#so if youre one of the people who read it back then you still have some new stuff to read hehehehe 😌🫶🏻💖

[in-class-daydreams]

Note: Gojo & the reader are ~40 in this, Sen is 18, and the guy you're seeing (if you don't already know who it is) is aged up accordingly (~30)

Imagine your and ex-husband Gojo's son Sen finding out you're seeing someone.

"You're going on a date?!" Sen asks in disbelief. "With who?"

You smooth out your outfit and check yourself out in the mirror. This look is one of your best, if you do say so yourself.

"Does it matter?" you ask neutrally. Sen is just mature enough to not blatantly freak out at this revelation, but only just. The less he knows, the better.

"Of course, it matters! I need to know who to hunt down if you disappear!" he replies, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "I need to vet this guy!"

Your ex-husband appears in your bedroom doorway. "Who are we vetting?"

Clenching your prospective clothing in your hands, you grumble, "Doesn't anyone knock any more?"

Satoru leans against the door frame like he's someone's booktok boyfriend (he used to be your booktok husband but that's beside the point). He takes in how you've cleaned up and instantly recognizes your date look. Of course, he's only seen it a million times.

"Oh, the kid didn't know you had boyfriend?" he asks.

"Boyfriend?!" Sen cries. Your temple throbs. "Who is he?"

Satoru shrugs. "I dunno, I just know he exists and his one move is sending flowers because he's basic."

"He's not basic and he is not my boyfriend!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air. "We go on dates, yes. We're seeing each other. 'Boyfriend' implies exclusivity, and none of the people I'm seeing are my boyfriend."

Your son and ex-husband stare at you wide-eyed. As Sen gets older, the black roots of his hair have become his last line of defense against looking like a carbon copy of his dad, and having both a young and old(er) Satoru look at you with their stupid big blue eyes is unsettling. Someone hurry up and blink.

"What?" you ask tiredly.

This time it's Satoru that has something irritating to say. "'People?' As in plural?"

"Satoru, don't start."

Sen raises his hand. "I'm with dad on this one. I don't trust anyone with you, not even dad--"

"Thanks, kid."

"--much less strangers."

Part of you understands that your son and ex-husband are the two people in the world that love you the most. Growing up as isolated as you did, your younger self would never have imagined having the both of them in your life. They're just trying to protect you.

The other part of you is on the verge of telling them both to step the fuck off.

You're all saved by the doorbell ringing and before you can even react, both of them are at the door interrogating whoever's on your porch. But you always met up with your dates instead of them picking you up in case of this exact scenario. There was no way he came to the door without your permission.

Sprinting to the door, you find your son, your ex, and a terrified-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. You shoo the boys away from him and accept the flowers with thanks and a generous tip for dealing with them.

There's a handwritten note attached. It reads:

You didn't think I'd let you walk out the house without a present, right? Pretty girls need pretty flowers.

You can't hold in a grin. He always found ways to go above and beyond even without an official label.

"Well, at least he's a sorcerer," Sen says. He gestures to the note, "There's a teeny bit of residual CE on there. Not enough for me to recognize, though."

You try not to make your sigh of relief obvious. Sen was still in training and Sukuna said his ability to recognize specific cursed energy needed some work. Getting advice from his dad would help, but your son got his stubborn streak from you.

"Well, good. I don't need you tracking him down." Handing the flowers to Sen, you ask, "Put these in a vase for mama, please?"

Sen, ever the obedient son, runs off to do so immediately. You fondly watch him round the corner into the kitchen, then double back to grab you and place a kiss on your cheek.

"I don't like this, but please be safe, mama! Call me any time, I'll be there," he says, then returns to his task.

Once he's out of sight, you slip your shoes on, holding Satoru by the shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"I'll be back before 11. There's pasta in the fridge and I just washed the sheets in the guest room if you want to stay over," you tell him. Pulling up the back of your shoe, you look up at Satoru to find him stock still looking past you. You can't see his eyes, but you can tell they're fixed on the card you received.

That's when you remember that while your son may not yet be at full potential, veteran sorcerer, strongest in history Gojo Satoru knows damn well who sent you those flowers.

Shit.

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[darnell-la]

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 9

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; drinking; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; mentions of therapy/counseling; a jealous and possessive Ghost; violence

Read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

"Slow down," Ava yelled over the loud music, "That's like your second shot and we just got here."

You smirked at her before tossing back the shot. The liquor burned your throat a little, but you didn't care. As you placed the glass down on the bar top, you tried ordering another before Ava stopped you.

"Why not," you pouted a little before giggling.

"Y/n... what's going on?" she asked in concern.

You slightly groaned, "Can't a girl have fun out at the club with her best friend?"

"I mean yes but-"

"But what?" the grin still on your lips as you ordered another shot - this time for both of you. When the bartender slid them to you, you raised your glass up, "Cheers!" you shouted, as you didn't even wait for Ava to clink her glass with yours before you threw your head back, gulping the liquor down your throat. You looked around the club, seeing people dance to the music.

This wasn't like you. Of course, you drank, and of course, Ava had seen you drunk before. But something was off.... way off. You'd barely said anything about why you wanted to go out when she picked you up. And you only talked about the dress you had on and how sexy you looked.

"Simon come back today?" she asked, eyeing you with a knowing look; looking for a reaction out of you.

And a reaction you gave. Your body tensed while the smile that was plastered over your face dropped immediately. You glanced at her and almost scoffed, "Yeah."

"And?" she pushed for an answer.

One you weren't wanting to give.

You sighed, "And nothing... Look I don't wanna talk about him right now alright? I just drink and shake my ass," you laughed at your own sentence, "Now will you take a shot with me?"

She wanted to protest. She should have convinced you to leave the place. But she also knew exactly what you were going through. The moments where you said fuck it to everything; the progress you had made with Simon. Something set you off... but she wasn't going to make it worse. So she did what any best friend would do.... she ordered a shot for both of you.

She would get you to tell her eventually anyway. For now... she'd help you have your fun.

"Can I get a whiskey? No ice," a deep voice, that was next to you, yelled at the bartender, "And.. whatever the pretty lady's having."

You glanced up, meeting the blue eyes of the man who had ordered his drink, only to find him smiling down at you.

Oh.

He meant you.

The immediate blush that formed on your face as you looked down at the empty glass in your hand only made his grin wider. He leaned down closer to you, lips halfway to your ear, "What's your name beautiful?" he asked before straightening up and waiting for you to respond.

Ava couldn't help her eyes from widening and the giggle that escaped from her as she stood next to you. You quickly glanced at her, shooting her a look - stop laughing.

"Y/n." You smiled., half blushing... half internally freaking out.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said before the bartender handed his drink to him while sliding another shot of tequila to you. "I'm Keegan." He introduced himself while holding out his hand for you to shake.

God, was he flirting hard. But you shook it anyway, hating how red your face was. You hoped he hadn't noticed it since it was dark in the club. The only light being from the DJ and strobe lights that flickered over the huge room. But you were pretty sure he saw as you couldn't help but observe how his blue eyes seemed to shine even in the darkness of the club.

************************************************************************

Simon and Johnny arrived back at your apartment, with Simon all but busting through the front door as soon as he unlocked it. Johnny tried multiple times to calm him down... At least get him to slow down when driving back there, but the man hadn't heard anything he said. All he wanted was to get back home to you. But you were gone.

What was he expecting? That you were joking? That you were tricking him into coming back home? No. He wasn't stupid. He knew you meant what you said. And that alone made his hands tremble a bit.

"Simon," Johnny grabbed his shoulder to face him. The sergeant rarely used his friend's real name; always accustomed to calling him by his callsign. But this time was different. This time he needed to really get through to him.

There was a long and silent pause as Johnny looked at Simon. The desperate and regretful look in his eyes. The water that gathered around the white part of them as he fought back the tears that threatened to fall. He was scared. Fuck he was so scared. Of what though? He didn't want to think about it. It wasn't that he didn't trust you. God, he trusted you with his entire life, and only he fucked that up because of his stupid actions.

What he didn't trust.. was other men. You'd had been drinking some wine when he got home. He remembered seeing the glass in your hand and the half-empty bottle on the counter. He didn't want to think about you being out and so vulnerable to someone taking advantage of you.

"Y'need to calm down. She's gonna come back home."

"I need to go find her," Simon said as he stepped back and made his way to the front door.

"What? L.T. ya can't do that!" he yelled, trying to rationalize with his friend. "She's gonna kill ya."

Simon repsonded immediately "I'll let her then."

"Y're not thinkin right mate."

A loud groan left his mouth, muffled by the mask he still had on, "I just wanna go get m'wife Johnny.

This was a bad idea; a terrible idea. But the sergeant couldn't help but feel bad for the damn man. He barely focused on the mission while they were gone, Price barking out orders several times because he wasn't listening. He hardly slept.... and now he was about to go out and look for you.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny said before agreeing, "If she does kill ya, can I have ya motorcycle at least?"

He couldn't help it. He was a comedian.. even if it wasn't funny.

But Simon couldn't help but smirk, "I'll give you the chest candy,"

************************************************************************

You were definitely going to regret drinking when you woke up the next morning. But as the night continued on, you didn't want to think about that. You and Ava were either on the dance floor when one of your favorite songs played over the speakers, or you'd be at the bar, talking to Keegan. Ava couldn't help the teasing comments she said under her breath when he said something that made you blush. Even when you went to the restroom to touch up your makeup, she teased you.

"He's been staring at you all night," she giggled.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "I don't care. It's not like I'm going home with him." She hummed in agreement.

Yes, Keegan was very attractive (really fucking attractive), and he was flirting a lot with you. His eyes trailing up and down your body ever so often, always pausing at your thigh where the split in your dress was or the low cut in the front that exposed your chest.

Really you damn near had on nothing - the dress showing very little left to the imagination, especially with the guy. And you could tell he wanted to see more.

When the two of you made your way back to the dance floor, you thought nothing more about Keegan. Your hips swayed to the beat, singing the lyrics to the song. You giggled when you saw Ava decline some random dude who wanted to dance. You were so caught up in the beat you almost didn't feel a pair of hands graze your hips as a warm body strolled up behind you. You looked back, seeing those blue eyes of Keegan.

"You know, I've been watching you dance all night beautiful," he said, lips so close to your ear, your pulse quickened. But with the liquor clouding your mind a bit, you just blushed.

"Oh yeah?" you turned your head to look at him."

"Mhmm," he leaned even closer, lips brushing your ear, "Makes me want to worship you."

"Worship me?" you asked in pure curiosity, making him hum again, "How would you do that?"

He was waiting for you to ask that. He had been waiting all goddamn night for you to say something - say anything - for him to show you what he meant. He wrapped his right arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you felt the slight bulge in his jeans before he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and then dipped his head to kiss your neck.

It felt wrong. It felt all wrong. Before you even pulled away to deny his offer, a fist flew through the air, hitting him in the face. His arm gave way from your waist as he stumbled back. You turned around, eyes wide, as gasps were heard from the crowd around you, and you glanced to see who had punched him.

Simon.

Everything happened so fast. Keegan - not even realizing why he was just punched - swung back on Simon, hitting him in the jaw. All hell broke loose, and a full-on fight spiraled between them as other men from the crowd tried to break it up. Johnny yelled Simon's name as he tried pulling him off of Keegan. It was a futile attempt to get him to back off, but it was your scream that got him to stop, his eyes locking directly on yours.

In the midst of it all, you had tried fighting your way in the middle to stop both of them but only got pushed into the arms of Ava, who pulled you back so you wouldn't get hurt. Security had forced their way through the crowd, finally making Keegan leave first. You felt awful as he glanced at you in disgust before rolling his eyes and leaving out of the club.

Simon walked up to you not even two seconds later, his hand wrapping around your arm and pulling you out of the club with Johnny and Ava right on your tail. The moment the four of you were outside, you tried to pull away, but it only made his grip tighter.

God, he was mad. He was so mad... but so were you. Something mystifying and intense stirred in your stomach as you looked at Simon. He hadn't said a fucking word. Even when Johnny said he was going to go home, even when Ava said she'd call you tomorrow before she got in her car and left. All he did was open the passenger door, letting you get in the car before walking around the other side and getting in the driver's seat.

Something was brewing between the both of you, and the entire ride home was fueling the fire that was underneath.

Okay.... I hate that I put our Keegan in this only to get into a fight with Simon. Don't hate me okay!!! :( I needed someone to make him lose his mind lol! (I honestly might change this part at a later time... idk yet) What do we think? Give me all the feedback! I love when you all comment and be mad with me.... we are all frustrated and mad at Simon together!

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde

[amoscontorta]

Wine time with Sylus | ao3 | other stories in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person pov, no use of y/n

This story contains: fluff, banter, angst, mc with obvious self esteem issues, grief, self-destructive behavior, profanity, alcohol use, criminal activity, allusions to violence, sleepy kissing, biting, inappropriate thoughts regarding kitchen tools, the mental gymnastics mc engages in to avoid acknowledging or recognizing feelings on either side should come with their own warning to be honest, one very thirsty mc whose thoughts are NSFW. This part ends with a misunderstanding that you can bet Sylus will not put up with for long.

In the days following Sylus’s latest little… visit, you’re called out more frequently than usual to counter wanderer attacks. You’re barely home, and the few times you stumble home late into the night, you peel your sweat and sometimes blood-stained hunter’s uniform off right in the entryway, promise yourself you’ll do laundry soon, and drag your aching body to the shower. Then you usually spend what little night you have left lying there with your eyes closed, carefully keeping your mind blank as sleep remains elusive. You have to admit to yourself that the few times Sylus kept you company overnight, you slept like the dead, but you refuse to go so far as admitting that you wouldn’t mind if it were more frequent. If you were to admit it to yourself, which you will not,  you only yearn for it strictly for the sake of your sleep schedule, and absolutely not because you’ve come to crave his warm, comforting bulk against your body.

Tonight is no different, but you’re both looking forward to and dreading the next few days, as Captain Jenna has ordered you to take some time off to rest and recover from the brutal schedule you’ve been keeping for months now, capped off by the recent spate of increased attacks. All of your wheedling to let you keep going, that you’re fine, that the people of Linkon need you, that you need the constant distraction, has proven useless. Apparently the frequency with which you are getting injured remains acceptable, but she is finally at the end of her patience reading your barely coherent, misspelled reports with unfinished sentences that you only manage to submit before Association mandated deadlines by the skin of your teeth.

“Go home, get your head on straight, and come back rested … and literate again, please.” She looks back down at the tablet on her desk, trying to dismiss you, but you stubbornly remain at attention at her desk.

“That’s discrimination, Captain. I can be a perfectly functional hunter without being able to read or write,” you protest, while Xavier winces behind you. “I mean, obviously I can read and write, I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Still able to destroy wanderers!”

Jenna’s already formidable expression begins to darken, but you’re not cowed. You open your mouth to helpfully point out that wanderers don’t care about how well you can spell, when you feel Xavier’s gentle hand on your arm. “Come on, why don’t we go together to get some snacks on the way home? I think they’ve started re-issuing that wasabi flavored chocolate bar we tried at the beginning of the year,” he says softly, and Jenna shoots him an appreciative look before proceeding to ignore you both.

You glumly follow Xavier out into the early evening. Rush hour is over, but the sidewalks are still bustling with life. You weave through the mass of humanity, resisting the urge to drop-kick anyone who cuts you off or brushes against you accidentally. I am a role model for the Hunter’s Association, even when I’m off the clock, I am not allowed to arrest someone for bumping into me…. I am not allowed to arrest someone for…

Xavier tries to distract you from your obvious frustration by describing the plot of the latest manga series he’s reading that he thinks you’ll like as you two make your way  home. You listen absently, feeling slightly calmed by his soothing voice, despite its graphic descriptions of violence in the manga that you are pretty sure you’re going to really like.

“Are there any hot guys in it?” you ask as the mass of people begins to thin the closer you get to your building.

“Hot… guys?” he blinks in confusion, his impossibly blue eyes flashing in the streetlamps that have just turned on.

“Yeah. Like that other one we read, Help, I, a lowly office worker, went to sleep and woke up as the Queen’s assassin in the book I fell asleep reading. The main guy in that was super hot.”

“Well, it is by the same mangaka, so you’d probably like the way they draw the main character in this one too,” he says uncertainly, but with a strange expression on his face, like he suddenly doesn’t want you to read it with him anymore.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try. Have you finished the first volume yet? Can I borrow it?”

You’ve reached your building, the trees surrounding the courtyard rustling in the soft end-of-summer breeze.

“…Great,” he says after a brief hesitation. He holds open one of the entrance's doors for you to enter the your building’s foyer. Your boots and his echo on the polished floor as you make your way into the lift. “I’ll be finished by tomorrow. How about we go the bookstore and afterwards you can come over and read since we have the day off? You can start volume one, and I’ll start volume 2. Does that sound good? We can make fancy ramen,” he says, his normally sleepy energy spiking with the idea of adding a boiled egg and some frozen vegetables to the normally plain ramen the two of you consume more often than not while on the go. Xavier’s idea of fancy has always been adorable to you.

The idea of not just sitting in your apartment alone on the first day of your forced leave is a welcome one, and you agree that he can come find you when he’s woken up, so that you don’t risk waking him up. He likes this plan, because obviously, you’re hardly sleeping at all, and he sleeps longer than you ever would have imagined possible for humans until you met him. As the elevator approaches your floor and the doors slide open, you’re about to step out when Xavier’s soft voice behind you has you turning to look back at his pretty face.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, eyes searching yours. “I know you feel like you’ve lost everything right now, and that the pain seems unbearable.”

You quickly turn your head—you were not expecting this sneak attack of sympathy and kindness from him. You nod jerkily, trying not to let his warmth sink into you, or else you might start crying.

“It sounds cliché, but with time, even this pain will fade. And you have so much time ahead of you. I can promise you that. One day you’ll wake up, and it will be slightly less unbearable. That doesn’t mean you forget about what you’ve lost. But you can think of it without… without feeling like you’re destroyed again, every time.” He’s looking at you, but you also have the feeling that he’s looking at something else, from a great distance. Knowing how secretive he is, it’s unlikely you’ll ever know what it is he’s seeing.

You nod again, and whatever he sees in you profile seems to satisfy him as he offers you a soft ‘Goodnight,’ and you scurry from the lift to your front door. You tuck away his words, and push them down deep. You know they’re well intended. But you can’t handle crying right now. Not yet. Not yet. So you focus on possible plans for the days stretching ahead of you.

There is a part of you that’s looking forward to possibly being able to rest, it’s true. But the stretch of empty days, without work and battle and the social interaction of colleagues, had been filling you with anxiety before your plans with Xavier were made. But even after tomorrow, you’ll try to make the best of it. You can… try to remember what hobbies you had, before your life blew up. Maybe you can take up a new hobby! Within the span of a few days. Yeah, you can teach yourself to crochet,or make stained glass art, in a day, right? Online videos are super helpful. Maybe you’ll even deep clean your apartment, and go grocery shopping, properly, for the first time in weeks. You’ll buy vegetables that have to be prepped instead of the hottest insta-ramen you can find and slurping packets of applesauce while telling yourself that it counts as fiber, right? You can cook, and bake! You just haven’t in… a really long time. Maybe you’ll bake an entire cake, and then eat the entire cake. Yeah. You have plans, you think to yourself, pressing your fingerprint to the scanner under your flat’s door handle and pushing the door open when it beeps.

As soon as the door closes with a soft whump, you carefully hang up your blades and pistol holsters on your wall-mounted weapon rack, and then you’re furiously undoing the laces on your knee high leather boots, hopping from one foot to the other as you try to kick them off without actually having to sit down and pull them off. You yank off your socks, then shimmy out of your pants, which you also kick off unceremoniously. You’re going to be positive about this little holiday! You’re so close to being comfortable and staying that way for days. You almost rip your buttons in your haste to remove your shirt, and just as you’ve gotten the last one undone, you finally notice the dark, looming figure in the shadows at the end of your foyer.

You’re in your fucking underpants, barefoot, and your weapons are out of reach due to your current strangulation by your own shirt sleeves.

Heart racing, you throw yourself backward against the door, prepared to make a strategic retreat and escape into the building’s hallway to buy yourself some time to free yourself from your shirt, no matter the cost to your pride at being caught out in your underwear, when familiar scarlet-ink tendrils of energy gently wrap themselves around your waist and softly lift you in the air. You find yourself kicking and squirming like a kitten picked up by the scruff of its neck.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you choke out.

“Why are you still struggling, when you can clearly see that it’s me? Cease, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Why are you using your evol on me without my consent?” you retort, wriggling some more for good measure simply because he told you to stop.

“To prevent you from giving your neighbors the show of their lives without even charging admission,” he responds languidly, eyes the color of sunlight filtering through a glass of wine drifting from your probably red, sweaty face down your barely clothed body.

“Oh, they don’t get a free show, but you do?” you sneer, continuing to struggle to no effect.

“Look at yourself,” Sylus commands, and turns his head as if bored. You note absently that he’s wearing a ruby stud earring in his ear... the one that matches the earring in your own ear. So you never bothered to take it out. That doesn’t mean anything—you’re just lazy. You refuse to think about it anymore deeply than that, and then notice that Sylus not only looks bored, but also looks almost… offended? You do as he asks, and see that his evol is wrapping itself around your body in such a way that its bright-dark tendrils are covering all of your exposed, sensitive areas like a fluid robe.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“Oh, indeed.” He continues to look away from you, aggressively bored, but his evol gently lowers you enough so that your bare feet rest on the ground, and then it loosens, but remains swirling around you.

“Then I’ll… just go get dressed.” You begin making your past him, but stop when you see him nonchalantly hold up a large, elegant shopping bag. It’s black, with some brand name you don’t recognize written in flowy silver script. “What is this?” You look from the bag to his face. He deigns to look at you again. Your eyes drift to his other ear, and you see that where it is pierced is empty.

“Wardrobe options,” is all he says, jerking you out of trying to puzzle out this opaque maniac’s intentions. You take the bag from him and quickly walk to your bathroom. No way you’re going to put on new clothes while feeling filthy from a long day and night of annihilating wanderers. His evol dissipates the moment your bathroom door shuts behind you.

It’s becoming a pattern. Thinking the worst of him, only to be proven wrong. But you don’t know how to overcome the cognitive dissonance of Sylus from your first meeting, and this Sylus who seems intent on taking care of you better than you take care of yourself.

You rinse off as quickly as you can in the shower, towel yourself dry, and take a peek in the bag that he gave you. The first thing you see is a black…? You lift it out of the bag, and it unfolds into a very large sweater. It’s thick, the fabric obviously of high quality. You touch it gently, running your hands along a sleeve—is it cashmere? It’s unbelievably soft. It’s probably a nightmare to wash. On impulse, you lift it to your nose, and take a deep breath.

Your suspicion is confirmed. It smells like him. This isn’t a brand new piece of clothing. This is one of Sylus’s own sweaters that he has worn before. The scent of his clean skin, the sharp tang of gunmetal, the bright burst of citrus, probably from some ridiculously expensive shampoo or body wash. The mix sends a thrill through your entire body: after only a few encounters, you already have bone-deep associations with the way Sylus smells. Fear and adrenaline, yes, but also anticipation—and bizarrely, safety. Instead of feeling terrified, you feel the way you would before riding a roller coaster. Yes, you’ll be screaming and holding on for dear life the whole ride, but you are also inexplicably convinced that in the end, you’ll have your feet firmly planted on the ground, safe again. A part of you whispers that it’s safer to avoid the roller coaster altogether—bolts come loose, wheels pull free from the track, tragic accidents happen all the time. But standing here in your humid bathroom, bone-weary from the day behind you, sniffing Sylus’s unwashed sweater makes you feel more alive than you’ve felt in a very long time.

