives you a card. "Here"

"What's this? A business card?" You ask.

"Oi, are you actually trying to get a lawyer involved?"

"Yeah, a divorce lawyer, with how you both are acting like you're married" Yuri sarcastically says.

"It's a rewards card from starbucks?" You show Hobie.

Hobie comes closer to see, you both look at Yuri questioningly.

"Since Hobie here can't figure out what to ask of you in exchange for his cooperation with your thing," Yuri points to the both of you. "I figured you both need a rewards system. You poke out a hole in the card every time Hobie wants you to do something for him"

You look at the card with ten logos you can poke out, words printed neatly on top 'buy ten drinks and get a free one!' you look at the back - it expired a year ago.

"So he can ask for ten things then?"

"That's right, better than what you were suggesting, and you can keep track of it all," Yuri adds.

"Nah, I don't think this is better" Hobie declines.

"Do you have any better ideas, genius? Or do you want us to keep going back and forth" you shove the card in his free hand.

"Fine, say pretty please first, lovey" Hobie walks closer to you, the tips of your sock clad toes kisses his bare ones with how close you two have gotten. He looks down at you with a smile.

If you didn't like Hobie so much you would've asked James or any of his punk friends. Honestly you just want an excuse to spend more time with him. With how busy your schedule is, the same goes for Hobie, compared to when you were younger, you two barely hung out this year.

Hobie hopes this project of yours makes you two closer than ever, he also hopes when you finally graduate you get to finally hang out more, but it's a stretch.

You exhale, you look up at him through your eyelashes, "Pretty please, Hobie" you say sweetly. You don't break eye contact, you're not going down without a fight "with cherry on top?" You bat your lashes for added effect.

With how pretty you look up at him, Hobie's breath hitches in his throat, he tries to play it cool though, so he lightly shoves his mug on your chest, signaling his defeat.

You take the mug to your lips, and sip victoriously. You lean against the kitchen island.

"Does that mean I'm out of the picture then" James says, you all look at him unsure if he's joking or if he actually means it.

"Come off it, mate" Hobie shuts him down.

—

You're sweating bullets, wringing your fingers over the other, you wonder where in the world is Hobie? You sneak glances over your classmates and their chosen partners.

You see Flash next to a bombshell of a woman- all high heels, and manicured nails. Compared to his sporty style, he chose well. But judging from how the woman picks at her nails, and sighing every now and then, she definitely did not want to be there.

Your other classmates also chose well, the differences between their partners a stark contrast to each other.

Then there's you, sitting alone, without a partner. You busy yourself by sketching out a prototype of your project, instead of letting your thoughts freak you out.

The creaky doors open, like nails on a chalkboard. You stop in your tracks, head perking up at the sound, is it Hobie?

Your hope fades when your professor's heels echo around the room.

I'm gonna kill him, you internally curse.

Your professor looks around the room, her nose held up high. She opens her mouth to speak—

The door opens in a loud bang, the familiar leather boots strides in nonchalantly.

You would've sighed in relief, if not for Mrs. Williams glaring at Hobie.

"Sorry I'm late, teach" Hobie's hands are tucked inside his leather jacket, your professor's eyes narrow as she looks him up and down.

His eyes zeroes in your form. He smiles lopsidedly, Mrs. Williams follows his gaze, sizing you both up, she finds your pale blue cardigan a glaringly obvious difference to Hobie's leather jacket.

Noticing eyes on both of you, you give Hobie a shy smile, waving to get his ass over to your station.

The various metal on his clothes swing loudly, grabbing attention from everybody else who wasn't already looking your way. You cringe at the unwanted attention.

"Hey, love" Hobie gives his signature smirk.

"You're late!" You whisper-shout.

"Y'know how much I hate waking up early"

"It's half past eleven, Hobie"

"I'm here now aren't I?" He raises a pierced eyebrow.

You would've scolded him more if it weren't for your professor, glaring daggers in your direction.

"Looks like you all partnered up well" Mrs. Williams says plainly "ready your photographs" as she strides up to the nearest station.

"What photograph?" Hobie mimics your professor's cadence.

You elbow him to stop, just in case Mrs Williams has super hearing.

"This picture" you show him a polaroid tucked inside your sketchbook.

Hobie grabs it carefully, it shows you both two years ago, you're smiling widely right next to Hobie as he slings his arm around your neck with his guitar on his back. Hobie grins at the camera as sweat drips on his face.

He chuckles at the memory "I remember this, battle of the bands, right?"

"Yeah, your band won second place" you point at the silver trophy that Hobie's holding in the photograph.

"Should've won though" he slides the picture back to you.

"Aww, still salty, huh"

He leans on your side of the table, hand on his chin "we were robbed, lovey"

"Mmhm, sure" you tease him, even though he's right.

From your peripheral you see your professor looking in your direction.

You swallow down your anxiety, leg bumping up and down, feeling a firm hand on your thigh, you stop, looking at Hobie, a comforting smile on his lips, but all you can give him is a tight lipped smile.

He rubs comforting circles over your thigh, leaning slightly towards you to whisper "it'll be alright, it's just an introduction, you've got this" you would be flustered at the contact, but your nervousness triumphs over it. Hobie shakes your leg, taking his hand back when the professor stops on your station.

She takes one look at the both of you, eyes darting between your forms, she watches as Hobie places an arm behind your chair, smirking at the woman.

You can feel the bead of sweat falling on your forehead, hands shaking.

Mrs. Williams extends a lithe hand to you, asking for the picture on your table. You quickly hand it over, you don't want to make her wait, fumbling a bit, scared to give her a papercut.

She flips the picture to face her, you try to read her reaction, but her straight face makes it hard for you to understand her emotion.

"Good" she hands it over to you after a quick scan of the picture.

"Thank you?" You hold the picture like it's your most precious possession (it is) you can't believe that you actually impressed her, not knowing that the word 'good' is even in her vocabulary.

She moves to the next student, Hobie leans back in his chair, looking at you through his lashes "good? That's it?" He watches as you look at the picture with stars in your eyes, disbelief on your pretty face, Hobie thinks he's gonna have a lot of fun with you in this project, before you inevitably leave him for greener pastures.

He sighs, trying to dampen his thoughts, he's not ready for you to leave his side yet. You've been through thick and thin with him for more than ten years, it's hard for Hobie to think of you not by his side. He's proud of you, truly, but he can't help feeling that you're gonna leave him behind for someone better. He wants to savor every last second with you.

Hobie flicks your cheek, trying to get your attention.

"Ow, what?" You whisper-shout.

"What're you gonna do after this?"

"I don't have other classes today, I guess just go back to the dorms and design?"

"That's loser talk" he pokes your cheeks, what is up with him and your cheeks these days? "Come with me after this snooze fest"

"Where to?" You swat at his hand.

"Somewhere" Hobie shrugs, leather jacket squeaking when he moves.

"Last time you said that, I had to haul your band's equipment, while you lot were blacked out drunk"

"I wasn't blackout drunk" he mimics your voice on the last two words, "I wasn't even drinking that much"

"You introduced me to Ned, I've known him for five years, Hobs"

"So? A reintroduction doesn't hurt?" He tries to play it off, fixing the collar of your shirt.

"Just promise me it's not a pub, I don't want to take care of drunk you again"

He grabs his chest, feigning hurt "I thought you liked taking care of me?"

"I do" his heart sings, you slap your palm over his chest, Hobie's hoping you don't feel the thudding of his chest. "I just don't like getting your sick all over my new trainers"

He winces at the memory, but he bounces back immediately "yeah, but I can't help getting sick over you" Hobie casually flirts, hoping you finally get the hint, ten years isn't too late, right?

You roll your eyes, used to his flirting "stop, my classmates could hear"

"Let 'em" He leans back in his chair, mission failed, he'll get you next time.

Mrs. Williams clasps her hands, one look from her gets the entire room quiet, Hobie doesn't seem fazed though, staring directly in her eyes.

"We'll reconvene next week with your sketches and fabric samples, your partners included. Is that understood?"

A collective "yes ma'am" can be heard from her students, even some of the non-students say it. Hobie mockingly salutes in her direction, you're horrified, good thing she missed it though.

"Hobie!" You say through gritted teeth, grabbing his half raised arm.

"What? She didn't even see" he stands up, heavy boots thudding on the linoleum floors. "C'mon then" Hobie beats you to your backpack, waiting hand stretched towards you.

You hear shuffled feet, your classmates and their partners slowly file out of the room.

"Where are we going?" You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, he's being too nice.

"Told you, somewhere nice"

"Not a pub?"

"Not a bloody pub, it's too early anyway" he flexes his fingers, beckoning you over, "don't make me exercise my rights"

You chuckle "what?"

"The bloody card"

"You want to use one, for this?" You wave the rewards card after grabbing it from your pocket "must be some place important" you tease him.

"Yes, now give me the bloody thing" Hobie snatches it from your fingers, punching out the logo, you see it float down on the table. He hands it back to you, tucking it safely inside your pocket.

"Ooohh one down nine to go" you finally stand up.

"Let's go before they close" He slings his arm over your shoulders.

"Are we taking your bike?"

"Of course, I'm not letting you ride the tube, don't worry I brought your helmet"

"You're such a softie, y'know"

"Yeah, yeah" only for you, he wanted to add, maybe next time he gets to finally say it to you.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it, as always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

[underoossss]

the way you move- s.h -part 2

pairing: jock!steve harrington x ballerina!reader

1.9k words

warnings: language

an: part two of this best friends to lovers story, I hope you guys enjoy these smaller chapters instead of a big story with a lot of cuts. we have some jealous steve because that's always fun and some revelations. let me know what you think!

part 1

✰✰✰✰✰✰

“Stevie!”

Steve’s head whips to the right at the sound of your voice. Warm up had just ended and his teammates were on a water break after finishing all the drills he planned for today. A smile appears on his face as he lifts his hand up in greeting, putting his water bottle down and walking towards you. You look devastatingly pretty, with your hair already up and away from your face for your practice in an hour. Your backpack and duffel bag are slung over your shoulders while you hold your coat and a hoodie in the crook of your arm.

Dark blue long-sleeved leotard and black sweatpants are your outfit for the day –Steve knows you’ll wear the baby blue chiffon skirt today. He might even linger for the beginning of your practice just to see how pretty the colour looks on you. Madame Laverne will try to kick him out, but Steve can be pretty convincing.

“Hey babe, how did your test go?” Steve asks, leaning close to kiss your forehead in lieu of a greeting, he’s too sweaty to hug you but god knows he’ll take any excuse to be close to you.

“Aced it, I’m sure.” You smile brightly enough to knock the wind out of him, self satisfaction clear in your face. “I have Algebra tomorrow and I’m done. Mind if I hang out here?”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly; you always ask, and he always says yes. When has he ever said no to you? “When have I ever said no to you?”

You pretend to think just to tease him before laughing to yourself. “Thanks Stevie, I won’t bother you I promise.”

“You’re not a bother, come on let me help you with that.” Steve takes your bags and sets them on the bleachers you always occupy when you watch basketball practice. “I’ll walk you to class after, okay?” Fuck, he’s whipped.

“Okay.” You smile, that soft smile of yours and sit down, lighting up his body from the inside. “Good luck!”

I’ll need it. Steve thinks on the way back to his teammates. With you sitting so pretty over there he’s bound to be distracted, and he can’t have that.

“I see your girl’s come to see you practice.” Jacob Nully teases as soon as he’s back, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Honestly Harrington when are you going to ask her out?”

“We’re just friends.” Steve says shaking his head –Nully’s always rubbing salt in the wound.

“Please, you know how depressing it is to watch you pine after her for years?” Jacob fake gags. “It’s the only reason why no one’s asked her out you know. We know she’s your girl.”

“She’s n–” Steve begins to say only to be cut off.

“Speak for yourself.” Brad Connors, another teammate speaks out. “If Harrington doesn’t ask her, I might.”

“Shut it Connors.” Steve snaps, clenching his fists instantly like his body’s determined to fight for you.

Brad’s following laugh echoes around the gymnasium. “See, maybe jealousy will get him to ask her out. Better hurry though, Captain.”

With a shove to Steve’s shoulder Connors moves to center court and waves at you. You seem confused for a moment before you wave back, hesitantly. Fucking Connors. Steve would ask you out, he wants nothing more than to ask you out but he’s not sure if you feel that way about him too. You are best friends; you’re the most wonderful person Steve’s met, his best girl. What would happen if he asked you out and you reject him, where would that leave your friendship?

Steve’s mind can’t think of anything else even as he plays and shouts at his teammates. The same question circling his mind in a loop, his brain thinking really hard about your feelings. The two of you are attached at the hip, you do everything together and Steve knows the two of you are happiest when you do. There’s also the fact that you don’t date anyone, ever since you met Steve, despite there being more than a few attempts from people you go to university with. It always makes Steve’s blood boil, how they approach you and try to give the same compliment he gives all the time. It might be his fault though, for selfishly sending deadly looks their way the minute the show interest. But no, at the end of the day it’s your decision and you always say no to any of the guys that try to ask you out.

Then there’s those soft looks Steve’s always in the receiving end of, the way your eyebrows relax and smile does that thing that makes his heart skip. He knows you don’t look at anybody else like that and selfishly he begins to wonder if maybe his feelings have been reciprocated all along.

Your cheer can be heard around the gym when Steve scores a three pointer, which makes him look your way. It turns out, the hoodie you carried earlier and are now wearing is his. He’d been looking for it for a week and all this time you’ve had it. For anyone not playing, the bleachers can get cold during winter, and of course you had to shrug it on while he plays. Because you being there isn’t a distraction enough. No, you have to wear his clothes and look good in it; the oversized fit makes you look cozy and frankly adorable, and Steve knows Harrington is displayed across your back. It makes his heart jump to his throat. Steve smiles though, winking as a thank you for your ever present support. Your returning smile softens even more while your eyes flicker with more affection than usual, and Steve might be wrong after all. What if you feel the same way he does?

He's everything you want. The ache within your chest worsens every time you look at him because Steve during practice is lethally hot. If he’s handsomeness and charm outside the court, in it he’s passion, strength and hotness all in one. You can’t focus on Algebra, and selfishly knew so when you decided to visit Steve today. You can’t go away though, you’ve never been able to, so you brave the cold gym with his hoodie and watch the team play.  Anything to see him wear those dark grey shorts that make you feel things you probably shouldn’t.

Steve’s team for the day wins thanks to his last three-pointer, a beautiful finish for the practice. You can’t help but cheer, and it’s worth it to see the way he smiles and winks at you. Selfishly you want him for yourself, then you’d be free to run towards him and kiss him to show him just how proud of him you are. How can you not be when you’ve seen how much he’s improved since he decided to join the team. His athleticism and discipline helping the team so much he was voted captain last term. If you could confess all of this to him in a kiss and show everyone he’s yours, you would. You don’t though, and only smile feeling your guard fall in a moment, affection clear as day for anyone to see. It only last a second before you remember to shake yourself out of your daze.

