#despite being asked for it many many times over the years

[whimsyfinny]

He's a Winchester

Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, mention of toxic parenting/custody battle, angst, alcohol,

Chapter Word Count: 3471

MDNI 18+

A/N: here it is! I’m not gonna lie, this is going to be very slow burn at first, but don’t worry, you know me and you know how much juicy content I write so it’s definitely coming hahaha. I’m also trying to figure out a schedule for posting this, so hopefully I can upload two chapters a week.

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out. 

Photos from Pinterest

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I reached for the bottle of wine for the third time in the last hour and a half. I was sitting with Kat, pyjamas adorned, in the living room of mine and Levi's modest two bedroom house. For financial (and personal) reasons, our little house didn't follow current trends and looked more like something out of a popular 90s sitcom. The couch was comfy, the blankets were fuzzy, and a fresh pot of coffee was always brewing. Pictures embellished the walls of every milestone Levi had achieved; every birthday party, every new dirt bike, every new hairstyle. There were a few of Kat and I from over the years, going way back to when we first met back in ‘99 and both decided to rock platform heels on at the turn of the millennium - having tiny babies at the time didn't seem to stop us. Every single moment on these walls was a happy memory - something that I would treasure forever, yet there was something missing. There were no photos - or perhaps a scarce few - of my own parents, or of them with Levi, or of any extended family for that matter. The price I paid when I decided to have my son out of wedlock, at barely twenty years old, with a man who my family saw as a total stranger, is a price I'd pay every time in a heartbeat. Kat and Toby were our family now, and that was more than I could ever ask for. That was why the sheer possibility of Levi getting to meet his dad for the first time in, well, ever… it had my mind spinning. It was a scenario I'd dreamt of, late at night when I couldn't sleep and the burdens of life weighed me down. I conjured false memories in my minds eye of the pair of them fixing his bike on the drive or driving to school in the impala. I pictured us having breakfast together as a family and taking trips to the movies. Being together. Because no matter how many dates I went on, or how many frogs I’d kissed over the years, none of them were Levi's father.

None of them were Dean Winchester.

“Girl you have to reach out to him,” Kat walked in from the adjacent kitchen before slumping on the couch next to me, wine glass elevated to reduce spillage.

“Kat I could barely look at him today without feeling like I was going to have a heart attack - how the fuck am I supposed to talk to him?” I glanced at her with wide eyes, every nerve in my body on edge despite the wine and scented candles. Kat sighed. 

“You might never get this opportunity again, and we both know that if you don’t give Levi the opportunity to meet his father then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” I held my breath, urging the raging storm in my mind to quiet down before letting the air gush from my lungs.

“Yeah I know. I just…I just never thought that this would actually happen, you know? I never thought that Dean would show up here. I figured Levi would eventually track him down when he was old enough to make that decision on his own. I have no idea how to even approach this.”

“Sure you do!” Kat beamed, a wicked glint in her eye, “you sit him down and say, ‘Hey Dean! Remember when we had sex in the back of that amazing car of yours nine years ago? Well, actions have consequences, and yours in eight years old and sitting in his science class right now.’”

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face and I cackled when the bit of popcorn I threw landed in her wine glass.

“Bitch.”

I blew her a kiss in response to her insult. It didn’t take long though for the distraction to run its course and for my mind to return to its state of panic.

“But seriously, what am I going to say to him? What if I tell him, and he rejects us too, like my family did?”

Her smile softened.

“From everything that you’ve told me about that man, I highly doubt he’s going to reject you. Sure, he might not stick around permanently, but he sounds like the kind of guy that would stay in touch,” her softened smile turned to a stern stare, “but he’s only going to do that if he knows. He deserves to know he has a son.”

I took a long gulp of my wine. 

“Yeah, I’m going to tell him…” I paused, gnawing my bottom lip as I drew my knees to my chest, “it’s Saturday tomorrow so I’m not at work and Levi has two hours at the track. I can try to do it tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to track Dean down in that time - I have no idea where he could be.”

“Hey, I’ll pick up Levi from Motocross - it’s been a few days since him and Toby have spent any proper time together anyway, just them two. Tobes’ has been dying to show him those brand new boots of his.”

We shared a smile. That’s the thing about Kat; she always had my back, no matter the situation.

“Thanks babes, I owe you one.”

She shook her head.

“No way - this is me returning the favour from when Toby’s dad decided to show an interest in his own child. I’m pretty sure my kid thought you were adopting him at one point from how much he stayed here,” I laughed, remembering the camp bed I bought especially for Toby, along with all the extra duvet sets and boxes of cereal I’d had to purchase for the best part of half a year.

“He’s a good kid, and honestly he and Levi entertained themselves for most of it.”

There was another pause in the conversation as I recounted how difficult it had been for Kat when David had shown up, insisting on being a part of Tobys life despite zero contact since his son was born. They’d argued over custody, over which school he went to, the clubs he attended. Even his hobbies were on the line, with David wanting him to play football despite Toby already being involved down at the track with the bikes. The stress caused Kat to lose weight and sleep, and she nearly lost her job over it all when she kept falling asleep at her desk. I’d lost count of how many times she’d cried in my arms. Cried over a man who thought that practically owning his son was his God given right despite being an absent father, and I think that is what scared me the most. That I would feel the same wretched things that she felt, and the waves of disappointment that crashed over her time and time again when false promises were made. It took her months to settle on an agreement due to David's behaviour, and Toby finally sees his father, albeit only for one weekend a month. It's better than nothing, but certainly not worth the fight that was fought with blood, sweat and tears. 

I hope from the bottom of my heart that Dean takes the news well, and doesn't leave us in the dust like he does in my worst nightmares.

It had taken me around thirty minutes to track down Dean. Well, to at least find the impala. It's common knowledge that if you find that car, Dean isn't far away. I’d parked my truck two spaces down, and luckily we were within walking distance of my favourite café, Jolenes’. It was my safe space. The place that I would finally tell him about Levi.

I pulled the sleeves of my soft cardigan down over my hands to stop myself from chewing nervously on my nails. Leaving the safety of my truck, I paced over to the black Chevy and stood by it, determined to speak to Dean as soon as possible. I knew that if I had stayed sitting behind my own wheel, there was a huge chance that I'd chicken out and just drive away. As I waited I checked over the car in front of me, admiring how he still kept it spotless after all these years. Unable to stop myself, I let my gaze drift over to the backseat, the events that unfurled on the soft leather racing to mind. I pulled my lip between my teeth, unable to resist the replay of memories.

“You have good taste in cars.”

I practically launched out my skin as the voice came from behind me. I could hear the amusement in his voice from a few feet away. I spun on my heel and our eyes locked, the charming grin slipping slightly from Deans’ lips when he realised it was me. The playfulness in his features quickly softened, a true, genuine smile now gracing his lips.

“Dean…” I suddenly felt breathless, but despite my nerves I returned his smile in kind.

“It's good to see you (Y/n),” he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms, enveloping me in his entirety. I closed my eyes as I hugged him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and taking a deep breath, my brain tingling at his familiar scent.

“You too, Dean. It's been too long.”

After a moment we released each other and Dean stood up straight, smiling at me again with a soft twinkle in his eye. We both flinched slightly when someone cleared their throat and he took a step back. 

“Oh, uh, (Y/n), this is Sam, my younger brother,” he patted the shoulder of the young man standing beside him, and I instantly recognised him from the dessert parlour. He was tall, taller than Dean even, which was one hell of an accomplishment, and his face held a similar boyish charm to Deans. Yet he looked softer around the edges, like he hadn't been hardened by life too much yet.

“It's a pleasure, I'm (Y/n). I've known you're brother for a while,” I smiled as I shook his hand, taking note of the rough calluses beginning to form on his palms. “He used to talk about you all the time, apparently you're the smart one of the family,” with a grin and a quick glance at Dean, I tested the waters with humour. If he laughed or took the blow like a champ, now was a good time to talk to him. Sam chuckled, squeezing my hand slightly in his before letting it go. 

“Ouch… (Y/n), sweetheart, aren't you supposed to be on my side here? Y’know, with our history and all…?” he feigned hurt with a hand on his chest before his lips twitched up and he shot me a wink.

“I mean… she's not wrong,” Sam laughed, dropping his hands lazily into his pockets.

“Hey, I'm just going on what you told me, Dean. Don't hold that against me,” I grinned at them both, unsure of what to do with my hands so I crossed them across my chest.

A small breath of silence passed between us, Deans’ gaze holding mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. I didn't. Sam cleared his throat again, clapping his hand to Deans’ shoulder before taking a step back.

“I'll, uh, give you guys a few minutes,” and with an appreciative nod from Dean, Sam gave us some space. With his younger brother gone, my heart began to flutter in my chest. The time to break the news was getting closer, and my nerves were on edge. On fire.

“So,” he started, taking a step closer with a deep breath, “how's it going? How long has it been?”

