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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

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Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

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womanmanipulator · 7 months ago

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prove your love

spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

synopsis: lila gives your boyfriend heart eyes. when he’s assigned to stay over at her place you’re pissed. when spencer comes home, he makes sure to show his love for you. SMUT!!! minors dni

warnings: dom/sub, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), piv, various positions, overstimulation, pet names such as trouble, sweetheart, love, etc. very cheesy.

you slip your heels off in the hall with an aggravated huff. ‘look on the bright side, the case is over.’ your brain tries to tell you but the many sights and experiences of lila disrespecting you and glaring at you wasn’t going to leave your brain anytime soon. meanwhile, spencer got the opposite treatment, compliments, heart eyes, and lingering handshakes the entire time. she even slipped him her number, that little—

“hey,” spencer says, knocking you out of your thoughts. he can tell your brains conjuring something up. he can practically see the cogs turning in your head. “what’s got you so worked up?” he asks, taking a step towards you. his hands settle on your hips then travel to your lower back. he smiles down at you.

“nothing.” you dismiss, light and airy. trying to act unbothered. “why do you think i’m mad?” you question back, a little too defensive for your liking. “are you asking me to profile you?” he grins. you don’t get the chance to speak before he starts, “for starters, you practically ripped your heels off and threw them, you’re all tense, your fists were balled up and i can tell your thinking hard about something.” he exaggerates.

“you’re wrong because i am perfectly fine.” you state matter of factly. brushing his hands off you and walking to the bedroom. he follows after you. “holding in emotions, specifically anger, can have detrimental effects on one’s mental health. the constant internal struggle to suppress emotions can lead to even more stress, anxiety and even depression.” spencer explains. you just hum in response, searching in your closet for something comfortable, your mind doesn’t stop running about stupid lila though. he watches you. it wasn’t uncommon, he loved to observe you. most of the time it was just to see your pretty face while you were in thought but other times he liked to study your behavior and learn your routines. spencer liked to do it with you.

“you’re staring,” you comment. “i can’t help it.” he flirts. “oh please, did you tell lila that too today?” you let slip. you flush. glad you aren’t face to face with spencer right now. “that’s what this is about?” he chuckles. “cmere,” he says. you stumble over to the bed and he pulls you onto his lap. “you know i love you right?” he says. you nod. not looking at him. “so much, like i am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you, or whatever bella said.” he makes a twilight reference. you were the one who forced him to watch it. you giggle a little, meeting his eyes. he smiles. “there’s my girl.” he murmurs. your heart swoons. his hands settle on your waist and he leans in. you kiss, it’s almost like a breath of fresh air. when he pulls away, still keeping close he speaks. “i think i need to prove how much i love you, hmm?” he hums. “you don’t need to.” you mumble. “but i want to, please?” he pleads. you don’t protest for long. “okay.. if you must.” you giggle. he smiles. he’s so pretty you feel like your going to explode.

as he places you on your back, unbuttoning your shirt, he starts to spit out another fact. “did you know men are more jealous of sexual infidelity than emotional?” he asks. “women are actually the opposite, they get more jealous with ‘emotional cheating’ than sexual.” he takes his time, you always loved how smart he was. it turned you on.

“i wasn’t jealous,” you say. “oh really?” he snorts. slipping off your shirt. “yeah.” you say. he instructs you to lift your hips so he can slide your pants off. “mhmm..” he says. eyes focused on your body, he’s too distracted to make a smart comment. “she was pretty, i guess.” you try to say. lila was gorgeous. he just chuckles and shakes his head. not bothering to comment. he dips down and kisses you. nose accidentally bumping against yours and teeth clashing. it was messy, just how you liked it. “what was that thing about kissing and shaking hands?” you ask, just to hear him talk.

“the number of pathogens transferred from just a single handshake is staggering. it’s safer to kiss,” he says into the skin of your neck. “that’s interesting, tell me more.” you smile. he groans. “i can tell you all about it later, can’t i just take care of my baby now?” he smiles. “baby? what happened to trouble?” you grin. “you are trouble,” he sighs. lovingly of course. you giggle as he kisses down from your neck to your collarbone, then unbuckles your bra without struggle. pulling it off. he trails down to your tummy, pressing little kisses here and there. making you antsy. he reaches the spot you need him most and smiles into your skin as you squirm a little. “patience, trouble.” he says. he plants a firm kiss on your hipbone and pulls your panties down with one hand. “you’re so pretty,” he smiles. eyes flickering to your face. “all mine, hmm?” he hums and you nod enthusiastically. he chuckles and thumbs experimentally at your clit.