You pull his sweater over your head, and you’re basically swimming it, it’s so big. The collar is big enough that it threatens to fall off one shoulder. But it’s so soft. And cozy. You hug yourself, and peek into the bag again. There are a few more sweaters, each dark with varying degrees of dramatic flair. This is part of Sylus’s wardrobe, after all. But there are also little sleep shorts, like the ones you were wearing the last time he invaded your home. You pick up a pair—no way would they fit on his big ass. You try, so, so, so very hard not to picture his thick cake stuffed into these tiny shorts.

You fail.

Your brain short circuits for a few seconds.

When it comes back online, you lift out a pair, and the fabric glides silkily along your skin. You’re pretty sure these are silk. They’re black, because of course, but they also have little red … happy pomegranates? Dotted along the hems. They’re adorable. You pull them on over your own bare ass and the sweater-shorts combo is probably the softest thing you’ve ever had on your body. The sweater swallows the shorts and makes it look like you’re wandering around without bottoms on.

You look at yourself in the mirror, silently telling yourself that you shouldn’t get on this particular ride. You don’t know where the track leads, and it scares you. What if it ends over a cliff, and the last thing you ever see is Sylus’s triumphant, cruel face looking down at you as you fall? There are other, less risky rides, certainly ones without wanted posters, right? Right? On second thought, you don’t even have to go the amusement park at all. You’re just fine with trying to get some fucking sleep, with continuing to hone your combat skills, with just trying to be a good person despite really liking knives and being an enthusiastic hunter.

But maybe you can just. Be friends with the roller coaster? Like, you don’t have to ride him. IT. THE ROLLER COASTER. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO RIDE THE ROLLER COASTER. You can just, watch it from a safe distance. You might indulge in little fantasies about what it’s like to ride… the roller coaster. And honestly, fantasies are almost always a hell of a lot better than the reality ever turns out to be. Not to mention! Sylus has never directly expressed any desire to ride … your roller coaster. Sure, he shows up unannounced and cares for you in ways that no one ever has, and he touches you a lot for someone who has no physical interest in you, but physical isn’t necessarily sexual, right? Maybe it’s an evol thing, and the way he touches you has to do with why you both find yourself inexplicably connected for periods of time. Like charging a battery. The point is! There will be no tickets to either ride, thank you, you aren’t open for business and he definitely does not have the proper safety inspection certificates in order, so. No.

You nod firmly to yourself in the mirror. This should be fine. You can be friends with Sylus. You don’t have to let him drag you over a cliff. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from him—he seems to be pretty competent at a lot of things that might be useful for certain aspects of your job. Like intimidating people. And exploding people with a thought and twitch of his fingers. And convincing them to do things they don’t want to do by sheer force of obnoxiousness.

Having sufficiently deluded yourself into believing that your plan of action has a chance of success, you slip out of the bathroom and find Sylus in the kitchen, next to a pretty wine glass that you certainly do not recall owning on the kitchen island.

He’s slicing strawberries with a very sharp knife that you do recall owning, because you do spend quite a lot of time sharpening the set it belongs to. They’re not kitchen knives, per se; you actually have them for work and they are really nice to throw. You already had so many knives before you moved into this place that you didn’t see the necessity of spending more money on probably inferior kitchen knives. But the large, really nice butcher block-style cutting board that he’s chopping the fruit on is not yours. And neither are the delicately arranged variety of cheeses, thinly sliced meat, and savory tarts set in puff pastry that fill up most of the cutting board. And lastly, you do not recall purchasing two bottles of what look like red wine sitting next to the wine glass, nor cleaning your kitchen so thoroughly that Zayne could probably perform surgery in here without worrying about risk of infection.

Despite your presence standing at the island before him now, he continues to serenely slice the ever-growing pile of fruit.

“Sylus?”

“Have a seat,” he says, not looking up.

“Oh, why thank you for offering such hospitality to me, in my own home,” you mutter, pulling out one of the wooden bar stools at the kitchen island. You’re about to sit down when you realize that the repetitive chop of the knife has stopped, and you look up to find Sylus frozen with the knife mid-slice in a fat strawberry. His eyes drift from your neck and exposed shoulder, down the soft expanse of sweater, to your bare legs, and then back again. You’re suddenly self-conscious—he’s the one who gave you these clothes. And now he’s staring at you like a wanderer is about to burst out of your chest.

“Did I misunderstand the assignment or something?” you ask, plopping down on the bar stool in the hopes of breaking him out of whatever weird trance he’s apparently glitching in. He swallows, flicks a final look at your shoulder, and then goes back to slicing.

“I’m simply shocked that you actually did as you were told, for once,” he responds, seemingly unruffled again. “You should also put one of the sweaters in your go bag as a backup in the event that your uniform gets destroyed, again, which it does at an alarming rate these days. The Association’s overheads for keeping you clothed must be in the stratosphere.”

“Mm, yes I’m sure you’re very concerned about the costs of doing business for the Association.” You rest your head in your hand, propped up by your elbow on the counter. The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, with only the snick of the knife filling the space between you. The lights underneath your cabinets are on, emitting a soft warm glow from below, but you notice that he hasn’t put on the harsher, brighter overhead lights. The city’s skyline blinks serenely like an endless fleet of starships in the dark expanse of space through your windows, and a cool breeze wafts in from time to time.

Finally, Sylus is done, and he carefully rinses the knife in the sink and sets it on the counter. He turns back to you.

“No interrogation regarding why I’m here this time?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a light sweater in a deep grey, of a style quite similar to the one you’re now wearing. He looks domestic, and delicious, and you tell yourself sternly that he is friend shaped, you will not ride the Sylus roller coaster, you will not ride the Sylus roller coaster—

You have to say something. “Oh, are you missing my very effective questioning techniques? Sadly, I left my handcuffs at the office,” you lift your shoulders in a what can you do? gesture, and his eyes follow your bare shoulder again.

“Handcuffs aren’t the only means of restraint available to a truly resourceful hunter,” he says, shaking his head as if disappointed.  “Your lack of imagination is boring.”

“Okay, Sylus. But only because you’re basically begging for it: why are you here?”  You lift a puff pastry and brandish it at him like a knife. “Answer honestly, or you’ll really get it this time!” You take a big, aggressive bite as if to illustrate what he’s got coming to him in case of his non-compliance, and then moan because what the fuck, this is so good, is it goat cheese and honey? And suddenly you’re devouring it, licking your fingers clean when you’re done because you can’t get enough.

“This definitely counts as an enhanced interrogation technique.” His voice is low, and has a rough quality to it that normally isn’t there. You glance up from slobbering all over your fingers and find that he’s staring at you in what is probably disgust.

“Ha, yes, and I’ll keep subjecting you to it until you tell me what you’re doing in my home, again. And how did you even get in? I never got you a key.” You finish licking yourself like an animal and reach for a strawberry. If he’s going to play chef in your kitchen, who are you to refuse to enjoy the literal fruits of his labor? You just live here and pay the damn rent.

He holds up the index finger of his right hand, which is sporting a band-aid that you recognize as one of the same kind you have in your first-aid kit. They’re super cute, with a design of sad little cartoon mushrooms. “I was at my accountant’s, which happens to be in this neighborhood, and I got a paper cut while signing some documents.”

You pause before biting into the berry. “You… came to my flat. With extra clothing, wine, wine glasses, and various appetizers, in order to get a band-aid for your paper cut. Is this a correct summary of events?” You decide you’re not going to wait for him to answer, and take a big bite of the strawberry, feeling some juice drip down your chin. You catch it with your index finger, and then suck the juice off after you’re done chewing.

There is a long pause, and you look up to find him staring intently at your finger. You widen your eyes and wave your hand in the universal gesture of hurry the fuck up, get on with it already? He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. Apparently you’re so horrifying to witness eating that he needs to seek some zen before he can answer. It’s not your fault that he brought you half of his wardrobe and wine glasses but didn’t think to bring any napkins. “Yes, that is a correct summary of events,” is all he offers.

You look at him.

He looks back at you, occasionally flicking his gaze down to your mouth and back to your eyes. You consider baring your teeth at him just in case he wants an eyeful of the strawberry undoubtedly stuck in them, but refrain because you’re polite.

“Okay. Do you care to explain the motivation behind these events?” you ask slowly, thinking that maybe you will brandish a real knife at him to hurry up this so-called interrogation so you can straight up devour the rest of this charcuterie board that this wanted criminal has inexplicably prepared in your kitchen.

Fortunately, you don’t have to go for the knife, because he begins to speak. “There was a wine merchant that looked rather appealing on the way to your place. Since you revealed a deplorable lack of discernment when it comes to selecting a good bottle of wine the last time you hosted me, I thought I’d do my civic duty for the week and educate the less fortunate on how to choose, and enjoy, a decent bottle of wine.”

“I see.” You nod slowly. “That’s very civic-minded of you. You’re truly a model citizen. And the food?”

“It’s not wise to have a wine tasting without something to eat. Otherwise, you might find yourself making questionable decisions. We wouldn’t want that, would we, sweetie?” he seems to have recovered from his nausea at watching you wolf down food, because he says this with a playful lift of a silver eyebrow.

“Because letting a man whose baggage includes a wanted poster into my home whenever he wants could hardly be considered a good decision, and I made that one while sober,” you sigh. “I see your point.”

“Exactly. Just imagine what kind of trouble you could get into after a bottle of wine on an empty stomach?” He tilts his head to the side, and runs a middle finger slowly over his brow.

You shudder, because his big hands. You can’t pursue this line of thought.

“And the clothes?”

“Now you won’t need to borrow your partner’s clothes in case of an emergency. And I’ll have something to wear at my safe house in case you decide to assault me with beverages again.”

“That was one time. And if you don’t show up, then there’s no chance you’ll be assaulted. Therefore, no need for a change of clothes. And, pardon me, but your safe house? I think you meant, my flat. But what you’re telling me is that the whole reason you were coming to my flat in the first place was to put a band-aid on your boo-boo.”

He lowers his hand and begins running his thumb along his lower lip. “Even a small cut can turn life-threatening if not treated properly. And I wouldn’t want a scar, now would I? It’s not much of a safe house if I can’t make use of it when in danger of lasting bodily harm.”

“Mmm yes, what with your evol that renders scarring impossible for you, we wouldn’t want your paper cut to cause you lasting bodily harm. And you couldn’t acquire a band-aid at a pharmacy, perhaps like at the one next to the wine merchant I’m pretty sure you’re referring to?” You refuse to look at his big thumb pressing into his thick, soft-looking lower lip. You stare up at the ceiling, and consider cataloguing wanderers in your head to stem the sudden urge to vault over the island counter separating him from you and pulling that damn thumb into your own mouth.

“They didn’t have a box containing such cute little designs. I never knew I wanted anthropomorphized fungus to decorate a bandage intended to protect an open wound until I saw your own box.”

It takes you a second to remember what the hell the two of your were discussing when you realize he’s talking about your adorable little mushroom band-aids.

“A wine snob, and a band-aid snob.”

“I prefer the term cultured, but yes, I’ve told you before. Life is too short to waste on the inferior. Your sad little champignons surpass all others.”

He’s done it again. He has hardly even moved this entire time, and has managed to exhaust you to the point of blissful indifference. He shows up unannounced, rifles through your first aid kit, decides what you’re going to wear both this evening and in the future when you need a spare change of clothes, and has prepared an hors d’oeuvre spread worthy of at least a mid-ranged restaurant for you to eat while offering you a wine tasting? Fine. “Okay,” you say, reaching for another one of those puff pastries.

He watches you steadily for a few moments, as if trying to sense a trap. “That’s it?”

You shrug. “Sure. I told you that you could use my house if you needed it. I’ve just learned my lesson: next time I’ll be very careful in drafting the conditions of any deal we make, since your interpretation of certain terms appears to vary wildly from any reasonable person’s.”

“I think I’m quite reasonable,” he examines his nails. “I come bearing gifts, and this is how you show your gratitude? By insinuating that I'm unreasonable?”

Another thought occurs to you. “How did you even get in, Sylus?”

“Ah,” he says, squinting and looking out the window, as if contemplating a very deep philosophical question. “While you were sleeping last time… I took the liberty of adding my fingerprint to your door’s fingerprint scanner.”

What. The. Fuck. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Again, it’s not much of a safe house if I can’t access it without your presence. I didn’t think you’d mind. It’s not like I can’t just use my evol to teleport into your place anyway, but I thought you’d appreciate me coming through the front door. Fewer feathers. You didn’t seem to like cleaning those up the last time I teleported out of your place.”

You just stare at him. How would he even know that you cursed him, loudly, as you were mopping up the mess of blood and feathers he generously left in your entryway after being shot? And then it comes to you. Mephisto. Of course. You pinch the bridge of your nose, and visualize violently shaking that bird until his circuits are rewired.

Sylus continues, ignoring your mounting rage. “Come to think of it, we should probably upgrade your locks, kitten. It was laughably easy to override the system and add my print as authorized for entry.”

Forget riding the Sylus coaster—you think that maybe he isn’t even friend shaped after all. He might just have slid right back to enemy shaped. Frenemy shaped? Where does a frenemy lie on the spectrum of “fuck his brains out” to “polite, but distant acquaintances?” But then you remember that it’s not a linear spectrum, and fucking his brains out is not mutually exclusively to being mortal enemies. You’ve read enough enemies-to-lovers romances to know that perfectly well, so even if he is enemy shaped… you shudder. Why are you like this? You redirect your self-disgust and deflect, like a true emotionally well-adjusted adult:

“Why can’t you be normal? Like, do you do anything like a normal person?”

“Why would I pretend to be normal when I’m so obviously extraordinary?” he scoffs, looking at you like you’re the unhinged one in this little situationship.

 “Sylus.”

“Yes, my heart’s delight?”

You stare at him, and he gazes back at you, leaning leisurely back against your counter, arms folded and long fingers slowly tapping out a rhythm on one bulky bicep. You know that if you remove his authorization on your locks that he will just teleport himself right into your place, and you’ll be endlessly cleaning up feathers. And you also really don’t want your neighbors to wonder who the hell the creep is loitering around your door at all hours of the night and then start asking questions if he actually honors your request not to simply appear in your place on a whim. You did previously offer him a key. Which he declined. Apparently because he was already planning this. You run your hand along the back of your neck in an effort to relieve some tension. “You can’t just let yourself into my place anytime you want. There need to be rules.”

“Fair enough. Provided that they’re not moronic, I can follow your rules.”

“And who decides whether they’re moronic or not?” you ask, knowing the answer.

He just smiles at you, radiating satisfaction.

“Okay. Rule number one—” you begin, only to be interrupted as he lifts a finger.

“I’ll follow your rules, if you promise to taste the wine I brought with me tonight.”

Even though you had already resigned yourself to whatever he had in store for you tonight, you can’t help arguing at this little added condition. “No, the deal is, you can use my flat, with your fingerprint, when you need it, if you follow the rules,” you huff.

He starts shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, kitten. You should have set rules at the beginning of our deal. You can’t just impose new conditions halfway through. A deal’s a deal. I suggest keeping that in mind the next time you have to deal with anyone else less… generous, than myself,” he intones, as if you’re a somewhat lacking student in need of instruction.

“So you’ll follow the rules if I promise to… taste wine tonight?” you ask, hoping that you can catch him out on a technicality and beat him at his own game. He considers for a moment, but must see something in your expression, because his eyes narrow and his smile widens to reveal his sharp canines.

“I’ll follow your reasonable, and not moronic, rules if you promise to taste the wine I brought tonight, with me,” he says.

You need to work on your poker face. You need to get Sylus to teach you how to improve it. Ugh.

“Fine.” If this means more food can happen soon, and honestly, yeah, a glass of wine, you’ll accept anything at this point.

He straightens from the counter and claps his hands once, looking more eager than you think you’ve ever seen him. “Excellent, let’s begin.”

“You didn’t even wait to hear what the rules are,” you protest, watching him fish out a wine corkscrew from his trouser pocket. It looks heavy, with a handsome wooden handle, and the stainless steel flashes under the soft lights.

“Send them in a text, I’ll redline them and return them to you, you can counter, and so on and so forth until we have an agreement. Like any proper contract negotiation. For now, it’s wine time.”

And with that, he sets to work opening the wine, humming a little tune so off-key that you have no idea what melody it’s supposed to be. It occurs to you that you’ve never used a corkscrew as a weapon, but as Sylus uses the small blade to slice through the foil covering the neck of the bottle, and then unfolds the lethal-looking twisted screw and begins expertly driving it into the cork, you realize that it could come in really handy in a fight. And there’s something else that’s really appealing to you—the combination of the contained savagery of the corkscrew, the assured movements of Sylus’s hands, the penetration of the cork—you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the sweater you’re wearing.

“See something you like, kitten?” Sylus’s smoky voice drifts into your thoughts, and you look up, realizing you’ve been unabashedly staring at his beautiful hands, again, and the corkscrew, with undivided focus for the past few moments, and he has noticed.

You clear your throat, and then gesture weakly at the corkscrew. “That’s uh, a very nice looking wine opener.” You nod to emphasize your very normal approval of this very normal household item, because you are not thinking any thoughts about Sylus’s huge hands or screwing or penetration. None.

“Good eye. I’m rather fond of this model. I’ll have one delivered to you,” he says as he firmly pulls the cork from the bottle with a soft pop. He sets it on the counter, and picks up the other bottle.

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it didn’t escape your notice that the kind of wine I drink tends to come with a screw cap instead of a cork,” you decline, shaking your head. You can buy your own damn self a corkscrew for tucking into your pocket if you ever find yourself at a wine bar that doesn’t allow patrons to be armed, but you anticipate needing some kind of weapon.

“Refuse me all you want,” he murmurs, and you feel like there’s an implied part of that sentence that he’s just not saying out loud. But then he’s repeating the opening process with the second bottle, and you suddenly find the night view outside your window immensely fascinating, because whatever is continuing to happen in front of you is just. Boring. Utterly sleep-inducing. You can’t look or else you might just pass out from the tedium of it before you even get to taste the wine. And a deal’s a deal, as Sylus is fond of repeating ad nauseum.

After hearing the soft pop of the other bottle, you sigh and turn back to find Sylus holding the wine glass and pouring the first bottle’s wine along the inside of the glass until it reaches the widest part of the bowl. For the first time, you notice that there’s only one glass on the counter. But before you can comment, Sylus begins to lecture.

“Now, if this were an ideal tasting, I’d have brought a decanter to let the wine breathe properly for an appropriate period of time before pouring. We'd also be using a container for spitting each mouthful out in between tastes, to avoid the intoxication and poor decisions I mentioned earlier and interfering with our judge of taste. But since we only have two bottles to try, and it’s just you and me here, I took the gamble that you wouldn’t mind if we were a little less formal.”  

You wait to see if he has any other fun facts to share, but he’s looking at you to confirm that indeed, you can live with not waiting even longer to taste this wine that better have gold leaf flakes in it or something to justify this amount of ceremony and can also live with not… spitting out said wonder wine after tasting it.

But you recognize that Sylus appears to be truly passionate about this, and he’s looking at you so earnestly—you do not have the heart to meet his sincerity with sarcasm, when he's so sweetly trying to teach you something new.

“Your gamble paid off. I don’t mind at all,”  you say, meaning it. He perks up and gives you one of his almost smiles, with just the corners of his generous mouth lifted. He then proceeds to explain, in great detail, what type of wine this is, where the grapes for it are grown, its signature characteristics, what year it was bottled, and how it was received by the international wine community. It’s all actually quite interesting, except once again, right now you’re at the end of a long day, you’ve run the gauntlet of interacting with this unpredictable force of nature walking around in the body of an extremely attractive man, and you feel like you should be taking notes to actually retain any of this information.

After he seems to have informed you to his satisfaction and is looking at you expectantly, you nod. “That is… very fascinating. So how do we go about actually tasting it?” You might be an uncultured heathen, but even before Sylus’s lecture, you knew there are rules when it comes to tasting wine. You just always had other things you needed to learn first, like the weakest spots on a wanderer or human body. Or the best method of sharpening knives for the sharpest edge. Or how to clean guns to prevent jamming. How to affix a scope on a sniper rifle and measure the effect of wind speed and direction on a bullet’s trajectory. Or whether you should use baking soda or baking powder as leavener when baking certain kinds of cake. You have priorities. But tonight, it seems, is the night for you to learn about wine.

Before he answers, he moves around the kitchen island to where you’re still seated on the bar stool and leans down, gently spinning your stool so that you’re facing him instead of the counter. He then pushes the one next to you closer and seats himself. Even sitting, you have to look up into his face. You suddenly realize that the way he has positioned the stools puts him so close to you that his long legs don’t have anywhere to go—he just spreads them so that one is stretched out on one side of you, and the other is between your own, his knee incredibly close to your lap. If you shift forward even a little, you could grind on him.

Why is he doing this to you? What does he want? But then it occurs to you that Sylus has never seemed to either recognize or respect boundaries like a normal person—maybe this is just how he interacts with his friends. Constant, small touches, no sense of personal space. You wonder if he and the twins huddle together on the couch, sharing a blanket, while watching something on television.

So maybe you’re the freak, imagining riding this poor guy’s meaty thigh when he’s only just trying to share his appreciation of a sophisticated beverage with you. You close your eyes. It doesn’t matter whether he’s playing this little game on purpose or not. You refuse to let him see how much his proximity is affecting you, because then he wins. You don’t know what he wins exactly, but you will beat him before you let him have it. You try to think about his big hand choking you, but instead of having the intended effect of reminding you why you should never even consider buying tickets to the safety hazard now wedged between your thighs, it has … unforeseen consequences instead. What has this man done to you?!

You open your eyes, reach across the counter and grab a handful of carefully cut pieces of cheese, and then promptly stuff them all into your mouth at once. When in crisis, cheese is always a good solution. Except for maybe the blue cheese you accidentally mixed in with the Manchego or whatever-the-fancy-fuck he brought with him. Aaaand now you’re going to smell like blue cheese for the rest of the night.

You stare at him defiantly as you chew with puffed cheeks, and brace yourself for whatever is coming next. He side eyes you, face impassive.

You’re expecting some biting comment, but “Well, that’s one way to make sure you’ve eaten enough to absorb the alcohol,” is all he says. He slowly slides the glass with two fingers along the base across the counter until it’s sitting between the two of you. “Whenever you manage to finish inhaling all that dairy, we’ll be sure that we’ve given the wine enough time to breathe.” He pauses. “It occurs to me now that while I was preparing the food, I didn’t think to ask if you’re lactose intolerant.”

You deliberately chew as slowly as you can, making him wait as a punishment for making you feel things that you should not be feeling. When you’ve swallowed, you shake your head. “Fortunately, not one of my many flaws.”

“It’s not a flaw.” He shrugs. “How can anything you can’t control about your body be a flaw? And Luke and Kieran are lactose intolerant, so I always have lactase enzyme tablets on me to avoid… unwanted consequences when they decide to have a cheese tasting contest.”

You cock your head. “A what now?”

 He rubs his middle finger between his eyebrows. “Yeah, they can’t help themselves from making a competition out of every single human activity, so on the nights the chef prepares a cheese board with dinner, they try to outmatch each other regarding who can identify the most flavors of cheeses without cheating by asking the chef or querying Mephisto or searching online. Or asking me, because I’m undefeated.”

You stare at him, and think if there’s ever any universe in which you voluntarily return to the base where Sylus kept you captive for days and touched you like he owned you, hand violently clasped in his, where you were terrified for your life, exhausted and confused… and if you ever have a friendly enough relationship with the chaos twins, you’re going to practice your ass off so that if you’re ever invited to such a competition, you can wipe the floor with them. Their cheese-off sounds fun.

Your train of thought is derailed as it registers how smug the last thing he said was. “You’re undefeated,” you repeat, giving him a chance to redeem himself. “At identifying cheeses by taste.”