“Nine years,” I was almost too hot on the mark, my words coming out faster than I'd intended and Dean blinked slightly. I sighed, looking down. “There's been a lot going on, and honestly, I've really needed you at times. You're a hard man to find Dean Winchester.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” his brows pinched apologetically and he reached for my hand, tracing my knuckles with his thumb. I took a deep breath and met his gaze again.

“Do you… do you have some time? I need to talk to you. It's important, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I'll get another chance.” 

He nodded slowly, giving my hand a squeeze, releasing it hesitantly with a slight wince to his features.

“Uh oh,” he said, “am I in trouble?”

I laughed, the sound light off my chest.

“Oh Dean,” I reached up to touch his face, and his instinctive reaction was to lean into my palm, “you don't know the half of it.” 

The walk to the café had been pleasant. We chatted about what we'd been up to since we last met - Dean revealing he was still in the same line of work and had travelled around a lot, never really settling down. There was something about that nugget of information that made my stomach twist in knots. He learnt I was still a receptionist, this time at the local garage  instead of the large dealership I had scored before. He asked why I'd changed, to go to something smaller, lesser, and my silence urged him to wait until we were at our destination. He knew I was anxious, and he did his best to keep conversation light and breezy until the time was right. To an untrained eye he was unphased, yet I could tell from the lip nibbling and flitting gaze that he was nervous too.

Do you think he's already guessed it?

The bell jingled as we walked in, the two baristas looking up and instantly greeting me with a wave and a smile.

“Hey (Y/n)! Your couch is free,” the first barista, a young man around my age with soft blond curls waved to me across the counter, his brilliant grin making me smile with a comforting familiarity. “Your usual?”

“Yes please! Thanks, Jake,” I returned the friendliness, stepping around the tables until we arrived at my favourite spot.

“And for your… date?” He gestured to Dean, who was now shrugging off his leather jacket, “what can I get for you pal?” 

Dean hesitated, before just holding his hands up.

“Uhhh, I don't know, I guess I'll have what she's having.”

With our hot beverages on their way, I sat down in my usual nook in the corner whilst Dean sat down opposite, in that same plush armchair that Kat had sat in yesterday. Where Kat had been swallowed by the chair and its all-consuming cushions, Dean had the opposite effect. He made the chair look small under his broad form, like it was made for a child. There were a few moments of silence, neither of us really knowing where to start. So I bit the bullet.

“Dean… before I tell you anything, just know that I've been trying to get hold of you on and off for years. Your number always seemed to go to voicemail and I never got a call back. So please just… know I tried.” 

I looked up and he was totally engaged, already hanging off every word I said as he leant forward, his elbows on his knees. Our attention pulled away from each other briefly as our coffees arrived, hand delivered by the second barista - a woman a few years older than myself with a jet black pixie cut.

“Thanks Emily, you're an angel,” I grasped the mug before she even had a chance to put it on the table and clutched it in my lap, letting the warmth seep through my palms to help soothe my nerves. 

“No worries babes, you two have fun,” she looked between Dean and me with a playful smirk, throwing me a wink before she turned around. 

Great, the gossip starts now.

I turned back to Dean who was now sitting on the edge of his seat. I took a deep breath.

Do it now.

“Dean, I have a son.”

I watched his face twitch slightly, almost like it dropped in disappointment, however it was so fleeting across his features that it was hard to tell. He pulled a strained smile onto his lips.

“(Y/n) that's great, I'm happy for you,” he looked down at his boots briefly, choosing his next words, “I guess this is you telling me to stay away, huh? Now that you have a family and all. It's ok, I get it.”

I shook my head, placing my cup on the table so I could pull myself to sit on the edge of the couch, almost mirroring Dean.

“No, no Dean, that's not- look, what I'm saying is…” another deep breath, “you, have a son.”

I watched his eyes go wide, unsure if he heard me correctly.

“What?” His voice was breathy.

I looked down into my mug for a second, choosing my words. 

“I have a little boy; he's eight, his name is Levi…and he's yours, Dean. He's your son.”

I dared to look up at him, watching his eyes go wider and his mind empty of thoughts. Either that, or his mind is racing so fast that it's left his body on standby. I gave him a few minutes to process the news. Or at least process it the best he could as it would likely be days or weeks before this fully sunk in. Nervousness prickled at my own skin, my worst fears of rejection bubbling to the surface again at his silence. I sighed.

“It’s ok, Dean, I’m not expecting you to-”

He stood abruptly, stepped over the coffee table and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his strong arms around me in a crushing grip. His arms were so tight that it almost winded me, yet I returned his embrace. The feeling of his lips on the top of my head surprised me as he kissed my hair, the sensation warm and comforting. He placed one, two more kisses before he cupped my face in his large hands, his rough palms gentle against my cheeks as I locked eyes with him. The sight was beautiful. The annoyance and exasperation that I expected to be met with was nowhere to be seen, and I saw no shadow of negativity within those evergreen eyes. All I saw was love. Pride. Joy. Excitement. The relief washing over me felt the same as climbing into your nice, warm comfy bed when on the brink of exhaustion. 

“I’m a dad?” his voice cracked slightly whilst his eyes shimmered.

I nodded as a grin erupted across his face, followed by an airy, almost unbelieving chuckle.

“Holy fuck, (Y/n)-”

“You’re not mad?” my voice was quiet.

“What?” Dean looked at me as though I’d grown a second head, “of course not. Why would I be mad?”

“Because it’s been nine years since we last saw each other, and suddenly this woman who you’ve not spoken to in nearly a decade drops the biggest truth bomb on you. A truth bomb  that I know you definitely weren’t expecting,” I try to step back but he pulls me in for another hug, squeezing the air out of me a second time.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, this is the best bit of news I’ve had in a long, long time.”

I smiled into his chest, freeing my arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him down into a hug of my own. We stood for a moment in our embrace as the coffee shop busied around us. I knew this shop and I knew this town and people would soon start to talk, start to try and figure out Dean: like who is he? How does he know (Y/n)? Why are they acting so familiar? Is he trouble? But that was all unimportant rubbish that I would deal with later. Right now, Levis father was here, and he knew. For the first time in my adult life I felt like I wasn’t keeping some devastating secret from an incredible man, and it was like I could breathe again. 

Pulling away from Deans’ bear hug, I tucked the wisps of hair away that had come loose from my claw grip and grinned up at him, reaching for his hand. I held it in mine as I swayed slightly on the spot, like an excited schoolgirl who’d just been asked on her first date. Dean smiled down at me, the sort of smile that shone on top of the world.

“So…” I started, biting my lip slightly.

“Do you want to meet your son?”

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[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Nekoma 2nd years in their 3rd year braindump

Captain - Fukunaga

Vice Captain - Tora

Despite his quiet nature Fukunaga gets chosen as captain and he's suprisingly good. He has a way of leading without saying much, he just stares at people and they somehow understand what he means. Besides that he's the best option by default, Tora's too quick-to-anger and Kenma would never take a job with that much responsibility. If either of them was in charge they'd fight constantly since Tora would run that shit like the millitary while Kenma would try way too little. Fukunaga's the perfect balance— he's respected by both his third-year peers, keeps the energy fun with his jokes (but still knows when to take things seriously), gets super into the game, and isn't afraid to douse troublemakers with a bucket of water. He also brings snacks.

As vice captain Tora's essentially Fukunaga's personal megaphone. He does 90% of the yelling, scolds first-years who interupt the coach, and is the go-to-guy for gathering up the team for huddles. Initially some of the new players doubt Fukunaga's captain skills and although Fukunaga himself isn't bothered Tora gets super defensive of him. A lot of shouting about respecting your upperclassmen and whatnot. He also has the tendency to rile himself up (the other teams like to provoke him) but Fukunaga knows how to keep him in check

Tora and Fukunaga insist that Kenma is “Honorary Captain” and convince the new members to call him that. Kenma hates it. He tried to stop them but by the first week it had already stuck. Despite his distaste towards the nickname Kenma's a cornerstone of Nekoma's leadership, he's the brain after all! He's still the strategic mastermind of the team and first-years often go to him for advice (much to his dismay). He doesn't love being relied on by so many people but he tries his best for Kuroo's sake (who he calls to rant to at least 4 times a week).

Fukunaga asked Kuroo to teach him the “We are blood” chant so he could continue the tradition, but the first time he tried it in an actual game he burst out laughing before getting through a single line. Then Tora—being way too intense as always—started yelling at him to do it right, which only made him laugh harder. In the end Kenma put aside his embarrasement and did the damn chant, just to get it over with. Tora and Fukunaga were so proud that they tried to hug him right there in the middle of the court. The whole thing was a mess.

On his last day as captain the first-years dump a bucket of water over Fukunaga's head. Karma at last.

[levisolace]

[4] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 4: Earl Grey

WC: 7,120 Chapter Warnings: angst again ^^ (they need to communicate), also unedited Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: At least it didn't take a year this time?

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The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across your small apartment. You sat on the couch, Earl nestled beside you, his sleek black fur shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the window. A bowl of Earl's favorite tuna-flavored kibble rested between them, and you carefully scooped a handful into his waiting dish.