Having given up on your test for the day, you snuggle into Steve’s hoodie and watch the end of the practice. Enjoying the way Steve pushes his hair back or pulls the hem of his t-shirt towards his face. Your insides flip and you look away when you feel your body burn, but you’re spared any more torment when within seconds the coaches dismiss the team.

“You didn’t study,” Steve says as he approaches you, a towel around his neck and bag over his right shoulder. His eyes are a soft thing with more warmth than usual; different but you don’t know what.

“It was a fun game.” You shrug, putting your book inside your bag and closing it. “I’ll be fine. I can study some more after class.”

That makes Steve’s gaze move towards his watch and furrow his brows. “Let me change and I’ll walk you, okay?”

You smile and shake your head, you love him more than you can comprehend sometimes. “Stevie you don’t have to.”

Steve’s hand moves towards your face, holding your cheek briefly. “I want to.” He murmurs, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek before his touch disappears. “Five minutes. I’ll be right back.”

You can do nothing else but nod, face burning where the ghost of his touch still lingers. Steve is different, not in a bad way but different enough from an hour ago that you can definitely notice. His eyes kept gazing into yours like he wanted to figure something out and tell you something at the same time. There’s there’s the way he’d lingered like he didn’t really want to part from you. There’s no more time time wonder what’s going on because true to his word Steve is back five minutes later, in his burgundy sweater, black coat and backback thrown over his shoulder.

“Come on babe, you’ll be late to class.” He smiles, taking your duffel bag before throwing his arm around your shoulder.

The smell of soap and a hint of cologne floods your system with warmth and you can’t help leaning closer to Steve, your temple resting against his jaw as you walk. “Thanks Stevie.” You murmur, shivering lightly when the weather outside bites at your skin. “For always walking me to class.”

“You know I love to do it.” Steve’s smile is clear as day in his tone, and its followed by a kiss to your temple. “You think Madame Laverne will let me watch you warm up today?”

His question makes you laugh and shake your head. “You know how she is, I think you can imagine the answer to that.”

“But if I hide behind the curtains…” Steve proposes, seeking only to make you laugh again and succeeding.

“I fear for your well-being if you try to pull that off, Stevie.” You look up at him and smile, having reached the ballet studio. “Maybe when we begin practicing at the theatre, you can sneak in.”

“Oh I just might.” His smile is pure mischief as he whispers, face closer to you than before. Beautiful brown eyes meet yours and linger longer than ever before. Not that you mind. Not that you’ve ever minded. You would gaze into his eyes any chance you got if it wouldn’t make things weird between you. This is the first time Steve’s done it, though, and you wonder briefly if maybe he’s doing it for the same reason you do.

Your thoughts are interrupted however, by a honk on the other end of the street. The two of you jump apart and smile bashfully. What’s happening? Could your wishes be coming true at long last?

“I’ll be here when you’re done.” Steve hands you your duffel bag and smiles before kissing your cheek just like he did the other day. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Stevie.” You smile softly and hug him goodbye. “See you later.”

The two of you linger a moment longer on the sidewalk before heading in different directions. Steve towards the library, and you inside the studio. Hearts pounding, in fear, in love, in determination. What if? You wonder all throughout practice, even as your feet hurt and more blisters appear. What if we both feel the same way?

✰✰✰✰✰✰

part 3

motivate an unmotivated writer, reblogs are appreciated ❤︎

masterlist

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.13

So my mate and I took my little brother out and he was like guys can we watch Deadpool/Wolverine so I watched it a fucking 3rd time

Upon my 3rd time watching I'm disappointed that Origins!Wade/Deadpool wasnt with the Deadpool core

And also I've realised how much dialogue I've like messed up 🤣🤣 thank y'all for sticking with me for chapters 1-3, if I ever post this on AO3 I'll have to spend years editing

This is like a part 1 of 2, the chapter was getting really long sorry

<<Part 12 Part 14>> Masterlist

The phone buzzed next to your head causing you to jolt upright.

You grumbled, eyes half open, patting the bed in hopes to stop the infernal noise.

It was your alarm, the one you had set to get up and go. Only you had set it when you didn't have to spend half the night rearranging your room.

“Morning sunshine.” Logan's voice made you turn. Where was he? He was normally right next t- right. He wasn't here. He was heading towards Nebraska.

“Logan?” You muttered, eyes barely blinking open.

“Hello baby.” He purred.

“Hi.” You smiled, God, his voice could just ease you back to sleep.

“It's pretty early for you to be up.” There was the tiniest echo to him.

“Where are you?” You pulled the phone closer, clearing the morning voice out of your throat.

“On route.” He revved the engine.

“Y-you're on your bike?” You squeaked. “Logan! That's dangerous!”

“It's fine, bub. You're on Bluetooth.”

“It's too early for me to even begin to learn what that is.”

He chuckled, the noise warning your chest. “You're fucking cute.”

“No, you're fucking cute.”

“Mm, wish I was.” He drawled, you could picture the smirk on his face.

Eventually you heaved yourself up and dragged your feet over to the drawers. Pulling out a suitable outfit. Some cycling shorts and a large shirt, no one would know it was Logan's but you.

You contemplated putting a bra on but you really couldn't be bothered with it, spending years in the Void with a broken one - snapped wires were a menace - you had grown accustomed to wearing what essentially was a sports bra so now as you looked at the padded cups they felt stuffy. The shirt was a thicker material - you think it was maybe loungewear? - it had long sleeves and a loose neckline where Logan had worn it.

Your hair was washed yesterday in preparation for today, wanting to look your best, so you didn't have to worry about looking scruffy. No, you looked comfortable.

You were put together well enough and when you looked in the bathroom mirror it was an outfit you would see other women wearing. Not that you cared. Maybe a little bit.

You stuffed your feet into some trainers, seriously debating sliders - you had thought socks and sandals were a big no no but the kids these days loved them - but decided on the trainers in case you needed to run. Preparing for some issue or display or anything.

You chucked your half full backpack over your shoulder, tossing a phone charger into it, and went to find the others.

As you opened the door Blade’s back was leaning against the frame.

“Fuck me!” You jumped, hand over heart. “Blade, you're actually going to kill me one day.”

He hummed. “Why has your bitch ass husband stolen my bike?”

“I did tell him not to.” You shut the door behind yourself.

“Mother fucker has a bike.” He tutted. “Ain't as pretty as mine.”

“Blade, I am sorry, I-” You shrugged, having no clue what to say. “He's an ass.”

“If he scratches it…”

“If he does, you have my permission to fight him.” Mock knighting him as you said 'permission'.

He laughed lowly. “We did fight once. Ended up on the same side. He gave me his coat.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“Some bloodsucker. Had an M name.”

Blade hadn't told you that. He hadn't mentioned he had once known a Wolverine. Not even when you had cried on his shoulder as Laura joined your party. You had mourned her, as well as the rest of your family, so seeing her alive and well really did mess with your psyche.

Laura's door opened to your left and she let out a surprised sound. “I was coming to see if you were awake.”

“Me and uncle Blade were just talking.”

“Anything interesting?” Her pupils fluttered between the two of you.

“A wolverine gave him a coat.” You repeated. “I didn't know he had met one.”

She crossed her arms. “Me neither.”

“I don't jabber like you.” He winked, a sly smile revealing his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and passed the man to knock at Gambit's door.

“Why are you up?” Laura asked Blade just in your earshot.

“Wanted to see you off.” He patted her shoulder. “Seeing less of you nowadays.”

She wormed her way into hugging him, not that he really resisted, and squeezed him. “It's strange being here.”

“I know.”

You wish you hadn't knocked at Gambit's door because the fucker opened it pulling your attention from them. “‘ey.” He nodded at you. “Who' ready for some drivin’?” Gambit ruffled your hair and shot passed you to the others. “Didn’ kno’ you'ere comin’.”

“I'm not.” Blade informed.

Gambit shrugged and tugged at Laura, “C’mon!”

You all trotted towards Logan's Jeep and climbed in. Your baby had the back row to herself and she had been clever enough to pack a small pillow in her bag.

Laura was wearing a Megadeth tee on top of a long sleeve with a pair of jeans. Gambit had opted for jeans as well but his seemed to be intentionally low waist. He'd paired it with a shirt that you're sure he had done a DIY crop job on.

All in all none of you looked like you were going to the same place but you looked good and you all felt comfy, all were able to decide what to wear. Not forced into the same outfit day in and day out. Laundry day in the Void was hilarious.

Everyone - bar Laura of course - had seen everyone else naked. You remember Magneto scoffing at yourself, Johnny and Gambit for sitting playing checkers in practically nothing, the odd sock and a ratty old shirt for modesty.

Y/N: setting off now x

You knew Logan would want to know so as Blade tapped the side of the car and Gambit pulled away from the curb you sent the text.

Your phone was sitting on your lap, Waze telling him where to go interrupting your playlist.

The Killers were your newest conquest. They were brilliant. You loved everything they performed, so dancy and fun!

Waze instructed you to get onto the highway you and Logan had had your hot steamy car sex and you had to fight the blush. If you were anywhere else people could've spotted you, well, they probably saw your car rocking… could you get a ticket for public indecency if they didn't have actual proof?

What if the car rocking was on camera?

“She's ‘sleep.” Gambit whispered next to you.

You turned back to see Laura spread out, sparko. “I hope she has fun at the Mansion.”

“Why wouldn' she?” He flicked the blinker on.

“I dunno, she hasn't been there.”

“Neither, chere.”

Gambit merged.

“Well, I know she had herself a Charles, I know he died in front of her. And yeah she's seen the one here for a millisecond, she had him look into her mind, but that's different. This will be informal, this will be- oh, I don't know.”

“You jus’ ‘ave to let things be things.” He shrugged. “You're worrying for her, when you don't need to. She strong. If she need you, she'll ask.”

You let that sit with you. He was right of course. She was tough and she would ask but since your little incident you were worried she had taken a step back. “It's just hard. We've lost so many people, I want to keep you all safe.”

“No such thing as safe.”

Again he was right. Say, right now, someone could have a brain aneurysm and crash their car into yours. There was literally no such thing as safe in a world of ever increasing variables. You, even, still entertained the notion that this was Cassandra toying with you.

“I don't think people give you enough credit, Remy.”

He chuckled. “Yo’ kno’ it serious when you use're my name.”

You laughed with him.

~~

The mansion came into view and you felt a nervous twinge in your stomach. “Laura baby.” You nudged her knee.

The girl cracked an eye and realised where you guys were. “We're here?”

“Yeah, love.”

She sat up and eagerly undone her belt.

“Laura, Gambit, this is the X-Mansion.”

The building was the same, there were slight differences in the foliage but it was eerie how exact everything was. You could see Colossus was standing like a statue at the door to greet you.

Gambit pulled up in front to the entry stairs.

He turned the car off and you all exited.

“Y/N, Laura, Remy.” Colossus greeted in kind. “Welcome, welcome.”

The three of you trotted up the stairs and into the front doors.

Fuck me, even the chandelier had it's one flickering bulb. This was your mansion. Your home. Your sanctuary.

//

“You needn't fear, Miss L/N.” Charles spoke above your head to your mother. “Y/N will be safe here.”

You could hear giggling to the left, giggling and stomping. There were kids having fun. Craning your neck you could see one kid floating mid air whilst the other had their hands extended.

They were using their powers… they were allowed to use their powers.

“Hey.” A feminine voice caught your attention. It was a young girl - a year or so older than you, maybe seventeen? - with bouncy ginger hair and a kind face. “You're new.” She spoke without moving her lips. “I'm Jean.”

“Y/N.”

The girl gave you a bright smile. “I was asked to show you your room.”

You turned back to your mother who was still engaged in conversation with Professor Xavier. She looked different. Her shoulders weren't sagging and her eyes seemed hopeful. She wanted you here. Wanted you to be safe and, well let's face it, she'd be safer without a fucked up child.

“You're not 'fucked up'.” Jean rolled her eyes. “You're just something new.”

Your eyes widened. “Can you hear my mind?”

“Yeah, sorry. I can't turn it off all the time.” She had genuine embarrassment splattered on face. “I don't mean to, I'm still practising.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I'll try to keep my thoughts quiet.”

\\

The familiar sound of wheels pulled you from the memory. “Ahh.” Charles came into view. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The others had clearly picked you as the spokesperson so you smiled. “Thank you for having us.”

“Of course.” His eyes crinkled with glee. “It was your home previously and apparently it hasn't changed. Would Laura and Remy care for a tour?”

The others looked at each other before nodding, unsurely.

“I'll call you both a guide.” He spoke before just sitting still. To an onlooker it would look rude, sarcastic, to say that and then sit motionless but you knew otherwise.

A girl with dead straight, long blonde hair and an unearthly feel to her sauntered into the entry. “I take Laura to Ellie and Yukio.” She spoke with a thick russian accent.

“Thank you kindly, Illyana.” Charles spoke over his shoulder.

You weren't 100% comfortable with Laura leaving but she had an eager expression on her face so you let her go with nothing more than a “call me if you need me.”

The two girls walked up the first flight of stairs, there were many in this labyrinth of an estate, and as they did they passed Rogue. She had darker skin than your Rogue but there was no mistaking that hair. Her hair was thick, voluminous and curly.

Her hips swayed as she strutted down the stairs. Adorned in ‘people clothes’ but looking every bit the X-Man she was.

“Y’all alright Sugar?” She placed her gloved hands on her hips. “I'm Anna Marie, they call me Rogue.”

“Remy LeBeau.” He bowed next to you. “They call me th’ Gambit.”

“Mmm. A Cajun, I can't wait to get some recipes outta you.” She waved him along, towards the right of the stairs and then disappeared underneath them to the kitchen.

Gambit clapped your shoulder before he jogged after her.

You were left with Charles. He was still smiling sweetly at you, it was a little unnerving.

“So…” You clapped your hands. “Who's my tour guide?”

“You don't need one, dear.” He told you simply. “You're free to explore, if you need me, call me.” He then whirled and zoomed off.

You were just left.

Again, to an onlooker it was rude. But maybe he knew you’d feel awkward paired with a X-Man. You would have to pretend to be in awe of the jet or the grounds or even just them. You knew a lot of these people but they had no clue you even existed.

If the TVA really went back and altered the reality was it still the same universe? How could they take their Logan out of it when he was the original Anchor being to the whole thing?

You pushed those thoughts aside and stomped through into one of the sitting areas.

It was large and decorated warmly. There were four sofas, three of which were in a square by the fire and the other was behind the one adjacent to the flames. There were coffee tables with board games and empty cups, messy bookshelves stacked high with trinkets and more games.

