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tender-rosiey · 10 months ago

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plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾

robes — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me👰‍♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna

sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.

it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.

in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.

so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.

uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.

the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.

he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.

considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.

so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.

so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.

he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.

perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.

that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.

and no one knows about that door except—

“y/n.”

you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.

you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”

keyword: try.

he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”

he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”

your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.

you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.

sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”

he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.

you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.

and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?

he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”

you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, he also wants to know what’s wrong.

if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.

his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.

“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.

“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.

he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—

—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”

he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.

so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”

after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”

you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”

“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”

a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”

you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.

you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”

a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from your husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.

sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”

“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”

he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.

you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”

you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”

he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”

you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”

“good,” he smirks.

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#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #sukuna imagine #jjk sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna x you #jjk sukuna x y/n

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mrsbarnesblog · 7 months ago

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the "it" couple

masterlist

requests are open

summary: you and Rafe being the hottest couple on the island

word count: 1.3k.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of nude pictures, Rafe is reader's first everything, you're both lovesick

a/n: my obsession with soft and painfully in love Rafe is not curable at this point. but like could you imagine having him all to yourself?? ughhh the things i'd let him do to me😩

Everyone knew that there are couples that, at first glance, give you the impression that they just have really good sex. Like they are so hot and perfectly compliment each other, with a certain vibe oozing out of them, especially when they are together.

You and Rafe were that couple.

Before you started dating, no one ever considered that two polar opposites like you might even coexist. You were a kook, but still completely different from Rafe and his little gang. You were pretty, but more on the quiet side, never showing off or bothering anybody.

Rafe, on the other hand, was mean and sarcastic to everyone and everything. It was a good thing that you put him in his place the first time he talked to you, making it clear that you are not having his shit. And also making Rafe instantly interested and following you like a puppy.

You were annoyingly teasing and flirting with each other, and everyone tried not to get involved in whatever was going on. It was your first experience with a guy, because before that, nobody was really making their shots, or, at least, you never paid enough attention to notice it, choosing to focus on yourself. But with Rafe, it felt fun and so damn easy.

Your first kiss set everything in its place because you finally gave in to your hidden emotions. It made sense why you were always arguing and pestering each other—you simply craved attention from one another and it was the easiest way to get it.

Surprisingly, Rafe’s rough edges softened, especially around you, and he was so affectionate and craved you around him 24/7. Though, knowing that you’ve never been in relationships before, he never pushed you to do anything, just following your pace.

But after your first time happened in the third month of dating, after the ice melted and your insecurities fully disappeared, Rafe almost got another version of his girlfriend.

If he thought that you couldn’t be better, then he was wrong.

He never understood his friends who said that they had to almost beg their girlfriends to have sex, mostly because Rafe had never been in actual relationships before. But it made even less sense for him because you, seemingly, had the same energy and high sex drive as him.

The first few times may have been slightly awkward with you still learning and trying to understand your own body, but once you got confident, you became unstoppable.

Whether it was early morning, the middle of the day, or way past your bedtime, you were ready to have sex right away, straddling Rafe's legs or luring him into a kiss while your hands slipped under his pants.

It was crazy how much you both wanted each other. It was a perfect fucking match to have someone with exactly the same needs. You probably have been bent over every single flat surface in the house and not a single room was safe from the two of you. He wanted you all to himself and he could go hours just worshiping your body and fucking you into bliss.

You were almost glued together, never coming to an event alone. Rafe was so obsessed with the way you looked, with your smell, and with the feeling of your skin on his, so he always had to touch you one way or another. His friends teased him that he was absolutely pussy whipped for you and he had never denied it. They also started calling you Mrs. Cameron because you acted like a married couple and neither of you were against that nickname.

To say more, the idea of that made Rafe so feral for you, so he didn’t let you get out of bed the following day. Not that you complained, though.

Rafe loved sneaking out with you. Whenever you two had to visit a gala with your families, he always snatched you from the main room to drag you to the bathroom or another hidden place to have a quickie or to burry his head under your dress because you were too hot to resist. Yeah, maybe other people noticed it, giving you their usual politely awkward smiles, but neither of you care.

On his birthday, you gave him the best fucking gift, which was a stack of your naked polaroid pictures. You were really nervous to do that, thinking that Rafe might react differently, but he reminded you once again why he was your perfect match. After looking through the photos several times, he literally attacked you, throwing you back on the bed and giving you the best orgasms of your life.

Since that day, one of the less explicit pictures of your ass has been placed in his wallet.

You were officially the “it” couple on the island, with everyone either admiring or being jealous of that spark, which never seemed to diminish. Everyone saw the way the Rafe Cameron gave you heart eyes, soft smiles and gentle kisses. The way he held you close to himself, protecting you, taking care of you, and treating you like a queen.

Some people told you that it was only the excitement of a new relationship, but after a few years of dating, with a promise ring on your finger, it was still there. You still craved each other's touch; you still craved being together whenever it was possible, always going on dates and trips, attending all of Kook’s events, but mostly spending lazy days in your shared house. Sex was even better than before—more passionate, fun, hot and full of unconditional love.

Despite the gossip on the island, Rafe didn't get “bored” of you. No, over time, he became addicted to you because you felt like home, and there was nothing better than being with you.

He didn't need any other women. And he still couldn't grasp the idea of cheating. If he had you, then why on earth would he do that? Every time he came home, the best person in the world and the best sex of his life were in that exact location, so he never complained about anything.

You were his afrodisiac and whether you were in full glam, in a bikini on the beach or in his old t-shirt with messy hair, he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself and not kiss the air out of you.

He liked how you stayed at home, doing whatever you wanted and treating yourself while he worked. You always greeted him with homemade food, but more importantly, you acted as if you had not seen him in months.

You were waiting on the porch or finishing up in the kitchen, but when you saw him, you ran and jumped into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. It always melted Rafe’s worries and bad mood away, as his shoulders sagged in relief from being in your arms again.

You always ended up in your bedroom, with you on or under him, while your hands were tugging at each other’s clothes. Rafe knew that it would eventually end up with him finally putting a baby in you—something that more and more flooded his mind—but for the foreseeable future, he first had to officially make you his Mrs. Cameron.

And the red box with the big ass diamond ring, which was currently sitting in the drawer, was just waiting for the perfect moment.