“And smell, yes. So I’m not allowed to play anymore. My palate is too refined, and they know they don’t stand a chance.”

Oh, you’re definitely going to start sampling cheese every week. You cannot let this smugness stand.

“Ah yes, his royal snobness and his impeachable palate,” you roll your eyes. “Now, will his grace the Duke of Gouda please get on with the wine instruction?” You would give him a little mock bow, but that would put your face right in his formidable cleavage and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from motorboating his unfairly huge pecs. Ugh.

He snorts. “Finally, you’re showing me some long-overdue respect.”

You nod gravely, thankful that the aether core in his eye is not currently delving the depths of your depravity. It’s time to focus. On wine.

“So why do you have to let wine breathe before drinking it?” you ask, because you’re focused.

He looks pleased that you’re interested enough to ask a question. “Much like people, it’s good to expose a greater surface area of the wine to fresh air for a while—it allows undesirable scents and flavors to dissipate, so that it tastes better when you do take a sip than if you drink it straight after opening.”

“Well aren’t you wise, philosophizing about wine and people,” you smile. You find yourself being surprised again and again tonight—at his presence, his bearing gifts, his surprisingly sweet attempt to teach you something, his kind takes on lactose intolerance and what people need to be healthy.

“Did you think I only consist of feathers and spite?” He lifts the wine glass by the stem with one hand, and your hand in his other. He gently wraps your fingers around his own.

“Let’s not forget hubris and violence.” You watch as he gently swirls the wine in the glass held between you. His hand is so warm compared to your own.

“If that’s all, then you still have a lot to learn about me,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t seem offended. Almost as if he’s simply determined. To do what, you’re not sure. “I’d tell you that you should always hold a wine glass by the stem so that the heat from your hand doesn’t affect the temperature of the wine through the glass itself. But your hands are so cold—I don’t think that would be a problem for you. But if you want people to think you’re a connoisseur, you should anyway if you’re ever on an undercover mission. Now, before you take a sip, inhale the scent we’ve just released by swirling the wine.”

You do as you’re told, and lean over, hovering just over the edge of the glass and taking a deep breath. The scent of the wine, warm and deep, fills your senses.

You look up at him and smile again. “It smells really good.”

“Of course,” he lifts the bottom of the glass with his free hand so that you can straighten, and guides your other hand to support the glass while slipping his own from around the stem and allowing you to hold it by yourself. Your hand immediately feels cold again. He leans one elbow on the counter, “I chose it for you. I’m not going to let you drink plonk.”

“Plonk?” What a cute word.

“Shit wine.”

“Mmm, not allowing me to drink shit wine, you’re truly a knight in shining armor.”

“I don’t need armor, kitten. Now that you’ve established that the wine hasn’t gone off by smelling it, you can take a sip.”

You’re about to lift the glass to your lips, when he reaches up and runs his fingertips along your wrist to stop you. “As you do, don’t swallow immediately. Roll the wine with your tongue in your mouth, and try to really think about what flavors you can taste: can you detect the oak from the barrels, earth, tannin, fruit or spices? Is it sweet or dry?”

You nod, mouth suddenly dry. But you follow his instructions and take a slow sip, rolling the rich liquid around in your mouth, and then slowly swallow. A familiar warmth spreads from your stomach, radiating out through your body. His blood bright eyes follow the movement of your lips, your throat. “I taste… fruit.” You pause, trying to appear very serious about finding the perfect description of flavor. You take another sip, close your eyes. “Yes, very fruity notes. Grapes, in particular.”

You open your eyes to find him scowling at you.

“Aren’t you the comedian?” he growls. “I’m going to revoke your wine privileges if you don’t take this seriously. How are you going to feel confident if you ever need this knowledge on a mission? Or on a date?”

You just laugh at him and try to turn a little on the stool, lifting your arm to keep the glass out of his reach, but his knee between your legs prevents you from moving, and he easily leans forward, fingers drifting up the length of your arm to then wrap around your own hand on the stem. He carefully pulls it back between the two of you. Your hand feels warm again. Safely wrapped in his.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my needing to know how to pass as a wine snob on a mission. What kind of missions do you think I’m regularly going on?” You gently lift the glass again, pulling his hand with you, and take another sip. It really does taste so good. You can’t tell if it’s wildly different than the wine you normally get, but you know it doesn’t taste like it’ll leave you with a headache in the morning.

He shrugs. “If we didn’t have to bring the place down when we were at the auction, people would have been watching you at the dinner banquet. What would you have done if people started to notice that you were clutching the wine and swigging it like a drunken toddler and started to suspect that your behavior wasn't matching your cover identity?”

You gasp. “Excuse me, you don’t know how I normally drink my wine!” Who does this bastard think he is? And here you were, thinking he was sweet, sincerely trying to share one of his interests with you. “I don’t need you patronizing me regarding how I’d manage at a formal event or on a date! I’ve been on plenty of dates where I was able to drink wine without driving off my partner.” You try to pull away from him, and the wine sloshes dangerously with your movement.

“Sit still,” he commands, holding your hand tight with his and placing one large palm on your bare thigh. You immediately freeze. “I watched you gulp wine from a mug the last time I was here,” he retorts.

“So you think that just because I don’t care what you think, I can’t read the room and act according to the demands of the situation?” The indignation coursing through you is amplified by the wine spreading through you.

“Then is it fair to say that you didn’t feel the need for any pretense between us last time because you’re so comfortable with me, and not because you’re as civilized as a cactus?” he asks, running his thumb gently back and forth along your inner thigh.

Your brain is being scrambled by his thumb, how close he is to you, his clavicle exposed by the V of his sweater’s neckline, the scent of his warm, clean skin, the wine going to your head after a long exhausting day.

“I’m saying I don’t feel the need to impress you in my own home when you show up uninvited and demand beverages and band aids,” you finally manage. You’re warm. Too warm. “And what’s wrong with being a cactus?”

“Did I say there was something wrong with it? Cacti can survive the harshest conditions on earth and still produce the most beautiful flowers. And they hurt when they stab you.” He smiles like the thought pleases him immensely.

You can’t process this. He says shit like this so easily—he can’t possibly mean it in the way you are trying so hard to deny that you want him to mean it. You refuse to be lured in, only to see the cruel lines of his face when he realizes you have pathetic feelings for him. The man who could as easily rip your spine from your ribcage as offer you a glass of wine, if you lose your usefulness to him. A usefulness you still don’t know the nature of.

You’re suddenly viciously aware of how close he is to you, how he is watching your face with an intensity that makes you feel like the use of his aether core is unnecessary: you’re afraid that he can see everything you’re feeling, and you hate it. You need space. “What are we even doing, Sylus?”

His eyes drift from your eyes to your mouth, and you try very hard to steel your expression, to conceal how utterly raw and exposed he’s making you feel. You can’t tell if you’re successful, when he finally lifts his hand from your thigh and runs the back of his knuckles with such softness along your cheek that it makes you ache. You resist the urge to turn your face and nuzzle his palm.

“We’re tasting wine, sweetheart.” He leans back, pulling the glass of wine you’re still holding with him. He inhales deeply, and then takes a sip, eyes glittering over the rim, watching you. “It is a good vintage. But it’s not the only one I brought.” He guides your joined hands to set the glass on the counter, and then gets up, rounding the counter to rummage in a bag on the floor on the other side. When he stands up, he’s holding another wine glass.

You do a double take. “You brought two glasses?”

He looks from you to the glass in his hand, then back to the glass still on the counter, and then lifts his eyebrows. “Is this a trick question?”

“Why haven’t we been drinking about of separate glasses then?” you demand.

He shrugs. “That glass is for that bottle,” he nods to the glass sitting next to you. “This glass is for this bottle.” He gestures at the other, untasted bottle sitting on the counter. “No need to rinse our glasses in between tastes.”

You want to laugh, and cry. You’re so fucking done with thinking for tonight.

“Okay, Sylus. Whatever you say,” you sigh.

“Oh, I quite like the sound of that,” he smiles, one canine peeking over his lip. “Then you’re going to enjoy the sorbet I brought for us as a palate cleanser.”

He proceeds to go to your freezer, scoop out some of the aforementioned sorbet that has apparently been in there all evening into a bowl, and takes the stool next to you again. This time, he situates one long leg on either side of you, caging you in. He takes a spoonful and offers it to you. “This will help rinse your palate so that you can taste the next bottle without any lingering effects of the other.”

You look from his seemingly guileless face to the spoonful of sorbet. Yup, you’re really done thinking for tonight. You lean forward and open your lips. He slips the lemon sorbet into your mouth. His eyes remain on your lips as he pulls the spoon away, dips it back into the sorbet, and brings it to his own mouth.

After he continues to trade spoonfuls with you until the sorbet is gone, he pours the second glass of wine, and you both take turns sipping it in companionable silence.

“Now tell me. Which one is your favorite?” he asks after you’ve finished the second glass, and return to the first to finish it as well.

“I like them both,” you shrug. “Sorry for not having a more sophisticated answer.” You’re feeling drowsy and loose. He can walk off a tall building for all you care if he doesn’t like your answer.

“They’re both excellent wines. Each one is suited for multiple situations or meal combinations. They’re versatile, just like you are. And I don’t require any particular answer, except your honest one. I think you already know that you don’t need to put on an act for me, ever.”

You rest your elbow on the counter, mirroring his position, and rest your head in your hand. “Why would I pretend with you, if you can just force the truth out of me?”

“I will never do that to you.”

You look away. “You’ve already done it to me once before. What else is there to hide, when you’ve seen the ugliest parts of me?”

“I will not do it again. Not unless you ask me to,” he says so solemnly that you’re tempted to be a fool and believe him. “And is that what you think? That what I saw was ugly?”

You sit up, take the glass from him and knock back the rest of the wine in one gulp. You can't do this right now. You can't think about the the violent hunger, the savage thirst, that his eye brought from the depths of your soul when he forced his way into your deepest, darkest desires the night you met. The extent of how much you wanted to kill him, and make it hurt, when you thought he had killed Caleb and your grandmother. How you still feel that hunger and rage, with every wanderer you kill, every time you hope some dealer in modified protocores resists arrest so you can put them down, with prejudice.

“I’m tired, Sylus. Thank you for the lesson. Now I can successfully fool rich assholes at upscale dens of corruption and unsuspecting dates into believing that I’m a sophisticated connoisseur of overpriced beverages, and swindle them all. And I’ll never horrify you again by swigging wine out of a mug like a drunken toddler. You should invoice the Association for your services. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“I see. You’re still on guard, and defensive, when you're drunk too. How fascinating.” He narrows his eyes, not seeming to get the hint that you want him to leave now.

“I’m not drunk. I’m maybe tipsy, and I’m fucking tired. I’m going to bed.”

“All right,” he says easily. He stands and begins tidying up the counter.

“All right,” you repeat, feeling a little dizzy, a little empty. “You know where the door is.”

“As you say,” he says serenely, pulling out food storage containers you also didn’t realize you own and packing the food away.

“Thanks again,” you say, because you are polite, dammit. You make your way into the bathroom and begin getting ready for bed. When you emerge, your flat is dark. The kitchen looks pristine in the streetlight drifting in through the windows. You stare for a moment longer, wondering if maybe he’s finally given up on whatever his agenda with you is after your little emotional display tonight, and he’ll stop coming by now. You’re fine with that. Maybe this is what you’ve needed to do all along. Get drunk and sloppy. Guarded, defensive, he called you. What an asshole.

You pad into the bedroom, yawning, pulling up your phone to look at it as you walk. Maybe you should try listening to audiobooks to try to help with the insomnia. Like, boring ones with deep, sexy voiced narrators who can bore you to sleep like Sylus did the other night. You crawl onto the bed, and then—

“The fuck, Sylus?”

He’s sitting in the middle of your bed, sweater off and replaced by… nothing. Just the expanse of his big, creamy chest. And he’s wearing a pair of silky looking loose, black pyjama pants. An impossibly soft looking line of silver hair drifts from his tight navel, disappearing under his waistband. His gold-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, like last time, and he’s scrolling through something on his tablet. He glances up at you, but then goes back to his… spreadsheets?

“Haven’t we already been through that little routine tonight?” he asks, and yawns. “I’m getting déjà vu.”

“What. Are. You. Doing?” you seethe.

“Going over the financials from the meeting with my accountant today.”

“Why?” You just sit there on your knees, on your bed, gaping at him like an idiot.

“To ensure that my next acquisition is suited to purpose.”

“What?”

His gaze flicks to you, and he pushes the glasses further up his nose. “Well, I made a promise that I wouldn’t change a thing about my latest business venture, so now I need to ensure that the next chain of businesses I acquire can serve one of the functions I had intended for the arcades.”

“What function is that?” you ask, curious now, despite yourself.

“Well, one of two primary functions,” he amends, tapping his temple thoughtfully with a finger.

“Okay,” you say slowly, inviting him to continue.

“Money laundering.”

You shake your head. “Come again?”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to. Thank you for the invitation. I wasn’t sure I’d ever receive one again, what with your heavily implied dismissal earlier.”

“Sylus!”

“Yes, my most precious gem?”

“What do you mean you intended to use the arcades for money laundering?” You want to cry even thinking about it.

“To be fair, after you asked me so sweetly not to change a thing, I immediately agreed. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But that’s why you wanted to buy them?” How many times can a heart hurt in one night?

“I said that was one of the two primary reasons I wanted those arcades,” he says, reaching out with one hand and softly stroking your knee.

You look down, watching his calloused fingers drifting so sweetly across your skin. How can this man be so cruel and so gentle at the same time?

“What was the other reason, then?”

“Guess.”

“I’m done playing games with you tonight, Sylus.”

“When was I playing a game tonight?”

“Fine, don’t tell me. Just promise again that you won’t change anything about my favorite arcade.”

He sets the tablet on his lap, and reaches over to grasp your hand. He links your pinkie with his, and lifts it to his lips. “I already promised. And I promise again.” He seals the promise with a brush of his lips, and then rests both of your hands on the bed between you.

You don’t know why, and you will probably never know why, but you believe him right now. It’s clear that no matter what you do, he will not be leaving tonight without great violence on your part, and once again, you’re just too tired to fight him anymore. He reads your body like a damn book, because he silently hands you the glass of water that was sitting next to him on the nightstand. "Even if you're not drunk, but only maybe just a little tipsy," he says, doing an awful imitation of your voice. "You should still drink some water so you don't feel terrible in the morning."

Perhaps because of your easy compliance with his reasonable advice by simply taking the water and drinking it, he seems to deem it safe to pull you into his side. You go down, resting your head on his thick shoulder, and let your gaze wander over his tablet.

“So what are you thinking of buying this time?” you ask, yawning.

 He shifts, lifting your head so that he can wrap his arm around you, repositioning you so that you’re tucked a little closer under his chin, cheek resting against his chest. “A chain of casinos.”

“Casinos?” you laugh softly. “That’s on brand, I guess.”

“Mmhmm.” He runs his fingertips absently along your arm, from wrist to elbow and back again. “Lots of money changing hands. Ideal for functioning as a washing machine for the dirty proceeds from the weapons business, which comes out clean in the pockets of lucky winners.”

“You make your living profiting off the worst in people, you know that?” you ask sleepily, the numbers on the screen blurring.

“They’ll continue being terrible, with or without my involvement. I don’t make them take the bet, or pull the trigger. And if I don't, someone else will put the chip or gun in their hands. Might as well be me collecting the paycheck.”

“Maybe, through the power of friendship, I can change your mind,” you murmur. You don’t think you’ll need that audiobook to fall asleep tonight.

“Friendship, huh?” Sylus asks, but when he looks down at you, he sees that you’ve already fallen asleep. He traces the long sweep of your eyelashes across your cheeks with his eyes, feels your measured, calm breath drifting across his skin. He gently touches one finger to the ruby earring you haven’t taken out yet. The thrill of satisfaction he felt when you answered the door still wearing it would sustain him for weeks. He is absolutely certain that it won’t be the power of friendship that’s going to change him.

He pulls you a little closer into his chest, snorts when he feels you begin to drool onto his pec, and continues scrolling through his tablet.

That night, you dream. You’re walking through your childhood home—but not your childhood home from before your memories, because you will never know what that home looked like. This one, the home from your earliest memories, with its wood panelling on the walls, old-fashioned lace curtains in the windows that you can’t see out of, because it’s pitch black beyond the glass. Hallways lengthening at the same pace as you can walk down them, boots echoing on the polished hardwood floor. You walk and walk, and you can never reach the end. Doors that won’t open, but you know Caleb might be behind them, because in your dream logic, his bedroom is behind every door you pass. You turn the handles, but they remain locked. Sometimes you think you can hear the sound of someone biting into an apple, crisp flesh giving way to sharp teeth, but the door won’t open no matter how hard you throw yourself against it. You hear your grandmother speaking, just around every corner, but you can’t understand what she’s saying. You follow the sound, and every time you think that she’s just around the next turn in the hall, the corridor stretches in front of you again, empty.

You have been in this empty house for years now, and you’re afraid that you’ll never be able to get out. But you’re more afraid that once you get out, you’ll never hear them making these particular sounds again, this slim proof of their existence echoing through the empty hallways.

Slowly, you wake up, and in that endless moment caught between your dream and reality, it’s just peaceful and black—you are coming from somewhere so far away toward something you know will hurt, and you’re not ready to feel that yet. But then a feeling of suffocation is overwhelming you, and you open your eyes to realize you’re literally being smothered by a very big, very warm body.

The relief you feel, the gratitude, that Sylus is still here, that you aren’t waking up alone, again, from the nightmare in your sleep to the reality that the nightmare is real, and you’ll never be able to see your family again, is more overwhelming than your current need for oxygen. Sylus is still here, and the yawning emptiness you were carrying with you for what felt like years during that long dream dissipates in the warmth of his body against yours. You can’t help yourself. Your throw your arm that isn’t being crushed by him over his torso and hug him tightly to you, giving in to the urge to nuzzle his chest and just listen to his steady heartbeat.

You lie like that for awhile, blissfully listening to his soft breathing, when suddenly you realize that pressed so close to him, you can feel every contour of his body, from your chest against his abdomen, his muscular, silk-covered thigh wedged between your legs, and his apparently very, very big dick pressing into your hip.

You freeze, feeling like the creep you have accused him several times of being. He’s just sleeping, and you’ve plastered yourself against him like a vacuum sealed burrito. You have absolutely no business being utterly thrilled that this part of him matches the rest of him in terms of size and intimidation. You will not be taking this joy stick for a test drive. You can get out of this. You’re a very good hunter, and you can evade detection and make a tactical retreat when necessary. And it’s very necessary right now, because you do not want him to wake up and find you attached to him like a love-sick leech.

Slowly, sooo slowly, you slide your arm from where it is slung over his waist, and begin to incrementally scooch backwards, his leg slipping from between both of yours, freezing when he seems to shift a little, and then continuing the slow slide away when he settles again.

You’ve managed to extricate all of your limbs from him, except the one that is currently numb and squashed underneath him. You slowly roll onto your back and contemplate how you’re going to get it out from under him without waking him, when suddenly his arm flops over your waist. You jerk in surprise, eyes flying to his face, but his are still closed. His hand slides from your waist to your hip, and then snakes around to take a big handful of your ass. He makes a little happy noise and then pulls your body into his again. In the process, he has managed to jam his thigh back between your legs. You stare at his face, trying desperately to see if he’s starting to wake yet—how did you even end up in this situation? Then he pulls you even closer, causing his thigh to press deliciously against you. You suppress a whine, because it has been so long since someone has touched you liked this. But of course the person who is touching you is a maniac and is doing so while still asleep. You reach up and pat his cheek to wake him up, simultaneously trying to to pull away from him, but tightens his arms around you again, dipping his head to your shoulder still exposed by his too-big sweater.  You freeze in shock as he inhales deeply and hums, and soft kisses trail from your neck down, and before you can push him away he bites into the meat of your shoulder. The pain, pressure, and warmth of his mouth on your skin have you trying to arch away and into him—you do whine this time, loudly, because it hurts but you want.

Suddenly, his whole body seems to tense. The pressure on your shoulder eases, and he sighs, his breath cool drifting along your over-heated skin.

“Good morning.”

You open your eyes, realizing you’d been squeezing them shut through the last few moments, and meet his sleepy gaze.

"Were you awake?” you demand, terrified of the answer. Because if he was, then what the hell was he thinking, pretending to be asleep? And if he wasn't, was he just dreaming? Was it you in his dream, or was he dreaming of someone else? You don't want to know. You have to know.

“Your rather loud response to my love bite woke me up, I think,” he smiles softly. "I didn't realize that I was... dreaming until then."

“So you didn’t mean to—” you start to pull away.

He tightens his arm around your waist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sylus, let go. I’m sorry for not waking you fast enough. I was just—I was just shocked. I know you wouldn’t have done that otherwise.” You struggle, but his arm is a steel bar holding you in place.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have,” he agrees, and you feel whatever fragile, tender root that had been growing in the cracks of your broken heart wither, the dry husk drifting away in an autumn breeze. Replacing that faint feeling of hope, you're livid that you do not share the same teleportation ability that Xavier and Sylus have. If you could, you'd teleport in a poof of glittering light or melodramatic feathers. To anywhere else but here.

You nod, and nod, and nod, because he’s not letting you move but you have to do something or else he’ll see it right on your stupid, open face, and you’d rather he slit your throat than see the pain his rejection is inflicting on you. You had lied to him earlier, about not having anything to hide, about always being honest with him. You've been lying to yourself, and to him, ever since you met him.

“What I mean—” he’s looking at you intently, and you want to cover his eyes with your hands, because as always they’re seeing too much, but suddenly, the doorbell rings through your flat.

You both turn your heads to look at the bedroom door at the same time.

Oh. Fuck.

Xavier.

Sylus turns to look back at you, so close that his nose brushes yours. “Expecting company, kitten?”

“It’s Xavier. Shit.” You try to roll away, and this time he lets you. You grab your phone off the nightstand and see that Xavier has already texted you a few times to see if you’re ready to head to the bookstore yet. The texts grow increasingly concerned the longer you don’t respond. The doorbell rings again. “You have to go. Now.”

You turn to Sylus, who is now lying leisurely on his side, head propped up in his hand, silky silver hair cascading across his forehead, occupying the bed like an imperialist force annexing a weaker neighbor’s territory, with no intention of leaving.

“And what are you going to do?” he asks, eyes drifting from your face, to your shoulder, down to your bare legs.

“I need to answer the door and tell Xavier that I’m running late.”

“Late for what?”

“Sylus, I don’t have time for this. You can’t be here. Xavier helped me get into the N109 zone, he spends a lot of time there—he’s smart enough that if he finds out what you look like, he might eventually be able to figure out who you are. You can’t be here,” you repeat, starting to panic. Sylus may not have any feelings for you beyond friendship or a predator toying with its food, but you still don’t want him to get caught because of you.

“You’re not working today. What plans do you have with him?” he asks, completely ignoring your distress.

“We’re going to the bookstore. We were going to spend our first day free just reading manga and eating junk food,” you rush out impatiently.

Sylus just looks at you for a few beats, the picture of lazy boredom on a weekend morning.

“Okay? Are you satisfied? Can you please leave now?” This is good. You can avoid the inevitable, It was a mistake, thought you were someone else, was dreaming about a giant amorous anthropomorphized ruby, you’re not exactly my type, because my type is someone who has their shit together, can identify what fucking region a certain grape was grown in and its exact soil acidity based on the year of the vintage, my type is someone else, anyone else—you reach down and hit yourself hard in the side of your thigh with a fist to get your head on straight, and start heading to your closet, intent on throwing on a robe or longer shorts so that you don't answer the door looking like you're not wearing any pants.

Sylus's irritated voice follows you. “Satisfied? No, I'm not feeling satisfied. But I would advise against answering the door wearing that.”

