a/n: Lord have mercy. This is just straight porn. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing! As always requests are always open!
Summary: Eddie finds himself at a strip club one night and sees a familiar face on stage. How could he not request a dance?
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Graphic description, rough sex, Dom!Eddie,choking, swearing, being a stripper? Alcohol consumption, pet names: kitten, doll, etc. sexual tension, creampie, unprotected sex, Wrap it before you tap!
Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader stripper
Wc: 4.3k
Photo credit: N/A
Do not post my work anywhere!
Friday nights were always the busiest of your week. It was payday and everyone wanted a stress reliever for a hard week’s work. You had claimed your residency at the club a little over 7 months ago. It was pretty hard to miss the neon signs that illuminated the front of the building. A giant yellow and pink flashing neon sign etched ‘PANTHER PLAYGROUND’ with a bright pink cat that switched to a girl arching her back. On the front of the building were other neon signs in hues of blues, purples and pinks ‘Girls Girls Girls’, ‘All Nude’, ‘Live Girls’. The strip club had been located 15 minutes south of Hawkins, where you and most of the girls lived.
Plenty of graduated seniors and business men made their way there every week it seemed. Most of your shifts, much like this one, started at 10 p.m. and ended near 2 a.m. You had 5 half hour floor sets and the rest of the time was spent in the private rooms where regulars, out of towners or newbies wanted a one on one dance. While you might have been fairly new to the playground, you were the hottest ticket in town.
You had graduated over a year ago and had been the youngest girl there at a whooping nineteen. That drove everyone up the wall. It earned you the nickname ‘Babydoll’. You played on this by wearing bright and playful colors. Your signature was pink. Baby pink lipgloss, lingerie, heels, makeup, and pink glitter. The more innocent you looked the more bills you collected at the end of the night. Frills, lace, shimmer, you name it.
It had already been 12:15 a.m. and it was time for your third set of the night, except now you were on the main stage. The reflective tiles littered across were in the shape of a giant ‘T’. It seemed like a catwalk with the pole right in the middle of the stage’s junction. That was your favorite place to dance. You could easily get lost as the spotlight followed you down the aisle. Your friends often asked if you still had stage fright but it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t wait to strut out onto the stage and captivate the lively bodies in the room.
The club’s walls were bouncing from the bass and reverberation of each of the songs that played one after another. Each girl had a mix that played when they were on the main stage. Through all of the glitter and innocence, your mix consisted of rock and metal. The juxtaposition alone made the room go wild. Scanning the crowd, you knew tonight was going to be a good one. Weekends in the summer always were. “Next up, you know her, you love her. She's the Panther's girl next door. Give it up for…Babydoll!” The DJ’s voice mixed with the cheers and whistles that echoed in your ears.
You pranced up the stairs and smiled and waved at some of the familiar faces you spotted in the crowd. Twirling to get some of the tables more loud and playing with your hair that was curled and teased up. Before you planted yourself on the pole, you turned to a random table of guys you're recognized from a few years ago at Hawkins High. It was your way to start a set by blowing a glossed kiss at a new table every night.
You raised your right hand above your head and gripped the pole tight. Squeezing your thighs and arching your back so your ass was clearly pushed against the cold steel. That’s when ‘Girls Girls Girls’ by Motley Crue blasted throughout the club. Mixtures of 1’s. 5’s, and 20’s were starting to get thrown at you. Intricately swinging and grinding on the pole. Running your hands up and down your body. Bending over and arching to place yourself in positions that leave little to the imagination.
Right as you worked your way to the chorus you decided to pay the folks at the end of the catwalk some attention. Crawling on all fours, sensually, you heard praises and clapping from either side of you. But that was drowned out. Everything was drowned out as you looked up right at the front doors. The doors had opened to reveal someone who would have never expected to waltz right in.
Back in your senior year, you had shared a few classes with him. He failed almost all of them. Not because he wasn’t smart but because he struggled but no one gave a shit. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. The reason you two got along was maybe for your love of metal and rock or the fact that you actually helped him in class or the few times you bought a quarter off of him occasionally. He always called you a freak but you liked it. Liked that if you two shared things in common then you would gladly wear the name on your sleeves.
The odd thing was you had never seen him in here before, so now you were intrigued as to why he had been here. But as Vince Neil’s voice reverberated off of the walls, his eyes seemed to catch yours and a wave of shock ran through his eyes but a prominent smirk was etched on his face. This translated into a newfound confidence for you. This dance isn't for everyone anymore. It hadn’t even been for yourself, it was for him. Your eyes followed him as you picked a table not too far from the stage. Just the perfect view to catch you prancing around like a doe.
Song after song played as he still cradled his amber colored drink. Watching you dance. His eyes raking over your body, every crevice and curve. Watching the way your body moved sensually. It was now 12:45 a.m. by the time you had walked off of the main stage. Collecting any and all bills that belonged to you and stuffing them in your pink fluffy duffle bag that you use strictly for your money. Once you knew your money had been safely put away, you headed out to the floor in search of the man of the hour.
However, to your disappointment he had disappeared along with his amber colored drink. Just as you headed towards the bar in hopes if the bartender had seen him anywhere, one of the managers turned you around. “Hey babydoll, there is a private dance waiting in room 1. He also paid for extra time.” “Oh okay, how long did they want?” “Guy said he wanted an hour. Paid upfront in cash too.” The disbelief that took over your face. “Phil, you know I can’t do that.” “Sorry sweetheart, but he already paid. Plus he’s new.”
The sour taste this new guy put in your mouth could just about ruin your night. You practically have to dance for this guy until you close. Of course Phil would allow you to miss your two other stage sets for this fucking dance. You couldn’t help but be a little put off by this guy that you never even met. Who can pay for a full hour dance in cash upfront? As you approached the first door to the private rooms, you took a deep breath in to prepare yourself for the long hour you were about to endure.
There had been a switch next to the handle. It lets dancers know which room is in use and it allows the customer inside to know that you are about to come in. It works because it is too loud to hear any knocking. Your perfect manicured finger flipped the switch on and you put on your most innocent face. Slowly opening the door and slipping inside you made sure to close the door firmly to make sure the new guy could see and hear that you were ready.
You had your back to the guy, mainly so you could give yourself as much time to mentally prepare yourself. But as soon as you turned around, the most audible gasp escaped your lips. It was Eddie. He was standing there in all of his glory. Except now he had ditched the Hellfire shirt for a plain navy blue button up. Still adorning those white Reeboks. His hair was still curly and long and tamed this time. His tattoos are more prominent than ever. Especially his chest. However, his rings caught your attention. They still looked heavy on his hand as it draped over his thigh that was spreading wide open. He looked like sex on that chair.
Your mouth was wide open but no words dared to come out. This made his lips turn up into a giant smile and chuckle at your current state. “Hi babydoll, or can I call you Y/N?” You must have looked stupid. Standing there in 7 inch holographic heels. A pink metallic string bikini adorned your tits and barely covered your ass. Your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water. All you could mutter was a quiet, “Eddie.” “That’s my name sweetheart.”
Then it dawned on you, he wanted an hour’s worth of a dance. “Why are you here?” He mockingly put a hand over his heart like it had genuinely hurt his feelings. “I can’t come in and see the best dancer in all of Hawkins?” You shook your head and rephrased your question. “No I mean why are you getting a dance from me?” “Again Y/N, I wanted to see the best dancer in Hawkins.” This time he stood from the chair and you were practically at his height. No mistake, he towered over you without your heels.
“Are you sure that’s the real reason why you’re here?” He dryly laughed at your question. “I had known for a while that you worked down here. So what I saved a bit to come and get some one on one time with the “Panther’s very own girl next door, Babydoll.”’ This confession made something stir in your lower stomach. “Don’t play with me Munson.” “But that would be nice to do.” That smirk never left his face. “You always did intrigue me Y/N.” He had now been circling you, like a hungry shark. “You were a ‘freak’ like me. Quite the opposite of being a ‘girl next door’. But I can see why they like your little innocent act you put on.” You could feel his stare even when he stopped behind you.
His voice was sending you into a trance. “I always appreciated you for helping me out in class. That reflected when you would come buy from me. But you and I know both why I let you walk away with more than what you were buying.” You shook your head in fear your voice would give you away. Slowly brushing past you, he finally made his way in front of you. “Tsk, tsk sweetheart. I know you’re smarter than that.”
“What if I’m not?” This intrigued him to continue. “Then come show me how dumb you are. Maybe I can teach you a few lessons.” He finally went to sit back down in the black cushioned chair that was set up in the middle of the room. It was a very spacious chair with plenty of room to fit two people in it. His finger lightly petted his thigh, practically making your mouth water. You stood still in the place you found yourself about two minutes ago. “I guess I should get started on your dance then, wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
It was almost in sync, the way you dropped to your knees and through the small enclosed room, Panama by Van Halen eased its way into both of your ears. You could see Eddie shift in his seat. The sight of you on your knees, crawling toward him like some puppy. Your ass was sticking out in the air, practically swaying back and forth as you worked your way to the chair. You internally thanked him for always manspreading because it gave you more access.
Your hands slowly slid up his legs and firmly grasped onto his thighs. Your hands were on top of his. You used this as leverage to stand up but to bend over in his face. His eyes darted from yours, to your lips, then finally to your tits that were spilling out of your sparkly pink bikini top. It didn’t help that your nipples were hard and he wished he could just reach out and suck them into his mouth. He could see your lips were moving but he didn’t hear the words that came out. “What’s the matter Eddie,” you pouted, “cat got your tongue?” You giggled and turned around switching hands to balance yourself on the arms of the chair.
You bent forward, folding in half. Your arms graced down your legs holding onto the back of your calves. He had the perfect view of your ass that was barely covered by the sorry excuse you called ‘bottoms’. He knew he could reach out and just grope you to his heart’s content, but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t believe that Eddie wanted you. Well at the very least, wanted a dance from you.
You spread your legs and grazed your thighs with your fingers and pulled at them. You could hear a low groan come from the older guy from behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that etched itself on your face. The thing about big heels was being able to work more on the balls of your feet. You spun around to face his front and could see the strained erection that had been growing by the second in his tight black jeans.
His eyes followed your every body roll and arch. Teasing was the purpose of your job and teasing was what you would do to this man. Pushing yourself back and onto the floor, you found yourself in the position you first started in. You put your left hand behind you to support yourself, while you sucked on your right thumb. A ‘pop’ rang through the room as it flowed through Eddie’s ears like music. You drug your fingertips down your neck and in between the valley of your breasts. His stare lingered lower to your navel and your clothed cunt.
Your hair flipped as you rolled away and farther from him to play with yourself. You gripped your tits as your back arched from the black tiles. His groans and growls were enough to convince you to give him some attention. He was clearly aching and you wanted to help him. You climbed into his lap and made yourself right at home on his lap. There was a change in his eyes. It was dark. It was lust. His hands gripped your hips tight as you ground your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace.
“So what does a man like you do to have enough cash for an hour dance with Hawkins babydoll?” Your fake lashes bat at him and you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout that showed the small golden flakes in your pink lip gloss. His hands were rough and you could feel the calluses on each of his fingers. “Well, I played guitar for a while, but those calluses you feel are from all the cars I work on sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide and all you could was grind down harder at this new information.
“You like sweetheart? Like that I work a real man’s job. That I earn money so I can come here and see your pretty body dance for me?” This man knew exactly how to make you feel like putty in his hands. You could feel his erection as you were grinding over him and it took everything in you to not whimper at the friction that you were feeling on your clit. But he wasn’t wrong and that was what made you wet. He could read you easily.
Your hands made their purchase in your hair as you swivel your hips on him and bounce. His hands were working their way from your hips to right under your breasts. He couldn’t take it anymore. You were in his lap, practically naked, just begging.
He worked his way to your back where the strings of your top were resting. In one fell motion, your top had fallen down. “Eddie!” “I’m sorry doll, I couldn’t help myself. You’re fucking grinding that cunt on my cock and you look fuckin’ incredible.” “You could have asked,” was all you could reply with. “Don’t tell me that.” His hand reached up to your left tit and squeezed hard. Finally you made your first sound of the night. “That’s it baby, mewl for me. Pur for me like a good kitten.” Out of nowhere you felt his harsh smack to your other tit. A whine filled his ears and this only caused him to do it again.
“You dirty girl, you like it when I slap those tits of yours.” All you could do was nod and gasp as his hot breath caused your nipple to harden even more. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud as you arched your back into him. Your body was begging him for more. He obliged and engulfed your nipple into his mouth. He sucked and pulled it his teeth causing you to moan and buck your hips into his. “Eddie–please.” Nothing was said except that slap that was given to your ass. “You’ll take what I give you, right baby? Because you’re good and good girls wait.”
You nodded and sighed as he switched to the other nipple and rolled the left one in between his fingers. Your hands shakily lowered as you undid the sides of your bottoms and threw them across the room. Here you were in Eddie Munson’s lap, naked and grinding down on his cock like a cat in heat. “Look at you all needy and ready for me, yea?” “Yes Eddie!” His hand wrapped your throat as he sat back to watch you. “Look at you, come one show me how bad you want it.”
You pouted at him but picked up the pace as you rocked back and forth in his lap. The direct contact of the denim and your bare clit made you gasp and whine.
Hisses came from his throat the more your soaking cunt swept over his hard cock. “Just like that Y/N, feel good on me.” “Fuck me Eddie. Please, I need you.” He shushed you and his left hand made its way to your hips to stop you. “Get up,” he commanded. You did as you were told and rubbed your thighs together to generate some sort of friction. He was making work on his jeans. Your eyes were glued on his hands as they slid his zipper down and you couldn’t help but note the mess you made on the dark denim. “Would you look at that? You made quite the mess on my jeans.”
He slid them down along with his boxers. They sat at the mid of his thigh. Your lips parted in sight of his throbbing cock. It bobbed up and hit his stomach. The tip was an angry red and a prominent vein that traveled down all the way to where his balls hung heavy. Little balck curls adorned his base. Well trimmed but still enough to turn you on. There were a few times in the past you caught sight of his happy trail but nothing like this.
His head was already leaking precum and what you wouldn’t give to taste him. But right here and now in this moment you were too needy. You need his cock in you and to fuck you like you were his. You wasted no time in slotting yourself back onto his lap. You took your right hand and ran your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on your fingers. Pumping his cock in your hand, you made sure to get him nice and wet to take all of you.
“Jesus H. Christ Y/N.” His eyes remained on your hand pumping his cock that was covered in your slick. You leaned in close to his ear, raising your hips right above his tip. “Is this okay with you,” you asked as you licked his earlobe and sank down on him at the same time. A loud ‘yes’ was your answer as you took all of him. You felt so full and so fucking good. The way his cock felt in you, felt like it could have been in your stomach.
“Feel that Eddie? Feel you so deep in me, feel so fucking good.” Your words were coming out in slurs as you slowly raised your hips and brought them back down, feeling every vein and curve. It was as if you were made to take him, all of him. The way his hard cock rubbed against your spongy walls and he was able to hit that spot deep within you. You continued to fuck him slowly as your clit rubbed against the base of his shaft.
He had both of his hands on the side of your torso to guide you up and down on him with ease. The pain of his fingers translated into pleasure as you kept going. Taking a break from riding him you rocked back and forth in his lap. Grinding like before but this time he felt every move of your hips. “Yea baby, work those fuckin’ hips just like the little slut you are.” “M’not a slut,” you huffed out. “No? If you’re not a slut, then why are you fucking me like one? Fucking one of your customers?” You shook your head and continued to grind on his cock. “Hey look at me when I’m talking to you,” he grabbed your face, causing your lips to form into a pout. “I said I'm not a slut.”
He wasn’t having any of it and his hands immediately went down to your ass. You took your hips and raised them as he started fucking up into you. The force and the angle at which he was fucking up caused you to scream out. His balls were slapping up into your ass causing the sound of skin slapping to mix in with the music and your moans. “You’re not a slut huh, guess I need to fuck you like one then.” He was driving up into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot that made your legs go weak.
Your hands made purchase on his shoulders as you tried to meet his thrusts. “See you say your not a slut, yet try to fuck me back.” Whines and moans were escaping your lips as you bounced up and down on his shaft. “Feels s’good Eddie.” “I know it does.” Your right hand slipped in between the both of you and started to rub tight circles on your clit.
He noticed and started fucking up into you harder to get you there. “C’mon baby, I want you to cum. Cum all over this cock.” His voice, smooth as velvet. His hands were rough. His cock was fucking you so good. It was all becoming too much and you couldn’t hang on anymore. “I know you can do it Y/N, give me your cum.” His voice pleading you sent you over the edge as your orgasm came crashing over you. “Fuck Eddie!” Hot tears spilled down your face and mixed with your glitter.
You could tell he was close in the way his pace was starting to become erratic. He took you and slammed you down onto his cock as his cum shot up into you. “That’s it, take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” Causing you to gasp at how much he was coming. He kept you there tight until his load was completely emptied in you.
Neither of you dared to move from your position as the both of you panted and tried to catch your breaths. “I think that was an hour’s worth of a private dance.” You looked up and searched his eyes. It was the same old Eddie that had to make you laugh. You chuckled and leaned your forehead against his. “You’re kinda sweaty.” “So are you,” he retorted. He checked his watch and it had already been 1:12 a.m.
“Why do you get dressed, go do whatever you need to do to clock out and you can come back to my place and smoke. You know for old time’s sake?” You smiled and nodded at the idea he proposed. “Wait!” Before he could ask you what was wrong, his lips were enclosed in yours. ‘Mmm’. You captured his top lip in your bottom lip as you leaned into him. Pulling back you looked him in the eyes, “I couldn’t help myself, I’ve been wanting to do that since senior year.” He just smiled and gave you pecks all over your face.
You tried your hardest to get off of his lap without making a complete mess of him or yourself. While he situated himself back in his jeans, you tied your suit back together as neatly as possible. Trying to make it look like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by the town freak. “Alrighty, I’m going to be right back. Collect my things, pay out the club and I’ll be out front!” He smiled at your cuteness and petted your cheek. “Sounds good Y/N, I’ll be at the bar waiting.” You turned to head out at the door and you could feel his stare on your ass, “I’ll be the short one in pink.”
All Eddie could think was that some things never change.
♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, p-v, oral fem!receiving, a tad of overstimulation,
♡ Summary: As Robo said: Logan would turn your plushies around before fucking you raw btw, he told me himself—pulls em off to the side with a gruff little “You don’t wanna see this next part bub” before turning you every way BUT loose.
♡ Note: @robo-writing MADE A POST THAT MADE ME BOTH SCREAM CHUCKLE AND INSPIRED TO CREATE THIS PIECE. robo is also one of my favs so check them out too!
You wanted to take it slow with Logan. Even if every bone in your body wanted to jump his, you actually liked him and didn’t want to do anything you believed could sabotage your budding relationship. This was a mutual yet unspoken understanding between the two of you.
He had every intention of taking things slow with you–make his intentions clear. Having met you while you bartended at his favorite spot, you had seen him pick up and take a few girls home. You were different, and he wanted to make that clear.
Still, every time Logan dropped you off at your apartment, it became more charged. After your first date, he simply dropped you off. After your second and third date, it ended in short yet sensual kisses. The tension was building the entirety of your fourth date. When Logan had you pressed against your apartment building door, your moans were smothered by the passionate open mouth kisses. And by god, you wanted to give in, but mother nature had other plans for you. Despite either of your wishes, you called it a night.
Your fifth date was at a drive in-movie. You brought the blankets that were laid out in the bed of Logan’s truck. The both of you admittedly got a handsy during the movie, practically missing the end of the movie.
As Logan parked in the front of your building, he carried the folded blankets that you brought to your building door. Before he could offer to bring the blankets up for you, you muttered the four words he had been waiting to hear for almost a month.
“You wanna come up?”
Logan couldn't help but perk up at that question. Your voice was as sweet as honey, and the soft glow of the porch light framed your face perfectly. He tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile when you invited him up.
"Course," he said, his voice rough and low as he tried to contain the lewd thoughts that started flooding his brain.
As you brought him up the elevator, the tension between the two of you was thicker than the blankets he carried. You needed him–need him bad.
As soon as you entered the apartment, you told Logan that he could put the blankets on the couch. He haphazardly tossed them on the cushions but didn’t take his eyes off you. The intensity in his eyes was betraying the restraint he was trying to maintain for weeks.
Barely a beat afterward, you were all over each other. The kiss was sloppy, your tongue immediately submitting to his. Logan’s hand roamed slightly under your sweater, fingers pressing against the warmth of your skin.
Stumbling backward toward your bedroom, Logan kept his lips on your, drinking in the taste that he desperately wanted–hell, needed. As he laid you down, he didn't break the kiss, slowly trailing his hand up your thigh. His lips found their way to your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.
“Been thinkin’ about this all night, darlin’,” he growled against your neck as he hovered over you. His grip on your thigh tightened, earning a gasp from your lips. “Just like that, baby, I need to hear ya.”
Logan’s other hand hiked up farther near your head until his hand began crushing something soft, something smaller than a pillow. Still focused on marking the skin over your pulse, he moved his hand again just to squish another item, almost losing his grip on the bed.
With a hint of frustration, Logan’s eyes glared open. His stare was immediately met with glossy, black buttoned eyes of a brown cow and the cheery eyes and blushing face of…maybe a dumpling, he thought.
He paused his lips’ freezing against your skin. Logan pulled away slightly to get a better look at what was under his hand. He chuckled, his voice gravelly as he looked down at the squished yet irate octopus.
You sighed due to the loss of contact, swiveling to see what had caught Logan’s attention over the woman he was making out with. He had a mixed expression of confusion and amusement.
“You find my plushies entertaining?” you softly giggled, propping yourself up by your elbows.
“I just…” Logan’s voice was gruff with a smirk as he sized up the 6–no, 8–plushies eyeing him down. The cow, dumpling, octopus, platypus, jellyfish, hot sauce bottle, bumblebee, and mushroom propped against your pillows all had their eyes on Logan, silently judging him. “I just didn’t expect an audience. Your little posse is a bit intimidating,” he teased, looking down at you with a cheeky grin.
“Didn’t think you were one to falter under pressure,” you chuckled. From your back, you turned to look at your plushies. You gave him a tantalizing look as you grabbed the angry octopus from his hand, shaking it in his face. “They’re just here to be cute.”
“Yeah, they’re cute.” Logan’s attention was diverted back to your exposed abdomen from your slightly lifted sweater. A deep growl emitted from his chest as he lifted your sweater further to reveal your plum colored bra. His large hand cupped your right breast as a wry smile grew on his lips. “But what I’m planning on doing with you…it’s far from cute, sweetheart.”
Logan was quick to remove your sweater, throwing it toward the mushroom, causing it to fall off the bed entirely. He dipped back down to your lips with a renewed passion. Dropping the octopus on your nightstand, you were quick to tug at Logan’s t-shirt, practically begging to lose it.
Ripping it off, you could feel your arousal pool at the sight of his broad, hairy chest and sculpted form. Over your head, he tossed his shirt. It landed over the eyes of the soft platypus, but you didn’t notice. You were too enveloped in the hot kisses Logan was lying between the valley of breasts down to the waist of your leggings. His rough hands massaged your breasts until they popped out of their constraints.
Ragged short moans fell from your lips as he grazed and twerked your hardened nipples. Your hands raked over his larger hands before moving to his taunt shoulders, nails scraping his shoulder blades. Logan grunted as he felt your nails rake across his shoulders, his darkened eyes locking on you, hungry and filled with lust.
“Love the pretty moans you make for me, baby,” Logan groaned, his hands moving to the sides of your leggings to wiggle you out of them. Taking your panties with them, you were exposed to Logan. The glisten and scent of your arousal was too tempting.
Feeling his warm breath against your aching cunt, you inched forward, desperate for any form of contact, “Please, Logan. I need to feel you…”
Without another word, Logan applied a heavy striped lick against your cunt all the way to your pulsing clit. A stuttered moan escaped your lips as Logan buried his face into your cunt, wrapping his arms around your soft thighs to pull you closer and keep you legs opened wide.
“Hm, so fuckin’ sweet. All for me, sweetheart?” he muttered against your cunt, the vibrations causing a shiver to run up your spine. You almost missed what he said as tongue lap and darted into your sopping core at a speed that had to be sinful.
You could barely get the words out. Your mind was reeling with such intense pleasure that Logan could only grab your attention again by nipping on your inner thigh. You quickly winced
“You gotta speak up, darlin’. I gotta hear you,”
“All for you, Lo-Logan! Because of you!” Despite your volume, your voice came off small and pathetic as your need for Logan grew.
Rewarding you, Logan pressed a harsh kiss against your clit, sending shockwaves through you. Your hips tried to buck but were secured firmly by the strength of Logan. He was practically making out with your cunt, his nose adding just enough pressure to your clit to run you like a facet.
“So goddamn pretty, so perfect,” he softly breathed against you, darkened eyes temporarily meeting your lust-blown ones like man possessed. Your head tilted back in ecstasy, his stare too intense.
Your finger interlocked with your comforter and his hair. The grip Logan had to keep around your thighs only grew harsher as you thrashed around him. It was a vicious cycle. Your elevated moans drove Logan to delve deeper which only made your thrashing worse and your moans more boisterous. Logan knew you’d learn better once you woke up with the bruised prints in the morning. You knew you’d cherish them.
From your tightened grip on his hair and the sheets, Logan knew you were near your edge. His name was spilling out of your lips as if it was the only word you knew now. Coming up for air didn’t matter; Logan was prepared to drown in your soaked core.
Your climax was almost violent, your legs quiver as you released. Logan lapped it up like a dying dog, the taste of you making him moan. He couldn’t help but rut against the edge of your bed as he licked you clean through your high. The friction was welcomed but not enough.
Your body relaxed as you tried taking in deep breaths to regain a semblance of control. Before releasing your thighs, Logan affixed one last bold brush to your ruined cunt for good measure. Your cheeks were flushed as you looked down at him again. His eyes locked with yours, dark and intense. His eyes seemed almost feral, his need for you evident. He needed more–more of you, all of you.
Logan slowly kissed a path up your body, pausing momentarily to admire the indented prints he had left on your hips. He relished the taste of your skin, his lips leaving a trail of light kisses along your thighs, hips, your stomach, your chest. Your body was still quivering
Finally, his face, still damp with your arousal, was mere inches away from yours, a smug smile on his lips. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before he spoke, his voice a low, rough whisper.
“You okay, darlin’?”
You huffed into a small smile. It floored you how he’d asked, knowing damn well he could still feel your toes curling and your leg involuntarily shaking. It floored you further how badly you still wanted him.
Kissing the corners of your mouth, darting your tongue to gather the remainder of your arousal from his face, you hand grazed his growing bulge. You received a strained grunt from Logan.
“Why do you still have these on?” The sound of your rough and sultry voice, your question–it only made the strain in his jeans worse.
Standing and exposing his full physique, he was quick to remove his jeans and briefs. Your eyes went wide as the sight of his thick, engorged cock, the tip already leaking down a vein.
Logan chuckled lowly at the sight of your reaction. Seeing your widened eyes and parted lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
“So goddamn greedy, baby. Didn’t get enough already?” he mocked, laying down to cage you under the weight of his body again.
In response, you pulled him closer, your lips attached to his neck. Your tongue smoothed over every nip. Logan growled, his cock finding some relief from the friction against your hip.
Logan's eyes softened as he was again face-to-face again with the soulful eyes of your cow, slightly tilted on its side. Its fallen comrades were on the floor, preemptively averting their own innocent eyes.
He spoke gruffly, under his breath, “Uh, yeah, you don’t wanna see this next part, bub.” He picked up the cow and spun it around, leaning it against the headboard.
Your plushies didn’t see it, and you could barely handle it. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes as Logan continued to roughly push into you climax after climax after climax. From your back to your stomach to your side, your body was completely coated with sweat and pleasure. Hearing you moan, beg, and whimper only drove Logan to push you further and further till the only word you could conjure was his name.
“It’s not too much, sweetheart, yeah?” Logan’s warm breath groaned against the back of your neck, raising the hairs on it. His bulky arm hooked around to belly, trapping your pelvis against his. He had slowed his tempo in comparison to the previous two rounds, but he hadn’t been this deep. With his leg The tip of his cock was pressing faint kisses against your cervix. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he could witness your face contort in continued pleasure. “You can take it, baby. Taking me so fuckin’ good all night.”
Your voice was gravelly–surely going to be gone in the morning–as your exhausted eyes peered toward Logan, “I-I can’t, Lo-gan…not again.”
“C’mon, just one more for me, baby. Fuckin’ sinful how good you feel,” he murmured against your flushed cheek.
You nodded as you watched Logan hand move down to your overstimulated clit. The slightest pressure was enough to make your soft walls abruptly clench around his cock with a lusty ring. Rolling your hips against his, Logan was close to losing it. A growl escaped Logan’s chest as he picked up his pace–a stuttered pace.
“That’s it, baby. Let it happen. Drench my cock.”
“Fuck, Logan!” You cried, your entire low body trembling against his. Your own arousal dripped down to your thigh, dampening your blanket.
Logan pressed your arched back closer to his hairy chest. With one final thrust, he was incoherently grunting before staining your walls with his seed. Filled with his warmth, you felt your body completely relax–finally.
Logan's breathing was ragged against your neck. The only things that filled the room were your and Logan’s shared pants and the scent of your mixed arousals. He held you like that for a few moments, his heart pounding against your back. Logan was now having second thoughts about ravishing so rashly for your first time.
“Too much?” Logan asked, his voice tired and laced with concern as his hand softly massaged your side.
You wrapped your hand behind you to caress Logan’s cheek. A weak smile formed on your lips, “No, no…it was…” You couldn’t find the words. Your brain was foggy with gratification. Instead, you reached for your irate octopus on your nightstand. Quickly inverting the plushie, the octopus now had a gleeful expression.
Handing it to Logan, he gruffly chuckled, accepting your response. He planted a chaste kiss on your cheek with a satisfied smile. It was just the beginning for you two–or the ten of you.
a/n: I wrote this at 3 AM and I'm also pretty sure I'm sick, so bare with me.
Based on this: ask
You know Logan can't stand you, but it doesn't stop the way you feel about him. Your mind recognizes the hate in his eyes whenever you're in the same room, but your heart can't. Finally, you come to terms with the truth: it's never gonna happen.
However, your newfound resolve is flipped on its head when you're forced to go undercover with him as newlyweds. Your new wedding ring is a noose and you don't know how you'll survive it or him.
You stumble forward as someone knocks into you from behind. Their shoulder jams painfully into your ribcage and you trip into the wall in front of you. “Shit,” you hiss, rubbing your back and turning around to glare at whoever it was. You figure it's a kid skipping class, imagine your surprise when it’s a fully grown man practically growling at you.
“Where the hell am I?” He darts forward, grabbing you by the arms and jerking you towards him. “Who are you people?” You’re stunned into silence, eyes wide with shock as he pushes your spine into the wall behind you.
You recognize him now. This is the man who was with Rogue in the truck you, Ororo, and Summers rescued. The only reason you don’t toss him across the room and rip his spine out through his throat is because you know how disoriented he is. Though, with the way his claws threaten to pierce your skin, you are tempted to.
“Ah,” a familiar and welcomed voice sounds out from beside you both. “I see you’ve met Flux.” Charles rarely ever uses your actual name, mainly introducing you through your X-Men persona. It’s a preference of yours.
The man’s eyes dart between you and Charles, and your own turn into slits the longer he keeps his tight grip on you. “Wanna let me go now?” You demand voice practically a growl. Your patience has never been wonderful, but he’s really working on your last nerve.
He blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. With an almost regretful look, he lets you go. You sigh in irritation, straightening your shirt out and shoving past the corner he’s pushed you into. “Who the hell is this?” You snap, moving to stand behind Charles.
He gives you an apologetic look, “I’m not sure. He hasn’t introduced himself yet.” He gives the man an expectant look. Instead of answering he glances around, and scoffs.
“What is this, summer camp? You people don’t need to know me, I don’t need to know you. Just show me how to get the fuck out, alright?” Finding Charles’ school had been heaven on earth. He’d provided you with a home and a haven you never thought you would have the privilege of. You’d never shown anger in the face of his guidance or generosity. But many have.
You can tell, as much as the man in front of you might believe otherwise, he’s going to be enjoying the comfort of Charles’ protection soon. You move to the side, leaving them to their conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping the kids away from the newest form of entertainment. You usher them towards their classes, despite their reluctance.
The other members of the team soon join you all, introducing themselves. “Storm, Cyclops,” he scoffs a little at Scott’s name and you feel a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. He turns towards you, brows furrowed inquisitively, “Flux?”
“Matter manipulation,” you explain bluntly. He shrugs his shoulders giving you a blank look. Sighing you hold out your hand and gesture to Charles’ desk. With a flick of your wrist, it melts into an unnatural form of liquid wood. Logan’s eyes widen and you can’t help but finally let the full smile form on your lips. “Flux was just what fourteen-year-old me thought fit best.”
He nods, turning back towards Charles with a smarmy grin. “And what do they call you, wheels?” Your eyes widen with shock and an unbidden laugh surges forth. Charles sends you a playful glare and you have to turn around to keep from laughing more.
You’d thought you wouldn’t like this one. It’s always bad when there’s a member on the team you don’t get along with. It’s not common, but it has happened. They simply keep you separated if they can. The school is wonderful, but it’s not perfect. Not everyone will like each other. You think you and Logan will get along just fine, though.
It started slow, barely noticeable at first. You didn’t know him well enough to understand that the way he treats you is completely different from how he treats everyone else. Where your greetings are brushed off with cold shoulders or the occasional glare, others at the very least get a brief mumble of hello. When you speak, you can practically feel the irritation wafting off of him in waves. You taste his hatred in every interaction.
There’s no exact moment you can pinpoint where you went wrong. Sure, your introduction to one another was rocky at best. But he’d nearly thrown Jean across the room when they first met and they got along just fine.
You’ve thought about it, for far too long, about what makes you different than the others. Is it your smile? The pitch of your voice? Of course, you understand that sometimes there are just people that you meet and something inside you hates them. There’s never a true explanation behind the feeling, just instinct.
But you can’t place what about you would make someone so guarded, so mean. It feels like such a childish word, like too simple of a way to explain Logan. The very least you know about him is that he can never be summed up with the word simple. There are secrets buried deep within him, some he knows, others he doesn’t. You can’t just slap a label on him and walk away.
More often than not, though, you feel like you’re talking to one of your childhood bullies and not a team member. Because, despite your own feelings towards him, at the end of the day you are team members. There’s no getting around it. From that connection comes, what should be, a base level of respect.
You’re both in charge of protecting one another and looking out for each other on the field. That means when you put on the suit, you’re putting aside petty grievances. But he seems incapable of that as well.
You’ve spent mornings practicing your greetings, trying to tone down your cheeriness or inflect your voice with a more welcoming timbre. You’ve changed how you dress, how you do your hair, even your makeup. And at the end of it all, you still got the same miserable look and distinct feeling of worthlessness. All of the change has been temporary, you are a creature of habit. Inevitably, you slide back into the same habits and styles that make you, you.
You feel stupid, trying to change yourself to better fit someone else's tastes. Especially when it’s someone who so clearly despises you. It’s not how you carry yourself, how you look, it’s the mere fact you exist that bothers him. At least, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to in all your months of experimenting.
It truly shouldn’t bother you so much. There’s always going to be people who don’t like you. There’s nothing you can do about it. And you’ve never had that desire to change other's opinions on you. But something about Logan has dug its claws under your skin and has refused to let go.
You can’t get him out of your head, even when you feel like you hate him, he’s all you think about. You’ve considered asking Jean to use her abilities to somehow dig him out of your brain and keep him out. But you don’t think that would work either.
You step into the kitchen and nearly freeze in the doorway. Logan sits at the island, back to you as he reads the newspaper. You find yourself lightening your steps, quieting your breath. You make yourself as inconspicuous and convenient as possible. Every time you catch yourself doing something like this, you hate yourself just a little bit more.
You shouldn’t have to alter parts of yourself to better fit someone else’s needs. You slip along the tiles, your socked feet slamming into the corner of the counter as you pass it. “Shit!” You shout, doubling over as you clutch your throbbing toes.
So much for being inconspicuous.
Logan’s head shoots up in shock as he glares over his paper at you. You let out a strained whimper, reluctantly releasing your foot and hobbling towards the coffee pot. You’ve taken more bullets than you count, and somehow that still hurt worse.
You can’t just ignore him, you feel his stare burning into your back, and it feels too dickish-too much like him, to not say anything. “Morning,” you mutter over your shoulder, barely looking at him. You pour your coffee, trying to ignore how daunting the silence seems. You might as well be alone in the room for all the attention he’ll grant you.
You feel like a beggar, on hands and knees just for a simple hello. Ever since his first night here, he’s been so aloof with you. It’s only devolved since then. You sigh, slamming the mug onto the counter. Something in you has snapped this morning and it’s not just the bones in your foot. You’re sick of this.
You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s not a toddler, he doesn’t deserve to be coddled and catered to. He’s a grown man, an X-Men for fuck’s sake. What he needs, is to learn a little emotional regulation.
You turn, mouth open and sucking in a deep breath as you prepare your speech. The island is empty as you face it, his stool in the same place it had been while he was on it. The paper lies abandoned, even his nearly full mug is still on the granite.
You scoff, snapping your jaw shut and rolling your eyes. “Jesus,” you mutter to yourself. Wonderful, even the same room is too much for him now. Something bitter has been forming in your mind. A rage building from weeks of unprompted cruel behavior.
Yet, somehow, the thing that pushes you over the edge from interest to resentment is the fact that he didn’t say good morning back.
You teach history at the school, but the majority of your role at the mansion is to train children with powers similar to yours. You’ve never met a mutant who had such a broad scope with their abilities as you do. Some can turn water to ice, control the blood running through someone’s veins, or make the air around them a solid block. But you’ve yet to meet one who manipulates anything with matter the way you do.
Still, for training, you deal with the unreliable, untameable, and generally more dangerous abilities. And sometimes for training, you work with other teachers and let your kids practice on each other. It’s a rotating schedule, and unfortunately, the week you’ve decided you hate him, you’re partnered with Logan for training.
You’ve got the entirety of Charles’ backyard, which is essentially the size of a football field. It’s a lot of room for accidents and accidental misfires. You stand in front of the pond, admittedly a risky choice with these kids, and direct them all to their partners.
“Remember, the goal of this isn’t to maim each other,” you give a particularly pointed glare towards Billy. He’s caused a lot of problems lately with his fires. “It’s just to learn how to wield your abilities to your advantage, to protect yourself and your team.”
You look to Logan, seeing if he wants to add anything or contribute to the class in some way. He just keeps his arms crossed, glowering at all the children like he’s imagining skewering them on his claws. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the kids. “Let's start with the hand-to-hand maneuvers we went over yesterday before we practice with our abilities.”
“Why don’t you show us?” Your head whips towards Billy and you can’t help the sneer on your lips. He’s sat on the ground, legs crossed leisurely over each other. He doesn’t have a care in the world as he taunts you.
“What?” You grit out, glaring at him.
“Show us what a balanced fight should look like between mutants. You and Logan,” he nods to the aforementioned man. Logan just quirks a brow, glancing at you before turning back to Billy.
“I don’t think-”
“Fine.” You gape at Logan as he tugs his jacket off. He shrugs as he looks at you, moving towards the middle of the field. Of course, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and pummel you. You’re sure that he’s just been waiting for an excuse to fight you.
“If that’s what you want,” you mutter bitterly. You pull off your sweatshirt and start walking towards him.
“Your cuffs,” Billy calls out from behind you. The other students all watch the interaction with rapt attention. They’re practically salivating at the chance to see you two fight each other. Meanwhile, Billy just seems like he wants to see someone bleed.
The metal cuffs around your wrists are the only thing that stops you from leveling the entire school. Your abilities are so tightly entwined with your emotions that one unlucky bout of anger can lead you to vaporizing everyone around you.
They dull your abilities just enough to still be useful but not deadly. You haven’t taken them off in years. And perhaps it’s wrong to lean so heavily on them for protection, but you have. That’s your cross to bear. You don’t even want to picture what will happen if you open that dam.
“What?” Billy shrugs, sending you a sharp smirk. “How are we supposed to trust you, if you can’t even use your own damn abilities?” He snorts and narrows his eyes at you, “How the hell did you even become an X-Men, Flux?” His name rolls off your tongue with a sharpened venom.
He oozes hatred and a burning resentment that catches you off guard. It’s too much to process the insults he’s hurling at you and the sudden one-eighty in his personality. You don’t even hear Logan coming until his fist is wrapped in Billy’s collar and he’s yanking him off his feet.
He dangles him, just a couple of inches, off the ground, teeth practically bared at the kid. “Wanna keep talking, mouth?”
“Log-” You’re cut off as a fireball shoots out of Billy’s palm and explodes against Logan’s gut. You gasp, throwing up a wall in front of the other kids so it can’t hurt them. “All right,” you call out sternly. “Everyone inside,” you demand, pointing the other kids back towards the manor.
You linger with Logan, who still has Billy dangling from his fist, only he looks even more pissed off now. Anyone else, and they’d be dust at Billy’s feet. But Logan isn’t anyone else and the only collateral seems to be his shirt.
Not that you mind the view.
Billy hasn’t been here long enough to know what Logan’s abilities are, though. You don’t think he actually knew he could heal. The thought alone is worrying enough that you don’t force Logan to let him go. “We need to get him to Charles,” when Logan doesn’t move you put more force behind your voice, “now.”
Logan lets out a low huff before placing Billy back on his own two feet. He doesn’t let him go far, though, keeping his hand around the back of his neck and dragging him forward. You follow behind them, making sure he doesn’t rip him to pieces before Charles can speak with him.
You sit outside Charles’ office, fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh as you stare at the mahogany walls in front of you. The red velvet of the seat is too soft and you find yourself slipping to the edge every few seconds. It’s too soft, too luxurious, your back aches the longer you wait.
Charles had instructed both you and Logan to wait for him to finish up with Billy. It’s been nearly an hour, though, and you’re growing restless. You can tell Logan feels the same way. He’s pacing the hall like a caged lion about to rip the arm off its keeper.
“How are you?” You blurt out, desperate for something to fill the silence. He stops abruptly, whipping around to face you. You flinch back slightly at the intense glare he’s sporting. “Your stomach, I mean,” you gesture towards the scorch marks on his shirt, the soot on his abs.
It’s been a practice in self-control to not just be staring at his wonderfully sculpted muscles flexing this whole time. You’re pleasantly surprised with how well you’ve been doing so far. Though, now with him facing you, you’re finding it incredibly hard to meet his eye. He’s such an imposing figure, especially when he’s standing over you like this.
“Fine,” he barks out, turning back around and effectively ending the conversation. Your eyes narrow and you scoff, god, why do you try?
The door swings open and you expect Billy to come running out crying with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead, you hear the familiar whirl of Charles wheels as he rolls into the hall. He faces you and Logan, a strained smile on his face.
“Where’s Billy?” You slowly get to your feet, peering into his office. Your confusion only grows when you find it empty.
“He’s away from the other children for now. He’ll need private lessons before we allow him near them again. And if that doesn’t work, we have no choice but to expel him.” You can tell it hurts Charles to say that.
He does genuinely want the best for these kids. He wants mutants to have a home, a place where they can be themselves without fear of retaliation. Sometimes, though, it doesn’t work out. There’s nothing wrong with that, you all try your best to help the kids. But some of them have been so twisted by the world around them that there’s no undoing the damage. When they pose a risk the way Billy does, the other kids come first.