Two kids were playing chess, one had wings and the other was orange. Both were humanoid and young. Maybe 12?

//

You didn't care where you landed but you needed to sit by a fire. Stomping the light sleet off of your boots, you slipped out of your wet coat and scarf. Abandoning them on the floor - no one would be awake now - you rushed through into the first sitting available room. You flipped over the back of the sofa, face buried in pillows as your socks felt vague embers of warmth.

It was dangerous that it was still roaring but you didn't give a flying fuck.

“You alright bub?” A voice asked, opposite you.

You scrambled into a more presentable position and saw it was the new guy. What was his name? James? Jackson? Jonathan? It was definitely a J-Name.

He was sitting on the sofa opposite, in an X-Men hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, his feet were bare. The clothes led you to believe he had come from his bedroom.

“Yeah.” You nodded, hands outstretched to the flames. “Sorry, didn't realise anyone would be up.”

“It's alright.” He moved his hand to show that he was nursing a drink.

You questioned in disbelief, “is that bourbon?”

“Don't rat me out and you can have some.”

Now, that was an offer too good to pass up. “Sure thing. I saw nothing.”

He didn't have another glass so emptied the liquid into his mouth, wiped the rim and handed you a full glass. “Don't mind the-”

“It's fine.” After the day you had sharing a glass with a handsome man was nothing. “Working here I'm immune to any disease you could imagine.” You took a healthy swig, the liquid burning your throat. Immediately warming your insides. “I dunno if this is good stuff is but it's fucking strong. So cheers to that.”

He raised the bottle and took a gulp. You both sat in silence. After a while you had to shed your jumper, the heat making you sweat. He waited for you to fold your jumper before asking. “How long you been here?”

You did the mental maths. “Seven years.”

He hummed, the fire casting shadows that danced beautifully against his skin.

“Used to be everyone's favourite student, now I'm their favourite teacher.”

“Pretty thing like you, I'm sure you're right.” You had to pull your eyes away from him as he smirked. “What’d you teach?”

“Self defence.”

“Maybe I'll pop by.”

You took another sip. “You should. It'd be good to show the kids how to take down a bigger opponent.”

He sniggered. “It's a date.”

You prayed that the heat in your cheeks was from the fire.

“Why're you getting in so late?” One of his brows met his hairline. His hair was bonkers but endearingly cute, he looked like a little kitty cat. You wanted to see if it was as soft as you imagine.

You heaved a sigh. “I had to walk, the bike packed in.” Scott had loaned you his bike, drilling into you that you needed to refill it after using it. Well the fucker hadn't because it had conked out halfway through the journey.

The man opposite gave you a guilty smile. “Scott's?” You nod. “I might borrow it without his permission every now and then.”

You rolled your eyes. “So you're why I had to trek in the storm for 30 minutes. You owe me more than a drink Mr.”

“Logan.” He offered. Huh, you could've sworn it was a J-Name.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I'll make it up to you Y/N. Somehow.”

\\

A buzz in your pocket centred you back to reality.

Logan: Picked up his scent a while back. He's walking in circles

Y/N: Why? X

Logan: Classic misdirection, maybe shield weren't so careful

Y/N: Just be safe baby x

Logan: Course

Logan: How's the mansion?

Y/N: Memory lane has nothing on this place x

Logan: That good?

Y/N: Think so… just remembered meeting Logan for the first time. We'd sorta been introduced before but actually talking was a while after

He had read the message but didn't reply immediately. Perhaps he had to put the phone away to track Victor?

Logan: I'm here if things get overwhelming

Y/N: I'm not gonna call you on a hunt, love x

Logan: You're allowed. No one else.

Logan: You have any sort of 'wobble', you call me. No tears without me knowing

Y/N: Okay x

Logan: I gotta go but I love you Y/N

Y/N: You more baby x

The kids kept giving you confused side eye so you carried on into the next room. Surely they had seen a random person before, your mansion had a new person daily.

//

“Big brother is watching you.”

“Please, I beg you, I will do anything. Please do not spoil this.” You begged. He had found you sitting on the floor in a small crevice, 1984 clutched in hand. “This is the only book the students haven't read. ‘did you like that part miss?’ no I haven't got to that part yet, Sanhu!”

“I won't.” His hands met his hips. “What are you doin’?”

“Isn't it obvious? I'm Hiding.” Your eyes scanned the room before you eased yourself up, Logan caught your hand and steadied you.

“Sorry to pull you from your spot.”

“It's okay, wasn't you I was hiding from.” You dogeared the page and closed the book. “They keep finding me. There's only so many inane questions I can stomach.”

Logan chuckled. “It's ‘cause half have a crush on you and the rest are trying to imitate ya.”

You scoffed. “I highly doubt that.”

“Bub, trust me.” He rolled his eyes at your expression. “Here.” He handed you a blank CD case. “I came to give you this, it's the band that sings Sexical.”

“Oh cool!” You accepted the CD and flipped it. It looked man-made; ‘She's an angel’, ‘fuel to run’ and ‘cream’ scrawled in Logan's messy scratch. “You made this?”

“There are some songs I don't think you'd like, so I thought I'd put the good ones together.” He shrugged, the wall behind you becoming interesting.

You opened the case to see he had thankfully written the band's name - Love/Hate - with the same marker on the disc.

“Well, thank you. I'll dig my Walkman out.”

Logan gave you a nod and stalked off.

~~

Christmas was wholly celebrated in the Mansion as there were those who couldn't return home. Storm and Jubilee had convinced you to help with the decorations and it took little to no convincing to get a certain gruff man to assist.

“Every year there's more.” You gestured to the decs.

Logan was leaning against the wall, he had helped you with the foil garlands, arms folded. “You love it.”

“Of course I do but taking it all down haunts me.” Last year it had taken four days to rid the Mansion of every last bit of tinsel. Angel had found a missed snowflake in the middle of June, it had fallen and landed on top of a portrait frame.

“If you had it your way, they'd stay up all year.”

“No.” You were adamant. “Halloween trumps Christmas.” Logan's brows rose to his hairline. “What? It's the superior holiday.”

“Wow, I knew you liked Halloween but hearing that from little miss kringle is something else.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove. “Shut up.”

Logan caught your wrist and placed it back down to your side, pulling you closer as he did. “Don't start things you can't finish.”

“Oh, we all know I can take you.” You gave him a smug smirk, spurred on by his intoxicating gaze - there were flecks of green hidden in his dark eyes - you added, “And in a fight.”

Logan's eyes bugled yet they slipped to your lips and back up.

“Hey, tweedle Dee and Dum!” Ororo’s voice called. “I'm seeing a lot of gazing longingly into each other's eyes and not seeing a lot of decorating.”

You turned to see Storm standing at the opposite side of the room, box in hand, one brow raised.

“Gazing longingly?” Logan scoffed as you called out: “We needed a five minute break!” You gave a nervous chuckle at his response and the situation in itself before trotting over to Storm, Logan let your wrist go a second too late, causing another awkward laugh.

“You can't tell me this room isn't festive enough.” Your voice was slightly higher than usual, no one commented but you knew they knew.

“It isn't festive enough.” Storm deadpanned, handing you yet another box, she did crack a smile at your ‘wtf’ face. “This is the last one. I promise.”

You didn't believe her in the slightest but let her vacate the room as you opened the storage box. It was faux greenery, garlands and wreaths and mistletoe.

“Ooh, Logan look!” You presented the herb. “Poisonous to werewolves.”

Logan was still standing by the wall but took a couple steps forward to look. “Lucky we don't have any.”

“Yet.” You added. “With all us mutants it wouldn't surprise me if we got a Vamp or an Undead being. I mean you're pretty grizzly, not far off a wolf.”

A familiar smile settled onto Logan's face, it was the same one he wore whenever you went on a tangent. You suppose being the silent watcher he was, he must be used to people yapping around him, hopefully you didn't annoy him too much.

You tried to refocus. “Where should we put it?”

“Depends on who you want to catch out.”

“Well, Jean won't tell me that her and Scott have a thing… but they totally have a thing. Maybe we try to catch them.”

“‘We’ yeah?”

“Are you backing out of my incredibly complex and well thought through plan?”

“Never.”

~~

“Get out!” You screamed. “Go!”

The children behind you sprinted. They didn't wait for another order.

The humans had decided that they'd start out their New Year by killing children.

Your fields held strong against their bullets but you had known they would - if they could last against Adamantium they could last against a few bullets - creating bubbles of safety.

You were defense. Always on the lookout, always trying to hold back the onslaught so that the others could either fight or flee.

The footsteps behind you were out of earshot, meaning the children had got to safety. An underground tunnel would get them to a safe point. They would wait there for an adult.

You had done many drills and tests but you never thought this was a possibility. Fucking ridiculous!

You made a huge bubble and shoved the humans back, most of them being flung out of windows, glass shattering everywhere, but some hit the walls being knocked unconscious.

You were in bed, meaning that you had no shoes on so you tried to avoid blood, glass, bullet shells and any other debris as you examined each room.

You needed to get back to the others, you were protecting them from afar when a child screaming interrupted your flow. Logan's eyes had made contact with yours from his position in the garden and he gave you a few frantic nods. You didn't need permission but it was good that one of the team knew you weren't hit. If your fields suddenly vanished without explanation they might think the worst.

Shouting across the hall severed the silence and you jumped right back into the action. Jogging down the corridor, keeping low as you passed exposed areas.

Entering the room, you found nothing. It was just some of the teenage bunks. There were no children, no enemies, nothing.

Where had the shouting com-

Hands wrapped around you and you struggled, snarling as they strapped something to your neck. You tried to shove them off and create a field to prevent the rope? from winding around your neck. To stop it getting tighter.

No.

It wasn't a rope.

It was cold.

Metallic.

Why weren't your fields working?

“Not so strong now, cutie?” A masculine voice spoke from behind, he circled you and gripped your jaw with one hand. “It's a shame you're one of them, you're fucking hot.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket?” You sassed. “Wouldn't want mommy to know you liked a freak like m-” He yanked your hair, making your neck click as he pulled you backwards.

“Tsk, tsk. A girl like you should know what comes out of your mouth should be prettier than what goes in.”

You spat in his face.

“That's it, bitch.” He struck you across your face - releasing his grip on your hair - with such force you landed on your knees.

He looked unimpressed as he stalked over to you and yanked on your arm, dragging you along with him. You fought back of course but felt inadequate without your powers. What sort of technology did they posses to force the Mutant gene into submission?

He groaned at the top of the stairs before you were tossed down them.

Your vision was blurry when you came to, he was dragging you again, bruised and aching. You could feel warmth flow from your hairline, down to your eyebrows, also leaking from your nose. Moving your arm was painful but you wiped your nose and found a blurry sticky red substance on your hand.

“Oit!” He yelled.

You were yanked down another few steps - each one sending a new jolt of pain through your body - but as you felt the floor it was hard. Small cold stones met your bare legs.

Outside. You were outside.

“You Muties, stick together right?” He presented you, slumped on the floor, squinting up at him. “Sorry, one second.” The man threaded his hand back into your hair and pulled you up, deciding kneeling wasn't good enough and forced you to stand on throbbing ankles. “What's her mutant name? You all have one, right?”

Your eyes focused and refocused trying to make out who was on the field. Storm was easy to see because of her hair but you could also see Hank and Scott. You knew Logan was there earlier but couldn't see him now.

“What? No one wants to play now?” He turned your head towards him and gave you an over exaggerated frown.

You had just enough sense in you to spit in his face again.

“That's it you fu-” he didn't finish his sentence because he was too preoccupied with punching you straight in the face.

You, again, landed on the ground but this time you were giggling.

“What's so funny?”

“You got-” You wheezed, closing your eyes. “Mutant spit in your mouth.”

He turned back to the others, addressing them. “I was going to bargain with her life but she's pissing me off, so I'm just going to kill her instead.” He chuckled. “Uh-uh-uh Cyclops. You can't kill a human under the new bill.”

“What?” Scott voiced the question you all thought.

“No mutant can kill a human, not even in self defense. Starting on January 1st. It's too bad for your lo-” He cut himself off with a choked gargle.

“No, it's too bad for you.” Logan taunted. “You had 6 minutes.”

The clamp on your neck fell away and hands were on your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You tried to open your eyes but it was agony. “Hey, bub.”

“That's my line.”

~~

Laying on the grass had become somewhat a passtime of yours now. For some reason you found comfort in the field.

When you had nightmares of that sadistic man and the bill and the humans and everything in your life, coming outside and laying on the dewy ground recentered you.

Charles and Erik had called a truce and began battling political opponents instead of each other. The bill was bullshit. It had passed and been withdrawn within a month.

It was odd classing Erik and Raven as enemies again when you knew ultimately you wanted the same goal but you would have to get used to it.

“I thought I'd find you out here.” You extended your neck to see Logan standing behind you.

“Hey, Lo.”

He collapsed next to you, sitting with one leg bent, his elbow resting on the knee. “You alright?”

You'd been the only mutant in the Mansion so far to have a collar fitted around your neck. You'd been the only one truly defenceless. Truly useless!

“I like the stars.”

He hummed, falling into a weighty silence with you.

There was no denying the two of you had grown closer, hell, he was probably your best friend at this point.

The two of you were paired together in training drills and in your lessons because you could really fight each other. Neither holding back. Your power could stop his. You were evenly matched.

He had gifted you more CDs and you had let him borrow a David Bowie LP. If he found you laying on the sofa reading he would sit next to you and keep you warm. He was so warm. Once, he even read to you. Your eyes were so tired and he plucked the book from your hands and finished the chapter.

You would never tell anyone, least of all him, but that was one of your fondest memories. His voice was so soothing and, bless him, he had even made up voices for the characters.

Logan always sat next to or opposite you as you ate, he was usually the main reason you ate, saving you a plate or bowl.

He was… well, like every other person with eyes here you'd formed a crush on him. He was just so kind. So generous. And it didn't hurt that he looked like that.

“I was thinkin’,” He started. You looked over, expecting him to still be sitting but he had moved. He was lying next to you, watching you. His nose inches from yours. “Tomorrow, I'll take you to to the bar I like.”

He was known for sneaking off premises at night. Coming home smelling like booze and smoke.

“The bar you like?” He had never confirmed he went to a bar - he was oddly secretive about certain aspects - but you all knew, it was something for him to admit it.

“It's a real shit hole but it's cheap and close.”

Your lips upturned at his blunt response. “Okay. You and me tomorrow. It's a date.”

“It is.” His face was serious. “I am taking you on a date.”

Oh.

“Me?” You were flabbergasted. There were goddesses like Jean and Ororo and Raven and Psylocke knocking about and he wanted to take you on a date?