You jerk to a halt. “Excuse me?” You turn to find him scowling at you.

He waves a dismissive finger at the sweater and silk shirts you’re still wearing. “I think you should change before you answer the door.”

“I look that bad, huh? Thanks for the advice. You need to be gone when I get back.” You turn, hating everything and everyone, and make your way to the front door.

You throw it open, just as Xavier is lifting his hand to ring your bell again. His sky blue eyes, usually so calm and sleepy, widen when he takes in the dumpster fire that you are today.

“Hi, yeah, sorry. I overslept,” you rush out, hoping you can skip this part and go straight to the moving on with your day and your entire life part. “I just need like, fifteen minutes, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Did you get in a fight with a wanderer last night after we go home?” he asks, hand lifting again, this time toward you, as if he wants to touch you, but then thinks better of it and drops it back to his side. He’s wearing the white hoodie that Sylus stole from him. What even is your life right now?

“What? No, I just had some wine and was really tired.” He’s staring at you, brow furrowed now, and it takes a minute to realize that he’s staring at the sweater hanging off your shoulder. You suddenly get a really, really bad feeling. “Why?”

He lifts his hand again, and points, but in a kind of timid way, like a little kid who knows that it’s rude to point but can’t help himself anyway so just points a little so that his mom won’t get mad at him. “It looks like a wanderer bit you.”

You lift your own hand and touch your shoulder, and feel the too-warm skin there, the ache spreading deep into the muscle.

“Oooh, yeah. Yes.” You decide that you need to take acting classes. That is what you will do as your new hobby, on your few days off. You’re going to win the best actor award if it kills you, because if it doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment will kill you instead. And you’d rather die convincing everyone that everything is normal and you’re fine, and not from the embarrassment of the fact that your not-boyfriend, not-fuck-buddy, not-interested-at-all, probably not even your friend anymore Sylus accidentally bit you while fucking asleep and left evidence of it for all the world to see. “I did respond to a really minor alert in the neighborhood last night. It was only one wanderer. Hiding in a trash can of all places,” you laugh, not at all sounding unhinged. Convincing. “Bit me pretty good, but it really was nothing, I had completely forgotten about it. So, still on for the bookstore?” you ask, chipper, eager, well-adjusted!

Xavier stares at your shoulder for a few seconds longer, and then just nods. “Yeah, just text me when you’re ready.”

Bless him. You’ve almost put him back to sleep with your absolutely stellar performance. “Okay, great! See you soon.” You back into your flat again and let the door shut with a heavy click.

Xavier stands outside your door for several moments after you’ve scurried back inside. He thinks about how sharp his light blade is. He thinks about how he’s going to use it on whatever motherfucker thinks that he has the right to mark Xavier’s partner like an animal. And then he yawns, and meanders back to his own flat to wait for your text because he has all the time in the world, and the patience to match it. Xavier is your partner, and he’s not going anywhere, anytime soon. If he murders whatever asshole was in your flat last night right now, that might interfere with your bookstore plans with him.

You stand on the other side of the door for a moment, just trying to collect yourself. You lean against the cool surface, look up at your ceiling. Breathe in the smell of shoe leather, oiled metal. Absently you lift your hand to your shoulder. Why didn’t Sylus warn you before you went to open the door? He even admitted that he wouldn’t have … done that to you if he hadn’t been asleep. Why would he just… and then it hits you. He did tell you to change clothes before you answered the door. The asshole just didn’t tell you why. But he would know by now that you’d actually do the opposite of whatever he says, because he’s not the boss of you. He played you like one of his fucking records.

But why the fuck would he want Xavier to see what happened between the two of you? Does he enjoy your humiliation that much?

You have no idea if you’ll ever have the chance to figure him out, especially if he got the hint that you don’t want to see him anytime soon. You shake your head. Even though you should be exhausted after staying up so late and ending up on the human embodiment of a roller coaster with its wheels coming off despite all of your promises to yourself last night, you feel well-rested. You will survive this. You can survive anything.

You head back to your bedroom to confirm that Sylus is actually gone, because last night proved that whether he actually listens when you tell him to leave depends entirely on his own whims. As you enter, the late morning sunlight spills into the room. He really left. The room is empty. The books and various weapons on your nightstands have been stacked neatly and lined up just so. The clothes that had been left haphazardly hanging off your chest of drawer handles or strewn over the floor are nowhere to be seen. It would be the tidiest your bedroom has been in weeks, if not for the fact that your entire bed is covered in a thick layer of black feathers.

“This bitch,” you breathe.

It’s going to take at least two full size trash bags to clean this mess up.

You decide then and there that Sylus doesn’t have a choice about whether he’s going to see you again. You’re going to bag up these feathers and then tar and feather him with them the next time you see his gorgeous, petty fucking face.

[kyletogaz]

kyle seducing the cold detached woman who's levels above his station 😔

yeah so i wrote way too much

pairing: kyle garrick x fem!reader | cw: third person pov, hints to childhood trauma, therapy is mentioned, smut

it doesn’t help that he has a big fat crush on her. and she knows this, but couldn’t give two fucks.

kyle has never had to work this hard to get someone into his bed. he’d barely turn on the charm and would still have them dropping their panties. but this woman in particular, she made him realize it wasn’t going to be easy and he’d have to work for it.

kyle starts giving her flowers with cute little notes attached and she just chucks them into the trash because, “i don’t like roses, garrick. stop sending me flowers.”

kyle does not listen to her at all though. every bouquet he buys gets thrown away, much to his dismay. she’ll never tell him this, but one day she ended up giving a vase of flowers to one of her girlfriends because they were far too pretty to be in someone’s trash bin. eventually, kyle stops sending flowers and steps his game up.

he starts leaving chocolate on her desk, her favorite brands at that. it’s the fancy and expensive kind too.

at first, the chocolate just sits on her desk untouched. she would rather eat a jean jacket than to admit she finds it kind of cute that kyle refuses to give up. her icy exterior begins to dissolve a little when he starts popping up with snacks, jumbo crossword puzzles, and books for her to read.

“i’m still not entertaining whatever you think is going to happen between us, garrick. keep your delusions to yourself,” she says flatly, but thanks him and accepts his gifts anyway.

kyle just laughs and says, “we’ll see.”

his response bothers her for the rest of the day and she can’t figure out why.

her heart softens even more when her birthday arrives and she’s stuck in her office doing paperwork. she’s absolutely miserable about it, until kyle knocks on her door, her words getting stuck in her throat when she sees the cake and balloons he has for her.

“why would you do all of this!?” she asks hotly, once she’s regained her composure. she doesn’t even know why she’s so upset with him in the first place. he’s just being nice.

“because you deserve it, and you shouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone.”

she wants to rage at him some more. she wants to throw him out and tell him to never come back because somehow he’s managed to worm his way into her heart. she wants to kick him in his shin for making her fall for him. but because she can’t bring herself to do any of that, she lets him stay to sing happy birthday to her.

and if kyle’s visits become more frequent after that, she can’t find it in herself to complain. his presence makes her happy.

kyle can be a very persistent man when he needs to be, but he chooses to believe she’ll change her mind about him eventually. she’s been opening up to him more, and he considers that progress.

he remembers the first time he met her. she was a pretty thing with a no nonsense attitude. he knew he was down bad for this woman when he’d come to her defense whenever he heard people calling her a bitch around base.

and today was no different. she was well aware of the names people called her, but she really didn’t give a shit. “it doesn’t hurt me,” she says to kyle, who’s currently holding a recruit by the collar of his shirt.

he’d been within earshot of the little bastard addressing his soon to be sweetheart by several unpleasant names that made his blood boil.

kyle is more than pissed off, especially after she orders him to let the young recruit go. “you hear the names they call you, the things they say. and yet you do fuck all about it,” he snaps before sighing. he’s not mad at her though. he’s just a little frustrated because she won’t so anything about it. he refuses to believe that nothing bothers her.

she stares at kyle in shock. he’s never spoken to her like this before, and she doesn’t like it one bit. so she tells him to get out.

but unfortunately for her, kyle doesn’t budge. “nah,” he says, before taking a seat on the chair in front of her desk. “i think i’ll sit here a little longer. you can finish your work, i won’t bother you.”

she just huffs at him, then picks her pen up and resumes her work.

when she’s done, kyle is still there. he has his earbuds in and he’s laughing quietly at something on his phone. she just knows he’s on tiktok. probably watching some video about a cat. when she finds herself staring too hard and enjoying his laughter just a bit too much, she nudges him under the desk with her foot.

kyle pulls his earbuds out and sits up straight. “you finished, love?”

love?

it’s the first time he’s called her that, and it wrecks her a little bit. i don’t deserve him, she thinks to herself.

she just nods silently in response to his question, not trusting herself to speak and only doing so when kyle offers to walk her to her quarters. if he’s surprised when she says yes, he doesn’t show it. he just ushers her out of the office and down the hallway.

when they arrive at her door, she thanks him. kyle just waves her off and says, “anything for you, sweetheart.”

“stop calling me that,” she huffs. “and stop doing whatever this is.”

she watches as kyle’s brows furrow in confusion. “what is it that you think i’m doing?”

“if you wanted to get into my pants, you could have just asked.” she actually laughs when kyle stares at her in surprise. “and don’t act so shocked, garrick. i’ve known what you wanted since day one.”

“do you?” kyle asks as he steps into her space, watching in amusement as she fumbles to come up with an answer. he knew she would have told him to fuck off when they first met. “if you think sex is all i want, then you’re wrong. i want you.”

she’ll lie about it for the rest of her life if anyone ever asks her how she responded to kyle’s statement. instead of tearing him apart with her words, she gets a little teary eyed, much to her embarrassment.

“you shouldn’t want me,” she whimpers. “i haven’t been very nice to you.”

kyle just shrugs and lets her know that he likes a challenge every now and then. he doesn’t let her respond. he bids her goodnight with a kiss on her forehead, then gently shoves her into her room.

kyle walks her to her room again the next evening, and this time, he bullies her into inviting him in. she almost had a fit when he climbed into her bed and demanded she cuddle with him. at first, the word no was at the tip of her tongue, but then the intrusive thoughts won that round.

she’d struggled with how intimate it was to have kyle’s arms around her, not wanting him to touch her because she knew it would shatter the walls she’d carefully built over the years. he took one look at her and told her to stop fighting her feelings. she’d almost snapped at him, until she saw the look in his eyes. she’d hurt him and herself if she told him no. so she surrendered herself to him completely.

“it’s just for tonight, you can go back to hating me tomorrow.”

her heart breaks when kyle says it so casually, as if he’s trying not to make it a big thing, when it absolutely is.

she’s never hated kyle a day in her life. she just doesn’t understand why he wants to be with someone as cold as her? why would he want to be with a woman who was so damn traumatized, she thought everyone who approached her had some ulterior motive. having an unpleasant childhood and learning not to trust anyone would do that to a person.

during a session, she spoke to her therapist about kyle. she even told the other woman about the gifts he gave her. he won’t leave me alone, she had complained.

have you asked him to leave you be?

well, no. but—

think about why that is.

she’d almost quit therapy that day. she didn’t want to think about kyle and the way he made her feel.

after the life she’d lived, she promised to never let anyone get close enough to see how vulnerable she could be. she was convinced they would just take advantage. so she hardened her heart and became more frigid as the years went by. sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see an ounce of her past self.

“you’re tense.”

her body gives a little surprised jolt at the sound of kyle’s voice. “i’m sorry,” she mumbles, while trying to relax in his arms.

“what’s on your mind?” kyle asks, before pressing a kiss to her forehead and stroking a hand down her back.

she shrugs and tells him not to worry about it, even though she knows it’s already too late for that.

“don’t do that. there’s something bothering you, sweetheart.”

she sighs softly, before lifting her head off his chest. “you’re right, but i don’t want to talk about it right now. just hold me please.”

and it’s truly a blur after that, not knowing how she ended up on her back with kyle’s fingers intertwined with hers and his cock buried deep in her pussy. he’s already syphoned one orgasm out of her with his tongue, and now he wants to have her creaming around his cock this time.

she’s not sure what she’s gotten herself into. because when kyle gives her the filthiest grind against her pussy, his leaking cock pressing up against her g-spot, her eyes roll so far back into her head, she’s surprised they don’t get stuck. a pleasure filled sob spills from her lips when kyle does it again and again until she’s clawing at his back and wailing so loud, he has to quickly smother her cries with his mouth.

he knows she’ll probably never life it down if someone walks by the room and hears how loud she can be when she’s getting fucked within an inch of her life.

kyle actually has the audacity to pause mid thrust to say, “damn, i didn’t know you could sing like that.”

he laughs when she gives him a whiny shut up and fuck me please. he watches the way her scowl disappears when he pulls out, then bullies his cock back into her drooling pussy.

“fuck, pussy’s so tight and wet around my dick, just gushing,” kyle hisses out with a roll of his hips, eyes almost crossing when she tightens around his cock. “you’re gonna strangle me to death. christ.”

“i’m sorry,” she manages to choke out through the overwhelming sensation of his cock hitting her sweet spot repeatedly. she was in fucking heaven.

“don’t be. you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart,” kyle croons in her ear. “you’re takin’ me so well. gonna have you fallin’ apart on this dick every night.”

“please.” his words are entirely too much for her handle.

“please what?” kyle coos, as his cock drags against her spongy walls. “gonna see how good you’ll be when i stretch that ass out with my fingers first, and then on my cock.”

the cry she emits when her senses white out completely and all she can feel is the sheer pleasure of her orgasm, is loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.

kyle doesn’t slow down when he tells her to give him one more. she wants to call him greedy, but she’s too busy moaning and writhing underneath him while he rubs her clit in sync with his thrusts. when she cums again, kyle is filling her pussy up to the brim with his seed and moaning her name.

kyle has to force her out of bed after he suggests they shower and change the sheets. she whines about being tired, but lets him guide her to the bathroom anyway.

she spirals a little when she’s sure she kyle is sleeping. she doesn’t want him to hear her weeping. and the second a pitiful whimper escapes her mouth, she’s out of the bed and locking herself in the bathroom, where she can cry freely.

she tries to avoids kyle after that, but he’s not having it.

he won’t let her run from this. when she tries to deny it, he calls her out on it and lets her know that they’ll be having a lengthy discussion when he gets back. “my teammates and i are leaving base. gotta put an end to some shit none of us want to deal with, and i’m not sure when i’ll be back, sweetheart.”

during the three months that kyle is gone, she’s missing him more than she thought she would. phone calls and video calls aren’t enough anymore. he tries to soothe her by telling her he’ll be seeing her soon, but she cries anyway.

it’s only then that she comes to a startling realization.

she finally tells her therapist what she’s been wanting to tell kyle for weeks.

i think i love him. no, i know i love him.

when she sees kyle again, she launches herself at him immediately, much to everyone’s surprise, because since when was kyle dating anyone.

soap, price, and ghost can’t help but to stare at her and kyle in wonder. she’s clutching at kyle, while crying her eyes out and telling him how much she loves him and how much she misses him. eyebrows raise when she drags him into a kiss that’s damn near pornographic.

kyle beams at her when he pulls away from the kiss, before he pulls her in for a soft peck and a hug that leaves her a little breathless.

and leave it up to him to ruin the moment when he says, “so, about that talk.”

she just groans and let him drag her across the tarmac.

-

a/n: thank you for sending this message and i hope you enjoy.

[cosmerelists]

Bridge 4 Discuss Terrible Pickup Lines

As (sort of) requested by @dewypeach and @imtheseventh

So back when @cam-ulu29 asked for a Kaladin flirting list, I ran a poll about whether it should be a sincere, sweet list or a list full of terrible, out-of-character pickup lines. The former won by a MILE, but some people were interested in the latter. Dewypeach & imtheseventh in particular suggested doing something with Bridge 4 either suggesting terrible pickup lines or having Kaladin try them out. So here's something like that!

Skar: Worst pickup lines you can come up with. Go.

Lopen: I suggested one for Kaladin, but it wasn't terrible--it was really good. He acted like it was terrible, though--does that count?

Kaladin: It WAS terrible.

Kaladin: And...weird.

Kaladin: I'm not going to flirt with Dalinar. He is my boss. And married. And old.

Lopen: So what I said, right, was that Kal should look Dalinar right in the eye, all serious-like, and say, "My relationship with my father is terrible. Will you be my new Daddy?"

Moash: [spits out drink]

Skar: No!

Lopen: Listen, it would work! I can read a man, and I KNOW that would work on Dalinar!

Kaladin: I DON'T WANT TO FLIRT WITH DALINAR, MY MARRIED ELDERLY BOSS

Lopen: Okay, okay! If you prefer to flirt with Navani, you just gotta roll up with something like, "So I heard you like long, thick towers. It just so happens that I..."

Kaladin: NO

Moash: See, the thing is, Kal, you're attractive enough that you could probably get away with a really bad pickup line.

Moash: I bet you could tell someone that you want to "Plunge straight into their their Honor Chasm" and I bet it would work.

Kaladin: That would absolutely not work.

Moash: You say that, and yet...

Rock: Moash has point, though! We are all well-known now, yes? All good-looking (except maybe for Lopen, who is unfortunately very short). I think men like us get away with some pretty bad lines, yeah?

Letyen: "You did a bridge run straight into my heart."

Moash: "I wanna explore YOUR chasms."

Kaladin: (What's you and the chasms, man?)

Lyn: "Let's...bridge this distance between us."

Teft: "I'm from Bridge 4. Do you want to get a drink?"

Skar: "Let me show you how good I am with my spear."

Sigzil: "You prefilled the forms in my heart."

[They all look at him]

Sigzil: What? In Azir, that's a very effective line.

Moash: Is that true, though, or are you making up Azir stories to trick us stupid Alethi?

Sigzil: [sips drink enigmatically]

Kaladin: Fine, fine, okay!

Kaladin: If I wanted to "pick someone up" with my Bridge 4 cred, I guess I'd try something like...

Kaladin: ...

Kaladin: Uh... How about: "My days in the bridge crews were horrible and dark. I barely survived. I lost a lot of friends. Good friends. It haunts me still. But now that I'm out, I've decided to live. And that means doing things that make me WANT to live."

Kaladin: "Like going out with you!"

Kaladin: [Looks at them expectantly]

Moash: Oh, Kal...

Lopen: Even your pretty face can't save that one, gon...

Skar: The thick tower line is looking better and better...

Kaladin: WELL YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES WHO BROUGHT IT UP

[court-jobi]

You're It For Me

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 4K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Pro-hero Bakugou/Pro-hero Reader, canon-typical aftermath, love confessions, light hurt/comfort, protective Bakugou is protective, bedsharing-not spicy (yet)

Summary:

Bakugou fears very little in this life- because he knows with you by his side, even fighting the worst of the worst villains is easier when you're on the other end of the line in his headset. But never one to let things go unsaid, he makes sure to cup the side of your face and tell you the greatest promise short of 'I love you' that he can before storming out for the mission: "You're it for me. Got that?" You have to swear it back every time, so he believes it. It's both a promise and a lifeline- especially when he hears the worst possible communique: that the team's lost visual of you.

A/N: my ao3 loves have encouraged this pairing to be something of a series, so maybe that's what this will become!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

Beeping right into his left eardrum signals an incoming update through Bakugou’s earpiece, pinpointing the alert straight to the source over the raucous cheers of his thankful public. He’d taken on the ‘A’ grouping of villains, while you pursued ‘B’ as they made an escape from the scene. The ‘A’ punks were the ‘muscle’, but Dynamight was far stronger than any of them had anticipated. 

‘Pissy extras, you weren’t worth my time’, he’d touted when his good ole buddy Cellophane wrapped em up tight in a nice, neat bow. 

Bakugou might have celebrated this win a bit more with the crowd surrounding him, having caught the villain and was prepared to call it a day alongside Sero, ticking off another win tally in traditional, mega-blasty action… if not for the update coming through on his comms:

"We lost sight of Joyride- crash site at the industrial pylons at 6-5-2 and 6-5-7- Tightrope is-- confirmed; eliminated. Repeat, requesting visual of Joyride-"

Bakugou's soul drops to his gut. 

There was a crash and you were missing. Sero hears the same update and looks to Bakugou gravely- knowing full well who you are to him. Not just a teammate, but more, in every way.

Turning quickly from the gathering of people, Bakugou takes a one-armed leap from the side of the building and blasts off a slight cushion to his fall, then jogs towards the incoming transport with Jeanist's interns calling out for him to report back. He doesn't listen to any word of thanks as he marches to the transport. He's fueled by pure anxiety behind masked eyes, rage bubbling hot in his breath. He listens to his radio, and prays.

"--still no sight of- wait, wait! Joyride spotted! We have visual! Status? She alive? Affirmative, she's coming up over the edge- (laughs) I can't believe it, she chucked that eight-wheeler straight into it!"

Bakugou swallows, throat tight despite the relief.

"Ok Dynamight, off to rende with Joy–?-"

"YOU HEARD ‘EM, MOVE!"

Poor intern shutting right up and driving away, Bakugou shucks off his pauldrons and vambraces against his discipline that he should really keep em on until fully off duty, but with his protective instincts still in overdrive, he knows he's producing more than enough sweat should he be caught by surprise at this point in the aftermath. He's not going to need the extra firepower where he's going.

Screeching to a slowed approach, Bakugou can't wait the extra second to allow the van to come to a complete stop before he's chucking the door open and jumping past the cordoned off emergency vehicles assisting passersby. He shouts only briefly for 'making way', and people listen to the man on a mission. Calls of thanks fall to his deaf ears- by choice, this time.

From around the corner, he turns assessing the damage surrounding the crash site below. He spots Uravity already helping, and is grateful for her expertise while still set on recovering you.

There ahead -his angel in a leather jacket trudging up the off ramp with weary steps- is the sight he thanks every god in the heavens for. 

Bakugou stays his swearing out of sheer gratitude to not see copious amounts of blood draining your face; that sheen on you is just sweat as you’ve chucked your helmet off to breathe better. One look at you and it’s like no other day; you just look understandably tired and in want of a shower more than life. Your expression isn’t pained– just your usual distaste for incline treks by show of your flat, annoyed brows and mouth breathing. That look coming from a top 20 Pro Hero known for her stylish grace is funny- if only under different circumstances.

You look up at the alarmed call. Dynamight is hurtling towards you, and you're just as relieved to see a sight for sore eyes. Seems the shock of what you just did catches up as you find renewed haste in leaving the smokey scene behind you. You pick yourself up into a jog with a delirious smile forcing its way onto your face.

There's a crack in his voice as he shouts your callsign, but he's not ashamed of it; not with the punch of fear ripping the sound from him. He sets off in a run– straight to you.

In a span of a few seconds, Bakugou shoves up his protective face mask, catching your bounding self up into his arms, hugging you tight for two full, shaking breaths before pulling you into a fire-loaded, protective kiss.

Smokelines are smudged across his cheeks and burning tears lay built up at his lash line as he heaves grateful breaths in and out through his nose against your cheek. This kiss is tense, but needed. Without an ounce of regret, he keeps you painfully close. You held no less affection from him, your hands immediately grabbing for purchase on his nape, sweat-licked and all. You gasp for a breath with a laugh before he smashes his mouth across yours with tongue, messy and relieved and angry that something has scared him so bad.

Releasing your lips from his, he bumps his forehead to yours for a solemn few seconds to rein himself in.

He husks, "You good-?"

"Yeah."

"Not hurt?"

"Nah~"

"You swear."

You nod with your eyes still closed, breathing a quick answer before being given another couple hard kisses on your cheek. You're hugged tight again, swayed as he takes a couple traipsing steps with you in his arms. A heart-wrenching, gutteral sigh rasps from him, leaving you reeling as he holds you in sight of who knows how many. The fact that you're not alone in this moment is only a fleeting thought as your residual adrenaline causes you to shake- probably the reason why Bakugou is set on keeping a tight hold on you.