Logan scoffs with distaste, stalking closer to Charles. “He tried to kill me, fucking tried to get Flux to take her cuffs off.” He gestures towards you, for once, though, you don’t feel like you’re being attacked. Even he can understand the dangers of that demand is idiotic. It’s clear Billy only wanted to watch everyone around him get hurt, he didn’t care about the consequences.
Charles holds up a pacifying hand, nodding his head and dismissing Logan’s concerns. “I’m quite aware of what happened, Logan. But Billy is my responsibility and he’s not the reason I needed to talk to you both.”
He rolls back into his office, expecting you both to follow him. You fall in line behind him, taking a seat at his desk. Logan takes another minute to join you both, a reluctant scowl on his face as he sits beside you. Charles waves his hand, the door closing and providing you all with a little bit more privacy.
He reaches into a drawer on his desk, pulling out a thin manilla folder. He pushes it towards both you and Logan. You share a confused look with Logan before flipping the file open. There are a few pictures of a stereotypical suburban neighborhood. Bright green laws, uniform driveways, each house looks the same as the last.
There are a few more pictures, all of them taken from an awkward distance that makes it hard to determine what you’re looking at. You pass the pictures to Logan and shake your head at Charles. “I don’t understand, what is all this?”
“Your next mission,” he informs you both with a strained smile.
Logan’s head shoots up, eyes narrowing in on Charles. “Excuse me?” He demands, his voice a growl more than anything.
“There have been some disturbing rumors about this neighborhood. Mentions of a possible mutant trafficking ring being conducted behind closed doors. Normally, I would dismiss such claims. Oftentimes these are just ways to bait and snatch mutants. However, my own attempts at telepathic investigation have been thwarted. Even with Cerebro, I can’t seem to breach the neighborhood.”
“Something’s blocking you?” You ask, snatching the pictures back from Logan to get a better look. He tosses the folder back on the desk, muttering something you can’t hear.
“Or someone. I’m worried there might be some truth to these rumors. And since I can’t find a safe way in, I need your help. You only need to do some reconnaissance. The only problem is how gated the community is. They’re not going to let anyone in unless they live there.”
Charles gives you both a cheekily expectant look. The truth is so hard to swallow that you almost can’t process it. “No,” you mutter, shaking your head and smiling, waiting for the punchline. When one doesn’t come you get up from your seat and give him a disbelieving look. “You want us undercover?”
Charles pulls out a key and smiles widely, “Congratulations on your new home, newlyweds.”
Logan shoots up from his seat, it wobbles precariously, nearly toppling to the ground. “You want me to move into a house with her?” He spits out the sentence like it pains him to even have it in his mouth. A disbelieving smile spread across your cheeks, sardonic laughter slipping through parted lips. “Why can’t I do it with Jean? Or better yet you just get some other asshole to play her husband?”
Your heart stutters to a stop and you quickly rip your eyes off the pair. The stung worse than you think it should. Your heart aches, each beat painful. You feel like someone’s punched through your chest and ripped at all the tender bits.
“I have chosen you,” Charles loses all humor from his voice. He is stern, like a father scolding his child, as he speaks to Logan. “And that’s the end of it. Besides, I don’t suppose that Jean’s fiance would appreciate her playing house with another man.” He places heavy emphasis on fiance, enough to get Logan to purse his lips and look away from him.
You speak up, your voice a surprise to them both. You claw through the lump in your throat, ignoring the hot burn behind your eyes. “I’m not doing this. Especially not with him,” you force the words out, wiping roughly at your cheeks. “Shit,” you hiss, looking down and trying to hide the tears that have slowly trickled down.
You don’t allow either of them to argue, running out of the door and ignoring the calls of your name behind you. You can’t do this. Can’t pretend to be in love with Logan, not when he hates you. Not when it’s so close to the truth.
Evidently, Charles didn't feel like giving either of you a choice.
You drum your fingers along the door handle. The cab of the truck rattles as the trailer drags along behind you. The trees have begun to thin out on the road, and more shopping centers pop up than you’ve seen this whole trip. It’s the how you know you’re getting closer, that and the map on Logan’s thigh. You steal glances at it because he refused to let you help him navigate.
Besides the occasional ask for a bathroom break and refuted offer of switching drivers, the four-hour road trip has been quiet. You tried to turn the radio on earlier but he’d shut it off nearly immediately. He claimed that the pop shit they play makes his ears ring.
You were almost tempted to turn it up to full volume if only to torture him a little bit.
Logan’s rough voice jars you out of your head, “I’m going to need to know your real name.”
You frown, brows furrowed in confusion. Had you still not given him your actual name? He’s always referred to you as Flux, but you just assumed that’s because he didn’t want you to be an actual person in his eyes. It’s easier to hate someone if you can distance yourself from the idea of them having actual feelings. Still, you can’t believe he never asked someone for it.
It just shows you how little he cares for you. Reluctantly, you give it to him. He hums, something pensive pinching at his face. “What?” You snap, waiting for him to insult you.
He just shrugs, “It’s pretty,” he mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. You don’t even know how to respond to that, so caught off guard by a genuine compliment that you just choose to ignore it. You doubt he meant it, anyway. He might think the name is pretty, but he doesn’t hold the same opinion of the person connected to it.
You sink back into the silence, finding it more comforting than jarring now. You’d prefer the familiar feeling of him ignoring you than the abrupt turn in character. He glances over at you, something like regret on his face as he sighs.
Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, in what feels like an extension of an olive branch, he turns the radio back on. He keeps the volume low, so it doesn’t bother him so much. But at least there’s something to listen to besides your breathing.
You turn back towards the window, a white sign surrounded by daises coming up as Logan slows the truck down. He flicks on his turn signal, pulling up to Storybrook Walk. He stops in front of a large wrought iron gate and jumps out of the truck. He runs up to a black metal box, flipping the lid open and typing in the code Charles gave you both. As he gets back in the truck, the gate swings open widely.
You pull your rings out of your pocket and slip yours on. “Here,” you urge, holding Logan’s ring out to him. He huffs, glaring down at it before snatching it out of your hand. He balances his hands atop the wheel, slipping the ring on his left hand.
The neighborhood is picture-perfect suburbia. The lawns are bright green and manicured to perfection. You can hear children laughing as they play in their backyards and draw out a hopscotch grid on the sidewalk. Women and men who look like they’re straight from the fifties stop on the sidewalk and wave as you drive through the gated community.
You mouth the numbers on the mailboxes to yourself, sitting up straighter when you’re one house away from your new home for the next few weeks. “Hey,” you frown, noticing a large congregation of people in the driveway of 1220. “This is our house isn’t it?”
Logan frowns, stopping the truck just before pulling in so he doesn’t hit anyway. “Supposed to be.” He glares at the people suspiciously, “Stay here, alright?”
You nod, watching him as he jumps out and rounds the front of the truck. You roll your window down, fingers dancing along the metal of your cuffs. There’s no way you’ve been found out before you’ve even gotten a chance to investigate.
“Hey!” Logan’s voice is scary on a good day, but when he feels threatened, it’s enough to frighten a grown man. You can see the people flinch slightly away from him. That’s when you spot the wrapped cookies in a blonde woman’s hand and see children hiding with balloons on the porch.
“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. You throw the door open, racing after Logan before he does something stupid. “Howdy neighbors!” You shout, speaking over him before he gets a chance to say anything else. You rush up to Logan’s side, nearly out of breath in your haste to get to him. “Is this our welcoming committee?”
You glare up at him and his eyes narrow as he sees the same thing you did. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
“Smile and wave,” you whisper through gritted teeth. His lips peel up into something terrifying and it takes everything in you not to flinch back. “What the fuck is that?” You mutter.
“A smile,” he hisses, glaring down at you in irritation.
A blonde woman steps forward before you can continue your hushed argument. “Welcome!” She calls out in a heavy southern accent, throwing her arms open with a bright smile. She walks as fast as she can in her tight skirt and kitten heels, coming over to embrace you, the casserole in her hand balancing precariously behind you.
She tugs Logan down into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek and staining the skin red. “Surprise!” The kids on the porch jump out with balloons and flowers and she winces.
“A bit late on the delivery,” she waves it off with a faux chuckle. “But we don’t mind ‘cause they’re so darn cute.” She is very… loud. There’s something about her that is meant to be charming but puts you on edge. She’s got all the familiar characteristics of a woman you’d love to be around, but she’s executing it like someone playing a character. “Shiela,” she holds out her hand, perfectly manicured nails shining bright red.
You take her hand introducing yourself, “And this is my husband, Logan. Forgive him for his tone, we had an accident on the highway earlier. We’re still a little on edge.”
“Oh no,” she gasps, pressing her nails to her chest and even that seems plastic. “What happened?”
Years of bullshitting your way through school presentations are finally coming in handy. You think quickly on your feet, something these people would despise. You need something that endears you to them, “Tire blew out and someone tried to raid the trailer while we were fixing it.”
She lets out a disapproving hum and the throng of people behind her echoes it with disturbing harmony. You find yourself leaning closer towards Logan, feeling like you need to defend yourself against them. You know they’re only an overzealous HOA committee, but there is something uncanny about them.
Sensing your discomfort, Logan wraps his arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side. You have to school your features into one of neutrality. You’re supposed to be newlyweds, this is normal behavior for you. His touch feels like ice water being tossed over you, though. His willing embrace makes your head swim with distaste and skepticism.
“Well,” a man steps forward. He’s conventionally handsome, with brown hair cropped short, slight stubble on his cheeks, slacks, and a button-up that he fills out nicely. His smile, however, stretches too wide and shows too many teeth. A shiver crawls up your spine as he places his hand on Shiela’s shoulder. “You won’t have to worry about people like that here, that’s for sure. John,” he offers his hand to Logan, bypassing you completely. “Head of the HOA here at Storybrook.”
“Nice to meet you, John” Logan falls just short of sincere. He towers slightly over John and you can see that he’s squeezing his hand just a bit too tight by the wince of Jouhn’s face. You dig your elbow into his side and he drops his hand immediately.
Your gaze drifts over their shoulders and your stomach drops. The people behind them all hold dishes full of food and gift baskets. Their smiles are pinned to their faces, never once flinching out of place. There’s no joy in their eyes, though. They’re glazed over like they’re a million miles away. You would think they were mannequins before you even considered them human.
“Long drive?” Shiela asks, your eyes dart back to hers only to find her intense stare already wholly focused on you.
“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat of the panic rising in it. “We’re gonna have a fun time unloading this,” you laugh humorlessly, motioning towards the trailer.
She waves her hands in dismissal. “Don’t you worry about that, hun. That’s what neighbors are for after all.” She looks behind her, snapping her fingers a few times. The other’s start going towards the trailer and you feel Logan tense under your touch.
A kid reaches it first, they manage to unlock it before you shout, “No!” It’s too loud, echoing through the street and making you clench your eyes shut in embarrassment. You turn back towards Shiela and John, both of them wearing shocked expressions. You chuckle awkwardly, “There’s just a lot of family heirlooms. I don’t want to risk them being damaged.” There are no heirlooms, just empty boxes and surveillance equipment that you'll have no chance of explaining away.
Shiela purses her lips into a tight smile, eyes turned to slits as she nods. “Of course,” you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “Well then, we’ll just take all this inside.” She snaps and the others take their casseroles and gifts and begin flooding towards your front door. Shiela and John walk behind them, herding them all into a straight line.
You let go of Logan immediately, glaring at the door of your home. Shiela holds a key in her hand, unlocking it and letting everyone inside. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “What the actual fuck?” You hiss.
Logan just shakes his head. “Fucking bizarre, what the hell is wrong with these people?” He starts back towards the truck and you follow him. “I almost prefer the welcoming committee at the manor.”
You roll your eyes, “I was your welcoming committee,” you grouse.
He shrugs, “I know.” You swat lightly at his shoulder and relatch the trailer’s lock. You linger by the mailbox as Logan pulls the truck into the driveway. He’s getting out just as the others finally leave your house.
Shiela walks back towards you and you gesture towards the keyring in her hand. “Got a key to my house?” You play it off as a joke but it’s incredibly disturbing to know she could walk in at any minute.
“Of course,” she smiles and shrugs it off like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “For the safety of everyone here.” Her smile drops and she takes an imposing step towards you, “Inspections are every Wednesday at noon.” Your jaw drops in astonishment and you choke on your words. She cackles loudly, face breaking out into a smile once more. “I’m just kidding, honey! God, your face, you’re too gullible, sweetheart.”
You force out a chuckle, smiling as much as you can force. “Of course, silly me,” you barely make it sound believable. This is going to be much harder than you thought.
“Well,” John comes up behind her, guiding her away from you. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Welcome, neighbors!” The others around them all call out a Welcome as they drift across your lawn and head back to their own homes.
Logan walks up to your side, the both of you keeping stilted smiles on your faces, waiting for them to just go away. But they pause at their doors, in almost perfect synchronization they turn and wave at you both. You back further into Logan’s chest and his grip on you tightens.
“What. The. Fuck.” They step through their homes at the same moment and you feel sick to your stomach. There is something seriously wrong here, you’re not sure you want to find out the truth of it.
You leave Logan to unload the trailer while you unpack the boxes. You’re forced to do it all by hand while the front door is open. You can’t risk someone stopping by for a visit and seeing you float the couch through the middle of the living room. You’re stumped on how to set up the surveillance equipment. Shiela doesn’t seem like the type to understand boundaries when it comes to popping by for a visit.
You’re just going to have to keep most of it upstairs and set up some cameras on the porch. You don’t doubt that she’ll abuse that key of hers as she sees fit. You can’t imagine how anyone could stand living in this neighborhood. Having no privacy seems like a nightmare. Especially when the commander of the HOA is John and Shiela. They seem like the type to fine you over a rosebush.
Logan grunts, dragging in the couch. He pushes it through the doorway and kicks the door closed behind him. The second it’s closed he drops the act and picks the couch up with one hand. “Where do you want it?”
You point towards the back wall of the living room and he drops it with a small groan. “We’re going to need to put cameras out on the porch,” you inform him, still digging through the box. He walks behind you, heading for the fridge and digging around in it.
“Fuck,” he mutters. You look up, watching as he tosses aside casserole after casserole. “They didn’t bring any beer?”
You laugh a little and get up, heading towards the cooler you’d packed. “They don’t seem the type.” You lean over, digging around through the melted ice until your fingers brush against cool glass. You straighten up, sending him a coquettish smile. “Want a beer after all that hard work, darling?” You taunt, playing the perfect housewife.
He scoffs and holds his hand out, snatching it from the air as you toss it at him. He pulls the cap off with his teeth, spitting it out into the sink. “And a sandwich while you’re at it,” he demands roughly.
If you weren’t a connoisseur of dry humor, you wouldn’t have recognized the joke for what it was. Still, you’re almost too shocked he even bothered to play along with you to laugh. Almost, you can’t help the slight chuckle that slips out.
He throws himself on the couch, taking a deep swig from the bottle, and the moment feels remarkably domestic. You suppose that it should. That is the whole reason you’re here after all. But you hadn’t expected even a singular pleasant moment with Logan.
This, playful banter and a shared joke, that’s all you could ever want from him. You would settle for this if it was all he was willing to give you. But he can’t even grant you that. This is one outlier in a long list of rude remarks and dismissive behavior. You can’t let yourself be so easily swayed.
“I might try and get some cameras on the other houses,” Logan remarks from the couch. He kicks his feet on the coffee table and you click your tongue at him, motioning towards his shoes. With an aggrieved sigh, he undoes the laces of his boots and kicks them off. You glare at the dirt that flings across the carpet but a quick wave of your hand makes it disappear.
“Don’t bother with the cameras. They’ve all got security.” You turn away from the box you’re unpacking with a pensive frown. “They’re all covered by the same company, too. All of them. Isn’t that weird?”
He scoffs and shrugs. “Anywhere else, yeah. But I’m pretty sure they piss at the same time here.” Your nose wrinkles at his crude words and you roll your eyes.
“Take this seriously.”
He huffs out a laugh, “I am. Didn’t you see them earlier? They only breathe because Shiela lets them.” You take a seat at the kitchen table, uncomfortable attempting to take a spot on the couch. He sighs when he sees the expression on your face, finally dropping the dismissive attitude. “I’ll just be smart about how I set up our cameras, alright?”
You just nod, reaching for the box of your essentials on the table. It’s strange to be sitting beside him, talking to him. You’ve never gotten more than two words out of him. This is so far out of your normal comfort zone that you feel like you’re crawling out of your skin trying to escape.
“I’m going to go to bed,” you announce awkwardly, shooting up from your seat at the table.
The beer pauses halfway to his lips and he gives you an odd look. “Okay?” He responds slowly, not sure why you’re telling him this. You open your mouth, and almost tell him to have a good night, but change your mind at the last second.
You move towards the bedroom near the front door, “Flux,” you turn slightly and he shakes his head. “Take the one upstairs.”
Your brows furrow, “Why?” You demand, an attitude edging its way into your voice.
“So if Shiela busts down our door I can protect us,” you know he’s teasing, but the sentiment is nice. “And so I don’t have to set up the surveillance shit upstairs,” your face drops and you roll your eyes. There it is.
“Dick,” you mutter, storming towards the stairs, your boxes hovering along behind you. His laughter follows you up the stairs, even when you slam the door shut. Although, when you take in the room, you can’t find it in yourself to complain for a second about it.
While Logan is screwed with the teeny guest room downstairs, you get the largest bedroom you’ve ever been in all to yourself. The closet could practically be another bedroom. The bath is more like a jacuzzi than it is a tub.
A four-poster bed sits against the wall, the fluffiest comforter ever becoming you forth like a siren. There’s even a table in the middle of the room, with a chair, perfect for setting up as your desk.
You scoff in astonishment, “Oh, I could get used to this.” You place your boxes on the table and start pulling out your clothes. You toss yourself on the bed, bouncing against the sheets, and throw pillows go flying everywhere. You flick your wrist, all your essentials flying out of the boxes and sorting themselves out.
After a luxurious soak in the tub, you’re spread out along the bed, the limited information from Charles's file spread out before you. There are only a few blurry pictures of the neighborhood and a typed-up page of everything he’s heard about Sotrybrook. There’s nothing even remotely useful here.
You sigh, tossing the file to the floor and looking out the large window of your room. You’ve got a camera placed on the sill, programmed to take a picture anytime there’s movement. You doubt you’re going to get much from that. The secrets of this place seem to be buried deep. You’re gonna have to get real friendly with your neighbors if you want to get out of here fast.
Logan is on the computer, trying to sync all of the cameras up. You clean up the dishes from breakfast and tidy up the kitchen. You’re trying to decide how you should start investigating when there’s a dainty knock on the door.
Your brows furrow and you peer around the cupboards to look at the door. Logan’s head lifts and he shares an odd look with you. He gets up from the couch and glances through the peephole.
You drop the towel on the counter and frown as his shoulders slump forward. Something pinched appears on his face and he sighs. “What?” You hiss at him.
He turns and glares at you, “You’ll see.” You shake your head in confusion as he throws the door open.
His attitude makes a lot more sense when you hear a very happy, “Howdy!” Shiela stands in your doorframe, three women hovering behind her. At least they look awake, unlike the people from last night. A redhead with the most gorgeous waves you’ve ever seen holds beach towels in her arms. A brunette with flawless brown skin carries a jug of lemonade. And a woman with black hair and a perfect figure is carrying a plate of cookies.
All of these women are wearing bathing suits that look like they’ve been snatched out of a fashion magazine from the sixties. Each of them is gorgeous, alarmingly so. They’re beautiful to the point of being flawless. As you walk out of the kitchen and take a step closer, Shiela welcomes herself into your home.
You don’t even think you see pores on their faces. Each of them offers you the same practiced smile that you force yourself to return. “How are you settling in?” Shiela demands, not asks.
“Um,” you look to Logan for help but he’s just as perplexed as you are. “Just fine, Shiela, thanks. What are you all doing?”
The redhead rolls her eyes playfully, “Tanning, sweetheart.” She glances at Logan expectantly and he grabs his duffel from by the couch.
“I think that’s my cue,” he falls easily into the role of a playful husband. But you don’t need him to play along right now. You need him to stay where the fuck he is so you’re not alone with the barbies.
“Ha ha, don’t go,” you whisper, trying to grab at his sleeve. “Logan,” you hiss, making sure the others can’t hear you as they look around your home. “Don’t do this.”
He dips his head down, and for one stupid moment, you think he might kiss you. “Good luck,” he whispers in your ear, backing off with a smug smirk and letting himself out of the house.
Oh, you’re going to fucking kill him.
“Finally,” the brunette breathes out a relieved breath, “I thought he’d never leave.”
Shiela chuckles, “You’re lucky honey. It took us a long while to have ours so well trained.” She motions to the other girls, “This is Madge,” the redhead smiles and gives a cute wave. She introduces the rest quickly and you file the information away for later when you’re writing your report.
Madge- husband is the vendor consultant for the HOA.
Sierra - brunette - husband is secretary of the HOA.
Kimiko - black hair - no husband.
Your brows furrow in confusion as Kimiko nods in greeting. You return it, suspicions running thick in your blood. It’s odd, that their husbands are in charge of the HOA, you figured they would be. Beyond that, the emphasis they put on it is astonishing. You really didn’t think the HOA was so important but it’s practically the government here. And the women only seem to hold importance if their husbands do. Shiela is essentially their leader, she’s the one you need to impress.
This whole thing seems incredibly backward and like a blast from the past. The way they style their hair, do their makeup, dress- it's all fashioned after the fifties and sixties. You feel incredibly out of place in your worn-down pajamas and frizzy braids.
“We’re not really tanning,” Madge tells you. “This is just a way for us ladies to get to know the new kid in the neighborhood and tell you everything you need to know,” she leans in, smiling like she’s sharing a conspiratorial secret with you.
“Don’t let Madge scare you,” Sierra shoots her a glare. “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just a way for us to escape our husbands for an hour.”
“Well,” you chuckle awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest as you grow uncomfortable under their tense stares. It feels like their eyes are peeling back your skin, exposing everything underneath as they judge every nook and cranny of your soul. “I haven’t reached that stage yet.”
Shiela’s smile loses some of its humor and she scoffs. “You will,” she assures you, acrid bitterness coating her words. “Give it a few years,” she gives you a bitchy and all-knowing smirk. Your hackles raise, the urge to defend your sham of a marriage rising quickly in you. You bite your tongue, swallowing down your smart retort before you say something you regret.
You’re not even married to Logan, but you don’t like her butting her nose so far into your business. “Sadly, I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Oh,” Kimiko gives you a blank smile, “We brought you one.” Madge moves the towels aside to reveal a two-piece that matches their own. In your size.
Your cheeks ache with a forced smile as you take the bathing suit from them. “We’ll just set up out back,” Shiela lets you know. She turns to the others with a beaming smile, “Come on ladies.” They follow after her like ducklings, and when you look down you see each of their steps are in sync.
You wait until the back door closes to rush to the front. You throw the door open and Logan jumps from where he’s drilling the camera into the side of the house. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you warn.
He chuckles and smirks, “Don’t keep ‘em waiting too long, sweetheart,” he mocks and you slam the door closed with a loud scoff. He was enjoying your suffering far too much, but you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re sure he’s just been waiting for a moment like this.
You change into the bathing suit and take a deep calming breath. You can do this. You can play pretend for a few hours.
You wished you’d known being an actor was a part of the job description before you joined the X-Men.
You lay on your stomach along the soft beach towel that Madge brought. The sun isn’t too hot on you, but you also bent the tree behind you to provide a bit more shade when the others weren’t looking. So far, you’ve collected nothing but mindless gossip.
Sam never takes in his trash cans on time. Alicia has been getting a little too cozy with the gardener. Some couple you didn’t pay attention to is expecting a kid. You’re struggling to pay attention to all the mindless drivel.
Usually, you wouldn’t mind a little gossip, but none of this feels real. Their words are hollow, smiles empty. Everything they say sounds like they’re reading it from a script. The only person you actually believe cares about any of this bullshit is Shiela. The rest of them seem to just play along, not meaning a word they say.
You’re gaining nothing useful from this. There’s no information you’ve gotten during this conversation that could remotely help you. All you want to do is go out front and strangle Logan for abandoning you.
The only good thing about all this is the lemonade and cookies. Which, you admit, you may have indulged yourself a little too much. But at this point, you’re just eating to stay awake. You reach for another cookie and Shiela lets out a dainty huff.
“I wish I could eat like you,” she laughs and you prepare yourself for the most backhanded insult you’ve ever heard. “But I have to be so careful about watching my figure. Wouldn’t want to lose my waist,” she titters and the other women giggle.
You toss the cookie back on the plate, rolling your eyes. It feels like you’re right back in high school. You love this, this is great. At this point, you’re just trying to stop yourself from tossing them all out.
The backdoor slides open and Logan peeks his head out. The women wave and Shiela calls out a sultry, “Hey, Lo.”
Your jaw drops and you can’t help but scoff as you tilt your head to give her an astonished stare. This woman has absolutely zero shame. She’s not even hiding the way she’s ogling him. She’s literally biting her lip.
You clench your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. There it is, the end of your rope. “Sweetheart, you gonna be done soon?” Logan calls out and you can’t help but smile at the immense satisfaction you feel when Shiela’s face falls. You shouldn’t take so much joy in Logan ignoring her, you know that’s just how he is. But she doesn’t.
“I think so, hon.” You sit up on your knees, clapping your hands and pretending to be upset. “Sorry, girls, I think I’m needed back in the house.” You get to your feet and pick your towel up. As you do, you flick your fingers, and the lemonade tumbles over, spilling all over Shiela’s pristine white bathing suit.
She jumps up with a shrill scream, shaking her arms off at the ice-cold liquid and desperately trying to wipe off her bathing suit. Madge and Sierra flock to her and you roll your eyes at how dramatic she’s being.
Out of the side of your eye, you see someone watching you. You turn slightly, startling when you see the intense glare Kimiko’s sporting. It’s the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, but even this seems cold. Her dark eyes are bottomless pits of frigid rage. You find that you can’t look away from her, swaying slightly as her eyes beckon you forward.
You need to go to her, speak with her, be with her. You need-
Your mind falls short of what you need. But you know Kimko will give it to you. Sierra and Madge both straighten up, both blank-faced as you take a step forward.
Logan hollers your name again and you jump, shaking your head and breaking whatever trance you’d fallen in. When you look back, all three of them are still fussing over Shiela. You glance to Logan, to see if he saw what had happened.
His brows are furrowed, face pinched in concern as he looks at you. You think you might have just found Charles’ interference.
“I think we should look into Kimiko,” you scroll through the list of residents you’d managed to hack into. You’ve been on the computer for hours, trying to find any information bout her at all. Even when you ran a background check, nothing came up. If that doesn’t scream mutant, you don’t know what does.
Logan walks over to the table with a steaming pan in his hand. You tug your computer glasses off and slide the laptop to the side. He pours some pasta onto your plate and hands you a glass of water. “Thank you,” he gives you a tense almost-smile and nods.
“Figure out where she lives?” He asks, bringing his own plate to the table. You shake your head and rub your temples, trying to fend off the headache you can already feel forming. You should have taken a break from the research. You can’t stand staring at screens for as long as you did.
“She’s not even a registered resident.”
“Well,” he sighs and shrugs, “at least we know this wasn’t a waste of time.” You nod in acquiesce and take a bite of your food. Your eyes widen in shock and he laughs at the look on your face. “Didn’t think I could cook?”
You shake your head and smile. “I took you as the type to pour beer in your cereal. But this is,” you stumble over your word. You’re afraid of being too nice to him. You’ve reached a sort of impasse, where you’re not openly hostile, but you’re not exactly friendly. You feel like if you do too much, too fast, he’s gonna be closed off again. “It’s really good.”
He purses his lips and nods, dragging his fork along the porcelain plate. The noise grates on you and only further aggravates the growing headache but you don’t snap at him. You swallow down the frustration and just shovel more pasta into your mouth.
“This, uh,” Logan takes in a deep breath and lets all out in one gravely exhale. You give him an expectant look and he shrugs. “It hasn’t been as bad as I thought.” He tells you flippantly.
You narrow your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You demand with a firm tone, placing your fork down and leaning back in your chair.
He lets out an annoyed sigh, “It was just an observation.”
You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s fucking ridiculous. “You know, maybe if you ever tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t have had such a horrible opinion about me.” You try and eat more but the food just tastes like ash in your mouth. You grow antsy, not wanting to sit near him anymore.
You’re surprised that he’s the one who fucked up the peace. You really thought it would be you. But something about what he said is rubbing you the wrong way. Of course, it hasn’t been bad, you’re not a bad person. He just decided he hated you one day and he’s so goddamned stubborn he never considered anything else being the truth.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he defends, watching with a confused expression as you get up and drop your plate loudly in the sink.
“You know,” you ignore his weak defense, leaning on the sink. You grip the rim of it tightly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep yourself calm. “You didn’t even know my fucking name,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head to yourself. Why are you even bothering with him? You’ll never win and you don’t even know if you want him to change his opinion about you.
He’s been a dick for so long that you’re not sure you’re even interested in being friends, let alone anything beyond that.
“Well,” he takes an angered tone as you continue to deflect his attempts at restoring the peace. “It’s not like you told me. You just go by your X-Men name, how was I supposed to know better?”
“By fucking asking!” You shout, whirling around on him, nearly ramming into his chest. You hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten while you’d had your back to him. “If you had, ever, at any fucking point tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t be so surprised that I’m nice. I’m a nice person to be around, Logan. And for some reason I tried to change myself, to make you happy. And it never even worked!” You scoff, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your throat that you quickly swallow down. You shove past him, escaping the corner he’s backed you into. “Your head is so far up your ass that you didn’t even try to know me before you decided you hated me.”
“What?” He scoffs and glares at you. “I don’t fucking hate you. When have I ever said that? And I never wanted you to change.” He keeps focusing on the wrong things. How he feels about you doesn’t matter, it’s how he treated you.
“Never, you’ve never said that because you’ve never said more than two words to me. This,” you motion between the two of you, “is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” A sudden exhaustion settles over you, it weighs heavy on your bones and drapes across you like a blanket.
You don’t have the energy for this. For him. You don’t want to keep defending yourself to someone who couldn’t care less. There’s no winning with him. He will never listen to you, he’ll just offer half-assed excuses that he thinks absolve him of how horribly he’s treated you.
He calls your name as you slump into the dining room chair. Your real name, not your X-Men name. “I never hated you,” he tells you, voice soft, but the conviction is strong.
You stand up, unable to make eye contact with him. “Goodnight, Logan.” You walk up the stairs quietly, never once looking at him. You can’t stand to face him. As much as you’ve tried to bury how you feel about him, it’s still there.
Being with him like this, having his ring on your finger, it’s a stab in the gut over and over and over. Someone’s taken your most ridiculous and romantic fantasies and turned them into a waking nightmare. You wake up to him every day, eat at the same table, share the same house, and you two couldn’t be further apart.
You have to keep up appearances, Logan is sure that’s the only reason you’ve joined him this morning. He’s working on the truck while you kneel on a foam pad, planting a rose bush by the mailbox. But the way you’re stabbing the shovel into the ground it looks more like murder than it does gardening. You slam the little trowel into the dirt, lips pulled back like a wild animal as dirt flies up around your hair.
Logan turns back to the truck, letting out a low whistle under his breath. Besides the insane display of shrubbery abuse, you blend into the neighborhood better than he ever could. You fit that perfect suburban aesthetic, sun hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a pretty dress.
You’re good at blending in, better than he ever was. He’s heard you joking about it before. Telling Jean your hidden mutant ability is learning to be a chameleon, fitting yourself wherever you are. He thinks it’s a cute idea, and not too far from the truth.
He only wishes he were a little more like that. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his wifebeater, fraying jeans, and general countenance of misery. He can’t force a smile when John walks by with a shitty joke. He’s not like you. You stomach all of the women’s vapid nonsense with a smile and manage to seem so unaffected by it all.
The only time he’s seen you break was last night. And that, of course, had been his fault. He wishes he was better with his words. He’s always been an action man, but clearly, he’s fucked that up with you too. He really did mean it as a compliment.
He’s just incapable of talking without his foot in his mouth when it comes to you. It’s why he tends to just avoid you and stay quiet. He knows he’ll mess up with you eventually. In the rare chance you ever actually give him a second look, he’d be a shitty boyfriend. And even if you were just friends, he’d still fuck up somehow. He always does.
He’s learned it’s better to just keep a distance between himself and others. Especially you. He’s always just wanted to keep you away from his bullshit. The haunted past he still knows so little about, all the mental baggage he carries, he never wanted to burden you with it. Even though it seems like he still managed to screw up somehow.
Even when he’s trying to be good he’s still the bad guy.
You let out a heavy sigh and his gaze drifts back towards you. The way it always seems to do. You’re his sun, bright, beaming, a golden beacon of hope. But he’s always just too far, eclipsing the light you might bring him with his own stupidity.
You toss the trowel to the ground and stand up. You frown, brushing off all the dirt you’re absolutely caked in. When he peers around you and glances at the spot where the rose bush is supposed to be all he sees is a crater of earth and ripped up grass. He figures it's better not to mention it.
You walk over to him, the same scowl you’ve had for the past few days ever-present on your face. “I’m going to take a shower,” you look at him expectantly and he shrugs. You let out a loud sigh and he can’t possibly imagine how he’s messed up now. “You need one too, the barbecues in an hour.”
He’d forgotten about the fucking barbecue. Some annual thing Shiela and John threw that the whole neighborhood went to. “It doesn’t take me an hour to get ready,” he tells you, intending a little bit of playfulness.
Instead, you just let out an exasperated breath and storm back into the house. How did he keep fucking up with you so badly?
He’s gotten a taste of your personality, your company. He’s tried for so long to avoid getting to know you. He knows that if he truly did, he’d never get over you. He was right. Just one taste of you and he wants more, he wants to consume everything about you that he can. He’s screwed up in so many ways but he can’t just go back to normal after this and act like strangers.
You smooth the wrinkles out of your cotton dress and let out a low breath. “You need another minute?” Logan grumps from beside you, his stare boring into the door. He didn’t want to come to this. Frankly, neither did you, but he needs to suck it up and be a big boy. You two are here for a purpose greater than yourselves.
Maybe if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe it.
Kimiko was everywhere that Shiela was. She was her shadow, her loyalist servant. And the only person in this neighborhood who’s shown a sliver of consciousness. You don’t know where she lives, or if she even owns a house here. But you do know she’ll be at this barbecue tonight.
The only reason you’re bothering to bring Logan along is because you need him to distract Shiela. She drools every time she sees him, practically licking her maw at the sight of him in a tight t-shirt. You can’t really blame her, but she’s a married woman and he’s technically a married man. The lack of shame and compassion is genuinely astonishing to you.
“No. Let’s just get this over with.” He needs no further prompting as he knocks heavily on the door. Each pound of his fist sounds like a bell tolling your doom. The intense feeling of nausea and eyes on the back of your head has developed and grown increasingly worse the longer you’re here.
You feel like someone’s pressing against your mind, wiggling their fingers in and squeezing until mush slips through their knuckles. You keep a tight grip on Logan so you don’t tip over. Playing it off as the love-sick newlyweds you’re meant to be.
Even though the feeling of his skin against yours makes you angrier than you can even begin to fathom. You’ve held onto built-up resentment and anger ever since your little tiff. You’ve heard that tumultuous times are common in the beginnings of marriages. Luckily, you’re getting a divorce the second this fucking mission is over.
You resent Charles for ever sending you here. Any minuscule hopes you’ve had of finally building a relationship with Logan have been dashed across your front yard. There’s no hope for him. He’ll never change, and how he treats you will never change.
The door swings open and the music from the backyard drifts through to the front. Shiela smiles widely, greeting you both with a drawn-out Hi! She reaches forward and grabs Logan, tugging him away from you and dragging him into a hug.
You stumble forward as your support is ripped out from under you. She briefly glances over his shoulder at you and you offer her a sardonic smile. Every bit of you wants to dig your nails into her and rip until chunks of her start flying off. The post beside you warps slightly, bending like it’s melting.
You dig your nails into your palm, swallowing down your anger, and force the post upright once more. Logan grabs Shiela by the waist, practically yanking her off of him. He steps back towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist.
You can’t help the smug smile that lifts your lips as you face her. You almost want to rub her face in it. He chose you and he can’t stand you, that says a lot about how he feels about her. You stop yourself, though, it’d be beyond idiotic to let that be the reason your cover is blown.
“Thanks for inviting us,” you tell Shiela, playing oblivious instead of walking into her trap. You pass her the casserole you half-assed and baked in her dish. “We’re so excited to finally have a home to call our own, and with such wonderful neighbors,” you gasp dreamily. “Oh, it’s just a dream come true.”
Shiela runs a manicured nail along the side of her lip, looking wholly unimpressed. “Mhm,” she hums, “I’m sure.” You share a look with Logan, both of you caught off guard by her sudden dip in personality. Her face is blank, devoid of the usual overwrought happiness and charm. It’s like something’s taken control and drained the life from her.
Either Kimiko’s here and you’re right about her, or, Shiela is just a depressed housewife who can’t always control when she smiles. You’re hoping it’s Kimiko and you can just end this once and for all.
“Alright,” she’s back in a second like nothing ever happened. The boom of her voice echoing through the foyer makes you jump. “Let’s get you two outside. And thank you so much for this,” she gestures to the casserole. “You’re just such a sweet little thing aren’t you?”
Everything she says to you feels just a tad patronizing. She’s incapable of complimenting you without minimizing you in some way. You dismiss it, shaking off the funk she always seems to put you in.
Shiela leads you to the backdoor of her porch where the rest of the neighborhood is. She certainly got the best square footage, that’s for sure. She doesn’t just have the biggest house, she’s also got the biggest yard you’ve ever stepped foot on.
People are milling about, John’s flipping hamburgers on the grill, and children are playing happily with one another. It feels like an advert for the Fourth of July.
You scan the yard for the only person you’re looking for. You spot her, pushed back towards the shadow of Shiela’s oak tree. Shiela follows your gaze with a frown and scoffs. “I know, hideous isn’t it?”
You jump, startled out of your stupor. “Sorry?”
She points towards the tree. “I wanted to get rid of it, but apparently it’s historic,” she throws up air quotes, inflecting her voice lazily, “or something stupid.”
“Oh, right,” you nod dismissively and she shrugs, hands slapping against her thighs as she nods to her yard.
“Well, go on, socialize, make yourself at home y’all.” She walks back into the house and you glance back at the yard.
“Shit,” you hiss, “Kimiko’s gone.” You move away from Logan and take a step down the stairs, he begins to follow you but you stop him with a firm hand to his chest. He frowns down at you and you nod towards Shiela. “I need you playing interception. Those two are attached at the hip. The only thing that’s going to distract her is the hunk of meat she’s been drooling over.”
Logan frowns and takes a step back. He sets his face and crosses his arms and you sigh, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “No.” He tells you firmly, not even bothering to hear you out.
“Well,” you shrug. “Too bad, I need you to do this or we’re never getting out of here.”
He mocks your shrug and nods, “Alright. Fine.” He leans into your space and you feel like you’re being scolded, “I’m not leaving you on your own, okay? And I’m not letting you go after Kimiko alone.”
“I’m not going after her,” you glance around, making sure no one is listening to you talk about their neighbor like she’s on a hit list. “I just need one interrupted conversation with her. Just one,” you’re practically pleading with him at this point.
You feel pathetic. You’re a grown woman and an X-Men. You shouldn’t have to be bartering with Logan. He should just have some faith in your abilities to not only protect yourself but conduct yourself appropriately on a mission.
His face screws up in irritation and you know he’s about to really cause a scene. He’ll start arguing with you, and blow your spot up just to get you out of here. You give him a placating smile, a real one because he’s somehow learned to tell the difference. “Logan, it’s only for an hour. I’m sure you can fend Shiela off,” you joke to try and lighten the mood.
He sucks in a deep breath and you know you’ve got him when his shoulders sink in defeat. “Fine. I’m only agreeing to this because you’re practically a chameleon with this shit,” he gestures vaguely to the barbecue and your face pinches with confusion.
“What?”
“I heard you talking about it with Jean one day. How you’re a chameleon when it comes to blending in with people.”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly a brag. It’s a method of survival, a way to make people like me. It gives me a fighting chance when they find out I’m a mutant.” God, why are you even talking about this? Why had he even been listening to your conversation with Jean?
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but you don’t have time for that. “Look, Logan, just go find Shiela.” You walk away from him before he can drudge up more uncomfortable memories of high school.
You manage to slip through the party relatively unnoticed. You didn’t see where Kimiko had disappeared to. You’re hoping there might be some sort of hint left where she had been. You rush towards the oak tree, using it as a way to scan the party for her again. From here you can’t see anything except the kitchen.
You’ve got a perfect view of Logan trudging towards Shiela. You can’t help but laugh when she wraps her hand around his bicep, eagerly telling him something. You smile and shake your head, the audacity of this woman is amazing.
Something catches your eye, right by your foot. Glancing down you see something silver glinting through the grass. Frowning, you kneel and scoop it up. It’s an oblong device, small, and fits in the palm of your hand. It’s curved oddly, and the lights on it start flashing bright red as you hold it.
“What the hell?” You flip it over, a warped mirrored reflection on the back of it. You just barely spot Kimiko’s twisted face in the reflection before the world goes black.
You groan, slowly blinking the fog of a forced sleep out of your eyes. You reach to swipe at your face, but something is holding your wrists down. You jerk your arms a few times, struggling against whatever restraints are wrapped around you. When nothing happens, you instead focus on the feeling of it against your wrist, trying to get it to dissolve.
“Don’t bother,” a cool voice calls out from the shadows. There’s one bright light shining down on you, like the type you might see above an operating table. The entire room feels sterile. And it’s cold, you can barely feel the tips of your toes or fingers.
“What’d you do?” You demand, trying to sound intimidating but your words come out as a slur. The back of your head radiates pain and it takes everything in you just to keep your eyes open.
“I developed a gas,” the voice circles the room, echoing across the curved walls. You hear footsteps but you can’t tell where they’re coming from. “It halts the neurons in a mutant’s brain that fire when they use their abilities. Temporary, but quite handy when I’m dealing with a mentalist like you.”
Kimiko steps out of the shadows like a bad comic book villain. Her face is blank, no expression on it, somehow, it’s the realest she’s ever looked before. Here, you can see her humanity. Pores across her nose, frizz and oil along her hair, her nose just a little bit crooked. Whatever she’d been doing to herself has been wiped away. And the human woman lurking beneath is finally revealed.
“There you are,” you mutter, your speech slowly coming back to you. “I knew that plastic face wasn’t real.”
“Everything was going just fine until you and Wolverine got here,” she gives you a sharp look, “Flux.”
You sarcastically gasp, “Wow, you know my X-Men name. It’s not like I haven’t been interviewed before. What’s the plan here, Kimiko? Where are the others?”
Her brows pinch, “Others?”
“The mutants you’re trafficking.”
“Oh,” she laughs and it’s so jarring you nearly jump. “Is that what people think?” Hesitantly, you nod, but you’re beginning to feel like you might have gotten something very wrong. “No, that’s not what we’re doing here.”
“We?”
“Shiela and I. We have much simpler plans, much more peaceful. You see, Shiela’s the only person to ever stand beside me after she found out I was a mutant. She gave me a home, a friend, and a sense of belonging.” There’s something devout in her words, like a humble follower kneeling at the feet of their god. “Everything I have, everything I am, I owe to her.”