you press your hips up into his touch, leaning into it. chasing that feeling. he smirks, inserting two fingers slowly. he paws at that spongy spot within your walls. you let out a quiet moan and spencer doesn’t deem it good enough, he starts punching at the spot. abusing it almost. this pulls another moan out of you and he speeds up the movements on your clit. you almost see heaven as you arch your back, eyes rolling back. he leans down, attaching his lips on your clit and sucking harshly. thank god you weren’t standing because you would’ve doubled over with how strong your orgasm was. you try to get the words out but only pant. spencer can tell, “gonna cum, trouble?” he asks. then continues his attack on the bundle of nerves. the coil in your belly snaps, climaxing with his name on your lips.

the sound of your slick fills the room as spencer works you through your organism. eyes trained on your pussy. his fingers are pulled out, given a quick lick and suddenly his mouth is on you. lapping and drinking up your release like a man starved. “spence, wait— gimme a minute-“ moan.

your begs fall on deaf ears as he’s absolutely lost in you. there’s no pulling him out. you reach your hand down and bury it in his hair. pressing your hips into the bed to escape the overstimulation. trying to tug him off, he doesn’t listen though. moaning into you when you pull on his hair. the vibrations make you even more sensitive before, his nose brushes up against your clit as two strong hands come to hold you down on either side.

you moan, tears pricking in your eyes from the overstimulation. everything’s magnified by 10. the obscene sounds of your pussy fill the room as your poor clit is abused, spencer’s tongue prodding into you, milking you for everything you have to offer. the familiar hear fills your belly and you can feel the coil start to unwind. “spence—“ you sob. cumming again. riding against his face. you can feel that bastard smirk against you as he greedily laps up your release. “you’re okay,” he coaxs. finally pulling off of you. he presses a kiss to your mound then pulls himself up, he kisses your cheek. then wipes the stray tears on your cheek.

“hi pretty,” he says with a smile. your eyes meet his and you smile, a little dazy. “you have something on your face.” you say, remaints of cum. “do i?” he chuckles. he wipes it off with the back of his hand and kisses you. you can taste yourself on his tongue. “love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips. you don’t get the chance to respond before he’s kissing you again. a little tongue slipping in as he gets carried away. he messily kisses the corner of your mouth, then latches onto your neck. he works at his zipper, multitasking.

begrudgingly, he pulls away from you, slipping down his pants and kicking them off haphazardly. you tug at his shirt and he takes the hint to pull it off. undoing his tie and throwing it somewhere. when he FINALLY takes his shirt off you get to run your hands along his torso giddily. “y’so pretty,” you mumble. “this isn’t about me, it’s about you, trouble.” he says. slipping off his boxers. his cock slips angrily against his stomach and you almost whine. he leans down and kisses you as he slowly pushes in. the stretch burns but is bearable. “i know. its okay,” he whispers. he presses to the hilt, nudging against your cervix. you feel full, his hand slithers down and presses against your lower belly. “mmphh.” you whimper against his lips. he devours the sound and keeps his lips on yours as he starts to thrust in and out of you. pulling his head back to see your face every so often as the tip nudges against that sweet spot. it’s torturous how slow he’s going. you’re so overstimulated, tears start falling out of your eyes.

he smiles down at you, picking up the pace a little. his face contorts and he lets out a moan. you involuntarily clench at that and it punches out another sound. “trouble— can’t keep doing that.” he slurs. the wet sounds of him shoving your slick out of you fill the room as your hips collide. teeth and noses brush together messily and he’s practically devouring you. everything’s happening so fast. before you know it you’re coming again, his name recited on your lips. he works you through it, slamming into you with a feverish pace. you constrict around him and he’s not long after you, pressing himself as far as he can into you and coming. he’s whining,

you pant, he’s collapsed ontop of you. buried in your neck. tears roll down your face. “good girl, good job. taking me so well.” he praises breathily. taking? “..taking..?” you say. “don’t you mean took?”