“There was only so much rolling about in the simulator we could do before I asked you out.” He joked but you could see an undercurrent of fear in his eyes.

“Yeah. Okay.” Your cheeks were warm. “I'd really like that.”

His cheeks pinkened and he looked up at the stars trying to suppress his smile. “Good.”

You felt his hand intertwine in yours and tried so hard to act natural. Tried to keep your breath steady and appear calm and collected.

“So, uh, what does one wear to a real shit hole?”

Logan's shoulders shook with his laugh.

~~

It wasn't easy to take things slow when you lived and worked with the person.

Logan was ever the gentleman and gave you space but it was a strange mixture of wanting to be with him platonically and wanting to be with him romantically.

He was your best friend. You wanted to talk to him about your newest date but you also needed to act cool and casual.

You failed miserably at both of those things.

In fact you almost had a heart attack when he kissed your forehead for the first time.

He was yet to actually kiss you.

Which was good because it meant he liked you enough to listen and wanted to be around you without getting into your pants but you wanted him in your pants.

Which brought you to the present.

You were currently standing outside of his room - having knocked - waiting for a response.

“Lo, it's me.” You called through the wooden door.

“Come in.” He answered, slightly muffled.

You entered the room, he wasn't in view but the door leading to the bathroom was open, and flopped onto his bed. Letting out an exaggerated sigh - definitely not to inhale his smell - you spoke against his duvet, “I'm bored.”

“Yeah?” His footsteps got closer and you lifted your head and took a double take.

The fucker was glistening, a towel sitting far too low on his hips. His torso was gorgeous, he looked spectacular. He had strong pecs and chiselled abs, dusted with a coating of soft hair and there was one vein that disappeared into the towel that you ached to lick.

“Bub?” When your forced your eyes onto his face you saw a cocky grin.

“Yes?” You blunk, trying to figure out if he had spoken anything else. How long had you been ogling him?

A droplet of water fell from his hair and ran down his neck, passed his pecs and journeyed further- no! Don't look again.

Do not get caught twice!

“It should be illegal to look like you.” You spoke to your hands. They were resting on the duvet where your face had been.

“Kettle. Pot. Black.” One of his hands settled onto the towel, he usually had a belt to hold, so the movement could've been innocent but with the way his eyes scanned you, you knew it wasn't.

You eased yourself up, sitting on your folded legs and stared at him. Maybe you shouldn't. No either way you win. Either you call his bluff or... “You got a condom?”

The smile could've split his face in half, he licked his teeth, walking closer to the bed. Leaning down to open his bedside table he presented you with an unopened pack.

“Just for you.”

“I feel so special.”

Logan's right hand met your cheek and his thumb caressed the flesh. He was taller than you in this position so he lent down to kiss you. He was slow about it, giving you time to back out, but once his lips met yours he fastened the pace.

Your hands didn't know where to rest. One was fiddling with his chest hair whilst the other clawed at his back. You didn't want to be the one who disrobes their partner after less than thirty seconds of kissing but there was no robe. Can't disrobe someone who isn't wearing one, right? A mere piece of fabric barely covered him.

Oh my god.

He was naked.

Naked under the towel.

Fuck.

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip and you eagerly allowed access. Logan's chest rumbled, vibrating your hand, and you pulled back eyes wide.

“Do that again.”

He complied and you kissed your way along his chest. Sometimes you forgot how animalistic you were. How primal you could be.

Your cavewoman brain liked big strong man making noise.

Logan's nose nuzzled your neck, kissing your jaw and he ran his tongue across your jaw downwards to your collar bone.

It was almost embarrassing how wet you were but the steadily growing length poking your thigh made you feel better.

“I can smell you.” He ran his nose by your neck again. “Can always smell you. You're so sweet.”

“Always?” That better not be a hint.

“I know if you've been in a room.” He nipped your cheek. “I'm tuned into your frequency but now,” his voice deepened. “I can smell here.” The touch was phantom but his fingers were where you wanted him most.

You only had on a baggy shirt and ratty pj shorts so you were quick to slip out of the shorts, tossing them behind your shoulder.

“Towel.” You ordered.

“I-” He paused, conflict flashing behind his eyes. “If we start I'm not su-”

“There is nothing that could make me not want this.” You didn't know how else to say it. "I would do a lot of bad things to do a lot of bad things to your body."

He smirked and allowed you to tug on the towel, it loosening, revealing his dick.

Oh, it was fucking fantastic.

You couldn't help but kiss his abdomen, dragging your tongue along the low vein. Wrapping a hand around his length you kissed the tip and he shuddered.

“You're beautiful.” You spoke to his dick, licking the slit.

“Take your shirt off.”

You grumbled, ignoring him, and licked the underside from shaft to head.

“Y/N. Shirt. Off.” His hand held your neck, halting your movements - you were stopped, your tongue poking out just shy of him.

Pulling up you made a show of removing the shirt and his hands were instantly on you. One was at your hip whilst the other kneaded your breast. He dipped his head and captured a nipple between his teeth, making your spine arch.

“You, er, you experienced?” He questioned releasing your nipple from his lips, his eyes gazing up at you.

Why did it feel like he was embarrassed to ask?

“I've had a couple not great fucks,” You shrugged. “Prefer my own company.”

“That's about to change.” He captured your lips again.

~~

You were snuggled up in your bed watching the credits roll on a VHS you'd finally got your mitts on.

Logan slipped into your room and under the covers, wrapping a hand around your waist and dipping himself to kiss your cheek.

It was wet. Why was your cheek wet?

“Y/N?” What had happened?! Who did he have to kill?

“Spock fucking died!” You explained, frantically wiping your cheeks. “He just like sacrificed himself?”

If you had known that would happen you wouldn't have watched the movie at this particular time of the month.

Logan gave you a sympathetic noise and rolled you onto your spine, kissing your nose.

“It's okay.”

“No, it isn't.” Your eyelashes were wet but your eyes were no longer glossy. "Jim is alone, now."

"We'll get through this together."

Logan's palm found your abdomen and he kept his hand there, warmth radiating through easing some of the pain. “That's really nice.”

“I always get a fright each month when I can smell blood on you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, placing delicate kisses to your flesh.

“How was the mission?” Your lips grazed his ear.

He had told you that your neck was his favourite part of you because it smelt the most. He was eager to mark and claim your as his own because it mingled the scents and apparently that was amazing. Logan seemed to get off on your scent alone so when there were hints of him on you he was wild.

“Distracted.” He sucked the junction between neck and collar bone. He had been chosen because of his unique sense of smell. It was a gift that he could track so easily. “Could smell you on my fingers, I didn't want to get bad guy blood on my hands because it would fuck it up. You'd smell wrong.”

Your body twitched as his tongue soothed the sore flesh. “That why it took longer?”

“Hmm.” He produced a small navy box from his jeans pocket, laying it on your chest. “This is why.”

You frowned but opened the lid to see the most beautiful pair of earrings imaginable. Diamond studs, each with three individual chains dangling, covered in more diamonds.

“O-Logan?”

His face was buried into your neck for an entirely different reason now. It was fucking adorable that this big strong man still blushed around you. “Was gonna wait til your birthday but…”

“Thank you, Lo.” You kissed where you could reach on his cheek. “They're beautiful.”

“I brought them because…” He pulled back, his hazel eyes studying your face. “I want to take you out more. Take you to places that aren't natural or manmade disasters. I want to show you off to the world. I like having you on my arm, I really want to show you off. I think we should go out more. You and me just see the world, maybe? Travel? And, well, I've also realised that I fucking love you.”

Neither of you had quite admitted that yet. There were close calls where you almost did after a bad mission but it felt wrong to tell him on your deathbed. Felt like you'd cheat him. He deserved more than a ‘hi and bye’.

“I love you, too. I think I might even love you more, Logan.” Your fingers stroked his temple, gruff hair itching your hand.

He let out a sigh of relief and you almost laughed because how could you not replicate the feelings? Then you considered the way he rambled. How much this must have meant to him, he always wanted to do it right; to make sure everything was perfect for you but it was when he stuttered and said things out of order that you really saw how much he cared. He was unable to form literate sentences because he loved you so deeply. That was true, real love. Not the smooth talking, lady killers in the movies.

“No you don't.” He pecked your forehead.

~~

“Who wants to see me kick Mr Logan's ass?” You cockily placed your hands on your hips.

Logan was standing next to you, hands in his hoodie pockets.

He was wearing matching grey sweatpants and you were dying. How did grey sweats look that good?

“He can't die.” Marcus - a little shit - sassed. “What's the point in fighting someone that can't die?”

“Well, self defence isn't about killing.” You set him straight. “It is about protecting yourself. Being able to keep yourself safe in this world is the most powerful thing you'll ever learn.” Hopefully, they would never know the hopelessness you felt when that collar locked around your neck, hopefully they could live in peace. Live freely.

Marcus just rolled his eyes.

“She's right, kid.” Logan backed you up. “There's a lot to fighting that isn't killing. I've been around a long time, I'd know.”

“Then shouldn't you fight someone more evenly matched?” He raised a brow. You knew this was coming. He had grown up in a very strict household. His parents were cultists, if he hadn't been a mutant he would've been the next leader. Shame. Women were beneath men in his eyes - which wasn't necessary his fault and you were trying to carefully show him but the fucker was pissing you off.

“She's kicked my ass more than any other opponent.” Logan shrugged playfully but you could see the twitch of his jaw.

“That's because you fight often. It's a matter of quantity and not quality.”

“Okay.” You clapped your hands before the kid would get on Logan's nerves. “Who wants to show me their skills?”

The lesson went smoothly after that. You saw a lot of potential in Erica and begged Winston to keep practising.

Marcus refused to show you - or anyone - his ability.

You had assumed it was because ‘mutant is wrong’ was drilled into him as a child but perhaps he just didn't trust you. You'd have to figure out how to bring him out of that shell.

The students left your class with a varying amount of glee.

“I don't know how you're so nice.” Logan lit a cigar. “You just put this smile on and keep going.”

“He's a kid.” You answered. “A stupid kid but a kid.”

“I think we're evenly matched.” He winked.

You scoffed and tidied away some of the equipment.

It was nagging at you.

It had been all class.

‘I've been around a long time’

Yeah, you knew.

Everyone knew.

But woul-would you be old and shrivelled and he'd still be the same?

Would he look at you in disgust once you started greying?

“What's the most dead you've been?” The words were sudden and far from eloquent.

Logan blinked, his brows meeting. “The most dead I've been?”

You nodded.

He pondered the question. “I was a skeleton at one point. My skin and organs regrew it was trippy.”

You considered the answer.

He could literally operate as a skeleton and you were out for a week because of a bad cold.

Was this the first chip?

Was this something that would slowly become a larger crack?

Would your relationship survive this?

You plastered a grin on your face. “Okay.”

~~

“Hey handsome!” You strutted straight up to Logan. He looked amazing, wearing a dark button down and black dress trousers. You wanted to take him straight upstairs.

“Baby.” His arm automatically wrapped around your waist, kissing your hairline before reconnecting with Kurt.

You didn't catch what they were talking about, too drunk to care but sober enough to nod along when they looked at you.

Kurt poked your nose before he disappeared and you sneezed.

“Bless you.” Logan bent his neck to look at your scrunched face.

“That was so tickly.” You rubbed your nose, hoping your makeup stayed in place.

“Have I told you you look beautiful tonight?”

“Only a thousand times.” You grinned upwards, tiptoeing to capture his lips. “I know it's Hank's birthday but you look so yummy. Want to take you upstairs.”

Logan growled at your words, wrapping his other hand around you, “I won't say no.”

“Let's go then.” You kissed his chin.

“Hey lovebirds!” Bobby called across the room. “I need another teammate.”

“Go on.” Logan nudged you, you had all night and the rest of your life to fuck. Maybe you should enjoy your friends company. Linger in the room too long. “You'll be terrible but it'll be fun to watch.”

He was standing next to Sunspot at one end of a Beer Pong match. Jubilee, Kitty and Rogue were at the other.

You mock gasped but knew he was right.

The game was rigged, you were sure of it. You had to drink every time and barely managed one cup. Logan took pity on you after the second beer and downed your drinks, the others weren't best pleased but no one was going to argue with the Wolverine about his girl.

It was so good to let loose.

After having your hysterectomy and being without your best friend for months this was bliss.

You hadn't realised how much he was a part of you. Removing him from your life left it cold and empty.

It was cliché but you had slowly tumbled into a depression without him. Much like any teenage lead in a shitty romcom being without your boyfriend was agony.

He understood your reasoning, didn't condone the actions but was able to see it from your perspective.

You were rarely allowed to be out of his eyeshot, now. He had become even more protective of you, wanting you to feel loved and supported even if you told him you didn't need that. He wanted you to come to him with any issue, to trust him, no matter how big or small.

And you wanted to be strong.

You wanted to prove that you were okay.

But being carried up to bed and coddled was fucking lovely.

“It's Alice in Chains!” You excitedly clapped Logan's arm. He had played you this song more than once, you think it was called Nutshell. Did Hank borrow some of your CDs? “This is your favourite song!”

He smirked. “Not my favourite but it's a good one.” He wrapped himself around your body, his front to your back, watching Jubilee sink one for Bobby.

“What is your favourite song?”

He hummed and you felt his shoulders move. “I don't know, I'd have to think on it.”

Okay, you'd allow that. It wasn't an easy question so you reworded it. “If you were dying right now what would you want to listen to?”

“You humming in the kitchen.” He answered without a second thought.

You giggled, turning in his hold. “No, come on, seriously.”

He rest his forehead against yours. “When you hummed Elvis… making those flapjacks… the sun was-it made you look ethereal, you were an angel. I want that.”

You remembered that day. Everything had gone wrong even though you followed the recipe to a tee! He had walked in on you mid tantrum and made life better. If he thought you looked angelic covered in sugar and chocolate then imagine what he thought when you made an effort.

“You always leave me speechless.”

He kissed your temple.

~~

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow.” You spoke seriously.

Logan looked up from the papers he was grading. His eyes squinting slightly in a silent question.

“I never meant to cause you any pain.” You injected sadness into your voice, it cracked slightly.

“What's happening?” He looked really worried, taking off his reading glasses.

“I only wanted one time to see you laughing.” You used your hands animatedly.

“Y/N?”

“I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “You had me worried. I was trying to figure out if I'd missed a birthday or an anniversary.”

“I can't grade these papers. The song is rattling around in my head.” You thunked your head against the desk. “Why did we say we'd help Jean again?”

“You told her you could grade more papers in a day then she could.”

“Pathetic fallacy this, juxtaposition that.” You groaned. “Why do I get so competitive?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke honestly. “We could be spending our evening any other way but you have us reading shitty analysises on An Inspector Calls.”