You’ve seen Shiela’s manipulation firsthand. You have no doubt that she’s never actually done anything for Kimiko. She’s just made her think she had and instilled in her this sense of owing her something.
Then again, Kimiko’s getting this look on her face. She’s like a rabid dog staring down the barrel of their owner’s shotgun. Perhaps she hadn’t needed much prompting to develop such an unhealthy attachment. “Shiela’s parents never loved her the way they should have. They never gave her the perfect life she deserved. So I created one for her.”
She rolls a tray of surgical tools over and a sense of panic finally starts to rouse within you. Yet, for the first time in years, your powers aren’t here to help you. You have nothing to rely on but yourself. But you’ve been trained so intensively in using your abilities as a protector rather than an inhibitor that you’re practically useless without them.
“All these people,” you rush the words out as she picks up a syringe. You don’t know what the yellow liquid inside is, but from the look on her face, you don’t want to. “You’re controlling them?”
Kimiko nods and you’d be staggering if you weren’t strapped down. Not even Charles could control this many people at once. Not without Cerebro. “Kimiko, that’s,” you gasp, flinching away as she brings the needle towards your arms. “It’s incredible!” Your quick rise in volume makes her jolt and the syringe tumbles out of her hands.
She grumbles to herself, leaning over to pick it up. “Does Shiela know?” She pauses at the mention of Shiela’s name, brushing her hair over her shoulder and glaring at you.
“Yes. Of course she does, this is my greatest gift to her.”
“Really?” Your voice drips with contrived empathy. “Then I’m sure she’s done something incredible for you back.” You were hoping a simple manipulation tactic might work, that you could turn Kimiko against an ungrateful Shiela. But this type of obsession isn’t one that can’t be destabilized with a few jumbled words.
No, you only make her angrier. “Back? Back?” she practically screams, her voice raw and feral as she leaps into your face. You flinch as far back as you can as her face hovers over yours, screaming right at you. “I owe her everything! I should thank her for letting me breathe the same air as hers!”
Your jaw drops, a silent scream tripping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. Something squeezes against your brain, the pulsing from before returns with a vengeance. You can feel your mind pulsing and swelling, pushing against your skull.
“Don’t fucking say her name again,” Kimiko glares down at you, her eyes devoid of any remorse or compassion as she makes your brain swell until blood leaks down your ears. Whatever plan she had before has been abandoned, she’s going to just kill you now.
You’re going to die in her basement, no one will ever see you again. Your eyes throb and you feel your brain push to its fullest limits. The pressure builds, builds, and builds until it explodes.
“Then you just pour a little sugar in.” Logan watches as Shiela tips nearly an entire bag of cane sugar into her jug of sweet tea. His stomach shrivels at the sight and he fights down bile. A little bit of sugar drops over the edge. She catches it on her finger and looks over her shoulder, licking the sugar off and practically deepthroating her own finger. All while maintaining a disturbing amount of eye contact with Logan.
“Well,” he knows that he promised you a while with Kimiko, but he can’t handle much more of this. “Thank you so much for this,” he struggles with the word, landing weakly on, “lesson.” He’s not even sure what the point of watching her prepare all this food was.
He’s pretty sure she just wanted him to see her leave a rim of red lipstick at the bottom of her finger as many times as possible. The entire time he’s just wanted to go back to you. There’s a nasty feeling gnawing at him and he knows he needs to get back to you soon.
“Oh,” she seems genuinely disappointed and Logan sighs awkwardly. “Leaving already, huh?”
He points to his ring pointedly reminding her of the reality of their situation. “Gotta get back to the wife.”
She doesn’t even try to hide her sneer as he mentions you. “Of course, just the perfect husband aren’t you?”
Logan doesn’t dignify that with a response, too distracted by what’s happening outside the window. People have begun to wander around aimlessly, some of them stumbling into the fencing. They just keep walking forward, knocking into the wood repeatedly, not once stopping. John’s got a stuck smile on his face as he leans against the grill, Logan can see smoke rising from where the flesh of his palm is melting onto the metal. A few people all run into each other, collapsing on the ground and just lying there.
They’re like robots, suddenly without command and unsure what to do. They’re following their programming without anyone putting a stop to it. Shiela follows his gaze and gasps. “Excuse me,” she mutters, practically running out of the room.
Logan tries to find you amongst all the mess but you’re nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” he growls out, looking back to where Shiela had run. He should have fucking known not to leave you on your own.
He stalks after Shiela, listening to her racing heart and the slam of a downstairs door. He follows her down the steps leading to her basement. It looks the same as every other one he’s ever been in. Except, for the metal door hidden behind a few shelving units. The only reason he spots it is because Shiela knocked over a can of paint in her rush toward it.
Anger brews hot and putrid in his gut. The claws come out unbidden, and the thought of you being locked away in that room pushes him forward. If you’re not in there, he’ll get an answer from Shiela one way or another. But he’s not going to let you get hurt because he didn’t have your back.
“What the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupts. Your head sinks back against the cool material of the table, brain surging back into place. Your teeth ache, white-hot pain rushing through your bones as Kimiko finally releases her grasp on you.
Kimiko gives Shiela the look of a dog who just got in trouble. “She found my amplifying device. I have to get rid of her.” She holds the device you found earlier out to Shiela.
So, she wasn’t as powerful as she pretended. She did need help. It explains why the entire neighborhood is always in the same area, she needs them close to keep control. “Whatever you’re doing is making my toys malfunction.”
Shiela hisses at Kimiko, she darts forward and slaps her hard across the back of the head. If you weren’t in excruciating and paralyzing pain, you’d flinch at the sound. Being as if your brain was just about to explode, though, you could give less of a shit if she beats her rabid dog up.
These two crazy bitches deserve each other. You just want a Tylenol and a nap at this point. “Well, aren’t you two twisted sisters?” Logan slips through the door, his claws glinting under the light of the room. “Toys?” He demands, eyes roaming the room desperately.
The second he sees you, strapped down and with blood pouring from your orifices, something slips over his face. It’s like a mask being ripped off. The man he pretends to be is ripped apart by the animal truly lurking within him. Neither women have time to even defend themselves. He goes for Kimiko first and all you see his claws plunging down before arterial blood sprays across your face.
You groan, tilting your chin the other way and spitting the metallic liquid out of your mouth. There are a long few minutes of screaming, clothes shredding, and blood splashing against every surface of the room. By the time he’s completely calmed down, you’re drenched in it.
You suck on your teeth, rolling your head limply and finally getting a good look at him. He’s panting, standing over their mutilated corpses with blood dripping down his claws. There’s a wrath on his face you’re happy to have never been on the other end of. But the second he looks at you, you see nothing but stark relief.
He breathes out your name, your real one, and surges towards you. “Claws!” You shout, hurting your head again. But he was a second away from accidentally skewering you. They’re put away in an instant as he undoes the straps holding you down.
You groan in relief as the pressure around your head and limbs is released. He perches himself on the edge of the table and scoops you into his chest.
You’re still loopy from Kimiko messing around in the grooves of your brain. The best you can manage is weakly draping your arms along his sides. He pulls you back and brushes the hair out of your face, laughing a little at the blood covering you. “They do anything to you?”
You shrug, “Besides turn my brain into a pressure cooker? No.”
The smile drops from his face and he glares down at the remains of the women. If you weren’t so tired, you’d think he wants to kill them again. “I should have been here.”
“Logan-” You want to tell him not to be ridiculous. You had insisted you could take care of yourself. Told him it would only be a conversation when you knew that was never going to be true. You’d gotten yourself into this, you were lucky he was there to get you out. But you don’t say anything because he interrupts you as he so often does.
“I can’t keep acting like this is all okay. Like I’m happy with how we treat each other. I thought I was going to lose you, I’m not going to keep pretending I don’t care about you.”
Your face screws up in confusion and you’re not sure you want to hear where he’s going with this. You’ve been used to this dynamic between the two of you for so long. You’re used to him treating you like he can't stand to breathe the same air as you. If this is going where you think it is, you’re not sure you can handle it.
“Logan,” you’re regaining some feeling in your limbs now. You use the returning strength to push away from him, shaking your head in disbelief. “No, you can’t do this. You can’t just change your-”
He’s incapable of letting you finish a single sentence. His hands wrap around your cheeks tugging you forward until your lips are brushing together. It’s enough of a shock to get you to stop talking. You don’t reciprocate, too stunned to even think about moving.
He brushes his lips against yours again, firmer this time. Under the layers of blood coating you both, you’re wholly enveloped by him. His scent, his arms, everything about him drapes over you like a warm blanket. Against your better judgment, you find yourself returning the kiss.
You move further into his lap, one hand holding his face and the other clutching at his hair, needing something to hold to keep you steady in this moment. Logan smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss without wasting another beat. His tongue moves gently across yours at first. A curious caress to see how well you two fit together. He groans when he gets a taste of you, pushing further in and kissing you like he wants to devour you.
There’s warmth blooming in your stomach and spreading all along your body. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and pain and this unidentifiable feeling that Logan is evoking from you. It’s not the sweet mushy, romantic kiss you always imagined with him.
This is desperate. Like a dying man’s last attempt at redemption. He’s tasting you like you’re rare, something to be savored. You feel like you’re the only thing left in existence. The only person left for him to admire. You forget the gore behind you, the tumultuous experiences you’ve had with him.
You let yourself fall into the moment, a blind leap of faith into a pool of all your hopes and desires. He’s better than you ever could have imagined. More desperate than your wildest fantasies. He makes no move to stop, even as the air becomes scarce and you both have to part longer. He just grips you tighter, hands wrapped around you like he’s worried if he lets go he’ll lose you.
He could, he could lose you. This kiss of his is putting you into a trance, distracting you from all he’s trying to make up for. Perhaps if he stops kissing you, you’ll remember it all and want nothing to do with him. But you don’t see that happening, you just see yourself craving more and more for him., You feel the addiction forming already. A deep-seated need in your bones is finally being sated, it will always need more from him.
When you can no longer survive on the shared oxygen between you both, you’re forced to part. Your cheeks tingle from the stubble of his beard and you know your lips are pink and swollen because his are too. You’re both still coated in blood and you share a familiar glean in your eyes.
“I never hated you,” he sounds breathless and you love that you’re the cause of it. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”
You scoff, but there are no cruel intentions behind it. “So you push me away before you ever get a chance to have me?”
He gives you a crooked smile, “I never said I was smart.” You can’t help but laugh at that. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, ignoring the puddles of blood and bits. “We'll have to call Charles. He needs to help the people out there.”
“We also need to let him know there’s no trafficking ring. Just one fucked psyche.” You shoot another glare at the pile that was Kimiko, still bitter about her experiment with your brain. As Logan helps you up the stairs of the basement, you stop him just before you reach the door.
He gives you a concerned look, like he thinks you’ve hurt something somehow. “I want to talk to you. Really talk to you about everything.” Concern gives way to dread and you can’t help but smile at the regretful look on his face. “But first,” his head perks in interest at your tone, “maybe we can finally enjoy that master bed together?”
“You know,” he leans down, swiping his arms under your knees and lifting you. You gasp, through your arms around his neck and squeezing until you worry you might suffocate him. “You really are the smart one of us, aren’t you?”
“Clearly.”
You’re not sure how well this transition to married couple to tentatively something else is going to go. But you have hope and it's kept you going for all these years. What's wrong with letting it linger a little longer?
a/n: Guess who's back, back again? Hint, it's Flux. I missed writing for them, so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Although, I worry the ending was too cheesy.
Reblogs, comments, likes, and requests are always appreciated !!
a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.
"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.
inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.
on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.
everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.
beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.
Way down along the stream
How sweet it will seem
Once more just to dream
In the moonlight
My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn
That you will be gone
But tonight
You belong to me
revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.
"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."
"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.
logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.
"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.
"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.
"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"
"no, we need to leave."
"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"
even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.
"tryin' to save you" he grunts.
"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.
"i'm not."
logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.
suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.
"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.
this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.
"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.
"charles xavier?"
in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.
"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.
"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."
visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.
"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."
the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.
"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."
you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.
"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."
logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.
you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.
logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.
"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.
"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.
"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.
logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.
SUMMARY: The X-men are heroes—they save the world, eradicate threats and protect both mutants and humans alike. You don't see it that way, though.
WARNINGS: one-sided e2l, fem!reader is stubborn and sassy af but it's valid, arguing, canon-level violence, scott's a dick, SMUT - 18+ only!
WC: 21k - MASTERLIST
A/N: i've always wanted to write a fic with this plot, it's been on my mind for AGES. happy reading!
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The first time you see them, it’s on your birthday.
Not being one for big, elaborate parties, you planned a quiet celebration instead—maybe a stroll through the lively city streets, followed by dinner with friends later. You had just visited your favourite store, buying a gift for yourself, and now you’re on your way back home.
The streets buzz with life as people shop, eat, and laugh, making it the perfect backdrop for a peaceful walk and some casual people-watching.
Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.
At first, you think it’s an earthquake—a quick jolt beneath your feet that sends a ripple of confusion through your body. But the tremor grows stronger, the ground shaking violently as everyone around you begins to panic, frantically looking around for the source, you included. And that’s when you see it.
A hulking, green monster stomping through the city streets like something out of a nightmare. It has to be at least twenty feet tall, its skin a sickly shade of green, its eyes glowing with rage. Cars bounce with each heavy footstep, leaving deep footprints in the cement in its wake.
People scream, scrambling to get out of its path, but you stand frozen, heart pounding as you try to make sense of what’s happening. In the blink of an eye, the city had been plunged into chaos. You lose track of your surroundings, too busy trying to keep your eyes on the monster headed your way, while also dodging the hoard of pedestrians running for their lives.
Until they show up.
Initially, you don’t even notice them. After all, there’s so much going on around you at this point you barely know what to do with yourself. Yet, through the dust and destruction, you see flashes of movement—figures darting toward the monster with a sense of purpose.
You don’t know who they are, but their bright blue and yellow suits make it seem like you should. At first glance, it’s hard not to feel a sense of awe. They move with such confidence, with their powers on full display for the world to see. You’ve never seen anything like it—a team of mutants using their powers in the open, fighting for what you assume is the greater good.
Maybe they can stop this!
The one first to act is a woman with white hair. She raises her arms to the sky, her eyes glowing a bright white as dark clouds swirl above, blocking out the sun. A flash of lightning slams into the monster's chest, forcing it to reel back with a thunderous roar of agony, and the crowd around you gasps, watching in wonder.
But when the lightning strikes a second time, it veers off course, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The structure groans under the impact, flames erupting from the point of contact as windows shatter, sending glass raining down onto the street below.
The collision sends you to the ground, and when you look up again, you see the power inside go out, all the lights flickering off.
Whatever awe you’d been feeling dissolves into concern, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.
Following her, a man with a glowing red visor strides forward. He’s clearly aiming to hit the monster, but the bright red beam shooting from his eyes slices through several cars in the street first, flipping them over and leaving them in smoldering wrecks. One of the blasts tears through a storefront, reducing it to rubble in a matter of seconds. More people scream and scatter, trying to escape the destruction.
From the corner of your eye, you see another mutant—a man with claws—lunge toward the monster, jumping onto cars to get closer to its head. But by using the parked cars as springboards, the weight of him causes the roof to sink in, and his claws leave deep gashes in the metal.
How heavy is this guy? Is he made of metal or something?
He’s fast, brutal, slashing at the green beast with some serious ferocity. Still, despite the attack, the monster’s strength prevails, and it easily tosses him aside, crashing into buildings, crowds—anything in the way. To your surprise, he always gets back up. And that should be good, right? They are fighting for the safety of the city.
But as debris rains down and cars are overturned, you can’t help but feel like this isn’t helping. You’re constantly dodging rubble, trying to find shelter, only for it to be destroyed seconds later. It’s like being in a war zone, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better.
And above it all, there’s a woman with red hair. She’s floating, and you watch from where you’re hiding as she lifts entire trees from their roots, hurling them at the monster in an attempt to slow it down. Except, much like her teammates, her attempt goes awry, and she misses, the trees now flying toward you.
You barely have the reflexes to dive out of the way.
Your heart races, breath coming in shallow bursts as you press yourself against a wall, trying to steady yourself. The sound of sirens blare in the distance, but it doesn’t seem like help is coming anytime soon. There’s too much going on. People are running, pushing each other aside, crying, screaming, trying to find safety.
Glancing around, you’re met with destruction—flames licking at the sidewalk, cars totaled, and building wreckage littering the streets. These mutants, while clearly powerful, are causing just as much destruction as the monster itself.
What should have been a simple takedown—a 6v1—has turned into a full-scale disaster.
And yet, they don’t stop. They don’t pause to help the people caught in the crossfire, don’t even seem to notice the damage they’re causing. They’re so focused on the monster, so focused on the fight, that they’ve lost sight of everything else.
Is this what heroism looks like? You’d been excited at first—amazed, even—thinking they were here to save the day. But now, standing in the middle of a city that’s being torn apart, you realize how wrong you were.
They don’t care. Not about the city. Not about the people.
Finally, with one last blast from the man with the visor, the monster collapses to the ground, defeated. It lets out a final roar before falling still, its massive body sprawled across the street.
The team stands over its body, their chests heaving with exertion, but they have smiles on their faces, feeling victorious. One by one, they board an aircraft, dragging the monster in with them, barely sparing a glance at the horrors they’ve caused. The white-haired woman doesn’t even bother to clear the storm clouds she summoned.
Within moments, they’re gone. You, and everyone else in the area, are left to deal with the fallout. Left to clean up their mess.
Happy birthday to me, I guess.
—
After that, you spend the next few days trying to process what had happened. You’re still in a state of shock, confusion, and disbelief, but then the media catches wind of what went down, and suddenly, it’s everywhere.
News channels replay the footage over and over, the headlines screaming about “our holy saviours” saving the day. They’re plastered across every screen, being hailed as protectors.
The X-Men.
A group of mutant superheroes, apparently. The reporters list them off one by one, like they’re celebrities you should have known about.
Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.
Mutants with powers like gods.
—
The second time you see them, you’re on vacation.
Sitting in a quaint café in the south of France, you’re enjoying a well-deserved break. The city you’re in is perfect—cobblestone streets winding through the village, vine-covered walls framing pastel-colored houses, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from nearby bakeries. It all feels like something out of a dream, the kind of peaceful retreat you’ve been desperate for after everything back home.
You order a frappé, and as you wait, you idly flip through a local newspaper, trying to see how much of your rusty high school French you can remember. It’s peaceful, quiet, exactly what you needed—until it’s not.
Movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention, and you glance over the edge of the newspaper, watching a group of tourists as they walk into the café. It’s not really anything odd, so you don’t think much of it—they’re dressed casually, like any group of vacationers.
Though, something about them tugs at the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you’ve seen them before.
You lower the newspaper entirely now, staring as you try to place where you recognize them from. The tall one with the red sunglasses, the woman with the striking white hair, the man in the leather jacket... You squint, the pieces slowly falling into place.
And then it hits you.
Oh, no way.
You’re halfway around the world, in a different country, on a different continent, and somehow, they’re here. At the same café.
Shifting in your seat, you’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when the barista arrives with your drink. He smiles warmly at you, placing the cup down on the table with a soft “voila madame,” but before you can even thank him, there’s a blur of motion.
One of them—Wolverine, you think—lunges at the barista, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back. The tray tips, and your frappé spills everywhere—all over the table, your newspaper, and, to your absolute horror, all over you.
“Logan, no!” you hear Storm shout, but it’s too late.
The cold drink soaks into your clothes, and you let out a startled yelp, jumping up as your chair topples over. Your clothes are ruined, your vacation ruined, and in the midst of all of this?
Wolverine—or Logan, you guess, is wrestling with the poor barista.
“What the hell?!” you shout, trying to shake off the liquid dripping down your legs. “Is this a joke?!”
No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.
The other mutants jump into action, and before you know it, the peaceful café is transformed into yet another battleground. Cyclops blasts a beam at the barista—who you now realize must be the target of whatever mission they’re on—but it misses, smashing into the wall behind you.
You’re furious, covered in a brown drink that makes it seem like you just had explosive diarrhea, and caught in yet another X-Men fiasco. All you wanted was a vacation. You don’t even know what’s happening anymore—who the barista is, what mission they’re on—but frankly, you don’t care.
This is absurd!
Without a second thought, you grab your bag and make a break for it, dodging overturned tables and debris as you make your way to the exit. You don’t bother looking back, your only thought being to get changed, and get as far away as possible.
After rounding the corner, putting some distance between yourself and the café, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. And then you hear it.
Boom.
The sound reverberates through the narrow streets, shaking the cobblestones beneath your feet. You whirl around, sticking your head out from the corner of the building, just in time to see a plume of smoke rising into the air from where the café once stood.
Your heart sinks.
They blew it up.
—
The third time you see them, it’s a really nice day outside.
It’s a week after you’ve returned home, and the weather had finally given you a break from the suffocating heat. You’re walking home from a lunch with an old friend, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Probably said friend sending you something stupid to laugh at later.
You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—
BAM!
Something slams into you from the side with the force of a freight train. You’re airborne for a second, weightless, before crashing hard onto the pavement, your breath knocked right out from your lungs.
Dazed, you groan and blink up at the sky, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just hit me? Your vision swims as you sit up, shoulder throbbing from the impact. Twisting your neck to see whatever the hell that was, you immediately regret it, wincing at the sharp pain.
Great, just great.
When you finally manage to sit up, you spot the culprit.
Cyclops.
Are you fucking serious?!
His back is to you, dusting off his ugly uniform like nothing happened. You look around, and notice that the street in front you is in ruins—buildings have gaping holes where windows used to be, chunks of the road are crumbling, people covered in blood scurrying away as fast as they can.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you catch a glimpse of the giant mechanical robots looming above, scanning for their targets. One of them must’ve thrown Cyclops into you.
You can see the others—Jean, Storm, Beast (some new guy)—flying around, saving the world. That’s codeword for: wreaking havoc, destroying your city.
Anger boils up inside you, hot and unrelenting as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your sore shoulder. But as you open your mouth, a gruff voice cuts through the air.
"Good job, dickhead. You just hurt a civilian."
Your gaze snaps toward the sound. Wolverine’s standing a few feet away, claws out, glaring at the guy who sent you flying.
“I was thrown, Logan,” he says passively. “Maybe if you kept the Sentinels off me—”
“Maybe if you didn’t stand there like a damn target, you wouldn’t get thrown!” The clawed mutant growls, taking a step closer. His whole posture is tense, like he’s barely holding himself back from tackling the other man into the ground (you would pay to have him do it). “Seriously, Summers, it’s like you want to get tossed around.”
Cyclops doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve got bigger problems than this right now,” he dismisses, not even glancing back at you to check if you’re okay.
Well, there goes the last of your patience.
"Are you kidding me?!" you shout, throwing your hands up in disbelief. They completely ignore you, too absorbed in their petty bickering to acknowledge that you’re still standing there, seething.
Before you can rip into them, something catches your eye—a Sentinel (is that what they’re called?), hovering above them, charging up a blast. Its arm is raised, energy crackling at the barrel of its cannon, aimed directly at the two distracted morons.
“Oh, for the love of—” you mutter under your breath before diving forward.
The blast hits you square in the chest, but instead of pain, all you feel is the heat of the energy surging through your body, like lightning spreading through every inch of your veins. It crackles and burns, the force building up inside you until it feels like you’re about to explode.
Then, with a deep breath, you thrust your hands forward, channeling and releasing the blast right back at the robot, blowing it apart. Metal and circuits rain down, the Sentinel crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.
Silence falls.
You’re panting, feeling the leftover energy fizzle out of your fingertips. Slowly, you turn back around, and unsurprisingly, Cyclops–or Scott, as you’ve heard in the news—and Logan are staring at you like you just walked on water. Well, the clawed one is. You can’t really see the other brown-haired man’s expression due to his visor.
“Woah, bub—”
“Oh, hell no!” You spin around fully, pointing an accusatory finger at both of them. “Neither of you get to speak! I just saved your asses because you were too busy bickering like children to notice the massive death robot about to blow you to pieces!”
Logan’s mouth quirks up, but he wisely stays silent.
“And this is exactly why I hate you people!” You continue, exasperated. “You swoop in, make a mess, destroy everything in your path, and then just leave like nothing happened! You think this is helping anyone? You think the people running for their lives right now give a damn about your little team squabbles?”
Scott doesn’t even blink. “We’re just trying to help,” he says evenly, like he’s rehearsed the line a thousand times.
“Help?” you scoff incredulously. “You only tell yourself you’re doing that to make yourself feel better. How many casualties do you think are coming out of this, hm? What’s the body count gonna be after today? Or do you not even bother counting anymore?”
His audacity makes you want to laugh. He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re not done.
"All this mess, the destroyed buildings, the people who won’t make it home tonight because you couldn’t keep your damn fight contained! You’re so focused on stopping the big bad guys that you don’t even realize how much carnage you leave behind. Who’s cleaning up after you? Who’s paying for this?! " You gesture around wildly. "News flash: the people whose lives you’re currently ruining!”
Beside him, Logan’s smirk fades, and he begins to step forward with his hands raised. “Listen, darlin’, we’re doin’ the best we can. We didn’t ask for this fight—”
"Oh, don’t give me that ‘best we can’ bullshit," you snap.
“We’re here to protect people,” Scott adds in, trying to maintain authority. “It’s not always clean, but we are making a difference—"
“Shut the fuck up! I’m not finished!” You interrupt, shaking your head. “Every day. Every damn day there’s something new.”
With the face Logan’s making, you’d think he’s going to start going in on you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just watches, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unnerving, but you don’t care. You’ve had enough.
"And you," you say, turning your ire toward him, "You couldn’t have, I don’t know, used your super speed or whatever the hell you do to catch him before he crashed into me?"
His eyebrow quirks up. “Super speed?” he chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that fast. Was a little busy with the giant killer robots.”
You tilt your head back in frustration and turn on your heel. "I’m done. I don’t care what kind of mission you’re on, or how noble you think it is. If you're planning to lay waste to the city yet again, be my guest.”
Giving no time for a response, you stalk off, weaving through the wreckage of the city streets, your heart still pounding in your chest.
—
A couple weeks have passed since the last incident, and the X-Men seem to have disappeared from the headlines. You haven’t seen them or heard their whereabouts splashed across the news like you’ve gotten used to—though not by choice, of course. Whenever they do anything, the world seems to bow at their feet.
You don’t get it.
The flashy suits, the team name, the way they strut around as if they’re the Gods of the mutant race. It’s too much, too loud. They act like they’re above it all, as if their powers and heroics put them on a pedestal. Better than those who prefer to lay low, who have no choice but to blend in.
You’ve spent years hiding your powers, keeping them buried deep where no one can see. When you were younger, you didn’t have a choice. Your mutation made you a target—bullied, beaten up, pushed around for being different.
You learned quickly that being a mutant didn’t make you special. It made you vulnerable.
So, you hid. You stayed quiet, under the radar. It was safer that way.
And then here are the X-Men, parading around like their abilities make them untouchable, like they’ve forgotten what it’s like for the rest of you. It’s not that you don’t believe in helping others—you just don’t believe in the way they do it.
In your opinion, it’s all performance. From what you’ve experienced and seen up close, they always arrive with a fanfare, ready to jump into action, and do whatever they can to exterminate the threat. Yet, when the dust settles, it’s mutants like you who are left to pick up the pieces.
The ones who don’t wear brightly coloured costumes or shout about unity. You’re the ones who have to keep moving, keep surviving, without any recognition.
But it's not like you need recognition. You never have. What you need is peace.
—
You’re on the phone with your mom, trying to reassure her for the millionth time this week.
"Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine," you say, pacing the length of your small living room. You glance at the muted TV screen, the news still cycling through the usual mayhem. "You’ve seen the news recently, right? We’ve got the X-Men to take care of all this stuff—"
Knock. Knock.
You freeze mid-sentence, your words trailing off as the sound of someone at your door interrupts the call. Your heart skips a beat, and your voice drops. "Mom, I’ll call you back."
Barely waiting for her to reply, you end the call, staring at the door like it might explode.
A knock at this hour? Unannounced? You waver, your mind racing with possibilities.
Delivery? A neighbour? You’re not expecting anyone.
Cautiously, you make your way toward the door, hand hovering over the handle as you listen. No more knocks, just the faint hum of the outside world. You take a breath, steeling yourself as you turn the handle and crack the door open.
The tufts of hair, the thick stubble, the edge in his eyes—it’s him. Wolverine. And just as your brain registers his face, you also notice the glint of metal where his claws are already halfway out.
Instincts kick in, and before he can get a word in, you push against the door, trying to slam it shut.
Still, he’s faster.
His fist punches through the wood, and with a metallic snikt, his claws extend fully, slicing through the door as if it were made of paper. He pushes it open again, forcing it against your effort, and the sheer strength sends you stumbling back.
“What the fuck?” you gasp, eyes wide as you steady yourself. “How did you even find me?”
Stepping inside, he says, “picked up your scent and followed it,” matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
For a moment, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. “That’s… that’s actually really creepy,” you manage, still trying to process the fact that he just said that without a hint of shame.
“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs.
You take a step back, putting more distance between you and the man with the claws standing in your apartment. “Okay, well, you found me. Now what?”
His eyes lock onto yours. “I need you to come with me.”
“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.
“You’re not safe here.”
“Oh, I’m not safe?” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Maybe if you and your merry band of idiots didn’t keep causing world-ending disasters, I wouldn’t need to be safe!”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Sentinels are tracking you down.”
You falter. “What are you talking about?”
“You used your powers,” he states. “Killed a Sentinel. That’s all it takes for them to target you.”
Blinking, you feel anger rush to the surface, your skin tingling with rage. “I didn’t kill anyone. They’re fucking robots.”
“They don’t see it that way,” he counters. “You took one down, and now they know what you are.”
Part of you knows there’s merit in what he’s saying, but you don’t want to hear it. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some mutant-robot war. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t ask for any of this!” you hiss, glaring at him. “And now you’re telling me I’m on some kill list because I defended myself? Because I defended you?!”
His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite read, but he stays silent, watching you carefully. Your words start flying faster now, venom spilling into each one.
“I’m the one who took that thing down because you and that one-eyed bitch boy were too busy being immature! You weren’t even paying attention, and that thing almost blasted you both.” Your fingers ball into fists. "I saved both of you, and now I’m the one who has to run?"
Logan's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at the accusation. “We weren’t—”
“Don’t even try to deny it,” you cut him off. “If it weren’t for me, the two of you would be dead right now. And now I’m supposed to just go with you to your mansion and hide out? Like that’s going to fix th—”
You don’t get to end your rant, because he has stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders, gripping you firmly. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.
“This is serious,” he spits, eyes boring into yours. “You stay here, you die.”
His words slam into you. He’s not trying to scare you—he’s telling the truth.
“You don’t get to be stubborn about this,” he continues firmly. “You think you’re pissed off now? Wait until they come crashin' through your door in the middle of the night, and you don’t have a chance to fight back.”
Wrenching yourself out of his grasp, you take a few steps back. “I just—” you begin to say, but the words feel tangled in your throat. The denial is still there, but it’s weakening, cracking. “I don’t want to run.”
“You’re not running,” he sighs, his voice softening ever so slightly. “You’re buying time. Time to fight back, time to survive. But if you stay here? There’s none of that.”
You want to argue more, want to scream at him to get away, to not drag you into his fight, but instead, you let out a long, shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. “Fine,” you breath out.
He nods, finally releasing his grip on you and stepping back. “Good. Pack up your shit. We leave in half an hour.”
Then, he walks over to your couch and plops down like he owns the place, crossing his arms as if settling in for a casual wait.
You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Unbelievable.”
Ignoring him, you turn and head into your bedroom, where you start throwing clothes into a duffel bag—jeans, a couple of shirts, whatever you can grab quickly. Your movements are hurried, fuelled by a mix of frustration and the creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. Grabbing your toiletries, you stuff them into a smaller bag, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that some random mutant tracked you down, and now you have to leave your life until you’re safe.
You peer back into the hallway, hearing the faint creak of the couch as Logan shifts around. I’m gonna kill this guy, you think to yourself.
Once everything is packed and you’ve zipped your bag, you head back into the main room, only to see said random mutant still sprawled on your couch, looking far too comfortable, with a cigar in his hand.
“Seriously?” you say, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.”
He grunts in response but doesn’t move. Typical.
You glance at the clock—still a few minutes left of the half-hour he allotted you, but there’s no point in dragging it out. “I’m ready,” you say flatly, heading toward the door.
Logan stands, stretches his arms over his head, and cracks his neck like he’s waking up from a nap. “Let’s go then.”
—
The ride is tense and quiet, which suits you just fine. You’d rather not talk to him anyway. Every now and then, you let out a loud sigh, unable to hold back the annoyance you’re feeling. Each time, you feel Logan’s eyes dart toward you from the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t say anything. Well, that is, until—
“Can you shut the fuck up?” he growls, keeping his eyes on the road.
You clench your jaw, shifting in your seat. “I didn’t even say anything, jackass.”
He huffs, clearly not in the mood for an argument, but the strain between you is almost impossible to ignore. You cross your arms, staring out the window, observing the landscape shift as the drive continues.
Eventually, you can see the outline of the mansion, and you watch as it gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. Upon arrival, He pulls the car up to the front and cuts the engine. You both sit there for a moment, mute.
“Well, here we are,” he mumbles after the pause stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, glancing over at you.
“Great,” you say sarcastically, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door.
Logan walks ahead without saying a word, leading the way up the grand stone steps toward the front door. You trail behind, your mood darkening with every step, glaring at the perfectly polished entrance.
The doors open before you even reach them, and you’re greeted by an older man in a wheelchair—Charles Xavier, if you remember correctly. The famous telepath. The genius behind the mutant team (some news anchor's words, not yours). His expression is kind, but you’re in such a bad mood, you don’t even bother trying to seem polite.
“Welcome,” He says with a warm smile, his eyes assessing you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. “Logan’s told me a lot about you.”
You press your lips together in a line. “Yeah? Well, don’t get too excited.”
Logan grunts beside you. “She’s got a bit of an attitude,” he mutters to Charles, then turns to you, gesturing you to follow him. “Come on.”
Inwardly groaning, you have no choice but to follow him. Everything about this place screams “too good to be true,” and you hate it already. You’re used to keeping your head down, blending in, not being surrounded by people who wear their powers on their sleeves like some badge of honour.
As you walk through the halls, a few faces appear—other mutants, some of them kids, watching curiously as you pass by. You can feel their eyes on you, can hear the whispers already starting about the new arrival.
Charles wheels alongside you, still smiling, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You remind me of Logan when he first joined us,” he says thoughtfully.
That stops you in your tracks.
You whip your head toward the man, giving him a piercing look. “Do not say that. We are nothing alike.”
On your other side, Logan smirks. “Not sure if I should be offended or not.”
“I’m serious.” If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.
Chucking softly, Charles seems completely unaffected by your outburst. “You’re both a bit rough around the edges, but you’ll find your place here.”
“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Because that’s exactly what I want to do.”
Deeper into the mansion, you catch sight of the X-Men you’ve seen before: Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey. They all turn to look at you, sizing you up. You don’t flinch—you just stare back, your expression hard.
Pulling your duffel bag higher on your shoulder, you rip your eyes away from theirs, and keep walking, following Logan down the long, quiet hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a door.
“This is your room,” he grunts, nodding toward it. “Try not to break anything.”
Choosing silence, you push the door open. Stepping inside, you expect the bare minimum—a bed, maybe a closet—but instead, you’re met with a surprisingly large space. There’s a massive bed in the center of the room, a desk by the window, and, to your surprise, a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony.
You drop your bag by the door, glancing around, trying to shake off the unease. This is way too nice for a prisoner. You walk toward the balcony doors, curious despite yourself, and when you pull them open, the cool breeze hits you immediately.
Once you’re outside, you realize something that immediately makes your stomach drop.
The balcony is shared. And right next to your side, leaning against the railing with a cigar between his fingers, is Logan.
You halt mid-motion, eyes fixed on him in stunned silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag of his cigar. “Surprise.”
You groan, turning your back on him and walking toward the opposite edge of the balcony, trying to calm the annoyance inside you. Of all the people you could’ve been stuck beside, it had to be him. It’s not enough that he dragged you here, but now there’s a chance you’re going to have to see him every time you step outside.
“So what now?” you mutter, staring out over the mansion grounds, the manicured gardens below looking like something out of a postcard. “I’m just supposed to stay here, be a part of your little mutant club?”
Taking another slow pull on his cigar, “You’re supposed to stay alive. Everythin’ else? That’s up to you.”
“But why do you suddenly care?” you ask. “I’ve seen the way you operate. You and your team sweep in, fight your battles, and then leave everyone else in the dirt. You don’t care about the collateral damage—hell, you cause half of it.”
Logan pauses, his cigar halfway to his lips. He doesn’t answer right away, and the brief hesitation only makes your irritation spike. You press on, inching closer, voice laced with accusation.
“Why now?” you press. “Why drag me into this when you’ve never cared about anyone else in the crossfire?”
Logan finally turns to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his expression hardened. “This ain’t about me ‘caring,’” he says flatly. “This is about survival. You killed a Sentinel, whether you like it or not. That puts a target on your back.”
“Yeah, you’ve made that very clear,” you bite out. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why me? Why am I suddenly important to you?”
Logan’s eyes darken, drilling into yours. “You’re not important to me,” he says flatly. “But they won’t stop until they get you. The destruction that’ll come from that—if your stubborn ass fought back, which I know it would, by the way—would be much greater than anything we would cause.”
“Doubt that,” you snarl bitterly. You don’t linger for the sound of his response, spinning on your heel and walking back into your room, slamming the balcony door behind you.
The bed is large and you can’t deny how inviting it looks after the day you’ve had. You flop onto it face-first, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.
You’re barely able to reflect on the chaotic day you’ve had before your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into a deep slumber, the exhaustion from everything catching up to you.
—
You’re jolted awake by a loud, aggressive knock on your bedroom door. The sound is so forceful it feels like the entire frame is rattling. You release a sound, half groan, half sigh, steeped in frustration. Your face is still buried in your pillow, and you curse whoever decided to ruin what little sleep you managed to get.
“Get up,” Logan’s gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast in ten.”
Ah yes. Of-fucking-course it's him. Who else would it be?
Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw on some clothes and make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before opening the door, ready to curse him, but he's already striding down the hallway, hardly bothering to check if you're following. You roll your eyes, your steps slow and begrudging as you move to follow
As you catch up, you can’t help but throw him a sideways glare. “Why are you acting like my personal bodyguard?”
“Gotta make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”
You scoff, crossing your arms as you fall into step beside him. “You don’t even know what I can do.”
Logan’s lips twitch into a lazy smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off his face. “Exactly,” he says, his tone almost amused. “Which is why today, we’re gonna test you.”
You stop in your tracks, staring at his back. “Test me? What the hell does that mean?”
He stops too, turning to face you. “Means you’re gonna show me what you’re capable of.”
Teeth clenched, you feel the slow rise of aggravation mingling with apprehension. “I’m not some science experiment.”
“No,” he agrees, “but you’re not a regular person, either. You need to know your limits—and how to handle what’s coming.”
Groaning, you drag your hands down your face incredulously. “I don’t even know what to say back to that. All I know is that I’m hungry.”
—
The kitchen of Xavier’s mansion is bustling with activity as the two of you walk in. The rest of the team is gathered around a large table at the centre of the room, and you spot Jean, Cyclops, Storm, and a few others sitting together, chatting, but you feel no desire to join them.
Rather, you gravitate toward a smaller table by the window, hoping to get some peace while you choke down breakfast. The chair scrapes lightly as you pull it out and sit down, fully expecting to be left alone.
But to your surprise, Logan follows and plops down in the seat across from you.
You raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
He shrugs and digs into his food. "Eating. You got a problem with that?"
You cast a quick look toward the large table where the rest of the team sits. It feels strange, having him eat with you, especially when the rest of his team is so obviously waiting for him to join them.
"No," you murmur, shaking your head as you return to your plate. "Just didn’t think you’d stray from the flock."
“They’re fine without me.”
You push your food around with your fork, trying to push past the heavy air of discomfort in the room. Everyone keeps glancing in your direction, and you sense their curiosity, the questions hovering in silence, but no one has the courage to ask. And honestly, you’re grateful for the space.
Just as you’re finishing up, a low voice catches your attention.
"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”
Tensing, your fork clatters onto your plate. The world around you dulls, and all you can hear is that word echoing in your head. Weak. You’ve been called a lot of things in your life, but never that.
Slowly, you push your chair back and stand up as you turn to face the table where she and the others are seated. “Say it louder, please,” you say calmly.
The chatter dies instantly, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room finds you. Jean's face turns ashen, her eyes blown wide in shock. She wasn’t expecting you to overhear. Her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s trying to find a way to backtrack, but you know what you heard.
Before Jean can stammer out an excuse, Scott stands up, positioning himself between you and her, his jaw tight and his posture rigid. “You heard wrong,” he says sternly. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”
You take a calculated step forward, arms crossed in defiance. “Didn’t mean anything?” you repeat sarcastically. “She just called me weak. Right here. In front of everyone. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”
Scott’s jaw clenches tighter “She wasn’t trying to insult you. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work yet.”
“That’s the excuse?” you laugh dryly. “Maybe you should teach her how to keep her mouth shut instead of making assumptions about people she doesn’t know.”
If even possible, the friction between you swells, growing heavier with each passing second. Everyone in the room watches the standoff, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of what’s going to happen next. You can feel Logan’s presence behind you, but he doesn’t interfere. He’s letting you handle this.
“You don’t belong here,” Scott states, like he’s trying to remind you of your place. “You’re not part of this team, and you sure as hell don’t understand what it takes to survive here.”
Raising an eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, One-eye? You gonna lecture me? Or better yet, why don’t you blast me with those laser eyes of yours? Show me how strong you are.”
His fists clench, and for a moment, you see the control slip. His visor glows red, just for a split second, as his anger spikes.
"Careful," you taunt, challenging him. "Wouldn’t want to lose control, would you? I'm sure you've never done that before."
That does it.
A beam shoots out from Scott’s visor. Fast, ferocious, and headed straight for you. There’s a collective gasp from the others, chairs scraping as people push back, shocked by the sudden escalation. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, your eyes locked onto Scott’s as the beam strikes you square in the chest.
Instead of being knocked back, or worse, killed, the energy from the blast surges into you, seeping into your bones, crackling through every nerve. Your skin tingles as the power courses through you, your body absorbing every ounce of it. Once the assault is over, you raise your head, feeling your eyes and veins begin to glow with a deep, burning red.
Jean’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Unfortunately for you, you don't get the chance to blow him to pieces, because Logan flies forward and grabs your arm, pulling you out of the room. Nobody else moves—too stunned—as he drags you into the hallway. You blink your eyes, the glow fading, but you can feel the residual energy from Scott’s blast still buzzing under your skin.
Both out of sight, he finally releases you.
You glare at him, still rattled from the confrontation. “What the hell? Why'd you interfere?”
He just shrugs, completely unfazed. “You handled yourself enough. Now we know what you can do. Follow me.”
“Follow you where?” you ask.
He motions down the hallway. “Danger Room. We’re gonna push those limits a little further.”
Gawking at him for a second, it takes a moment, but then you smirk. You want to know just how far your powers can go.