"Here you go, Earl," you murmured, voice soft and soothing. Earl's green eyes gleamed with anticipation as he watched the kibble tumble into the bowl. With a gentle nudge of his head, he began to nibble contentedly.

You smiled, your fingers absently stroking Earl's fur as she watched him eat. It was moments like these that you cherished — quiet mornings filled with the simple pleasure of caring for your companion.

The kitchen clock ticked steadily on the wall, reminding you of the peaceful passage of time. It was Sunday, a day she reserved for leisure and relaxation. Outside, the neighborhood was bathed in the golden light of morning, with the distant sound of cars honking and people shouting. Despite the chaos that the neighborhood offered, it should be a peaceful day… if only you aren’t aware of a certain raven-haired man on the way to your apartment. 

"You're going to have a good day today, aren't you, Earl?" you murmured, your voice tinged with affection. Earl looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, as if he understood every word. “That man I used to tell you about, he’s coming.” 

After finishing his breakfast, Earl stretched lazily, arching his back and then padding over to you. He rubbed against your leg, purring loudly, before settling down at your feet. You chuckled softly, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. "You're such a charmer," you whispered.

Together, they basked in the tranquil morning, you sipping you coffee as Earl curled up beside you. The sunlight danced across the room, casting playful shadows on the walls. 

When the clock struck nine, you were agitatedly waiting for Levi to arrive. He hasn’t texted or called to follow up or confirm he was even coming, making you doubt if he was even aware of it. You’ve pondered just asking Hange for the address, but when you texted her, she assured you that Levi was coming. 

You were aware that the appointment isn’t until the end hour but you were biting your nails, your nerves acting up all of a sudden. Should you dress up? Was it alright that you were just wearing jeans and a tight fitting top? For some reason, you feel like you should dress up. Hell, you even put on more makeup than your usual corporate look.

“Earl, do you think he’s coming?” 

The cat purred, jumping to your side on the couch. You run your thumb on his head, petting him softly. Just then, your phone pinged with a notification. A two-word text from an unknown number.

Come down. 

It’s no mistake that it’s Levi. You could almost hear his commanding and aloof tone through the pixels. Rushing, you take one last look in the mirror, you pat your hair and smile at yourself. But just like being dumped with cold water, your smile drops as you realize your action and your hand flies up to slap your cheek lightly. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This is not a date or even a friendly get together.

You make sure everything in your apartment is in check before grabbing your coat. You bid your pet farewell and hurried down and out of your apartment complex. 

Like it was on cue, the moment you stepped on the pavement, you heard the low but powerful hum of an engine approaching. A sleek black Audi glides into view. The car stops smoothly in front of you and you look around, a few people outside staring at the car with an odd expression on their face. 

You don’t move. Instead, you take a step back. You don’t even know if this is Levi. The windows are tinted and you don’t know his plate number or car model. 

Before you can pull up your phone to ask Levi, the car window rolls down, revealing the man himself. 

“Get in,” he says curtly, his expression composed as ever. 

You open the door and slide into the passenger seat, immediately noticing the immaculate interior. The leather seats are impeccably clean, and the subtle scent of expensive cologne fills the air. You wouldn’t expect less from Levi. He glances at you briefly before shifting the car into gear. 

Although you want to look at him, you avoid doing that and avert your gaze beyond the car itself and to your surroundings. The people in your neighborhood still watched the vehicle even as Levi drove away. They don’t seem to be in awe of the car. Somehow, they looked wary… maybe even afraid? You found this strange but brush it away. Maybe it’s just weird seeing a different social class driving along The Underground. Maybe you were just reading into it too much. 

Levi is silent the whole ride. He navigates the streets with precision, every turn and lane change executed flawlessly. The car’s performance seems like a natural extension of Levi’s own skills and discipline.

As you reach your destination, Levi parks the car with the same precision he’s shown throughout the drive. He looks at you, his eyes sharp yet calm. You stare back. He doesn’t look like he’s gonna say anything so you open your mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” he beats you to it. “If you’re going to say something about what happened in the elevator. Just don’t.”

You were taken aback and you remember his face when you left. Guilt consumes you once again but you don’t let it show on your face. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you mumbled. “I was gonna say that you could leave me here. I know Hange probably forced you to come. I think I can find my way back from here.”

“Tch,” he responds with his usual expression. 

He gets out of the car without a word for you to follow and yet you do so anyway. You gave him a choice to leave but he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. You wondered if it’s also his day off. What could his job be? Maybe an office job or managing the restaurant? Could Kuchel’s still be up and running? You hope it is. Although you want to visit Levi’s mother, you’re not sure if she would welcome you like before. 

The wedding boutique’s interior is just as sophisticated as its exterior. Soft lighting illuminates racks of exquisite dresses, each piece more stunning than the last. The air is filled with the subtle scent of fresh flowers, adding to the refined atmosphere.

A sales assistant approaches, eyes shifting from you to Levi. “Good morning, ma’am and sir. Looking for a wedding dress?” 

You and Levi take an awkward glance at each other before he clears his throat. “No. We’re here for the ten o’clock appointment. The refitting?” He states simply. 

The sales assistant nods enthusiastically, apologizing for her mistake. “Ah, yes! For Ms. Zoe’s bridesmaid. Please wait here.” 

She ushered you both to a waiting area. You sit side by side on the couch. There are racks of wedding dresses around you and on mannequins. You take your time to admire them while Levi scrolls through his phone. 

You’re happy for Hange that she’s settling down. She looked really happy with Moblit and he seemed utterly in love with her as well. Although her personality hasn’t changed, there seemed to be some maturity around her that you weren’t familiar with. 

At the moment, marriage isn’t something that you can see yourself in. But god, the dresses are so pretty. You don’t really get to wear gowns like that. 

For a moment, you think about it, maybe as a result of you haven’t eaten breakfast. If a ring adorned your finger, what wedding dress would you like best? You think you’d like something with a petticoat, something that would make you feel like a princess. Your eyes caught one that you adored. It’s on a mannequin. You could picture yourself wearing it. In all honesty, this is the first time you’ve thought about weddings in years. And you do see the irony of doing that with your ex-boyfriend sitting beside you. 

Your trail of thoughts were cut off when the sales assistant came out from the room she went into. “Miss, we’re ready for you here. Your boyfriend can accompany you inside.” She points to the room with a gesture of her palms laid outwards. 

“Not her boyfriend,” Levi nonchalantly reacts and the disgust in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give the girl an awkward smile. He wasn’t wrong and yet you can’t help but feel offended at the way he reacted so quickly as if he found the thought repulsive. 

“He’ll stay here. Or leave… if he wants to.” You give him a glance to which he scoffed at. The sales assistant awkwardly laughs, seemingly noticing the tension in the room. 

“Ah, I’m sorry again for assuming. Please forgive me. Do you need any refreshments as you wait here, sir?” She asks Levi while you stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

“No, thank you.” Levi stands up from his seat and you could see the sales assistant’s eyes wilter for a moment at his rejection. God, he’s rude. 

“I’ll be coming inside as well,” he continues, shocking you. 

“What? You don’t have to do that,” you whisper to his side. 

He doesn’t take no for an answer, heading inside first and brushing past you. You look up at the ceiling, praying nothings above to give you enough patience for this time.

You stood in front of the mirror, tugging the waist of the dress. It was a tube top, which you don’t often wear. Sleeves accompany your arms most of the time and right now? They feel naked. Despite that, the dress is nice. The fabric hugged you in all the right places. But your nerves were more due to the fact that Levi was sitting just a few feet away, casually scrolling through his phone. You hate to admit that until now, he still makes you nervous.

Levi hadn’t even looked up when she stepped out of the dressing room. He was sitting straight up in the plush chair, legs crossed, looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. His dark hair flopped slightly over his forehead, and his posture was so relaxed it bordered on dismissive. And you were right, he is scrolling and typing on his phone like his mind is entirely somewhere else.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Magnifique!” The tailor clasped his hands, catching Levi’s attention. 

He looks up and drags his eyes up and down your form. It took all of you not to show your nervousness at his reaction. And yet, like a child waiting, you look at the people in the room with a smile.

“How’s it look?” you asked, your voice trying to sound casual, but the weight of the situation made it come out more forced than you intended.

Levi doesn’t take his eyes off you as you asked, just for a moment, then back at his phone. “Looks fine,” he muttered, tapping at the screen.

Your smile faltered. You turned back to the mirror, adjusting the tube in the hope of distracting yourself from the pang of disappointment in her chest. You weren’t sure why you expected him to be more... invested. He was here as a favor to Hange, your mutual friend. Not to you. 

“Is something wrong, madame?” The tailor asked.

Your eyes widened as your eyes shifted to the reflection of the tailor in the mirror and you shook your head. “Oh! Nothing, no. It’s just… I’m not really used to wearing tube top dresses. Don’t my arms look kind of awkward?” 

“Nonsense, madame. You look beautiful!” The joyful tailor said flamboyantly. 