You didn't answer him. You wouldn't let him goad you. Wouldn't stoop to his level, despite wanting so badly to stoop in front of him. Biting the inside of your cheek you stood. “Nope, sorry, I have to play the record.”

He watched you wander to the shared pile of music. Your LPs and his CDs intermingled in the corner of his room.

“Is the Prince album in here?” You flicked through the LPs.

“All our music is. Did you let anyone borrow it?”

“I don't know.” You knelt, opening the cupboard underneath the record player, he panicked, jumping up.

“Don't look in-”

“Ha!” You waved the cover smiling but your enthusiasm ebbed away making room for suspicion. “Don't look in here?”

A hand stretched his face. “Please don't ask questions.”

“If you're hiding a present somewhere make sure it's not somewhere I'd look, Howlett.” You closed the doors. “That's like the first rule.”

“I don't have that many hiding places.” He defended. “We live together.”

That was technically true and untrue.

You still had a room.

You just spent most of your time in his.

“I can vacate i-”

“Shut up.” He took the record from your hands and secured the vinyl onto the spindle and placed the needle accordingly. He flipped the machine on and the last chords of ‘baby I'm a star’ played before the familiar strum.

He offered you his palm and you took it, easing up from the floor. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

The two of you swayed to the music. It was the last song on this side of the record so you'd have to change it soon but just leaning against him, listening to Prince sing and play his guitar was heavenly.

Logan's nose was buried in your hair. He would tell you later on that he wouldn't have minded if you found what he was hiding.

He would've just got down on his knee then and there.

He didn't want to propose publicly but he wanted to make the day special. Make you feel loved like you deserved.

\\

“Y/N?” You turned your head. You were upstairs. Outside of Logan's room.

It was empty. Unoccupied.

“Storm.” She looked amazing. Had she even aged? Maybe she was born later in this universe.

“The professor asked me to check on you.” She spoke with ease but it wasn't the friendly chatter you were used to.

“Yeah sorry, I've just been wandering like a ghost around this mansion.” Your cheeks warmed. “I'm absolutely fine, though, thank you for checking up on me.”

Part 14

@littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @twinkywink @ravenmedows @electricreader @racetrackheart @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 2) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 2

When the ER doctors ask you how you got hurt, you lie. You know you shouldn’t lie, know that Tenko’s dangerous, know that his quirk, whatever it is, is deadly on contact. Some part of you thinks you should be scared of the possibility that Tenko will come back to finish the job. But at the same time, you know you’re the one who chased him. You’re the one who wouldn’t let him go. If you hadn’t run after him, none of this would have happened.

This, it turns out, is a wrist that requires a specialized healing quirk to fix, and a bruised larynx that makes you sound like you’ve been deepthroating a lead pipe. “Whoever you’re protecting, you shouldn’t,” an old, sort of grizzled nurse says severely after the fifth time you’ve repeated your lie. “Another few pounds of pressure on your throat and you’d be dead.”

Tenko was fine with killing you, at least at first. You’re not sure what changed his mind, or why he let you go, and in spite of the fact that he gave you injuries severe enough for an overnight in the ER, you can’t help wondering what happened to him. The friend you knew was nothing like that. He got frustrated sometimes, like everyone else, but he was kind. And hurting people? He wouldn’t. His older sister did more playground fighting than he did. In fact, when you think about it – you close your eyes against the fluorescent lights in your hospital room and try to fend off the memory. You can’t quite do it, because it’s crystal clear. Tenko spent more time getting hurt than doing the hurting.

If Tenko and Hana got out the door first on school days, they’d wait outside your house on the sidewalk for you to come out, so you could all walk to school together. If you were ready first, you’d wait for them. One morning you were waiting, tapping your feet, fiddling with your umbrella because the weather looked like rain even if the forecast didn’t say so, when you heard voices. One raised grown-up voice and one small anxious one, from inside the house.

You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you didn’t know how not to. Hana had a cold, so she was staying home. Tenko had wanted to say goodbye to her before he left, but their dad said no, and when Tenko stuck his head in the door anyway, his dad yelled. And was still yelling, over whatever Tenko was trying to say, until Tenko stumbled out onto the sidewalk, without a raincoat or an umbrella and scratching the skin around his eyes.

Or wiping his eyes, maybe. He started scrubbing at them frantically when he saw you. “Don’t look –”

You turned around, and as you did, you felt the first drops of rain. “Are you okay?”

“Hana’s sick.” Tenko sniffled. “I went in her room when I wasn’t supposed to.”

I heard, you almost said. But you didn’t. You just asked again. “Are you okay?”

“We have to walk or we’ll be late.” Tenko started walking, past you, and you followed him. The rain was falling harder, spattering Tenko’s shirt and his backpack. “It wasn’t supposed to rain.”

“Here.” You put up your umbrella and hurried to catch him, holding it over both your heads. You didn’t have a choice but to look at him now, and you saw how puffy his eyes were. “I bet Hana was happy.”

Tenko nodded. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sniffled again, and when his hand fell back to his side, it brushed against yours. Tenko cringed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You linked your pinky finger with his. “I swear.”

Tenko’s finger hooked tighter around yours. “Only since you swore.”

He had a cold the next day, and so did you. You cried until your mom went over to his house to apologize for you getting Tenko and Hana sick. So this isn’t the first time you’ve lied to protect Tenko. It might just be the first time you’re getting away with it.

You’re out of the ER at eight in the morning, and by nine-thirty you’re at work. You’re a medical assistant in a network of urgent care clinics that serve low-income people, uninsured people, or people who don’t want to risk going to a standard hospital. Your friends call your workplace Villains, Inc., and you’re not going to say you haven’t met your share – but you also meet a lot of people, and you think it’s good for you. Sometimes it feels like there are two Japans, sharing space in the same territory. One full of pretty, shiny heroes and happy, law-abiding civilians and uncomplicatedly evil villains, where everybody has a quirk and everybody’s always doing their best. And then there’s the other Japan, populated by everybody who doesn’t belong in the first one.

They say one in five people are quirkless, but you see at least fifty people a day at work, and the number of quirkless people on your side of Japan is a lot higher. Quirkless children have the school system to nominally protect them, but there’s no such system for quirkless adults. A lot of them are pushed to the margins, losing jobs to those with quirks, even if their quirk is useless for the jobs in question. Even when quirkless people can get work, it’s at a lower level than a quirked person could get. Your applications to nursing school were rejected, even though your grades matched the standard. You’re lucky that you’d already found an apprenticeship, in a workplace willing to sponsor your education and train you on the job.

You’ve been working here for two years, part-time as an apprentice and CNA in high school and full-time since you graduated. You’re a medical assistant now, which means you can do a whole bunch of things – take history, check vitals, draw blood, give vaccines. You have a specific exam room you work out of, and the newest workers, the ones still in high school, bring patients from the waiting room to you. From there, you figure out where to route them. To an exam room with a nurse or a physician, to the lab for blood tests, to Imaging, to the ER if their injuries or illness are too severe to be treated here. You’ve only had to route somebody to the morgue once.

You’ve just delivered your most recent patient to an exam room with a doctor, and you’re in the process of documenting it in the chart when a message pops up from one of your coworkers at the front desk. FOF. Can you handle it?

FOF – freak out front. You don’t love that acronym. How F are we talking?

Creepy-looking + mean. The new kid messed up, but not that bad.

You’re not in the mood for difficult patients today. Your throat is sore and your wrist is itching and the turtleneck you’re wearing to cover the bruises on your neck is a little too tight. But you’re the most senior medical assistant working today, and even if you weren’t, dealing with difficult people is sort of your specialty. You did a great job last night right up until you decided to chase after Tenko.

Nobody’s perfect, and you learned your lesson, didn’t you? You sigh, wincing at how it feels, and respond. Send them over.

You go back to your chart, trying desperately to finish it before the new patient arrives, and you’re just about to send it to your supervisor when the CNA knocks on the door. “Come in!”

The door opens and the patient steps through, shutting it behind them. “Just a second,” you say, deciding you’re going to finish your documentation if it kills you. “You can have a seat and I’ll be with you as soon as I just –”

“Your voice sounds weird.”

You almost choke on your own spit. You look up from your computer and find Tenko staring at you from across the exam room.

Between the fluorescent lights of the convenience stores and the shadowy darkness of the street, your encounter with Tenko last night had the sense of a fever dream or an acid trip – shiny around the edges, not quite real. Seeing him in broad daylight in your dingy exam room is unnerving beyond words. He looks even more like your best friend than he did before, but there are more differences, too – a scar over Tenko’s mouth, another scar over his right eye. Whatever skin condition he had around his eyes as a child, it’s gotten worse, so much worse that it’s obliterated his eyebrows and spread to his forehead. He’s wearing a black hoodie, maybe the same hoodie he was wearing last night. And he’s staring at you.

You thought there was no way he’d come back to finish the job. You thought you were safe. You thought wrong. Your voice comes out in an airless whisper, like you’re still sprawled on the concrete with his arm across your throat. “What are you doing here?”

“It says outside you have to treat everybody. Is that true?” Tenko’s voice is abrupt, bordering on rude, and he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Your voice sounds weird. And that shirt is stupid. You wouldn’t sound so weird if the collar wasn’t –”

He’s reaching towards you, and you’re frozen, even as your mind screams at you to get out of the way. Tenko’s index finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck and pulls it down. His eyes narrow at first, turning his expression sharp and mean. Then they widen once more, past where they were before, until he looks more like the Tenko you knew than you’ve seen yet. “Who did that?”

You don’t remember your best friend being this stupid. “Who do you think?”

“I didn’t do that,” Tenko says, but his eyes dart to one side, the way they used to do when he knew he was wrong. A second later he changes his tune. “You made me do it. If you hadn’t chased me –”

You shouldn’t have chased him, but he didn’t have to choke you and burn the skin off your wrist. You look Tenko over and change the subject. You don’t want to argue. You don’t want him to get mad. “Aren’t you missing something?”

He gives you a puzzled look, and you mime a hand covering your face. “Father,” Tenko says. He calls it Father? That’s – weird. “He’s here.”

He unhooks his finger from your collar, reaches into his hoodie pocket, extracts the hand, and secures it over his face. It should look ridiculous, but instead it’s terrifying. “I can’t wear him in daylight. Master says he’s too recognizable yet.”

None of those words make any sense, and you’ve lost your ability to speak. “It says you treat everybody here. You have to. Right?” Tenko asks. You nod wordlessly. “So treat me.”

“Um –” You get the syllable out of your mouth, watching Tenko’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of your voice. “Do you have your intake form? They would have given it to you when you checked in.”

Tenko’s mouth twists. “The brat at the front desk didn’t give me anything. She said she could fill it in herself, since she knew I was here for dermatology.”

You think back to your coworker’s message. You’d say the new kid messed up pretty bad. “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have made that assumption.”

“You did too. Didn’t you? I bet you thought I came in here for help with my disgusting skin.”

“No,” you say. “I think you’re probably coming in for your wrist.”

It’s the only thing that makes sense to you, short of him tracking you down to finish the job, and when he’s reached for you or taken the hand out of his pocket, he’s used his left hand. If your memory’s correct, Tenko’s right-handed. “It looked like you hurt it when you fell,” you continue. Tenko stares at you. “Are there any other issues you’d like us to investigate while you’re here?”

Tenko shakes his head. Okay. Nineteen-year-old male, here for suspected injury to wrist. What’s next in your exam workflow? A process you run through at least a hundred times per week has exited your mind completely. You glance around the room uselessly and your eyes land on your blood pressure cuff. “Okay. I’m going to take your vitals.”

“Why do you need those?” Tenko looks suspicious. “Stay away from me.”

“I need your blood pressure, your pulse rate, and your pulse oxygen level. None of those are invasive tests.” Not usually, anyway – given how Tenko reacted the last time you came anywhere close to touching him, you’re pretty sure that pushing the point here could get you killed. “Or just the pulse oxygen. That goes on your finger.”

You take it out, only to remember about Tenko’s quirk. Tenko notices your hesitation. He sneers behind the hand. “Don’t worry. It only works with all five fingers.”

Good to know. You clip the pulse oxygen monitor onto his middle finger and turn back to your computer. Even without looking at his wrist, an x-ray is standard protocol, and you need to get Tenko into the queue right away. The less time he spends here, the less danger everybody else is in. It might be too late for you already.

“What do you think?” Tenko asks. You look at him. “The quirk.”

“You’ve got one.” You’re not really sure what else to say.

“And you don’t. Still?” Tenko raises his eyebrows. You nod. “And you still don’t care.”

“No,” you say. “I never cared about not having one. Only about how people treat me.”

“I bet they treat you like shit,” Tenko says. He sounds gleeful, but his expression doesn’t match his tone of voice. It’s weird. “If I ask you why you’re here instead of some fancy clinic on the nice side of town, you’ll probably lie and say you love it here. But you’re here because nowhere else will take somebody who doesn’t have a quirk. Isn’t that right?”

“I do like it here.” You aren’t lying. The pulse ox monitor beeps and you take it back from Tenko, recording the reading on your computer. “And I’m here because nowhere else will take me. Let me see your wrist.”

Tenko’s had his other hand in the front pocket of his hoodie this whole time. He draws it out slowly and extends it towards you. You’re not qualified to diagnose anything, but you can see that it’s bruised and swollen, and the skin is hot when you touch it. Tenko hisses as your fingers make contact. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if there’s an obvious break.” You shouldn’t – he’ll be headed to Imaging no matter what – but you don’t want anyone else to come into contact with Tenko unless they have to. Tenko’s wrist is swollen to the point that you can barely feel anything beneath it. “Were you resting this last night? Or using it?”

“I had games to play.”

Tenko’s a gamer now. Huh. “That’s probably why it’s so sore. And so swollen. No more gaming with that hand until it heals.”

“You’re not a doctor. Don’t tell me what to do.”

“The doctor’s going to say the same thing.” You glance away at your screen, checking your position in the Imaging queue. There’s a chest x-ray ahead of you, with a sick kid, and those always take a while. “I’m going to get you some ice for this. It’ll help with the x-rays if the swelling goes down. Stay here.”

“No.” Tenko gets to his feet, pulling his wrist out of your grip, grimacing as the motion jars the injury. “You think I don’t know what you’ll do? You’re just dying to go to the cops.”

“I had a chance to go to the cops. Last night, when I went to the hospital for this.” You gesture at your throat, and Tenko’s expression twists behind the hand. “I didn’t go then. Why would I go now?”

Tenko stares at you. You hold his gaze. You’ve never lost a staring contest in your life, and you’re not planning to start today – and after a long moment, Tenko averts his eyes. “You can go,” he says shortly. “But I won’t use it unless you get some for your neck.”