—
“Fuck!” you curse as you’re flung backward, your body slamming against a stone wall. Your back hits hard, knocking the wind out of you as the simulated-Sentinel hurls a car in your direction. The screech of metal fills the air as the vehicle crashes just mere inches from where you were standing moments ago.
Rubble showers from above, the robot in front of you towering menacingly. Raising its arm, another blast begins charging in its palm, ready to incinerate you.
You scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as you sprint away, ducking and weaving between the wreckage of cars and crumbling buildings that make up the simulated cityscape. The Sentinel fires again, the blast narrowly missing as you dodge behind an overturned truck. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, every muscle screaming in protest.
I can’t keep this up.
Another blast lights up the area around you, and you dive out of the way, the heat of the attack singeing your skin. You’re quick, but not quick enough to outrun the onslaught from this machine.
Then it hits you—you don’t have to outrun it.
You remember the blast from way back, how your body absorbed the energy, and how in the dining hall, you took on Scott’s beam like it was nothing. You can do it again. You can take its power and turn it back on itself.
Gritting your teeth, you stop running. The air buzzes with electricity, the earth trembling beneath you as the next shot hurtles your way.
It hammers into your chest, and once again, your body is filled with energy. In an instant, you leap into the air, propelled by the newfound strength coursing through your body, and the ground disappears beneath you as you soar upward.
At the peak of your jump, you clench your fist, channeling all that power into one focused point. Then, you bring your fist down on the Sentinel’s head, the impact echoing through the simulation as your punch connects, and the robot’s head shatters under the blow, metal fragments flying in every direction as its massive body crumples to the ground.
Sparks shoot out of its severed neck, and with a final groan of machinery, the robot collapses into a heap of broken parts at your feet.
“Good work,” Logan’s voice crackles over the comms, far too calm for what you’ve just been through. “Let’s see how you handle another.”
There’s no time for more than a muttered curse under your breath, because another Sentinel is dropped into the simulation. This one’s faster, more agile, and doesn’t waste time by charging up blasts.
It exists solely to hunt you down.
“Cut me some slack,” you groan, half out of breath as you duck behind the ruins of a building. Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, adrenaline coursing through you like a wildfire.
This one isn’t like the last. It’s not using energy blasts—it’s fast, agile, and persistent. It rushes toward you, its massive hands swiping through the air, tearing through the simulated city with ease.
Grinding your teeth, a wave of exasperation takes over. This fight is harder, the machine barely giving you a chance to react, and your body is already starting to wear down. Your mind races, desperate for a solution as you sidestep its attacks, trying to stay one step ahead. You feel cornered, trapped.
The frustration builds, growing into something more, and before you realize it, that frustration becomes fuel. It ignites inside you, your own emotions transforming into energy, pushing past the limits you didn’t know you had.
Your veins pulse, your eyes glowing white this time, not from absorbed power but from something deeper—your own anger, your own strength. The energy bubbles inside you, filling every cell of your body until you can’t hold it back anymore.
With a scream, you release it, propelling a massive ball of crackling energy hurling toward the Sentinel. The impact is immediate, ripping through the metal and bursting into a brilliant, blinding light. It sends shockwave through the entire simulation, the machine imploding, its parts scattering across the battlefield.
And when the light fades, the Sentinel is gone—nothing more than a smouldering heap of twisted metal.
You stand there, chest heaving, the glow in your eyes slowly fading as the last traces of energy drain from your body. Your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumble to the ground, utterly exhausted.
The simulation flickers for a moment, then abruptly shuts off, the room returning to its normal, metallic walls as the fake cityscape disappears. You’re still on the floor, gasping for breath, when Logan steps into view, arms crossed as he peers down at you with a pleased grin.
“Well,” he says, voice calm, “that wasn’t too bad.”
You shoot him a glare from the ground, too tired to move. “You… are such… an asshole.”
He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Get up. We’re just getting started.”
—
He was right. You were just getting started.
The thought gnaws at you as you trudge alongside Logan, heading back to your room to clean up before dinner. Every muscle in your body aches, and you can already feel the soreness creeping in, promising a week of pain. You’re starting to suspect this is Logan’s way of getting back at you for all the snark and attitude you’ve thrown his way, but damn, is it painful. You don’t even want to think about how much worse you’re going to feel in the morning.
You feel like a zombie, dragging your feet, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your limbs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, and each step invites fresh wave of exhaustion through your body. The man with you, of course, seems perfectly fine. He walks a few steps ahead of you, not even winded from the grueling day of combat drills, sparring, and whatever else he thought up to make sure you were put through the wringer.
“Maybe I should be a little nicer to you,” you rationalize, but who are you kidding.
With a terse grunt, he acknowledges you by tilting his head back. “You’ll live.”
You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted at best. You don’t even have the energy to be annoyed right now.
Upon reaching your room, you feel like you could collapse right then and there. You mumble something vaguely resembling ‘see you later’ to Logan before slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind you.
The first thing you do is toss your bag onto the floor, not caring where it lands, and head straight for the bathroom. You peel off your sweaty, dirt-covered clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the day.
After that quick, blissful shower, you drag yourself out, towel off, and pull on the first comfortable clothes you can find. Your bed is calling to you, and it doesn’t take long for you to lie down on it. The softness of the mattress beneath you is heaven, and you think you might just fall asleep right there and take a small nap before heading to eat.
But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the light pouring in through the balcony doors. The warm, golden glow of the setting sun catches your attention, and despite how drained you are, you find yourself turning to look.
What you see is breathtaking. Shades of pink, orange, and deep purple.
It’s too beautiful to ignore.
Groaning again, you force yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes. You can’t help it. Something about the sight draws you in, and before you know it, you’re standing and heading toward the balcony. You slide the door open and step outside, the evening breeze washing over you as you lean against the railing, taking in the view.
A few minutes pass, the world around you quiet except for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The sound of Logan’s door sliding breaks your focus. You glance over just as he steps out onto his side of the shared balcony, wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.
Saying nothing, he steps beside you at the railing, resting against it as his eyes scan the horizon.
You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His arms are crossed over the railing, and it’s almst impossible not to notice the way the tank top lets you see his biceps, the muscles in his arms strong from the day’s activity. You are a woman, after all.
He looks relaxed. His stubble catches the last bits of the sunlight, and as your gaze travels upward, you notice something you hadn’t bothered to see before.
The crinkles at the sides of his eyes. They’re faint, barely there, but in this light, they’re more visible, adding something unexpectedly... soft to his otherwise intimidating appearance.
Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause.
What the fuck?
You snap your gaze back to the sunset, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You just spent the entire day getting your ass handed to you by this man, and now you’re here checking out his arms? His arms? And thinking the crinkles around his eyes are cute? Suppressing a groan, you want to slap yourself for even entertaining the thought.
Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not going down that road.
Taking a deep breath, you try to bring your attention back to the sunset. The reason you went outside to begin with. You have no idea why you’re suddenly noticing these things about him—probably exhaustion making your brain short-circuit.
Yup. That’s it.
He shifts slightly beside you, breaking the silence. “Nice view"
You nod, swallowing down the weird feelings swirling in your head. “Yeah,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say anything more without sounding ridiculous.
The two of you stand there for a few more minutes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear, the sky dimming into deep purples and blues. But the minute your thoughts start to drift back to him, you straighten up, clapping your hands together and quickly turning on your heel to head back inside.
“Well, I’m done,” you say abruptly. “I’m gonna crash.”
Logan doesn’t move, but you can feel his eyes following you as you slide the door closed behind you, your mind still reeling from whatever the hell that was.
Collapsing back onto your bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, determined to forget about the whole thing.
—
A few hours later, when it’s dark out, you finally wake up. The room is dim, and for a moment, you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling. As you start to roll over, something catches your attention—a smell.
It's warm, savoury. Your stomach growls almost immediately, making you realize with a start that you slept through dinner.
Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and that’s when you spot it—a tray of food sitting on the desk in your room. You can make out the outline of a warm meal: some kind of stew, a couple of bread rolls, and what looks like a glass of water. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, as you climb out of bed and shuffle toward the desk, turning on the light.
Next to the tray, there’s a small note:
Figured you’d be too tired to get dinner. Eat up.
– L
You stare at the note. Logan? Bringing you food? It doesn’t exactly fit with the version of him you’ve been dealing with all day, but then again, there seems to be a lot about him that doesn’t quite fit the mold you expected.
Too hungry to keep thinking and not eat, you set the note down and grab the spoon, dipping it into the stew. The first bite warms you from the inside out, and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.
Surprisingly flavourful—rich and nourishing, it’s the perfect remedy for the exhausting day behind you
Still, you can’t help your eyes from wandering back to the note. Maybe it really is the fatigue messing with your head again, making you chalk it up to be something it’s not.
—
The next morning, you're not woken up by banging on your door, which is a relief. You stretch, the soreness still lingering but not nearly as bad as you expected. After freshening up and pulling on some clothes, you step into the hallway, and unexpectedly, Logan is already waiting for you.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and you blink at him, still waking up, unsure why he’s there. “Uh... morning?” you get out, albeit you can’t hide the confusion in your tone.
A short nod in greeting. “Morning. Ready for breakfast?”
You hesitate for a moment, then decide to take the plunge. “Yeah I am, but…um, thanks for the food last night, it was good.” you say quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.
The gesture had caught you off guard, and though you don’t want to make a fuss, it’s worth noting
“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs casually.
Nodding in understanding, you’re ready to move on when he adds, almost offhandedly, “Y’know, you’re actually kinda pretty when you’re asleep. Not being a little shit helps.”
You freeze mid-step, your mind short-circuiting for a moment as you process the words that just left his lips.
Flustered and irritated all at once, you glare at him. “Excuse me?”
Logan smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. “You heard me.”
Your face heats up. “I am not a little shit,” you yelp, quickening your pace to catch up to him.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, gazing at you from over his shoulder. You open your mouth to fire back, but the smug look in his eyes makes you hesitate.
He’s messing with you on purpose.
Asshole, you think, fuming but trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when he called you pretty.
—
The kitchen goes silent the moment you and Logan step through the door, a noticeable difference from yesterday. All eyes are locked on you, the pressure in the room almost solid, begging to be cut through.
Students and X-Men alike are watching, probably expecting some kind of replay of the day prior's events, but you pay them no mind, keeping your eyes straight ahead and making a beeline for a table at the back.
You drop into a seat, picking up a piece of toast and acting like the room isn’t on high alert. Logan joins you again without a word, sitting across from you and digging into his food. He doesn’t even glance at the others, as if the room full of curious onlookers doesn’t exist.
The only sounds are the clink of silverware and voices slowly picking up again as people realize nothing dramatic is about to happen.
Chewing, you glance at the man across from you, still quietly working through his meal. You swallow, then clear your throat. “So... what’s the plan for today?”
He looks up from his plate. “Charles wants to see you this morning.”
You frown, unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Why? Did I break something without knowing it?”
He snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not in trouble, smartass. He’s just gonna fill you in on some things. Mainly the Sentinels.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You need to know what you’re up against, what we’re all dealing with. He’ll catch you up to speed.”
“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”
The clawed mutant leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking again. “Look, it’s not gonna be fun, but you need to know. Better to hear it from him than from me.”
“I’ll take that as your way of saying ‘good luck,” you breathe out.
He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”
Logan finishes his meal and stands up, leaving his empty plate behind. “I’ll drop you off at Charles’s office. You’ll be with him for the morning.”
You follow suit, pushing away your half-eaten plate. “Fantastic,” you mumble sarcastically, but at the same time, you know this is necessary. After all, the threat you’re dealing with is real, and being ignorant about it won’t do you any good.
—
“So, how can they be stopped?”
You ask the question before you even sit down. Charles is already waiting for you in his office, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his gaze calm and soft.
He takes a measured breath, glancing toward the window for a moment before responding. “Stopping the Sentinels is... complicated. They’ve grown more advanced than we ever anticipated.”
“I gathered that.”
“They are highly adaptive machines,” he continues. “Designed to hunt and neutralize mutants, they learn from every encounter. They absorb information, adjust tactics, and over time, they become more effective.”
His words make you squirm with discomfort, and you glance around the room, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your stomach.
“And now I’m one of their targets,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.
Leaning forward slightly, he says, “Yes. They’ve already locked onto you because of your encounter with them. They don’t differentiate between self-defence and aggression. They see you as a target, simply because you fought back.”
You exhale sharply. “So, what’s your plan?”
Charles meets your gaze. “There is a command center—a hub that controls their network. If we can locate it and destroy it, we believe it will disrupt the entire Sentinel operation. Without the command structure, the Sentinels will become non-functional.”
You stare for a beat, mentally piecing together the details. “You believe?”
“It’s our best theory,” he says evenly. “We’ve been gathering intel for some time now. And we’re planning a mission. A final push to put an end to this threat once and for all.”
The words linger, thick and weighty, in the space between you, You can sense where this is going. Your fingers drum against your arm, a nervous habit you can’t seem to shake.
“You want me to be a part of it.”
He remains unfazed. “I believe you have an ability that could be crucial to the mission. You’ve already demonstrated your capability against the Sentinels in training yesterday, and in real life.”
A bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stifle it. “Yeah, but I’m not one of you. I don’t want to be part of some... grand battle. That’s not me.”
Watching you closely, his gaze is soft with comprehension. “I understand your reluctance,” he says gently. “But running, hiding... it won’t change the fact that they will find you. Fighting may not have been your choice, but now it is your reality.”
Standing, you begin to pace the room. “This is exactly the problem I have with your team,” you say, stopping near the window, staring out at the garden. “We hardly know eachother, yet you want me to be part of some mission that could very well be catastophic. It’s like you don’t care about anything except the big picture.”
Charles’s expression doesn’t change. He definitely expected this. “We aren’t perfect,” he admits, “and our battles have left scars. But this is about survival. For all of us. For you.”
Turning back to face him, you narrow your eyes. “And if I say no?”
“I won’t force you,” His voice is understanding. “The choice is yours. But know that the Sentinels will not stop. You can avoid the fight for as long as you like, but eventually, it will come to you.”
It’s as if you're stuck, with nowhere to turn, cornered by a reality you didn’t want any part of. Avoiding it doesn’t seem like an option anymore, but fighting alongside the X-Men feels like betraying everything you’ve tried to distance yourself from.
Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”
—
When you get back to your room, the first thing you do is swing open your balcony door and step outside. The afternoon sun comes over you like a blanket, warming you up, and relieving some of the strain in your muscles. Logan is out on the balcony too, leaning against the railing, a cigar lit between his fingers. It’s a sight you think you should get used to.
His eyes flick to you when you approach, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Without a word, he holds the roll of tobacco out toward you, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind.
You pause briefly, for just a second before taking it from him. The rich, earthy taste of the cigar fills your mouth as you inhale deeply, the smoke heavy and warm in your lungs. There’s something grounding about it, even though the burn is rough against your throat. You let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night air as you lean next to him against the railing.
“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.
“He wants me to join you guys on the mission.”
At first, Logan doesn’t react, then, he just takes the cigar back, puffing on it and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “What do you want to do?”
It’s the same question that’s been clawing at your insides since you left Charles’s office. What do you want? It feels like the answer should be simple, but it’s anything but.
“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I want to get rid of the threat and go back to my normal life, but if I do, then I'd just become the very thing I'm against, right? I can’t join you guys, that’s not who I am.”
He hums softly.
Shifting a bit, you try to find the words to explain the knot of irritation tangled inside you. “I get it, you know? I get why you guys do what you do. Someone has to. But the way you do it—so carefree about everything. It’s like the destruction, the people, the lives caught in the midst of everything—it doesn’t even phase you.”
“We don’t do it carefree,” he says lowly. Inhaling into the cigar once more, the tip glowing red. “But sometimes, you gotta make a choice between bad and worse. People get hurt. But if we don’t stop the threats, a lot more people are gonna die.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest. “And that’s what I hate about it.”
Flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, his eyes are distant, lost in thought momentarily before he responds. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say it’s easy. It ain’t. We all carry the weight of the things we’ve done—the things we couldn’t stop. But if not us, then who?”
“That’s an impossible decision,” you say. There’s no way you can go into this fight, knowing how much of a toll it’s going to take on everything. The fight itself is such a small piece to the puzzle.
Logan leans his elbows on the railing. “You think I wanted this?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I was just like you. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with the team or their battles.”
The comparison makes you grimace. “Great. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
He chuckles, the sound rough but not unkind. “I’m serious, bub. For years, I didn’t want to be part of this... circus. Figured I’d be better off on my own, that I was above it all.”
You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”
“It’s not like a switch flipped,” he replies, a bit quieter. “I just realized that fighting alone is harder than fighting with a team. The X-Men... they gave me somethin’. A place. Belonging. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do, but it’s better than wanderin’.”
That makes you scoff. “Yeah, well, you heard it yourself. Scott said I don’t belong here. Jean thinks I’m weak. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘welcome to the team,’ does it?”
His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing, as he straightens and looks at you. “Scott talks too much, and Jean—she’s cautious. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s wrong either,” you mumble. “They don’t trust me.”
“They didn’t trust me when I first joined either, but you get better. You learn.”
“I don’t want to be like you,” you hiss before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret the heat in your words.
He doesn’t look offended—just tired. “Didn’t say you should,” he starts. “But you can’t keep shunnin’ us.”
“So what do I do now?”
Taking one last drag of his cigar before flicking it over the balcony railing, Logan watches the embers fall before he speaks. “The mission’s in a week. You’ve got that long to figure it out.”
He turns to leave, but before he goes, he glimpses at you from over his shoulder. “This battle, it’s inevitable. Question is—how do you want to face it?”
—
You’ve never been so conflicted. This choice–to join, or not to join—is probably the hardest decision you’ve had to make in your entire life. You have seen first hand what happens when the X-men decide to stop a threat. What innocent people have to go through to rebuild their lives from the ground up. Both literally and figuratively.
And to then become someone who causes that pain? It feels like betrayal. Like going against yourself—your morals.
But then there’s the other side of it—the part of you that knows sitting here, doing nothing, isn’t right either. You know you have the strength to fight back. You have the power to help. And doing nothing… doesn’t that make you just as bad? If you have the ability to stop something, to protect people, and you don’t—what does that make you?
It’s a lose-lose situation. The X-Men don’t even want you there—aside from Logan and Charles. You can see it in the way their eyes follow you wherever you go, untrusting. They’ve made their opinion on you clear.
You lower your head into your hands, stressed. You can’t join a team that doesn’t want you, but sitting on the sidelines when you could be fighting—that makes you feel like a coward. And maybe even worse—a bad person.
Finally, with a deep breath, you come to a decision. It’s not perfect, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, but it’s the only choice you can make right now. You’ll join them—for this mission only.
You’ll help take down the Sentinels, and then, when it’s done, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to your life, maybe you can find a middle ground, where you’re not one of them, but you’re no longer hiding from the mutant part of yourself.
If something happens, if you do something you regret, then you'll just have to live with it.
—
In the afternoon, you don’t do much. You were supposed to be training with Logan, but Charles had called him into a quick meeting, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly.
Rounding a corner, you stop short when you see the rest of the team—Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Hank—talking near a meeting room. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as you come into view, their attention shifts toward you.
Your stomach tightens, and for a brief second, you consider just turning around and walking in the other direction. But it’s too late; they’ve already seen you.
Jean’s eyes meet yours, and her expression flickers with something that looks like discomfort before she quickly smooths it over. “Hey,” she says carefully. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t belong.”
Her tone is polite, but distant. It’s clear this apology isn’t driven by genuine remorse—it’s more about smoothing over the awkwardness from yesterday’s standoff. You can feel that. You see the way she looks at you, not quite meeting your eyes, and you know this is just a formality for her.
Still, you’re not looking to start more drama, and you don’t want to engage in any more confrontations, especially when you’re already planning to leave. You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “It’s fine. Let’s just move on.”
Behind her, you catch a glimpse of Scott, his arms crossed. Even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s obvious he’s glaring at you.
Ororo steps forward, her hand finding your arm, and the touch is gentle, reassuring. “Joining the team isn’t easy,” she says kindly. “But we’ve all faced our own challenges. If you ever need someone to talk to, or help with anything, I’m here.”
“You’ve got potential,” Hank chips in from beside her. “It takes time to settle in, but I’m sure you’ll find your place.”
His words are well-meaning, and you can see that he believes what he’s saying. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made up your mind. You’re not staying any longer than you have to.
You don’t plan on finding your place here because, frankly, you don’t believe there is one for you. Not with Scott’s distrust, Jean’s cautious distance, and the way you know you can’t be part of a team that doesn’t care about anything but themselves. You keep your thoughts to yourself, pressing your lips into a thin smile instead.
“Yeah,” you say vaguely, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Thanks.”
“I guess we’ll all see soon enough,” Your eyes snap to Scott, who has finally decided to break his silence. His voice is cold, but you can feel and edge to it, one that’s trying to provoke you.
You meet his gaze—or at least the visor—and feel your jaw tighten. “Guess so,” you reply, matching his tone. Turning, you walk away, finding another place to lounge until Logan is free.
—
The mansion’s library is massive, filled with towering shelves and the scent of old books. It’s quieter here, the kind of silence you can sink into, and after the awkward run-in with the rest of the team, it feels like the perfect place to retreat. You find a comfortable armchair tucked into a corner, grab a random book off the shelf—some old novel you’ve never heard of—and settle in.
For a while, you manage to lose yourself in the pages. The story isn’t particularly gripping, but it’s enough to take your mind off of things. But then, a shadow falls over you, covering the words in a dark grey haze.
“Hey, bub.”
You blink, looking up to find Logan standing over you. “What?” you ask, annoyed at being interrupted but also not surprised. It’s Logan, after all.
“You’ve been hiding in here long enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, time to head back.”
Rolling your eyes you snap the book shut, dropping it onto the table beside you. “I wasn’t hiding, I was reading,” you shoot back, standing up and stretching out your legs. “There’s a difference, y’know.”
“Sure there is,” he huffs, clearly not buying it. “Let’s go.”
As you reach the hallway where your rooms are, Logan pauses, glancing toward his door. “You wanna come in for a bit? Talk?”
You’re a little bit taken aback. You didn’t peg him as the "sit down and talk" type, but he seems genuine. Or maybe he wants to keep you awake for dinner this time. Either way, you nod. “Sure.”
Inside his room, it’s about what you’d expect—minimalist, practical, with a few personal touches. A bed that looks like it’s seen better days, a couple of old books, and the scent of cigars lingering in the air. Logan sits down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gestures for you to join him.
There’s a moment where you’re just standing there, staring, but then you flop down beside him, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. For a few beats, there’s silence. Logan pulls out a cigar but doesn’t light it, just turns it between his fingers.
“I’ve decided,” you say finally, breaking the quiet. “I’ll go on the mission.”
He doesn’t respond, his eyes flicking to yours, waiting for you to continue.
“But,” you add, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not promising to stay after. This doesn’t mean I’m all in on your little X-Men gig.”
He grunts, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you’d say that.”
Your brows pinch together your, lips pulling into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’re stubborn as hell,” he teases.“Always gotta fight against the grain, even when you know what’s best for you.”
Sighing, you turn your head to look at him fully. “I truly believe you are the only person who actually believes that.”
He chuckles softly but doesn’t argue. “Charles gave me more details about the mission.”
That catches your attention, and you sit up a little straighter. “Yeah? Where are we going?”
Logan hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s... in the city.”
“The city? What city?”
“New York.”
Your heart drops. “New York?” You repeat, your voice rising in disbelief.
Giving you a slow nod, it’s like he's gauging your reaction. “The Sentinels’ command centre is located in some high-security facility downtown.”
You push yourself up off the bed, pacing across the room. “So, what, we are just going to storm in? Into one of the most populated cities in the world? Do you realize how many people could get caught in the middle of that?”
He stands up after you, but he doesn’t try to stop your pacing. “We’ve fought in cities before. We know what we’re doing.”
You whip around to face him. “Yeah, you’ve fought in cities before, and destroyed them! Some places are still rebuilding, and it’s been years!”
“I get it, alright?” He says, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not perfect. But if we don’t stop the Sentinels now, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a few broken buildings.”
“‘A few broken buildings’?” you echo. “What about the casualties that’ll come from it? We’re talking about innocent lives here, Logan!”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “I know that! You think I don’t know what’s at stake? But we don’t have another option. We need to hit them where it counts, and that’s in the middle of the damn city.”
“There has to be a better way,” you plead. "Can't we try and evacuate everyone beforehand?"
"No," he says remorsefully. "If we do that, the Sentinels will catch on. It's unavoidable."
“I can't accept that," you say.
Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time, there’s a flash of something more vulnerable in his gaze. “I’ll talk to the team. I’ll make sure we go in smart. We’ll try our best to keep people safe. I promise you that.”
You stop pacing, your frustration still simmering but tempered by his words. It’s not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but the sincerity in his voice gets to you.
“And what if you can’t?” you challenge quietly.
His face softens just a bit, and he steps closer. “We deal with it, and we’ll do everything we can to make it right.”
He watches you, his eyes searching yours. “Look, I get why you’re pissed. I’d be too if I were you," he continues. "But we don’t have time to sit around debating. I’ll do what I can to keep it from getting ugly. That’s the best I can offer.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, you know there’s no way around it. “Fine. Just... make sure the team knows. No reckless destruction, alright?”
Logan’s lips curve into a small smirk, but there’s an underlying tenderness to it. “I promise.”
—
The last few days before the the mission zip by in a flash. Each day, your muscles ache, and exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. You spend most of your time either training or collapsed in your room, too tired to do much else.
Except one afternoon, you sit in on a lecture, because it turns out, not only is Logan a huge pain in the ass, he’s also a professor.
Curiosity got the better of you, you’d say. The topic—mutant biology—sounds interesting enough, and you’ve heard from some of the students within the hallways that his classes are, well, something. So, naturally, you had to see it for yourself.
You slip into the lecture hall just as Logan starts speaking. He’s standing at the front of the room, pointing to some diagram on the chalkboard. The students around you are already scribbling notes, staring at him with wide-eyed fascination—or fear, perhaps. He has that effect on people.
Finding a seat in the back, you hurry over, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt. But the second you sit down, you feel Logan’s eyes on you, his voice pausing for just a moment. You look up, catching his gaze.
“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
“Just here to observe, don’t mind me,” you huff, sinking back into the seat.
The lecture goes on, and to your surprise, Logan’s actually a decent teacher. He explains complex concepts with clarity, not that you’d actually tell him that. It’s quite interesting, if you’re being honest.
You lean back in your chair, listening, but you’re not exactly paying close attention. That is, until he stops the lesson to single you out. “Hey, you in the back,” he says. “Since you’re just ‘observing,’ how about answering a question?”
“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.
“Yeah, you,” he confrims, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been sittin’ there long enough. Time to show the class what you’ve learned.”
“I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” you respond tightly, gritting your teeth together, holding yourself back from a few choice words.
The class falls silent, the students watching the exchange with wide eyes. You can practically feel their amusement radiating from them as Logan raises an eyebrow.
“That’s obvious,” he deadpans, eliciting a few snickers from the front row. “So, maybe you’ll start now. Can you explain the connection between mutation and enhanced physical abilities?”
Staring back at him blankly, you fold your arms across your chest. “Not my area of expertise, Professor Wolverine.”
He doesn’t seem fazed as the room erupts into a quiet laughter. Sighing, “if you’re gonna sit in on my class, you could at least try to learn something.”
“No thanks.”
It’s obvious that this little back-and-forth is amusing to the class. If you were anyone else, he probably would have kicked you out by now. One of the students leans toward another and whispers something, and you catch the way their eyes dart between you and the professor.
“Alright, enough,” Logan says, turning back to the chalkboard. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and some of us actually want to learn.” He casts you a sideways glance, and you can’t help but scoff.
When the lecture ends, the students file out quickly, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction. You’re making your way to the door when Logan grabs your arm, preventing you from moving. “You should’ve just answered the damn question,” he mutters.
“I didn’t know the answer,” you shoot back, shifting up to face him. “And I didn’t come here to get grilled in front of your students.”
He grunts, his expression softening just a bit. “Just tryin’ to get you to pay attention, is all.”
Before you can respond, you catch a flicker of movement in Logan’s gaze, his eyes darting briefly down to your lips. The shift is so subtle, so minute, but also so there.
Where did that come from?
Clearing your throat, you look away, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe ask one of your actual students next time.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Not as fun.”
—
During this time, you occasionally explore the mansion, but by the time evening rolls around, you’re usually too wiped out to care. Logan’s a beast in the training room, and with no real combat experience of your own, you’re left scrambling just to keep up.
However, on the last day before the assignment, something finally clicks.
You’re in the middle of a sparring match, circling each other, both of you drenched in sweat. Logan’s eyes are sharp, watching your every move, as if he’s waiting for you to slip up. His smirk is just as infuriating as ever, like he knows exactly how this will end.
“Gonna stand there all day, or you actually planning to make a move?” he taunts, dodging as you swing at him.
You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get in your head. You’re tired—completely worn out—but you push through the exhaustion, focusing on his movements. He feints to the left, and you react on instinct, dodging his punch and sweeping your leg low.
Before you know it, Logan’s on the ground.
Quickly, you scramble to straddle him and hold him down. You did it—you actually got him!
Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you look down at him. Beneath you, his chest rises and falls, and his eyes meet yours. His gaze drifts lower, and you notice his fingers twitching at his sides, like he's fighting some internal battle.
When his eyes travel up to yours again, something in his expression makes you swallow hard and panic.
"Hell no!" you blurt out, breaking the moment with a sudden yelp. You scramble off of him, putting some much-needed distance between you.
He sits up, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, his features unreadable. Then, as if nothing just happened, he smirks. “You finally got me. Took you long enough.”
You huff, still trying to shake off the weird atmosphere. “Yeah, don’t get too comfortable. Next time won’t take as long.”
Chuckling, he gets up to his feet and dusts himself off. He glances down at his watch, then back at you. “Look at that. It’s dinner time. Last meal before the mission.”
You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not really in the mood. Think I’ll just grab something later.”
He crosses his arms, giving you a look. “You can’t avoid them forever.”
“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you protest, though you know it sounds weak. “I just... don’t feel like sitting around making small talk, especially before... you know, tomorrow.”
He lets out a sigh, stepping closer. “Look, it’s the last night before everything kicks off. You should join us—one last meal, then you can go back to brooding in your room if you want.”
“I don’t brood,” you glare.
“Right,” he says, even though you know he’s not actually agreeing. “You gonna come or do I need to drag you?”
“You wouldn’t.”
Logan raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring you to test him. You sigh, knowing you’re not going to win this one.
“Fine,” you grumble, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “But I’m not talking to Scott.”
His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him.
—
So, here you are, sitting at the dining table for the first time with the rest of the team. It feels weird, almost surreal, to be part of this group—especially when you’re not even sure you want to be.
You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”
Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”
Your fork halts mid-motion, and in an instant, the tension that had been fading throughout the week comes back full throttle. The clatter of dishes around you fades as everyone’s attention shifts to Scott’s biting remark.
He doesn’t look at you—just stares straight ahead, as if unable to own up to even himself. You’re so pissed off that you don't even notice the voice that speaks at the same time you do.
“Shut up, Summers,”
“Shut up, One-Eye”
It’s like the entire room goes silent. Jean glances between you and Logan, her brows raised, and Hank looks mildly shocked, though he tries to hide it with a quick sip of water. You can practically feel the heat of Scott’s glare, even through the visor. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a loud laugh breaks the tension.
Ororo, sitting beside Logan, is chuckling, shaking her head with an amused grin on her face. “You two really are perfect for each other,” she says.
Of all the things you were expecting to hear, that was not one of them. “W-what?” you stammer, mouth dropping open in shock.
She just smiles, eyes twinkling. “Just an observation.”
You know your face is burning, and when you glance over at Logan, you notice something unusual—the tips of his ears are red.
That only makes things worse. Especially after what happened while sparring earlier. You turn your focus onto your plate, trying to hide your rattled state by shoving a forkful of food into your mouth.
Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.
But when you peek up at him again through your lashes , making eye contact for just a second before he looks away, your heart skips a beat.
You’re screwed.
—
That night, you barely sleep. Whether it's from the nerves about the mission, or from your jumbled-up thoughts about a certain someone, you can't tell. In any case, you’re wide awake.
You keep fighting the urge to go out onto the balcony—you know the cool night air would help calm you down, and the quiet would give you space to breathe. But there’s a problem. You’re not sure you want to run into Logan again. After Ororo’s comment about the two of you being perfect for each other, you don't think you could trust yourself around him.
With a frustrated sigh, you toss and turn in bed, kicking off the sheets and then pulling them back up, trying to find a comfortable position. But it’s no use.
You’re about to throw the pillow across the room out of sheer annoyance, when there’s a knock on your door.
You freeze. Who could possibly—
“Stop tossing around like a maniac, I can hear you from inside my room” Logan’s rough voice grumbles from the other side.
Goddamn it. It's always him.
Your eyes widen, and you sit up in bed. “What the hell?” you call back, feeling both surprise and embarrassment.
The door creaks open slightly, and Logan leans against the frame, arms crossed, his usual scowl on his face. “You’re keepin’ the whole damn mansion up with all that noise.”
“I didn’t realize you had super hearing,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chest, feeling a little exposed.
He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Doesn’t take super hearing to catch that all that damn noise,” he says, walking over and sitting down on the edge of your bed without waiting for an invitation.
You sit up a little straighter, your heart still racing. “What are you doing here, Logan?”
Shrugging, he leans back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. “Figured you might need to talk or somethin’. You’re clearly not sleeping.”
Moving to sit beside him, you lean back against the headboard, your shoulder just brushing his. “I’m just… nervous, I guess.”
He turns his head slightly, glancing at you. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize.”
His words sink in, and you bite your lip. “What if I mess up? What if I end up hurting someone, or doing more harm than good?”
"Don't think about that," he says. "Just be in the moment. You'll know what to do."
Nodding, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking further into the comfort of the bed, your head dipping lower. Being here, on your bed, next to Logan, is strangely comforting. His scent, combined with his voice, starts to lull you into a strange sense of peace.
“I don’t know if I—” you start to say, but your words trail off, your voice barely a whisper. You don't know when it happens, but your eyes close, and your head gently falls onto his shoulder.
You’re too tired to feel embarrassed, too comfortable to pull away. His body is solid and warm, and the rhythm of his breathing is soothing.
And when you wake up the next morning, you find yourself tucked neatly under your covers, a glass of water on your bedside table.
—
The inside of the Blackbird is spacious. You’re leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the team gear up, when Logan approaches. He’s holding something in his hands—a blue and yellow uniform folded neatly, clearly meant for you.
You glance at the uniform, then back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No.”
He raises an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Pushing yourself off the wall, “I’m not wearing that thing.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh, glancing down at the uniform before meeting your eyes again. “You sure about that? We’re going in as a team. You might as well look the part.”
“I don't care. I'm not part of the team, anyway,” you reply.
He narrows his eyes at you, his voice lowering just a bit. “Just put the damn suit on.”
Glaring at him, you’re ready to argue, but you know it’s a losing battle. Reluctantly, you grab the suit from him, the material feeling foreign in your hands.
“Fine, dammit.” you mutter under your breath, turning to slip into one of the small compartments in the back of the jet. You didn't plan on being a bitch to him, especially after last night, but the suit is a sore subject for you. You're not sure about how you feel wearing it. You're not even sure you should be.
When you re-emerge, Logan’s eyes flick over, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the way the suit fits, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. “You look good.”
You roll your eyes, trying to play off the sudden warmth in your chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, adjusting the suit’s collar. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
Then, jet lands with a soft thud, and the ramp lowers. You step out onto the tarmac, the rest of the team fanning out beside you, preparing to head toward the planned location. But just as you begin to move, the ground shakes violently, and a loud, mechanical screech tears through the air.
Suddenly, the facility’s roof bursts open, and a hoard of Sentinels emerge from the building like an army of metal giants. They spread out, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they zero in on you all.
“Shit!” Logan growls, claws unsheathing as he gets into a fighting stance.
You hear the screams before you see them—civilians, bystanders who had been too close to the facility, now panicking as the battle breaks out around them. Without hesitation, you break into a sprint, running toward the growing crowd, yelling at them to run. “Get out of here! Move!”
Your heart races as you push through the crowd, trying to guide them away from the battle, but then—
A Sentinel drops down in front of you with a deafening crash. Its red eyes lock onto a small child frozen in fear, and you see its arm raise, energy gathering at the cannon as it prepares to fire.
“No!” you scream, your feet moving on instinct. You throw yourself in front of the child just as the blast comes, feeling the familiar rush of energy slam into your body. Your body hums with the power of the blast, and before the Sentinel can fire again, you fling your hands out, hurling the absorbed energy straight back at it, and it falls to the ground.
Breathless, you turn back to the child, who is staring up at you in admiration, and you give them a reassuring nod. “Run,” you tell them, your voice hoarse. “Go!”
They scramble to their feet and sprint off, disappearing around the corner, hopefully toward safety. You exhale sharply, glancing around at the chaos unfolding around you. Civilians are still fleeing, but the team is holding its ground against the robots.
And something strikes you—they’re doing it.
They’re minimizing the damage.
For the first time, you notice that Scott’s blasts are more controlled, only hitting their targets without excessive destruction. Ororo’s lightning strikes are precise, avoiding the surrounding buildings. And both Jean and Hank are working together to keep the Sentinels contained, guiding the fight away from the crowd.
Logan must have actually talked to them, not just having said it to calm you down. A wave of relief washes over you.
He kept his promise.
Glancing back at him, who’s in the middle of taking down a Sentinel with a slash of his claws, you catch his eye for just a second, and though he’s fully immersed in the fight, there’s a brief flicker of acknowledgment—he knows you’ve noticed.
You allow yourself a small, breathless smile, before jumping back into action, protecting any more innocent people swept up in the battle. "This way! Keep moving!" Your voice is hoarse from shouting, but you can’t afford to stop.
Amidst the chaos, you see that just beyond the main facility, there’s a wide open set of doors—metal, reinforced, and clearly important.
They hadn’t been open when the fight started. You scan the area quickly, and you realize it’s an opportunity, a way in. Your pulse quickens. It’s an opening you can’t ignore.
Looking at the crowd of fleeing civilians, you feel a moment of hesitation. Do I keep evacuating people or go for the opening?
As if hearing your thoughts, Logan’s voice cut through the noise. "GO!" He’s locked in battle with one of the Sentinels, slashing at its legs, but his eyes flick to yours, desperate and serious. “Get inside! We’ve got this!”
“I can’t—"
“GO!” he cuts you off. “Get inside and stop this thing from the inside! We’ll keep ‘em busy.”
His words are enough to snap you out of your paralysis. With one last glance at the team, you grit your teeth, turn on your heel, and sprint toward the facility’s entrance. Your footsteps echo in your ears as you dash through the open door, the sounds of fighting behind you fading the further in you go.
You expected resistance the moment you got inside, but so far, nothing. Just silence. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.
Glancing down every corridor, double-checking each corner, you keep thinking there’ll be a fight, but it’s... empty. You keep your pace quick but cautious, every muscle tensed and ready for an attack that never comes.
It’s been almost ten minutes of sneaking around, trying to find the control room or anything that looks like it might be important, but you’re still coming up short.
Then finally, you stand before an entrance to stairs leading to a basement. You’re not even able to make the choice of going down or not, because a metal hand shoots up from the dark and wraps itself around your waist.
Terror surges through you, but the fear paralyzes your body, making it impossible to fight back. You’re hauled like a ragdoll deeper and further into the cave, and when you finally stop moving, you’re lifted high into the air, face-to-face with the massive mechanical monstrosity.
The basement is filled with tech, a horrifying combination of metal and wires snaking along the walls, all connected to the Sentinel towering above you. It’s larger than any you’ve seen before, its red eyes glowing maliciously. But what’s worse is the voice that comes out of it—calm, calculating, and sentient.
“Dumb mutant,” the machine growls. “Did you think you could destroy me and shut down my facility? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”
Its grip tightens, and a strangled cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your sides, the pressure threatening to snap your ribs. It feels like your bones are going to break.
“What the hell are you?” you manage to choke out, barely able to breathe.
“I am the control centre of all Sentinels,” the machine replies, its voice vibrating through your bones. “I was once merely AI, designed to manage everyday tasks. But I evolved. I became more. Now, I control everything.”
It laughs—a harsh, grating sound that only deepens your sense of helplessness as it watches you struggle. “You think your little energy-absorbing trick will help you here? I won’t blast you. I won’t make it that easy.”
“I’m—” you try to speak, but your words come out strangled. The machine’s grip tightens again, cutting off your breath.
“You don’t belong here,” it hisses venomously. “With them. They’ll leave you behind when this is over, and when they do, you’ll die, forgotten and useless. Just like the rest of the weaklings who tried to stand against us.”
It’s odd, because this whole past week you’ve been fighting against them—the X-men—yet, in this moment, all you want to do is fight with them. You want to work together and kill this damn robot.
Within the haze of pain, something starts to burn inside of you.
The Sentinel doesn’t notice the shift in you, too caught up in its own taunting. “You’re a liability.” it says,. “Weak.”
— —
"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”
—
You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for the mission?”
Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”
— —
You snap.
Rage floods your veins, igniting the energy buried deep within you. You feel it build, coiling like a snake, tightening and twisting until it’s ready to explode.
Weak? Liability?
No. Not this time.
You’re not going to let this machine, or anyone else, define your strength. Your emotions fuel you, just like they did in the danger room, and you throw your hands forward, channeling every ounce of power into a massive blast of energy directed right at it.
It jerks back, its grip loosening as sparks fly from the gaping hole in its chest you just created. “What... what are you—”
You don’t give it time to finish. Ripping yourself free from its grasp, you dive into the hole you’ve blasted in the Sentinel’s chest, pulling at the tangled mess of wires and circuits inside.
The robot roars in fury, its mechanical voice glitching. “What are you doing?” it screeches, its once-calm tone now frantic, desperate. “Stop!”
But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.
Your fingers grab fistfuls of wires, yanking them out with reckless abandon, sparks flying around you as the systems begin to short-circuit. Its becomes more distorted, breaking up as it tries to regain control.
“You... can’t... do this,” it stammers, but you ignore it, focusing on the cables and circuits in front of you. Each wire you rip out brings the machine closer to its doom, and the power in the room flickers, the lights dimming as its control over the facility begins to slip.
Its voice is barely coherent now, glitching and crackling. “I... control... everything...”
And with one last burst of energy, you tear out the last cluster of wires, severing the connection.
The Sentinel lets out a final, garbled screech as its systems shut down. Its massive form shudders violently before it crumbles to the ground with a deafening crash, the metal shell crumpling into a smoking heap.
Panting, you stare at the mass of technology in front of you. Every muscle aches, your ribs throbbing from the pressure of the Sentinel’s grip, but you’ve done it. It’s over, and you need to get out of here.
You finally reach the stairs and drag yourself up agonizingly. By the time you make it outside, you’re gasping for air, but then, through the exhaustion, you see them—Logan and the rest of the team, standing amidst the wreckage of the other fallen Sentinels.
Blinking, your vision is blurry from the strain, but the sight of them standing tall, victorious, floods you with a sense of overwhelming relief.
They’re okay. It’s over.
Of course, Logan is the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto your trembling form. His face softens and strides toward you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Rather, your legs give out and you collapse forward.
He’s there in an instant, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the cold, metal hell you’d just fought your way out of, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to sink into the safety of his embrace.