You purse your lips, looking at your reflection again. This was all so sudden and you kinda wished you had more time to prepare. It’s been a while since you dressed up like this. It’s like seeing yourself in a whole different light. After focusing on your career and all, you guess you’ve neglected your appearance. 

The tailor noticed your silence. “But if you’re uncomfortable, we can add straps or alter it to your liking. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, please don’t. You don’t have to do that,” you tell her. “It’s perfect.” The thought of imposing more will only burden you and make you more uncomfortable. Anyway, you’ll only be wearing it for a day. 

The tailor nods. “So this measurement is good, then.”

“Yes, I think I’m done here,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now.

As you stepped back into the dressing room to change, you could hear him tapping away on his phone again, already checked out of the moment. You took a deep breath. You sighed quietly, fiddling with your hair as you stared at your reflection. You weren’t sure why you felt disappointed at his reaction. It was like he found it repulsive to even look at you. It made you wonder… does he still find you attractive? You hated that it bothered you this much. 

It took you a while to change, carefully taking the dress off without misplacing the pins and all. When you emerged from the dressing room, Levi was nowhere to be found. It only made you feel worse. But at least your stomach was no longer in knots. It always felt that way when he was in sight. 

You approached the sales assistant who was also in the room, obligated to give her an apology for how Levi reacted. She smiles when you reach her and tells you that the tailor began to work on the dress and had stepped out.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. He’s rude but he’s not always like that,” you tell her but you know it’s half a lie. Levi doesn’t really do well with strangers, especially if he’s in a bad mood. You guessed he hasn’t really at all changed. There’s still that introvert inside him. Or maybe you just trigger it with your presence. 

The sales assistant gives you a reassuring smile, a genuine one that you differentiated from her usual customer service one. “It’s fine, ma’am. I experienced worse…” 

Her last words trail before she paused for a while, stopping herself as if she wanted to say something else. You tilt your head in curiosity. “What is it?”

“Nothing ma’am. It’s just… I thought you were a couple because of how he was looking at you when you weren’t looking,” she replied shyly, a hand scratching the back of her neck.

Your smile drops as you hear what she had to say, that fluttering feeling in your stomach that had gone dormant in years was alive once again. 

“What?” you mutter, feeling your face heat up. 

“I’m sorry. I think I overstepped once again, ma’am.”

“You’re not, don’t worry about it,” you assure her. You point at the door with your thumb. “Is he still outside?”

“He stepped out. But his car is still outside so I don’t think he left, ma’am.” 

The sales assistant redirects you back to the waiting area. As she does, you take your phone out of your bag and pull out your messaging app to text the same number who called you earlier. 

Where did you go?

Had something urgent. My secretary will drive you.

As if on cue, the front door’s bell dings, indicating it had just been open and boy probably in his early twenties walks in. He has a buzz cut and a shining glimmer in his eyes. He wears a polo shirt and slacks. 

“O-Oh, you’re done, miss?” He says as his eyes land on you. Your mouth parts, unsure why this stranger is addressing you. He says your name as a question and you nod in confusion.

“Ah! Pardon me. My name is Connie. I’m Mr. Levi’s personal secretary. He asked me to fetch and drive you. He was needed there.” 

Secretary? Not only does he have an Audi, he has an assistant running errands for him on a Sunday? And how could he just leave without telling you? 

You smiled at Connie. Although you don’t find the stranger suspicious, it’s still a bit much to get in the car with him. It’s more of you thinking you’d be imposing. He could be doing better things. 

“You don’t need to do that, Connie. I can get home by myself.”

Connie’s eyes widened and he brought his hands up frantically waving. “No, no, no. I have specific orders from Sir Levi. I also have breakfast for you ready in the car.” 

That caught you off guard. Breakfast? He got you breakfast? 

“Levi asked you to get me breakfast?” 

“Yes, ma’am. He was very specific with what to get.”

“What?”

“Oh crap,” he mutters to himself as if it wasn’t information that he should’ve disclosed to you. “Can we go to the car now, ma’am?” 

In a trance of thoughts, you nod aimlessly and follow the boy outside. He guides you to the car and even opens the door for you. He sits you on the backseat. Connie enters the car to the driver’s seat. 

“How long have you been working for Levi, Connie?”

Striking up a conversation seemed like a good idea instead of sitting in silence and so you did just that. As you speak, Connie hands you a paper bag that rested from where you sat earlier in the morning, making you mumble a quick thank you as you accepted it. 

“I’ve been working with Mr. Ackerman for years,” he said proudly, grinning.

“Years? He must really like you then,” you said, amused and chuckling.

“I really hope he does, ma’am. It was tough, if you know what I mean?” He gives you a mischievous look through the rearview mirror. “Don’t tell him this but I used to cry in the comfort room in the first month that I worked for him.” 

A three-second silence in the car and he immediately takes back what he said. “Shit. Overshared. Sorry.”

You huffed and let out an amused chuckle that turned into laughter. Connie laughs back, bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his head. He did that twice already, you gathered by now that it’s a mannerism. 

“I can see why he does, you know, why he likes you,” you shared. “He needs people like you,” you added. 

Levi keeps people around his life when he likes them. Erwin keeps him in check. Hange pulls him out of his shell. And you? What was your purpose in his life? What did you have to offer him back when you had him? 

Your eyes drift to the paper bag beside you. Peeking through it, you see a green drink and pastry. Matcha and Blueberry muffin. Your heart swells and you have to close your lids to stop the overwhelming emotions that threaten to come out. The smell is purely nostalgia. 

The quiet hum of fluorescent lights was the only sound that punctuated the silence of the library as you huddled over her textbooks, your brow furrowed in concentration. The dusty scent of old paper and leather bound you in a cocoon of academia, the world beyond the heavy oak doors fading into insignificance.

In the middle of you losing yourself in a particular chapter of your reading, a soft but familiar deep voice broke through the stillness. “You’ve been here all morning?” 

You looked up to see Levi standing there, arms crossed and giving you a concerned look. 

He slipped into the chair across from you, his presence is warm and comforting, a disruption to your heavy mind and the coldness of the place. 

“Yeah, I’m almost finished with this reading,” you whisper to him. 

“Have you eaten, at least?” He asked, pulling out his laptop.

“Yeah,” you replied back, nonchalant and obviously lying. You know he doesn’t like it when you skip breakfast and always argues when you don’t. You were never really big on breakfast, you never felt the need for it. You don't like the feeling of being full in the morning. However, Levi lived a life with a cook for a mother, so having breakfast was a must in his vocabulary. Most of your life was spent hustling. Being fast. Mornings were made up of getting ready, having half a cup of coffee, and making your way to school early in the morning. 

“You’re lying,” he states the obvious with disappointment in his voice.

“It’s almost 10. It’s just two hours before lunch time anyway,” you shrug. 

“That’s bullshit,” he replied, shaking his head.

Erwin and Hange came by as he said it, following Levi like the trio that they are. 

“Can you lovebirds not argue in the library?” Erwin whispered as the two of them sat down. 

Levi slides out of his chair quietly while turning down his laptop screen. 

“Get up,” he demanded straight at you. You look up at him, confused and a bit annoyed. You were almost done with the reading. 

“I’m almost done,” you refused, burying your face back on the paper. 

Levi sighed audibly, the kind of sigh that meant he wasn’t going to drop it anytime soon. You could feel his eyes on you, unwavering and expectant. The weight of his gaze was enough to break your concentration on the reading. It was like a silent battle, one you knew you wouldn’t win, not when it came to Levi and his insistence on taking care of you in his own stubborn way.

“Get up,” he repeated, voice firmer this time. He wasn’t budging, and you knew he’d stand there as long as it took for you to listen.

You glanced up at him, your expression caught between exasperation and defeat. He wasn’t about to let this go, and as much as you wanted to finish your chapter, you could already feel the familiar pull of his unspoken concern. Levi’s brand of care was persistent, never showy, but impossible to ignore.

Hange leaned over the table, grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Better do what he says, or we’re all going to hear about it for the rest of the day.”

“Come on, just humor him,” Erwin added with a slight smirk, though he kept his voice low in the quiet library.

Levi didn’t wait for your reply this time. With a swift motion, he closed your book gently but decisively, tucking it under his arm. His other hand reached out, hovering near you, but not touching—an offering, rather than a demand. He wasn’t going to drag you out, but his patience was running thin.

“Let’s go,” he said, more quietly now, his tone softening just a little. “Five minutes. We’ll grab something, and you can finish your reading after.”

You wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes—steady, unrelenting—told you it was a lost cause. It wasn’t really about the food. It was about him needing to make sure you were okay, even when you didn’t think it mattered. 

With a resigned sigh, you stood up, brushing off the nonexistent dust on your jeans. “Fine,” you muttered, though the fight had gone out of your voice.

Levi gave a small nod of approval, turning toward the door without a word. You followed, casting one last glance at the table and the chapter you had been so close to finishing. Hange gave you a teasing wink as you passed, and Erwin, ever the composed one, simply smiled knowingly.