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader

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typicalcommondandelion · 1 year ago

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youtube

Haiii guys the animation is finished. Do you ever think about these two. Because I sure do

#SPINNING AROUDN IN CIRCLES BITING MY HEAD OFF BUTING WOOD BITHING THROUGHT HE WALLS BITING THROUGH THE SUPPORT SHRGHRGRGRHGRGRHHR!!!#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOYL FUCKING SHIT!!!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY FUCKING GOD SHOLY SHIT!?!?!?! AAAAAAAAAAA #decided to FINALLY watch this bc i've been in a bad mood these past few days and I DO NOT REGRTE IT #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?!?!?! AAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#THIS THING HAS MY HEART THIS THIGN HAS MY ENTIRE BRAIN THIS THING HAS ME .#TIME TO PRATTLE OFF ON MY FAVORUTIE MOMENTS #the transition from Heresy's environment to the cover of Cry for the Weeper was SO fucking smooth and seamless that shit was like water #couldnt tell where one thing ended and the other began oh my fucking god holy shit #THE GIANT VIEW OF CHARON'S SHOP RISING OUT OF THE WATER??????? HOLY FUCKING SHIT OH MY FUCKING GOD ABSOLUTELY STUNNING #THE RENDERING THE LIGHTING ON V1'S WINGS AND LANTERN THE SPOTLIGHT THAT CREATES THE WARM LIGHT VS DARK WATER #THE MOMENT WHERE V1 RETRIEVES THE ROCKETLAUNCHER AND IT AND V2 MIRROR THE DEEP BLUE COVER ART #SOMETHIGN SOMETHING 'It should have been me (V2)' SOMETHING SOMETHING 'Because I'm a part of you I have also done this'#HAUNTED!!!!! HAUNTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#also something about choosing deep blue as a song and wrath as setting. aside from the fact wrath proceeds greed it's just......#wrath. of course. ghosts stick around when they have unfinished business. that includes vengence. poltergeists wraiths ect. ect.#EVERY MOMENT WHERE YOU SEE THE GHOST OF AN OPTIC ON V1'S BACK/WINGPACK. AUGH. AUGH. AUGH #MY HEART MY HERAT MY HEART MY HEART #also lovely shape for v1's wings. the elevator scene really exemplifies it.#THE HERESY WINDOW PART. WHERE V2 IS STARING AT V1 BUT V1 DOESN'T LOOK AT IT. POLTERGIEST!!!!#somethign something to v1 it's a bother. a nuisance. something on the long list of shit to survive and overcome #to v2 it is everything. it is its whole existence to obsess and hate v1 #the still shot just before the heresy window is also just STUNNING. all those overlapping wings like honey/-glass is just beautiful against #-the red #and finally. deep blue was a really good choice bc lining up the saxophone part with v2 clinging onto v1 felt so melancholic and SUPERB #auagagauahaggaugahgah. AUAUGAAHGAGUAGAAHGAHA! in love. in love. in love. in love. in love. in love. in love. in love. in love. in love. in #ultrakill #yurikill #videos

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evieelyzabethh · 3 months ago

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"lacy"

⭒"i see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear"⭒ Arcane characters when jealous {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slight angst but they all have a happy ending, kissing, and the usual stuff (slightly pervy Jayce)

♞Vi♞

♞Making Vi jealous is a terrible game. She is about that action and absolutely loves to fight, nothing beats that flow of adrenaline as she chases someone down to bash their face in. I feel like she would also get a bit mean. Jealousy is a nasty thing, it bites, and she bites back harder. The pit it creates in her stomach tries to swallow her whole and sometimes she wants to bring you down with her

♞She doesn't understand why you would want or need the attention of anyone else when you have her. Chiefly at the beginning of your relationship, it would cause a rift, intention or not. Vi doesn't have a proper education, she’s constantly guilt ridden about her childhood and her sister, she's broke, and an absolute hot mess. She's already constantly questioning why you're with her in the first place and the last thing she needs is some random coming up and flirting with you and you even bothering to dignify their presence with a response.

♞She would go dead silent, brushing you off for what feels like weeks, stewing in her increasingly negative thoughts. She doesn't even think you're cheating, but she feels like it's only a moment of time before you realize there's something better out there. Always the one to make the wrong decision, she pushes you away for a bit. She's very short with you, brushing off your attempts to make peace, playing a mean game to see if you're gonna give up on her so she can use it against you. This is definitely her biggest red flag.

It's dark and rainy out, rain pelting at the ground, seeping and sliding into its cracks to rehydrate the already soft foundation. It was supposed to be a calm night out at the Last Drop involving a few drinks to get Vi out of her current terrible mood, bookended by an unstable walk home as you both barely support each other under your weight and constant fit of giggles. Instead, Vi was a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved into her pockets, her head down rather than putting her hood up to keep her head dry from the rain. Every time you approach her, she slightly leans away. At first you thought it was an accident, maybe she was trying to avoid stepping on a rock or into a puddle, but after the umpteenth time it happens, the message becomes clear. She's avoiding you. As argumentative as she is, you may even be worse. "What the fuck is your, problem?", you bark, the alcohol in your veins curving the embarrassment of passersby clearly tuning into the argument they think is about to break out. "You've said some choice things and have been awfully rude these past few days, and I really don't appreciate it, Violet." But she doesn't have it in her to make a big scene. It's definitely the alcohol, because she's genuinely scared that if she starts a screaming match with you right now, she'll cry. She turns to you swiftly, hair dripping wet, stray dye rolling down her cheeks and down the slope of her nose. You had just dyed it together a few days ago, back before she decided to be mad at you for who knows what reason. "Look at me", she grabs your chin before you even get the chance to break eye contact with her. Petty, pissed, and unable to jerk your face out of her grip without giving yourself whiplash, you close your eyes. This pisses her off even more. "What, you don't have any more charity work left in you? You can giggle with what-his-face for hours, but you can't even look at your girlfriend?" That gets you to open your eyes, at first confused as to what the hell she was talking about then glittering with amusement that causes her to immediately let go and continue her fast paced walk back home. She isn't far enough to escape your light voice, cheery with the realization that you finally broke her down and occupied with what you think is the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, my gods, you're jealous about that guy from last night! Vi, you're so ridiculous, I don't even remember his name." And she is still teeming with anger, but that anger will dissipate soon after that last admission. Once you sober up, you don't find it as funny, but she's at your every beck and call trying to convince you it won't happen again.

♞After a little while together, she feels more stable in the relationship. Trust, she still gets jealous, but it usually looks like a smirk on her face before she pulls you into a heated kiss in front of whoever is bothering her. She makes a real show of it too, prying open your mouth to slip her tongue inside, her hands squeezing your sides and hiking up your dress, knee pressed firmly in between your legs. She continues long after the person leaves, before shrugging and sarcastically wondering where they possibly could've gone off to. You often scold her for this. You've never been to jail, and you'd hate to go for a public indecency charge.

★Ekko★

★Ekko doesn't really get jealous, like out of everyone I think he would get the least jealous so most of this section would be about his complete lack of jealousy. He doesn't believe in getting into relationships without trust first and it's because of this confident trust that he wouldn't get jealous. If anything, he wouldn't be jealous as in feeling like your relationship was in danger but jealous when it comes to your time. Like he would get slightly pouty if he felt like you were spending too much time with your friends, and it was significantly cutting out of your time together. Even then, he wouldn't really act on it.