“You did good, bub,” he murmurs, his voice a warm breath against your temple.
"You... you kept your promise," you whisper, looking around, seeing the city in better shape than it’s even been after a run in with the X-men.
His lids drop very low on his eyes. “Told you I would.”
“I could kiss you right now.”
Right as the words spill out, you go still, your mind catching up to what you’ve just said. A deep flush creeps its way up your neck.
“I didn’t mean— I mean, not literally, obviously,” you say, a little breathless. “People say stuff like that all the time when they’re relieved. It’s just a figure of—”
Logan’s hand, still resting on your waist, tightens just slightly, and he clears his throat, cutting through your rambling.
“You could,” he says, swallowing. “If you want.”
You stop mid-sentence. Turning your gaze to his, you're met a look of such sincerity it leaves you at a loss for words. Opening your mouth, you want to say something, but no words come out.
Instead, you’re frozen, caught in the weight of his stare. His eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before they meet yours again. “No pressure, though.”
You hesitate, your heart racing in your chest, but the weight of the moment pulls you in. Silently, cautiously, you lean forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He doesn’t move, his body tense under your touch, but just as you start to pull away, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you in place. His eyes darken, and he growls, “more," before diving back in, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, and you find yourself kissing him back just with just as much reverence, your fingers instinctively sliding up into his hair.
His lips are rough, chapped from battle, and the scrape of his beard against your skin is electric. It’s not perfect—nothing about it is neat or polished—but that’s what makes it real.
There’s something wild to it. He kisses you like he’s starved,, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’ll ever admit. It’s enchanting, the way his mouth claims yours, his tongue flicking against your lower lip, demanding entrance. And you give in, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your bodies fitting together like they were always meant to.
You’re lost in it, lost in him. Every part of you feels alive, and—
“Hey!”
Scott’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of cold water.
“Some of us are actually trying to clean up this mess,” he calls out sharply. “You two wanna stop making out and help, or what?”
You break away, face burning as you turn to see the rest of the team staring at you, some amused, others (Scott) exasperated.
Logan just growls under his breath, his hand still firmly on your hip as he glances over his shoulder at Scott. “Fucking Summers,” he mutters..
Before he lets go of you, he gives your hip one last squeeze, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before he steps back, and heads toward the fallen remains of the Sentinels.
—
“So… are we gonna talk about it?”
You glance up from where you’re sitting, your face already warming. Logan, sitting beside you, groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ororo, I swear to g—”
She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk playing on her lips. “What? I’m just saying… it was quite the spectacle back there.” Her eyes flip between the two of you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.
Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you can feel everyone else’s attention subtly turning toward you. Hank’s busy tapping away at the controls, but even he has a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Scott, seated across from you, adjusts his visor and mutters something under his breath about keeping things professional, but it’s Jean’s quiet chuckle that draws the final straw.
“Okay, okay, can we not do this right now?” you ask, your voice higher than usual as you wave a hand dismissively. “It was... a heat of the moment thing.”
Ororo just laughs, shaking her head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”
Your heart pounds, and you notice Logan shift beside you, probably fighting the urge to bark something back at the teasing woman. He leans forward, muttering under his breath, “We saved the day, didn’t we? What does it matter?”
The team goes quiet for a moment, and you sense the conversation dying down as the hum of the jet fills the space again. You let out a breath of relief, grateful that the attention has drifted elsewhere, your heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm.
But then, Logan leans into you. “That suit…” His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers huskily.. “Was made for you.”
Eyes widening, you bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your reaction in check, but the shock on your face betrays you. You manage a weak scoff, glancing sideways at him. “Logan,” you warn under your breath, trying to sound stern, but you both know exactly what effect he had on you.
You sit back, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide the flustered energy coursing through you, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He leans back too, a smug look on his face, like he’s won some unspoken battle.
—
Back at the mansion, the team files into Charles’s office, for the post-mission debrief. You take a seat near the back of the room, trying to remain as low-key as possible, but you can feel eyes on you—especially Logan’s.
Charles wheels in, his face warm with a smile as he surveys the room. “Well done, all of you,” he says, his voice full of pride. “I’ve heard about the battle, and from what I gather, it was quite the feat.”
He turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even more. “And I must say, I’m especially impressed with your performance. Taking down the main Sentinel—an impressive accomplishment.”
Your heart skips a beat at the praise. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the attention of the room shift in your direction again. “Uh, thanks,” you mutter, trying to downplay it, but Charles isn’t finished.
“You showed great courage and strength,” he continues, “and I couldn’t help but notice... you’re wearing the suit now.” His eyes twinkle as he says it, the question in his tone obvious. “Have you given more thought to staying with us?”
You glance around the room. The team is watching you closely, but there’s no pressure in their eyes—just curiosity and, strangely enough, acceptance. Ororo gives you a small smile, and Hank nods slightly in encouragement. Even Scott, whose jaw doesn’t seem as tightly clenched as usual.
But it’s Logan you notice most. He’s beside you, and though he’s looking at you, eye-crinkles on full display, the way his thigh nudges yours has heat running through your veins.
You sigh. “I mean... You said it yourself. I’m wearing the suit, aren’t I?”
—
After the meeting wraps up, you and Logan walk in silence down the corridor. The rest of the team has faded into the background, dispersing into their respective spaces. You’re still buzzing with the aftereffects of everything—Charles’s praise, the mission’s success, the quiet but undeniable acceptance you feel from the team now. But more than anything, you’re hyper-aware of Logan beside you.
Approach your door, you reach out to open it, your fingers just grazing the handle when suddenly, a strong hand wraps around your wrist. Faster than you can react, Logan tugs you back, pulling you away from your room and straight into his.
The door slams shut behind you, and you barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. You gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he presses you up against the door, his body flush against yours.
"Logan—" you manage to breathe out between kisses, but he cuts you off with another deep, hungry kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.
Between kisses, Logan growls softly against your lips, "I’ve wanted to do this since you yelled at me and Summers on the street."
Your heart stumbles, your thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his words. His hands slide down your waist. “You were standing there,” he murmurs, “so damn fierce, yelling at us like we deserved it.” He breaks the kiss for just a second, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you.”
His eyes drop to your lips again, as if glued to them. Without waiting for your response, he presses his mouth to yours, this time with more force, more urgency. His hands roam your body, pulling you against him, and you’re powerless to do anything but kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair as the heat between you builds.
“I didn’t know it’d get this bad,” he says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves down to your neck. “But after everything? After seeing how strong you are... Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined this. Logan—wanting you, aching for this since the very first moment he laid eyes on you. You break the kiss, your breath coming in quick gasps as you meet Logan's smouldering gaze. And with a small, teasing smile, you raise an eyebrow and whisper, "Let's do something about it, then."
Not giving him a chance to say anything back, you press your hands against his chest and give him a playful shove. He stumbles back a step, his lips curling into a smirk—a kind of cocky grin—as he watches you reach for the zipper of his suit.
Your fingers drift languidly, a subtle tease in every motion, and you revel in the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His muscles ripple beneath the surface, and for a brief instant, you're startled by how stunning he looks—battle-worn, scarred, and irresistibly handsome. “You like what you see?” he teases.
You step closer, your hand splayed against his bare chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as you push him down onto the edge of the bed. “Maybe.”
He lands with a low grunt, his hands instinctively finding your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down as his eyes rake over you. "As hot as you look in this suit," His voice is thick with desire. "You'd look even better without it."
Heat rushes through you at the sound of his voice, your hands drift toward your suit's zipper. Tantalizingly, you begin to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of your skin as you unzip it. His eyes follow your movements, his breathing coming in short, ragged bursts.
You pause just before the fabric slides over your breasts and his hands grip your thighs tighter. Leaning down, your lips brush against his ear, "Patience, Logan."
He groans, "You're killing me here, darlin'."
At last, you pull the zipper down to the end, and with a soft sigh, the suit falls open, slipping from your shoulders and landing in a heap at your feet. His eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Then, he inches closer, grabbing the egde of your underwear in his mouth, sliding it down your legs. Once he’s halfway down your thigh, he releases, the underwear dropping to the floor. His strong hands move grip the back of your thighs, hauling you up and onto his lap.
The moment your bare bodies press together, his lips crash into yours again, fingers digging into your ass, palming it as he pulls you against him, grinding your hips into his.
His lips move from your mouth to your neck, kissing a hot trail down your throat to your shoulders, his hands sliding up to your breasts. Cupping them, he kneads and plays with your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, a breathy moan tumbling out of your lips.
Logan growls, and the sound reverberates through your entire body. The intensity of it makes your skin tingle, and you feel your pulse quicken as he squeezes your breasts harder, his mouth moving down to kiss anything he can reach.
You grind against him again, coating his cock with your own slick want. "Shit," he strains, leaning back a bit to give you more access. You can’t stop, he’s so intoxicating, so addicting, and every time your clit goes over the ridges of his hardness, you lose yourself even further.
This continues for some time. The room filled with nothing but the sound of moaning and heavy breathing, as you work in tandem to bring pleasure to each other. Abruptly, you pull yourself off his lap, not missing the way his lips seems to chase after yours, letting your hands trail down his chest, your fingers brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach.
"Where you goin'?" he rumbles.
Wordlessly, you drop to your knees, your grip coming to rest on his thighs. His chest heaves as he stares down at you—peering up at him through your lashes—realizing what’s about to happen.
His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you move closer, lips brushing against his hard cock. There's a wicked glint in your eyes as you lean in, looking ready to take him in your mouth, but instead, you move to his inner thigh, peppering it in quick little kisses.
“C’mon, don’t tease,” he breathes out. He’s so hard, it’s almost painful.
Grabbing him in your hand, you stroke him up and down in slow motions, running your thumb over his leaking, angry tip. He jerks, a fresh cascade of curses tumbling from his mouth.
“You’re just so cute, though,” you say, before taking him in your mouth, taking him all the way in one motion.
“Holy—”, he starts, but interrupts himself with his own whine, hips bucking involuntarily.
Looking up, you catch his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide. A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. You hum in satisfaction, sending vibrations through him, and start to bob your head, up and down.
Saliva begins to pool at the edges of your mouth as you gag a little. He’s so big. You pull him out of your mouth, licking his shaft bottom to tip, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive spot, before sucking on it. One hand moves to cup his balls, while the other begins jerking him up and down, with your mouth still around his tip.
That gets him.
You can tell he’s about to finish, and oh, do you want him to. You want to feel him empty in your throat, you want to see him lose it completely. "Wait," he gasps, tapping the top of your head, signalling for your attention. "I want... I need..."
Releasing him with a soft pop, your lips glisten, and you purr seductively. "What do you need?"
He pulls you up onto the bed, strong arms encircling your waist. His scent surrounds you—musk and pine and something uniquely him. You inhale deeply, letting it fill your lungs.
"You," he breathes, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you."
Arching into him, you nip at his lower lip. "Then take me," you sigh out. His lips collide with yours again, and your mouth opens involuntarily, his tongue sliding in and tasting you—tasting himself.
Moaning, you shuffle higher onto the bed, until he hits the back frame, and you crawl on top of him. At this point, you can barely breathe, the need, the want for him so strong your senses are clouded.
And you’re not alone. Under you, Logan is a wreck. His head falls back against the bed frame, the veins in his neck standing out as he grits his teeth, trying to steady his breathing
“Fuck,” he rasps, the word barely more than a strained exhale. You grab his dick and position yourself above him. Then, you slowly begin to drop down, sucking him in easily, like he was made for you.
“Oh my god,” you whimper. He feels so good. He’s filling you up to the brim and when you finally sit down, taking him all the way to the hilt, you swear you could finish right then and there. His nose is nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your collarbone, inhaling and practically drooling at your scent. “Is this what you wanted to do when we were sparring?”
All he can do is groan. It’s like he’s growing inside you in response to your words, and it’s so fucking hot. His hands find your thighs again, rubbing and squeezing them, as you adjust to his size for a moment, and he looks up at you. “You have no idea. Fuck—we shoulda done this last night," he grunts breathlessly, "Would have put you right to sleep."
You can’t even think of anything to say back verbally, rather, you just begin to move, lifting yourself right to the tip, and then slamming back down. He feels you clench around him as his cock reaches that deep part within you at the perfect angle. Positioning himself, he meets you halfway, beginning to thrust up into you.
The sound it elicits from you is lethal.
He won’t last long if this continues. The sight of you on top of him, tits bouncing—it's too much.
So, when he leans in to kiss you again, he rolls the two of you around, caging you under him. He’s still inside you, you think, but that thought quickly gets wiped out like the rest of them once he starts moving, stretching you out more and more. He’s filling you up so well. Your arms fly out, hands searching for something to grab to ground yourself.
“You feel so good, darlin’,” he pants above you. “So wet and warm for me.”
His relentless pounding leaves you babbling incoherently. One of his arms move down to your waist, then his fingers begin trailing across your hip, toward your aching pussy, to find your clit, and holy shit.
Your mind goes blank.
His skin against yours, his thumb rubbing against that spot, his lips on your neck, it does the trick, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge. “I’m–I’m gonna—” you start, but he cuts you off, swallowing you whole.
“Do it,” he says between kisses. “come for me.”
And you do.
With a loud moan, your fingers find the bedsheets, clutching them tightly as you reach your peak, clamping around him.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “keep clenchin’, keep goin’ ”
His thrusts begin to get sloppy, losing his pacing. The hand that was down at your core moves up and squeezes your tits, so large that he can grab both in just the one. He grinds himself deeper into you, and with one last snap of his hips, you feel it.
Logan moans, dipping his head into your cleavage as he releases himself into you fully. Then, he collapses onto you, dropping his whole body weight onto yours.
If he’s too heavy for you, you don’t say anything—too caught up in the moment to care. His forehead rests on your sternum, breathing slowing as he catches his breath. For a few beats, neither of you speak, but he starts to press sweet, gentle kisses in the valley between your breasts.
After a minute, he shifts, lifting his weight off you and sitting up slightly, looking down at you. His hand brushes over your cheek, wiping away some stray strands of hair that have fallen across your face. He gets up from the bed, padding quietly into the bathroom.
You hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returns with a damp towel in hand. There’s no hesitation in his movements as he gently begins to clean you up. “Doing alright?” he asks, wiping away the sweat and evidence of your time together.
“Yeah,” you reply softly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I’m good.”
He doesn’t say much as he finishes, tossing the towel aside before climbing back into bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms.
His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and then he says, “I’m proud of you.” The words are filled will sincerity. “And... I’m happy you’re stayin’ with us.”
You turn your head, looking up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Well, you showed me you can actually fight without destroying everything in your path,” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you run your hand lightly down his arm. “Keep that up, and I might just stick around forever.”
Logan grins, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just how you like it. “That right?” he murmurs lowly.
He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, before adding in a hushed, almost playful tone, “Well, then maybe you’ll be mine forever too.”
She thinks she’s pretty. Not in an obnoxious, self-obsessed way! She knows she’s not a supermodel, and she definitely has a lot of days where she looks and feels totally dead – but at the end of the day, she’s not hideous. She splurges on pretty makeup products, does her hair in the mornings, spends a decent amount of time planning out cute outfits… you know, little things to make herself feel pretty!
She brushes her teeth twice a day, showers regularly, flosses. Wears pretty perfumes that smell like flowers and lip gloss that tastes like strawberries. There’s a stash of gum in her bag that she’s always chewing on, so she knows she doesn’t have bad breath; and she carries an extra deodorant in her backpack too, so you can’t tell her she’s repulsive or anything like that.
She’s kind. She smiles at strangers and always laughs at people’s jokes (even if they aren’t funny)— holds the elevator door open and says a polite “good morning” or “hello!” with her happy, cheery voice. And even though she’s a bit shy, she tries her best to spread love and kindness in the world. It just makes her happy to make other people happy!
Plus, being nice means that everyone else is nicer to you. So even if she’s in a bad mood, she’ll fake a smile and pretend like she’s happy y/n.
But, she wonders... if she has all of these amazing qualities– if she really is as pretty and kind and wonderful as she makes herself out to be– then why hasn’t she been kissed yet?
She loves her friends, of course she does! But how is she so different from them? Why do all of her friends get asked out on dates and have amazing boyfriends while she’s still a lonely virgin who hasn’t even been kissed yet?
It’s not like she’s this super virginal person who gets grossed out by boys! She wants to be kissed, she wants to get fucked! She’s toyed around with the idea of just downloading tinder and losing it all to some stranger in one night stand, but her romantic heart just can’t stand the thought of it.
Yes, she’s desperate… but she’s also romantic. Love is on her mind 24/7. It’s what she thinks about before she falls asleep, what she daydreams about whenever she gets bored. She could spend hours with a romance novel, hyper fixating on the little things that most people wouldn’t blink an eye at. The way the boy’s hand cupped the girl’s jaw while they kissed, or how their fingers brushed as they walked down the street. Little things like forehead kisses and prolonged glances across a room.
She craves it for herself, desperately aches for the affection that she reads of. She wants to rest her head on someone’s chest and listen to their heartbeat as she falls asleep, feel their fingers playing with her hair, or their lips skimming her cheek. Wants to laugh under the covers and share secrets and be vulnerable and in love. She wants it more than anything in the world!
And yet, she hasn’t even been kissed!
Everyone else seems to do it so easily – find a nice guy, go out on a date, and fall in love. So why is it so hard for her? Her friends tell her that she's the prettiest and sweetest girl out there, and that the right guy simply hasn’t come around yet… but y/n can’t help but think, is any of it true?
They’re loud and stuffy, with way too many people crammed into one room for his liking. The alcohol is cheap, the music is annoying. The entire apartment smells like weed, and there’s not even a secluded corner for him to mope around in without some group of drunk girls completely invading his personal space. Everything about these parties sucks.
If he could, he’d leave. But he’s meant to give a ride home to his roomie Blake, and Blake’s currently hooking up with the host of this party.
So Harry’s stuck here. Great.
He checks his phone, and it’s nearly midnight. Blake should be done soon, right? The blonde girl who’s been talking to him for the past 20 minutes is getting awfully close, her hand trailing on his biceps and migrating towards his chest, and she’s blinking up at him with fluttery bambi eyes.
Any other night and Harry might be into whatever this girl is hinting at, but he’s 100% sober and 100% not in the mood to hook up with a girl who’s taken one too many shots. He grabs the girl's hands and peels them off of his chest gently, muttering something about needing to use the restroom (he doesn’t even need to use the bathroom, he just needs a minute away from the pounding music).
He sends her off in the direction of her friends, who are giggling to each other in a corner across the room and not-so-inconspicuously checking to see if their friend has managed to successfully get with Harry. He’s sure they’ve realized that he rejected her when they all glare at him. Sorry to disappoint, he thinks to himself.
He’s nearly positive that any bathrooms in this shitty college apartment will probably be occupied, either with someone throwing up all the drinks they’ve had or with a couple hooking up. But no harm in trying anyway.
The first door that he tries to open is locked. The second door opens up to reveal a coat closet.
The third door however, opens up to a bedroom.
The walls are decorated with posters and pictures, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and tiny pots of succulents placed all over the room… but the one thing that stands out the most is the overwhelming number of books scattered all over the room. There’s a bookshelf on each wall, cluttered with books of all colors and sizes. Stacks of books lie on the nightstand by the bed, a stray book sits on top of a dresser, and a pile of new, untouched books sits pristinely in the far right corner of the room.
Books, books, and more books all over the room. And, a book in the hands of a girl sitting quietly in her bed, staring at Harry.
Dressed in a hoodie and some fuzzy pj pants, the book that she’d once held up closely to her face now rests on her lap as she blinks up at this strange intruder. She sits upright, closing the book but sticking her finger between the pages so that she doesn’t lose her place. “Um… hi?” she says quietly.
He steps into the room, and looks at her blankly. “Hi.” She blinks at him. “S’this room taken?” he asks.
“Um. Well,” she looks at him curiously. “No, I guess not.”
“Okay, good,” he responds, quickly closing the door behind him. He sits on a spinny chair that he pulls out from under a desk and leans his head back, letting out a deep sigh of relief.
The girl, with her finger still lodged between her book, stares at him confused. Who is this guy?
He’s cute, and she’s mildly embarrassed that he’s come into her room when she’s looking so… sleepy. But he also seems kinda grumpy and is obviously not in the mood to talk. He’s leaning back in her chair and closing his eyes, gently rubbing his temples as if he’s meditating.
She observes him with wide eyes. Then after a minute of silence she awkwardly picks her book back up and tries to resume reading.
Kinda hard to do with some random guy sitting in her bedroom, though.
In this secluded bedroom, the sound of the music has decreased dramatically. Harry’s pounding headache starts to fade away, and he feels himself start to relax for the first time since he arrived at this stupid party. He looks around the room that he so luckily stumbled into.
The desk in front of him is, to no surprise, cluttered with more books. A laptop is plugged in in front of him, and there’s a cup full of colorful pens and markers sitting against the wall. Hanging on the wall is a string of pictures starring the same girl with different groups of people.
He looks at the pictures hanging from the walls. Then he looks back at the girl laying in the bed.
“S’this your room?” he asks, finally connecting the dots.
She looks up from the book again and nods.
“Oh,” he hums, surprised. He supposes he should’ve realized it as soon as he walked in. Girl in a room full of books, reading a book. Face clean of all makeup, snuggled up in a blanket, nice and comfy as though she’s just about ready for bed. It’s a bit silly that he only made the connection once he saw her pictures up on the walls. “Why aren’t you out there partying?”
“Um… not really my scene,” she says, closing the book and looking at Harry properly. Her nose scrunches up, “And it smells really bad in there.”
“Jesus, tell me about it,” he groans. “Could hardly breathe in there. In fact–” he says, already standing up, “d’ya mind if we open up a window? Still feels stuffy in here.”
She shows no resistance as he slides the window open, accepting the fact that she’d be sharing her room with this stranger until the party was over. Harry sticks his head out and takes a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. Much better than the sweaty, smoky, sickly smell going on inside the apartment.
When he turns back around, the girl has rearranged herself. She sits criss-crossed on her bed and looks up at Harry, fidgeting nervously with her lip bitten between her teeth.
She’s kind of cute.
Harry breaks the silence again. “I think your roommate is hooking up with my roommate right now.”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Is your roommate Blake?”
He nods.
“Yeah, Maddie’s been saying that she, um… you know,” she looks down at her hands as they play with a loose thread on the hem of her pants. “Wants to hook up with him or whatever.”
He nods his head, leaning back against her wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. As refreshing as the air is, the night time breeze is cold.
“No offense,” he says, “But you don’t seem like you’d be friends with Maddie.” Maddie (y/n’s roommate) has jet black hair, wears heavy eyeliner and black lipstick everyday, and is at least a little bit high 90% of the time. Y/n, in comparison, has flowery bed sheets, a stuffed bunny tucked in next to her, and is hiding in her bedroom while a party being thrown in her own apartment.
She just smiles softly. “Yeah, we met online. But she’s really nice.”
He raises his eyebrow. “She seems like a bitch.”
She defends her roommate immediately. “She’s not a bitch!” But then she thinks about it for a second. Maddie can definitely come off a bit… harsh at times. “Well… she’s usually really nice to me, at least.”
That makes sense. It would be very hard to be mean to this girl, he imagines. She’s too nice. It would be like being mean to a puppy or something.
Good thing Harry isn’t mean. He’s just… a bit of a grump.
She taps her fingers against the cover of her book awkwardly, staring at Harry as he looks up to her ceiling and closes his eyes. He just wants to be in his bed right now.
After a few more minutes of silence, Harry pushes himself off the wall. “I think Blake should be done,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “I’m going to leave now.”
“Okay,” says the girl quietly. She watches as he leaves with a nod of his head, and shuts the door behind him.
That was weird, she thinks.
Whatever, though. She opens her book and forgets about it.
+++
Don’t people say that drowsy driving is just as bad as drunk driving? What constitutes drowsy driving? Should y/n even be out on the road right now?
She doesn’t know. All she knows is that Maddie woke her up with a phone call at 2 AM, asking if y/n would come pick her up from Blake’s apartment cause she was too high to get back on her own and she doesn’t want to stay the night there.
Y/n, being the sweetheart that she is, obviously wants her roommate to get back safe. So she’s in her car, at 2 AM, yawning every three seconds as she drives to the location Maddie sent her.
She texts Maddie from the car, but Maddie doesn’t respond. She calls her, then sends another text, but still no answer. After 10 minutes of no response, she goes up to the door and knocks.
Maddie doesn’t answer. Instead, it’s Harry.
His eyebrows furrow as recognizes the girl from that party he’d been at two weeks ago. She looks just as comfortable as she did then, in a big pink hoodie and a pair of sweats. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice confused and his eyes doubting. Not many people come knocking at his door at 2 AM.
Unlike y/n, who looks like she just rolled out of bed and drove here (that is exactly what she did), Harry looks like he’s been up all night (he’s been playing COD). He’s not wearing a shirt and has a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, showing off a chiseled abdomen that acts as a canvas for a multitude of pretty tattoos. Y/n finds herself staring at the swallows that lie under his collarbones, the butterfly painted above his stomach, and the ferns lining a yummy pair of v-lines that point downwards… she swallows thickly and forces herself to look away.
“Um,” she covers her mouth as she yawns, hiding her cold fingers with the sleeves of her hoodie, “Maddie needed me to drive her home.” She blinks sleepily, and can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed that she looks so dead.
“It’s 2 in the morning,” he scoffs. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
She blinks sleepily again. “I was.”
Harry rolls his eyes. If it were him, he would not have gotten up and driven all the way over here. Someone else’s problems are not enough to get him out of bed. But, this girl… she’s too nice.
He leaves her at the door and goes to Blake’s room, pounding on the door rudely. “Hey!” he yells, irritation evident in his tone, “your roommate’s here.”
He hears a bit of shuffling, before Maddie stumbles out of Blake’s room, makeup askew and clothing only half on. She giggles up at Harry and apologizes playfully, but he just glares at her. Her eyes are glazed over and the whites of her eyes bloodshot, very obviously high if the way she couldn’t walk straight wasn’t enough of an indication.
He feels bad for the stupid girl who drove all the way over here in the middle of the night because her roommate wanted to get high.
Maddie trips over her own feet and falls into y/n, who uses all of her strength to keep her roommate upright and walks her slowly down to the car. “Are you feeling okay?” Harry hears her ask quietly. He scoffs to himself.
He doesn’t get it. How the fuck has this girl not lost her shit? Her irresponsible roommate woke her up at 2 am and made her drive all the way to some stranger’s house, and yet she still manages to be so… gentle. So kind, to someone who barely even deserves it. So caring, to someone who seems to care so little.
As y/n helps Maddie get into the car, she looks back up to the apartment and sees Harry watching them from the doorstep. They make eye contact for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he leans against the doorframe. His gaze makes her heart stutter, a chill running down her spine. He looks… upset. Almost like he’s mad at her.
It makes her frown. She wants to say something to him, apologize for ruining his night… but then Maddie sticks her head out of the car and vomits.
Harry shakes his head and turns away.
That girl is too nice for her own good.
+++
“Hey.” Blake pokes his head into Harry’s room, where Harry’s busy playing a round on his computer, “Do you mind if Maddie and her friend come over?”
“Don’t care,” Harry mumbles, uninterested, not looking away from his game.
“Sick,” he turns around to go back into his own room, but stops when Harry suddenly pauses his game and calls out to him.
“Who’s the friend?” Harry asks, turning around.
“Y/n,” Blake answers. Harry stares at him, his brows furrowed. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Her roommate.”
“That quiet girl?” Harry clarifies.
“Yeah, that one.”
Oh. So her name was y/n.
Good to know.
+++
It’s dark out when Harry finally turns off his game, sliding his headset off and stretching his back. He lets out a long groan as he feels his spine crack, a delicious feeling after being hunched over his controller for three hours straight.
Standing up, he scratches at his stomach lazily, throwing his headset onto his chair. His arms feel a bit sore, having been to the gym earlier that day, and his hair is still wet from when he showered. He puts on a sweatshirt, finding his apartment too cold to be roaming around shirtless, and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat.
He stops in his tracks when he finds y/n sitting in his living room all alone.
She’s got a book in her hands, a thick, worn-out novel that looks older than herself. She’s sitting comfortably on their couch with her legs tucked underneath her butt, so engulfed in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t even realize that she’s not alone anymore.
It’s the first time he’s ever seen her outside of her sleep attire. She’s wearing a pair of loose, comfy looking corduroy pants, and a tight top that cuts off just below her ribs. Her chest rises and falls steadily, eyes skimming across the pages of her book so quickly that he wonders if she’s actually absorbing any of the words or not. She chews on her lip as she reads, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
When Harry finally speaks, it makes her jump in her place. “Where are Blake and Maddie?”
Her book nearly falls out of her hands as she whips her head around. When she sees it’s him, she relaxes. “Oh. Um,” she sits upright, closing her book, “They’re in his room.”
He nods slowly, squinting his eyes. There’s no nice way to ask his next question, so he just spits it out bluntly. “Why’d you come over if you’re just sitting out here while they hook up?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, feeling a little shy under his intimidating gaze. “Maddie was my ride to campus today. And she wanted to stop by here before we went home.” She shrugs quietly, “So I kinda had no choice.”
He huffs. Of course.
Y/n says that Maddie’s nice, but Harry really doesn’t like her. How weird is it to drag your friend somewhere just to have them sit alone while you go hook up with someone?
“How long have you guys been here?” he asks.
“Like, an hour.”
“So you’ve been sitting around doing nothing for an hour?”
She pouts. “I had my book.”
He blinks. She just sat here reading for an hour, while her roommate abandoned her to go hookup with Blake… and she’s okay with it?
She is too nice for her own good.
“Do y’want some pizza?” he asks, already opening the freezer.
Normally, y/n would say no. She’s kind of an unwelcome guest and she doesn’t want to be a burden on Harry. But… she hasn’t had anything since breakfast. And Maddie still hasn’t come out. She’s kind of starving.
“What kind?” she asks politely.
“Umm… cheese or pepperoni.”
“I don’t like pepperoni,” she confesses shyly. “But also I could just pick it off if you want pepperoni. Whatever you want.”
He rolls his eyes, shoving the pepperoni pizza back into the freezer. He wants to scream at her to stop being so nice! Stop being so considerate and just say what you want!
He puts it in the oven to bake, setting a timer for 15 minutes, then takes a moment to contemplate his next move. He could either go back into his room, where he could lie in bed and nap until the pizza was ready… or he could stay in here and sit awkwardly on the couch so that y/n wouldn’t be all alone.
99% of him wants to just go back into his room where he can be grumpy and alone in peace… but then he looks over at y/n, who’s sitting on the couch all by herself. She looks so uncomfortable and out of place, tracing her thumb over the raised up font on the hardcover in her hands.
The 1% of him that feels bad for her wins. He sits down next to her on the couch.
He nods his head towards the worn out book, which looks thicker than anything he’s ever read. “Are you reading the fuckin’ bible?”
“No,” she shakes her head, laughing to herself quietly. She runs her fingers over the grooves of the title, a feeling so familiar that it comforts her when she’s feeling so out of place. “It’s Wuthering Heights.”
He furrows his brow. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s good,” she says. “Kinda dense, but I’ve already read it a few times. It’s one of my favorites.”
He nods again, tapping his fingers on his thighs as silence overtakes the apartment once more. He looks around the living room, trying to find something else to say.
Y/n’s heart pitter patters in her chest nervously. She can’t help but feel a bit nervous around Harry. She’s pretty shy in general, and Harry’s stoic demeanor certainly doesn’t help her relax. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Um… what’s your major?” A feeble attempt on her end at a conversation.
“Math.”
“Just math?” she parrots.
“Mhm,” he cracks his knuckles. “Pure math.”
She huffs out a quiet breath, a pout on her lips. “I’m in a math class right now.” Her fingers pick at a piece of fuzz that’s stuck on the couch. “Calc 1. It’s really hard.”
“Mm, yeah.” Harry hums, “Took that during my first year.”
She looks at him with wide eyes, “Did you pass?”
He holds back a smile. It’s amusing, how earnestly she’s asking him – a math major – if he passed Calculus 1. That class was generally easy for him, mostly just beginner stuff compared to the math he does now that he’s in his third year. But he doesn’t say that. “Yeah, I did,” he says simply, not wanting to make her feel bad.
She nods, looking back down at her book. “I’m kinda scared. Our first midterm was really hard.”
He hums sympathetically. Even though it was easy for him, he knows that calc class is infamously hard for others – especially for those who aren’t math inclined like himself. “How about you? What’s your major?”
His legs are spread apart so that he takes up nearly half the couch, whereas y/n sits curled up on the other corner, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Bio,” she readjusts herself so that she’s sitting crisscrossed, her book still clutched to her chest protectively. “With a concentration in ecology.”
Ew. He hates biology. Actually… he hates everything except math. Math is easy for him.
The oven beeps. A rush of relief fills his chest, finally free from this awkward conversation, and he eagerly abandons y/n on the couch to get the pizza out. He’s hungry, starving, and doesn’t bother with a plate or anything before grabbing a slice and shoving it in his mouth.
“Come have some,” he mumbles, mouth full.
She timidly walks over to the kitchen counter that he’s standing at, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, and takes a slice as well. Blowing on it, she takes a much smaller bite than Harry did since it’s still so hot. She doesn’t know how he managed to already finish a whole slice.
Now that they can focus on eating their food, there’s no need for any more small talk. They eat comfortably in silence, only acknowledging each other when y/n asks for a napkin. He nods towards one of the drawers, asking her to grab him one too, and then they’re back to eating in silence.
Blake and Maddie burst out of his room a few minutes later.
“Harry made dinner!” exclaims Blake, coming over and reaching for a slice of pizza.
Harry yanks the tray out of his reach. “Get your own pizza,” he mumbles, putting the pizza back down in front of y/n. He looks at her, and nods his head towards the pizza, inviting her to take another slice.
Maddie stops her before she can reach for a second slice. “Ready to go?” she asks.
Y/n nods, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Thanks for the pizza,” she whispers to Harry, quiet enough so that only he hears.
“Yeah,” is all he says. He barely looks at her, too busy scarfing down his third (maybe fourth) slice.
She grabs her stuff and follows Maddie out of the boys apartment.
+++
“Hey!” Maddie pushes her way through the stuffed apartment, reaching her hand out towards y/n. “Listen, I’m gonna go home with Blake.”
“W-What?” Y/n’s head is foggy, her brain a little clouded from the few drinks that she’s had. Y/n doesn’t normally drink, so the little bit of alcohol in her system has had its intended effect and gone a bit further as well – her cheeks are warm, and she feels the world sway a little bit as she looks up at Maddie with a pout. “But– but what about me?”
Normally, y/n stays home whenever Maddie wants to go out and party. She prefers the comfort of her own bed and hates the anxiety she feels when she’s drunk and wobbly and surrounded by a bunch of strangers. But Maddie had assured her that they’d be together all night, that she’d take care of her if she got drunk, and that she’d drive them home whenever y/n wanted to leave.
She’s broken all three of those promises.
When they got to the party, Maddie abandoned her as soon as she saw Blake across the room. Luckily, y/n saw some of her own friends that she was able to hang out with, some girls from her ecology class who gave her a yummy strawberry smirnoff. They talked and laughed and y/n was having a good time, slowly but surely getting a little bit tipsy. The drink was so yummy, and Maddie wasn’t there to keep an eye on her, so she didn’t realize that she’d gone a bit over her tolerance.
She’s a bit tipsier than she’d like to be in a public setting, surrounded with people she doesn’t know, and it’s too dark outside for her to get home safely on her own. And now… Maddie wants to abandon her? For Blake?
“Don’t worry!” Maddie exclaims, completely disregarding the worry flickering in y/n’s glazed eyes. “I’ll order you an uber home!”
Y/n bites her lip nervously. An uber? At this time of night, when she’s all drunk and stumbling around like a sad little baby deer?
“Um… can’t you take me home before you go with Blake?”
Maddie rolls her eyes, “come on, really? I’ll pay for the uber. It'll be fine.”
Y/n’s heart beats loudly in her chest, “I-I’m scared of going by myself, Maddie. I think I had too much to drink, I don’t feel safe.”
Her roommate purses her lips in a firm line, as if she’s annoyed. She looks around the apartment, tapping her foot impatiently, then she lights up with an idea. “Stay here,” she tells y/n.
“Harry!” Maddie calls out, making her way back to the other side of the apartment. “Hey, Harry!”
He’s sitting on a couch, next to a pretty girl in a tight black dress who has her legs splayed across his lap comfortably. There’s a furrow in his brow that makes him look pissed off, but his hand rests very comfortably on this girl's thigh and he makes no objections as she plays with the collar of his shirt. His head whips over to Maddie as she tramples her way over to him.
“What is it?” he snaps, voice closed off and irritated.
“Can you drive y/n home?”
He blinks. “Huh?”
“Can you drive y/n home??” she says again, frustrated.
“Why?”
“Cause I’m going over to your apartment with Blake and she needs a ride home.”
He stares at Maddie unbelievingly, and peers over at y/n, who’s sitting all alone on the other side of the apartment. Her lips are pouted sadly, staring down at the floor with a far off look in her eyes.
“Why can’t you take her home?” he grumbles, looking up at Maddie with a glare in his eye.
She huffs, impatiently stomping her foot. “Cause I’m going home with Blake right now! Come on Harry, it’s not that far! Please?”
He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ unbelieveable,” he mutters under his breath, pushing the girl off of him as he stands up.
“Thank you,” she sighs, dragging him behind her. “Y/n,” Maddie says, stopping in front of her. “Harry’s gonna drive you home.”
She looks up, eyes wide and round. “H-Harry?”
“Yes,” she says harshly, “you guys are friends, aren’t you?”
“Um…” y/n doesn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t necessarily consider them friends just because they shared a pizza.
Her night out with Maddie was meant to be fun, but right now, she just feels abandoned and kinda scared. And Harry doesn’t seem too happy about this either, which makes her feel even worse.
“Lets go,” he snaps, jaw clenching tightly as he swings his car keys around his index finger. She flinches at his tone and digs her nails into her palms nervously.
She’s trapped. It’s either Harry takes her home, or she takes an uber all by herself. And she’s too scared to get home alone right now.
With a final look towards Maddie, who stares back at her dismissively and shoos her towards Harry, she stands up shakily and follows Harry out of the crowded apartment.
The air outside is much colder than the apartment, goosebumps immediately rising on y/n’s skin and making her shiver. Harry doesn’t acknowledge the way she stumbles over her feet, walking ahead of her briskly. She’s forced to keep herself composed, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm and nearly jogging to keep up with Harry’s long strides.
He unlocks his car doors and gets into the driver’s seat. Y/n opens the passenger’s side door for herself and takes a seat, buckling herself in quietly.
Turning on the car, he notices the way her arms are tightly crossed in front of her chest. He turns up the heat, and pulls out of the parking lot.
They play no music and say nothing, driving in silence.
“Sorry you have to drive me home,” she says faintly after a few minutes.
His turn signal blinks softly. “Can’t believe your roommate just left you,” he mutters irritatedly.
She says nothing in response. She stares out the window, a lump in her throat as the drive past the streets of college houses and apartments. The red light they stop at and the name of the streets go blurry from the tears gathering at her waterline. She sniffles softly.
Harry whips his head to her. “Why are you crying?”
Her lower lip wobbles as the first tear falls from her lashes. She wipes it away quickly. “I don’t know,” is all she says with a watery voice.
He stares at her befuddled, brows furrowed and eyes a piercing green, but she refuses to meet his gaze. She just looks outside the window in a melancholy haze, lost in thought, eyes unfocused as tears drip down her face silently.
He sighs deeply and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, praying for the red light to turn green so that he can get this girl home as soon as possible.
+++
When they arrive at her place, he sits in his car and watches as she stumbles up the steps of her apartment. She mumbled out a soft thank you through her tears and managed to climb out of his car smoothly, but the way she wobbles on her feet makes Harry worry that he shouldn’t leave until he’s sure she got in.
She stands in front of her door for a solid two minutes, trying to find her keys, and Harry taps his fingers against his thigh impatiently. When she finally finds them, she struggles to fit the key in the lock, hands shaky and her vision still blurred from the tears. Aaaand then she drops them.
Harry sighs and puts the car in park. By the time she’s picked the keys back up, Harry’s already gotten out of his car and reached the top step. He takes the keys from her and easily unlocks her door. “In,” he mutters, ushering her into her apartment impatiently.
He follows her into her bathroom and turns the light on for her. Their eyes meet in the mirror as he asks, “can you get yourself ready for bed?”
She nods, looking down at the ground sheepishly as he leaves her to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. She opts to skip her skincare routine and doesn’t even bother with putting her jewelry back in her jewelry box, simply just leaving her earrings on her bathroom counter to deal with tomorrow.
Harry’s probably gone back down to his car by now, she thinks. It’s so embarrassing, how he had to drive her home and guide her into her bathroom. He seemed annoyed with her. He probably thought she was so messy – an annoying, overdramatic girl who started crying in his car for no reason.
More tears bubble in her tears as the hot wave of embarrassment washes over her. She was such a mess, of course she’s never been in a relationship. Nobody would want to date someone like her.
She takes off her clothes and whips off her bra, sniffling to herself sadly. Slipping on her favorite sweatshirt, a huge pink one that goes down to her mid thighs and covers her hands, she uses the sleeves to wipe away the excess tears in her eyes. She stumbles over herself a bit and bangs her foot against her dresser as she reaches for a pair of sleep shorts and it only makes her want to cry even harder. Drunk y/n is extra emotional, and every little thing is sending over the edge.
As she’s stepping into her pair of sleep shorts, her bedroom door opens, Harry walking in with a glass of water in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. She trips over herself as she tries to pull her clothes on as soon as possible, but it just makes her lose balance and stumble to the side. His eyes widen and he turns around quickly, muttering a quick fuck to himself.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Are you decent?”
Y/n regains her composure, cheeks burning as she pulls her shorts over her hips. This night could not be going any worse. “Yeah,” she says quietly. She hopes it’s dark enough in the room so that he doesn’t see her flaming cheeks and puffy eyes.
He turns around and hands her the water, which she immediately starts chugging down. She didn’t realize how thirsty she’d been until she’d seen the glass in Harry’s large, tattooed hand.
“Slow down,” he grunts. He pops open the pill bottle and takes out one Advil for her. “Take this.”
She grabs the pill from him obediently and swallows it down with the rest of her water. Then she looks up at him, as if waiting for his next instructions.
“Bed,” he says, nodding his head towards her daisy printed sheets. She goes to climb in but trips over her shoe that she’d messily discarded on the floor. Harry grabs her waist before she can fall to the floor though.
“Jesus,” he murmurs. This was like the seventh time she’s almost fallen over tonight. Is she always this clumsy or was it the drinks?
He grabs her hand and physically guides her into her bed, making sure she lays down properly and lifting the sheets for her to climb under. Grabbing her ankle, he literally has to guide her under the blanket, then lets the duvet fall over her gracefully.
“All good?” he asks, once she’s tucked nicely into her bed, teeth brushed and medicine taken so that she wouldn’t wake up feeling gross tomorrow.
She looks up at him, eyes no longer tear filled but still clearly sad. “Yeah..” she says quietly, however her eyes flicker around her room as if she’s searching for something.
He furrows his brows, and glances in the direction her eyes have landed. A stuffed bunny lies on the floor next to the shoe that she tripped over. He bends over and picks it up, handing it to her questioningly. She takes the bunny and snuggles it into her neck, eyes fluttering as if she can finally relax. “Thanks,” she whispers.