Does he feel guilty? Is that why he’s saying that? You decide not to think about it too hard. He’s your patient right now. If this is what it’ll take for him to ice his injury, you’ll happily slap a bag of ice on your throat.

But once you’ve brought the ice back, and you’re holding yours to your throat while Tenko applies his gingerly to his wrist, you’re out of other things to do. It’s just you and your best friend, who tried to kill you last night, sitting in a room together. Tenko still has the hand over his face. Your wrist is still itching. Before last night, when you still had the luxury of imagining what it would be like to meet Tenko again after all this time, you didn’t imagine it would be like this. It makes you sad.

You’re expecting silence until Tenko gets called back to Imaging, but to your surprise, Tenko speaks up. “Your parents had three more kids,” he says. You nod. “Why?”

“To be fair to them, they thought they were only having one.” You don’t like being fair to them about this, given what happened afterwards, even if there’s no way they could have known. “It was triplets, and they were pretty sick. They got the same kind of quirk as the rest of the family, so they made us all feel how they felt. Which was – bad.”

Tenko doesn’t say anything. You shouldn’t be talking about your family, not when his family is dead. Does he even know what happened to his family? You’re not going to ask. “Sorry.”

“Did you have to take care of them?”

“What?”

“The stupid triplets. Did you have to take care of them, too?” Tenko glares from behind the hand. “I remember you always had to before. You never stayed as long as you wanted to.”

“Oh,” you say, startled. “No, um – I had to get home. I wanted to.”

“My birthday party. Your mom came to get you early and you said you weren’t crying but you were.” Tenko is still glaring at you, and you find yourself shrinking back in your chair. “I remember. Don’t lie.”

“You didn’t remember last night,” you say, but he must have remembered something, or he wouldn’t have spoken up when you mentioned how many siblings you have. “Tenko, what –”

“That’s not my name. Anymore.” Tenko scratches at his neck lefthanded. “Master gave me a new one. Tomura.”

“Tomura,” you repeat. “Is that what I should call you?”

Tenko – Tomura? – keeps scratching, clawing up red scrapes in his skin. Then his hand falls back down. “Tenko. You should call me Tenko.” He averts his eyes from yours again. “You knew me before.”

Before what? You can’t decide whether to ask, and Tenko makes the decision for you. “I knew you before, too. When you were a kid whose parents wouldn’t let her stay long enough at a birthday party for a fucking piece of cake.”

“You brought me some. The next day.” Your voice is small. “I remember that. It was the nicest thing anybody ever did for me.”

Tenko’s shoulders stiffen. “That’s pathetic.”

“It was the nicest thing back then,” you say. “Nicer stuff has happened since then.”

Has it? It probably has, but right now your mind is full, all your memories of Tenko flooding to the forefront. There aren’t many. Not nearly enough. Three years at most – your memory is good enough to pick up some things from when you were a toddler, and you and Tenko met when you were barely old enough to speak full sentences. But you talked. You always talked. You talked to each other about everything. Right now it feels like there’s nothing in the world you could say to each other, and it breaks your heart.

Your computer pings, snapping you out of it and giving you something else to fixate on. “They’re ready for us in Imaging. I’ll walk you.”

“What, you think I can’t walk by myself?”

“I want to keep an eye on you,” you say, and Tenko scoffs. “Come on.”

He takes the hand down off his face and tucks it away again before exiting the exam room. He pulls his hood up, too, shuffling along at your side too close to be a shadow. You pass more than a few of your coworkers, all of whom give you pitying looks. They feel bad for you, but they don’t know enough to feel bad for the right reason. It makes you angry, just like it made you angry to hear Tenko’s father shout at him, a useless anger that felt too large for your tiny body. You couldn’t protect him then, and he wouldn’t let you do it now, but the urge is there, as insane as it might be. He almost killed you last night. And here you are wanting to save him.

The x-rays go quickly. A few different angles, and then you and Tenko stand there while the doctor on shift interprets them. “No fracture,” he reports. “Just a bad sprain. We’ll send you home with a brace to wear. Just take it easy for a few days.”

Tenko jerks his chin downwards. It would be charitable to call it a nod. The doctor makes a quick note in his chart and turns away, trusting you to dig up a brace and conclude the visit. Tenko won’t ask, so you will. “What about for pain?”

The doctor turns, raises an eyebrow. “The patient didn’t ask.”

“The patient wouldn’t have come in if it didn’t hurt.” You’re insane. You must be, to help someone who hurt you, except you’re not thinking of last night, you’re thinking of today – of your best friend, who’s not your friend anymore, but remembers you enough to be angry on your behalf. Who brought you a slice of birthday cake the next day because you couldn’t stay long enough to have one. “What would you recommend?”

“Ice it at least three times a day, and double up on NSAIDs,” the doctor says finally. “The OTC brands will be fine. If you rest it properly it should be healed by next week. Is there anything else?”

You glance at Tenko. Tenko shakes his head. “Feel better soon,” the doctor says. “Come back for a follow-up if anything worsens.”

Tenko trails after you as you retrieve a brace from the supply cabinet. “What the hell were all those acronyms?”

“NSAIDs – nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs,” you explain. “Things like ibuprofen and acetaminophen. OTC means over the counter – things you can buy without a prescription. Any convenience store should have them.”

You find a brace in the correct size and turn to find Tenko already holding out his arm. It surprises you, to the extent that you freeze for a moment, but then you snap out of it and secure the brace around his wrist. It’s simple to avoid his quirk, now that you think about it. All you have to do is make sure all five fingers don’t touch you at once.

Tenko grimaces as you fasten the last of the Velcro straps on the brace. “It’s tight.”

“It needs to be tight to support your wrist,” you say. “If it hurts, loosen it a little bit, but not so much that it slides. Do you have questions about anything else?”

Tenko shakes his head. “He didn’t say I couldn’t play games.”

“He said you had to rest your wrist,” you say. “You can play point-and-clicks. With your other hand.”

Tenko snorts. “I’m not playing point-and-clicks.”

“Better than nothing.” They’re the only type of video game you’re good at. Sometimes you and your friends make a drinking game out of them, doing a shot every time you find a clue or solve a puzzle. “If there’s nothing else, I can go ahead and walk you out.”

It’s quiet for a second. Tenko is looking at you, and you look back, unsure of what else to do. Part of you wants him gone as fast as possible, but it’s a smaller part of you than it should be. The rest of you wants your best friend, who remembers the things you don’t talk about, who saw you through the smile you knew to paste on even at five years old. You want to find out what happened to him. You want to know where he’s been. You want to know if he knew you were here, if that’s why he came to this clinic instead of any of the others. You want to know if it’s going to be another fifteen years before you see him again.

For a moment you think Tenko will say something, will come up with something else to stretch this out. Instead he glances left, then right. “Which way do I go to get out of here?”

“I’ll walk you out,” you say again. You lead him down the hall to the door that opens onto the street, fighting the lump in your throat. There’s a spiel you’re supposed to give to patients as they leave, but you can’t get it out of your mouth.

Tenko stands there a moment, then pushes the door open lefthanded, and something inside you snaps loose. You catch his sleeve and he turns to stare at you, a sneer already beginning to twist his features. You’ve got maybe three seconds before he hurts you again, and you have to use them wisely. “I won’t ask about the rest of it. I’m not going to follow you again,” you say. “I know we won’t see each other after this. I just need to know. Are you okay, wherever you are?”

You’re expecting him to mock you, but instead the sneer falls from his face. He looks like himself again, the part of him you knew best. He doesn’t ask why you care, and you realize it’s because he knows. He knew last night when he let you go instead of killing you. You’re his best friend. Of course you care.

“Yeah. I –” Tenko coughs, clears his throat. His voice is back to its usual rasp when he speaks. “I’m okay.”

You know he’s lying. You think he might know that you know, too. But he pulls his arm away slightly, not yanking it from your grip but making it clear that he wants to leave, and you let him go.

The door swings shut behind him, and you turn and head back to your exam room, working on documenting his visit in the chart until your eyes go blurry. You didn’t sleep at all last night. You won’t sleep well tonight, either. You know already that you’ll be up late into the night, retracing every second in your head, trying to figure out what went wrong. Trying to guess what happened. Wondering, like you always wonder about Tenko – if he’s alive, if he’s all right.

You have answers to the first two questions now. Other than that, the things that keep you up tonight will be the same as they’ve been since you were six years old. Other than the scar around your wrist and the bruises around your throat, nothing’s changed at all.

[silverynight]

Welcome home

<---Previous

Chapter 2

Since Katsuki goes really often to Izuku's side of the building, his coworkers are now used to his presence and don't even react when he's there. The first few times though, they were slightly scared because of his reputation; sure, when he gets angry he can be scary, but he's not really a bad person.

"Almost done, nerd?" Katsuki leans over his cubicle, looking particularly smug that day.

"Yes," Izuku smiles back at him; Aizawa texted him back about the other pro hero and said it didn't matter if they didn't have a name yet. He mentioned something about calling the new head of Endeavor's agency himself.

The green haired man shakes his head at his computer; he knows Aizawa is irritated about not having everything ready for the new mission, even though he says it's fine.

"Did you like it?"

Katsuki's words bring Izuku back to the present, and he looks a bit confused when he notices the red eyes staring at his neck.

But then he remembers the device.

"Yes!" He grins before his momentary excitement disappears. "How did you know about this?"

There's a moment of hesitation, but then Katsuki smirks again.

"Who doesn't?"

Izuku presses his lips together, having the weird feeling that he's missing something, but he has a few files to write.

When he's done, he makes sure everything in his station is in the right place before picking his backpack and hoodie up; with a smile, he walks out of his cubicle and says goodbye to his coworkers.

"Finally! You took ages!"

"You could've gone to your apartment, you know," Izuku smiles, watching as Katsuki shakes his head at him.

The pro hero could've left, but Izuku is glad he didn't; he finds it oddly sweet when he waits for him. He does that every time their schedules aline, which is not that often.

"Midoriya!" One of his coworkers stops him, prompting Katsuki to narrow his eyes at her immediately. "I was wondering if you'd like to–"

Katsuki puts an arm around Izuku's shoulders then, and she stops mid sentence; her eyes notice the necklace.

"Yeah? What is it?" He insists kindly. Perhaps she needs help with something; Izuku likes to help his coworkers. He has time, Katsuki can wait a bit.

She shakes her head while blushing.

"It's nothing! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Alright, if you're sure!" However, Izuku is already being dragged towards the exit. "Kacchan, you're really impatient today..."

"I don't like her."

Izuku rolls his eyes, but he's glad they're heading to the parking lot now and she can't hear him.

"So where are we heading today?" He asks, feeling himself getting more hungry within each second.

"Wherever you want."

"I chose the last time we went out."

"So?"

This is exactly one of the reasons most people online get everything wrong about pro hero Dynamight; Katsuki is actually very kind and always puts Izuku first.

He's grateful they decided to start over, and now they're good friends.

"Kacchan..." Izuku trails off as he notices the scratches and bruises on the pro hero's arms. Even though he can't see his back, he knows he has a couple there as well. "Why didn't you let the paramedics patch you up?"

As they get out of the parking lot, Katsuki looks at Izuku momentarily with an amused smile on his face before facing ahead again. He takes one of his hands off the steering wheel to pinch Izuku's cheek.

"They usually take ages," he says as if that's a good response. "Besides, I'm fine."

"They are there for a reason, you know?" Izuku sighs. The concern is obvious in his tone. He doesn't like it when Katsuki doesn't take care of himself. "If they're just scratches, they probably wouldn't have taken too long."

"I wanted to see you."

The sincerity in his voice makes Izuku blush and look away; of course, it's normal for a friend to worry about him, but sometimes Katsuki has this look in his red eyes... it's so intense it makes Izuku feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"I'm not going anywhere," Izuku says after a while. "Please, let others take care of you."

"I leave that to you."

Izuku sighs, and Katsuki chuckles in response before stroking the other man's cheek with his thumb.

"Fine. We're going to your apartment then," he mumbles after a while.

"So you can patch me up?" Katsuki has a triumphant smirk on his face that makes Izuku narrow his eyes. He shouldn't be happy about getting hurt! "Nice. I'll make katsudon then."

"Really?" The asks, feeling his bad humor vanish in seconds.

"Of course, nerd."

***

It's a good thing he has done this a couple of times, otherwise he'd be really flustered at the moment.

Katsuki has taken a shower, and now he's patiently waiting for Izuku, sitting at the edge of his bed, with only a towel around his waist.

Even though they are friends, Izuku is not blind and admits the pro hero is very attractive; it seems the years of training and working as a pro hero had paid off because Izuku is sure his chest and back are only muscle mass now.

He's also taller and broader than Izuku; of course, Izuku goes to the gym, but he's still thin and small compared to his friend.

To push those thoughts away, Izuku goes to where Katsuki keeps his first aid kit before walking back in the bedroom, relieved that the bruises and scratches are only on Katsuki's back this time. That way he doesn't get to see Izuku's blush.

Actually, it's not only that, but the way Katsuki goes quiet and keeps staring at Izuku whenever he cleans his wounds that make him flustered. Despite being loud and grumpy when it comes to someone patching him up, Katsuki calms down and relaxes when Izuku does it.

And those red eyes never leave Izuku's face, which is why he's glad this time Katsuki's back is the only part that is hurt.

When he's almost done, he hears Katsuki sigh, and for a moment he worries he has another injury he hasn't told Izuku about.

"I'd like for you to patch me up for the rest of our lives."

"Of course, Kacchan!" Izuku smiles, taking a few steps back and moving around so he can finally face him. "We're friends after all!"

Katsuki doesn't smile back, but he nods, looking more tired than ever.

"I think I should leave you to rest; you had a long day at work..."

"Nonsense! Do you think I can't handle a simple katsudon?"

He's back to normal, Izuku thinks, relieved. Maybe he imagined the whole thing.

Chuckling, he goes back to the living room and sits on the couch while Katsuki changes. Izuku is kinda relieved when he sees him wearing pants and a shirt.

"I think you should stay," Katsuki mumbles then, rubbing the back of his neck.

"If this is about my apartment I–"

"No. I mean, I hate your place," the pro hero admits, cutting him off. "But this is not about that; I think it'd be nice for you to... sleep over tonight, like we used to do. And tomorrow you can go back to your shitty building."

Despite the numerous insults to his apartment, Izuku smiles back.

"That'd be nice! No, wait, I don't have extra clothes with me..."

"That's okay, I'll let you borrow some of mine to sleep in and we can throw that into the washer machine, I have to wash a couple of shirts too anyway. They'll be ready for tomorrow."

"Can we watch an All Might documentary while we have dinner?" Izuku asks, already excited about the plan.

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"Sure, you nerd."

"Great! I'll take a shower!"

He chooses one of the guests' rooms; yes, Katsuki's apartment has a couple of those, a laundry room and three bathrooms. He has never told Izuku how much he had to pay for his apartment, but he can definitely take a guess.