★Ekko would be a "I don't care what my girlfriend wears, I can fight" kinda guy. Especially because he likes picking out your outfits, he does it with the intention of showing off the goods. He likes looking at you, he knows the world likes looking at you, he sees it as doing a favor to society. He is the first to tell you your tits look scrumptious in that top.

★Same concept with you being approached or flirted with. If they have the gall to do it in his direct presence, he has a great many words to say about it, but if he's watching it go down, he likes to watch it happen. He'll get involved as soon as he gets the feeling you are uncomfortable, but for the most part he sits amused a few feet away laughing at the glances you give him as the conversation goes on.

★I feel like if anyone was to get jealous, it would be you. Ekko spends a lot of time with a lot of different people which leaves space for certain people to not know that he's spoken for. I think he would be less aware of this than you. You are always at the forefront of his mind; he cannot fathom giving his attention to other people. Especially because he talks about you so often, he makes it quite clear that he is not single and when people choose to ignore that fact, he doesn't notice.

Warm light flitters into your shared room through half open blinds that reveal the orange and yellow that the blue sky had faded into. Ekko had just gotten home eager to strip down into some old, tattered tee shirt and some boxer shirts. Instead, he was met with a slightly agitated girlfriend, and he notices this immediately. He gives you space at first, greeting you at the door and asking you how you were and listening to your expectedly short answer. He only lasts a few minutes of this passive aggression before sliding beside you on the couch, sliding his arm around you and pulling you in close. You reluctantly lean in, trying to ignore how inviting he smells and how warm he feels. "Baby," he draws out, scooping you completely into his arms to straddling your thighs over his waist, his large palms remaining on your upper thigh. He's trying to whittle down your resolve and it is working. "Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" You rolled your eyes. "I've already told you what's wrong." He thinks it's cute that you're jealous. He likes the way your arms cross over your puffed chest, and you furrow your brow to try and appear serious but all you look like to him is a rabbit about to thump its foot. "And I have already told you, I am completely yours." It's cheesy and he knows it and he amps it up by scattering kiss all over your face, even as you try to evade his touch. "I don't doubt that, it's just..." He derails your sentences as his kisses move lower and his hands get more adventurous, exploring your upper thigh and the curve of your ass and the small of your back from underneath your shirt. "Hey!", you snap, "I'm being serious, Ekko." He pauses, withdrawing his hands to the fat of your hips and, reluctantly, his lips from your neck. "I'm listening, baby." "I've told you I don't know how many times that I do not like that girl. She is all over you." His mouth opens to try and protest, but you cut him off. "I can literally smell her perfume on you." He gets slightly defensive at this. "You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you?" A look of hurt flashes across his eyes. "Of course, I don't, Ekko. I'm not questioning you; I'm questioning her. I know she knows we're together and she just doesn't care, and you don't shut it down. Why else do you think she kept you out this late? What were you two doing?" Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, actually. The girl you were referring to, Thalara, had been a topic of conversation before. She was new to the commune, which landed her the benefit of the doubt with you, but it's been months now and she still hasn't laid off. Ekko, ever trusting of his people, never assumed malintent, but you saw right through her. You cup his head in between your hands, looking him in his eyes to make sure that the message is clear. "I love you, and I'm not mad at you, but she's pissing me off. You need to make it very clear that she needs to leave you alone or I will send the message for you." And you meant that. He makes it very clear to her the next day that he has absolutely no interest and comes back to you the next day beaming in accomplishment.

★Jealous you turns him on so incredibly much. Whatever you say goes, he is not one to turn you down when you're in a jealous mood.

❂Jayce❂

❂I feel like you would both get jealous, but he would get far more jealous than you do. While he is far from someone who would tell you to change what you're wearing, he does try and tag along with you when you're wearing something low cut. Like babe, what do you mean you don't want him to join girls night? Are you sure you're not cold?? You must be cold; your ass is hanging out, why won't you take his jacket?? Please take his jacket!!! Because of this he walks behind you, making it much harder for those undeserving to stare at you like he does.

❂While he loves showing you off at fancy events, ain't shit funny if you look too good. If you're lucky enough to make it out the house on time (he insists on helping you zip up but then gets confused which way zippers go), being there is a struggle. He likes staring at you and did not have the forethought to think other people would enjoy staring at you too. Let someone make a comment too, he is glued to your hip for the rest of the night.

He waits anxiously for the stupid gala to be over. Had he been more of a drinker, he would've been content to have a few glasses of the fancy champagne they brought around, but he hates the ethanol aftertaste it leaves behind and that is the last thing he needed after already feeling nauseous. He was trying so hard for you, he knew he had to give you your space, and he knew you were excited to go out to his Hextech showcase to show your support. He's being bitter and he hates it, he hates biting his tongue while watching you giggle with a councilman and the fact that he feels like a petulant child watching some other kid play with his toy He's been getting better with his jealousy, honest! That's why he's self-aware enough to know that his urge to go after you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you home himself is childsh and silly and that you would chastise him over it as he looked at you like a kicked puppy. Gods, this was stupid. But he puts a smile on his face anyway, making his way over to you from the balcony he was just standing on, and sliding his hand on your shoulder. You look over at him, startled for a second, but relax when you see his amber eyes and slightly gapped smile. And then you say the magic words. "Oh, I was just about to go looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He cannot say yes fast enough. After he has you all to himself, he is insatiable, kissing you deeply as soon as you step foot in the carriage taking you home, losing balance and nearly sending you both toppling onto the floor of the moving vehicle. The seats are awkward and not long enough to properly lay you down, but he's too desperate to care about the discomfort, his hand cradling the back of your neck to make sure you are as comfortable as you can be. He's ruthless, the force of his kisses knocking the breath out of you and you can never catch up. You're almost dizzy, his desperate whispers nearly going through one ear and out the other. "You love me, right? Me and only me? You don't need anyone else.", and he's trying to find your zipper again, but his hands are clumsy and cold, and it only serves to arch your back further into him, not that he's complaining. When you do come to your senses, you giggle, running your nails through his hair as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "How long have you been holding that in." He looks at you sheepishly, fighting the urge to hide his embarrassment in the crook of your neck. "All night." You shake your head at his ridiculousness, pulling him in for a slower kiss, properly savoring the moment, before pulled away to peck his nose. "You are the only one for me, handsome, I don't know how many times I have to say it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "A few more times wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes and ask if he wants a collar, and he does not look as adverse as you expected.

❂He is so incredibly unhinged when it comes to jealousy. He doesn't act on it, but his mind goes to wild places. In a modern AU, if you dare not reply to a text in ten minutes he's asking, "What position he got you in?" Even worse, he knows he's being senseless, it's his way of asking for reassurance in a joking way. It's so absurd, you don't take him seriously which slightly frustrates him because he wants you to reaffirm him on what he already knows.