"I'm ok, Katsuki. M'okay-" you answer shakily, barely a whisper. You're convincing yourself under the guise of assuring him. It works, in a way.

"Thank fuck," he answers to your neck.

He’d done his part- you heard so on the coms once you found your dislodged helmet after you made a timed dismount off the bike before it careened you both off the exit ramp. It was then that you reactivated the jostled ‘live’ signal from your helmet and typed back the status code that you were alive. The mic had broken, or else you would have reported so yourself. 

But the fact remains, you haven’t told anyone reporting on the scene what you’ve seen- what you’ve done. You did stop the villain’s crew from taking what they’d stolen, but you’d effectively ended anyone else’s chances of recovering the files with the demolition site you’d essentially forced them into. The valued records didn’t fall in the wrong hands, certainly, and it’s an ultimate grace that no other civilian lives were lost, but you do think about how grim the scene looks at the bottom of the ramp. 

There’s no earthly way anyone could have survived that firefest. For some reason, the gravity of that fight grips you now. You’d almost joined them had you not thought hast enough.

"He's.. he's dead. Tightrope and them, the uh- runner. I hit 'em."

"Good. F’he wasn’t, I was gonna kill him myself."

You chuckle, despite the subject matter. Tired breaths still heave from you, coupled with the gentle relief of Bakugou’s supporting arms around you– bare arms you now notice are cannonless, as they set you fully down on your own.

"Oi, BACK IT UP!"

You realize there's a few reporting drones coming in at your back when Katsuki’s dominant hand lifts off of you to bat one away with a harmless smack on a lens; luckily Bakugou is already ushering you back to the van, keeping you ahead of him with a careful palm to your shoulder. He lets you lead towards shelter and a thorough once-over from the medic team for the shock. More grateful civilians cheer praises on both of you, especially your name since it was evidently shared by many as the saving agent of the day. 

Unlike your chilly counterpart, you did offer a wave and a reassuring, proud grin for those onlookers, but Bakugou knows your true feelings better as you grit through your teeth,

“Oh, yes please, photos. What I’d kill for a bath right now…”

After a ride back to the agency, you start to breathe normally again. On the bus where you’re  strapped up with a bp cuff monitoring your status, your care is complete with your hand in Bakugou's as he stands above you. He hovers even more after you hit the showers, dress down comfortably, and receive one of the highest compliments from your agency lead on your quick actions and limited infrastructure casualties. Finally, true ease in your tummy relaxes as you get a pass on submitting your report while in your current state until morning, and as you are given a lift back to the apartment complex-- of course, with Bakugou in tow.

It's the early morning hours when you are able to go lay down, the smallest change in the sky after the night’s darkest hour giving way to a persistent sun. It does little to threaten your desire to sleep though, with your protective boyfriend playing bodyguard keeping a hand on you at all times then offering to stay 'until you fall asleep'. 

You feel the safest you have in months that morning… 

When he follows your soft ask for him to see you safely upstairs, carries out his nighttime routine alongside yours, he does nothing more forward than wrap his entire body as close to you as possible. He kisses you goodnight with care and softness and just an edge of heat.

"You fucking scared me." Bakugou whispers into the quiet space you've created.

"I thought nothing scares you."

He huffs, but it's a sad, wet sound. "Tch, like hell it doesn't."

You're both quiet for a while after that, just relishing in your joint safety, touching each other to soothe the chills from within, soaking in his light presses to your forehead until he lays a kiss longer than the others–

"I love you so damn much," Bakugou rasps all in one go, "I love you."

 It's the first time he's said it, outright.

You'd thought you'd scream and kick your feet if he ever got around to saying what you already believed to be true. All you want instead is to absolutely melt into his skin and sob.

"HEY-" 

Bakugou called out to you at the start of all this in full, armored glory- nearly every bit of skin covered up in his winter suit while the dead of summer sun bears down. For this crazy mission, he’s been preparing all afternoon, ready to bring his all to the fight ahead. 

One word and you whip around before he yanks you into speaking range. He grounds you with a hand to your shoulder keeping you still- expecting him to say ‘be careful’, maybe even an extra ‘watch for those crackhead speed demons out there’. 

But with his commanding, brash voice on, you weren't sure what he'd say to you- not when he’s looking at you like that. 

"You-- y'better not pull anything stupid now," he stares you down with complete earnest, choosing words carefully because he figured you might be listened to on the team’s headsets.

Yet never one to let things go unsaid, he cupped the side of your neck for the next bit-

"You're it for me. Got that?"

Your azure-blazed helmet hid most of your face, so you smiled with your eyes so he could see that you agreed. You heard him loud and clear, and got his meaning entirely. 

You placed your hand in an 'i love you' sign on his chest before another call over the radio gave directions and pulled you both apart to look for the flare.

"-Got it,” you resolved while only giving him a second before you crafted a biped transitbike in record time with your quirk-  "Go kick some fuckin’ ass!" 

Heart zinging with motivation, you sped away- leaving Bakugou to cackle at your rare cursing and blowing his own way skyward and into his element.

Tipping your head up, you can barely find words with him looking at you like this. It’s the look from this morning all over again: a tight, straight-set scowl dead set on keeping himself from crying, hand sifted itself into your hair like you're going to be ripped from him in an instant, and soft eyes that are begging- a look you never thought you'd see from him.

You don't have it in you to tease him, or even be your trademark soft and demure to contrast his hard and offensive shell. No, you feel like doting on him when he's like this, because you know you’re the only one who sees him this way. This vulnerable, laid beside you with a weighted blanket on him to soothe his anxiety, too.  

So you promise your whole existence to him instead: a genuine word without fear of an audience.

"I love you, too. You’re it for me."

You sink in and out of sleep while he holds you like this. Though gratefully, he's out like a light after the last few kisses he laid on your head when you said it back-- like his spirit could finally rest knowing you believed the same.

You keep waking up in the night unsettled by some restless instincts left over from the night before. 

After twisting again and turning your neck to bleakly look at the light coming in, you heard his drowsy inhale bring out a grumbly moan,

"Go t'sleep."

'It's bright,' you say through your exhaustion, but it's evident that you're far too awake by your tone.

At this, you heave in surprise as Bakugou completely flips you onto the other side of him, tilting you with a palm until you turn the other way (towards the bathroom) and lie completely in his shadow. You check his face to see if he's upset at your waking him, but his eyes remain shut by sleep and are solely focused on blindly making sure you're completely locked in and comfortable in his arms, still.

It's thoughtful and strikes you sweetly, tucked back in his embrace again. You feel completely secure with his warmth flooding you at your back.

"Thanks."

Again, he simply whispers,

"mmm sleep f'me, 'ngel... I've gotcha."

A phone buzzes just minutes later, his. It's Kirishima- and like moth and flame they are for each other, Bakugou answers, tipping only onto his back so he’s barely moving from you. You still sleep through lightly and you hear him talking, but not each and every word fully.

Bakugou swiped up to answer the call, but didn’t deign a chipper welcome necessary.

"......hey uhhh Bakugou?"

"hmwhat."

"Are you still sleeping?"

"Yes."

"It's after 2pm, man! Thought you were dead to the world~"

"I am. Whaddya need."

"Well, just wanted to check on you man. I saw the fight last night, and I've tried calling Little Miss, too but she's not answerin’."

"Had the same night. She's 'sleep too."

"Eh, I shoulda figured. Looked like it took it out of you."

"Tch, wasn’t that hard."

Kirishima played into his mischievous lilt on his end of the line, 

"mmmm sure bout that? That uh, kiss, didn't look like ‘nothing’."

...Kirishima wasn't there. How would he have known you kissed?...

Bakugou wakes a little more. "Huh."

Kirishima burrs the speaker a little on the other line. Must be from him laughing through his nose knowing Bakugou's severe dislike for that sort of attention.

"I mean, I get it. I'd probably be the same after watching my girl go down like that, but-- hate to break it to ya, but it's everywhere, Kats."

"-Whaddya mean."

Notifications have flooded his phone when he cracks open an eye to really look at it, but he opens the most recent from Kirishima, texted by the redhead’s insistence for Bakugou to take a look.

There are stills of said clip of him running up to you and kissing you– one particular shot looks gorgeously cinematic because someone with a photo-optic quirk had clearly followed him, probably from that drone he almost broke. Screenshots Kirishima has collected (proof of ‘true manliness’, he claims) all bear headlines of how this was the most unexpected hero pairing of the season: how "Joynamight" is stealing the hearts of swooning civilians everywhere- and likely the shutdown of the entire hero rumor mill surrounding the explosive hero standing at No. 5. The dating scene has allegedly erupted into chaos over the news.

Bakugou stared at the photo of him holding you. One camera turned more at his shoulders by the way he'd stepped, so in this photo, he could see you more clearly- holding on as just about any loved one would hug their better half, but so beautifully content and safe in your face- if a little emotional yourself.

A blank hum is all Bakugou offered. Soft. Seemingly disinterested if it wasn't for the proud smirk.

Kirishima snickered on the other end of the line. "You sucker."

"Yeah, yeah."

"...dytell er yet?"

"Not there... But.. couldn't not, yknow."

"aaand?"

"... Dont scream about it, mtired."

Kiri audibly gasped, then at least honored Bakugou's request for distance from the phone, whooping and hollering off speakerphone, uplifted at the news. His carrying on made even a sleep-laden Bakugou happy, even if he lay there rolling his eyes for his friend to be done.

You finally stirred beside him, turning over with a stretch and seeking him out. He quickly received you, kissing your forehead again, then tipping back to the phone. "I'll call you back later, Eij."

"--Huh? Dude I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, WHAT HA-"

"Mmm who's that," you moaned.

Bakugou rubbed your back to rouse you the rest of the way. "Your big red dog."

You chortled at Kirishima's new moniker. "Whas’hewant."

Bakugou debated letting you stay in your bubble, but figured ripping the bandaid might be best. 

"Just called to give us a head's up."

You looked up to him, "About what?"

Bakugou only smirked, tilting his phone to you. To focus on the light, you woke up fully, eyes widening to just how bad they did -indeed- immortalize your private moment on the scene.Those grimey, windswept headshots you’d feared at the medtend were the least of your photogenic worries now.

But-- like his own reaction-- you couldn't keep from smiling.

"Ohhhh~" you sighed, then deeper, "Ohhhhh we are in deep shit."

Bakugou snuggled in– smug as all getout, "Yeah, we are."

"Wait, lemme see-- oh my God, Kats... Oh Katsuki, this-.."

"Yeah yeah, give it back-"

"Nooo I need that one! Send it to me!"

"It's likely blown yours up too, dummy! Get your own!"

Memory of your reentry home failed you, so you had to ask him where your phone ended up because you didn't have a clue. He’d put it on the charger for you, of course. Then, sitting side by side, you both were reviewing the more urgent notes from your respective social media managers with deep, secretive chuckles. 

These photos were a romantic’s dream, but a PR jumpscare. Had to be addressed in some way or it would never end, truly.

"What’d yours say?"

You fixed your wonky part with a little fluff to your hair, settling your initial overwhelm of nerves: " ‘Go on something lowkey- Present Mic’s show or a podcast off the mainstream, say ‘friendship is magic’, maybe tease it if I want to, and move on.’ I dunno- that seems like a lot of public speaking and scheduling out the wazoo. You?"

"She's just yapping. Didn't read it all." Bakugou barely cared about his social media presence since his manager did most of the publishing, save for Bakugou sharing some highlights of his select, predictable group of hero team ups. Besides that, he just focused on paying them well enough to cover his bullshit if he ever let his temper flare. Besides, now he was waiting on what you'd say, "So what're you gonna do?"

You debated, smirking like a devil the whole time as you realized what could be the fastest way to get your take out in the open, 

"... I wanna share the photographer's post. Not this J’akku Press spread."

This earned a smirk for you, "Yeah?"

"...yeah?" you returned a shy look- wondering if you were crazy.

"I will, if you will."

Bakugou’s soft, sleepy loyalty is one you fear will disappear after you both get started with your day. When Dynamight reports back in, you can only hope that he’d still feel the same way today as he did yesterday- though you imagine managing the tabloid fodder a post like this can make will be less than pleasant for him. He’s so private most of the time, and when he’s not digitally absent, he’s loud. This hesitation must have shown on your face– because he takes your hand for a second and kisses it to stop your spiral.

"I meant what I said. You’re it- you’re mine. Whether we tell the world or not. Up to you."

You bite your lip again, and doubled down. You shift to snuggle with your back cradled on his chest, building the shared post:

"Aftermath: Joyride emerges from crash scene unscathed, reunited with Dynamight in a rare tender moment for today's top tier heroes." Joyride_fm: see edit: Lucky, lucky girl. Sorry for scaring you, m'love❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 #rideordie

Bakugou snickers, kissing your shoulder closest to him. "Do it, I'll repost that one."

He, however, did not let you read as he added his response thread, making you wonder what kind of a novel he was going to be sharing because of how long he was taking... 

Instead, you just curled into his side and peppered him in a few distracting kisses on his chest. He’d come bolting to you last night, a core memory you’d be fantasizing about for a long time. Just watching the way his chest is rising and falling here in bed so calmly when you know just hours ago it was heaving like you’d been lost at sea, you are so gone on him. When he nudged his shoulder for you to check his draft, you damn near cried:

"Aftermath: Joyride emerges from crash scene unscathed, reunited with Dynamight in a rare tender moment for today's top tier heroes." THE_Dynamight_SoV: Hero work is not for the weak. We train, we fight, and we do everything we can to make our world a safer one, to whatever end. This woman is one of many selfless, ball-busting, indomitable heroes that I'm not only proud to do this work with, but one I can't see myself living without. You're looking at the face of a man who's holding his priorities right there in 4k. So yeah. If you see one of us like this after a battle, know it's because heroes get scared too– for good fucking reason. Better not make this a habit, dummy. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 #rideandDONTdie

"Oh my God~~" your tears and misty sniffles had you caving into his shoulder, "my tweet was so STUPID!!"

Katsuki bragged with proud cackles as you cried it out, sending the post out for the Internet to bawl over before you could dare edit your post, and turned his phone right back to silent.

You got snotty and overly emotional at how sweet he was with his statement, but were comforted by his hands smoothing over you until you calmed.

"Love you,” you settled into the peace he held you in.

"Love you, dummy."

When you got up for the afternoon run back to the office to finish your reports with fresh eyes, you entered the building as normal. There’s no hint in how either of you carry yourselves that say you all just spend the last twelve hours like koalas draped over each other. The only sign of such affections was your use of an Allmight tervis you're nursing your coffee with –clearly his– which your good ole partner in electric crime, Chargebolt, clocked from the end of the hallway:

"JOYNAMIGHT 2024!!!!"

"SHUDDUP, POWER OUTTAGE!!!"

[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Four)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, language, anxiety, stalking, some slight fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: fun fact—this was supposed to be five parts, its gonna be a bit long because this has taken a life of its own 😅💚

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Oh—” You whispered, stepping forward closer to the shrine. Incense was burning in front of a picture of a beautiful woman with black hair. A small mochi and vase with wildflowers sat beside her photo. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

”Thank you—”

Toji exhaled through his nose, ruffling the top of Megumi’s head as you approached the shrine, kneeling before it, closing your eyes as you bowed your head. Seeing you move so fast, dropping before his late wife's shrine, left Toji feeling both appreciative and sick to his stomach at the same time. Maybe part of It was because he still missed his sweet wife, or perhaps it was because he’s been so wrong about you.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Mrs. Fushiguro.”

The sincerity behind your words felt like a knife in his stomach. Yeah, he had definitely misjudged you. He wished he could take back what he had told you earlier this night. But time didn't work like that. Toji assumed you were a spoiled rotten brat and blatantly said that to your face. There was no taking back those shitty assumptions.

But what he could do was make up for what he had said.

“She would have loved to have you. Wouldn't she squirt?” He asked, ruffling Megumi’s hair.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching Megumi grip his father's pants, nodding his head. A slight flush dusted his cheeks as you smiled sympathetically at him. It must have been hard losing his mother at such a young age; you couldn't even imagine what that must have been like. But Toji, you were in actual awe of him.

Not only did he work for a well-renowned security company, but he was also a single father. Balancing work, raising a child, and caring for a house must be hard as hell. A sudden respect for the mountain of the man blossomed in your chest as he stared at his son, lovingly stroking his hair back.

”I should probably get him to bed, then we can get you settled in, okay?”

You nodded in agreement, watching as he placed his hand on Megumi’s head, turning him to head down a hall. “Goodnight, Miss.” The little tyke said, waving at you, which had your heart squeezing in your chest as you waved back.

When they disappeared into a room, you pushed yourself off the ground, looking around the living; despite being a bit dusty, it was surprisingly well organized. You admired the different photos on bookcases, from Toji and Megumi to pictures of his late wife. As you looked at each photo, you grounded yourself, swallowing at a sadness lumping in your throat. In each photo of his wife, Megumi was a baby. There were no photos of her with him as a toddler or a child, meaning she probably passed before she could watch him grow. That sadness tugged at your heart, making breathing almost hard as you felt nothing but empathy for the family who’d so selflessly taken you in.

“She’s staying for a while?” Megumi asked softly as Toji lifted the sheets for him.

“Yep, you good with that kiddo? If you're not, I could call Shiu.”

“I don't mind—” Toji cocked a dark brow watching Megumi grab his white wolf plushie hugging it. “She’s pretty.”

Those words nearly sent Toji reeling back as he gawked at his son. “Pretty?” Megumi nodded, pursing his lips together as he shot his father a quick, curious glance. Thanks to Toji’s profession, he was a professional at reading people, and that talent extended to his son. “Yeah, she is. But Megumi, this is strictly professional, you know that, right?” When his son just stared at him, he signed. “There’s nothing between us, and I assure you there won't be.” The dismissive tone of Toji’s words left Megumi blinking.

“Why?”

“Because it’s unprofessional. It's my job to protect her.”

He pulled the sheets up to Megumi’s chin, tucking him in. “You know you don't have to worry about me.” Megumi rubbed his face into the plushie fur. “I wouldn't mind you seeing her.” Toji rolled his eyes, pushing Megumi’s bangs off his forehead and pressing a kiss there.

“She’s a client, kid.”

“So?”

How was it possible for a kid to be this intrusive? “Okay, that’s enough questions, go to sleep.” The floorboards creaked under Toji’s weight as he headed for the hall. “Night Megumi.”

“Night, Dad.”

Shutting the door to his son’s room, Toji was left alone in the hall's silence with his thoughts. He knew there would be a day when Megumi would ask him about his dating life. He was sure how he would react, whether he didn't like the idea or was indifferent. But this was a reaction he hadn't been expecting. For Megumi to basically give Toji his blessing to date you was literally unfathomable. And he had said it with such a straight face!

Megumi didn't know you; he'd barely met you, hardly said less than twenty words to you, and was giving His father permission. Your presence had that much of an impact on him? The same woman he had deemed a spoiled brat had won his son over merely by smiling and being kind.

He'd have to make sure Megumi knew you weren't staying forever. This arrangement was a temporary deal. One designed to keep you safe and out of harm's way.

As he headed into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking of how he could word it, he saw you standing in front of the bookcases, staring at the photos that lined the shelves. He'd been expecting to see an unreadable, almost bored face as you waited for him. What he was met with had him frozen in his spot.

Tears, literal tears welled in your eyes. You were crying while looking at pictures of his wife. The woman who’s impacted him in so many ways. Who had blessed him with a son who was so much like her? The same woman he had mourned for the last five years. Seeing you like that only made Toji regret his earlier words even more. With a sigh, Toji cleared his throat as he entered the living room, stomping his feet a little too loud to give you time to wipe the stray tears off your face.

“Sorry about the wait.”

“Oh, you’re fine; I’m the one imposing on your family.”

Toji wanted to argue and tell you to shut up, but he let it go. You weren’t a burden. He was happy to help you because it was the right thing to do.

So, instead of yelling or starting another argument, Toji stepped forward, ruffling the top of your head. “Come on, I’ll give ya’ a tour.” The apartment was lovely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a balcony overlooking the city. It was a pleasant, quiet home perfect for the two of them. It was also the place that you would call home for an indefinite future. “It’s a little cramped, but it’s still home.”

You both made your way back out to the living room. Where you were fiddling with your thumbs and anxiously looking around. Toji was watching you closely as he had been doing the entire night. You have been through so much in the last few hours he didn’t wanna push you further than you had been so far. Right now, the best thing he could do was get in bed and sleep this terrible night off.

He cleared his throat around the living room before moving the cushions off the couch. Upon seeing him moving, you jumped to help him take the cushions from him and place them off to the side—something his previous clients wouldn’t be caught dead. Then again, you weren’t like his other clients. The more time he spent with you, the more evident that became.

“You realize you don’t have to help me do this right.”

“What kind of house would I be if I didn’t help?”

Toji shook his head as he moved the coffee table to the side. “Ya’ know, I think you’re the only houseguest that has ever done this with me.” you shook your head this time, giving him an almost smug smile.

“Well, I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

You laughed, and God, it was sweet and light as air. A sound that ceased all of Toji’s movements as he looked up at you. After everything you had gone through tonight, you were still able to laugh and smile. And it wasn’t that fake laugh for the smile he watched you put on when you were at the stadium. You'd been through hell and back this evening, but you were grinning despite everything that you had gone through. Knowing that someone had gotten into your home, you were staying in a stranger's house, yet you were laughing a carefree giggle. For you to still be able to smile like everything was fine when he knew it took resilience and guts.

You hummed, rubbing at the back of your neck. Unaware of the watchful gaze that Toji was shooting in your direction. “I bet you have a lot of interesting stories to tell.” Your words pull him out of the stupor he found himself in while staring at your delicate features and pretty face.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah, I do have a lot of stories I could tell. But let’s put a pin in that; you had a long day. You need to get some rest.” Toji stretched his arms above his head before stretching the arms across his chest. “If you give me a few minutes, I can change the sheets on my bed, and you can shower.”

“Your bed?”

Toji blinked, looking away before looking back and meeting your confused gaze. “Yeah, I’m taking the couch; you can stay in my bed.” From the way you crossed your arms and fed your brows, Toji knew you didn’t approve of this idea.

“I’m not the type to kick you out of your bed because I’m staying with you. I am perfectly capable of sleeping on a pull-out bed.”

“No one said you weren’t, Doll Face.” The mere annoyance etched into his voice didn't faze you in the slightest. “Anyways, I'm sleeping here. So I'm going to go change my sheets, get you a towel, and then you can rest.”

“Just grab me a towel; I really don't mind sleeping out here.”

A vein in Toji’s forehead throbbed as he slowly turned to glare down at you, putting on the fakest smile he could muster. “You’re a brat, you know that? I'm trying to be nice and offer you my bed so you can get a good night’s sleep.” Navy eyes watched as you shrugged, fucking shrugged at his words.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I would prefer you to be on your A-Game tomorrow. You are my bodyguard, after all. If anyone should get a good night's sleep, it should be you.”

With pure satisfaction, you watched Toji open his mouth to argue before slowly closing it. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as your tall; muscular bodyguard couldn't bring himself to argue or disagree with you. Seeing that expression on your face, Toji’s eyes were twitching; maybe you were a brat.

“Ooh, you sure Miss Pop-Princess won’t mind sleeping on the couch? I wouldn't want it ruining your back~”

Instead of snapping or giving him attitude, Toji watched as you slowly tilted your head to the side. “You do realize I have slept on my fair share of couches before I was famous and after the fact.” Toji blinked, watching you run your hands over the mattress. “When I was staying with my friends, I slept on their sofa, and they didn't even have a pull-out mattress, so this is a step up.” Damn, you were just—normal.