As the two of you stepped out into the crisp morning air, the library’s warmth replaced by the gentle chill, Levi’s pace slowed just enough for you to fall in step beside him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. The silence between you was comfortable, like slipping into something familiar, something safe. Despite his earlier gruffness, Levi’s presence was calming, grounding. 

After a few minutes of walking, he broke the silence. “There’s a café around the corner. You’ll like it. They’ve got good tea.”

“Not coffee?” you teased lightly, trying to lift the mood.

“Figured tea would go easier on you,” he replied, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips twitched, almost like he was trying to hide a smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back, a small one, but genuine. Levi always had this way of knowing what you needed, even when you didn’t ask. He was stubborn, but his quiet care ran deeper than words could ever express.

As you walked together, the tension from the morning dissolved, leaving behind a warmth that wasn’t just from the sun filtering through the trees. It was the kind of warmth that only Levi brought with him—steady, comforting, and constant, even when you didn’t realize you needed it.

You took a moment to breathe, the cool air outside replaced by the comforting warmth of the café. The stack of readings and the stress from earlier seemed to slip away, replaced by the calm of the moment. When Levi returned, he set a cup of matcha in front of you and a plate with two blueberry muffins.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were just grabbing something quick.”

He slid into the chair across from you, his own cup of black tea in hand. “You need more than just tea. Eat.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his insistence but reached for a muffin anyway. The soft texture and burst of blueberry sweetness were enough to remind you just how hungry you actually were. You took a bite, and Levi watched you, sipping his tea silently, but his expression was lighter now, less tense.

“Better?” he asked, though it was less of a question and more of a check-in, like he needed to hear you confirm it.

“Better,” you admitted, taking another bite.

He nodded once, satisfied, and turned his attention to his tea. The steam rose from his cup, and he closed his eyes briefly as he took a slow sip, savoring the warmth. You watched him for a moment, appreciating how he could find calm in the simplest things—like the taste of tea or the quiet atmosphere of a small café.

“So, you’ve got me here, eating muffins,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’s the plan? Gonna keep babysitting me, or can I finish my reading after this?”

Levi smirked, setting his cup down. “You can finish your reading after this. Just didn’t want you passing out in the middle of it.” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of concern behind his words, subtle but there.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t pass out.”

“Right,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you’ve never done that before?”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly what he was referring to. That one time during finals week… but that was different. You’d been exhausted from back-to-back exams. Still, Levi wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of pushing yourself too hard.

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you conceded, taking a sip of your matcha. “Thanks, by the way. For this.”

Levi gave a small shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “No need to thank me. Just don’t make it a habit.”

You smiled at that, though a part of you was still processing the strange dynamic between you two. Levi was always there when it mattered, even when things were complicated between you. He wasn’t the type to make grand gestures, but he showed up in these small, quiet ways—making sure you ate, pulling you out of your own head, grounding you when you didn’t even realize you needed it.

You nodded, taking another bite of your muffin, content to sit in comfortable silence as you both worked. Occasionally, Levi’s eyes would flicker up from his screen to check on you, a small gesture you pretended not to notice.

As the morning stretched into midday, the café buzzed quietly around you, but in this little corner by the window, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. The warmth of the matcha, the sweetness of the blueberry muffins, and Levi’s steady presence beside you made everything feel lighter, less daunting.

Since then, it became a routine for the two of you. Blueberry muffins and matcha. The perfect way to start your day with your boyfriend, Levi. 

In your apartment, you sat at the table, cradling a warm cup of matcha between your hands, the aroma of the freshly baked blueberry muffins filling the air. It was something familiar, something comforting. You absentmindedly pulled off a piece of the muffin, the tart sweetness of the blueberries mingling with the warmth of the soft pastry, and let it linger on your tongue. It was a flavor that always brought you back to him, to Levi.

For a brief moment, you missed the way it was—if the distance between you two wasn’t so carefully maintained. You wondered what it would feel like to feel his warmth again. But you pushed the thought aside. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough. And for once, you let yourself enjoy it.

The stillness of the apartment, the absence of his voice or the low, comforting rumble of him sipping tea across from you—these were the things that haunted the corners of your mind when you least expected it. 

You sipped the matcha slowly, closing your eyes for a moment, letting its earthy flavor settle in your chest. You could almost hear him scolding you, telling you to eat something more substantial, to stop skipping meals. His voice was still so clear in your head, even though he wouldn’t do that anymore. You smiled faintly at the thought, more out of habit than anything else.

The muffin in front of you sat half-eaten, but you weren’t really hungry. Not in the way Levi always worried about. You picked at it absentmindedly, your mind drifting back to those mornings in the café, where everything felt like it was on pause—like whatever was broken between you two didn’t matter in that quiet space. You’d sit there, stealing glances at each other, filling the air with comfortable silence, pretending for a little while that nothing had changed.

But everything had. 

You took another sip of your drink, eyes drifting toward the window. The city outside was bustling, indifferent to the quiet memories you clung to. Life moved forward, as it always did. It was more of a soft ache, the kind that settled in the background, always there but not overwhelming. You’d made peace with the fact that it had ended, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss the way things had been—how easy it was to just be around him, how he knew you better than most people, even in the smallest ways. 

Earl’s soft purr pulls you out of your thoughts for a moment and you watch as he jumps from the other chair to your lap. You pet his head and chuckle a little.

“Earl Grey, you were named after his eyes, you know?” 

And then after the longest time, you let yourself drop a tear for him. Then came another. And another. 

The day went by pretty quickly. It was late when the knock at your door came, breaking the peaceful stillness of your apartment. You were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through a book you had already read twice. Earl, your cat, was nestled on your lap, purring softly as he kneaded into your blanket. You weren’t expecting anyone, but a small part of you, maybe even hopeful, already knew who it was. 

You stood up, setting the book aside and carefully placing Earl on the couch, his displeased meow following you as you made your way to the door. When you opened it, there was Levi, standing in the dim light of the hallway, hands in his pockets, looking as stoic and nonchalant as ever.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding up your handkerchief—the one you had carelessly left in the passenger seat of his car earlier that day. It was checkered pink with your name at the corner, one of the few your grandmother had embroidered herself for you. 

You stared at the handkerchief for a moment, surprised he’d come all the way back just for that. “You didn’t have to come all this way, Levi,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the soft gratitude in your voice.

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Figured you’d want it back.” 

His eyes flickered past you, into the warm light of your apartment, where Earl was now perched on the back of the couch, eyeing Levi with a curious but lazy gaze.

Levi noticed the cat immediately, his expression softening just a fraction. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he remarked, his voice low as he took a step inside, uninvited but not unwelcome. He quietly removes his shoes and puts them beside your outdoor shoes. Confused but accepting, you close your door and approach the two.

“Yeah, Earl,” you replied, following his gaze to the fluffy black cat now making his way down from the couch, padding silently toward Levi like he was sizing him up. 

Earl stopped a few feet from Levi, sitting down elegantly and staring up at him, his green eyes narrowing as if judging whether or not this stranger was worth his attention. Levi, to your surprise, crouched down slightly, meeting the cat’s gaze without blinking. It was such a Levi thing to do—silent, direct, and somehow commanding without even trying.

“Earl, huh?” Levi muttered. “He’s got a lot of attitude for a cat.”

You chuckled softly, watching as Earl sniffed at Levi’s shoes before giving a satisfied flick of his tail and brushing against Levi’s legs. You didn’t expect Earl to warm up so quickly, but there he was, already purring as Levi reached out to scratch behind his ears.

“Guess he likes you,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “He doesn’t do that with most people.”

Levi glanced up at you, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Smart cat,” he said, standing back up. “Knows who to trust.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment, lingering with a weight neither of you wanted to address. You weren’t sure how to respond, so instead, you bent down and scooped Earl up, holding him close to your chest as his purring grew louder.

Levi handed you the handkerchief, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you took it from him. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice softer now.

“Yeah, no problem.” He shifted on his feet, glancing around the apartment briefly, like he was trying to decide whether or not to stay longer.

“I apologize for leaving abruptly earlier,” he pauses for a while before continuing. “I had something urgent.”

“As you and your secretary told me,” you answer. You weren’t really holding a grudge about that. You don’t know why he came all this way to tell you that. “Thank you for the breakfast, by the way.” 

He gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and unspoken. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

For a brief second, the two of you stood there in the living room, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you both. Earl wiggled in your arms, clearly done with the moment, and you set him back down, watching as he padded off toward his bed near the window.

“I… haven’t.” 

“Do you want me to cook something?” It was a simple offer, but it felt heavy between you. Levi blinked, like the question caught him off guard, though he masked it quickly.

“To pay for the breakfast,” you add quickly with an awkward smile. 

“Yeah,” he said after a pause, his voice steady. “I could stay.”

You felt a strange wave of relief, mixed with nervousness. It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared meals with him before, but this felt different now. 