❂He gets really pouty when jealous too. He'll usually try and thrust himself into his work to occupy his mind and get it back to a rational place. Viktor calls you immediately because he ends up talking to him about it and he thinks the entire ordeal is unreasonable and doesn't have time to be asked at the ass crack of dawn "I know she loves me, but what if (insert insane scenario here)." He is a chronic overthinker and sometimes you just have to shut his brain off.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is another one who doesn't get super jealous, but when he does, it usually stems from insecurities surrounding his leg. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, especially as his condition gets worse, he gets frustrated that he can't do the things as easy as he used to be able to. However, he is entirely too proud to admit it or act on it. You probably wouldn't even notice, to be honest, and he wouldn't want you to.

☽I think he would absolutely throw himself into work when jealous. He's already at the lab damn near day and night, but unlike usual when he'll try for conversation here and there and be more lively, he's throwing himself into it out of necessity. It is one of his pride and joys, when his ego takes a hit, work is his refuge. This, of course, hardly ever works because he does not get good work done when it's being forced. He'll usually end up staring at the photo he keeps of you at your desk and feel lonely.

☽He'll invite you around to his lab more, though he is uncharacteristically stiff and rigid. He's trying too hard to focus but he just can't. His leg is tapping furiously beneath the table, he's biting the inside of his cheek, his hand is running through his hair every couple minutes. Things just aren't computing like how he wants them to and he hates it. His pride is a double-edged sword here, jealously is Jayce's thing. He thinks he is leagues above it and he gets frustrated with himself when he feels that green sickness in his heart.

☽He would be the type to address it head on. Once again, he's very analytical. He will tell you what exactly got him upset, why exactly it upset him, be very clear that he isn't blaming or upset at you, and silently hope you go overboard with affection for the next few weeks for the sake of his ego. After he does, he likes to ignore it even happened. Him? Jealous? You must have him confused with another ridiculously attractive, impaired, Czech-accented man. Jealous isn't even in his very extensive vocabulary, he has no idea when or why you dreamed of this completely fictitious scenario. He wouldn't try and gaslight you that it never happened, but he is petty enough to get selective hearing when it comes to mentions of it

For the first time since...ever, Viktor is home before the sun goes down. To say it catches you off guard is an understatement, so unused to the doorknob jiggling before the wee hours of the morning, you had a knife in your hand before you heard his keys in the door. You had been making dinner, and the smell alone makes his heart skip a beat. He hardly ever gets a warm dinner and for a minute, he deeply regrets being in his lab all the time. He slides off his shoes and loosens his tie as he pads over to you in the kitchen, wrapping one hand around your waist and the other gripping the counter for support. "You're home early.", you chirp, turning around to face him to peck his lips. "I was just making dinner, you want a taste?" Though he would never say no to that, you already have the spoon to his lips with a hand under to catch anything that might fall before he can even answer. He indulges, of course, and as the warm liquid soothes his throat, he hates that lab even more. Soup is one thing; but warm soup is to die for. "It's delicious, tchotchke." You smile as you turn back around. "Any reason you're home so early." He looks back the new ceiling fan you called Jayce over to put up and lets out a sardonic chuckle. He understands why you called him; he'd need to get on a ladder to put it up and have to abandon his cane for however long it took to hold the thing up and take care of the wiring. He wouldn't be able to balance himself and if he came down, the fan was coming down with him, probably on top of him. And yet, he still would've rather done it himself than you call Jayce to do it. "Yes, but it's admittedly a very stupid reason." You cannot fathom this. You remove the pot from the stove and onto a folded cloth on your counter and desert the stove. "Did something happen?" And he can't handle the look of concern on your face over something he knows to be trivial. "It's just that..." when he realizes he can't put it off any longer, he sighs. "I got jealous of Jayce." Had it not been for the serious look on your face, you would've burst into laughter. Those words had never fallen out of his mouth in that order before. "I know it's absurd, but it started when he put the fan up and it bothered me more than it should. I don't like that there are some things I can't do around the house, and it's been this way my whole life, but it's different with him. He's just always "the guy" and I hate the thought of him being "the guy" to you. It's irrational and a leap in logic, I know, but I hate it." And even better than pity, you just smile at him. In a way it's better that you want to laugh at him, he wants to laugh at him too. The thought of Jayce replacing him is maybe even more of an impossibility for you than it is for him. "So, next time I should just call a guy." He chuckles. "Yes, please."

☼Mel☼

☼I feel like she would be very calm about her jealousy, but also have a slight inclination to anger, albeit a silent one. She doesn't fear the betrayal of a potential cheating, but rather the embarrassment. If she were to see you get too chummy with someone, rather than approach you, she would watch from afar to see what you'd do. This is also a big reason why she usually doesn't take action herself; you never disappoint her when it comes to letting people know you're taken.

☼She is a bit clingier when jealous, but more than that she would insist on doing more couple things together. If she feels it is not known enough, she will make it known that the two of you are together. This often means gifts like expensive jewelry that only she could afford you, a new outfit that conveniently matches with one of hers, or even just letting you borrow bags or earrings of hers. It's her way of scenting you almost. She's too classy to try and "stake her claim" in a more showy way, so she does it in a more inconspicuous way.

Waking up alone wasn't something you were completely unused to. Mel was a very busy woman, and you were content with the nights you had together and rare mornings. These mornings were made extra bearable when you woke to a box on your nightstand, wrapped in a silk ribbon with a note in your girlfriend's handwriting slipped under the bow. 'From my heart, to my darling', it read, a lipstick mark beneath where she had signed her name with an elegant flick of her wrist. Perhaps just as eager to be opened as you were to open it, the ribbon fell loose as you gently picked up the box. It was too small to be a dress and too large to be a ring but large enough to contain maybe a fancy watch or a necklace, but judging by her unusually clingy demeanor last night, you had a feeling you could pretty accurately guess what was inside the ornate jewelry box. Unsurprisingly, within it lay a gold and pearl necklace, pearls that must’ve been rare due to their black hue rather than their usually pale pearlescent coloring. The chain felt light in your hand, the heaviest part sinking into your palm as you stared at. Your first initial and an M. No matter which way it was taken, the M to be her first name or her last, the possessive message was clear, not that you minded. Mels smile was bright when she saw you for the first time that day, and even brighter when she saw what decorated your neck. She excused herself from the councilmember she was talking to before walking over to you, practically gliding on air. She takes your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist then your knuckles then pulls you by your hand into her. "I take it you're enjoying your gift?" Your hand still in hers, she spins you, taking you in at all angles for the first time that day. "It's beautiful, but I can't help but wonder what inspired the decision." She knows you know exactly how she works, and she doesn't mind admitting she's jealous. "Am I wrong to give my pretty girl a gift?", she says, mocking the comment you received last night. She rolls her eyes and her face gives away her impending rant. "Am I wrong to give a pretty girl a compliment? I still can't believe he said that to you last night. He only did it to piss me off, you know." You bite your lip to hide your laughter, but it eventually slips from you. "I hope I'm more entertaining than Salo was last night." She can't even feign annoyance, not with the sound of your laughter filling her ears and her name around your neck. She laughs herself, with how much the two of you talk shit about the man, you'd think anything he did could never affect her, but she had been biting her tongue since last night. "Shall I list to you all the ways you're better than Salo?" She waves the idea off nonchalantly. "No, my darling, I should hope I never need an ego boost that desperately."