“we aren’t done.” he lifts himself up from your shoulder, pushing his glasses up. the both of your climax leaks around his dick and spills out of you slowly. “i can’t!” you start to cry as he pulls out, he presses your knees to your chest and shoves himself back in. so much for catching your breath. “you will,” he says softly. beginning to thrust in and out of you, he’s so deep you feel it in your stomach. “that’s it, my good girl huh?” he praises into your neck, a pang of arousal shoots through your body and you can feel yourself get wetter. “spence—“ “none of the whining, you can take it.” he says. he bites at your jawline. you moan loudly. everything feels so good, it’s too much. he reaches down and starts to rub figure eights into your clit gently, a contrast to the brutal pace he had going. “there ya go, taking me so well.” he murmurs, pulling his teeth off and kissing gently. “ah- i- gonna.. cum.” you force out. almost forgetting how to talk. “let go baby.” he says. your back arches, eyes rolling back, clinging to him as if he was the one keeping your grounded. he follows after, shooting cum into you with a whimper and a “nngh.”

it’s unreal. you see stars.

when you come down from your high, your sat on spencer’s lap, dick still intact. you sob, falling into his shoulder and clinging onto him. “i can’t spence.” you sniffle from the overstimulation. if you had to come again you’d probably scream. you’d also scream though if he pulled out.

“the world record for most female orgasms in an hour is a hundred and ah- fuck, thirty six” he says as you clench around him. “i think you can.” he smirks. you push his glasses up.

you bite back, “nerd.”

that’s it

not proofread

i’m sick asf rn 🥰

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #sub reader #criminal minds fic

2K notes · View notes

areyouwell · 3 months ago

Text

Nyctophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of the dark. Children or adults may have Nyctophobia if they are afraid to be left alone in darkness

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None as of yet, but we'll get there ;)

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: RIGHT FUCKERS ITS TIME. i don't think i've written a fic this long in goddamn years but here we are. DEFO ooc Logan and also timeline what timeline? Kitty is older than the rest of the students cuz i love her and i said so. reader's mutation is currently shadow-walking but that'll develop as we go on so slay boots. also I have no concept of word limits sooooo 9k chapter let's fucking go

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years? Honestly, you couldn’t recall. It felt like it had been forever since ol’ Charlie had sent you travelling the continent. Sure, it had been your idea to try and find mutants before they experience the most traumatic event of their lives, but you didn’t think he’d send you, and certainly not immediately. Though you were glad he did, you didn’t think Scott would make as good an impression as you could.

But, now you were back. Thank fuck. You could finally rest your weary legs and put down your heavy-as-shit bag. And at least now you could work on developing your mutation. Shadow walking. Or at least, it is now. You thought that was the extent of what you could do, just disappear and reappear whenever and wherever there happened to be a shadow cast on the ground. Or on a wall. Or anywhere really. But, Xavier had gently suggested that, perhaps, those shadows could be manipulated one way or another. You wished to fuck you knew how because your bag was all but cutting right through your shoulder.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you took a deep breath, making your way inside. It was nice to notice nothing had changed. The lawn was still neatly mowed, brickwork hadn’t aged a day. It smelt like comfort. It smelt like home. But before you could even knock on the door, at least being courteous enough not to slip through the shadows, the oak burst open and two unidentified arms had wrapped themselves around your neck in one of the most warming hugs you’d ever received, accompanied by a high pitch squeal.

You knew instantly who that would be. Brown hair spilled across her shoulders, smelling faintly of lavender. “Hey Kitty,” you grinned, dropping your bag to return her tight embrace. It truly did feel like forever.

“I’m so happy to see you it’s been years! We thought you were never coming back! Scott thought you’d died and Charles wasn’t telling us, Logan didn’t think you even existed and that we were all lying, Jean thought you’d just got sick of this place and dipped, it was carnage!” She rambled, her deep brown eyes sparkling slightly. You had to take a minute to actually comprehend what the fuck she was saying before your lips split into a broad smile.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m not dead, at least not yet, and I do very much exist and I am not sick of this place despite what Jean may think. And– wait who’s Logan?” Your brain had only just caught up with the fact that Kit had mentioned a name completely unfamiliar to you. Just how long had you been gone?

“Oh, right yeah. A new teacher,” Kitty kept one arm around your shoulder as she guided you back inside, stopping only when you realised your bag was still left discarded by the front door. “He uh, sorta took your position as PE and combat professor… sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic, whilst internally, you couldn’t be more grateful. You always thought you weren’t ever cut out to teach, and whilst you sometimes enjoyed it, you were always too worried about the kids being hurt.

“I’m hurt, a girl’s gone for a year or two and you replace her? What kind of school is this?” you cracked a smile, Kitty’s face morphing from remorse to relief. She really thought you’d be upset? You were touched. “Anyway, what time is it? Where is everyone? I thought classes stopped at–” You were cut off abruptly upon entering the lounge.

“Welcome back!” you covered your face at the chorus of voices, laughing behind your hands before clutching your heart dramatically.

“Christ! You’ve all just knocked five years off my life!” you grinned, faces both familiar and unfamiliar laughing and smiling just to see you.