“Well, I wasn’t planning anything fancy,” you said, moving toward the kitchen, feeling a bit unsure of yourself. “But I could make us something quick. Pasta okay?”

Levi leaned against the counter, watching you as you opened the fridge. “Pasta’s fine,” he replied.

He didn’t respond, but you caught the subtle twitch of his lips. It felt almost normal—like slipping back into an old routine without realizing it.

As you started boiling water and prepping ingredients, Levi moved around the small kitchen, grabbing plates and silverware, his movements as efficient and familiar as ever. Neither of you spoke much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the soft clattering of utensils and the rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables.

His attention is briefly on Earl, who had taken to watching Levi’s every move with mild curiosity. “Your cat’s a stalker.”

You chuckled, tossing some garlic into the pan. “He’s just making sure you’re not a threat.”

“You said he liked me,” Levi muttered again, though you could tell he didn’t mind Earl’s presence at all. In fact, it seemed like Levi was actually enjoying the quiet company of the little observer.

As you cooked, the kitchen filled with the comforting scent of garlic and olive oil, the sizzle of the pan a soothing backdrop. Levi set the table quietly, his movements almost instinctive, like he’d done this a hundred times before. The two of you worked in sync, no need for instructions or small talk, just moving around each other as if nothing had changed.

When the pasta was done, you brought the pot over to the table, serving two generous portions. Levi settled into the chair across from you, picking up his fork and twirling the pasta around it. The first bite was met with a small nod of approval from him.

“Still the same,” he said, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the cooking or the way you fit so naturally into this space together.

You smiled, taking a bite yourself. “I had a good teacher,” you say, thinking about the raven-haired woman who Levi holds so dearly in his heart. You miss her in these kinds of moments, you wondered how she felt about you now. 

“How’s Kuchel?” 

“The same,” he answers shortly. “Everything in this city has changed except for her.”

You wondered what he meant by that. But in the sake of keeping up the small talk, you say the first words that pop up in your mind. 

“You don’t look like you changed at all, either.”

You really didn’t mean it in a bad way. But it seemed to have triggered something in your meal companion. His jaw clenches before chewing faster. Your heart races when you notice it upset him.

“And you haven’t either,” he responds, a bitter malice in his tone.

“I don’t mean it like that,” you try to save the peace that enveloped you two a minute ago. 

He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, afraid you’d say anything bad to upset him enough to leave with his meal unfinished. You don’t want that. In fact, you didn’t want him to leave. But you don’t want to admit that to yourself either. 

The meal continued in a comfortable silence after, broken occasionally by the sound of Earl jumping down from the windowsill to investigate Levi’s shoes or the clinking of silverware against plates. There was something surreal about the moment—sharing a simple meal in your apartment, after everything that had happened, after the years of space between you. 

Levi finished his plate first, as always, but instead of standing up to leave, he leaned back in his chair, watching as you took another bite, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, his voice low but genuine. You nod in response. 

For a moment, the air felt thick with all the things you hadn’t said to each other—the unspoken words, the history that lingered between you, and the quiet understanding that neither of you had been able to let go of entirely.

“Yeah,” you replied, setting your fork down and meeting his eyes.

For a moment, the air felt thick with all the things you hadn’t said to each other—the unspoken words, the history that lingered between you, and the quiet understanding that neither of you had been able to let go of entirely.

Levi broke the silence first, his voice quieter than before. “I should go.”

He shifted on his feet, ready to leave. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” you agree, looking at the wall clock. It’s almost past nine. 

You followed as he walked through your apartment. You watched how he put on his shoes and brushed his clothes straight. You open the door for him, heart racing as you stare at him quietly. For a brief second, the two of you stood there in the doorway, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you both.

Levi took a step back, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment longer. “Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice low but carrying a quiet sincerity that you hadn’t expected.

“I will,” you replied, managing a small smile. “And Levi?”

He paused, looking at you expectantly.

“Thanks again. For today. And for coming by.”

He gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but there was something in his eyes—something soft and unspoken. “See you around,” he said, before turning and walking back down the hallway.

You watched him go, the door slowly closing behind him. Earl returned to your side, nudging your leg before jumping back onto the couch. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling a little emptier without Levi in it.

You settled back on the couch, Earl curling up beside you again, his purring filling the silence. You reached for the handkerchief in your pajama short’s pocket. The handkerchief in your hand, a small, simple thing, but somehow it felt heavier now—like it carried more than just the memory of your grandmother. 

In the quiet, you wondered if this was how it would always be between you and Levi—brief moments, small gestures, and unspoken words that never quite filled the space between you.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[cephei-ea]

Memento (Geto)

CHAPTER ONE

Warnings: angst, derogatory slang (ball gargler), suggestive themes, yandere

Genre: Comfort, Angst

Word count: 2.7k

╭─────────────────.★..─╮

Suguru was different than the rest. At least that’s what you thought, having known him for so many years now. He’d always stood out. While others threw tantrums, he remained stoic, while others ogled, he respected, while others lied, he remained honest, while others judged, he remained understanding.

Suguru was always a safe space for you. That’s what you thought, having spent so many months and so many years by his side after his defect. The defect hardly mattered, nor did his tendency to lash out at the followers, or his distaste for “monkeys” or his switch to psychotic behavior.

You loved Suguru through and through. He was your home, your person, your moral compass, despite his lack thereof, and your ambition.

Now, as you both stood atop a rooftop, gazing out over the city below, his hair brushing past his shoulder and blustering out behind him. For the first time in weeks, and something that really only happened in front of you, he wore clothes that you thought suited him a bit better than those robes he constantly brandished. Something cleaner and more simple, a black t shirt a size too small and a pair of sweatpants with their usual sag near his ankles.

You would never admit it to Suguru, in fear of how he would react, but you’d spent the better part of your afternoon at Jujutsu High, speaking with Satoru. If Suguru found about your meeting behind his back, well… you were sure he wouldn’t take it well. At all. But it wasn’t any attempt to betray him, or break his trust. Rather, Satoru asked to meet, as he did every now and then; maybe once or twice every few months. Because whether Suguru realized it or not, his best friend still cared about him enough to contact his… lover(?) in hopes that you would catch up and tell him how everything’s going. If Geto was okay, if he still held bags under his eyes and if he still walked about brooding and the seeming epitome of depression.

So that’s what he did. Every couple of months, you’d receive a call from “DNI” on your phone, asking you to meet either at his house, the high school you once attended and taught at or at a park in order to simply catch up. It was nice, really. Not just to be able to catch a break from the responsibilities of being Geto Sugurus right hand and… lover(? [Or whatever you were to him]), but also speaking with Gojo calmly, without any qualms after so many years apart.

<<<

“Thanks for coming.” Satoru was always smiling, noting the absence of a smile on your face, and the way your expression had drastically changed. “I know it was a bit of a stretch, asking you to meet up.” He continues. The depressive look that had finally vanished from Sugurus eyes was replaced, perhaps stolen, by the same look you once bore, of brightness and certainty. You’d taken on new burdens and Suguru had released them. Heavy bags ran evento your eyelids, your cheeks carved in tighter and the clothes you once wore confidently becoming a size too big.

If seeing Suguru los himself in the same way only to defect hadn’t hurt Satoru, this surely had. Perhaps because the blame for his other friend losing herself could be placed entirely on Suguru or perhaps because the person you’d become was the plain opposite of who he knew you were. Or maybe because he wish he could help more, because the new version of you was more of a stretch from your true self than it was for Suguru or because he simply couldn’t watch it happen again.

“Satoru.” You try a smile, though it’s a shell of what it once was. The sight sends a chill through Gojo. It was as if you and Geto had entirely traded demeanors. A shame, and almost sickening to see, consider in the way you’d stuck by him following his defect. “It’s been a while.” The words are genuine but speaking alone is like spice on your tongue, a sharp reminder of your sore throat. There were so many potential causes, all being some direct or indirect result of accompanying Suguru. Sickness, his crudity the night prior, or the laughable amount of sobbing you still did every night. Whatever it was, you still held no regrets and told yourself you’d follow him to defect in every timeline and in every universe.

You loved Suguru.

“You look like shit.” Gojo said, the second thing he’d really said to you since the last time you saw him, so many months ago. You huffed a breath of humor. But suddenly, the playful lilt in his voice was gone and so was your attempt at a smile, your eye bags weighing you down. “What’s he done to you?” You didn’t answer when he asked, because really, he hadn’t done anything. You shook your head.

“Satoru. You have to understand how difficult this decision was for me.” You explained, finally able to explain your side. “The way I look now is no one’s fault but mine.” Satoru opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It was my decision to follow him and lead this life. The consequences are just…” you tried to explain but your throat closed up. “We’re more different than I thought we were.” Your tone was guilty, your voice shaking. Gojo shot you a look that was all but pitiful, his fists enclosing at his sides and the air filling with tension. “Don’t look at me like that.” you whispered, sighing. “I’ve second guessed myself enough, I can’t start regretting things now.”