☼You would definitely get jealous far more often than she does. She's gorgeous, smart, well spoken, rich and affluent, and perfection embodied in a person, there is much to be jealous of. Especially as someone who is on the council where part of the job is being great at sweet talk, I feel like you would get your feelings hurt sometimes. You catch more flies with honey, and she may be the sweetest honey there is. She does tease you for your jealousy though, she finds it utterly adorable.

☼She wouldn't allow you to be jealous long. She is very good at reading you and your emotions, she seems to always know exactly how you're feeling. You couldn't even hide it from her if you tried, she'll always find a way to corner you and help you talk your feelings through. She tries very hard to make sure that you can never question who she loves the most.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #arcane x you #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #mel arcane #mel x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane headcanon

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cutiefulism · 11 days ago

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i’m a dog, i’m a mutt ▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼ caleb , lads

✦ ~ 1.1k wc, german shepard!caleb x reader, fluff, caleb n reader both being a little crazy abt each other, this wasnt meant to be so long (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) but possible smutty pt2?????

you don't even get one shoe on your foot before you hear the familiar, false lightness of caleb’s voice from behind you, irritation brewing just below the surface.

“where ya goin’?”

a sigh blows past your lips. you've been trying to find a cure for caleb’s, err. . problem for the past three days, and each time you attempt to leave the house, he's there to reel you back in with a pout and a grumble, big, dark ears flat against his skull.

sometimes, when you're really stubborn, he just drags you towards him with his evol, locking you in his big arms where you are meant to be and shoving his face against yours.

his hearing has gotten aggravatingly good.

you slowly turn to face him, giving yourself a few extra seconds to smooth the guilty wince from your face. “caleb, you know you can't leave the house like this. won't it be awkward to explain to your subordinates that you now have fluffy ears and a fluffier tail?”

the strict, cold colonel of the farspace fleet turned adorable, helpless puppy. what a headline.

his head cocks to the side. “they won't say anything.”

they know better than to say anything. just because he's soft with you doesn't mean that same kindness extends to everyone else. you've witnessed it first hand, and, honestly?

it's a little hot.

maybe you're just a freak, but it's nice to have that warm, gentle bit of caleb reserved just for you. no one else gets to taint it. not that you'd let that happen, anyway.

“that's. .” you bite your lip. “that's true, but that's not the entire point. this,” you gesture to him with a toss of your hand, and his brows furrow, “whatever it is that's happened to you, clearly has other side effects. you literally barked the other day.”

gotcha.

that makes caleb stiffen, his eyes locked on you as heat tints his cheeks pink, and you can't help a cheeky grin. his bark was pretty cute — a deep, firm, sharp noise that was directed to the poor guy who delivered y'all's pizza.

“that was an accident,” he says with a cough. “a-and only a one time thing.”

you kiss your teeth, still grinning, and he doesn't even let those words that he just knows will be teasing get out. “i’m serious! you see i haven't barked or growled since, right?”

he's had to actively resist the urge to, but you don't need to know that.

in a few short strides, he crosses the small distance between you, his arms looping around your waist and tugging you to his chest, big tail happily swishing behind him. it might be a bit harder for him to hide his emotions thanks to this transformation, but it's not impossible.

nothing is impossible.

well, besides him not loving you. that's very much so impossible.

“c'moooon,” he whines, and you damn your stupidly weak resolve right now. he shouldn't look so. . cute.

big, violet eyes peer down at you, plush mauve lips pulled down into a gentle pout, and his dark brows are practically knitted together.

to be quite frank, caleb looks pathetic.

but both he and you know that you like pathetic.

“i’ll be fine. you can trust me. always.”

you hum, and that mischievous grin melts into something more contemplative. “‘s not that i don't trust you, it's just. .”

“just what?” a pause, and then that wet puppy look is gone from his face, his signature smirk taking its place. “oh. ohhhhh. you don't want anyone else to see me like this. that's what this is about.”

. . .

“what?” your jaw goes slack, something like embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck, and caleb can just see the idea worming its way into your vulnerable little mind and taking root.

perfect.

you shake your head, and he only chuckles. “that's not true! i just don't want people bothering you in public! wouldn't you be annoyed if people kept coming up to you, asking to stroke your tail or scritch your ears?”

you're so obvious, it's both infuriating and adorable.

infuriating because — despite him informing you numerous times that he knows you better than anyone, even better than you know yourself — you still continue to hide things from him.

adorable because you look so pretty and lively all fired up, like a firecracker in the dead of a summer night.

“no, no. you're the only one who would be annoyed,” he says, and his hand travels up to gently pinch your cheek. “what have i told you about lyin’, pipsqueak?”

you groan and shove his hand away, but the burning in your face tells him all he needs to know. “i’m not lying!”

caleb’s hand simply moves to your thighs, and then he's hoisting you up with a grunt, thick arm situated underneath your ass. “you sure? your voice is gettin’ all squeaky. if i remember correctly, that's a definite sign you're lying.”

the smell of your perfume graces his nose, and he can't help but let out a tiny, content sigh. you smell so good — mostly your perfume, probably some gourmand scent, with just a hint of his own musk and soap. he'd prefer you smell a lot more like him, but that'll come in due time.

he's waited for years to have you — it won't hurt for him to wait some more.

your arms, like they have a mind of their own, hook around caleb’s neck, despite the almost petulant frown on your face. “i’m not a little kid anymore. and even if i was lying, which i’m not, that wouldn't be a tell!”

he snorts. “i think you're overestimating how much you've changed. you still act like the little girl who'd come crying to her gege because someone knocked over your sandcastle.”

your gaze narrows into sharp daggers. “and you still act like some flirtatious know-it-all!”

at that, caleb shifts you closer, rubbing his face into your neck with a soft smile. a flirtatious know-it-all, huh?

oddly enough, he's never flirted with anyone but you.

his lips press a soft, almost reverent kiss on your pulse. “for you to be so smart, you sure can be dense, can't ya?” he mutters, and his voice is swallowed up by your skin.

caleb would never betray you like that. no, you're all he wants, all he needs. no other girl will fill that crevice in his heart, something perfectly carved in the shape of you.

he pulls his face back, and his soft eyes meet your angry ones. cute. “i’ll be your flirtatious know-it-all for the evening, how ‘bout that?” and when you only continue to glare at him, he sweetens the deal.