“Fuck, you aren't like other clients I've had in the past.”

“Is that a good thing?”

You watched as Toji’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Eh, I don't know yet.” You glared at him, but your glare was cut short as he threw a pillow at your face. “Relax, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. You're just different. But sometimes different is good.”

Sometimes different was good?

Toji’s words had you tossing and turning on the pull-out bed. You sighed, staring at the ceiling as you tossed and turned, and his words echoed in your mind. After everything that had happened to you in the last few hours, you weren't sure if you agreed with him.

In fact, ever since you had gone viral, things have been incredibly different for you. And you weren't sure if it was a good thing. Your fame had its perks, of course. You made good money, more than enough to give back to the community and help those who couldn't help themselves. But, the downsides were turning out to be—worse than you ever imagined.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high; you had a stalker who had been watching you for god knows how long, and you were staying with your bodyguard, whom you knew practically nothing about. Well, that last part wasn't as bad as the other two drastic changes you were experiencing. Did that fact make it any less nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing? No, it didn't.

Those thoughts plagued your mind all night; from the time Toji left you to shower until then, the blue velvet sky outside began turning a light shade of orange with the promise of morning. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep. You had come to terms with that fact before you even stepped foot into Toji's apartment building. The anxiety had dug its claws into you. Its talons seep into your skin like a poison meant to keep you up for all night hours.

Hopefully, this won't be a permanent change in your life.

The orange hue shifted to a lilac shade with pink clouds. At that point, you had given up on sleeping altogether, opting to sit on the fold-out bed and stare at the different shapes forming in the clouds. Just as you watched a rabbit shift into an elephant, a soft creaking sound pulled your attention away from the window.

Megumi wandered out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he looked around. Navy blue eyes met yours, and he stared at you for a second before continuing his way into the living room. He was silent as he plopped down on the end of the mattress, looking at the black screen of the television.

“You wanna watch television?” You questioned in a soft, almost motherly tone.

“No, I’m okay.” His timid voice melted your heart, but you could tell from how he stole glances at you that he had something to say.

“You sure about that.”

Another silence spread before he turned to look over his shoulder at you. “Yeah.” Little fingers picked at the thick blanket Toji had given you. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you for asking. How about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a piece of lint to the blanket. “I slept okay.” Nodding your head, you sighed, looking out at the sky.

“Well, from the sounds of it, we both didn't sleep very well, and there's only one cure for a rough night.”

Your words had Megumi’s head snapping in your direction, curiosity gleaming in his big doe-eyed. “There’s a cure?” With a wide bobcat grin, you picked the blankets off yourself.

“Yes, and thankfully, I know the only cure out there. Wanna help me?” Megumi took your hand without hesitation, giving it a squeeze as you both headed beaded into the kitchen. “I can assure you that this cure will be the tastiest cure of them all.”

The smell of bacon pulled Toji out of dreamland. He groaned, running his hands down his face, and sat up, glancing at the clock. It was seven thirty, and Megumi was already up and about, staring at his day, much like his mother used to do. This would come in handy in the future, but for a six-year-old to be up cooking seemed unlikely, so it had to be you. At least Toji hoped it was you.

As tempting as it was to stay in bed and fall back asleep, the soft clattering from the kitchen urged Toji to investigate. Slipping on his grey sweats with a sigh, Toji headed out to the kitchen, where he found his son eating breakfast on one of the barstools. He was seconds away from scolding his son to wake him up the next time he was hungry when he heard the soft singing resonating from the stove.

There he saw you. You were swaying your hips to music softly playing on your phone. You were completely oblivious to him watching you as you flipped a pancake over in the frying pan you used. Normally, he'd be slightly irritated if someone he didn't know was using his kitchen and groceries without asking.

But you looked so pretty, mindlessly singing as you cooked breakfast. Not only his son, but for him too from the second plate sitting off to the side, and the third you were plating must be for you. It had been so long since Toji’s kitchen was filled with warmth, singing, and life. It was so strange, different.

But then again, different was sometimes good.

It was so good that Toji crept over to stand behind you, watching you flip the pancake to cook it perfectly. You still were unaware of his presence, which was slightly concerning, seeing that you were being stalked by a crazed maniac right now. That was something you both would have to work on in the future. For now, Toji was going to have a bit of fun.

He leaned as close as he could to your ear before chuckling. “I didn't know the Pop-Princess could cook.” When it came to startling you, Toji had expected a few things to happen. You’d likely react with a fight-or-flight. He imagined you trying to take a swing at him, which he could easily avoid. It made sense; you'd be on high alert, ready to fight for your life if needed.

Instead, a warm pancake smacked him in the face. He just stood there as the pancake slowly slid down his face, revealing your startled face and staring up at him in fear. Out of everything you could have used to your advantage, you threw a pancake at him. A flat, soft, warm breakfast treat had been the only line of defense you'd choose to use—when you were holding a frying pan. As the pancake fell to the floor with a soft thump, you and Toju stared into each other's eyes.

Toji had his work cut out for him.

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[dolliethv]

One Of The Girls.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! Hiii, this is a pretty TO long story, I wanted to write something with a lot of sexual tension and a lot of smut, read it calmly and I hope you enjoy it xoxo!!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 6k

You weren't sure if attending Jude's party was a good idea, but something inside you—maybe the excitement of Halloween and the thought of celebrating with your group of friends, or perhaps the hope of seeing him—convinced you. Jude's huge, new house in Madrid, decorated with lit pumpkins and fake cobwebs, gleamed in the distance, full of people already enjoying the night.

You stepped inside, and strobe lights danced on the walls, while laughter and music filled the air. You grabbed a drink as you passed by the improvised bar, trying to relax. You hadn’t taken more than two steps when you felt that familiar gaze tracing your body. You slowly turned, and there he was, Jude, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed solely on you.

You wished the ground would swallow you because your damn group of friends was headed straight toward Jude Bellingham’s group. Of course, they all knew each other.

After your friends had chatted enough with the other group, you decided to take the lead.

"Couldn’t you put a little more effort into your costume?" That was the first thing you asked when you finally looked him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Curious about what he was actually dressed as?

Seriously? A simple cop uniform? You could bet your life on the fact that men have zero originality—they always go for the easy option. Lord, give me patience.

You absolutely hated basic Halloween costumes. Anything that took less than ten minutes and minimal effort didn’t deserve attention. It might seem a bit over the top, but given the number of creative ideas this particular holiday offered, you just couldn’t stand it.

Not when you even designed and made your own costume for the occasion.

But it was funny how quickly Jude changed your mind.

Basic is good. Basic is great. Damn it.

"What’s your costume supposed to be, anyway?" Jude continued, his voice calm but his body still a bit tense.

"It’s Suki from Fast and Furious!" Drew, one of Jude’s friends, shouted loud enough that the music barely muffled it.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant staring, but truthfully, neither of you cared. You turned and headed off with your friends to who knows where.

You knew you looked good. You’d worked particularly hard on your outfit for tonight, so you had no reason to hide. Everything was perfectly planned, from head to toe.

Minutes passed, and you tried to convince yourself there was no reason to panic, but there were a lot of people, and your outfit was a bit too revealing. So, when you felt hands around your waist, you were ready to scream for whoever it was to back off.

"It's me."

Oh my God, you almost had a heart attack.

Jude pulled you against him, your back pressed to his chest, his left hand settling on your hip while his right extended around your shoulder to not-so-gently push people aside. The tall, dark-haired boy didn’t take long to start moving you both, making space with his prominent frame when people were too slow to get out of the way, shoving them until he cleared a path for both of you.

Stupid party, stupid Jude Bellingham. It was his fault you ended up there anyway. Jude may not have seen your face, but he definitely felt how tense you were in his arms.

"Why the bad attitude?"

Bad attitude? You didn’t know much about attitudes, but all your limited knowledge vanished when he pulled you even closer.

You cleared your throat briefly, your words followed by a slight shake of your head.

"Am I the one with the bad attitude?" you replied.

Because truthfully, you’d been on your best behavior since you got to that house. Or at least trying.

Jude loved driving you crazy; he thought you looked damn adorable acting tough at barely 5'1".

"By the way, you look amazing."

It was a great move, saying something so flattering to ease the tension.

"Thanks," you murmured, not caring whether he heard, your eyes glued to the back of the guy Jude was elbowing out of the way.

Two stomped-on feet and a "Are you gonna move or what the hell are you waiting for?" later, you were finally out of the chaos.

Well, as far out of danger as you could be at a party and in a house full of mostly strangers.

However, Jude didn’t stop there. He guided you to what you vaguely recognized as the first hallway on the right, his hands never leaving your body. It wasn’t unpleasant for you, not at all, but you both drew more than a few curious stares. It didn’t bother you much now that your closest friends knew. Other people’s opinions of you were never the most positive anyway, but you were surprised at how little Jude seemed to care, considering it was his house.

When you finally stopped, you found yourselves where you’d suspected a few moments earlier, slightly sheltered from the loud music. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away not to intrude on your conversation.

Jude released you a few seconds before turning you around and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close as he leaned against the wall.

"I like your hairstyle; it’s cute," he said, grabbing a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Scratch that. Actually, I love how sexy you look with your hair down."

You were starting to seriously regret the day you told Jude you wouldn’t mind being complimented daily because it was getting out of hand.

How were you supposed to function properly when Jude kept looking at you with dark eyes?

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the side of his face to avoid dealing with the intensity of his stare. You needed to say something and had to do it now.

"People were staring at us."

Of course, your voice trembled, and of course, out of all the things you could’ve said, you picked the one with the most potential to ruin the moment.

Jude was being very open tonight, and while you didn’t dislike it, it was new and somehow made him even more intimidating. All you could focus on was trying to stay afloat, despite involuntarily melting into the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his voice.

"When you look like that, baby, of course, people are going to stare."

You were getting nervous so quickly that it was unreasonable. Your breathing was already picking up, and butterflies were fluttering, one by one, to the point that you could no longer distinguish between those in your heart and those in your stomach.

This was exactly why you shouldn’t stay away from Jude for too long.

"News travels fast, Bellingham. Especially when you’re the footballer of the moment."

But with Jude, you didn’t have to worry. Jude could take care of both of you, and maybe you shouldn’t trust him, but God, it felt so good to be protected.

You desperately wanted to kiss him. Every brush of his thumb against your skin was electrifying. You needed to be closer, needed more, and this time, it had nothing to do with lust.

It was the kind of need you hadn’t felt before, the kind that demanded an exchange of feelings, even if not through words. Even if you tore off your clothes and pressed skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, it wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to be inside Jude’s mind, to share all his thoughts, to experience the unknown, to finally understand each other, but you were too scared.

You couldn’t get there just yet.

"Your costume is stupid," you finally said, your voice coming out a bit more determined.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh that disappeared just as fast, but it was definitely something worth remembering.

"You’re so good at flirting," he purred sarcastically. "Tell me more."

You thought you might be able to keep a straight face, but as soon as you saw him smile, you followed. There was something so addictive about it, maybe the fact that you didn’t see it often, but it definitely made Jude ten times more attractive.

And he was already too attractive to begin with. God.

"It really is stupid," you confirmed your own thoughts, your fingers trailing up to fix the collar of Jude’s cop uniform. "But you look so sexy. I don’t know why I’m so into this kind of stuff."

You knew you weren’t the only one. It’s not for nothing that women love men in uniform.

"You don’t like the uniforms; you like the authority behind them. Or should I say, you’re afraid of it?"

Even though you had the same smile, Jude looked completely different, but he was right. You always felt uneasy around any kind of authority figure.

Watching Jude—with the quite noticeable height and body size difference compared to you, with the sleeves of his uniform stretching around his biceps every time he moved—you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a bit nervous.

And to top it all off, a pair of very real-looking handcuffs hung from his belt.

So yeah, you gave up your principles about liking the basic for one night, but Jude had chosen a really good costume to spark your imagination.

"Honestly..." Jude grabbed your chin and pulled you even closer, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I wouldn’t mind being a cop if it meant I could make pretty things like you tremble."

As if he needed to be a cop to do that. Idiot.

As if you didn’t already find him intimidating enough without the costume. As if your knees didn’t buckle and your body didn’t heat up every time Jude looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds.

"I think that’d be an abuse of power."

Very socially aware of you, but it might be more believable if you stopped looking at him like you wanted him to take advantage of you. You know it's wrong to think that.

Jude hummed, sliding his thumb over your lower lip before pressing it and pulling it down. The movement was so sudden it made you hiss. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were for Jude to do whatever he wanted, to play with your body however he pleased, without questioning the reason.

"It isn’t if you enjoy it."

Their heads tilted to opposite sides, moving closer with lips tingling from the desire to kiss. You could feel Jude exhale before gently pressing his body against yours and brushing his mouth against yours when—

"Bellingham!"

Both grimaced, and you quickly jumped back, your hands starting to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes. You didn’t turn around or look at Jude; you didn’t want to know if someone had really seen you and didn’t want to deal with it.

Jude’s friends weren’t the type of people he enjoyed talking to, so it would be weird to find yourself in a situation where you had to pretend to be a bit interested in what they had to say.

"Oh, hey," Jude responded with much less enthusiasm as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Good party, man."

You recognized the characteristically deep voice and immediately tried to move a little further from the sound. You opted to take the empty space next to Jude, and to avoid seeming rude, you looked up, meeting Trent Alexander’s eyes before giving a small nod in his direction. The man nodded back with a shy smile resting on your lips.

"Hey y/n, you look great!!" He said.

"Thanks."

You knew him, or at least you knew who Alexander was. In your defense, you knew all the people in your circle of unfortunately extroverted friends. You knew he was a guy with too much money, another footballer, not surprisingly—very attractive—and also much kinder than many other rich and attractive people.

However, you started to feel anxious.

Alexander didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, even after greeting you. But then the guy lowered his gaze, not going below the level of your skirt, but enough to make you wonder— is this guy checking me out?—God, men are all so bold.

Suddenly, Bellingham cleared his throat, subtly but enough to move you a little out of Trent’s view.

Oh, okay.

"Sorry to bother you, but my friend here won’t stop saying she wants to meet the great Jude Bellingham."

Unaware of the presence of someone else before, you moved your gaze to Trent, where a model-like tall girl was giving all her attention to Jude.

You were annoyed by how attractive she was. You couldn’t imagine how she looked in Jude’s eyes. You weren’t a fan of the cliché thought of hating other women over men, but damn, this feeling was hard to handle.

"Can you blame me? He looks even better than I imagined," she said loudly.

Then you looked at how that girl was dressed.

She was obviously someone very bold, and you were all for female empowerment, but if she came any closer to Jude, you’d have to break her neck.

If Jude hadn’t noticed her before, he definitely was now, shamelessly scanning her figure until stopping on her chest a bit longer than necessary. When he looked back at her face, he gave her a playful smile.

"She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. My kind of girl."

Sorry, what? His type of what? Is he really giving me a hint?

A fake and shy smile spread across the unknown girl’s face as she tilted her head slightly and flipped her hair back, exposing more of her neck and collarbones.

"Oh, yeah?" She asked, her voice interrupted by laughter. "What else is your type?"

Me?

The girl started tracing circles with her index finger over the lower part of her collarbone before dragging it down, outlining the beginning of her breasts. They were quite exposed; it was hard not to notice them, but there was no worse way Jude could handle it than staring at them, his expression not hiding what he was thinking.

Bellingham took a step towards her, immediately placing his right hand on her hip without gripping it, just touching a bit, while moving to whisper something in her ear.

There was absolutely no damn way Jude was doing this in front of you, there must be some kind of reality error. No fucking way, you were really holding yourself back from pulling him away from her and giving him a beating.

Once the brunette straightened up, they were both smiling, and you couldn’t hear it, but you read it from the girl’s lips.

"I got lucky tonight."

Well, you had never considered yourself a crazy person, or at least not one who acted out of her mind with no regard for social norms.

Nevertheless, at that moment, you could barely stand.

You had no doubt about it anymore; it was too strong not to recognize, too powerful to ignore. You were jealous, so jealous that all you could think about was violence and all you could see was red.

"I’m leaving," Alexander suddenly said, visibly uncomfortable with the looks being exchanged.

You didn’t even have time to thank him mentally before the girl grabbed his arm as if her life depended on it, sweetly smiling at Jungkook and saying:

"I’ll be waiting."

And with that, they left.

The crowd made them disappear in less than a minute, leaving no trace. All you could focus on now was the unshakable smile on Jude’s face.

You despised him.

None of this was part of the plan.

Jude’s plan was to keep you without sex for a while, make you show how much you missed him, make you feel so needy that you’d give in to anything in seconds. Bellingham thought nothing could compare to the feeling he’d have once he saw your desperation, the ease with which he’d let you go, giving him the upper hand in the situation.

He was wrong.

Something better than a proud version of you was a version willing to admit, to admit that you were jealous, and he made you realize it after this little outburst.

"Where were we?" He asked as if nothing had happened, his attention slowly returning to you, clearly displeased at his side.

-I might have overstepped a bit- you thought. Relax.

Since Jude did everything he could to avoid giving you more than a glance while talking to that girl, wanting to make it as real as possible, he was enjoying watching your reaction.

You stared defiantly at the wall opposite them, obviously trying to transfer all your anger to her instead of Jude.

Seeing you cute probably wasn’t what you was looking for, but Jude found it absolutely adorable.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" He gently brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice laced with false concern.

"No."

It wasn’t a very convincing lie with your teeth clenched and a blank expression on your face.

"Mm, I think it is."

"Good for you."

Jude had to stifle a satisfied smile. The way you responded with the first thing that came to your mind showed you weren’t thinking much before speaking.

"Not in the mood for a conversation anymore?"

You closed your eyes.

But you couldn’t do that, not when it was exactly what you wanted to do. He couldn’t be the first to break, admit his lust, show that he wanted to be with you so much that he’d trample his pride.

Not again.

“You know, I never took you for a jerk who got jealous so easily.”

If it were physically possible, your jaw would be hitting the floor. The air caught in your throat and your lips hung oddly open as you looked at Jude and found the lack of concern on his features.

Being honest was the easiest way to get through to him.

“How dare you?” You asked offended, pushing Jude away as hard as you could.

His balance seemed to falter as you failed to move him an inch, but he did successfully sway on his two feet, before Jude grabbed your wrists.

“How dare I what?” He asked you with an amused smirk. “Does she make you jealous? I was just having a conversation, babe.”

“No, not that.” You finished your statement with an irritated groan, violently breaking free from his hold. “You’re an idiot. Go have a conversation then.”

“Should I?”

The look you gave him only said one thing. “I fucking dare you.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You didn’t look at her face even once.”

Well, if it wasn’t obvious, you screwed up. The chances of her living without Bellingham mentioning what you wanted him to not notice were now basically non-existent.

“She didn’t put that on so I would look at her face.”

You had never looked so angry, your head shaking in disbelief and fists clenched on either side of your body. You looked like you were really struggling not to slap him and Jude couldn’t blame you. That was the point, after all.

“Oh, wow.”

He was already on his way to calming her down, his hands reaching for your waist, when you raised his in defense.

“Don’t touch me.”

You even pointed with your index finger in warning, wagging it when Jude didn’t stop.

“I’m not joking, I’ll slap you, don’t touch me- mhppm-”

With one hand around your waist and the other pressing against your jaw, Jude had you backed up against the wall in no time. Despite your earlier threats and your bad mood, you surrendered into his arms quickly, melting into the touch, your soft moans being muffled by Jude’s mouth. The longer it went on, the more eager you became, tugging at his uniform, trying to pull him closer despite your bodies already being together.

When he pulled away, you were a mess. It was being a fight for him to refuse your touch.

“We can go to my room…”

He whispered against you, before moving lower.

“Talk…”

He pressed a kiss against your chin

“I’ll make you laugh…”

And then one on the side of your jaw

“I can make you cum…”

You shuddered at the proposal.

You both knew he wanted it, that was not in doubt. The question was how far he would go to get it.

“You will have my full attention.” With sarcasm.

Another kiss, just below your ear.

“All you need to do is ask.” He made sure you were looking at each other when he spoke, eager to see your reaction. “Tell me you don’t want to see me with someone else.”

You noticed how your body completely gave out, all hope in your eyes. Your excitement was replaced with panic as your pupils dilated and your mouth opened and closed without saying a word.

The offer was so tempting, the promise so real, so possible. I hate it.

You wanted it so badly, but it was a matter of pride and even though you were the prouder of the two of you, it was clear that you still had a hard time taking a step back from him.

“If I need to ask for attention, then I don’t want it.” You replied with a dry tone.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You knew it.

With the girl dressed in a bad porn nurse costume.

(...)

“Can you stop looking at him? I’m talking to you.”

The words of Odessa, your best friend, barely reached your ears, your thoughts overwhelming you in an almost pleasurable way.

You watched as Jude’s hand wrapped around an unfamiliar waist for the umpteenth time that night, causing your own fingers to grip your knee tightly.

This time it was a redhead, dressed in something that was more meant to cover the most private parts of her body than disguise, but who were you to judge? Right?

There was clearly a set pattern that you noticed during the time you spent sitting, gaping and staring in Bellingham’s direction. People would come up to say hello, most often women, their hands touching as much as they could without being inappropriate and a few minutes after sharing a few words they would come over with eyes fluttering in a way that could only mean one thing.

The first few times it happened, your heart nearly stopped beating. You were sure you knew what was about to happen next- Jude would take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom.

But it didn’t happen. Not with the curly-haired brunette, not with the six-foot-eight leggy blonde, not with the one he was feasting on now.

Is he not interested? You asked yourself.

A raspy growl rumbled somewhere deep in your throat before you grabbed your glass and clumsily emptied it down your throat, not caring how the liquid spilled from the corners of your lips and down your chin.

You called out to your friends, as you abruptly stood up, almost tripping over someone sitting between them.

“Let’s dance.”

Your lips formed a smile at the thought of Jude seeing you with someone else. It was childish, yes, but you didn't really care.

You were about to execute your plan, but when you turned around, you found nothing worth your attention. The spot Jude was occupying all this time now had other people in it, no sign of the brunette in sight.

You wished you could say that it didn’t affect you.

So you turned your back on your friends and walked in the opposite direction, your newly gained good mood now ruined. You thought maybe if Jude admitted to being jealous, you could too. It would make it less embarrassing.

If Jude was here, surely he could get something better.

Yes, if Jude was here. If he wasn't fucking someone else.

"Having fun?"

A familiar voice reached your ears, close enough to feel the vibration of the sound, making you shiver, thanking God the place was too dark for anyone to notice as Bellingham's proximity made your entire body shake.

You kept your eyes on the empty glass in front of you not quite sure how you were going to respond with his mood.

Any words or actions from you from now on could be detrimental.

"Don't you want to talk to me?"

Silence.

"Okay, I'll go then."

Jude didn't even move. He didn't pull away, nor did he lean back. He stood right where he was five seconds ago, the same annoyed, mocking smile on his features.

"You're still not jealous?"

You weren't just jealous, you were seething with it.

"I am, actually. Tell anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing that comes out of your mouth."

Admitting jealousy was a big deal for you, especially since you didn't know if Jude felt the same way. Also knowing what was coming after this.

"There's not much that can brighten my mood right now."you entered the room, "I just needed courage for what I'm about to do." locking it once the door was closed.

When you turned around, your eyes met and Jude felt something he hadn't felt in a while, it felt like he didn't really know anything about you.

He wasn't blind to the progress you'd made in the different areas of your relationship, but there was still a lot left to say, explain, discover, and - in a situation like this, when you seemed to be a completely different person - he was surprised at how much he still had to get to know you.

"Yeah? And can I know what it is?"

He longed to feel you again on other parts of his body and even more so when your hot mouth landed on his mouth as you said-

"Punish you."