He stepped forward and his hand was in yours, pulling you along to the desk chair. “I don’t pity you.” He explained, though his expression doesn’t waver and you grit your teeth. “You made the decision a lot of us were too scared to make.”

>>>

So every two months, you and Satoru would catch up, him bragging about his new students and you expressing your deepening love for Suguru, despite your differences. It had been nearly 2 years of this trend before you made a mistake. You’d spent just a little too long at Satorus house gaming and playing card games. It came out of no where, one night on the rooftop when Suguru turned to you after a few moments of silence.

A big smile split his face so you reached for his hand, offering a small one in return. “Sugu~ Should we make plans for a date this weekend? We still have a couple of days.” He intertwined your fingers before leaning forward to press a kiss onto your lips, consuming your mind whole like always.

It wasn’t long before his thin eyes were staring you down, a change in mood so sudden you almost flinched, his smile faded. The darkened bags under your eyes had not subsided, only deepened.

“Where have you been?” He asked, the night air chilly and the goosebumps on your skin evident beneath his touch against your neck. He all but ignored your suggestion, his grip tightening and his eyes boring into yours. It was clear to you, though maybe not to anyone else, Suguru was angry. “All day, while I was working with those monkeys to achieve our goals?” His voice deepened as he spoke, still the smooth and entrancing melody it always had been. There was a falling of his features, a darkening in his eyes and a pinch between his eyes.

“W…” you began, voice small and fearful. You’d always been a bit on edge around Suguru. After all he was Geto Suguru, the second most powerful sorcerer and a man who had time and time again shown how far he was willing to go, how much he was capable of changing and how ready he was to abandon everything he once claimed as his, in order to reach his goals and regardless of how unreasonable they seemed. “What?”

Of course while Satoru held the title of the strongest, he was the epitome of bubbles and sunshine.

Suguru was different in that regard, brandishing an aura that told all those around him that he was a dangerous man with a willpower and ability to detach that rivaled even the most stoic of warriors.

So when Sugurus body turned to yours and he stepped forward, you stepped back. Of course this only alerted him more.

“You reek of Satoru.” It was expected that Geto would be angry. His voice filling with a tone of betrayal and distaste. Still, the man was calm in lifting a his nose to a lock of your hair and inhaling the scent of his former best friend. Questions berated at his mind: Why had you done this? How did you hide it from him until now? When did you find the time to visit Gojo? Where had it even happened? But Geto remained silent, a silent expectance between you to know what he was thinking.

“Suguru it’s not-“ you tried for an explanation. No matter what you could say, it was all incriminating and nothing was good enough of an excuse to go behind his back. “I.. I didn’t do it to hurt you.” Suguru wrapped his lithe fingers around your upper arm and yanked you toward him, nearing his face to your neck and pushing your hair away to brush his nose against your skin. His voice was in your ear, a chill reminder of his uncanny control over you. His hand ran from your neck down your sternum and to your waist.

“I’ll kill both of you.” He hushed against your ear, a warning. You knew Satoru was stronger, but you also knew Suguru was being honest, and would die trying. It was that known sense of determination and unfiltered anger that scared you. The threat reverberated in your ear, making your chest pound with nerves. Then, you knew he had the wrong idea because of the way he pulled you against his body and looked down at you.

“Sugur, it wasn’t like that-“ he was quick to interrupt you, pressing his fingers into your back. Instead of coming off as a threat, it only spurred your reeling mind on, his touch a sharp contradiction to his cruel words.

“Going to another man’s house behind my back ‘wasn’t like that’?” You had no explanation really, only guilt and a heart that was easily swayed by your feelings for him. “I mean if you were gonna get with another man, you should have at least done a better job at hiding it-“ he plucked a white strand of hair from your shirt, eyeing it as it floated to the ground.

“-No!! No, Suguru, I promise you it’s not what you’re thinking!” You grabbed his hands in yours and watched as the pinch between his eyes dispersed, bringing up his palms to your face and holding him close. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” He still held a look of suspicion, his fingertips then coming to brush against your skin.

“How is he?” Geto briefly changed the subject, gripping and tilting your head to the sides and pulling your shirt down just past each of your shoulders and then your collarbone to view your chest. Checking for any bruises or marks or… lovebites. The thought made him sick. The situation you two were in made him sick.

Your breath hitched in your throat, his touch like fire against your skin and leaving flames of desire in their wake.

“He’s good. He asked about you.” You smiled, his finger releasing your shirt only to grip your elbows and run up to the side of your head, haphazardly pushing away any hairs that followed the wind to obstruct his view of your face. “He misses you so much, so does Shoko.” Your face molded with sentiment, meeting his brown eyes, chocolate coated and sweet as such. “You know that, right?” You reached for his hand and pressed closer, not daring to mention his suspicion of you.

Suguru didn’t answer. Instead, he reached to get your hand in his and looked back into your eyes. “I don’t really want to hear it.” You sighed, but there was hint of emotion in his face you knew he kept well guarded.

Hurt?

A squinting in his eyes, the raise of his brows and pinches at the corners of his lips. “Especially when you went to visit Satoru.” His voice is dangerously low, offering you no comfort or inkling of a moment to explain any further. “At his apartment.” In all fairness, it was hard to question why Geto cared so much, seeing as he’d made it a point to ignore all your desires for a genuine relationship with him. Rather than blatantly ignoring you, he’d strung you along for years now.

At some level, it was more than you could hope for that he even allowed you to stick around. Much less that he allowed you in his bed every night. Then at some level, you thought it was the least you deserved to receive a proper relationship from him.

You loved each other, didn’t you?

“Suguru I told you it wasn’t like that-“

“Does it really matter what it was ‘like’ when you went to his apartment alone, to do God knows what?” He paused, the scowl on his features was not leaving room for another word from you, so you glued your lips shut. “What have you been doing all day that you smell like him???” The anger in his face was only growing with every moment. What could you really say? You knew it was wrong to go behind his back. And if it wasn’t, it gnawed at your heart every two months, as though you were doing Suguru a disservice, if not disrespecting him. “Did you fuck him?” He asked with a lilt in his voice that told you he was jumping to conclusions.

“God Suguru do you have to be so crude?” You scoffed and ripped away from his hold. “Of course I didn’t fuck him; we spoke.” Suguru looked out on the city below, and you knew he was not listening, only hearing your words. “Because when I decided to stick by your side for years and when I joined you back then, I left behind everything.” Your throat was closing up and the sting behind your eyes told you it was time to end the conversation. “And everyone I cared for.” The bump in your lovers throat bobbed and he still couldn’t meet your eye. “For you. Because you were worth losing everything for.” And you took a step back because the proximity was making you want to cave in on yourself. “They were my friends, too, Suguru. Except I wasn’t caught up in my own head and I still loved them when we left.” Suguru only allowed his facial muscles to relax.

“I gave you the option to stay behind. I made sure you knew that you didn’t have to stay. If you’re saying you’re regretting that now, then I guess Satoru is having more of an affect on you than I thought.” Where you stood now, there was no chance to indulge in the cool night air to calm your heated nerves. What you knew was that you needed to be away from Suguru.

You sat at the edge of a nearby dam, the concrete beneath chilling and the view far below just a slight switch from what was normal, a bit of thrill in the otherwise boring maze of a life you’d trapped yourself in. Ever since the night that Suguru cornered you, or maybe before that, things were different. At least for you, the once heavy weight that rested on your shoulders while being at Sugurus side now felt as though it doubled. This wasn’t you, never had been. And when you thought about it, Suguru must have known as well, because when he looked at you, his gaze held a sense of familiarity and recognition he’d not seen in you until recently. That warm sympathy in his eyes that he dared not mention, partially because of his increased workload but also because he recognized it would take you more time to forgive him. Suguru was willing to wait, he knew it’s always lead to him, knew you were coming back.

╰─..★.─────────────────╯

[sazwritesstuff]

Espresso | Part 1

Coffee Shop AU | Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You've been a barista at the same cafe for the past few years. You've gotten to know a far few regulars over those years, some you know by name and others you know only by their order. They make your job just a tiny bit more bearable. So when a new handsome regular begins to show up day after day you can't help but take notice.

Tags/warnings: Coffee Shop AU, barista reader, meet cute, swearing, soft Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool 3)

Posted on AO3 here

No one else liked doing the opening shift but you and Sandy. Everyone else complained about having to get up so early to open at 6.30 in the morning. You, on the other hand, preferred it because it meant you got to leave earlier. There was usually an hour, sometimes two, where there were no customers to deal with. Or only a handful of regulars that you had gotten to know over the past couple of years since you started working at the cafe.

Carrol always had a latte with two slices of brown toast, no butter. With a newspaper or a book. If there were no other customers, she’d happily tell you about her daughter and grandchildren.

Gareth always had a black coffee, in a takeaway cup, sitting with his two dogs near the front door.

Paul, a roofer, came in twice a day for an extra-hot mocha in a takeaway cup that he can sit outside with. Even when it’s raining.