“i’ll even let you touch my ears.” as if on cue, they twitch, looking fluffier and softer than ever.

. . hm. that antidote can wait a little longer, can't it?

sweats.

#ᰔ — fic #lads #lads x reader #lads fanfic #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #lnds #lnds caleb #lads fluff #lnds fluff #love and deepspace #lnds x reader

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d1stalker · 7 months ago

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The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route.

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear.

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly.

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind.

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute.

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck?

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of?

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back.

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it.

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice.

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye.

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you.

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness.

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made.

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive.

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found.

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that.

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

Note

Rafe taking care of Reader who goes through a depressive episode. She’s feeling like she is a burden and feels like everyone would be happier with her gone. Maybe things are pretty new between them, only gone on a few dates so she obviously (like most) isn’t going to tell him anything and doesn’t think she matters to a guy she has gone on a few dates with anyway, so she just stops responding to his texts

a/n: thank you for requesting!⭐️ i hope i wrote it appropriately to what you requested 🙂💗part 2 is up!

the first time rafe noticed something was off, it was subtle—just a missed text here and there. maybe a delayed reply. nothing unusual at first. he probably told himself you were busy. everyone has those days where life gets hectic.

but when hours stretched into days and your replies went from short to nonexistent, he started to feel that quiet pull of worry.

“hey, you okay?” he texted the day before, after his third unanswered message.

you saw it pop up on your screen. his name glowed against the darkness of your room, and for a moment, your heart ached with the idea of answering. but then the thought crept in.

he’s just being polite.he barely knows you.he’s probably relieved you stopped answering anyway.

so you let the screen go dark.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. it wasn’t like you two were serious. you’d only gone on a handful of dates, and even though every moment with rafe had been sweet and effortless, there was no way someone like him could actually care.

you’d been wrong about people before.

the weight in your chest had only grown heavier over the past few weeks. even getting out of bed felt impossible some days, let alone pretending to be okay for someone like rafe cameron. so, you didn’t bother. you shut your phone off, buried it under a pillow, and let the world fade into static.

the knock at your door startled you.

at first, you thought it might’ve been a neighbor or a delivery driver, someone just passing through. but then it came again, louder this time, more deliberate.

“y/n?”

you froze, your breath catching as his voice carried through the door.

“it’s rafe.”

you stared at the door like it might open on its own. the last thing you wanted was to face him, especially like this. but hearing his voice made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i, uh…” he hesitated, the sound of him shifting his weight audible through the thin walls. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

you stayed silent, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. but deep down, you knew rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to just walk away.

“you don’t have to let me in,” he added, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “just… let me know you’re alright.”

you clenched your fists, trying to will the lump in your throat away. how were you supposed to explain that you weren’t alright? that you hadn’t been alright in weeks?

the knock came again, gentler this time.

“i’m not leaving until i know you’re okay,” he said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice. only concern.

you sat frozen for what felt like forever, listening to the silence on the other side of the door. maybe he’d given up. maybe he was walking away right now, realizing this wasn’t worth his time.

but then your phone buzzed from where it lay buried under the pillow.

you hesitated before reaching for it, your hands trembling as you unlocked the screen.

rafe <3: hey, i’m outside your place. not trying to bother you, i just wanted to check in. if you need space, i get it. just let me know you’re alright, okay?

your chest ached as you read the words. there was nothing demanding about them, nothing that made you feel guilty or trapped. he wasn’t asking for anything except to know you were safe.

and that made it worse somehow.

because you weren’t.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

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lunajay33 · 8 months ago

Text

Waiting🖤

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about the future until suddenly the friends I adored most started relationships and left me in the past as if our friendship never even mattered, like their boyfriend was the most important thing

My sister and I use to be close as kids but when she moved away with our mom and rarely visited me and dad, who she regularly called Charlie, we grew apart leaving me feeling like I lost all my friends and my sister, after a while I grew depressed and I never wanted to leave the house, dad grew concerned and after many absent calls from school he allowed me to start home schooling myself and my grades have never been better

Most nights it was just me and Charlie some days I’d get the courage to go down to the reserve hang out on the beach with Leah, Seth and Jake, sometimes I’d go for hikes in the forest behind the house just to clear my head, but other than that I’d stay in my room listening to music, reading the books dad would bring home for me, and doing school work

That’s how life was for so many years, it was routine and it never bothered me and dad loved having me around, after Bella and mom left he was so broken and with my help, even as a little girl, I pulled him out of that deep dark hole and he became that Charlie that joked around and made me smile

But then dad got the call that Bella was moving back for the rest of highschool since mom would be traveling with Phil for baseball, hopeful that I could reconnect with my sister again

Dad and I picked out a new bed spread for her hoping she’d love it, and he even let me pick out a new book as a thank you for helping him out with getting everything ready for her arrival, after a few days it was time for dad to go pick Bella up from the airport in port angeles, I was a nervous wreck which was crazy I mean she’s my sister why should I be nervous

Finally the familiar sheriff cruiser pulled up in the drive way, I walked out the door with an umbrella quickly shuffling over to Bella to cover her from the rain knowing how she favoured the warm dry weather, complete opposite of me

“Welcome home Bella!” I smiled as we walked back inside as dad got her bags following closely behind

She shook off her coat and placed her little cactus down on the counter

“You’ve grown so much you’re a year younger but you’re already taller than me” she said as she hugged me

“Come on bells we’ll show you your room!” Dad said as he walked up the stairs with her bags

She settled in for the rest of the day until it was supper time, I set out the table and dished up our meal, dads game playing in the background as we ate

“So are you excited for school on Monday?” I asked

“Not really but atleast I’ll have you there”

“What? No im homeschooled remember”

“Well…..” dad drawled out

“Dad what did you do?” My heart was racing now at the implication

“I thought since Bella’s back now it would be good for you to get out there again, you need some experiences honey”

“But you know I have no one there, no one wants to be friends with me we’ve been over this”

“You might make new friends honey, give give it a chance for your old man” I sighed slumping back in my chair trying to wrap my head around having to socialize again

“Atleast you’ll be with me, dad said since your grades are so good you got bumped up a grade and can have some certain classes together, depending on our courses” that settled my anxiety a little

Bella and dad cleaned up from dinner as I sat out on the porch, in desperate need for fresh air to do its magic, only 2 more days and I’ll be back in a school again, who knows maybe some new kids have arrived and aren’t too set in their groups yet

Monday came quickly and I was a ball of nerves, I glanced in the mirror as made sure my hair was just the way I wanted, wearing a casual outfit, simple flared black leggings, a dark rich blue longsleeve with my old worn out dark brown carhartt jacket, quickly spraying my vanilla perfume

I walked down stairs to meet Bella in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple as she picked up her backpack from the table

“Are you ready to go?” She asked

“Almost can I make a tea quickly?” She nodded and I quickly wiped together a chai tea latte, grabbing my lunch from the fridge and meeting her in the truck dad had gotten for us but since I didn’t have my license, seeing as I never needed one before now, she would be driving us

The drive to school was calming, hearing the steady rain fall against the windshield, pulling into the parking lot everyone stared until we got out, I kept my eyes down as Bella led me to the schools main office

“Okay here’s your schedule, we have math together at the end of the day, the bells about to ring so I gotta head to world history are you good to find your way to chemistry?”