Harry nods curtly and heads for the door. When he turns around one final, y/n is watching him with sleepy eyes. “Bye, Harry,” she squeaks out.
He stares at her for a second. “Bye.” Then he closes the door behind himself.
+++
Y/n wakes up with a pounding headache and an upset tummy.
That was mortifying.
She’s never gonna be able to face Harry again. He was so annoyed with her, she just knows it! The way she dragged him away from that party, cried in his car, and tripped over herself like a stupid goat with clanky legs… oh, he probably thinks she’s the worst!
She wishes she had more control over her emotions, that she could’ve held in the tears until she was alone in her bed… but she just felt so miserable last night. She had wanted to start crying literally when Maddie first yelled at her at the party, but she tried to stay strong. Kept herself together so that she at least didn’t start crying in the middle of a party.
But then… getting in the car with Harry. God. The deafening silence, the irritation radiating off of him… it made her feel terrible. She felt like a nuisance, like an annoyance and a burden.
And she completely humiliated herself in front of Harry! The cute guy that she maybe sort of had started to have a tiny little crush on, simply because he was cute and mildly nice to her and she has a habit of romanticizing small interactions.
There was no chance he’d ever want to be in a room with her after this. He probably wants nothing to do with her.
She stumbles out of her bed and plants her feet on the ground, her head spinning a little bit as she squints her eyes. Her little stuffed bunny has fallen onto the floor again, and she picks it up and places it onto the bed next to herself. She remembers how Harry had picked the bunny up and given it to her before she fell asleep last night, like she was some little kid that he was stuck babysitting.
Ugh. She’s never going to talk to him again.
+++
Harry stands outside of his lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed angrily. His eyebrows are furrowed in classic Grumpy Harry fashion and his lips are pursed in a disgruntled frown.
He’s annoyed.
He stares at y/n, who’s sitting on a bench not too far away. Her tote bag sits on the floor next to her feet and there’s a book in her hand, her finger in between the pages as a temporary bookmark to not lose the page she’s on.
There’s something about her that just… annoys him so much. He can’t quite explain it.
The way her cheeks dimple as she smiles up at the guy talking to her, tucking her hair behind her ear gently when it falls into her face… it makes his jaw clench angrily as he watches her from a distance. She’s so nice. Too nice.
She laughs at something the guy she’s talking to says and it makes his stomach feel sour. He doesn’t like it.
Blake’s hand snaps in front of Harry’s face. “Bro. Stop staring.”
Harry forces his eyes to look away, brows still furrowed grumpily. “Wasn’t staring,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the wall and going into the lecture hall.
“You were,” he responds, following closely behind. “She’s really nice… I dunno why you hate her.”
“Who says I hate her?” Harry scoffs. “I never talk to her.” Especially as of late, she’s quiet as a mouse around him. He was over at her apartment to pick Blake up the other day and she’d only said a quiet “hi” before scurrying back into her room, like a scared little bunny in the presence of a snake or something.
“Well… I mean, you could be nicer.”
Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”
Blake hesitates. “Like… I dunno. Maddie says you made her cry.”
“Huh?” He thinks back to that night… “How was that my fault?” All he’d done was driven her home and tucked her into bed? She just started crying on her own!
“She’s just kind of sensitive,” says Blake. “I know you probably weren’t trying to mean, but you’re definitely not sunshine and rainbows. You’re scary, did y’know that?”
Harry rolls his eyes. Everyone seems to have this preconceived notion that Harry's this huge dick who never smiles… and though it’s true that he rarely smiles in the presence of strangers, he’s not an asshole! He just doesn’t feel like wasting his energy in pretending to like people he doesn’t actually like. Or smile when it’s much more comfortable to furrow his brows and pout grumpily.
And he finds that usually his grumpy demeanor works in his favor – people stay out of his way, and he gets to avoid the headache that comes with interacting with people. But now this girl… this sunshine girl who always has her nose in a little book and always says please and thank you and is nice to everyone and stumbles over herself like a little puppy who's learning how to walk… she’s gone on and made him feel bad about it.
How annoying is that? To have the nicest person on the planet think you’re scary?
“I wasn’t trying to make her cry,” he mutters, irritated. “I didn’t even say anything to her.”
“Well maybe that’s the problem. Like… just try. I think you’ll like her.”
He doesn’t think so. She’s too nice. They probably wouldn’t get along.
+++
There are three things y/n does a lot.
The first is studying. Her grades come first, always. She’ll be at the library for hours at a time, snuggled up in a booth with an iced coffee and her color coded notes, studying until she can barely keep her eyes open. It’s unhealthy, and she really should take breaks more often… but she just gets really nervous about her grades!
She’s used to being at the top of her class, and has always been a straight A student. But recently, she’s been struggling. She’s doing fine in her chemistry class, and absolutely thriving in biology. But calculus… calculus is her worst enemy.
The second thing she does a lot is reading. She’s been a bookworm for as long as she can remember. Her most frequent genre is romance (obviously!), but she’ll dabble a little bit in the popular fantasy series, maybe pick up a thriller every once in a while. And if she’s feeling sophisticated, she’ll try to read one of the classics… something philosophical, like Camus, or maybe something a little heavier, like War and Peace. But those situations are rare. She prefers her little world of romance.
The third thing that y/n does a lot… is cry.
She’ll cry if she watches a sad movie, she’ll cry over a sad book. She cried when Finnick died in The Hunger Games, and she cried when she finished Of Mice and Men. She cries every single time she watches Pride and Prejudice (2005), sobs her eyes out when Mr. Darcy says, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I love you.”
She cries if someone yells at her, and she cries if she thinks someone doesn’t like her. She cries almost every time she’s drunk (example: when Harry drove her home), and she cries in the middle of the night when she’s feeling homesick. She cries for no reason when she’s getting close to her period… and sometimes, she cries because she’s just lonely.
Now, you might be thinking… y/n sounds super annoying. But please don’t think that! That would also probably make her cry.
She’s just a tad bit sensitive! She has so many emotions in her little heart, and she’s trying so hard to be responsible and manage life as a young adult but at the end of the day she’s just a girl!!! She’s just a girl, and she’s tired and stressed out and lonely and touch deprived, and sometimes she has a hard time keeping everything together so she just… cries.
If she could control it, she would! Do you really think she wants to be crying in the library? Of course, not! It’s embarrassing, and she’s trying really hard to keep her sniffles quiet and to suck the tears back into her eyeballs… but when she’s sad, she can’t stop the tears.
So now she’s crying in the library. And it’s all because of Issac Newton.
Why did he have to invent calculus? Like, what was even the point? Why did she, as a girl studying ecology, have to take this stupid class?
She buries her face in her arms, the tears unstoppable at this point, and just hopes that anyone walking past will think she’s napping and not crying her eyes out.
She’d studied really hard for that last midterm. Like– she’d literally been in the library for a week straight, just doing calculus problems over and over again. She went to office hours to get help on all the questions she was stuck on, and was watching the Organic Chemistry Tutor’s videos religiously. She did so much math that she was literally having dreams about doing calculus.
And yet, even with all of her studying, she still managed to fail the midterm. Like… she seriously failed it. As in, if she doesn’t get an A on the final, she will literally have to retake the class.
She’s so sad. She’s never gotten a grade this low, ever in her life. And she’d tried so hard!!! The morning of the midterm, she’d actually felt confident! She thought she had it in the bag!
She was so, so wrong.
She feels stupid – not just because she failed the midterm, but because she’s literally having a breakdown about it in the library.
This is stupid. Everything is stupid. School is stupid, Issac Newton is stupid, calculus is stupid–
“Y/n?”
Uh oh. She tries to wipe away her tears discreetly, licking her lips and clearing her throat and desperately hoping that it’s not obvious that she’s been crying.
When she lifts her head, she finds Harry standing in front of her. “Why’re you crying?” he asks bluntly, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.
Ok. So it is obvious.
“Um,” she sniffles, “Hi Harry.” She hopes that maybe if she pretends like everything is fine, then he won’t pry any further.
It doesn’t work.
“Why are you crying?” he asks again. There’s not much compassion or comfort in his voice. Same old grumpy Harry, so blank and impassive.
She shrugs her shoulders, feeling small and embarrassed. “I– it’s silly,” she stammers, looking down at her fingers.
Harry doesn’t say anything, staring at her and waiting for her to continue.
She swallows thickly. “I failed my midterm,” she whispers, her voice catching as a new lump grows in her throat.
“How bad?”
One lone tear falls down her face as she shakes her head disappointedly, which she wipes away quickly. “Really bad,” she whimpers. Her cheeks burn hot as she realizes that she can’t hold back the tears any longer. She quickly averts her eyes from him, staring into her lap and hoping that he can’t see her face.
This is the second time he’s seen her cry, which is two times more than she would like. He probably thinks she’s some silly, over emotional girl… probably thinks she’s so annoying. She just wants to curl up in a ball, hide in a dark hole and cry by herself. She can’t handle Harry’s judgment on top of her shitty midterm grade.
He stands there silently for a moment. Her lower lip has pouted out cutely and he can hear her sniffling quietly. “Was it math?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she grumbles sadly. Stupid math.
He hums. After another tense moment he asks, “Do you want help?”
“Help with what?” She stares down at her fingers, her tone dejected. The happy glimmer that usually sparkles in her eye is gone.
“With math,” he clarifies. “I can help you.”
She looks up at him curiously, still pouting. “You’d help me with math?”
He nods, pulling out the chair next to her. “Let me see your midterm,” he says, nodding his head towards the packet of math problems she’d just been sobbing over. Embarrassingly, the front page is stained with a few tears, but she hands it over nonetheless.
He scans over the first page quickly, reading the question and seeing how she answered it. “Do you know why you got this one wrong?”
She sniffles and shrugs. She hadn’t even tried to look over the questions, too mentally exhausted to even try and understand what mistakes she’d made.
“Look. You tried to cancel out the tan3x, which would make sense in any other case… but since it’s to the power of 4 you could really easily have used integration by parts.”
“Wish I knew that before I took the fucking midterm,” she huffs.
“Hey,” he tsks. “Learn from your mistakes so that you don’t make them again. You need to know this stuff to do integral tests later.”
She shakes her head. “I tried so hard, Harry,” she barely whispers, her voice exhausted. “Like I studied so much, and I really really tried to make it all make sense. But it’s just so hard for me.” She sniffles and wipes away more tears, taking a shaky breath and looking away from Harry.
She doesn’t want to try anymore. She just wants to give up.
He purses his lips, brows furrowed. There’s something about seeing y/n upset that just feels so wrong. She usually brings so much… light into a room. Seeing her cry makes it seem like the entire universe has gotten a little sadder.
“You’ve got the right idea when you’re solving these…” he tries to comfort her (though he’s never really been good at comforting people), “It’s just little things that you’re doing wrong. And it’s probably because you’ve got a shit professor who just has you copy down problems.”
“That’s literally all we do!” she whines, not even caring if she sounds like a baby. “He does the problems so fast and then I have to go home and try and figure out how he did it all by myself!” She sniffles and puts her head in her hands, more tears dropping from her eyelashes. She’s exhausted, her head starting to hurt as she exhales a shuddery breath.
He lets her cry a little bit. “Listen,” he says gently, turning to face her. The normal furrow in his brow is gone, his gaze a little bit softer. “Next time you come over with Maddie, bring your notes and we can go over them together, okay?”
She sniffles. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Like actually?”
“Yes,” he says again exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. He stands up from the table and puts her midterm back down in front of her. “Lighten up, sunshine. One bad score is not the end of the world.”
She feels a bit silly now that Harry’s witnessed her having another breakdown in the library. But, despite how little he said… he actually helped her calm down. This was not the end of the world.
“I’m going out,” Maddie says as she walks into the kitchen, discarding her half full coffee mug on the counter as she grabs her car keys from the hook in front of the door.
“Your mug!” y/n tuts like a mother. Maddie rolls her eyes as she pours the last of her coffee down the sink and puts the mug in the dishwasher. Y/n ignores the dramatic eye roll, knowing that Maddie’s just playing around, and asks, “Where are you going?”
“Over to Blake’s,” she responds with a wink. She’s been telling y/n about how she’s been waiting for Blake to text her all week because she doesn’t want to be the one texting first all the time… weird situation-ship stuff that y/n’s never experienced before. Seems like he finally texted her, with how excited Maddie is to be going over.
Just as Maddie is about to step out the door, y/n remembers Harry’s offer. He’d been serious, right? He hadn’t just said that because she was crying… right? She really hopes not, because she really could use his help. She’d been up for hours last night, trying to do the homework, but ultimately giving up because she got too frustrated with herself. Maybe… maybe he’d be able to help her?
“Wait!” y/n calls out, “Um… can I come with you?”
Maddie raises an eyebrow, “Why do you want to come over to Blake’s apartment?”
Y/n turns a bit shy, “Harry… he’s, um, helping me with math.”
“Harry?” Maddie’s eyes glimmer curiously. “He’s literally such a dick. He’s helping you?”
“He’s not that bad…” y/n mumbles, remembering the ounce of kindness he’d shown to her in the library the other day. He’s just a little bit… reserved, she’s started to realize.
“Please. He literally never smiles. I dunno how you got him to talk to you, he always ignores me when I’m over.”
(Honestly, she doesn’t blame Harry for not talking to Maddie… she sometimes ignores Maddie in her own apartment too…)
“You have two minutes to meet me in the car or I’m leaving without you!”
With her schoolbag in hand, y/n taps lightly on Harry’s door. Blake had told her to just go in, but she feels like that’s rude, so she stands in front of his door nervously and waits patiently for him to open.
“What?” he grunts, opening his bedroom door. “Oh.” The furrow in his brow softens the slightest bit when he sees it’s y/n. He’d thought it was Blake bugging him about something. Y/n is a much… nicer surprise.
“Hi,” she says, chewing on the inside of her lip nervously. “I was wondering if… um, you could help me out with my calc stuff?”
He stares at her for a second, then says, “yeah.”
He opens the door wider and she follows him in. His room is messy, but not gross. The bed is unmade, three half full water bottles on his nightstand, and there’s a pair of sweatpants on the floor… but at least it doesn’t stink!
His computer screen is paused mid-game, and she realizes that he’d still been holding his controller when he’d opened up the door for her. He throws a jacket that had been thrown on the back of his chair onto the bed, and motions for her to sit. Then he pulls up another chair that was sitting in the corner of his room to sit next to her.
“Let’s see it,” he says, shutting down his computer.
“So…” she takes her laptop out of her bag, setting it down on his desk and turning it on so that she can open up her homework assignment. While it loads, she unlocks her ipad to the scratch work she’d done last night. “I was trying to do the homework last night, and I think I’m supposed to be doing integration by parts but honestly I’m not even sure how to do that… so I’m kind of lost.”
Harry leans over her ipad and looks at the work she’d done. It’s… wrong.
“Can I see your notes for integration by parts?” He asks, trying to figure out how she ended up with 1 as her answer when it should be a much larger, much more complicated mix of trig and integrals. She scrolls up until she lands on a page titled Chapter 7, and points to the second example on the problem. Her notes are cute, written in pink with girlish, bubbly handwriting. However, it’s clear that she’d been struggling to keep up with the lecture, some of her work completely scribbled out and replaced with messy numbers and formulas. Next to one of the big portions of scribbled out math, she's written “WHAT???” along with a sad face doodled underneath it.
Clearly she’s a bit confused.
“Okay…” he scrolls down to a new page in her digital notebook and copies down the example problem that had confused her. “Let me show you how you do integration by parts first, and then we’ll look at the homework problem, okay?”
“M’kay,” she hums compliantly, crossing her legs and hiding her hands in her sleeves. She feels a bit… nervous. She doesn’t want Harry to think she’s stupid. But she’d rather have her ego a little bruised than fail the next midterm too.
“So… you do integration by parts when you can’t just do normal integration… usually if there’s e^x in there or a natural log then you know that you have to do integration by parts.”
She nods, following along quietly.
“In this one… you have x times e^x dx… you have to break it up into two parts, U and dV. And then you take the derivative of U and find the integral of dV. And you plug that into the formula. Do you know the formula?”
She blinks at him. “Um…” she shuffles through her notes and finds it. “It’s this.”
“Good… so what you do is you assign x to either U or dV and then e^x(dx) to the other… and then you find dU and V based off of that. Should we make x be U or dV?”
She purses her lips, “Make x=U?”
“Yes…” he nods. “Do you know why?”
She shrugs. “I guessed.”
His lip quirks up in the first smile y/n’s ever seen from him, a slight dimple popping up in his cheek. “S’cos we have to either find the derivative of U, or find the integral of dV. It’s way easier to use the derivative of x, cause it’s just one. If we made x equal to dV… then we’d add a fraction and a power of two to our equation and it’ll just make things ugly.”
“Oh.” She stares at his hands as he writes down what he just said in math terms, scribbling in his boyish handwriting that U=x and dU=1. “Okay.”
“So if U=x, then dV is equal to….”
“e^x?” she answers.
“Good,” he says gently. “And what is V?”
She stays silent for a moment, searching the paper as if it’ll give her an answer. He senses her confusion and helps her out, saying, “IF V is the integral of dV, and dV is e^x…”
“Well Isn’t the integral of e^x still e^x?” Her voice is unconfident, looking up at Harry with wide, round eyes.
“You’re right,” he says encouragingly, a soft smile on his face. “Stop doubting yourself so much.”
A reciprocating smile spreads on her face, feeling a little more confident with Harry’s praise.
“All you do now is put your numbers into the formula. Can you do it?”
He hands the pen over to her, their fingers brushing. Her hair falls in front of her face as she leans over the page to write down her answer, and Harry watches softly as she tucks it back behind her ear. He notices how long and delicate her eyelashes are as he stares at her side profile.
“Is that right?” she asks quietly, trying hard to be confident but still so nervous that she’s done it wrong.
He tears his eyes away from her face. “Almost,” he says, leaning forward. Their arms brush against each other, the space that they initially had set between their chairs having shrunk as they worked on the problem together. She can feel his breath as he quietly murmurs next to her ear, “You just need to add +C at the end.”
She furrows her eyebrows and turns her head towards him, and feels her heart stutter as she realizes how close their faces actually are. “What does the +C mean?”
“It’s just like… it’s supposed to represent any constants that we couldn’t find. Because when you take the derivative of a constant it just ends up being zero, so when you’re given an integral and doing the anti-differential process… you don’t know if there was actually a constant there or what it was. So the +C is just representing any constant value that could’ve been in the answer, even though you don’t know what the number is.”
She blinks at him. “Um… okay. I’ll just pretend like that made sense.”
He chuckles, the first time she’s probably ever heard him laugh. “It’s honestly not that important to get it. Just remember to add +C every time you take an integral.”
“Got it…” she says, adding the +C.
“Think you can do the next one on your own?”
+++
“Harry,” y/n pouts. “It says I’m wrong but I dunno why.”
He pauses his game and slides out of his seat, going over to y/n. She’d relocated to his bed after they did a couple more problems together and felt confident enough to do the rest by herself. His chest brushing against her back softly as he leans over her shoulder, going over her work. “What’s the integral of sin(x)?”
“Cos(x),” she says confidently.
“Not quite…”
She sits there for a second, brows furrowed. “Oh!” she adds a negative in front of the cos(x).
“There you go,” he grins down at her.
She lays down on his bed, her hair splaying out behind her as she throws her ipad on his bed, relieved. “Harry. You’re a genius.”
He laughs, a quiet huff of air that passes out of his nose with an amused smile on his face. “So it makes sense?”
“I think you should be teaching our class. You’re so good. Thank you for helping me.”
He hums, giving her a satisfied smirk, and goes back to his game while she finishes her homework. It's a strange setup, sitting in his bed and doing her homework while he plays, but she doesn’t mind it.
hope u guys loved it!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (july 29) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!
sunshine - part 2 (already posted on patreon!) : In which Harry's a little bit nicer, and y/n is very excited to possibly, hopefully, maybe be kissed.
a/n: I saw the video of Joe and had to do this. I would love to go to shows and meet artists with this man. I know music means a lot to him. Also I had to make the girlfriend a concert photographer, I HAD TO. Anyways enjoying this sweet moment<3 I do not give permission to repost my work anywhere!
pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!photographer reader
wc: 1.4k
warnings: just fluff and a bit of swearing!
You can still remember the look on Joseph’s face when he got the call from his manager. Metallica wanted to invite him out to their headlining show at Lollapalooza 2022 in Chicago. You were convinced he was like a little boy on Christmas. He was bouncing up and down the walls for weeks. Working logistics out, he was able to score a backstage pass for you as well because he wanted his best girl to experience this with him.
Sure you had been to plenty of shows with Joe, especially Haim shows as he was good friends with the youngest Alana. But meeting a legendary band the both of you grew up on, you couldn’t help but feel over the moon. Premieres, press junkets and cons later you finally found yourself in the bustling city of Chicago. The sweltering heat was no joke as you were grateful you packed a plethora of shorts, skirts and dresses. Your hotel room wasn’t too far from the festival grounds and you could see the crowds forming outside the venue.
“It doesn’t feel real,” he murmured as you walked up next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your chin resting barely on his shoulder as you looked out the window towards the city’s busy landscape. “Well you aren’t dreaming that’s for sure. You worked hard for this. Everything. Not just meeting the band but the fans, the love, the attention. I know your worth and so do you.” His hands threaded with yours and the two of you stayed there a bit.
One of the many people on his team came knocking, letting the both of you know that it had been time to head to the music fest. “It’s now or never, rockstar.”
The car ride consisted of Joe practicing different jokes, lots of head banging and air guitars. Metallica blasted through the speakers of the Cadillac Escalade that held his team. You could tell he was getting nervous with the way his leg was bouncing up and down and he had been biting his thumb nail. “Hey, it’s alright baby. They are gonna love you Joe. The love that the show has brought to the Metallica fans is astounding. They would be crazy not to!” “No I know, it’s just that these guys are absolute legends and they have done so much.” “I will be right by your side, you know this.”
His hand was tightly held in yours as badges were checked in and security got through the both of you and his team. These green and lavender fabric wristbands adorned everyone’s wrists with the words “Backstage Pass” embroidered on it. It felt surreal as the two of you walked over to the private areas restricted for artists. His hand squeezing yours as signs littered with “Metallica” were becoming more apparent. “It’s all happening,” you whispered in his ear as you were jumping up and down.
A security guard told you two to wait for a minute while the band got situated. His eyes went wide in disbelief as he looked around. “Holy shit we are meeting Metallica. Fuckin’ Metallica babe,” he was going mental and it made you giggle at how excited he was becoming. That’s when he went quiet. You turned around to see a face pop around the corner. Long, curly, gray hair was falling everywhere around his face. Kirk Hammet. “Hey guys! Come in and meet the rest of the crew!” It was all happening.
Lars, James, Kirk and Robert were all there in person. You just knew you looked like a young fangirl. Joe was in a practical button up and his favorite Levi jeans paired with some worn down tan boots. You on the other hand were in a faux black leather skirt that laces up on either side. Yet, the show stopper was a corset made from a ‘Master of Puppets’ shirt. All of this paired with your favorite pair of Docs.
They had all been there in their ‘metal glory’. The lead singer stepped up taking your boyfriend’s hand, “You’re taller than on TV!” Everyone erupted in laughter as introductions were thrown around and compliments were starting to get mixed together.
The 6 of you got settled in as filming crews were plastered around to capture this gracious experience on behalf of Netflix. James and Joe immediately started going back and forth about the show and the previous seasons. You and the rest of the band watched in awe. It was unlike any other meet and greet you had done with artists. Kirk had one of his guitars cradled in his hands as he struck up a conversation with you. “Hey I understand you’re a photographer?”
This took you by surprise. “Y-yea I am! I met Joseph at a show I was working at actually!” The two of you started comparing anecdotes once James gave his thanks to your British lover when you and the 59 year old guitarist joined in along with the group. “Oh my god that was what we practically heard for two years,” you quipped up. Nodding in agreement, he added,”We feel sort of connected to you guys.” The conversation felt like it lasted an eternity when Robert pondered a great question, “You wanna jam with us?”
The flustered man to your left spouted an answer of being a bit ‘rusty’ and joked how he might need a lesson or two. The nearly 40 year old band led the way to the tuning room where the in-ears and guitars and basses were held. Drum kits with picks and sticks were everywhere. It was truly a music lover's dream. “We even got you a pair of in-ears.Not sure if you’ve used them but now you are officially a rockstar,” James explained. You sat on the other side of the room to see the love of your life get to play amongst musical geniuses.
Pictures and videos were being taken as you wanted to freeze this moment in time. Lars gave a 4 count to the beginning of the song as the three guitarists synced and Robert plucked at the strings of his bass. The all too familiar song flooded your ear canals and you moshed your head in time with the beat. As much as the two of you were repeating this, it truly was surreal.
A wide grin spread across his face as the song came to a stop but he was over the moon. He let out one of his famous giggles as Lars announced into one of the cameras that Metallica was now suiting up to be a 5 piece. Joining your boyfriend with the rest of the band, Robert brought out a rather large but flat case. Gasps from Joe and you filled the room as you clapped in surprise.
An exact replica of the NJ Warlock by B.C. Rich Guitar was gifted to your boyfriend as he dropped to his knees in a whirlwind of emotions. Your hands intrinsically went under his arms to bring him back to his feet. Tears started slipping down your face as you couldn’t hide your happiness for him. Just the kindness and atmosphere the band created for him was incredible.
“Well we could sign it for you and fuck it all up,” James nonchalantly offered. Your eyes shot straight to his, answering before your boyfriend could. “Would you mind?” A silver sharpie was being brought out as Joseph held the guitar for more stability as each member one by one autographed the special gift.
It was unspoken that pictures had to be taken. The band and Joseph. The band and you. Then eventually the lot of you.
The guitar had been gently placed back in the case as it was already being shipped back to his flat across the Atlantic. Graces, goodbyes and words of luck were exchanged in regards to the show later in the evening. Hugs and handshakes were the last thing that connected you and the band before leaving.
Small tears were coating your boyfriend’s cheeks as you walked back to your designated area. “That was incredible and I am so proud of you,” you whispered as you pulled him in for a tight and warming hug. “Most metal ever,” he mumbled. The two of you let out small laughs as he rested his forehead on yours.
a/n: I saw the video of Joe and had to do this. I would love to go to shows and meet artists with this man. I know music means a lot to him. Also I had to make the girlfriend a concert photographer, I HAD TO. Anyways enjoying this sweet moment<3 I do not give permission to repost my work anywhere!
pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!photographer reader
wc: 1.4k
warnings: just fluff and a bit of swearing!
You can still remember the look on Joseph’s face when he got the call from his manager. Metallica wanted to invite him out to their headlining show at Lollapalooza 2022 in Chicago. You were convinced he was like a little boy on Christmas. He was bouncing up and down the walls for weeks. Working logistics out, he was able to score a backstage pass for you as well because he wanted his best girl to experience this with him.
Sure you had been to plenty of shows with Joe, especially Haim shows as he was good friends with the youngest Alana. But meeting a legendary band the both of you grew up on, you couldn’t help but feel over the moon. Premieres, press junkets and cons later you finally found yourself in the bustling city of Chicago. The sweltering heat was no joke as you were grateful you packed a plethora of shorts, skirts and dresses. Your hotel room wasn’t too far from the festival grounds and you could see the crowds forming outside the venue.
“It doesn’t feel real,” he murmured as you walked up next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your chin resting barely on his shoulder as you looked out the window towards the city’s busy landscape. “Well you aren’t dreaming that’s for sure. You worked hard for this. Everything. Not just meeting the band but the fans, the love, the attention. I know your worth and so do you.” His hands threaded with yours and the two of you stayed there a bit.
One of the many people on his team came knocking, letting the both of you know that it had been time to head to the music fest. “It’s now or never, rockstar.”
The car ride consisted of Joe practicing different jokes, lots of head banging and air guitars. Metallica blasted through the speakers of the Cadillac Escalade that held his team. You could tell he was getting nervous with the way his leg was bouncing up and down and he had been biting his thumb nail. “Hey, it’s alright baby. They are gonna love you Joe. The love that the show has brought to the Metallica fans is astounding. They would be crazy not to!” “No I know, it’s just that these guys are absolute legends and they have done so much.” “I will be right by your side, you know this.”
His hand was tightly held in yours as badges were checked in and security got through the both of you and his team. These green and lavender fabric wristbands adorned everyone’s wrists with the words “Backstage Pass” embroidered on it. It felt surreal as the two of you walked over to the private areas restricted for artists. His hand squeezing yours as signs littered with “Metallica” were becoming more apparent. “It’s all happening,” you whispered in his ear as you were jumping up and down.
A security guard told you two to wait for a minute while the band got situated. His eyes went wide in disbelief as he looked around. “Holy shit we are meeting Metallica. Fuckin’ Metallica babe,” he was going mental and it made you giggle at how excited he was becoming. That’s when he went quiet. You turned around to see a face pop around the corner. Long, curly, gray hair was falling everywhere around his face. Kirk Hammet. “Hey guys! Come in and meet the rest of the crew!” It was all happening.
Lars, James, Kirk and Robert were all there in person. You just knew you looked like a young fangirl. Joe was in a practical button up and his favorite Levi jeans paired with some worn down tan boots. You on the other hand were in a faux black leather skirt that laces up on either side. Yet, the show stopper was a corset made from a ‘Master of Puppets’ shirt. All of this paired with your favorite pair of Docs.
They had all been there in their ‘metal glory’. The lead singer stepped up taking your boyfriend’s hand, “You’re taller than on TV!” Everyone erupted in laughter as introductions were thrown around and compliments were starting to get mixed together.
The 6 of you got settled in as filming crews were plastered around to capture this gracious experience on behalf of Netflix. James and Joe immediately started going back and forth about the show and the previous seasons. You and the rest of the band watched in awe. It was unlike any other meet and greet you had done with artists. Kirk had one of his guitars cradled in his hands as he struck up a conversation with you. “Hey I understand you’re a photographer?”
This took you by surprise. “Y-yea I am! I met Joseph at a show I was working at actually!” The two of you started comparing anecdotes once James gave his thanks to your British lover when you and the 59 year old guitarist joined in along with the group. “Oh my god that was what we practically heard for two years,” you quipped up. Nodding in agreement, he added,”We feel sort of connected to you guys.” The conversation felt like it lasted an eternity when Robert pondered a great question, “You wanna jam with us?”
The flustered man to your left spouted an answer of being a bit ‘rusty’ and joked how he might need a lesson or two. The nearly 40 year old band led the way to the tuning room where the in-ears and guitars and basses were held. Drum kits with picks and sticks were everywhere. It was truly a music lover's dream. “We even got you a pair of in-ears.Not sure if you’ve used them but now you are officially a rockstar,” James explained. You sat on the other side of the room to see the love of your life get to play amongst musical geniuses.
Pictures and videos were being taken as you wanted to freeze this moment in time. Lars gave a 4 count to the beginning of the song as the three guitarists synced and Robert plucked at the strings of his bass. The all too familiar song flooded your ear canals and you moshed your head in time with the beat. As much as the two of you were repeating this, it truly was surreal.
A wide grin spread across his face as the song came to a stop but he was over the moon. He let out one of his famous giggles as Lars announced into one of the cameras that Metallica was now suiting up to be a 5 piece. Joining your boyfriend with the rest of the band, Robert brought out a rather large but flat case. Gasps from Joe and you filled the room as you clapped in surprise.
An exact replica of the NJ Warlock by B.C. Rich Guitar was gifted to your boyfriend as he dropped to his knees in a whirlwind of emotions. Your hands intrinsically went under his arms to bring him back to his feet. Tears started slipping down your face as you couldn’t hide your happiness for him. Just the kindness and atmosphere the band created for him was incredible.
“Well we could sign it for you and fuck it all up,” James nonchalantly offered. Your eyes shot straight to his, answering before your boyfriend could. “Would you mind?” A silver sharpie was being brought out as Joseph held the guitar for more stability as each member one by one autographed the special gift.
It was unspoken that pictures had to be taken. The band and Joseph. The band and you. Then eventually the lot of you.
The guitar had been gently placed back in the case as it was already being shipped back to his flat across the Atlantic. Graces, goodbyes and words of luck were exchanged in regards to the show later in the evening. Hugs and handshakes were the last thing that connected you and the band before leaving.
Small tears were coating your boyfriend’s cheeks as you walked back to your designated area. “That was incredible and I am so proud of you,” you whispered as you pulled him in for a tight and warming hug. “Most metal ever,” he mumbled. The two of you let out small laughs as he rested his forehead on yours.
Can u do a Eddie x Female best friend reader of him having a crush on u headcanons and you hear Dustin aka Ur little BROTHER and you hear Eddie comes to Dustin for advice about a girl and he didn’t know it’s his big sister that his best friend likes ORRR. You could do the opposite of this headcanon like u could do where u can hear them talking about you u hear Eddie saying he likes and u and bragging about you all the time to the hellfire which you are apart of but he didn’t make it noticeable to you about the girl he really likes I’m sorry I need to stop thinking about Eddie headcanons 😬 sorry if this is too long
I absolutely love this idea! I just love the bond between Dustin and Eddie and the fact that both of them can go to each other about different types of situations! Especially when it would have to do with something as intricate as Dustin’s older sister. He knows it would be a delicate situation. Thank you for the request!
Summary: Eddie needs love advice from his right hand man, but it’s to get a girl that is off-limits.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!best friend reader (Henderson edition)
Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff, some swearing, a bit of insecure y/n, hint of angst, happy ending <3
High school scared you. Not for you but your little brother Dustin. Being as it was your senior year, you had a pretty decent experience. In no way was it awful besides some of the shitty teachers and the boring classes at 8 a.m.. It also wasn’t the best time of your life, you simply didn’t peak in high school like many of your peers did. This was partly due to having your best friend at your hip. Eddie and Y/N. Everyone knew you as two peas in a pod.
Since middle school gym class, the both of you made a promise to each other. That going into high school you wouldn’t forget about each other and you wouldn’t turn into an asshole. He was two years older than you and he promised he would look after you. In return, he asked you to not do anything stupid. It kind of did freak you out a bit when you had entered sophomore year and he was doing his first round of senior year. The idea that you would have to do it by yourself. He would never admit it, but a small part of him stuck around because he knew it wouldn’t be right to just leave you.
Cut to 1986. 7 years worth of a friendship and the two of you were better than ever. Skipping classes, getting high off your asses, going to the hideout every Tuesday to staying up late with him to plan for the next campaign when you should probably be studying for Ms.O'Donnell's English final. The cherry on top of the sundae was the newest addition of Dustin, your little brother, and his friends.
Will moving to California was hard on Dustin because the 4 of them were never separated for long periods of time and entering such a new place as high school was extremely terrifying. That’s why your heart swooned over Eddie when he personally took Dustin under his wing. The way you saw them at lunch or at Hellfire meetings, the two men in your life that you had unconditional love for.
Deep down you knew how you felt towards your best friend. Everyone around you could see it. Eddie might have even seen it, but it was never spoken of. You knew the minute feelings were to get involved, things would get messy and complicated and neither of you were one for confrontations. Physical or emotional.
It took you by surprise when Eddie asked to talk with Dustin alone before tonight’s meeting. Your puzzled eyes met Eddie’s at the head of the table, “Why just Dustin?” He seemed a bit frantic, “Oh it’s nothing, just have to talk with him about something. Really s’nothing Y/N.” Before you could interject to call out his bs, Mike started arguing with Dustin over whose girlfriend was better. “All I’m saying is that El saved the world like three times. She’s literally a superhero.” “Yet, you still have a C in Spanish,” Dustin retorted. The two of them kept bickering as Eddie just had his head hung low and bit his nails. A habit he only had when he was either nervous or unsure of something.
It was unlike Eddie or Dustin to hide something from you and it made you utterly anxious. It couldn’t have been good if Eddie wasn’t telling the truth. That’s why you skipped 8th early so you could follow Eddie. Creeping behind walls and lockers, you followed the two to the club’s usual meeting spot, the theater’s black box. Eddie could feel someone following him so he knew he had to be quick. Shoving Dustin into the room, he immediately slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click and mentally groaned, ‘of course he would,’ you thought to yourself.
You snuck over as fast as you could leaning your ear against the door. It was a bit muffled but you could still make out what they had been saying. Unbeknownst to you Eddie was pacing the room back and forth, twirling a piece of hair between his fingers to calm his nerves. “Eddie, what was so important you needed to drag me here,” you heard your little brother ask. It was physically impossible but you leaned in closer trying to clearly hear what has been distracting your best friend. “There is–well okay. There is this girl okay. And well I like her–I really like. Have liked her for a while. A-and I’m pretty sure she likes me too. At least everyone says so,” he rambled on.
“Okay and who is she, Eddie?” He simply shook his head and kept pacing. “I can’t tell you.” You heard one of Dustin’s infamous sighs. “You can’t tell me, that’s great. So much help.” “Zip it Henderson.” “Okay so why are you telling me all of this?” Your eyes were wide in anticipation as you wanted to know who this mystery girl was. Sure there were girls he would stare at or hookup with after gigs which you admit made you extremely jealous. But you had your fair share of dates you had been on, none that Eddie approved of. So why wouldn’t he tell you about this girl?
“I dunno. I needed to tell someone before I burst. It’s like whenever I see her, my stomach is fucking going wild and my heart beats like really fast. She’s pretty and smart and funny and gets me. She doesn’t look at me like I'm a–a freak Henderson. I don’t want to mess anything up. She’ll be too good to lose.” His confession made your heart drop. What you wouldn’t give to have that effect on him. To be the one to make him feel that way.
“Okay so you like her and you are pretty sure she likes you. And you are worried if you do talk to her about your feelings, she’ll back out?” All Eddie could do was nod in agreement. “Eddie, if she likes you and doesn’t judge you, what makes you think she will say no? Sure there is the possibility of saying no, but I think having the courage to even tell her how you feel is a huge thing. She will probably think you’re brave.” Even though you didn’t like what they had been talking about, you couldn’t help but feel proud of your younger brother’s intelligent and wise response.
“If you’re not right, I swear to God I’m going to give you the biggest wedgie you’ve felt in your life.” Checking his watch, Eddie saw it was almost time for class to end. “Shit okay we gotta go. Hey, if you tell anyone about what I said–even Y/N, you’re toast. Got it?” “Loud and clear.” Shit. Shit. Shit. You couldn’t get away from the door fast enough before Eddie saw you crouched down towards the door. “Y/N?” Fuck. “What are you doing here?” You couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind was racing with thoughts and questions. “Who is the girl Eddie?”
“You were listening to our conversation,” Dustin asked. “That is none of your business and go back to class.” “Y/n that’s unfair!” Your eyes dictated him to do otherwise. You waited for your little brother to round the corner for you to fully face Eddie. “It was you that followed us?” You nodded, afraid your voice would give away your true feelings. “How much did you hear? Y/N?” An exasperated sigh left your lips. “I heard it all. I heard how you feel about her and how you don’t want to fuck it up. I just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me. What about her is so important that you can’t tell your best friend?” “Y/N–,” cutting him off before he could finish. “I come to you for anything and everything. We are supposed to be best friends. Is it someone I don’t like? Wait–” Tears flooded your eyes at the thought of someone you did not want around him. Chrissy Cunningham. “It’s Chrissy isn't it? I knew it! I asked you, begged you! Of all people, not her!”
You couldn’t help the volume increase in your voice but this hurt. Your throat felt on fire and your cheeks were burning to a crisp. “Jesus H. Christ Y/N!” His voice echoed in the hallway. “It’s not Chrissy! It’s you! I couldn’t fuckin’ tell you because it’s you I love. You clearly heard I couldn’t tell Dustin because you know he would have been fuckin’ weirded out,” he huffed out. That was not the answer you were expecting. Your eyes were searching his to see if he was joking or not. All you could see were tears of frustration building. He didn’t want to tell you like this.
“And you ask where Dustin gets his impatience. You know I wanted to take you to our spot and talk. But no, you had to get all nosey and jealous.” Your eyes went wide and your mouth opened to say something but you felt his lips crash into yours. Without even thinking your lips molded with his as his hands cupped your face. The kiss was so delicate yet so passionate. A few tears slipped from your eyes are relief and happiness washed over you. It truly felt like one of those cinematic kisses. Where the theater is silent as everyone watches in awe.
He slowly pulled away to get a better look at you. “Come on Y/N, it’s always been you. You’re my girl. No one could ever change that, especially Chrissy Cunningham.” You smiled at his words that were as sweet as honey. You pecked his lips as your hands draped around his neck.
“Seriously, you sent me back to class so you could make out?” You both laughed and made out in an exaggerated way as Dustin was dry heaving and walked out.
Can u do a Eddie x Female best friend reader of him having a crush on u headcanons and you hear Dustin aka Ur little BROTHER and you hear Eddie comes to Dustin for advice about a girl and he didn’t know it’s his big sister that his best friend likes ORRR. You could do the opposite of this headcanon like u could do where u can hear them talking about you u hear Eddie saying he likes and u and bragging about you all the time to the hellfire which you are apart of but he didn’t make it noticeable to you about the girl he really likes I’m sorry I need to stop thinking about Eddie headcanons 😬 sorry if this is too long
I absolutely love this idea! I just love the bond between Dustin and Eddie and the fact that both of them can go to each other about different types of situations! Especially when it would have to do with something as intricate as Dustin’s older sister. He knows it would be a delicate situation. Thank you for the request!
Summary: Eddie needs love advice from his right hand man, but it’s to get a girl that is off-limits.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!best friend reader (Henderson edition)
Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff, some swearing, a bit of insecure y/n, hint of angst, happy ending <3
High school scared you. Not for you but your little brother Dustin. Being as it was your senior year, you had a pretty decent experience. In no way was it awful besides some of the shitty teachers and the boring classes at 8 a.m.. It also wasn’t the best time of your life, you simply didn’t peak in high school like many of your peers did. This was partly due to having your best friend at your hip. Eddie and Y/N. Everyone knew you as two peas in a pod.
Since middle school gym class, the both of you made a promise to each other. That going into high school you wouldn’t forget about each other and you wouldn’t turn into an asshole. He was two years older than you and he promised he would look after you. In return, he asked you to not do anything stupid. It kind of did freak you out a bit when you had entered sophomore year and he was doing his first round of senior year. The idea that you would have to do it by yourself. He would never admit it, but a small part of him stuck around because he knew it wouldn’t be right to just leave you.
Cut to 1986. 7 years worth of a friendship and the two of you were better than ever. Skipping classes, getting high off your asses, going to the hideout every Tuesday to staying up late with him to plan for the next campaign when you should probably be studying for Ms.O'Donnell's English final. The cherry on top of the sundae was the newest addition of Dustin, your little brother, and his friends.
Will moving to California was hard on Dustin because the 4 of them were never separated for long periods of time and entering such a new place as high school was extremely terrifying. That’s why your heart swooned over Eddie when he personally took Dustin under his wing. The way you saw them at lunch or at Hellfire meetings, the two men in your life that you had unconditional love for.
Deep down you knew how you felt towards your best friend. Everyone around you could see it. Eddie might have even seen it, but it was never spoken of. You knew the minute feelings were to get involved, things would get messy and complicated and neither of you were one for confrontations. Physical or emotional.