When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds a black shirt and shorts. They're really comfortable, even though Izuku is swimming in the shirt.

The kitchen smells delicious already.

"Do you need help?"

A couple of things happen when Katsuki turns around to look at him; he drops the chopsticks he's holding, curses and turns bright red as Izuku rushes towards him.

"Are you hurt, Kacchan? Do you need to rest?"

"No," he grumbles, looking away from Izuku. "I just got distracted. I'm fine!"

"Do you want me to help you?"

Katsuki's cheeks turn pink again, but this time he narrows his eyes.

"No, you're just a distraction."

Izuku pouts, but he leaves and sits on the couch. His mistake is making himself too comfortable because the next thing he knows is that someone is calling out his name and stroking his cheek.

"I didn't spend my time making this so you didn't eat it," Katsuki mumbles, irritated. Although Izuku notices concern written all over his face as he blinks his eyes open. "Besides, I know you haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

Izuku is too tired to ask him how he knows that; he moves a bit before taking the bowl and chopsticks in his hands.

It smells delicious.

"Thank you, Kacchan!"

"You're welcome," the pro hero smiles fondly at him before adding: "Now scoot over!"

"Do you have tea, Kacchan?"

"Already made you a cup."

"You're the best!"

"Of course I am!"

After he finishes his katsudon, Izuku curls up on the couch; he must've been more tired than he thought because he only manages to watch half of the documentary.

When he wakes up though, he's back in the guest room, lying on the bed. There's a mouthwatering smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen so he walks out as fast as he can.

"Good morning, nerd!" Katsuki smirks; Izuku can tell he's in a very good mood. "Your hair looks like a bird's nest."

"When does it not?" He mumbles, moving closer to the pancakes. He's not hundred percent awake yet so he's not sure the chuckle he heard came from Katsuki. "Honey?"

"Yes, baby?"

Izuku suddenly feels very much awake now. His face turns pink as Katsuki starts laughing like the devil he is.

"I-I meant the bottle of honey!" He stammers. "I want to know where you k-keep it!"

"I know, I know," the pro hero grins, still enjoying his little joke. Izuku pouts at him, but that makes him laugh again. "Third cabinet, nerd."

Izuku forgives him because he put blueberries in his pancakes and those are his favorites.

***

He has a meeting with Eraserhead or Aizawa (as he knows him) that morning; the first time he met the man, Izuku got really nervous, but he realized quickly that even though he's a strict boss, he's fair and kind.

"Midoriya, there's been a change of plans," he says as soon as he walks into his office. "Pro hero Shoto is coming in a couple of hours to learn about the missing students' situation, and I want you to gather all the information you have on the case and explain everything to him."

So the pro hero they chose to send is Todoroki Shoto himself.

"Sure! Do you have his contact information? I need to select a few documents so he can–"

"Actually, I'd like for you to explain it to him in person. Time's running out and I think you're the one who knows more about this case at the moment. You can use this office."

"Oh," Izuku mumbles, slightly nervous. He's about to meet the number two and he doesn't want to make a fool of himself. "Sure!"

It's alright, he has to push his fanboy self away for a moment. He needs to be professional about this.

***

As he gets all the information necessary for the case ready; he makes sure to reread the key points so he doesn't miss anything important during his conversation with pro hero Shoto.

Alright, he's slightly nervous about it; the pro hero with mismatched hair usually looks serious during his interviews and even though Izuku has the feeling that he doesn't quite know how to interact with the public, he's also afraid that he's a person with very little patience.

And Izuku tends to get on people's nerves when he rambles, or at least that's what his old classmates used to say about him.

He was a very solitary person during high-school because of that; he knows it's different now and that people actually like him, but sometimes his insecurities come back, especially whenever he remembers how some of his classmates treated him for being quirkless.

He's glad Katsuki wasn't there to see that.

Izuku closes his eyes for a moment, reminding himself that he's not in school anymore; things have changed. People don't treat quirkless individuals like that anymore.

Well, most of them don't.

He's sure pro hero Shoto doesn't; so far all heroes he has met have been really kind and good to him.

Especially Katsuki, but that's not a surprise since they're friends now.

"Are you alright, Midoriya? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

Izuku blinks his eyes open again and mentally thanks Bushida for talking to him; he's at work, he should be focusing, pro hero Shoto will arrive soon.

"No, I'm fine!" He smiles, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "How can I help you?"

It's weird to see her there, since she's from human resources.

"I don't want to bother you, but they told me you got your device," she mumbles, pointing at the necklace. "And I just wanted to remind you of the agency policy regarding relationships. Surely, my coworker mentioned you had to fill certain documents in case you started dating someone working for the agency as well, right?"

Izuku blinks a couple of times and tries to process the information she just gave to him. Yes, he knows about that already, but he's not sure why she's bringing it up now or what his device has anything to do with it.

"Yes, I know, but I'm not dating anyone at the moment."

She chuckles, just like Hatsume did when he asked about Dynamight's symbol.

"Good one."

"No, I'm not joking..." He insists, trying to make her understand with a look. "I'm single."

"But Dynamight gave you a device to keep you safe!"

He blushes. This is a serious misunderstanding he needs to fix immediately.

"No, this is from the agency! Hatsume put it on me the other day, I'm sure everyone has one–"

"No," she shakes her head and shows him her own bracelet, the one she said was a gift from her fiancé, another pro hero working for the agency. "These are benefits the agency offers pro heroes in case their families and significant others need help. They can get the standard ones for free, but if they want to design their own to make it original or romantic, like my fiancé did for me, they get charged extra for it. Yours looks even more expensive than mine."

The blush deepens and spreads down his neck. Izuku shakes his head. This is about his apartment, isn't it? Katsuki is still worried about that.

He needs to have a serious conversation with him soon.

"L-Listen, I know what this looks like, but Kacchan... I mean Dynamight! We are just friends. He just... gets overprotective sometimes!"

Bushida looks at him like she can't quite believe what he's saying.

"Well, okay. But if you two start dating, tell him you need to fill the documents I sent to your email, sign them and then send them back to me, alright?"

"Sure!" Izuku nods. "But that won't be necessary!"

"Whatever you say, pretty!"

He wonders if he should text Katsuki telling him he wants to talk as soon as possible, but then he gets Aizawa's message.

He's here.

I'm coming! He texts back before grabbing a few files he printed beforehand... he thinks those will be enough to show pro hero Shoto.

His conversation with Katsuki can wait.

***

Next--->

Patreon

[margotw10bis]

Pretty Baby. KNJ [m]

sugardaddy!namjoon x sugarbaby!reader

Genre: smut; short-story

Words: 2.2k

Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"… But when did it all begin?

Warnings: rough sex; unprotected sex; oral sex (f. receiving); Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"

1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)

This part takes place before chapter 1.

Namjoon has always thought your first encounter was that night at a bar when he asked you to be his sugar baby. Little did he know there was, in fact, an unofficial encounter, several months before that.

It was at Incheon Airport, while you were waiting to pick Jimin up after a trip with his childhood friend Jungkook. You were actually grumpy when you saw that his plane had 20 minutes delay. But all of that went forgotten when you heard some sobbing nearby. You looked all around you and noticed a little boy, maybe three or four years old. He was crying but he was all alone. You frowned and was ready to walk to him when a tall, brawny and blond hair man kneeled down in front of the boy.

You stepped closer, ready to jump in if the man had bad intentions. However, you heard him talking with the sweetest tone possible despite his deep voice.

"Are you lost?" The man asked

The boy nodded, crying louder. Your heart broke a little to witness him this sad and scared.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna help you. I promise I gonna find your parents" His savior said, putting a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder

His palm was so big on the small child's body that you wondered if the man has ever been a child before. His aura was nothing but goodness and the way the little boy stopped crying proved you right. The stranger, of whom you could see the face now, was the most handsome man you've ever seen. His eyes, which you surely thought could be very intimidating in other situations, were so pretty in their brown shade. His lips were pulp and the cute dimples on his cheeks when he smiled were like a Cupid's arrow entering your heart. Was that love at first sight?

The man asked the boy for his name.

"Seo-joon" He answered with a hiccup

"Let me see your bag, maybe there is your parents number"

You could totally see that the man was trying to be as delicate as possible and it made you giggle by the sweetness. He was definitely daddy material — only if you knew how much...

The backpack of the little child had, indeed, a tag with his parents' information. The man dialed the number and a panicked voice answered the call.

"Hello, I'm with your son. Don't worry, he is okay. We are in the arrival hall, near the information panels"

Seo-joon's parents arrived quickly after that, running to their son. They were crying and thanking the stranger at the same time. An embarrassed smile grew on the man's face. You wanted to talk to him but he walked away before you could do it.

You had been thinking about him for months but what could you do? You knew nothing about him, not even his name. But luck was on your side since Jimin, without knowing it, gave you the opportunity to see the man again when he literally dragged your ass to a luxurious bar. At first, you didn't want to go but your best friend insisted so much that you gave up.

You were sitting at the bar, waiting for your drinks when a man sat down next to you. When you turned your head and saw the stranger from the airport, your heart stopped and your throat went dry. He was even more handsome than from your memories.

He introduced himself and you did the same. Namjoon started to flirt with and you flirted back. But you surely didn't imagine what he would say next:

"Look, I'm going to be honest. You're very pretty but I'm not looking for a girlfriend" You remember that your heart broke a little when he said that "But, if you're okay if it, we can have a different kind of relationship"

"What kind?" You asked, completely dumbfounded

"A sugar daddy/baby one" Namjoon answered, looking straight into your eyes

What?! You had never, in your entire life, thought about having a sugar daddy. You didn't even need the money, your current job was paying you enough. And Namjoon wasn't so much older, even though he was 35 and you were 24.

You just asked him why and he was honest enough to tell you that he didn't have time for more and that you wouldn't be the only one. You thought about it for a few minutes and then you realized that seeing him again was fate and that you couldn't miss the chance. You wanted to be with him the very first minute you saw him. If you had to be his sugar baby for that, then a sugar baby you would be. You accepted, not caring about the ridiculous amount of money he offered you. You didn't need the money but you wanted the man.

After that, you spent the night — a very hot night during which you realized how much of a beast Namjoon was in bed — with him in a hotel room. A few days later, he texted you an address. He didn't say what you would do there and you didn't question. You just went to the rendezvous.

You were quite surprised to stand in front of a luxurious block apartment in one of the most expensive districts of Seoul. At first, you thought it was Namjoon's place and you were very curious to see how his flat was, to see if he had photos of him, his family and his friends. But when Namjoon joined you and opened the door of one of the apartments, you were more than surprised to meet an empty one.

The place was huge and the windows provided an amazing view on Seoul, but there was no furniture at all.

"Do you like it?" Namjoon asked you

"The view is beautiful" You managed to say, not knowing where he wanted to go with his question

"Good. It's yours, baby"

You gasped and looked at Namjoon with wide open eyes. In the other hand, Namjoon was pleased by your reaction and he walked closer to kiss you deeply. His hands quickly found your ass and he pressed your body against his. You were small in his arms. You knew Namjoon was very strong and he could break you very easily but instead of being scared of it, you just felt good in his embrace. You felt protected and you wished you could never leave it.

It didn't take long for Namjoon to lead to the kitchen island. He grabbed your thighs to make you sit on it and started kissing your neck. Your fingers were in his soft hair and your legs circled his waist, trying to pull him deeper into your skin. You felt his hand slowly going down to capture your tit in order to massage it. Your head rolled back at the pleasure of it. He took off your top and bra in no time to finally get to see your pretty boobs. He smirked when he noticed your already hard nipples.

He dived into it, sucking and rolling his tongue around it. Soft moans left your mouth and your pussy became wetter and wetter. Fuck, he was good. You whimpered when he bit on one of your nipples but an instant pleasure chased the pain. You loved how rough he was. You kind of got the clue that the rougher he was, the more he cared. So you did want him to be harsh with you.

Namjoon pushed your chest down so you could lie on your back. The material of the kitchen island was so cold against your burning skin that it made your shiver. Namjoon took some seconds to admire how beautiful you were and then made sure to completely undress you. Your naked body entirely at his disposal was the best thing ever for him.

"My pretty baby" He whispered before taking a big licking of your wet pussy

You jolted and moaned of how good it was to feel his tongue on you. He was eating your pussy so good that you couldn't think straight. Namjoon loved to see how your body reacted when he was touching you and he made it as his mission to make you cum as much as he could. He entered you with one of his long digits. He knew your tight pussy wasn't used enough to his big cock for penetrating you directly. He was pumping you, covering his finger with your juices. When the sliding was smooth enough, he added another finger.

"It feels good, daddy" You moaned with red cheeks — calling him daddy was very new to you at the time

"Your pussy is so tight, I love it. Let's find out if you can take another one" He teased before entering you with a third digit

Fuck, he was stretching you so good that you gasped. Namjoon curled his fingers inside your pussy to hit your g-spot, making you lose your sanity. His tongue was keeping its devilish pattern on your clit and you could feel your orgasm slowly building inside your stomach. Namjoon smirked when your walls got tighter around his fingers. He sped up his pace, just to push you closer to the edge.

"Cum on my fingers. Come on, baby"

His raspy voice against your pussy was a real sin and it was enough for you to go to the other side. You cummed hard on his fingers, screaming his name despite your heavy breathe.

Namjoon stood up to kiss you, your arousal still tasted on his tongue. You were slowly coming back to Earth while Namjoon used the hand that was in your pussy to lube his big cock. You didn't even notice him taking off his clothes. You opened your eyes to awe his buff body. His biceps and abs were flexing as he was pumping himself. He was so damn hot that you had to bite your lower lip to prevent a moan at his sight.

"Open your legs for daddy" Namjoon orders and fuck, you could feel your pussy dripping

You hold your thighs to give as much room for Namjoon as you could and he guided his fat dick to your entrance. The tip was teasing you and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you. You shuddered when the teasing was longer than you thought it would be.

"Beg for it"

Namjoon loved hearing how desperate you were for his cock. It boosted his already huge ego and you didn't mind making it bigger. Namjoon was, in fact, the man you loved and you could do whatever he wanted to make him happy.

"Please, daddy, I need your cock" You begged, making Namjoon satisfied

"Good girl" He praises as he gently entered you

Fuck, he was so big, it was almost painful. When he was fully in you, Namjoon pushed your knees against your chest to open you wider. It made your cunt clench and Namjoon growl. He started pounding you hard and deep. That was no doubt he knew what he was doing. Never a man had fucked you this good and the pleasure was enhanced by this huge size.

Sounds of skins clapping were echoing in the empty apartment like the sweetest melody ever. Your boobs, bouncing in rhythm with Namjoon's dick strokes, appealed him and he bent over to suck on your nipples. You groaned, feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations on your body.