“Oh ummm yeah I’ll be fine”

“Okay see you at lunch” she smiled gently before she left down the hall

Looking at my schedule I memorized the room number hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find, turning the corner I rammed into what felt like a brick wall, dropping my books I look infront of me to see the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen, his eyes a golden amber, hair as dark as night and his skin as pale as snow

“Sorry about that, I haven’t seen you around before” he said soothingly as he handed me the books that had momentarily scattered the floor, not even realizing he had picked them up, too busy oogling him I suppose

“Oh yeah I’m just re-enrolling here again, just trying to find my class” he looked down at my schedule a striking smile adorning his face

“Come this way gorgeous, got the same class” walking along the mostly bare hallways I noticed his gentle glide, I’ve never seen such a…..well such a perfect human, obviously I was way out of my league if I could think he’d ever be interested in me, I mean I’m plain and simple what would he ever see in me, best I stay in my lane, but dad did want me to make friends so that couldn’t hurt….right?

We got to the classroom and the teacher assigned us to sit together, the class went by pretty boring, every now and then I’d take glances at Emmett and I swear he did the same but he was probably just looking at someone else, moments like this made me wish I was a beautiful as my sister, she never had a problem with guys wanting her, they basically drooled over her, even if she never acted on any offers she was still wanted

It felt like I was a living ghost most days, no one noticed me anywhere I’d go, a big reason I wanted to be homeschooled, now I’m thrown back into this miserable place, I’ll bet by lunch time Bella with have a table full of new friends while I sit alone, not even a second glance from anyone

Lunch time rolled around and as I entered the cafeteria I searched for Bella and just as I guessed she was surrounded with bright smiles, excited to get to know her, she glanced my way and I waved hoping she’d wave me over to sit but she just gave a half assed smile and got back to talking with her new friends, I felt my heart rip at that, thinking things would be different this time with her here but I guess I was wrong

I found an empty table near the windows and made myself comfortable for another lonely lunch, I pulled out my bag from my backpack but my appetite was lost and I had no desire to eat so I just pushed my lunch to the side and looked out the window just wanting to go home

{Emmett’s POV}

I couldn’t get her out of my head, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and her blood sings to me, when she bumped into me in the hallway I felt my whole world shift, she didn’t talk much but just being near her felt right

Lunch came, my least favourite part of the day, having to pretend for an hour, I glanced around the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of my mate again, my eyes landed on her sat alone looking glum a few tables down, the others followed my gaze and smiled knowingly

“Who’s she?” Rosalie asked

“I think she’s my mate”

“Her thoughts are overwhelming loud” Edward stated

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously

“She’s not the happiest girl, I can hear how depressed she is, how unwanted she feels”

“I can feel how broken her heart is” Jasper added

This has to be the worst feeling knowing the one I’m suppose to love unconditionally and she is quite perfect in my eyes, has been broken and feels unloved

I got up from the table and made my way to her sliding in the seat across from her, her eyes were so glazed over with sadness she didn’t even realize I sat down

{Normal pov}

“So how’s your first day?” I jumped snapping out of my thoughts noticing Emmett is sat across from me

“Oh sorry I didn’t see you, ummm today has been fine I guess, thanks again for helping me earlier”

“It’s not problem, umm I was wondering maybe if you’re not too busy this weekend if you’d wanna hang out?” My heart raced at this

“Really? You wanna hang out with me?”

“Yeah of course, who would wanna spend time with the most beautiful girl in the school” his smile warmed my heart but quickly faded at a realization

“Is this a prank, because if it is it’s cruel” I said as my bottom lip wobbled

“No what? I would never do something like that I really wanna get to know you, so how about after school on Friday I’ll meet you in the parking lot and we can go do something?”

“Okay……sure id really like that” his face beamed with excitement

“Perfect it’s a date then gorgeous”

This felt surreal there’s no way there wasn’t a catch here, how could someone wanna spend their free time with me, but like Charlie said it doesn’t hurt to try, I just hope this doesn’t break my heart more

Part 2

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kazrz · 11 days ago

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TEN YEARS TOO LATE ⛥ sirius black

ten years ago, bellatrix lestrange’s child was thrown onto your doorstep without warning. ten years later, you’re not sure if you’re living the life you’d wanted — but you do know that mattheo is your son, and no one else’s. [1.6k words]

TAGS: sirius is harry’s godfather, reader is a single mum to mattheo riddle, hurt/no comfort, angst, lovers to strangers/borderline enemies ngl, voldemort died after the first war, reader and sirius are both meanies

🐦‍⬛ — everyone say hi to my baby mattheo! I wrote this fic smiling and all but best believe I’ll never have a child in the future. too much work.

p.s. this fic is inspired by ‘he looks like his father’ by @/marauder-misprint! that fic changed lives and one of them was mine.

“He’s not your kid.”

You’ve endured many offensive questions about Mattheo’s parentage ever since you took him in. They sent you spiralling downward into the deepest depths of your mind, wondering why everyone needed to have their noses in your business. They made you second guess your parenting skills, doubting how you raised Mattheo and whether he truly is the boy you nurtured him to be.

While you weren’t normally so tongue-tied in these situations, it didn’t help that your old, repulsive Hogwarts fling was standing right before you — closer than he’d ever been in more than a decade — confidently claiming that your son wasn’t yours.

It was a huge, fucking relief that the kid had inherited his biological mother’s shamelessness.

Mattheo pushed past only a few irritated students and parents on his way to you. Sirius’ words were as clear as day to him. They ignited a flame that wasn’t known for its swift ceasing.

“Who are you to be the judge of that?” he gritted out, fingers clinging onto yours by habit. You smiled down at him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “Last I remembered Mum telling me, you ditched her after graduation and never reached out. You have no right to even be speaking to her.”

Your son’s words sizzled a hole into your heart. You hadn’t expected him to remember the measly details about a man who was irrelevant in his life. The last time you’d mentioned Sirius, Mattheo was merely five. He’d asked, “Mama, why don’t I have a dad?”

How could you not answer him?