It wasn't that it hadn't crossed Jude's mind that you might do something like this all night, but still, hearing you out loud was enough to bring a smug smile to his lips.

"Oh, really?"

It would be a lie to say you didn't find it fun.

Things were definitely taking a different turn than he had planned, but then again, ever since the party started, all of his plans were ruined, so he was surprisingly not opposed to the idea.

He was actually very intrigued.

You hummed in agreement and within seconds your hands were back on Jude's body, this time being bolder and freer with your movements.

It was the first proper touch that night and Bellingham thought he was ready, but he really had no idea how much he had missed this until he experienced it again. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the feel of your palms and the heaviness of your fingers prevented him from doing so.

Your hands moved in opposite directions, one sliding down his abdomen and the other circling the side of his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you traced circles on his skin, massaging and releasing some of the tension.

He had a hard time trying to keep from getting an erection from the moment he laid eyes on you when you arrived. Now... now it was impossible.

"You know..." you started saying.

Jude heard your whisper, but could barely register it due to the heat that was beginning to creep steadily down his body, fading only for a moment when his belt got in the way, but then coming back stronger, with a grip more powerful than before. Bellingham would be ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as soon as he felt you where he wanted it most.

“I’d rather have these for myself, but you left me no choice.”

It all clicked, both metaphorically and literally, in his brain and out loud, but Jude couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.

The handcuffs were already dangling from the tip of your index finger as you swung them teasingly back and forth in front of his face.

Oh. Interesting.

The way you could overpower Jude in a mere second was wonderful.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you do that?”

You pursed your lips briefly as if contemplating his answer.

“And what makes you think I’m going to ask for your permission?” You replied.

“Maybe that drink was too much after all,” he looked at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re confusing roles.”

Judging by his expression, you didn’t share the same opinion.

You pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

Jude didn’t stop you or object, instead sitting on the edge as he was pushed down, curious to see how things would play out.

“Are you threatening me, baby?” He asked, leaning back on his forearms.

You looked perfect from every angle, she was so sure of it now.

Your free hand gripping Jude’s jaw and squeezing it a little in annoyance.

“My name isn't ‘baby’.”

You slid your fingers down the side of Bellingham's throat where the smear of a lipstick still rested on his skin.

As you stared into each other's eyes, you looked so angry that Jude couldn't help the heat spreading throughout his insides.

"Wouldn't that make you even more angry, baby?" He emphasized on the nickname on purpose, arching an eyebrow mockingly.

The sound that came out of your throat was quiet, but he didn't miss it.

-Even her grunts are cute.-

"Shut the fuck up."

It was clear that you weren't usually the type to get angry to that extent, and even if you had been, you were the type to never act on it.

"Keep your hands behind your back if you don't want to lose your most prized possession."

You felt it before you understood it - a pressure of something hard and unfamiliar against your crotch. Something unwanted.

And it came, a sign. Not too big, not too flashy, not too obvious, but painful and threatening.

Your foot moved so abruptly that the tip of your shoe met the tip of Jude's cock and hit dangerously close to his balls.

You did it. I got you.

"Good choice."

With one swift movement, his crotch was free again, but his hands were bound at the wrists by the steel rings.

You pushed him down onto the bed and pulled his shirt open, leaving his chest completely bare.

“Shit,” you muttered at the sight. “You’re lucky to be attractive.”

“And you’re lucky to be able to see me like this.”

You sent him a questioning look. “Oh, I am? Who hasn’t gotten to see you like this? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you don’t exactly have a criterion when it comes to who you let undress you.”

“You seem really upset by that thought, sweetheart. Are you scared of having a little competition?”

“And what makes them my competition? They’re not as pretty as me.”

“But they’re a lot more obedient.” He replied.

Pure shit.

There’s nothing Jude likes more than how disobedient you are.

“You know my legs are always open for you.”

"Baby..."

"You know you can take anything you want from me, anywhere you want... any way you want..."

Every syllable that came out of your mouth was filled with confidence. Your fingers caressed his jaw as if he was teasing, barely grazing the skin before pulling away and touching another part.

"You have such a dirty mouth." The boy said.

"You want it around your cock?"

Holy shit, did you really say that?

"Yeah."

You hummed, acting like you were considering it.

"But I think you acted like shit, I don't think you deserve it."

"You're lucky that I'm tied up right now, otherwise I'd fuck you until you were ruined."

You seemed to take it as a compliment, your thighs clenching tightly around Bellingham's hips to feel him better.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?"

As if his massive erection wasn't proof enough already.

“Yes, baby. So bad.”

His confession brought a satisfied smile to your face.

“You wanna see what I got under there?”

“Show me how pretty you are.”

But you didn’t take off any clothes.

You just started riding one of his thighs, your movements teasing and slow.

“Shit. Take this off me.” The dark-skinned one said.

“And why would I do that?”

God, this was getting so frustrating. Jude wanted nothing more to do than watch you choke on his cock until you remembered how to talk to him properly. You shifted a little on his lap, creating a small but effective friction.

“Baby…”

“Suck.” You claimed.

Shit. Usually, Jude was the one giving the orders. Usually, you were the one with Jude’s fingers inside your mouth, too. He opened his mouth obligingly and you immediately pushed two of your fingers in, letting them rest on the tip of his tongue before pushing them fully into his mouth.

“You like having my fingers in your mouth?”

Jude couldn’t help but like the mess he was turning you into.

You withdrew your fingers without warning and brought them to your own mouth, sucking and moaning lewdly as you looked directly into Bellingham’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand trailed until it was just above your breasts, eyes still on Jude’s as you squeezed your tits.

Jude didn’t even have time to react before he saw you move up your own body and rub through the material covering your pussy, touching up and down a bit teasing the boy in front of you, leaving a wet spot when you pulled your hand away.

“Move your hips for me. Can you do that for me?” That innocent tone you set made Jude explode. And he didn't need to be told twice.

He put all of his weight on his arms, his palms and heels sinking deep into the mattress, and he lifted his hips so hard that you jumped a little on his lap.

Without further ado, he thrust up, fast at first, to give you a taste of his desire, but then slower, nicer, dragging his length over your underwear-covered clit.

You decided to go a little further and freed Jude's cock, so damn big and veiny. You pulled off your underwear and started rubbing yourself. It was so damn delicious the difference in size and how the head of Jude's cock rubbed against your clit.

But what kind of punishment would it be, giving him something he so craved? You knew. You had prepared better.

So when you forgot about everything except the repetitive motion you were supposed to follow, when your moans were finally released loud and clear in the way only he had heard them before, when he could already feel the pleasure, you lifted your hips.

Bellingham groaned in frustration, closing his eyes as he fucked into the air, unable to stop his body from seeking the orgasm he had just been denied.

“Untie me this very instant.”

He may not have sounded angry at his ragged breathing, his body still recovering from the denial, but he was and he would gladly show you how terrifying he could be if he gave him the chance.

You smiled sweetly, dropping your weight onto his lap, a movement so sudden it left him breathless.

“No.”

"I wasn't-" He trailed off, a small sound escaping his mouth from another roll of your hips on his axis. "I wasn't asking."

"Fuck, did I tell you how big you are?" You replied, your small body shaking as you pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. "You should learn not to play with me Bellingham, I'm not one of those girls, don't get wrong with me."

You pulled up your underwear and pulled back up the shorts that barely covered your ass and the small miniskirt accompanied by a pink belt that was hooked with straps to the leggings that reached just above your knee.

"Shit, shit, shit..." He replied frustrated.

"I'm sorry but now you'll have to fix this on your own." You turned around and walked away.

Jude Bellingham is totally lost.

[dreamgirievii]

Instant Crush 3

Synopsis: Your families arranged for you to marry each other and boost their companies, they just didn't know you were declared enemies since childhood. Now you're living on the same roof and sharing a bed, you still have to keep up appearances for your parents so they won't suspect that you hate each other. But now after months together, you begin to feel desire for him, and you hate the thoughts that are now invading your head.

Words: 1,8k

Content: female reader, enemies to lovers, oblivious to love trope, arranged marriage, 18+.

part 1 here

part 2 here.

You stayed away from the apartment the whole day, the image of what you had done replaying on your mind like a stuck vinyl. Nothing pushed the taste of his lips away. Or the feeling of his hands bruising your hips. How you were the one who did it first. You sit on the bench near the park, stunned at your own actions, how could you have done that after saying you hated his guts? But God, how good it was, to feel his hands and his lips and the warmth of them. You could feel the slight ache from how hard he grabbed your hips.

Some part of you wanted to go back and finish what you started, but the still coherent part couldn't even move, you were embarrassed, feeling pathetic, angry. And all to yourself.

The sky was shining is the brightest and warmest rays, burning your skin in shades of red, but you couldn’t move, the dreadful feeling inside you were so intense, that all you wanted was to scratch a hole on the ground and crawl into it, and spend the rest of your days rotting. The idea of going back to that apartment you shared and facing him was… excruciating. You have sworn you would hate him forever, with all your might. So why did you kiss him like you wanted to feast on his soul?

The buzz on your phone broke your unstoppable thoughts for a while and made you read the message in an unsaved number so you knew very well who it was. “I am waiting for you, at home. We need to talk.” With a sigh you block your phone again and run a hand over your face, the sweat already accumulated from the hot day of summer. You couldn’t keep hiding forever, you have to face him someday… And if you could choose you would only meet him again in maybe 50 years from the amount of embarrassment you were feeling.

The streets were rather empty for a friday, but besides it was the heat keeping the people tucked inside their houses, above their fans and while you walked back towards your apartment you started to dwell again. What if he hates you more? If now it was the final reason and he would send you away and annul the wedding? A part of you wanted it but the growing part of you, the part that needed him desperately was dreading that thought.

It was common knowledge you two never got along, ever since you were small children you would bicker and throw insults, and that never changed as you grew older. And now after this arranged marriage you thought it would only get worse, you wanted to get worse. To hate him as you thought he hated you. But now you weren’t so sure about it. After the kiss, you were starting to come to your senses for the fact that you actually liked him… and that frightened you.

“Where were you? Why did you run away like that?” The first thing he says as you enter the apartment, Satoru was waiting impatiently for you by the front door. Walking back and forth and replaying that kiss in his mind.

You don’t reply to him at first, too overwhelmed by his presence to think of anything.

“I was… Taking a walk.”

“It’s 96 degrees outside, are you trying to get an insolation, or were you just running from me?” Satoru asks in a cocky tone, like he knew exactly why you ran, and that amused him.

You ran a hand over your forehead and wiped some sweat and looked at him with a pleading look, hoping he would drop the subject and continue with life as if nothing happened earlier. But that would be too good to be true because he says next.

“Look, I just want to talk about ‘that’. Why? Because until earlier I thought you wanted me dead. Last night I tried to convince you to let me be in your life and you practically shoved me aside. Now you kiss me?” He walks around, still shirtless for your misfortune… Or fortune, it is a pretty toned body, you thought. But then you quickly shook your head and sighed, trying to think of an answer.

“I wasn’t thinking, okay? I… I just wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s the first thought of being with me that dreadful to you?” Satoru used a sad tone, that at first you thought it’s mocking until you looked at him again.

“Maybe… Yes. We were supposed to hate each other, as until yesterday I thought we did, but after you practically begged me to let you in my life, I don't know anymore.” You paced around the living room, not wanting to look at him as you let the words out. “I made a mistake, okay? I’m sorry I shouldn't have kissed you, I wasn’t thinking.”

Satoru looked at you with gritted teeth, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you pacing around. “Wasn’t thinking? It felt like a well thought out act, by the way you did it. I don’t know why you hate me so much that the thought of returning my feelings makes you want to rip your own skin but…” What? You stopped mid pacing and looked at him with parted lips and a shocked expression. Did you hear him right? Did he just say ‘Returning my feelings’?. “What?” You ask, in a barely audible voice.

“What, what?” Satoru looks even more confused than you now.

“You said ‘Return your feelings’. You… You like me?” You asked incredulously.

“Did the conversation we had before bed ring any bells?” He scoffs.

You let your mouth hang open as you remembered yesterday's talk when you two were trying to sleep. And then everything made sense. You thought he was just pushing your buttons, you thought he still hates you just as you hated him (in theory).

“Since when?”

He sighed and walked towards you slowly “Ever since the first time I saw you. In that yellow dress with pink dots, your hair in a cute braid, I had to focus myself not to take it in my hands and play with it. I have liked you ever since that day.” He stops in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair beside your ear softly. “You captivated me ever since day one, with your bossy attitude, always telling me to do this and that, fighting me when I refused to do what you told me to.”

“I don’t get it, Satoru. Why did you pretend to hate me all this time? Why didn’t you say anything?” You ask. This can’t be true right? He likes you all this time? Even before your arranged marriage? You couldn’t wrap your mind around that, he had fought you, cursed back at you, and claimed to hate you as much as you did.

“My family has always been interested in your family business, I knew that once they put their hands on your fathers company, it would be over for your family. They’re too greedy, and I've seen what they’ve done to other companies . I couldn’t let this happen to you. And when I overheard one of their conversations, I knew what to do, to push you away so you would hate me, and eventually push your parents away from mine. And that worked until… eight months ago…” He trailed off, playing with your hair as he looked at your shoulder apparently lost in his thoughts.

Your family and Satoru’s were closed, even before you were born, you grew up with him, always in family dinners on his fancy house, until he began to pick on you, making jokes and annoying the hell out of you, so you complained to your father and soon your weren’t around him anymore. The relation between his family and yours grew colder as well, until last year when his father proposed yours for the idea of an arranged marriage to conjoin their companies and improve their sales. And that was exactly what happened. You and Satoru have been married for a few months now, at first this was your worst nightmare . You thought he would keep picking on you and playing his stupid tricks like he used to when you were younger. But that wasn’t what happened, he was respectful of you, of your space and never pushed you like he had done multiple times before. You still thought he disliked you, but were trying to be civil now, until today.

You looked at his eyes, his bright blue eyes that felt like he could see your soul, the same pair of eyes you started to grow mesmerized by. You touched his hand in your hair and dragged it to your cheek. Satoru squeezed your hand in his and leaned even closer to you.

You closed your eyes, his touch warming your heart even more, all you’ve been needing was his touch, even if you denied yourself, but having his skin against yours made you warm on the inside. “You’re so beautiful, brat.” He muttered close to your ear, his warm breath caressing your skin. You opened your eyes again and looked at him, a soft smile creeping in the corner of your lips.

Satoru smiled back at you, his eyes full of affection. He leaned in towards you, cupping both your cheeks and pressed his lips against hers in a soft, tender kiss. Your hand traveled to hold his neck and bring him closer, your chests now pressed together. Satoru hands moved to your waist, relishing the feel of your skin under his fingertips. His lips moved against your slowly, savoring the taste of you. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue gently tracing the seam of your lips and seeking entrance. You opened your lips and intertwined your tongue with his, moaning softly at the feeling. His hands roamed around your body, feeling your curves. The kiss grew more heated and passionate with each passing second. You felt like you could die right now, this is heaven, you thought. It wasn’t like the earlier kiss, no. It was so much better, no guilt, no trepidation… It was only affection and desire, and you knew he felt it too, by the way his hands traveled to grab your ass. You couldn’t help smirk as he kissed you. Maybe liking him back wasn’t so bad, maybe loving him was what you were supposed to do ever since that day he saw you in your yellow dress. And God, you wish you realized it sooner.

[yuyu1024]

Lettuce

Pairings: Mingyu × y/n

Genre/tags: non idol, dating

Warning: 🔞 fluff but still smut, pet names (babes, baby, love, honey, sweetheart etc.), cursing, unportected/protected sex (always be safe), kinks (size, breeding, tits, etc), mention of small age gap, mention of low self-esteem/confidence and insecurities

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.6k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: been away. I didnt know if I should post this or delete but then... I dont want effort to go to waste so.. 😅 i hope this is an okay one.

Have a nice day.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Are you still waiting for your ride home?"

You look at the group of girls standing a few feet away from you. They are from the department across your office.

"Is your boyfriend late?" She adds a follow up question

You smile, "I am." You cautiously asks.

They are not your friends so you are not comfortable to share more than that. And also they are known to be the gossipers in the officr so, any details about your personal life would be the next topic for the next few weeks if you share anything with them.

"It's already late... are you sure he's still coming?" One girl asks.

Luckily, the bus arrives just in time for them to hurry in. No time for you to even chat with them anymore.

"Thank goodness..." you sigh feeling relieved.

*pings*

🐶: sorry, im late. 😭

🐶: i helped an old lady cross the street.

🐶: didn't know she would ask me to also help her get boxes of soju in her shop.

🐶: she admitted to pretending to struggle crossing the street so she can ask anyone to help her and his son 🙃 and then made me buy a whole bunch of lettuce.

🐶: like a whoke bunch😶

🐶: you like lettuce right babe?😚

You smile as you read your boyfriend's text. You don't know if its you imagining him pouting because he feels sorry he made you wait or its because he felt used and scammed.

💖: you're so silly.

💖: its still a good deed so its okay 😊

🐶: but i am 10mins late.

🐶: i cant let my princess wait for me.

💖: i can wait. As long as its you... ♥️

You see him read the message and then not reply.

"Hello stranger..."

You got startled when Mingyu embraces you from behind and kissed you on the cheek.

"Yah! You scared me." You slap his arm

"Sorry..." he giggles and kissed you again. This time on the lips.

"Stop..." you say, blushing. "We are outside."

"So...?" He grins and then puts his arm around you. "We are a couple. Who the fuck cares?"

You roll your eyes. "You know people judge..."

"No... they are just jealous because I am dating a wonderful woman..."

You shake your head. "No... they are not jealous because of me..." you push him away. Forcing a laugh. "Probably because you look good in that double denim look."

Here you go again with your self pity and self judging. You always do this. 'This' notion that you are way below over any other girl and that you are just lucky Mingyu is your boyfriend. You always make an effort to put yourself down without even noticing that Mingyu does not like it.

He fucking loves you. Inside and out. From head to toe. From front to back. He even loves it when you are not at your best behavior nor position. He just... loves you. Period.

But on your end, even with a million reassurance, you always doubt yourself for him.

***

Arriving at his apartment, the first thing you did was announce that you are going to take a shower. You didn't even looked at him when you said it. You're not mad at him or whatever. You are just guilty and feel sorry for being down out of the blue. You didn't even talked that much during the ride home.

"Hey..." he takes you by your arm and pulls you close for an embrace. He kissed the top of your head and then forehead. "Take your time... I'm going to cook dinner."

You smile with no teeth showing. "Okay..." your voice sounding almost a whisper.

"Anything in particular you want? We have meat, fish and vegetables... like a lot of lettuce..." referring to the whole plastic the old lady sell him. "You want something with soup or fried? Ramyun or pasta?"

"Hmm... I like pasta... and a salad on a side?"

"Okay... as you wish my princess..."

The whole apartment smells like a five star restaurant. The fragrance is to die for and makes your mouth water. When you got out of the bedroom, hair still damp, you got suprised by how extravagant Mingyu arranged the dining area. Fancy plates, lit candles, wine glasses and a bottle of his favorite red win. All of a sudden, iy felt like you entered an Italian restaurant wearing your baby pink pajamas and hello kitty slippers.

"Hi, babe." Mingyu is a ray of sunshine while putting on a few more finishing touches on the table. "Ready to eat?"

"Aww..." your heart is aching with pure joy. He is the sweetest man alive.

You stumble your way to him, caused by your own feet. He managed to catch you giggling with you. You look silly but he find it cute. And then as your eyes met he immediately captures your lips for a kiss. Small pecks that got deeper and more seductive. The kisses are loud that it echoes and bounce off the walls of the apartment. He can't also stop touching every curve of your body. From your hips, to your ass and to your tits. He even lifted your shirt so he can access your bra and yank one side down exposing you boob.

"M-mingyu...." you giggle as you try to pull away from the kiss. He does not want to let you go. He keeps on chasing your pink lips whenever a gap starts to build in betweem his. "We need to eat... the food will get cold..."

He didn't answer. He leans lower so he could give love on your exposed bud. He suck it first before he lets his tongue lick it and make your squirm.

"M-mingyu..." you inhale. "The food...?"

He finally lets you go, smiling. "Fine." He chased one more kiss. "But after we eat..." and another one. "I'd like to go straight to dessert." And another one. "You know I love my dessert." He says, bitting his lower lip while grinning like a mad dog.

"You're crazy!" You pinch his nose.

"Crazy over you..." he growls and suddenly picks you up off the floor. He puts your legs around his waist and you automatically hang your arms over his shoulder to hold on.

"Yah!"

"I can't wait. I think I want to begin our dinner with dessert first." His eyes is filled with desire and he is ready to wreck you.

Kicking the door open to your bedroom, Mingyu lays you down gently but in a hurry at the same time. He is on a mission. He is not going to make love to you. He will FUCK your brains out tonight. You know that look in his eyes.

"No condoms... I need to feel you... skin to skin..." he pulls his shirt off and throws it, hitting the wall, then begins to unbuckle his belt and pants. "And I'll like to fill you up until it leaks out of your pussy." He adds, grinning

"Oh God..." you try to get a hold of yourself. Not ready for what is coming

He pushes down his pants and underwear in one go. His length springs free and is up, steady and hard. It's tip glistening with pre cum.

"Turn around..."

You do as he says and go on fours on top of the bed. He pulls your pants down, revealing a bare and wet pussy ready to be torn.

"No panties huh..."

You blush. "Well... I know we'll have sex today... I just didn't know its going to be this soon..."

Mingyu hovers on your back, hand sliding up and down your curves. "Do you want me to stop and just go on with dinner?"

You lower your heard, embarassed, even though he's not seeing how turned on and red you are. "No... I would never say no to you..." after a few breaths in you look back, cheeks red and warm. "You know sex with you is my only addiction."

"Fuck yeah it is..." he says proudly and satisfied

He eases himself in, slowly but deliciously. He skipped prepping you. He can't wait anymore. His dick is aching and wanting to feel your walls.

"I'll be a little rough to you today, babe." He smacks your ass and a moan escapes your lips. "I didn't like what you did earlier..."

"Ughhh!" He slams strong and consistent. It's driving you insane how he could hit the very back of your cervix. Actually he could hit every thing inside you. Thats how long and thick he is. "W-hat... what did... I do?" You arch your back and pushed your upper body up so he can embrace you and touch your body as he thrust your brains out.

"You know..." he grunts as he adjusts and tries to go deeper, even though he is already at the deep end of your insides. "I don't like it... when you don't appreciate yourself..." he inhales and exhales as he feels you clench and make it tighter. "Fuck! Babe!" He kisses the curves of your neck and bites on your shoulder when he feels the tightness thats make it fucking sensational for him

You ubotton your top to give him access to your chest. You didn't unhook your bra though. You just pulled the ladies out and the bra helps give them a push up.

"You are beautiful... sexy... and a wonderful woman..." he pushes your hair out of his way so he can kiss your neck. "Love yourself... the way I love you."

He then pulls out, almost making you cry and beg. But them makes you turn around to face him.

"Can you?" He asks with the most loving eyes

You crash your lips to his. Pushing your tongue in him. You didn't stop until you hear a moany cry from your boyfriend. His brows then creases when you playfully bite his lower lip. "I want to..."

"But what?" He carries you off the bed and pins you to the wall, beside the window of your bedroom. Your one leg touching the ground while the other is hooked over his forearm. "Answer me, babe."

He slams back in you. Stronger and much deeper. Which confused you coz how? Its not like your cervix can expand. But thats what it felt when he slammed you. It didn't hurt. It felt insane actually. Insanely goodm

"You are kind... sweet... caring... hardworking... knows what you like and dislike... respectful..."

You are catching your breathe in your throat. Its like you are choking from excess pleasure. You try to speak but you can't let go of the high. So instead of speaking, you just shook your head.