"Fucking big" You choked up, making Namjoon giggle

"Fucking tight" He replied playfully

Your pretty face was torn by pleasure which spurred him to fuck rougher, if it was even possible. You looked so precious like that. His pretty baby.

You felt your second orgasm near so you grabbed Namjoon's hair to kiss him messily. Moans from both sides were mixing between your lips.

"Faster, daddy" You begged, completely delirious

Namjoon did it and you reached your high — again — in no time. You thought that he would slow down but it surely wasn't his intention. He, instead, put one of his warm palms around your neck and the other one on your clit. It was like Namjoon wanted to never end your orgasm but it was too much for you. Your eyes filled with tears and your mouth opened, no sound able to come from your shaking body.

"Look at you" He smirked "So fucked up. Tell daddy how much you love his cock"

"I fucking love your cock!" You screamed

"You're so fucking pretty"

Namjoon pounded a couple of times more before pulling abruptly out of your pussy and jerk him off to paint your stomach with his hot and thick white seed. He took a few seconds to admire his art piece but he didn't wait long before picking it up with his index and middle finger. He brought them up to your mouth.

"Open" He ordered and pushed his digits inside your mouth

You could taste his salty cum on your tongue as you rolled it around his fingers to clean them up.

"Good fucking girl" He praised

He kissed you so gently after that that it surprised you. You didn't think Namjoon could be so caring after fucking you so roughly. But it'd soon be your favourite thing about him. He hugged you tight despite your sticky tummy and his sweaty body — you both didn't care at all about it.

"How about a hot bath?" He offered you with a very sweet voice

You were definitely in love with the man. 

Memories → Next

Taglist @gimeow @whoreseok723 @wecanpretendit @missbangtangirl @dprmoon @baechugff @parkinglot-nights @nikkinik485 @hoseokteardrop

[sachirobabe]

Chapter 9

Gojo Satoru x reader

Wc: 2640

Curseless au

Summary: Amidst the zombie apocalypse, your courage shines as you not only saves lives but capture the heart of Gojo Satoru. Together with his first-year students, you all embark on a perilous journey, not only for survival but in a quest for a cure that adds a poignant layer to the unfolding romance.

<— Previous | Masterlist | Next —>

Taglist: @spindyl

"You gotta shoot—"

"You haven't turned yet." Satoru swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head. "Y/n, please do something." He turns to you, fear evident in his eyes.

"Let me see." You approach him.

"No." He sternly says, stepping back. "It won't be much longer before I turn. Stay away." There's tears welling up in his eyes.

Nobara turns away from the group, collapsing on the ground, choking on her sobs. She grabs onto Itadori, shaking.

You forcefully grab his hand and inspect it, it was a straight cut down his hand. "There's no teeth marks." You say to Satoru, he's next to you pacing back and forth. "I don't think you got bit. It's a deep scratch."

"Still, one of those things touched me." Megumi says.

"Do you feel any different?" You ask him, setting your backpack down to find your things to clean and bandage him up.

"I-I don't know." He says stressed.

"Can he still turn if he got scratched?" Nobara asks, wiping her tears.

"Not likely, but it can get infected more easily." You say, "Itadori, go find me a chair please." He nods, having hope that Megumi will be alright.

Satoru remains silent, watching you carefully clean his wound. He's terrified, the thought of losing one of his students was his worst nightmare. Especially Megumi, he had taken the roll of his father.

"He's going to be okay." You tell Satoru and he simply nods.

"Here." Itadori brings over a chair and helps Megumi sit down.

"This is gonna sting a bit." You say and pour the liquid over his wound, Megumi hisses and shuts his eyes. Now that his wound was clean it was much easier to see how deep the cut was.

You frown as blood continued to spill out, "You're gonna need some stitches."

"Now?" Megumi's eyes widen.

"I don't know, I was thinking maybe next week at 2:00 pm." You sarcastically say.

"Not funny." Satoru frowns.

"Sorry. Yes now." You say.

"Have you ever done stitches on somebody that wasn't yourself?" Megumi asks.

"You're really worried about that dude? You almost fucking died." Itadori smacks the back of his head.

"You're lucky I'm injured." Megumi glares at him.

You have Satoru hold your things for you while you got to work on Megumi's hand, you warned him that it wasn't going to feel very good.

He shuts his eyes the whole time, making a fist with his other hand and digging his nails into his palm to help relive some pain.

You tied it off and applied some ointment, "Take these." You hand him some pain killers and he swallows them.

As soon as he stood up from his chair, Satoru engulfed him in a hug. You softly smile, he really cares for his students. Megumi was surprised and a little grumpy, but he returned the hug. You noticed Satoru wipe his eyes quickly, thinking nobody saw him.

"Don't do that again." Satoru clears his throat. "Thank you, Y/n."

"Yeah, thank you." Megumi says.

"You're an idiot." Nobara hits Megumi, but ends up hugging him with Itadori.

"Where are we?" You ask, putting your things away and arming yourself again.

"Looks like our base back home, but bigger." Nobara remarks.

"There's a door that way." Itadori says and begins leading the way.

You're all cautious in case anybody else is there, the door opens and reveals a huge room, there were tons of rooms. It looked like your base back home.

After ensuring nobody else was in the building, you wandered off to explore. There was even more food and supplies, but one particular room made you stop in your tracks.

It was a lab. The one Shoko had been showing you. 'This is the base Nanami was talking about.' You think to yourself. Suddenly, you grew excited, this place would be perfect.

"Satoru!" You run back to him, he was inspecting the kitchen. "This is the base Nanami was talking about."

"What?" He says confused.

"Nanami and Shoko wanted to check out this base. We're in the base." You say.

"And there's nobody here?" He asks, raising his weapon now.

"I don't think so." Itadori says, coming back with the other two first-years.

"Get into formation." Satoru says, you lift a brow as the four of them get ready. "Follow us." He makes eye contact with you.

You simply nod and hold up your gun, joining them as you go room to room, inspecting every crevice for other people or zombies. You feel Nobara holding her breath before every room and then releasing it once there's nothing.

It took awhile to make sure the place was empty, but it was worth making sure it was. "Well?" You face Satoru.

"I think we could make this work." He pulls you in for a hug, melting from the smell of you. "We'll make it." He whispers for you to hear, then pulls away reluctantly.

Nobara eyes Itadori as they both watched the scene unfold in front of them, she gives him a look indicating that they'll debrief about this later.

Megumi returns from upstairs, a frown evident on his face. "Guys," he gets everyone's attention, "I think we're trapped here."

"What do you mean?" Itadori furrows his brows.

"Follow me." Megumi leads the way up the stairs. You all are able to lookout from the secure tower, you see the entire place surrounded by zombies.

"What the hell?" You say, "Why aren't they leaving?"

"No idea, but we can't leave." Megumi says.

Satoru rubs his forehead, muttering curses underneath his breath.

"Can we take them?" Itadori clenched his jaw, looking determined already.

"There's no way." Nobara shook her head.

"Absolutely not. We've risked enough for today." Satoru says, "We've gotta figure out a way to contact the others."

"Do you think they'll still be at the radio tower?" You ask, eyeing the machines next to you that would be able to contact them.

Satoru checks his watch, "We have 30 minutes before we're supposed to meet back up with them."

"It's worth a shot." Megumi turns on the machine and messes with the frequencies. He nods towards Satoru and he begins speaking.

"Nanami? Are you there? Over." It's quiet and staticky, he tries again another two more times, but nothing.

"Next one." You say to Megumi and he toggles the radio. Eventually, the static became a norm as the 5 of you continued to reach Nanami and the others.

"Anyone—hear." You briefly heard over the static. "Wait Megumi, listen." You make him pause mid switch and he does what you tell him.

"Located near—" it cuts off again, "Go ahead one more." Nobara and Itadori circle around the table.

"Hello, hello, can anyone out there hear me? Over." The person says clear as day.

"That has to be Nanami!" You gasp and then quickly hit Satoru's shoulder so he'd be able to make his message.

Before Nanami can give his second message, Satoru interrupts him. "Yes, do you copy? Over."

You're all anticipating his next words, if they even come, "Loud and clear, who's speaking? Over." You all cheer for a quick moment then get back down to the matter at hand.

"We got someone!" Nanami gets Maki's attention and she tells the rest of the group to listen.

"It's Satoru Gojo, we ran into a predicament, over."

Nanami frowns when he hears his name, "Never mind, it's this idiot." The group groaned, excitement leaving their bodies.

The conversation between the two went back and forth a few times before Nanami ultimately decided that he and his group would lure the zombies away from the gate, giving you guys just enough time get the hell out of there.

"No casualties please." Satoru mutters underneath his breath before placing a hand on the small of your back to lead you to the front door. "We escape on my word, got it?" He faces the first-years and they all nod.

Satoru gives you a firm nod and you open the door, one by one everyone walked towards the fence and stood, awaiting their teachers orders.

You searched for a familiar blonde near the crowd of zombies and finally spotted him and the rest of the crew.

"You're late!" Nanami yells at Satoru, "I said be back at 3:30!". This causes Satoru to frown. The group creates a commotion to get the zombies attention and it works slowly, the ones further in the back seemed to quickly move towards them.

After a few minutes the crowd begins to dwindle, you draw your bow and begin firing arrows to back up some zombies and eliminate them. Nobara joins in and begins to throw some of her knives, effectively taking them down.

The guns would draw too much attention and bring the zombies that Nanami lured out to come back.

"Now! Go!" Satoru yells, you yank open the gate and allow everyone to get out.

"Meet us on the 5th block!" Shoko yells and you all begin running away from the zombies. You shut the gate closed and follow behind them.

As you ran you shot a few arrows to keep the distance between danger larger, you're quickly running out, making you worry.

Your lungs burn the longer you're having to run, Satoru is keeping his eye on you, making sure you're not too far behind. You're busy shooting off the zombies, after you fired your last arrow you quickly caught up to the group.

You met up with Nanami and his group completely winded and out of breath. Everyone had their hands on their knees, desperate for air.

"Thank you." Satoru says to the other group.

"Everybody good?" Maki asks, eyeing all of you in case someone is acting off.

"Yeah, all good." You say, finally being able to breathe.

"Let's head back. Quickly." Nanami suggests. The walk/jog back to base was quiet. Everybody in their own thoughts.

Being in the semi-comfort of the base eased your anxiety. The kids were safe and sitting in the living room, talking quietly about what happened.

You were lost in thought, thinking back to the situation where you could've seriously gotten hurt. You put them all in danger, a feeling of regret pooled in your stomach, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

"Y/n?" Nanami brings you back to reality, "Did you hear what I said?"

You quickly shake your head, "No, I'm sorry, I was-uh distracted." You cleared your throat, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," He waves you off, "I just asked if you were up to catch us some dinner."

"Oh yeah, of course." You quickly get up from your seat and prepare to leave.

"I'm coming with." Satoru smiles.

"No, it's okay." You brush him off. You don't wanna put any of them in danger again.

"What?" He chuckles.

"I kinda want to be alone, just for a little—"

"Absolutely not. Nobody goes anywhere alone." He crosses his arms.

"Then I'll ask Nanami or Shoko to go with me." You say, continuing to pack.

"Excuse me?" He scoffs.

"I didn't mean it like that. I like having you there, but I don't really feel like talking and I know Nanami or Shoko won't ask anything." You explain, finally facing him.

"I'm going." He stands his ground, towering over you. He's so close to you that you can smell the snack he ate earlier.

"It's fine. I'm sure you're tired anyway." You cross your arms, mirroring him.

"Tired?" He laughs, "You must not know me, sweetheart. I'm going." The look in his eyes tell you that he is not backing down.

"Okay." You say, and begin to head out. He follows behind you, offended that you even thought of bringing somebody else with you.

The door slams, catching everybody's attention in the room. "What just happened?" Shoko furrows her brows.

"No idea." Megumi says, eyes trained on the door.

You put some distance between the two of you, noticing it was later than you'd like when hunting, you let out a frustrated sigh. Satoru frowns at your behavior, wanting to be close to you.

He shakes his head, 'What's wrong with me?' He doesn't even get a chance to blink before you had already caught dinner, walking past him without a word.

He clenches his jaw and jogs up to you, "What's wrong?" He whispers.

"Nothing. It's been a long, tiring, eventful day." You say.

"Did I do something?" He asks.

"No."

"Then why the cold shoulder?" He asks and he's met with silence on your end. He's had enough, he moves in front of you, holding you in place so you can't leave. "What's wrong." He asks again, this time you can tell he's not playing around.

"Nothing." You roll your eyes and try to walk away. His grip on you was unwavering, he was insanely strong. "Can we maybe not do this now? Especially when we're out in the open?!" You free yourself from him and begin to walk away.

His eyes widen at your annoyance, enforcing the distance even more than when you did at the beginning of the hunt.

You feel terrible for snapping at him, your eyes water as you continue walking back. A small part of you wanted him to come back up to you and try again, now you're sure he hates you.

As you enter, you quickly tell Nanami that you're not feeling too well so you were going to lay down for a bit before your watching shift. Satoru frowns at your absence, but decides to still give you some space.

You were able to sleep for a few hours, but your nightmare of what happened earlier woke you up in cold sweat. You catch your breath for a few seconds and calm your anxiety, you realize you're parched and get up to grab a water.

Satoru sat on the couch, a frown still evident on his face, but his eyes lighten up the second he sees you pass by. He gives you a small smile and watches you drink from your water quickly.

He stands up and walks toward you with a plate in hand. "It's not warm anymore, but I figured you'd be hungry." You see the food you had caught earlier.

"I'm not really hungry right now, but thanks." You take the plate and sit down at the table, he mirrors you and sat down as well.

He gives you a small smile, finally content that you were talking to him again. His attention went out the window, watching the snow fall slowly.

"I'm sorry for earlier." You snap his attention back towards you, "I just didn't want to endanger you more than I already did."

"Endanger me?" He moves closer to you. "You're talking about what happened at the mall, right?"

Your stomach churns as you begin to replay the scene in your head. "That was really fucking stupid of me, I'm really sorry." You rub your eyes, trying your best to keep your tears from falling.

"Don't talk about yourself like that." He clenches his jaw, "We're gonna run into trouble everywhere we go. That was not your fault."

"I left my weapons, who does that?!" You say, your teary eyes looking into his big blue ones, he fights everything in him to pull you into his chest and hold you.

"It was a mistake, but you're not stupid or weak." He reassures you. "And we're all gonna make them, not just you, alright?"

It was quiet for a few moments, you were beginning to calm down. "Besides," he gets your attention, "they were weak anyway." He makes you chuckle, bringing a smile onto his face. "There she is." He pinches your cheek and you jokingly push him away.