Eighteen years ago, you would have laughed if someone said you’d be a single mother. Sixteen years ago, you would have laughed, along with Sirius, at the prospect of being parents.

Ten years ago, you held in your distaste for children and took in a three-year-old.

And you wouldn’t let the man who’d left your heart in pieces disregard the hard work you’d put in.

Sirius’ dry laugh left you clenching your teeth, hands itching to curl into fists and punch him square in the face. “Stay out of this, kid,” he snapped, not even bothering to glance at Mattheo.

You sent him a right hook straight to his chiseled jaw, hearing a soft crack sound at the impact.

Silence fell over the courtyard like a thick, suffocating blanket, but not before gasps echoed from every corner of the open space. Sirius held trembling fingers to his left jawbone, lips parted in absolute bewilderment. He stared off into the empty space beside Mattheo.

A few rustles sounded as someone shoved past students clad in their black robes. Harry froze, halting just before he ended up in the middle of the ongoing catfight.

A dazed Remus materialised from behind him, eyes widened as he took in the scene.

“YN,” the lanky man rasped, eyes flitting between you and his best mate. Sirius still had his hand pressed to the side of his insolent-looking face, but now he was glaring you down, brows virtually stitched together. “YN, you’re here.”

Mattheo tugged on your arm and you stepped back, the greater distance between you and your ex clearing the haze from your mind. You tried not to roll your eyes at Remus’ quite apparent observation.

“Yes, I am, Lupin.” The edge in your voice gave way to pure rancour, eyes hardening when Sirius righted himself with a groan. You had half the heart not to utter the next few words. “You’re not the only one with a child.”

By now, the prying eyes of passers-by had redirected somewhere else, no longer interested in your dispute with two of the Marauders.

Remus’ gaze lingered on Mattheo — his dark curls, his defined brows, his nose, the scar that marred his cheek intimidatingly. He looked close to nothing like you, save for his body language, graceful yet sharp, and his clothing choices, casual yet sophisticated.

Even if the kid wasn’t your blood, it was painfully blatant that he was raised by you.

The professor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Riddle’s yours?” The question was stupid, but he was too dumbfounded to think of another one.

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. You relished in seeing him wince at the pain that struck his jaw. Mattheo, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to rip him apart.

“You might wanna stop there, Moony, or she’ll have you puking out your guts,” Sirius sneered, the unfamiliar sound sending a tremble down Harry’s spine. His godfather had never been so agitated before. It might’ve just been your presence that irked him, given the woeful tone Sirius would adopt whenever he shared stories about your relationship back then.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have someone claim your son isn’t really yours, would you? Because Harry isn’t your son. He’s your dead best friend’s son.”

A brief flicker of hurt crossed Sirius’ grey eyes. It tugged at your heartstrings, but you shoved the feeling aside. You had no compassion for him. He’d shattered you — how could you possibly go back to him?

Mattheo turned to you with a plea in his eyes. While he normally would contribute with some snarky comments of his own, he didn’t want you getting into a brawl. Especially when this was the topic at hand.

“Mum,” he tried, voice firm but holding a semblance of vulnerability he’d only ever show around you. “Don’t do this. He’s not worth it.”

At that, Sirius whipped out his wand and jabbed at your chest with the tip. Mattheo almost broke the man’s ribs, but you pushed him aside before he could get caught in the altercation.

The former Gryffindor looked nearly like a rabid dog with the way he snarled and growled, wand tip digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Not worth it? That’s what I was to you? What you told your son I was?” His voice sank deeper than the depths of the ocean. Harry didn’t recognise the man who looked like his godfather.

You gripped his wand tight, nearly snapping it in two if Sirius hadn’t yanked it away harshly. “The moment you abandoned me on my own doorstep, you became a stranger!” you raged, keeping your volume in check before another crowd formed. “When you didn’t call, or even send a bloody letter, I gave up waiting on you. What could I do? Cry all night because you weren’t there to hug me? Trudge around my house blindfolded because everything reminded me of you? I knew better than that. I moved away, and you weren’t there to stop me. So why are you here now, claiming my kid isn’t mine and acting offended that he thinks you’re of no worth to me?”

Mattheo held his breath when you spat the words you’d been holding in for years. He knew you were tenacious and resolute in all your glory, but he’d never witnessed you so livid. He had little to no knowledge of how Sirius had left you so wounded and exposed, though now, your words began assembling the puzzle pieces he’d collected over the years.

He noticed whenever you stopped for a moment, looking longingly at an object that meant nothing to him, but a lot more to you. You would sometimes, subconsciously, style his hair differently when it grew too long. Right now, as he glanced between you and Sirius with his waves, he realised why.

“Seriously, Sirius?” He heard the crack in your voice when your ex didn’t respond. Out of guilt or fury, he didn’t know. “You made your decision, and I have made mine.”

You shoved the dark-haired man off of you, causing him to stumble backwards and lose his footing. Remus darted forwards, barely managing to catch Sirius in his arms, sparing him from the unforgiving impact of the ground. Hushed whispers were exchanged as the latter righted himself, sending you a glare while holding his injured jaw.

It was only after a quiet, indignant huff that you turned to your son and placed benign hands on his shoulders.

Leaning down slightly, you brushed a stray hair away from Mattheo’s forehead, smiling as tenderly as you could. “Are you ready to leave, Theo?” you murmured sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous bite. The sudden shift in tone induced whiplash.

Mattheo flashed a charming grin that reminded Remus of your own. Whatever Sirius had said about the Slytherin boy not being your son was possibly the most erroneous statement ever uttered.

You mirrored his expression, though yours was gentler and didn’t reach your eyes. Your son’s enthusiasm flickered for a moment, but when you stood to your full height and led him away, Mattheo began cheerfully rambling about the recent happenings at Hogwarts and his own escapades.

Sirius couldn’t believe that he’d just seen you for the first time in more than a decade. He especially couldn’t fathom the fact that it had gone terribly.

He shouldn’t have said Mattheo wasn’t your kid. That isn’t something you say to your ex you’ve been thinking about for sixteen years after you ditched her. Now that he’d put it that way, he realised how horribly he had acted towards you and your son.

Your son. It was a foreign term to him, principally when it came to you. The you he’d known in Hogwarts had an unyielding repugnance for children. But, he figured, you were really only averse to the toddlers who didn’t listen. You must have raised Mattheo well.

“That was awful,” Harry quipped, raising an eyebrow at his godfather. Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face and wincing when his jaw decided it was too much.

He sighed, brows stitched together. “I know.” But what did it matter?

Remus patted him on the back. “If you’re lucky, you might see her again,” he reassured his friend, though skepticism snuck between his words.

“If she even wants to see me again.”

Harry had a feeling that you didn’t.

navigation ⛥ sirius black

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #sirius black x you #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #the marauders

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