It took you by surprise when Eddie asked to talk with Dustin alone before tonight’s meeting. Your puzzled eyes met Eddie’s at the head of the table, “Why just Dustin?” He seemed a bit frantic, “Oh it’s nothing, just have to talk with him about something. Really s’nothing Y/N.” Before you could interject to call out his bs, Mike started arguing with Dustin over whose girlfriend was better. “All I’m saying is that El saved the world like three times. She’s literally a superhero.” “Yet, you still have a C in Spanish,” Dustin retorted. The two of them kept bickering as Eddie just had his head hung low and bit his nails. A habit he only had when he was either nervous or unsure of something.
It was unlike Eddie or Dustin to hide something from you and it made you utterly anxious. It couldn’t have been good if Eddie wasn’t telling the truth. That’s why you skipped 8th early so you could follow Eddie. Creeping behind walls and lockers, you followed the two to the club’s usual meeting spot, the theater’s black box. Eddie could feel someone following him so he knew he had to be quick. Shoving Dustin into the room, he immediately slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click and mentally groaned, ‘of course he would,’ you thought to yourself.
You snuck over as fast as you could leaning your ear against the door. It was a bit muffled but you could still make out what they had been saying. Unbeknownst to you Eddie was pacing the room back and forth, twirling a piece of hair between his fingers to calm his nerves. “Eddie, what was so important you needed to drag me here,” you heard your little brother ask. It was physically impossible but you leaned in closer trying to clearly hear what has been distracting your best friend. “There is–well okay. There is this girl okay. And well I like her–I really like. Have liked her for a while. A-and I’m pretty sure she likes me too. At least everyone says so,” he rambled on.
“Okay and who is she, Eddie?” He simply shook his head and kept pacing. “I can’t tell you.” You heard one of Dustin’s infamous sighs. “You can’t tell me, that’s great. So much help.” “Zip it Henderson.” “Okay so why are you telling me all of this?” Your eyes were wide in anticipation as you wanted to know who this mystery girl was. Sure there were girls he would stare at or hookup with after gigs which you admit made you extremely jealous. But you had your fair share of dates you had been on, none that Eddie approved of. So why wouldn’t he tell you about this girl?
“I dunno. I needed to tell someone before I burst. It’s like whenever I see her, my stomach is fucking going wild and my heart beats like really fast. She’s pretty and smart and funny and gets me. She doesn’t look at me like I'm a–a freak Henderson. I don’t want to mess anything up. She’ll be too good to lose.” His confession made your heart drop. What you wouldn’t give to have that effect on him. To be the one to make him feel that way.
“Okay so you like her and you are pretty sure she likes you. And you are worried if you do talk to her about your feelings, she’ll back out?” All Eddie could do was nod in agreement. “Eddie, if she likes you and doesn’t judge you, what makes you think she will say no? Sure there is the possibility of saying no, but I think having the courage to even tell her how you feel is a huge thing. She will probably think you’re brave.” Even though you didn’t like what they had been talking about, you couldn’t help but feel proud of your younger brother’s intelligent and wise response.
“If you’re not right, I swear to God I’m going to give you the biggest wedgie you’ve felt in your life.” Checking his watch, Eddie saw it was almost time for class to end. “Shit okay we gotta go. Hey, if you tell anyone about what I said–even Y/N, you’re toast. Got it?” “Loud and clear.” Shit. Shit. Shit. You couldn’t get away from the door fast enough before Eddie saw you crouched down towards the door. “Y/N?” Fuck. “What are you doing here?” You couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind was racing with thoughts and questions. “Who is the girl Eddie?”
“You were listening to our conversation,” Dustin asked. “That is none of your business and go back to class.” “Y/n that’s unfair!” Your eyes dictated him to do otherwise. You waited for your little brother to round the corner for you to fully face Eddie. “It was you that followed us?” You nodded, afraid your voice would give away your true feelings. “How much did you hear? Y/N?” An exasperated sigh left your lips. “I heard it all. I heard how you feel about her and how you don’t want to fuck it up. I just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me. What about her is so important that you can’t tell your best friend?” “Y/N–,” cutting him off before he could finish. “I come to you for anything and everything. We are supposed to be best friends. Is it someone I don’t like? Wait–” Tears flooded your eyes at the thought of someone you did not want around him. Chrissy Cunningham. “It’s Chrissy isn't it? I knew it! I asked you, begged you! Of all people, not her!”
You couldn’t help the volume increase in your voice but this hurt. Your throat felt on fire and your cheeks were burning to a crisp. “Jesus H. Christ Y/N!” His voice echoed in the hallway. “It’s not Chrissy! It’s you! I couldn’t fuckin’ tell you because it’s you I love. You clearly heard I couldn’t tell Dustin because you know he would have been fuckin’ weirded out,” he huffed out. That was not the answer you were expecting. Your eyes were searching his to see if he was joking or not. All you could see were tears of frustration building. He didn’t want to tell you like this.
“And you ask where Dustin gets his impatience. You know I wanted to take you to our spot and talk. But no, you had to get all nosey and jealous.” Your eyes went wide and your mouth opened to say something but you felt his lips crash into yours. Without even thinking your lips molded with his as his hands cupped your face. The kiss was so delicate yet so passionate. A few tears slipped from your eyes are relief and happiness washed over you. It truly felt like one of those cinematic kisses. Where the theater is silent as everyone watches in awe.
He slowly pulled away to get a better look at you. “Come on Y/N, it’s always been you. You’re my girl. No one could ever change that, especially Chrissy Cunningham.” You smiled at his words that were as sweet as honey. You pecked his lips as your hands draped around his neck.
“Seriously, you sent me back to class so you could make out?” You both laughed and made out in an exaggerated way as Dustin was dry heaving and walked out.
a/n: Lord have mercy. This is just straight porn. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing! As always requests are always open!
Summary: Eddie finds himself at a strip club one night and sees a familiar face on stage. How could he not request a dance?
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Graphic description, rough sex, Dom!Eddie,choking, swearing, being a stripper? Alcohol consumption, pet names: kitten, doll, etc. sexual tension, creampie, unprotected sex, Wrap it before you tap!
Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader stripper
Wc: 4.3k
Photo credit: N/A
Do not post my work anywhere!
Friday nights were always the busiest of your week. It was payday and everyone wanted a stress reliever for a hard week’s work. You had claimed your residency at the club a little over 7 months ago. It was pretty hard to miss the neon signs that illuminated the front of the building. A giant yellow and pink flashing neon sign etched ‘PANTHER PLAYGROUND’ with a bright pink cat that switched to a girl arching her back. On the front of the building were other neon signs in hues of blues, purples and pinks ‘Girls Girls Girls’, ‘All Nude’, ‘Live Girls’. The strip club had been located 15 minutes south of Hawkins, where you and most of the girls lived.
Plenty of graduated seniors and business men made their way there every week it seemed. Most of your shifts, much like this one, started at 10 p.m. and ended near 2 a.m. You had 5 half hour floor sets and the rest of the time was spent in the private rooms where regulars, out of towners or newbies wanted a one on one dance. While you might have been fairly new to the playground, you were the hottest ticket in town.
You had graduated over a year ago and had been the youngest girl there at a whooping nineteen. That drove everyone up the wall. It earned you the nickname ‘Babydoll’. You played on this by wearing bright and playful colors. Your signature was pink. Baby pink lipgloss, lingerie, heels, makeup, and pink glitter. The more innocent you looked the more bills you collected at the end of the night. Frills, lace, shimmer, you name it.
It had already been 12:15 a.m. and it was time for your third set of the night, except now you were on the main stage. The reflective tiles littered across were in the shape of a giant ‘T’. It seemed like a catwalk with the pole right in the middle of the stage’s junction. That was your favorite place to dance. You could easily get lost as the spotlight followed you down the aisle. Your friends often asked if you still had stage fright but it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t wait to strut out onto the stage and captivate the lively bodies in the room.
The club’s walls were bouncing from the bass and reverberation of each of the songs that played one after another. Each girl had a mix that played when they were on the main stage. Through all of the glitter and innocence, your mix consisted of rock and metal. The juxtaposition alone made the room go wild. Scanning the crowd, you knew tonight was going to be a good one. Weekends in the summer always were. “Next up, you know her, you love her. She's the Panther's girl next door. Give it up for…Babydoll!” The DJ’s voice mixed with the cheers and whistles that echoed in your ears.
You pranced up the stairs and smiled and waved at some of the familiar faces you spotted in the crowd. Twirling to get some of the tables more loud and playing with your hair that was curled and teased up. Before you planted yourself on the pole, you turned to a random table of guys you're recognized from a few years ago at Hawkins High. It was your way to start a set by blowing a glossed kiss at a new table every night.
You raised your right hand above your head and gripped the pole tight. Squeezing your thighs and arching your back so your ass was clearly pushed against the cold steel. That’s when ‘Girls Girls Girls’ by Motley Crue blasted throughout the club. Mixtures of 1’s. 5’s, and 20’s were starting to get thrown at you. Intricately swinging and grinding on the pole. Running your hands up and down your body. Bending over and arching to place yourself in positions that leave little to the imagination.
Right as you worked your way to the chorus you decided to pay the folks at the end of the catwalk some attention. Crawling on all fours, sensually, you heard praises and clapping from either side of you. But that was drowned out. Everything was drowned out as you looked up right at the front doors. The doors had opened to reveal someone who would have never expected to waltz right in.
Back in your senior year, you had shared a few classes with him. He failed almost all of them. Not because he wasn’t smart but because he struggled but no one gave a shit. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. The reason you two got along was maybe for your love of metal and rock or the fact that you actually helped him in class or the few times you bought a quarter off of him occasionally. He always called you a freak but you liked it. Liked that if you two shared things in common then you would gladly wear the name on your sleeves.
The odd thing was you had never seen him in here before, so now you were intrigued as to why he had been here. But as Vince Neil’s voice reverberated off of the walls, his eyes seemed to catch yours and a wave of shock ran through his eyes but a prominent smirk was etched on his face. This translated into a newfound confidence for you. This dance isn't for everyone anymore. It hadn’t even been for yourself, it was for him. Your eyes followed him as you picked a table not too far from the stage. Just the perfect view to catch you prancing around like a doe.
Song after song played as he still cradled his amber colored drink. Watching you dance. His eyes raking over your body, every crevice and curve. Watching the way your body moved sensually. It was now 12:45 a.m. by the time you had walked off of the main stage. Collecting any and all bills that belonged to you and stuffing them in your pink fluffy duffle bag that you use strictly for your money. Once you knew your money had been safely put away, you headed out to the floor in search of the man of the hour.
However, to your disappointment he had disappeared along with his amber colored drink. Just as you headed towards the bar in hopes if the bartender had seen him anywhere, one of the managers turned you around. “Hey babydoll, there is a private dance waiting in room 1. He also paid for extra time.” “Oh okay, how long did they want?” “Guy said he wanted an hour. Paid upfront in cash too.” The disbelief that took over your face. “Phil, you know I can’t do that.” “Sorry sweetheart, but he already paid. Plus he’s new.”
The sour taste this new guy put in your mouth could just about ruin your night. You practically have to dance for this guy until you close. Of course Phil would allow you to miss your two other stage sets for this fucking dance. You couldn’t help but be a little put off by this guy that you never even met. Who can pay for a full hour dance in cash upfront? As you approached the first door to the private rooms, you took a deep breath in to prepare yourself for the long hour you were about to endure.
There had been a switch next to the handle. It lets dancers know which room is in use and it allows the customer inside to know that you are about to come in. It works because it is too loud to hear any knocking. Your perfect manicured finger flipped the switch on and you put on your most innocent face. Slowly opening the door and slipping inside you made sure to close the door firmly to make sure the new guy could see and hear that you were ready.
You had your back to the guy, mainly so you could give yourself as much time to mentally prepare yourself. But as soon as you turned around, the most audible gasp escaped your lips. It was Eddie. He was standing there in all of his glory. Except now he had ditched the Hellfire shirt for a plain navy blue button up. Still adorning those white Reeboks. His hair was still curly and long and tamed this time. His tattoos are more prominent than ever. Especially his chest. However, his rings caught your attention. They still looked heavy on his hand as it draped over his thigh that was spreading wide open. He looked like sex on that chair.
Your mouth was wide open but no words dared to come out. This made his lips turn up into a giant smile and chuckle at your current state. “Hi babydoll, or can I call you Y/N?” You must have looked stupid. Standing there in 7 inch holographic heels. A pink metallic string bikini adorned your tits and barely covered your ass. Your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water. All you could mutter was a quiet, “Eddie.” “That’s my name sweetheart.”
Then it dawned on you, he wanted an hour’s worth of a dance. “Why are you here?” He mockingly put a hand over his heart like it had genuinely hurt his feelings. “I can’t come in and see the best dancer in all of Hawkins?” You shook your head and rephrased your question. “No I mean why are you getting a dance from me?” “Again Y/N, I wanted to see the best dancer in Hawkins.” This time he stood from the chair and you were practically at his height. No mistake, he towered over you without your heels.
“Are you sure that’s the real reason why you’re here?” He dryly laughed at your question. “I had known for a while that you worked down here. So what I saved a bit to come and get some one on one time with the “Panther’s very own girl next door, Babydoll.”’ This confession made something stir in your lower stomach. “Don’t play with me Munson.” “But that would be nice to do.” That smirk never left his face. “You always did intrigue me Y/N.” He had now been circling you, like a hungry shark. “You were a ‘freak’ like me. Quite the opposite of being a ‘girl next door’. But I can see why they like your little innocent act you put on.” You could feel his stare even when he stopped behind you.
His voice was sending you into a trance. “I always appreciated you for helping me out in class. That reflected when you would come buy from me. But you and I know both why I let you walk away with more than what you were buying.” You shook your head in fear your voice would give you away. Slowly brushing past you, he finally made his way in front of you. “Tsk, tsk sweetheart. I know you’re smarter than that.”
“What if I’m not?” This intrigued him to continue. “Then come show me how dumb you are. Maybe I can teach you a few lessons.” He finally went to sit back down in the black cushioned chair that was set up in the middle of the room. It was a very spacious chair with plenty of room to fit two people in it. His finger lightly petted his thigh, practically making your mouth water. You stood still in the place you found yourself about two minutes ago. “I guess I should get started on your dance then, wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
It was almost in sync, the way you dropped to your knees and through the small enclosed room, Panama by Van Halen eased its way into both of your ears. You could see Eddie shift in his seat. The sight of you on your knees, crawling toward him like some puppy. Your ass was sticking out in the air, practically swaying back and forth as you worked your way to the chair. You internally thanked him for always manspreading because it gave you more access.
Your hands slowly slid up his legs and firmly grasped onto his thighs. Your hands were on top of his. You used this as leverage to stand up but to bend over in his face. His eyes darted from yours, to your lips, then finally to your tits that were spilling out of your sparkly pink bikini top. It didn’t help that your nipples were hard and he wished he could just reach out and suck them into his mouth. He could see your lips were moving but he didn’t hear the words that came out. “What’s the matter Eddie,” you pouted, “cat got your tongue?” You giggled and turned around switching hands to balance yourself on the arms of the chair.
You bent forward, folding in half. Your arms graced down your legs holding onto the back of your calves. He had the perfect view of your ass that was barely covered by the sorry excuse you called ‘bottoms’. He knew he could reach out and just grope you to his heart’s content, but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t believe that Eddie wanted you. Well at the very least, wanted a dance from you.
You spread your legs and grazed your thighs with your fingers and pulled at them. You could hear a low groan come from the older guy from behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that etched itself on your face. The thing about big heels was being able to work more on the balls of your feet. You spun around to face his front and could see the strained erection that had been growing by the second in his tight black jeans.
His eyes followed your every body roll and arch. Teasing was the purpose of your job and teasing was what you would do to this man. Pushing yourself back and onto the floor, you found yourself in the position you first started in. You put your left hand behind you to support yourself, while you sucked on your right thumb. A ‘pop’ rang through the room as it flowed through Eddie’s ears like music. You drug your fingertips down your neck and in between the valley of your breasts. His stare lingered lower to your navel and your clothed cunt.
Your hair flipped as you rolled away and farther from him to play with yourself. You gripped your tits as your back arched from the black tiles. His groans and growls were enough to convince you to give him some attention. He was clearly aching and you wanted to help him. You climbed into his lap and made yourself right at home on his lap. There was a change in his eyes. It was dark. It was lust. His hands gripped your hips tight as you ground your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace.
“So what does a man like you do to have enough cash for an hour dance with Hawkins babydoll?” Your fake lashes bat at him and you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout that showed the small golden flakes in your pink lip gloss. His hands were rough and you could feel the calluses on each of his fingers. “Well, I played guitar for a while, but those calluses you feel are from all the cars I work on sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide and all you could was grind down harder at this new information.
“You like sweetheart? Like that I work a real man’s job. That I earn money so I can come here and see your pretty body dance for me?” This man knew exactly how to make you feel like putty in his hands. You could feel his erection as you were grinding over him and it took everything in you to not whimper at the friction that you were feeling on your clit. But he wasn’t wrong and that was what made you wet. He could read you easily.
Your hands made their purchase in your hair as you swivel your hips on him and bounce. His hands were working their way from your hips to right under your breasts. He couldn’t take it anymore. You were in his lap, practically naked, just begging.
He worked his way to your back where the strings of your top were resting. In one fell motion, your top had fallen down. “Eddie!” “I’m sorry doll, I couldn’t help myself. You’re fucking grinding that cunt on my cock and you look fuckin’ incredible.” “You could have asked,” was all you could reply with. “Don’t tell me that.” His hand reached up to your left tit and squeezed hard. Finally you made your first sound of the night. “That’s it baby, mewl for me. Pur for me like a good kitten.” Out of nowhere you felt his harsh smack to your other tit. A whine filled his ears and this only caused him to do it again.
“You dirty girl, you like it when I slap those tits of yours.” All you could do was nod and gasp as his hot breath caused your nipple to harden even more. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud as you arched your back into him. Your body was begging him for more. He obliged and engulfed your nipple into his mouth. He sucked and pulled it his teeth causing you to moan and buck your hips into his. “Eddie–please.” Nothing was said except that slap that was given to your ass. “You’ll take what I give you, right baby? Because you’re good and good girls wait.”
You nodded and sighed as he switched to the other nipple and rolled the left one in between his fingers. Your hands shakily lowered as you undid the sides of your bottoms and threw them across the room. Here you were in Eddie Munson’s lap, naked and grinding down on his cock like a cat in heat. “Look at you all needy and ready for me, yea?” “Yes Eddie!” His hand wrapped your throat as he sat back to watch you. “Look at you, come one show me how bad you want it.”
You pouted at him but picked up the pace as you rocked back and forth in his lap. The direct contact of the denim and your bare clit made you gasp and whine.
Hisses came from his throat the more your soaking cunt swept over his hard cock. “Just like that Y/N, feel good on me.” “Fuck me Eddie. Please, I need you.” He shushed you and his left hand made its way to your hips to stop you. “Get up,” he commanded. You did as you were told and rubbed your thighs together to generate some sort of friction. He was making work on his jeans. Your eyes were glued on his hands as they slid his zipper down and you couldn’t help but note the mess you made on the dark denim. “Would you look at that? You made quite the mess on my jeans.”
He slid them down along with his boxers. They sat at the mid of his thigh. Your lips parted in sight of his throbbing cock. It bobbed up and hit his stomach. The tip was an angry red and a prominent vein that traveled down all the way to where his balls hung heavy. Little balck curls adorned his base. Well trimmed but still enough to turn you on. There were a few times in the past you caught sight of his happy trail but nothing like this.
His head was already leaking precum and what you wouldn’t give to taste him. But right here and now in this moment you were too needy. You need his cock in you and to fuck you like you were his. You wasted no time in slotting yourself back onto his lap. You took your right hand and ran your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on your fingers. Pumping his cock in your hand, you made sure to get him nice and wet to take all of you.
“Jesus H. Christ Y/N.” His eyes remained on your hand pumping his cock that was covered in your slick. You leaned in close to his ear, raising your hips right above his tip. “Is this okay with you,” you asked as you licked his earlobe and sank down on him at the same time. A loud ‘yes’ was your answer as you took all of him. You felt so full and so fucking good. The way his cock felt in you, felt like it could have been in your stomach.
“Feel that Eddie? Feel you so deep in me, feel so fucking good.” Your words were coming out in slurs as you slowly raised your hips and brought them back down, feeling every vein and curve. It was as if you were made to take him, all of him. The way his hard cock rubbed against your spongy walls and he was able to hit that spot deep within you. You continued to fuck him slowly as your clit rubbed against the base of his shaft.
He had both of his hands on the side of your torso to guide you up and down on him with ease. The pain of his fingers translated into pleasure as you kept going. Taking a break from riding him you rocked back and forth in his lap. Grinding like before but this time he felt every move of your hips. “Yea baby, work those fuckin’ hips just like the little slut you are.” “M’not a slut,” you huffed out. “No? If you’re not a slut, then why are you fucking me like one? Fucking one of your customers?” You shook your head and continued to grind on his cock. “Hey look at me when I’m talking to you,” he grabbed your face, causing your lips to form into a pout. “I said I'm not a slut.”
He wasn’t having any of it and his hands immediately went down to your ass. You took your hips and raised them as he started fucking up into you. The force and the angle at which he was fucking up caused you to scream out. His balls were slapping up into your ass causing the sound of skin slapping to mix in with the music and your moans. “You’re not a slut huh, guess I need to fuck you like one then.” He was driving up into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot that made your legs go weak.
Your hands made purchase on his shoulders as you tried to meet his thrusts. “See you say your not a slut, yet try to fuck me back.” Whines and moans were escaping your lips as you bounced up and down on his shaft. “Feels s’good Eddie.” “I know it does.” Your right hand slipped in between the both of you and started to rub tight circles on your clit.
He noticed and started fucking up into you harder to get you there. “C’mon baby, I want you to cum. Cum all over this cock.” His voice, smooth as velvet. His hands were rough. His cock was fucking you so good. It was all becoming too much and you couldn’t hang on anymore. “I know you can do it Y/N, give me your cum.” His voice pleading you sent you over the edge as your orgasm came crashing over you. “Fuck Eddie!” Hot tears spilled down your face and mixed with your glitter.
You could tell he was close in the way his pace was starting to become erratic. He took you and slammed you down onto his cock as his cum shot up into you. “That’s it, take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” Causing you to gasp at how much he was coming. He kept you there tight until his load was completely emptied in you.
Neither of you dared to move from your position as the both of you panted and tried to catch your breaths. “I think that was an hour’s worth of a private dance.” You looked up and searched his eyes. It was the same old Eddie that had to make you laugh. You chuckled and leaned your forehead against his. “You’re kinda sweaty.” “So are you,” he retorted. He checked his watch and it had already been 1:12 a.m.
“Why do you get dressed, go do whatever you need to do to clock out and you can come back to my place and smoke. You know for old time’s sake?” You smiled and nodded at the idea he proposed. “Wait!” Before he could ask you what was wrong, his lips were enclosed in yours. ‘Mmm’. You captured his top lip in your bottom lip as you leaned into him. Pulling back you looked him in the eyes, “I couldn’t help myself, I’ve been wanting to do that since senior year.” He just smiled and gave you pecks all over your face.
You tried your hardest to get off of his lap without making a complete mess of him or yourself. While he situated himself back in his jeans, you tied your suit back together as neatly as possible. Trying to make it look like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by the town freak. “Alrighty, I’m going to be right back. Collect my things, pay out the club and I’ll be out front!” He smiled at your cuteness and petted your cheek. “Sounds good Y/N, I’ll be at the bar waiting.” You turned to head out at the door and you could feel his stare on your ass, “I’ll be the short one in pink.”
All Eddie could think was that some things never change.
Hey can you do a bimbo stripper reader x eddie smut please and thank you
Hi! I got this yesterday as I was writing my newest work which is this! The reader isn’t saying a complete bimbo but there are definitely some strong bimbo qualities! I hope you enjoy!
a/n: Lord have mercy. This is just straight porn. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing! As always requests are always
a/n: Lord have mercy. This is just straight porn. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing! As always requests are always open!
Summary: Eddie finds himself at a strip club one night and sees a familiar face on stage. How could he not request a dance?
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Graphic description, rough sex, choking, swearing, being a stripper? Alcohol consumption, pet names: kitten, doll, etc. sexual tension, creampie, unprotected sex, Wrap it before you tap!
Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader stripper
Wc: 4.3k
Photo credit: N/A
Do not post my work anywhere!
Friday nights were always the busiest of your week. It was payday and everyone wanted a stress reliever for a hard week’s work. You had claimed your residency at the club a little over 7 months ago. It was pretty hard to miss the neon signs that illuminated the front of the building. A giant yellow and pink flashing neon sign etched ‘PANTHER PLAYGROUND’ with a bright pink cat that switched to a girl arching her back. On the front of the building were other neon signs in hues of blues, purples and pinks ‘Girls Girls Girls’, ‘All Nude’, ‘Live Girls’. The strip club had been located 15 minutes south of Hawkins, where you and most of the girls lived.
Plenty of graduated seniors and business men made their way there every week it seemed. Most of your shifts, much like this one, started at 10 p.m. and ended near 2 a.m. You had 5 half hour floor sets and the rest of the time was spent in the private rooms where regulars, out of towners or newbies wanted a one on one dance. While you might have been fairly new to the playground, you were the hottest ticket in town.
You had graduated over a year ago and had been the youngest girl there at a whooping nineteen. That drove everyone up the wall. It earned you the nickname ‘Babydoll’. You played on this by wearing bright and playful colors. Your signature was pink. Baby pink lipgloss, lingerie, heels, makeup, and pink glitter. The more innocent you looked the more bills you collected at the end of the night. Frills, lace, shimmer, you name it.
It had already been 12:15 a.m. and it was time for your third set of the night, except now you were on the main stage. The reflective tiles littered across were in the shape of a giant ‘T’. It seemed like a catwalk with the pole right in the middle of the stage’s junction. That was your favorite place to dance. You could easily get lost as the spotlight followed you down the aisle. Your friends often asked if you still had stage fright but it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t wait to strut out onto the stage and captivate the lively bodies in the room.
The club’s walls were bouncing from the bass and reverberation of each of the songs that played one after another. Each girl had a mix that played when they were on the main stage. Through all of the glitter and innocence, your mix consisted of rock and metal. The juxtaposition alone made the room go wild. Scanning the crowd, you knew tonight was going to be a good one. Weekends in the summer always were. “Next up, you know her, you love her. She's the Panther's girl next door. Give it up for…Babydoll!” The DJ’s voice mixed with the cheers and whistles that echoed in your ears.
You pranced up the stairs and smiled and waved at some of the familiar faces you spotted in the crowd. Twirling to get some of the tables more loud and playing with your hair that was curled and teased up. Before you planted yourself on the pole, you turned to a random table of guys you're recognized from a few years ago at Hawkins High. It was your way to start a set by blowing a glossed kiss at a new table every night.
You raised your right hand above your head and gripped the pole tight. Squeezing your thighs and arching your back so your ass was clearly pushed against the cold steel. That’s when ‘Girls Girls Girls’ by Motley Crue blasted throughout the club. Mixtures of 1’s. 5’s, and 20’s were starting to get thrown at you. Intricately swinging and grinding on the pole. Running your hands up and down your body. Bending over and arching to place yourself in positions that leave little to the imagination.
Right as you worked your way to the chorus you decided to pay the folks at the end of the catwalk some attention. Crawling on all fours, sensually, you heard praises and clapping from either side of you. But that was drowned out. Everything was drowned out as you looked up right at the front doors. The doors had opened to reveal someone who would have never expected to waltz right in.
Back in your senior year, you had shared a few classes with him. He failed almost all of them. Not because he wasn’t smart but because he struggled but no one gave a shit. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. The reason you two got along was maybe for your love of metal and rock or the fact that you actually helped him in class or the few times you bought a quarter off of him occasionally. He always called you a freak but you liked it. Liked that if you two shared things in common then you would gladly wear the name on your sleeves.
The odd thing was you had never seen him in here before, so now you were intrigued as to why he had been here. But as Vince Neil’s voice reverberated off of the walls, his eyes seemed to catch yours and a wave of shock ran through his eyes but a prominent smirk was etched on his face. This translated into a newfound confidence for you. This dance isn't for everyone anymore. It hadn’t even been for yourself, it was for him. Your eyes followed him as you picked a table not too far from the stage. Just the perfect view to catch you prancing around like a doe.
Song after song played as he still cradled his amber colored drink. Watching you dance. His eyes raking over your body, every crevice and curve. Watching the way your body moved sensually. It was now 12:45 a.m. by the time you had walked off of the main stage. Collecting any and all bills that belonged to you and stuffing them in your pink fluffy duffle bag that you use strictly for your money. Once you knew your money had been safely put away, you headed out to the floor in search of the man of the hour.
However, to your disappointment he had disappeared along with his amber colored drink. Just as you headed towards the bar in hopes if the bartender had seen him anywhere, one of the managers turned you around. “Hey babydoll, there is a private dance waiting in room 1. He also paid for extra time.” “Oh okay, how long did they want?” “Guy said he wanted an hour. Paid upfront in cash too.” The disbelief that took over your face. “Phil, you know I can’t do that.” “Sorry sweetheart, but he already paid. Plus he’s new.”
The sour taste this new guy put in your mouth could just about ruin your night. You practically have to dance for this guy until you close. Of course Phil would allow you to miss your two other stage sets for this fucking dance. You couldn’t help but be a little put off by this guy that you never even met. Who can pay for a full hour dance in cash upfront? As you approached the first door to the private rooms, you took a deep breath in to prepare yourself for the long hour you were about to endure.
There had been a switch next to the handle. It lets dancers know which room is in use and it allows the customer inside to know that you are about to come in. It works because it is too loud to hear any knocking. Your perfect manicured finger flipped the switch on and you put on your most innocent face. Slowly opening the door and slipping inside you made sure to close the door firmly to make sure the new guy could see and hear that you were ready.
You had your back to the guy, mainly so you could give yourself as much time to mentally prepare yourself. But as soon as you turned around, the most audible gasp escaped your lips. It was Eddie. He was standing there in all of his glory. Except now he had ditched the Hellfire shirt for a plain navy blue button up. Still adorning those white Reeboks. His hair was still curly and long and tamed this time. His tattoos are more prominent than ever. Especially his chest. However, his rings caught your attention. They still looked heavy on his hand as it draped over his thigh that was spreading wide open. He looked like sex on that chair.
Your mouth was wide open but no words dared to come out. This made his lips turn up into a giant smile and chuckle at your current state. “Hi babydoll, or can I call you Y/N?” You must have looked stupid. Standing there in 7 inch holographic heels. A pink metallic string bikini adorned your tits and barely covered your ass. Your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water. All you could mutter was a quiet, “Eddie.” “That’s my name sweetheart.”
Then it dawned on you, he wanted an hour’s worth of a dance. “Why are you here?” He mockingly put a hand over his heart like it had genuinely hurt his feelings. “I can’t come in and see the best dancer in all of Hawkins?” You shook your head and rephrased your question. “No I mean why are you getting a dance from me?” “Again Y/N, I wanted to see the best dancer in Hawkins.” This time he stood from the chair and you were practically at his height. No mistake, he towered over you without your heels.
“Are you sure that’s the real reason why you’re here?” He dryly laughed at your question. “I had known for a while that you worked down here. So what I saved a bit to come and get some one on one time with the “Panther’s very own girl next door, Babydoll.”’ This confession made something stir in your lower stomach. “Don’t play with me Munson.” “But that would be nice to do.” That smirk never left his face. “You always did intrigue me Y/N.” He had now been circling you, like a hungry shark. “You were a ‘freak’ like me. Quite the opposite of being a ‘girl next door’. But I can see why they like your little innocent act you put on.” You could feel his stare even when he stopped behind you.
His voice was sending you into a trance. “I always appreciated you for helping me out in class. That reflected when you would come buy from me. But you and I know both why I let you walk away with more than what you were buying.” You shook your head in fear your voice would give you away. Slowly brushing past you, he finally made his way in front of you. “Tsk, tsk sweetheart. I know you’re smarter than that.”
“What if I’m not?” This intrigued him to continue. “Then come show me how dumb you are. Maybe I can teach you a few lessons.” He finally went to sit back down in the black cushioned chair that was set up in the middle of the room. It was a very spacious chair with plenty of room to fit two people in it. His finger lightly petted his thigh, practically making your mouth water. You stood still in the place you found yourself about two minutes ago. “I guess I should get started on your dance then, wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
It was almost in sync, the way you dropped to your knees and through the small enclosed room, Panama by Van Halen eased its way into both of your ears. You could see Eddie shift in his seat. The sight of you on your knees, crawling toward him like some puppy. Your ass was sticking out in the air, practically swaying back and forth as you worked your way to the chair. You internally thanked him for always manspreading because it gave you more access.
Your hands slowly slid up his legs and firmly grasped onto his thighs. Your hands were on top of his. You used this as leverage to stand up but to bend over in his face. His eyes darted from yours, to your lips, then finally to your tits that were spilling out of your sparkly pink bikini top. It didn’t help that your nipples were hard and he wished he could just reach out and suck them into his mouth. He could see your lips were moving but he didn’t hear the words that came out. “What’s the matter Eddie,” you pouted, “cat got your tongue?” You giggled and turned around switching hands to balance yourself on the arms of the chair.
You bent forward, folding in half. Your arms graced down your legs holding onto the back of your calves. He had the perfect view of your ass that was barely covered by the sorry excuse you called ‘bottoms’. He knew he could reach out and just grope you to his heart’s content, but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t believe that Eddie wanted you. Well at the very least, wanted a dance from you.
You spread your legs and grazed your thighs with your fingers and pulled at them. You could hear a low groan come from the older guy from behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that etched itself on your face. The thing about big heels was being able to work more on the balls of your feet. You spun around to face his front and could see the strained erection that had been growing by the second in his tight black jeans.
His eyes followed your every body roll and arch. Teasing was the purpose of your job and teasing was what you would do to this man. Pushing yourself back and onto the floor, you found yourself in the position you first started in. You put your left hand behind you to support yourself, while you sucked on your right thumb. A ‘pop’ rang through the room as it flowed through Eddie’s ears like music. You drug your fingertips down your neck and in between the valley of your breasts. His stare lingered lower to your navel and your clothed cunt.
Your hair flipped as you rolled away and farther from him to play with yourself. You gripped your tits as your back arched from the black tiles. His groans and growls were enough to convince you to give him some attention. He was clearly aching and you wanted to help him. You climbed into his lap and made yourself right at home on his lap. There was a change in his eyes. It was dark. It was lust. His hands gripped your hips tight as you ground your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace.
“So what does a man like you do to have enough cash for an hour dance with Hawkins babydoll?” Your fake lashes bat at him and you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout that showed the small golden flakes in your pink lip gloss. His hands were rough and you could feel the calluses on each of his fingers. “Well, I played guitar for a while, but those calluses you feel are from all the cars I work on sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide and all you could was grind down harder at this new information.
“You like sweetheart? Like that I work a real man’s job. That I earn money so I can come here and see your pretty body dance for me?” This man knew exactly how to make you feel like putty in his hands. You could feel his erection as you were grinding over him and it took everything in you to not whimper at the friction that you were feeling on your clit. But he wasn’t wrong and that was what made you wet. He could read you easily.
Your hands made their purchase in your hair as you swivel your hips on him and bounce. His hands were working their way from your hips to right under your breasts. He couldn’t take it anymore. You were in his lap, practically naked, just begging.
He worked his way to your back where the strings of your top were resting. In one fell motion, your top had fallen down. “Eddie!” “I’m sorry doll, I couldn’t help myself. You’re fucking grinding that cunt on my cock and you look fuckin’ incredible.” “You could have asked,” was all you could reply with. “Don’t tell me that.” His hand reached up to your left tit and squeezed hard. Finally you made your first sound of the night. “That’s it baby, mewl for me. Pur for me like a good kitten.” Out of nowhere you felt his harsh smack to your other tit. A whine filled his ears and this only caused him to do it again.
“You dirty girl, you like it when I slap those tits of yours.” All you could do was nod and gasp as his hot breath caused your nipple to harden even more. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud as you arched your back into him. Your body was begging him for more. He obliged and engulfed your nipple into his mouth. He sucked and pulled it his teeth causing you to moan and buck your hips into his. “Eddie–please.” Nothing was said except that slap that was given to your ass. “You’ll take what I give you, right baby? Because you’re good and good girls wait.”
You nodded and sighed as he switched to the other nipple and rolled the left one in between his fingers. Your hands shakily lowered as you undid the sides of your bottoms and threw them across the room. Here you were in Eddie Munson’s lap, naked and grinding down on his cock like a cat in heat. “Look at you all needy and ready for me, yea?” “Yes Eddie!” His hand wrapped your throat as he sat back to watch you. “Look at you, come one show me how bad you want it.”
You pouted at him but picked up the pace as you rocked back and forth in his lap. The direct contact of the denim and your bare clit made you gasp and whine.
Hisses came from his throat the more your soaking cunt swept over his hard cock. “Just like that Y/N, feel good on me.” “Fuck me Eddie. Please, I need you.” He shushed you and his left hand made its way to your hips to stop you. “Get up,” he commanded. You did as you were told and rubbed your thighs together to generate some sort of friction. He was making work on his jeans. Your eyes were glued on his hands as they slid his zipper down and you couldn’t help but note the mess you made on the dark denim. “Would you look at that? You made quite the mess on my jeans.”
He slid them down along with his boxers. They sat at the mid of his thigh. Your lips parted in sight of his throbbing cock. It bobbed up and hit his stomach. The tip was an angry red and a prominent vein that traveled down all the way to where his balls hung heavy. Little balck curls adorned his base. Well trimmed but still enough to turn you on. There were a few times in the past you caught sight of his happy trail but nothing like this.
His head was already leaking precum and what you wouldn’t give to taste him. But right here and now in this moment you were too needy. You need his cock in you and to fuck you like you were his. You wasted no time in slotting yourself back onto his lap. You took your right hand and ran your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on your fingers. Pumping his cock in your hand, you made sure to get him nice and wet to take all of you.
“Jesus H. Christ Y/N.” His eyes remained on your hand pumping his cock that was covered in your slick. You leaned in close to his ear, raising your hips right above his tip. “Is this okay with you,” you asked as you licked his earlobe and sank down on him at the same time. A loud ‘yes’ was your answer as you took all of him. You felt so full and so fucking good. The way his cock felt in you, felt like it could have been in your stomach.
“Feel that Eddie? Feel you so deep in me, feel so fucking good.” Your words were coming out in slurs as you slowly raised your hips and brought them back down, feeling every vein and curve. It was as if you were made to take him, all of him. The way his hard cock rubbed against your spongy walls and he was able to hit that spot deep within you. You continued to fuck him slowly as your clit rubbed against the base of his shaft.
He had both of his hands on the side of your torso to guide you up and down on him with ease. The pain of his fingers translated into pleasure as you kept going. Taking a break from riding him you rocked back and forth in his lap. Grinding like before but this time he felt every move of your hips. “Yea baby, work those fuckin’ hips just like the little slut you are.” “M’not a slut,” you huffed out. “No? If you’re not a slut, then why are you fucking me like one? Fucking one of your customers?” You shook your head and continued to grind on his cock. “Hey look at me when I’m talking to you,” he grabbed your face, causing your lips to form into a pout. “I said I'm not a slut.”
He wasn’t having any of it and his hands immediately went down to your ass. You took your hips and raised them as he started fucking up into you. The force and the angle at which he was fucking up caused you to scream out. His balls were slapping up into your ass causing the sound of skin slapping to mix in with the music and your moans. “You’re not a slut huh, guess I need to fuck you like one then.” He was driving up into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot that made your legs go weak.
Your hands made purchase on his shoulders as you tried to meet his thrusts. “See you say your not a slut, yet try to fuck me back.” Whines and moans were escaping your lips as you bounced up and down on his shaft. “Feels s’good Eddie.” “I know it does.” Your right hand slipped in between the both of you and started to rub tight circles on your clit.
He noticed and started fucking up into you harder to get you there. “C’mon baby, I want you to cum. Cum all over this cock.” His voice, smooth as velvet. His hands were rough. His cock was fucking you so good. It was all becoming too much and you couldn’t hang on anymore. “I know you can do it Y/N, give me your cum.” His voice pleading you sent you over the edge as your orgasm came crashing over you. “Fuck Eddie!” Hot tears spilled down your face and mixed with your glitter.
You could tell he was close in the way his pace was starting to become erratic. He took you and slammed you down onto his cock as his cum shot up into you. “That’s it, take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” Causing you to gasp at how much he was coming. He kept you there tight until his load was completely emptied in you.
Neither of you dared to move from your position as the both of you panted and tried to catch your breaths. “I think that was an hour’s worth of a private dance.” You looked up and searched his eyes. It was the same old Eddie that had to make you laugh. You chuckled and leaned your forehead against his. “You’re kinda sweaty.” “So are you,” he retorted. He checked his watch and it had already been 1:12 a.m.
“Why do you get dressed, go do whatever you need to do to clock out and you can come back to my place and smoke. You know for old time’s sake?” You smiled and nodded at the idea he proposed. “Wait!” Before he could ask you what was wrong, his lips were enclosed in yours. ‘Mmm’. You captured his top lip in your bottom lip as you leaned into him. Pulling back you looked him in the eyes, “I couldn’t help myself, I’ve been wanting to do that since senior year.” He just smiled and gave you pecks all over your face.
You tried your hardest to get off of his lap without making a complete mess of him or yourself. While he situated himself back in his jeans, you tied your suit back together as neatly as possible. Trying to make it look like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by the town freak. “Alrighty, I’m going to be right back. Collect my things, pay out the club and I’ll be out front!” He smiled at your cuteness and petted your cheek. “Sounds good Y/N, I’ll be at the bar waiting.” You turned to head out at the door and you could feel his stare on your ass, “I’ll be the short one in pink.”
All Eddie could think was that some things never change.
a/n: THIS CAME TO ME ONE LATE NIGHT AFTER ONE TOO MANY BOWLS. Just pure filth, but enjoy at your disposal.
Warnings: Pure porn. Use of sex toys, heavy mention of drugs, swearing, oral (m! receiving), fem!reader, slightly dom!reader, mention of creampie if you squint, pet names, I think that’s it?? MDNI–18+ ONLY!
wc: 3.5k
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader best friend
Requests are open!
DO NOT PUBLISH MY WORK ANYWHERE
photo credit: N/A
You weren’t exactly looking for your best friend’s sex toy. Honest to God. Eddie had sent you on a mission to get your favorite bowl to smoke out of for the next session the curly haired boy started. It had been a blistering summer day in the middle of July. Peak heat was burning down on your sweat coated skin and neither of you could take the abuse of the rays any longer.
You had haphazardly thrown on some band shirt that Eddie had laying on the ground. An old Iron Maiden shirt that was starting to get holes in the collar and sleeves. You praised Eddie for always buying oversized shirts so he could share them with you, something he had picked up on early in your friendship.
It fell just a bit below where your ass and thighs connect. It had covered the black bikini bottoms that had been completely dry from sitting out in the Indiana heat. “Jesus Eddie, have you ever heard of a bookshelf? Or some sort of organization?” You rolled your eyes as you hung up his beloved denim vest on a hanger in his closet as you could hear him mumble some half-ass remark. No wonder Eddie lost everything, he never put anything away. You recalled the multitude of times that you had practically begged him to let you clean his room. His defense was that creative people had messy rooms and if anything had changed you would be “damaging” his creative genius.