"You don't agree?" He asks. Mingyu looks at you with his puppy eyes and showered you with kisses. Then he kept repeating all the good qualities you have as a person and even physically.

He really is telling you every bits about you. Everything that he loves and dislike but accepts coz it is you. It is part of you. He really do love you.

"What can I do... to reassure you?"

You put your hand over his mouth. Not to shut him down but to hush him for a second. Just for a moment until you get it all out for him.

"Fuck me!" You cry as you can't help but  cry more of his name. You are so close to your orgasm. "Nggghhhh...!"

You shut your eyes ready to explode but then Mingyu pulls away from your hand, takes you back in bed to finish, when he suddenly says the two words you didn't expect him to say while he's fucking your brains out

"Marry me..." he says.

Your eyes opens, looks at him in pure shock and bliss. "W-wha..." you can't finish your words. He was hammering you. You can't answer. "Mingyu!" You moan his name so loud when your world spun around.

"I love you." He grunts as he see you melt and when he pushed into you a few more times, he finally begins release himself you. All the warmth and every drop of him in you. "Fuck!" He exhales, dropping his body on you but not his weight. "I love you..." he says again. "So much..." he kisses your shoulder and then your cheek. "So... what do you say?" He smirks

"Suddenly?" You look at him, confused.

"Hmmm..." he scrunches his nose, still wearing the smile on his lips. "Not really..."

He then gets up, pulling out of you, which felt like you got more naked than what you are now. More exposed.

"Wait lemma clean you first."

He runs into the bathroom and takes a towel to wipe you clean. Just clean enough to be presentable but not totally wipe his seeds off you. He wants that in there.

And then he runs out of the room.

"Where are you going? Babe?" You are confused. Why is your man running outside the bedroom ass naked

Giggling as you see him comeback in and carring the plastic bag of lettuce.

"Huh? What's that for?" You sit up and wrap the thin white blanket to your body.

"I lied. Well... we still going to have salads and all..." he is mumbling. "This should be over dinner... but... I could not help myself earlier so..."

"Mingyu... what is going on...?"

Laughing but still trying to pull a serious face. "It was true that an old lady sold me this but... as I was helping her she took the paper bag the came wit this... and I panicked." He sits down beside you. "I didn't want to put it in my jacket or pocket coz... it will be obvious... and when we walk and your cold you always put your hand in my jacket's pockst so..."

"Mingyu!" You grab his face and kissed him. To make him focus. "Just say it..." you are giggling now too.

"Okay..." a soft smile spreads to his lips. "I know... you may think... I'm still young and naive."

"No you're not..."

"Yeah but... still... anyways..." he nervously laughs. "Like I said... you are an amazing woman. Anyman who you choose to love will be the luckiest. And thankfully its me..." he then goes down to his one knee and pulls out a black box from the plastic of lettuce. "I said I didn't like what you did earlier... you looking down at yourself... but that does mean I hate you or mad at you for it... I just say that because I care.. I want you to feel... assured and happy." He opens the box and shows the most brightest ring you ever saw in your life. "If I have to always reassure you for the rest of our lives... I don't fucking care. I am up for it. I love you and I can't live a day without you." Pulling out the ring and taking your hand. "Please marry me... I will serve you and love you forever..."

You watch him put the ring on your finger.

"So...?" He looks at you with doe eyes

Letting you of the blanket covering your body, you launch yourself to him, making you guys fall on the floor. "I love you Kim Mingyu..." you say first before kissing him. "Forever is not a bad idea..." you kiss him again. "Of course I will accept."

"Sorry if I proposed to you after sex... at diner would've been fantastic"

"Don't say sorry... I do love your way..." you get up from embracing him. "It brings back to how we started."

He sits back up. "Right."

Then you stare at your ring. "Who could've guessed that... I will be marrying the guy I met and fucked at a friend's birthday?"

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[ninjatrashpanda]

The Other Shoe (Waiting for it to drop)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Today's prompt is "Coming Out Scenes!"

Read it on AO3 here.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to face the music,” Buck whispered, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve. His eyes wandered over to his parents, who had watched him and Tommy like hawks throughout the entire reception, though Buck had a hard time predicting what they were thinking. On one hand, therapy had been going well, and while The Buckleys would probably never be the big happy family Buck had wished for as a kid, Mom and Dad were trying. They had been nothing but supportive about him being Connor and Kameron’s sperm donor last year, and Buck would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a pang of appreciation when they had stood up for him against Chimney’s father and stepmother.

On the other hand, well, these were his parents, and old fears die hard. While they had apologized for how they had treated him and Maddie and become better, there was a little voice at the back of his head that told him they’d just be disappointed again. The fact that his mother hadn’t managed to get rid of the bewildered look on her face since he had dragged Tommy into Chimney’s hospital room didn’t help.

“Should I be scared?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buck chuckled, though it sounded more like a nervous exhale. He stole another glance at his parents, then shifted his gaze to the floor, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust. “Nah,” he said, though he admittedly wasn’t even able to convince himself of that. “Not scared. Just... prepared.”

Tommy followed Buck’s gaze across the room, where Buck’s parents stood stiffly by a wall, half-empty champagne flutes clutched tightly in their hands. Buck knew they had been mingling just a few minutes ago, but he still couldn’t help but feel that they looked, well, out of place. While they were nothing but polite, they didn’t really mesh with anyone else, and always seemed a little awkward.

“They don’t seem like they bite,” Tommy observed, in that casual, dry tone Buck had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks. In an instant, a part of his anxiety evaporated and bubbled to the surface in a barely held back snort.

“Not literally, no.” Buck ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head, the slight smile Tommy had brought to his face staying on his face. “It’s just... history, you know? They’re trying, and I get that, I do. But sometimes it’s like...” He trailed off with a shrug, struggling to find the right words. “It’s like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tommy nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze Buck’s. Buck had told him the basics, how Maddie had practically raised him, how their parents had been neglectful and controlling. He vaguely knew about Daniel, too, though Buck hadn’t delved into the whole Savior Baby thing yet. The subject was…touchy, to say the least, and while he knew he had to breach it at some point, he wanted Tommy to have as neutral an opinion on his parents as possible. They were putting in the effort, so Buck figured they deserved that much.

“Well,” Tommy said, squeezing Buck’s hand again, a bit firmer this time, “if things get weird, you’ve got me for backup. Just say the word, and I’ll distract them with my fake mouth static.”

Buck couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, which surprised even himself. Tommy had a knack for diffusing tension, and Buck was grateful for it. It was one of the reasons he had gravitated toward him in the first place. He tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand, drawing strength from the contact, before letting go and straightening up.

“Good idea. You’re renowned for your fake mouth static after all.”

“Damn right I am.”

They stood there for a moment, neither quite willing to take the first step towards the inevitable conversation. The reception was starting to wind down, (because the nurses were kicking people out now) so at least if this developed into a scene, not too many people would end up seeing. Chimney, now recovering well after the whole viral encephalitis debacle, was in high spirits, chatting animatedly with Hen and Karen. Maddie was close by his side, smiling brighter than he had ever seen, seemingly refusing to let go of her new husband’s arm.

The love between them gave Buck a tiny surge of courage. If Maddie and Chimney could find happiness after everything they had been through, then maybe things could work out with his and Maddie’s parents too.

“Alright,” Buck said, straightening his posture, bracing himself for impact. “Let’s do this.”

They crossed the room together, Tommy a step behind Buck, offering silent support. Buck’s parents straightened as he approached, their faces neutral masks. They clearly didn’t know how to react, and Buck could hardly blame them for that.

“Hi,” Buck said, forcing a smile. “You probably have a few questions.”

His mother’s eyes softened, but there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in them. His father cleared his throat, his grip on the champagne flute tightening just slightly. The atmosphere was stiff, and the air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Hi, Buck,” his mother replied, her voice wavering just a bit. Buck was actually (positively) surprised that she used his nickname, though he had to admit it sounded almost foreign in her voice. “Yes, we, uh…” She glanced at his father, who nodded, urging her to continue. “We do have some questions, but—”

“We don’t want to push,” his father interjected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re just… trying to understand.”

Buck nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. They weren’t throwing accusations and bad faith arguments around, so that was a good start. Still, Buck knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t spoken about the big B yet, after all.

“Yeah,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite outgrown. “I figured. And, uh, it’s okay to ask. I know this is… a lot.”

He could see the moment his mother tried to put on a brave face, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were surprised, that’s all,” she said. “When you came into the room with…”

She trailed off, her eyes moving over Buck’s shoulder to where he knew Tommy stood just a foot or two behind him. He took a deep breath. This was it. No going back. He had thought about it for weeks at this point, had said it out loud to himself in the mirror, but not to anybody else, not even Maddie or Tommy.

“Tommy.” He turned slightly, reaching out his hand out to Tommy, who took it into his own with a smile as he stepped up. “Mom, Dad, this is Tommy Kinard. He’s my date. He, uh… he’s the reason I figured out that I’m bisexual.”

The words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears almost deafening. He knew this moment was pivotal (one of the most important in his life, probably) and the weight of it pressed down on him like the world on Atlas’ shoulders.

His parents exchanged glances, and Buck could see an onslaught of emotions flitting across their faces: surprise, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of something that could be hope. His mother’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute, and his father took a small step closer to her.

Tommy, for his part, stayed by Buck’s side, his presence a quiet but powerful anchor. He gave Buck’s hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he was here, and that he wouldn’t leave. Buck was grateful for that; it reminded him that no matter what was going to happen, he wasn’t alone.

His mother was the first to speak. “Bisexual,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of anger or disappointment in her tone. Instead, she seemed...curious. “I…well, I didn’t expect that.”

Buck could see his father’s jaw tighten momentarily before he let out a slow breath. “Buck,” he began, his voice careful, deliberate. “This is…this is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that we’re listening. We’re trying to understand.”

Buck nodded. This wasn’t a rejection, not outright. But it wasn’t exactly acceptance either, not yet, at least. Still, it was something, and in this moment, something was better than nothing.

“I know it’s a lot,” Buck said, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to get it all at once. I only figured it out a few weeks ago, too. I just wanted you to know, because…because it’s who I am. And Tommy… he’s important to me.”

His mother’s eyes softened at that, and Buck could see her shifting, recalibrating her thoughts, trying to process this new piece of information about her son. “Tommy,” she said, as if tasting the name for the first time. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that was almost…gentle. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, his usual confidence replaced by an almost shy nervousness. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Buckley. And Mr. Buckley,” he added, nodding respectfully toward Buck’s father.

Buck’s father gave a small nod in return, though his expression remained unreadable. “Tommy,” he repeated, his voice a bit more measured. “You’re… Buck’s boyfriend?”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously that question would come up. He should’ve been prepared for it, but he wasn’t. He and Tommy hadn’t even really had that conversation. He’d certainly like for Tommy to be his boyfriend, he just wasn’t sure if Tommy was at that point yet. It had only been a few weeks after all. They had been on four dates, one of which was a complete disaster, and another that hadn’t even been a date at first, but an apology for the date that had been a complete disaster.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, his tone steady. “I’m his boyfriend. And I know this might be surprising, but Evan…he means a lot to me. I care about him.”

Buck’s breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected Tommy to say it outright. He had expected a lighthearted “Not yet” or “We’re seeing each other.” That he’d gone right ahead… Buck’s heart swelled just a little bit. He squeezed Tommy’s hand a little tighter, grateful beyond words. Tommy’s answer made Buck just a little braver.

Finally, his mother spoke again. “I…I see,” she said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. She looked at Buck, her eyes searching his, as if trying to reconcile the son she knew with these new things she was learning about him. “And you… you’re happy?”

Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. It was such a simple question, but it carried so much baggage. She wasn’t asking if he was happy with Tommy. She was asking if he was happy with himself, something that would’ve been absolutely unthinkable just three years ago.

“I am,” Buck replied, his voice growing more assured. “I’m happy, Mom. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

His mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision within herself. She reached out then, tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she placed it on Buck’s arm. “That’s all we want, Buck,” she whispered, her voice wavering a little. “We just want you to be happy.”

His father, who had been silent for most of the exchange, cleared his throat again. “It’s…a lot to adjust to,” he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if this is who you are, and if this man makes you happy, then…well, we’ll do our best to understand.”

Buck felt a surge of relief wash over him, so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something. Something good. It was yet another step toward healing their relationship, and for that, he was grateful.

“Thank you,” Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for not, like, freaking out.”

His father gave a small nod, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm, a silent reassurance that they were, in fact, trying. Tommy smiled and wrapped his arm around Buck’s shoulders, Buck leaning into his side almost automatically, enjoying the warmth of their connection.

His mother glanced over at Tommy, her expression softening further. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner before we fly back to Hershey, Tommy,” she said, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “We’d like to get to know you better.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the invitation, and Buck didn’t blame him. It was already unusual that Tommy had met his parents this early, but getting invited to family dinner? That was big. “I’d love to, Mrs. Buckley. Thank you.”

Buck’s father gave a curt nod, not quite ready to add anything further, but his stance had relaxed just a little. There was still a long way to go, a lot of conversations to be had, but in that moment, Buck knew they were moving in the right direction.

As the reception continued to wind down, Buck stood there with Tommy by his side, his parents before him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a cautious sense of optimism. The journey ahead would be challenging, there was no doubt about that, but they were all still here, still trying, and that was more than Buck could have hoped for when he first approached them.

As they exchanged a few more words, lighter now, less fraught with tension, Buck realized that this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not just acceptance, but the willingness to grow, to move forward together. And maybe that was enough to help the wounds of the past heal.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Kelly Betts

People can’t see my disability from the outside. I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at the comments and harassment I already face.

On Thursday, officials in Nassau County, New York, where I live, signed a mask ban into law, one of the first of its kind in the country. And while to most healthy adults it doesn’t mean much, to those with serious health conditions, like me, it makes getting out into the world a lot harder.

The ban was touted by lawmakers as a public safety measure after reported antisemitic incidents and protests at various New York universities, many involving people wearing masks. Those who violate the new law face a misdemeanor charge punishable by up to a year in jail and a $1,000 fine. And while there are exemptions for people with religious and medical reasons, it’s not dealing with the law that I’m afraid of. It’s dealing with the “citizen cops” of the world who will be using their discretion to enforce it.

I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in February 2023. It’s a fast-growing type of blood cancer. I underwent more than five rounds of chemotherapy, and the following July, thanks to an amazingly generous donor, I had a stem cell transplant, something I knew nothing about until I got sick. I was given some of the most powerful chemotherapies to kill my old immune system and any remaining cancer cells. Then I was given my donor’s stem cells to help build a brand-new immune system.

There are a lot of risks that come along with the transplant, especially in the early stages as the stem cells are engrafting and you have no immune system. The first 100 days are the riskiest, and you must watch everything from what you eat to how it’s prepared, and most of all the people around you. Your body is starting from scratch, so you have almost no immunities. Any vaccinations you’ve had over your lifetime have been wiped out. For the last year since my transplant, my immune system has slowly been getting stronger. But building a new immune system takes years, and I have a long way to go. So, wearing my face mask whenever I go out is essential.

That brings me back to the new law. I wear a medic alert bracelet and would hope that showing it to the police, should it ever become an issue, would be enough. But that’s not guaranteed, because anyone can just order one. Would I be forced to show up in court to prove my medical condition to a judge? And what cost and time could that take, all to protect my health? And what about my family or people who act as caregivers, who don’t technically have medical conditions of their own, but still wear masks to protect me? Would there be an exemption for them?

Most of all, I worry about those who have strong feelings against masks. As we know, many people read headlines and not always the full story. And just reading most of the headlines, all someone will know is that there’s a mask ban in Nassau County. Even at the height of my illness, with no hair and really looking like I had cancer, I still got comments like “Covid is over” or “that’s not protecting you.” And while the few comments hurt, especially while I was battling for my life, I could shake them off. I had a bigger fight ahead of me.

Now, healthier with hair again and 43 years old, the comments continue. But I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at that. People can’t see my disability from the outside. It’s been hard to get back out in the world, as many can relate to after going through a global pandemic. Even being as careful as I am and just starting to let my guard down a little in outdoor settings, I caught Covid. And it took my body and immune system down hard. Luckily, I’m recovering and back to wearing my mask diligently, even outdoors.

I want to be able to return to my normal life. And go out with friends, see a Broadway show, and one day get back to my office in the city. But now with New York City considering passing its own mask ban, I don’t know when I would feel safe enough to do that. Is this law really protecting the masses?

[kurominiiiz]

stop tagging your discourse with fandom tags, there is absolutely no need for ur opinion to “reach a wider audience” and it’s annoying seeing it in the tags. if u wanna play saviour for animated characters do it on ur own blog and not in the tags. i don’t like dark content but i don’t sit around and shit on people who do and send them death threats. i just don’t consume their content. i scroll. it’s really that easy to be a decent person. if u can’t even handle scrolling past something u don’t like and being civil about it then u need to do some evaluating. ur allowed to feel how u feel and think it’s gross but at the end of the day people will still create and consume it so i’m not sure what ur trying to achieve here other than shit disturbing. there’s much worse going on in real life, such as the war in gaza, which u have not posted about at all. put ur effort into something that actually matters and can save a life. a real life, not a fictional one

I want you to reread this and realize you sound like a fucking idiot. I do NOT send people death threats and the fact you're accusing me of this as an ANON instead of your actual account speaks volumes about the kind of person you are. The fact I have to say that posting ILLEGAL topics is BAD and have to argue with dumbasses like you about it truly upsets me. You're fucking weird.

I posted my rant because it's MY account. Also, that's what tags are for, reaching a wider audience. In case you're unaware, I'm a JJK smau creator. My account is solely based on JJK and making scenarios about them. I'm allowed to criticize my community. I'm trying to spread a WORD that something is wrong. Did you read ANYTHING on my post? Go back and reread it, maybe your brain will comprehend it.

Once again, SMAU CREATOR. I focus on JJK. I don't post about real world stuff because that's not what my account is about! Bud, you really need to read and rethink. Think before you speak!

Also, I'm tagging this just to piss you off further. Have a great day

[hwnglx]

hm i tried my best to explain, he has a lot of different facets to him, so reading for him can get a little overwhelming.. hope it's still a nice read 🤍

jake's ideal type

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled songs: bored by billie eilish young and beautiful by lana del rey “will you still love me, when i got nothing but my aching soul?”

physical traits

natural and classic beauty. harmonious features. deep and intense eyes. color more on the darker side. (like dark eyes you can lose yourself in) fierce gaze. something strong about their features that makes them stand out, it just catches your eye. face that lights up once they smile. (looks colder in a resting position but transform once they break into a smile) keep hearing “부담스러워” meaning burdenful. in this context, used more in an “intimidating” manner. in korean this can be used for people who have intensity to their look, people you can't hold eye contact with for long. he doesn't have an extremely specific type, just needs to feel intrigued.

personality traits

so, jake likes his partners to have a powerful effect on him. what seems to intrigue him in a person, is “reverse charm” where they might look sweet and innocent, but are much more fierce and savage inside. or look intense and cold, but end up being very soft and sweet inside. someone with a captivating aura, who carries themselves with a sense of mystery. a person he looks at and makes him wonder, awakens his interest like.. “oh this person must have such a different side to them deep down.”

jake also likes it when his lovers can boldly challenge him and his beliefs. he wants someone witty who isn't afraid to talk back at him, change his perspectives. someone whose words and actions linger in his mind, make him re-think his own and in hindsight change and transform him for the better. he wants his relationships to turn him into the better version of himself and to provoke him to discover his best self.

another quality he seems to cherish in his romantic partners, is when they're patient, gentle and persevering. he wants someone with emotional intelligence and empathy for people, who looks after the ones they treasure with great care. he needs someone loyal who won't be discouraged quickly, and remains committed to him through every trial. he seems to be quite self aware, so he knows that he isn't exactly the easiest lover to deal with.. whether that's because of his busy schedule, or his more complicated nature. he wants a person with motives and interests selfless enough to be accepting towards his faults, forgiving towards his mistakes. he wants a resilient person who can encourage him to work on himself. honestly, he seems to like his s/o to have motherly energy. he wants someone who will nurture him, coddle him on some levels, but also give him the tough love he needs to grow.

jake wants a person who puts importance into keeping the relationship harmonious. he'd appreciate a person who can balance him out, in a way where they can complete him in the areas he lacks. for instance, someone much more stable and grounded than him. someone who can be more logical or objective and less impulsive when the situation asks for it. i keep hearing “정신 차려”, which means “come to your senses” or “pull yourself together”.

(note; this insight was interesting because i think he's this case of opposites attracting and benefitting from each other. he could grow a lot from being with someone like jay, who has a stellium in taurus, which is opposite jake's scorpio stellium. idk if they're close but despite unavoidable clashes due to being so so different, they have potential to balance each other out pretty well)

jake puts a lot of value into understanding each other on a level deeper than everyone else. he wants there to be effortless communication between the two, almost telepathic, where they know what the other means even without necessarily being vocal about it. the person who seems to know you so well; they complete your sentences, or know what you're thinking or feeling just by one glance at your expression.

he also seems to like his lovers having this duality in personality, where they can be both; cute, playful and kittenish (someone who flirts in this giggly and coy way), but capable of having meaningful and long conversations about deep and serious matters in life. he does seem to love duality a lot, whether that's appearance-wise or character-wise.

him as a boyfriend

+ jake is a boyfriend who loooves making you feel like it's only you and him in this world. he really values alone-time and deep intimacy, whether that's physical intimacy in the form of quality time, or emotional intimacy in the form of deep conversations. he enjoys zoning in on his partners and focusing the entirety of his attention on them.

sweet aspect; he himself can be very moody, but if you need him to be your source of comfort and shoulder to cry on, he can become that for you. he'll put effort into making sure he wins over your trust and you feel comfortable around him. he wants you to feel safe enough to not be afraid of showcasing your emotions, whether that's sadness, frustration, anger.. he likes to see it all. he does enjoy seeing his lover riled up about him lmao, since to him it shows they're passionate about the relationship. but there is this comforting and warm energy to him, where he's good at making you feel seen, and listened to.

he is the type of boyfriend who will want to stick by your side through all storms. he really values what his lovers have to say. let's say you got into an argument with him; once you've both calmed down, he might sit you down, softly take your hand and deeply gaze into your eyes while quietly listening to your side of the story. he'll want to understand your perspective and your heart.

he can be responsible as a lover. it almost feels like a task to him to fulfill his role as a boyfriend, to make you feel like you can rely on him. he wants to lead the relationship, and make you feel secure. it's very much an equal give and take, since he does seem to enjoy leaning on his partner for security at times as well. evidently, he seems to actually like a balanced relationship with no crazy power dynamics.

- hm, some heavy energy here i don't feel comfortable diving into deeply. but i can sense him realizing he has a habit of so strongly clinging to his lovers, due to abandonment issues. which can be quite common for scorpio placements.. he's scared of being left behind and replaced with someone “better”, due to him potentially not being good enough to stay with. there's some lingering fatigue and emotional baggage from the past he seems to struggle letting go of.

jake can put so much pressure on himself to satisfy his partner. he wants them to feel fulfilled and confident in the relationship and makes it his responsibility. it can weigh on him if he feels like his partner is starting to lose the spark, fall out of love with him, and especially lose their trust in him. he wants his lover to recognize how much he cares about the connection, but is self-aware enough to understand it's his own bad habits and impulsiveness that can stand in the way.

i can see him having bad habits like, having wandering eyes or being too charming and.. complementary towards women, where it can border on flirting. blurring the lines (like in his eyes it wasn't flirting but his partner sees it differently). though i can't see him straight up cheating, “superficial” things like that can still understandably rub partners the wrong way. it can easily cause discomfort, conflicts, miscommunication. this can lead to trust issues on both sides. he can just be a boyfriend who requires a lot of patience.