There were a few more that came in throughout the day that you had yet to learn the names of. Most of them you liked but there were a few regulars that got n your tits. Usually because they had one of the most awkward bloody orders that they’d get during rushes and find something to complain about. Despite getting the exact same thing every time.

The regulars that you got during the opening shift tended to be pensioners or part of the “yummy mummy” club. Some faces you recognised more than others. But there were always new faces coming and going, some recognising you when you had no clue who they were.

It was one of those curses of hospitality. That and always being understaffed. Or underpaid. Forced to do way too many hours…

Honestly, it was kind of shit.

But there was a new regular that you had noticed that had started coming in everyday now, getting the same black coffee and just sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. Nothing remarkable about his order. Simple. Easy. You gotten in the habit of getting it ready for him as soon as you saw him in the queue.

He was a man of few words. Polite though. Never rude to you, Sandy or any of your other colleagues. But you had seen him tell a few not so nice customers (usually men, but there were the odd Karen mixed in there) to “go fuck yourself” followed by a few other choice words.

Most people tried to start a fight until they actually turned around and found an over six-foot tall older man with more muscles than most gym rats.

He had become a bit of a favourite of yours.

You’d managed to make him smile a few times and even get a few short laughs out of him.

He was tall, handsome, older than you (but that had never stopped you before), and you so desperately wanted to know his name!

Even if it was just to add fuel to your little fantasies about him. Like running you fingers through his thick brown hair and tugging at the little tufts of hair that remind you of cat ears. Or running your hands up and down those veiny, muscular arms. Or giving his plump rump a smack.

If you could climb that man like a tree, you would die happy.

But you didn’t want to do the classic write your name on his coffee cup with your number, which was practically impossible as he preferred to sit in with a mug, or write it down on a napkin that he’d surely lose.

You’d seen and read enough rom-coms to know that was a terrible idea. Plus, it felt a little cliche.

Simply just asking him for his name and number weren’t an option either.

One, you had never seen him actually using a phone so you had no idea if he even had one. Two, he looked as if he was old enough to be you father (again, not that that had ever stopped you before) and could easily be married or in a serious relationship. Three, your co-workers all already teased you about your preference for older men. Four… he made you nervous. So, so nervous.

He was ruggedly handsome. Tall. Muscular (you wanted to lick those veins you’d seen peeking out under his sleeves).

Today, he’d come in while you’d gone to get some more milk from the walk-in. Sandy had served him his usual, your eyes straying over to where he sat with his coffee by the window.

“I see the crush is still going strong.” Sandy joked as she tamped down the coffee grounds before slotting the portafilter into the machine.

“Shut up! I can’t help it if he’s hot.” Without glancing up you said as you knelt down to put the milk away in the service fridge.

Sandy laughed at your words. “Still haven’t ask for his number then, have you?”

Straightening you sighed, “No. I haven’t and I’m not going to.”

Sandy placed the cappuccino down in front of customer waiting “Here you go! Enjoy!” with a large false smile on her face. Turning back towards you as the customer walked away, she crossed her arms and leant back against the counter. “If he was my type I would totally go for it. But I don’t have daddy issues.”

“No, you just have mommy issues, Sands.”

“Yeah, and if a hot MILF walked in here, I would be all over her like a fly on shit.”

“You’re so gross.”

“So, I’ve been told. But people also tell me that I’m super sexy so it balances itself out.”

Shaking your head smiling at her you said “If you say so.”

“I do and I also say that you should go take to Mr Tall-Dark-and-Brooding and ask him for his number.” She said nodding over to the man in question.

When you glanced over you swore you saw him smirking and trying to hide it behind his coffee.

Fuck me sideways, you thought, he’s so hot! How is that legal!

Rolling your eyes you said the one phrase you knew would annoy Sandy enough to distract her “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.”

“Oh, shut up!” she said throwing a damp cloth at you. Sending you both into giggles.

“But seriously we should both try and look busy, Jodie’s going to be in in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, not Jodie!” Sandy whined “I thought she was only working at the weekend this week.”

“She swapped with Hannah.”

“Noooo!” she whined pouting “That’s it my day’s ruined now. Scratch that, my whole week’s been ruined.”

“I’m not happy about it either but-" you stopped. Noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Turning you were half way through saying “Hi, what can I get you?” before you realised it was the man that you’d been talking about only a moment ago. The smile on your face turning genuine as you felt your cheeks heat.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a deep rumble. Is it normal to get turned on just from someone’s voice?

“Did you want a refill?” you asked, still smiling.

Shaking his head he placed his cup down on the counter. “I just wanted to bring this back and, ugh,” he placed a piece of paper down next to it “give you this. I’m Logan by the way.” He said smiling and winking at you as he turned and walked away.

Leaving you standing there dumbstruck.

Sandy picked up the piece of paper that Logan had put down and squealed. “Oh my god! It’s his phone number! I told you. I fucking told you!”

Snatching the scrap of paper out of her hand you looked down at the numbers he’d scrawled with his name ‘Logan Howlett.’ underneath. Patting your pockets you said “Shit! Where’s my phone? I should text him. Oh my god, what do I next text him. Wait will it seem too desperate if I text him straightaway?”

“No.” Sandy tilted her head in contemplation, “Well, maybe. But if he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have given you his name now, would he?”

“But what if he doesn’t actually like me. What if he just felt he should because he overheard you earlier?”

“Y/n,” Sandy said placing her hands on your shoulders “Hot men don’t just go around handing their number and name out to any random person they come across. Stranger danger and all that. He’s obviously interested and decided to take a chance. Something that you need to do too. Now. Text the hot, sexy old man.”

Taking in a deep breath you nodded. “Okay, okay, yeah.” Pulling out your phone from your apron pocket you tapped Logan’s number into your phone and typed out a text. Trying not to over think it you pressed send.

Y/N: Hey Logan, this is sarah, you gave me your number in the café just now. I was wondering if you want to grab a drink sometime?

Three grey dots appeared. Vanished and quickly appeared again. You chewed on your fingernail as you watched the grey dots on the screen. No less than a minute later a message came through from Logan.

Logan: I’d love too. Are you free tonight?

You glanced up at Sandy “He wants to go out tonight.”

“Well, say yes! Get that DILF dick baby.”

“Sandy!”

“What are you two talking about?” Jodie’s nasally voiced asked as she joined you behind the counter, tying her apron around her waist “It doesn’t very work appropriate.”

“You’re not work appropriate.” Sandy muttered under her breath glaring at the woman.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing Jodie.” Sandy said moving from where she’d been standing next to you. “Can you go clear some tables for us?” she said handing her a tray.

Tuning the two of them out you turned your attention back to your phone.

Taking a deep breath, biting nervously at your thumb, you replied:

SARAH: I’m free tonight How about we meet at Malones at 6?

Logan: I’ll see you there beautiful 😉

You couldn’t wait.

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[dorkicon]

bitching abt my job again

tags contain frank mentions of transphobia and homophobia

[narugen]

need to write more narumina i’ve been converted

[redrobin-detective]

In the "all the Batkids are gender-swapped" version of "Wayne Girls", is Duke included in the swapping? If not, what's his dynamic like with each of the girls (and Carter and Stephen) and if he is, what are the dynamics with "Duchess" and the other Batkids?

Duke wasn't really apart of the batfam when I first made the AU (He was still doing We Are Robin stuff which honestly I kinda miss). I will admit I have been negligent in adding him partially because I still haven't read much of his more recent work and still struggle to conceptualize him as he is much less a complete swap.

Also super embarrassing is I've struggled with finding a name for girl Duke. I want that same short, sharp, commanding energy that Duke provides and a lack of name kind of stops the process. I'm very familiar with baby name websites, not just for Duke but other characters. It took me a long time to settle on Damira for Damian as well. I have Thea (greek for goddess) as my placeholder right now and I like the energy of it but I'm still not entirely settled with it. Other options I've played with are Dela, Cleo, Rhea.

I guess I'll use Thea for now, is often seen as the calm normal one in the setting of the rest of the batfam's shenanigans. She's the only one who had a relatively normal upbringing so she's often seen as the "normal" one but she has her own quirks. She's open, friendly and game for some good back and forth but will not hesitate to put anyone in their place when it gets too far. She engages in feminine things like but not to the extent of Beth but not with the disdain of Janis. She's pretty independent, loves to help others but hesistant to ask for it in return. Honestly tries to avoid a lot of the bigger drama and not get too involved with the Bats. Still sees her placement (both on the team and with the fam) as temporary so treats them all like really weird roommates. The morning bird of the family, she, Alfred and Damira will sip their morning beverages while the rest of the Bats grumble about the sun.

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[killmymind]

about to overthink for a second.

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[simplyholl]

Filthy

Summary: After a long mission, Bucky needs you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

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"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.

You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.

That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.

You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.

Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.

The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.

One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.

He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.

You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."

Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"

Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.

You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.

"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.

Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.

He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.

He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.

You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.

"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.

"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.

His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.

His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.

You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.

He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.

He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.

He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.

His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.

His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.

His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.

He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.

He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.

His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.

You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.

You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.

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