Socks, shirts, and boxers had littered the floor and chair in his room. You were surprised he hadn’t discovered a new fungi species in this abyss. He was careless with his smoking equipment so you had figured it would be on the floor. Dropping to be on your hands and knees, you began rummaging under the bed that had been all too familiar. Textbooks from sophomore biology and barely worn pants were scattered all over. Shoving things to the side as it had been too dark to see under, your hand collided with something that you couldn’t make out. The base felt cylindrical and got wider at the top with some sort of spongy dome on the top.
Your arm retracted with the unknown object in your right arm until it saw the light of day. Your eyes went wide and your left hand smacked over your mouth hoping your gasp wasn’t loud enough for the boy in the next room to hear. You weren’t meant to see this because it was under his bed but your curiosity got the better of you anyway. It had been such a shock to discover your best friend’s personal pocket pussy. The thought of him actually having used it made something in your lower stomach burn.
You inspected the pick silicon toy with a decent anatomy on top. The flesh tone and outline of the clit and labia made your mind race with different situations in which Eddie would use it. You couldn’t help but take your finger and run the tip of it around the artificial slit. It felt clean and smelt of antibacterial soap. At least it was a bit comforting to know he properly washed this thing. ‘How long has he had this?’ ‘Where did he get it?’ ‘How often does he use this?’ All these questions were flooding into your brain with each second that passed.
It must have been why didn’t hear the creaking of his door opening. “Y/N–what are you doing?” You let out a small scream as you tried hiding the toy as if it were your secret and not his. “Eds I I didn’t mean to find it, I swear. My hand just grazed this thing and I grabbed it and pulled it out and if I had any idea of what it was I would never have pulled it out. You know it’s normal for guys to have things like this–”. “Y/N please stop talking.” He couldn’t move from his place in the doorway. Partially from being embarrassed that you had found his little toy but also from you being on your knees with his shirt riding up on your hips, revealing your thighs that had been sticking together all day due to the cruel heat.
Your eyes scanned over his body. His cheeks were turning bright red and you could make out the slight tips of his ears burning with embarrassment as well. His chest became flushed, which made for a fun juxtaposition with the black ink on his chest. It was a rare occasion that you had ever seen Eddie shirtless, but was it a pleasure. Traveling further south, small black hairs were scattered under his gray sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips. Your eyes averted their attention back to his face as you had this dumbfounded look on your face.
Still holding the fleshlight in your hands you brought it to your front and stood up so you had finally been at some sort of eye level with him. His eyes darted down to the sight of your small hands gripping the toy he often used after you would visit, which had been an often occurrence. “Eddie–” “Y/N–”. The two of you are rambling at the same time. He stopped talking and motioned for you to explain how you got yourself into this sticky situation. “Honest to God Eddie, this was a mistake. I never knew you even owned one a-and I am just so sorry.” Your small and delicate hands were squeezing the flesh silicon, in fear he wouldn’t notice how flustered you had been.
His eyes softened at your nerves and he chuckled through his own embarrassment that he had been struggling with. “Darling it’s okay. I am not mad at you and clearly I should have hid it away better. I know you weren’t looking for it.” He gently took baby steps to you as he noticed you were still tensing up. His hands met yours as he slowly pried it from your slightly shaky hands. In his left hand, he held the toy and in the right he was guiding you to sit down. Your back felt like it had been in flames with his hand on the mid of your back. It felt heavy with the extra weight of his bulky rings.
“Y/N, there is really no need to be upset over this. Trust me.” His hand was going up and down trying to sooth your nerves. You just groaned into your hands as you hunched over, shielding yourself from your best friend. “I know it’s just an intimate item and clearly your best friend isn’t supposed to see it. I mean it would be like you finding my vibra–”. You barely finished the sentence before you felt his hand stall. Sitting as stiff as a board you look to your left to see a wide eyed look and a shit eating grin slapped on the curly haired boy. “Oh so you have your own selection of toys I see?” “No! Ignore that comment.”
He started laughing as you stood up and snatched the fake pussy from his hands. “C’mon Y/n, you know I am just messing with you. Masturbation is completely normal and healthy and–”. “Stop it Eddie. You sound just like my mother Jesus.” He could see you examining the fleshlight in your hand as you inspected the curves and grooves that were supposed to be the lips and clit. “Stick your fingers inside.” Your head shot straight up to meet his eyes in disbelief. “That’s gross. You’ve stuck your dick in this. I am not doing that. Plus you must forget I know what a vagina feels like. I don’t need to feel a fake one.” He snorted out a laugh at your blatant disgust as you still kept looking at it.
It was a standard one that you could get from any sex shop. A black plastic cylindrical holder with the silicone toy stuffed inside for maximum pleasure. “Yet you still seem to be intrigued by it even if my dick has been inside it.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky comment, but your cheeks betrayed in revealing the blush that it sent to your face. “I dunno. I’ve heard of them before. I just have never seen one, let alone held one.” You were going to ask your next question but hesitated. He could sense this and leaned back on his elbows looking at you. “Go ahead, ask whatever you want.”
You took a deep breath and swallowed your nerves. “What does it feel like when you use it?” His left eyebrow sort of shot up, not in disbelief or shock but just surprised that you had the balls to say it out loud. “Well, it does its job at feeling like a pussy sometimes. I use lube and obviously it feels very wet. The silicone part is pushed in there pretty tight so it feels very snug when I use it.” You slightly nodded, not sure of what answer you had been expecting. Your next question came out in a bit of a croak. “Does it feel good?” His laugh echoed through the room as he held his stomach. It was kind of cute how innocent you looked. Your eyes darted from him to the toy. “Yes–it does feel good. But it isn’t the real thing, ya know?”
You mentally scolded yourself as you were sure it felt good to him. “Do you use it a lot?” You wanted to sew your mouth shut so you could stop from the self-inflicted torture. “You are curious today dalin’. Uh, yea. To answer your question, I do use it pretty often.” The two of you sat in silence. You couldn’t help it. You wanted more answers but dare not ask the questions. That’s why Eddie was so good. He could practically hear the question in his head as he was spilling out an answer. “Y/n, to answer a question I know you have. I may use it a lot. I use it just about every time you come over to visit. Obviously I don’t use it when you’re here or when you spend the night but yea…”
You couldn’t bear to look him in his eyes. It felt like your heart could leap out of your chest at any given moment. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Eddie scoot down to the foot of the bed. He pulled your legs closer to him, making you shuffle your feet in between his legs. It always drove you crazy when he would manspread. His hands glided over yours. “Hey I’m sorry if that was too much. I don’t want to scare you off or anything. I just wanted to be open with you.” You shook your head and chuckled a bit. “I’m not upset. Just a little surprised.” “What, you don’t think I don’t see how you look at me darlin’?” You turned your head to the right so you couldn’t make eye contact. “I had hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Too late now. I guess the pussy is out of the bag.” You couldn’t help but laugh which had you looking him in the eyes as he was clearly proud of that one. Your laughter died down and your smile dropped. “Were you–were you going to use it after I left today?” This definitely took him by surprise and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed your question. His right hand came up and scratched the back of his head as he let out an almost shameful ‘yes’.
You took in his answer and immediately followed up with another question. This time all bets were off the table. “Can I use it on you?” he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “What?” “I said–.” “No, I heard what you said.” “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just figured I would save you the time later by doing it for you.” For some reason, those words went straight to his cock. He thought it was incredibly hot that you were being this bold. “Do you want to do this angel?” “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t.” He chuckled at your sassy reply. There was his girl.
“I mean if you really want to, be my guest.” This was all you needed as you sank to your knees, maintaining eye contact. You made yourself extremely close to him as you set down the toy to his left thigh. Your hands creeped their way up to his low waist band. You could see his stomach contract and his muscles tensing as your fingers skimmed the fabric over his pelvic bone. “Don’t be a tease baby.” This led you to pay more attention to the very obvious tent that had been growing in his sweats. “So big,” you mumbled more to yourself. You had always heard the rumors but now you had your own confirmation.
“It’s all your baby. All for you.” He knew what to say and it immediately went down to your soaked bikini bottoms. Taking no time, your hands pulled down his sweats to the middle of his thighs, allowing his erection to spring up. It bobbed slightly against his stomach as he was still holding himself up. It curved slightly upward and there had been a prominent vein that ran on the underside of the shaft. It led right up to the cut red tip. Smaller dark curls littered the bottom yet they looked trimmed. The sight alone made you go feral. Admiring it like it had been a sculpture in an art museum. “Touch it sweetheart.” His words snapped you out of your daze.
Your left hand reached out to gently hold it in your hand. It was slightly heavy and had a velvet sort of touch to it. You gently squeezed his cock in your hand and he slightly hissed through his teeth. Just then a dribble of precum emerged from his slit. Without thinking your tongue captured the slightly salty mixture. He gasped at the feeling of your tongue as he hadn’t been expecting it. His right arm reached out to pet your hair and your tongue swirled around his tip. He scooped up as much hair as he could while being gentle with you. Your lips wrapped themselves around his head as your tongue started to trace over the vein. This caused him to grasp your hair harder causing a slight groan to be muffled. “Do you like that sweetheart? Like it when I pull your hair with your pretty lips wrapped around my fucking cock?”
Your eyes said it all. His head just pulled back as you went further down his shaft as your cheeks hollowed out. Painfully going slow to tease him. Paying extra attention to his head. You pulled up right as you could tell he had been enjoying it. A small ‘pop’ echoed in his room. Some more precum leaked out as it slightly fell down his member. “See what you do to me darlin’?” You laughed dryly as you reached for his toy, completely forgetting why you were in this position. Hovering over him, eyes locked, you spit on his cock.
That was an image he would engrain in his memory. His sweet girl on her knees spitting on his cock like a little whore. “Fuck baby.” He moaned at the sight and closed his eyes. He had been so hard, it was easy to gently push the fleshlight over the tip. He let out a loud gasp as he felt it glide over his head with ease. “That’s it baby, make me feel good.” His eyes were screwed shut as you brought the imitation pussy over the tip slowly. Barely pushing down and teasing the fuck out of him. For a few more moments you continued your pattern of just fucking his tip but wanted to see him more fucked out. That’s when you sunk it down completely on him. Bringing it to the base and bottoming out of the toy.
A long and strained moan escaped from his throat as his arm gave out from under him. He reached for the ragged quilt around him, trying to grasp onto something. It felt good to be the one controlling his pleasure. He had always been so cocky and confident and yet here you were fucking with cock with a toy. He lifted his head to make eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but smile slightly. Seeing that fucked out look in his eyes as they glossed over with lust. He looked beautiful like this. You brought it up and brought it down with force this time. He never knew that getting this toy in hopes of helping his thoughts of fucking you come true would lead to this.
Your torture on his cock quickened with your pace. “Does that feel good Eddie?” Your voice was so quiet, not too loud than a whisper. You were still trying to be innocent and it was driving him up the walls. “You have no idea how good it feels darlin’.” Your hand slightly squeezed the plastic holder as your pace quickened more. Your spit was mixing with his precum and it had been lubbing him up quickly, letting out an almost squelching sound. “I always imagine fucking your pussy when I pound it this–this thing.” He rushed out his confession as you continued your assault on his rock hard cock. You didn’t say anything as you just watched the fleshlight swallow his cock every time you pushed it down and pulled it up.
You couldn’t help but think this is what it would look like if you were riding him instead of using his own toy on him. “Y/n, sweetheart, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last. You just feel so fucking good.” That made your eyes meet his as you bit your lip and continued your fast movements of going up and down on his member. “Yeah? Are you going to cum thinking about how this could be my pussy instead Eddie?” His eyes practically rolled into the back of his skull at the sound of your question. “God yes. Please baby, make me cum in that tight pussy of yours.” His pleas were like hymns.
You knew it wouldn’t take too much to make him cum so quickly while you were still pumping his cock into his toy, your head darted down to his balls. Excitedly taking one into your mouth, you rolled it around while gently sucking on it. This caused his hips to fuck up into your hand at a distorted rhythm. “That’s it baby. That’s it.” He was so close and he didn’t want this to end, but he needed to cum. You continued to tongue at him as you kept pumping him when you felt his hips still and you could feel his cock twitch. “That’s it Eddie, cum.” His hips rutted up slightly as moans of your name fell from his lips. You could make out a slightly sheer coat of sweat on his forehead as he sat himself back up.
You didn’t take the toy off immediately. You slightly pumped his overstimulated cock to see how sensitive he got. He gasped and tried to move away. You lightly laughed as you carefully brought the toy up and off of him. His cum quickly followed and dripped all over his stomach and pelvis. It truly did look like he just came inside a pussy and that made something in your lower stomach churn. “That was fucking incredible.” He was slightly out of breath as he sat up fully. He reached over and took off the distressed Iron Maiden shirt. He used it to whip the cum off of him and the toy, as much as he could.
“Do you do that with all your shirts?” “That’s what you're concerned about right now?” “Well, I do wear them often so yes.” He couldn’t believe you and just laughed as he tucked himself back into his sweats. Tossing you an old Sabbath shirt, he made his way to the headboard, gesturing for you to join him. You crawled up to him and slotted yourself under his left arm. “I think we should do that more often, but maybe not with any sex toys,” you shyly said. “Yea? I would love to do that too.”
You both sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. You spotted something on his nightstand to the right of him. Sitting on top of an issue of Heavy Metal was the glass pipe that had gotten you into all of this. “Fuck me,” you muttered as you reached across his torse to grasp the delicate item. “Can you pack a bowl while I get some snacks?”
So I have seen some demand for a second part to "Finders Keepers, Horny Losers" and I will be getting to that and hopefully have it out in a about a week. But I have a new piece coming that I know you will all love. If you thought Eddie and a sex toy was wild, you are in for a ride ;). Anyways just wanted to keep you all updated and to thank you all for the love!
a/n: THIS CAME TO ME ONE LATE NIGHT AFTER ONE TOO MANY BOWLS. Just pure filth, but enjoy at your disposal.
Warnings: Pure porn. Use of sex toys, heavy mention of drugs, swearing, oral (m! receiving), fem!reader, slightly dom!reader, mention of creampie if you squint, pet names, I think that’s it?? MDNI–18+ ONLY!
wc: 3.5k
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader best friend
Requests are open!
DO NOT PUBLISH MY WORK ANYWHERE
photo credit: N/A
You weren’t exactly looking for your best friend’s sex toy. Honest to God. Eddie had sent you on a mission to get your favorite bowl to smoke out of for the next session the curly haired boy started. It had been a blistering summer day in the middle of July. Peak heat was burning down on your sweat coated skin and neither of you could take the abuse of the rays any longer.
You had haphazardly thrown on some band shirt that Eddie had laying on the ground. An old Iron Maiden shirt that was starting to get holes in the collar and sleeves. You praised Eddie for always buying oversized shirts so he could share them with you, something he had picked up on early in your friendship.
It fell just a bit below where your ass and thighs connect. It had covered the black bikini bottoms that had been completely dry from sitting out in the Indiana heat. “Jesus Eddie, have you ever heard of a bookshelf? Or some sort of organization?” You rolled your eyes as you hung up his beloved denim vest on a hanger in his closet as you could hear him mumble some half-ass remark. No wonder Eddie lost everything, he never put anything away. You recalled the multitude of times that you had practically begged him to let you clean his room. His defense was that creative people had messy rooms and if anything had changed you would be “damaging” his creative genius.
Socks, shirts, and boxers had littered the floor and chair in his room. You were surprised he hadn’t discovered a new fungi species in this abyss. He was careless with his smoking equipment so you had figured it would be on the floor. Drooping to be on your hands and knees, you began rummaging under the bed that had been all too familiar. Textbooks from sophomore biology and barely worn pants were scattered all over. Shoving things to the side as it had been too dark to see under, your hand collided with something that you couldn’t make out. The base felt cylindrical and got wider at the top with some sort of spongy dome on the top.
Your arm retracted with the unknown object in your right arm until it saw the light of day. Your eyes went wide and your left hand smacked over your mouth hoping your gasp wasn’t loud enough for the boy in the next room to hear. You weren’t meant to see this because it was under his bed but your curiosity got the better of you anyway. It had been such a shock to discover your best friend’s personal pocket pussy. The thought of him actually having used it made something in your lower stomach burn.
You inspected the pick silicon toy with a decent anatomy on top. The flesh tone and outline of the clit and labia made your mind race with different situations in which Eddie would use it. You couldn’t help but take your finger and run the tip of it around the artificial slit. It felt clean and smelt of antibacterial soap. At least it was a bit comforting to know he properly washed this thing. ‘How long has he had this?’ ‘Where did he get it?’ ‘How often does he use this?’ All these questions were flooding into your brain with each second that passed.
It must have been why didn’t hear the creaking of his door opening. “Y/N–what are you doing?” You let out a small scream as you tried hiding the toy as if it were your secret and not his. “Eds I I didn’t mean to find it, I swear. My hand just grazed this thing and I grabbed it and pulled it out and if I had any idea of what it was I would never have pulled it out. You know it’s normal for guys to have things like this–”. “Y/N please stop talking.” He couldn’t move from his place in the doorway. Partially from being embarrassed that you had found his little toy but also from you being on your knees with his shirt riding up on your hips, revealing your thighs that had been sticking together all day due to the cruel heat.
Your eyes scanned over his body. His cheeks were turning bright red and you could make out the slight tips of his ears burning with embarrassment as well. His chest became flushed, which made for a fun juxtaposition with the black ink on his chest. It was a rare occasion that you had ever seen Eddie shirtless, but was it a pleasure. Traveling further south, small black hairs were scattered under his gray sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips. Your eyes averted their attention back to his face as you had this dumbfounded look on your face.
Still holding the fleshlight in your hands you brought it to your front and stood up so you had finally been at some sort of eye level with him. His eyes darted down to the sight of your small hands gripping the toy he often used after you would visit, which had been an often occurrence. “Eddie–” “Y/N–”. The two of you are rambling at the same time. He stopped talking and motioned for you to explain how you got yourself into this sticky situation. “Honest to God Eddie, this was a mistake. I never knew you even owned one a-and I am just so sorry.” Your small and delicate hands were squeezing the flesh silicon, in fear he wouldn’t notice how flustered you had been.
His eyes softened at your nerves and he chuckled through his own embarrassment that he had been struggling with. “Darling it’s okay. I am not mad at you and clearly I should have hid it away better. I know you weren’t looking for it.” He gently took baby steps to you as he noticed you were still tensing up. His hands met yours as he slowly pried it from your slightly shaky hands. In his left hand, he held the toy and in the right he was guiding you to sit down. Your back felt like it had been in flames with his hand on the mid of your back. It felt heavy with the extra weight of his bulky rings.
“Y/N, there is really no need to be upset over this. Trust me.” His hand was going up and down trying to sooth your nerves. You just groaned into your hands as you hunched over, shielding yourself from your best friend. “I know it’s just an intimate item and clearly your best friend isn’t supposed to see it. I mean it would be like you finding my vibra–”. You barely finished the sentence before you felt his hand stall. Sitting as stiff as a board you look to your left to see a wide eyed look and a shit eating grin slapped on the curly haired boy. “Oh so you have your own selection of toys I see?” “No! Ignore that comment.”
He started laughing as you stood up and snatched the fake pussy from his hands. “C’mon Y/n, you know I am just messing with you. Masturbation is completely normal and healthy and–”. “Stop it Eddie. You sound just like my mother Jesus.” He could see you examining the fleshlight in your hand as you inspected the curves and grooves that were supposed to be the lips and clit. “Stick your fingers inside.” Your head shot straight up to meet his eyes in disbelief. “That’s gross. You’ve stuck your dick in this. I am not doing that. Plus you must forget I know what a vagina feels like. I don’t need to feel a fake one.” He snorted out a laugh at your blatant disgust as you still kept looking at it.
It was a standard one that you could get from any sex shop. A black plastic cylindrical holder with the silicone toy stuffed inside for maximum pleasure. “Yet you still seem to be intrigued by it even if my dick has been inside it.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky comment, but your cheeks betrayed in revealing the blush that it sent to your face. “I dunno. I’ve heard of them before. I just have never seen one, let alone held one.” You were going to ask your next question but hesitated. He could sense this and leaned back on his elbows looking at you. “Go ahead, ask whatever you want.”
You took a deep breath and swallowed your nerves. “What does it feel like when you use it?” His left eyebrow sort of shot up, not in disbelief or shock but just surprised that you had the balls to say it out loud. “Well, it does its job at feeling like a pussy sometimes. I use lube and obviously it feels very wet. The silicone part is pushed in there pretty tight so it feels very snug when I use it.” You slightly nodded, not sure of what answer you had been expecting. Your next question came out in a bit of a croak. “Does it feel good?” His laugh echoed through the room as he held his stomach. It was kind of cute how innocent you looked. Your eyes darted from him to the toy. “Yes–it does feel good. But it isn’t the real thing, ya know?”
You mentally scolded yourself as you were sure it felt good to him. “Do you use it a lot?” You wanted to sew your mouth shut so you could stop from the self-inflicted torture. “You are curious today dalin’. Uh, yea. To answer your question, I do use it pretty often.” The two of you sat in silence. You couldn’t help it. You wanted more answers but dare not ask the questions. That’s why Eddie was so good. He could practically hear the question in his head as he was spilling out an answer. “Y/n, to answer a question I know you have. I may use it a lot. I use it just about every time you come over to visit. Obviously I don’t use it when you’re here or when you spend the night but yea…”
You couldn’t bear to look him in his eyes. It felt like your heart could leap out of your chest at any given moment. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Eddie scoot down to the foot of the bed. He pulled your legs closer to him, making you shuffle your feet in between his legs. It always drove you crazy when he would manspread. His hands glided over yours. “Hey I’m sorry if that was too much. I don’t want to scare you off or anything. I just wanted to be open with you.” You shook your head and chuckled a bit. “I’m not upset. Just a little surprised.” “What, you don’t think I don’t see how you look at me darlin’?” You turned your head to the right so you couldn’t make eye contact. “I had hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Too late now. I guess the pussy is out of the bag.” You couldn’t help but laugh which had you looking him in the eyes as he was clearly proud of that one. Your laughter died down and your smile dropped. “Were you–were you going to use it after I left today?” This definitely took him by surprise and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed your question. His right hand came up and scratched the back of his head as he let out an almost shameful ‘yes’.
You took in his answer and immediately followed up with another question. This time all bets were off the table. “Can I use it on you?” he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “What?” “I said–.” “No, I heard what you said.” “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just figured I would save you the time later by doing it for you.” For some reason, those words went straight to his cock. He thought it was incredibly hot that you were being this bold. “Do you want to do this angel?” “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t.” He chuckled at your sassy reply. There was his girl.
“I mean if you really want to, be my guest.” This was all you needed as you sank to your knees, maintaining eye contact. You made yourself extremely close to him as you set down the toy to his left thigh. Your hands creeped their way up to his low waist band. You could see his stomach contract and his muscles tensing as your fingers skimmed the fabric over his pelvic bone. “Don’t be a tease baby.” This led you to pay more attention to the very obvious tent that had been growing in his sweats. “So big,” you mumbled more to yourself. You had always heard the rumors but now you had your own confirmation.
“It’s all your baby. All for you.” He knew what to say and it immediately went down to your soaked bikini bottoms. Taking no time, your hands pulled down his sweats to the middle of his thighs, allowing his erection to spring up. It bobbed slightly against his stomach as he was still holding himself up. It curved slightly upward and there had been a prominent vein that ran on the underside of the shaft. It led right up to the cut red tip. Smaller dark curls littered the bottom yet they looked trimmed. The sight alone made you go feral. Admiring it like it had been a sculpture in an art museum. “Touch it sweetheart.” His words snapped you out of your daze.
Your left hand reached out to gently hold it in your hand. It was slightly heavy and had a velvet sort of touch to it. You gently squeezed his cock in your hand and he slightly hissed through his teeth. Just then a dribble of precum emerged from his slit. Without thinking your tongue captured the slightly salty mixture. He gasped at the feeling of your tongue as he hadn’t been expecting it. His right arm reached out to pet your hair and your tongue swirled around his tip. He scooped up as much hair as he could while being gentle with you. Your lips wrapped themselves around his head as your tongue started to trace over the vein. This caused him to grasp your hair harder causing a slight groan to be muffled. “Do you like that sweetheart? Like it when I pull your hair with your pretty lips wrapped around my fucking cock?”
Your eyes said it all. His head just pulled back as you went further down his shaft as your cheeks hollowed out. Painfully going slow to tease him. Paying extra attention to his head. You pulled up right as you could tell he had been enjoying it. A small ‘pop’ echoed in his room. Some more precum leaked out as it slightly fell down his member. “See what you do to me darlin’?” You laughed dryly as you reached for his toy, completely forgetting why you were in this position. Hovering over him, eyes locked, you spit on his cock.
That was an image he would engrain in his memory. His sweet girl on her knees spitting on his cock like a little whore. “Fuck baby.” He moaned at the sight and closed his eyes. He had been so hard, it was easy to gently push the fleshlight over the tip. He let out a loud gasp as he felt it glide over his head with ease. “That’s it baby, make me feel good.” His eyes were screwed shut as you brought the imitation pussy over the tip slowly. Barely pushing down and teasing the fuck out of him. For a few more moments you continued your pattern of just fucking his tip but wanted to see him more fucked out. That’s when you sunk it down completely on him. Bringing it to the base and bottoming out of the toy.
A long and strained moan escaped from his throat as his arm gave out from under him. He reached for the ragged quilt around him, trying to grasp onto something. It felt good to be the one controlling his pleasure. He had always been so cocky and confident and yet here you were fucking with cock with a toy. He lifted his head to make eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but smile slightly. Seeing that fucked out look in his eyes as they glossed over with lust. He looked beautiful like this. You brought it up and brought it down with force this time. He never knew that getting this toy in hopes of helping his thoughts of fucking you come true would lead to this.
Your torture on his cock quickened with your pace. “Does that feel good Eddie?” Your voice was so quiet, not too loud than a whisper. You were still trying to be innocent and it was driving him up the walls. “You have no idea how good it feels darlin’.” Your hand slightly squeezed the plastic holder as your pace quickened more. Your spit was mixing with his precum and it had been lubbing him up quickly, letting out an almost squelching sound. “I always imagine fucking your pussy when I pound it this–this thing.” He rushed out his confession as you continued your assault on his rock hard cock. You didn’t say anything as you just watched the fleshlight swallow his cock every time you pushed it down and pulled it up.
You couldn’t help but think this is what it would look like if you were riding him instead of using his own toy on him. “Y/n, sweetheart, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last. You just feel so fucking good.” That made your eyes meet his as you bit your lip and continued your fast movements of going up and down on his member. “Yeah? Are you going to cum thinking about how this could be my pussy instead Eddie?” His eyes practically rolled into the back of his skull at the sound of your question. “God yes. Please baby, make me cum in that tight pussy of yours.” His pleas were like hymns.
You knew it wouldn’t take too much to make him cum so quickly while you were still pumping his cock into his toy, your head darted down to his balls. Excitedly taking one into your mouth, you rolled it around while gently sucking on it. This caused his hips to fuck up into your hand at a distorted rhythm. “That’s it baby. That’s it.” He was so close and he didn’t want this to end, but he needed to cum. You continued to tongue at him as you kept pumping him when you felt his hips still and you could feel his cock twitch. “That’s it Eddie, cum.” His hips rutted up slightly as moans of your name fell from his lips. You could make out a slightly sheer coat of sweat on his forehead as he sat himself back up.
You didn’t take the toy off immediately. You slightly pumped his overstimulated cock to see how sensitive he got. He gasped and tried to move away. You lightly laughed as you carefully brought the toy up and off of him. His cum quickly followed and dripped all over his stomach and pelvis. It truly did look like he just came inside a pussy and that made something in your lower stomach churn. “That was fucking incredible.” He was slightly out of breath as he sat up fully. He reached over and took off the distressed Iron Maiden shirt. He used it to whip the cum off of him and the toy, as much as he could.
“Do you do that with all your shirts?” “That’s what you're concerned about right now?” “Well, I do wear them often so yes.” He couldn’t believe you and just laughed as he tucked himself back into his sweats. Tossing you an old Sabbath shirt, he made his way to the headboard, gesturing for you to join him. You crawled up to him and slotted yourself under his left arm. “I think we should do that more often, but maybe not with any sex toys,” you shyly said. “Yea? I would love to do that too.”
You both sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. You spotted something on his nightstand to the right of him. Sitting on top of an issue of Heavy Metal was the glass pipe that had gotten you into all of this. “Fuck me,” you muttered as you reached across his torse to grasp the delicate item. “Can you pack a bowl while I get some snacks?”
a/n: THIS CAME TO ME ONE LATE NIGHT AFTER ONE TOO MANY BOWLS. Just pure filth, but enjoy at your disposal.
Summary: Eddie's long time best friend finds something interesting and decides to explore her curiosity.
Warnings: Pure porn. Use of sex toys, heavy mention of drugs, swearing, oral (m! receiving), fem!reader, slightly dom!reader, mention of creampie if you squint, pet names, I think that’s it?? MDNI–18+ ONLY!
wc: 3.5k
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader best friend
Requests are open!
DO NOT PUBLISH MY WORK ANYWHERE
photo credit: N/A
You weren’t exactly looking for your best friend’s sex toy. Honest to God. Eddie had sent you on a mission to get your favorite bowl to smoke out of for the next session the curly haired boy started. It had been a blistering summer day in the middle of July. Peak heat was burning down on your sweat coated skin and neither of you could take the abuse of the rays any longer.
You had haphazardly thrown on some band shirt that Eddie had laying on the ground. An old Iron Maiden shirt that was starting to get holes in the collar and sleeves. You praised Eddie for always buying oversized shirts so he could share them with you, something he had picked up on early in your friendship.
It fell just a bit below where your ass and thighs connected. It had covered the black bikini bottoms that had been completely dry from sitting out in the Indiana heat. “Jesus Eddie, have you ever heard of a bookshelf? Or some sort of organization?” You rolled your eyes as you hung up his beloved denim vest on a hanger in his closet as you could hear him mumble some half-ass remark. No wonder Eddie lost everything, he never put anything away. You recalled the multitude of times that you had practically begged him to let you clean his room. His defense was that creative people had messy rooms and if anything had changed you would be “damaging” his creative genius.
Socks, shirts, and boxers had littered the floor and chair in his room. You were surprised he hadn’t discovered a new fungi species in this abyss. He was careless with his smoking equipment so you had figured it would be on the floor. Dropping to be on your hands and knees, you began rummaging under the bed that had been all too familiar. Textbooks from sophomore biology and barely worn pants were scattered all over. Shoving things to the side as it had been too dark to see under, your hand collided with something that you couldn’t make out. The base felt cylindrical and got wider at the top with some sort of spongy dome on the top.
Your arm retracted with the unknown object in your right arm until it saw the light of day. Your eyes went wide and your left hand smacked over your mouth hoping your gasp wasn’t loud enough for the boy in the next room to hear. You weren’t meant to see this because it was under his bed but your curiosity got the better of you anyway. It had been such a shock to discover your best friend’s personal pocket pussy. The thought of him actually having used it made something in your lower stomach burn.
You inspected the pink silicone toy with a decent anatomy on top. The flesh tone and outline of the clit and labia made your mind race with different situations in which Eddie would use it. You couldn’t help but take your finger and run the tip of it around the artificial slit. It felt clean and smelt of antibacterial soap. At least it was a bit comforting to know he properly washed this thing. ‘How long has he had this?’ ‘Where did he get it?’ ‘How often does he use this?’ All these questions were flooding into your brain with each second that passed.
It must have been why didn’t hear the creaking of his door opening. “Y/N–what are you doing?” You let out a small scream as you tried hiding the toy as if it were your secret and not his. “Eds I I didn’t mean to find it, I swear. My hand just grazed this thing and I grabbed it and pulled it out and if I had any idea of what it was I would never have pulled it out. You know it’s normal for guys to have things like this–”. “Y/N please stop talking.” He couldn’t move from his place in the doorway. Partially from being embarrassed that you had found his little toy but also from you being on your knees with his shirt riding up on your hips, revealing your thighs that had been sticking together all day due to the cruel heat.
Your eyes scanned over his body. His cheeks were turning bright red and you could make out the slight tips of his ears burning with embarrassment as well. His chest became flushed, which made for a fun juxtaposition with the black ink on his chest. It was a rare occasion that you had ever seen Eddie shirtless, but was it a pleasure. Traveling further south, small black hairs were scattered under his gray sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips. Your eyes averted their attention back to his face as you had this dumbfounded look on your face.
Still holding the fleshlight in your hands you brought it to your front and stood up so you had finally been at some sort of eye level with him. His eyes darted down to the sight of your small hands gripping the toy he often used after you would visit, which had been an often occurrence. “Eddie–” “Y/N–”. The two of you are rambling at the same time. He stopped talking and motioned for you to explain how you got yourself into this sticky situation. “Honest to God Eddie, this was a mistake. I never knew you even owned one a-and I am just so sorry.” Your small and delicate hands were squeezing the flesh silicon, in fear he wouldn’t notice how flustered you had been.
His eyes softened at your nerves and he chuckled through his own embarrassment that he had been struggling with. “Darling it’s okay. I am not mad at you and clearly I should have hid it away better. I know you weren’t looking for it.” He gently took baby steps to you as he noticed you were still tensing up. His hands met yours as he slowly pried it from your slightly shaky hands. In his left hand, he held the toy and in the right he was guiding you to sit down. Your back felt like it had been in flames with his hand on the mid of your back. It felt heavy with the extra weight of his bulky rings.
“Y/N, there is really no need to be upset over this. Trust me.” His hand was going up and down trying to sooth your nerves. You just groaned into your hands as you hunched over, shielding yourself from your best friend. “I know it’s just an intimate item and clearly your best friend isn’t supposed to see it. I mean it would be like you finding my vibra–”. You barely finished the sentence before you felt his hand stall. Sitting as stiff as a board you look to your left to see a wide eyed look and a shit eating grin slapped on the curly haired boy. “Oh so you have your own selection of toys I see?” “No! Ignore that comment.”
He started laughing as you stood up and snatched the fake pussy from his hands. “C’mon Y/n, you know I am just messing with you. Masturbation is completely normal and healthy and–”. “Stop it Eddie. You sound just like my mother, Jesus.” He could see you examining the fleshlight in your hand as you inspected the curves and grooves that were supposed to be the lips and clit. “Stick your fingers inside.” Your head shot straight up to meet his eyes in disbelief. “That’s gross. You’ve stuck your dick in this. I am not doing that. Plus you must forget I know what a vagina feels like. I don’t need to feel a fake one.” He snorted out a laugh at your blatant disgust as you still kept looking at it.
It was a standard one that you could get from any sex shop. A black plastic cylindrical holder with the silicone toy stuffed inside for maximum pleasure. “Yet you still seem to be intrigued by it even if my dick has been inside it.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky comment, but your cheeks betrayed in revealing the blush that it sent to your face. “I dunno. I’ve heard of them before. I just have never seen one, let alone held one.” You were going to ask your next question but hesitated. He could sense this and leaned back on his elbows looking at you. “Go ahead, ask whatever you want.”
You took a deep breath and swallowed your nerves. “What does it feel like when you use it?” His left eyebrow sort of shot up, not in disbelief or shock but just surprised that you had the balls to say it out loud. “Well, it does its job at feeling like a pussy sometimes. I use lube and obviously it feels very wet. The silicone part is pushed in there pretty tight so it feels very snug when I use it.” You slightly nodded, not sure of what answer you had been expecting. Your next question came out in a bit of a croak. “Does it feel good?” His laugh echoed through the room as he held his stomach. It was kind of cute how innocent you looked. Your eyes darted from him to the toy. “Yes–it does feel good. But it isn’t the real thing, ya know?”
You mentally scolded yourself as you were sure it felt good to him. “Do you use it a lot?” You wanted to sew your mouth shut so you could stop from the self-inflicted torture. “You are curious today dalin’. Uh, yea. To answer your question, I do use it pretty often.” The two of you sat in silence. You couldn’t help it. You wanted more answers but dare not ask the questions. That’s why Eddie was so good. He could practically hear the question in his head as he was spilling out an answer. “Y/n, to answer a question I know you have. I may use it a lot. I use it just about every time you come over to visit. Obviously I don’t use it when you’re here or when you spend the night but yea…”
You couldn’t bear to look him in his eyes. It felt like your heart could leap out of your chest at any given moment. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Eddie scoot down to the foot of the bed. He pulled your legs closer to him, making you shuffle your feet in between his legs. It always drove you crazy when he would manspread. His hands glided over yours. “Hey I’m sorry if that was too much. I don’t want to scare you off or anything. I just wanted to be open with you.” You shook your head and chuckled a bit. “I’m not upset. Just a little surprised.” “What, you don’t think I don’t see how you look at me darlin’?” You turned your head to the right so you couldn’t make eye contact. “I had hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Too late now. I guess the pussy is out of the bag.” You couldn’t help but laugh which had you looking him in the eyes as he was clearly proud of that one. Your laughter died down and your smile dropped. “Were you–were you going to use it after I left today?” This definitely took him by surprise and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed your question. His right hand came up and scratched the back of his head as he let out an almost shameful ‘yes’.
You took in his answer and immediately followed up with another question. This time all bets were off the table. “Can I use it on you?” he had no choice but to meet your eyes. “What?” “I said–.” “No, I heard what you said.” “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just figured I would save you the time later by doing it for you.” For some reason, those words went straight to his cock. He thought it was incredibly hot that you were being this bold. “Do you want to do this angel?” “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t.” He chuckled at your sassy reply. There was his girl.
“I mean if you really want to, be my guest.” This was all you needed as you sank to your knees, maintaining eye contact. You made yourself extremely close to him as you set down the toy to his left thigh. Your hands creeped their way up to his low waist band. You could see his stomach contract and his muscles tensing as your fingers skimmed the fabric over his pelvic bone. “Don’t be a tease baby.” This led you to pay more attention to the very obvious tent that had been growing in his sweats. “So big,” you mumbled more to yourself. You had always heard the rumors but now you had your own confirmation.
“It’s all your baby. All for you.” He knew what to say and it immediately went down to your soaked bikini bottoms. Taking no time, your hands pulled down his sweats to the middle of his thighs, allowing his erection to spring up. It bobbed slightly against his stomach as he was still holding himself up. It curved slightly upward and there had been a prominent vein that ran on the underside of the shaft. It led right up to the cut red tip. Smaller dark curls littered the bottom yet they looked trimmed. The sight alone made you go feral. Admiring it like it had been a sculpture in an art museum. “Touch it sweetheart.” His words snapped you out of your daze.
Your left hand reached out to gently hold it in your hand. It was slightly heavy and had a velvet sort of touch to it. You gently squeezed his cock in your hand and he slightly hissed through his teeth. Just then a dribble of precum emerged from his slit. Without thinking your tongue captured the slightly salty mixture. He gasped at the feeling of your tongue as he hadn’t been expecting it. His right arm reached out to pet your hair and your tongue swirled around his tip. He scooped up as much hair as he could while being gentle with you. Your lips wrapped themselves around his head as your tongue started to trace over the vein. This caused him to grasp your hair harder causing a slight groan to be muffled. “Do you like that sweetheart? Like it when I pull your hair with your pretty lips wrapped around my fucking cock?”
Your eyes said it all. His head just pulled back as you went further down his shaft as your cheeks hollowed out. Painfully going slow to tease him. Paying extra attention to his head. You pulled up right as you could tell he had been enjoying it. A small ‘pop’ echoed in his room. Some more precum leaked out as it slightly fell down his member. “See what you do to me darlin’?” You laughed dryly as you reached for his toy, completely forgetting why you were in this position. Hovering over him, eyes locked, you spit on his cock.
That was an image he would engrain in his memory. His sweet girl on her knees spitting on his cock like a little whore. “Fuck baby.” He moaned at the sight and closed his eyes. He had been so hard, it was easy to gently push the fleshlight over the tip. He let out a loud gasp as he felt it glide over his head with ease. “That’s it baby, make me feel good.” His eyes were screwed shut as you brought the imitation pussy over the tip slowly. Barely pushing down and teasing the fuck out of him. For a few more moments you continued your pattern of just fucking his tip but wanted to see him more fucked out. That’s when you sunk it down completely on him. Bringing it to the base and bottoming out of the toy.
A long and strained moan escaped from his throat as his arm gave out from under him. He reached for the ragged quilt around him, trying to grasp onto something. It felt good to be the one controlling his pleasure. He had always been so cocky and confident and yet here you were fucking with cock with a toy. He lifted his head to make eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but smile slightly. Seeing that fucked out look in his eyes as they glossed over with lust. He looked beautiful like this. You brought it up and brought it down with force this time. He never knew that getting this toy in hopes of helping his thoughts of fucking you come true would lead to this.
Your torture on his cock quickened with your pace. “Does that feel good Eddie?” Your voice was so quiet, not too loud than a whisper. You were still trying to be innocent and it was driving him up the walls. “You have no idea how good it feels darlin’.” Your hand slightly squeezed the plastic holder as your pace quickened more. Your spit was mixing with his precum and it had been lubbing him up quickly, letting out an almost squelching sound. “I always imagine fucking your pussy when I pound it this–this thing.” He rushed out his confession as you continued your assault on his rock hard cock. You didn’t say anything as you just watched the fleshlight swallow his cock every time you pushed it down and pulled it up.
You couldn’t help but think this is what it would look like if you were riding him instead of using his own toy on him. “Y/n, sweetheart, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last. You just feel so fucking good.” That made your eyes meet his as you bit your lip and continued your fast movements of going up and down on his member. “Yeah? Are you going to cum thinking about how this could be my pussy instead Eddie?” His eyes practically rolled into the back of his skull at the sound of your question. “God yes. Please baby, make me cum in that tight pussy of yours.” His pleas were like hymns.
You knew it wouldn’t take too much to make him cum so quickly while you were still pumping his cock into his toy, your head darted down to his balls. Excitedly taking one into your mouth, you rolled it around while gently sucking on it. This caused his hips to fuck up into your hand at a distorted rhythm. “That’s it baby. That’s it.” He was so close and he didn’t want this to end, but he needed to cum. You continued to tongue at him as you kept pumping him when you felt his hips still and you could feel his cock twitch. “That’s it Eddie, cum.” His hips rutted up slightly as moans of your name fell from his lips. You could make out a slightly sheer coat of sweat on his forehead as he sat himself back up.
You didn’t take the toy off immediately. You slightly pumped his overstimulated cock to see how sensitive he got. He gasped and tried to move away. You lightly laughed as you carefully brought the toy up and off of him. His cum quickly followed and dripped all over his stomach and pelvis. It truly did look like he just came inside a pussy and that made something in your lower stomach churn. “That was fucking incredible.” He was slightly out of breath as he sat up fully. He reached over and took off the distressed Iron Maiden shirt. He used it to whip the cum off of him and the toy, as much as he could.
“Do you do that with all your shirts?” “That’s what you're concerned about right now?” “Well, I do wear them often so yes.” He couldn’t believe you and just laughed as he tucked himself back into his sweats. Tossing you an old Sabbath shirt, he made his way to the headboard, gesturing for you to join him. You crawled up to him and slotted yourself under his left arm. “I think we should do that more often, but maybe not with any sex toys,” you shyly said. “Yea? I would love to do that too.”
You both sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. You spotted something on his nightstand to the right of him. Sitting on top of an issue of Heavy Metal was the glass pipe that had gotten you into all of this. “Fuck me,” you muttered as you reached across his torso to grasp the delicate item. “Can you pack a bowl while I get some snacks?”