“They’ve been looking forward to this for days. Ever since rumour of your return started circulating, they’ve been pestering us nonstop for a date. Eventually, someone caved,” You didn’t need to see Scott’s eyes in order to know he was giving Kitty a pointed look behind his glasses. You looked back to see her looking sheepish.

“Yeah well… they can be really persuasive.” She shrugged, taking your bag off your shoulder and placing it out of the way. You sighed at the loss of weight, rolling your joint slightly.

“It’s good to see you,” Scott pulled you in for a brief hug, clapping your back once before pulling back, letting the rest of your friends and pupils make their way over. You were consumed by various arms of embraces, questions about your travels, introductions to new students, reminiscing with old students. It was quite possibly the best moment you’d had since you left. But a face caught your eye at the back of the crowd. A young girl, with the same dark brown hair you remember, only now a streak of brilliant white framed her face.

You made your way over, shuffling through the crowd, clasping hands and shoulders with people you knew before finally getting to her.

“Hey you,” you smiled gently, remembering how timid and easy to scare she used to be. You were caught off guard completely by her sudden bright smile.

“Hey.”

“How long’ve you been here? I didn’t actually think you’d listen to me to be brutally honest with you, thought you’d just shrug it off and continue your own path,” you were relieved to see she had listened to what you’d said two years ago. You’d urged her down this path, to find the school. You’d already known Charles would take her, it was just a matter of her taking herself here.

“Uh… about that…” you’d only seen a smile that sheepish on Kitty. You cocked a brow, head tilting to the side slightly before a hand on your shoulder caused you to whirl. But it was just Ororo. Clearly, your travels had affected you more than you originally thought.

But Storm wasn’t looking at you, you could only see the back of her white hair as she frantically waved at someone through the crowd, beckoning them over.

“Logan!”

Ah, you guess that made sense now.

Whoever you’d expected to walk through the crowd, you threw that image out your mental window the moment you saw him.

Now you understood why he taught combat and PE… he was fucking ripped. White t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. The facial hair was an interesting choice, but you couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. He was very… rugged lumberjack looking.

You placed a hand on your hip, brows raised in intrigue as he made his way over. You don’t think you’d ever seen a grumpier-looking man.

“Logan, this is Phantom,” your eyes slid to Ororo as she used your mutant name.

“Ah, so you do exist,” his voice seemed a perfect match for the rest of him, just as rough and rugged as the worn jeans he was wearing. You nodded, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“Heard there was some debate over that, glad I could put it to rest,” you outstretched your hand for him to shake, something you were surprised he actually did, calloused palm encasing your own.

“Can ya blame me?” He asked with a raised brow, dropping your hand after a beat too long. Clearly unaccustomed to civility, judging from his appearance.

“Guess not. You’re also the son-of-a-bitch that stole my position, right?” You asked, wanting to be a lot more serious than you actually were being, but for some reason, you couldn’t help grinning slightly.

“Language!” Storm elbowed you slightly. Guess you’d forgotten how to behave around the kids too.

Logan held his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you existed,” though he also seemed serious, you thought you could detect something that could be perceived as humour in his hazel eyes. You couldn’t keep up your poorly constructed façade anymore, waving your hand as if to physically clear the air between the two of you.

“I’m kidding, you can keep it. In all honesty, I was never really cut out for it.” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m–”

“She’s being super modest by the way, she rocked as that professor!” Kitty called from the other side of the room, somehow managing to listen to your conversation. You didn’t know how, since the entire welcome party was still chatting way, but you cast her a withering look nonetheless.

“So I’ve heard,” Logan’s eyes slid from Kitty back to you as you scoffed.

“Though, of course, it was purely hypothetical, since I didn’t exist and all.” You teased, gesturing to your very much existing self. You silently triumphed over the fact you managed to drag a small smile out of him, realising that making this man pull any other expression other than irritation was something to be proud of.

You hadn’t realised how completely caught up in the introduction you’d been before you noticed the girl still standing next to you, eyes flicking between you and Logan with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Anyway,” you continued pointedly, “you were saying? So you didn’t come to find this place?” your head tilted again slightly in confusion. “How did you end up here?”

Rogue looked from you to Logan, who’s eyes were still trained on you. You looked between them. “Nope, still confused. How did…?”

“Well, after you found me, I did carry on my own path, which led me to some shady bar where Logan found me,” she explained quietly.

“More you found me but sure.” He shrugged. You could tell there was some kind of bond between them, one you could recognise was only built through trauma. You’d heard a little of what happened with Eric through Charles’ telepathic link, but he always reassured you to continue what you were doing. But you often wondered what could have happened if you’d returned.

“So, you brought her here?” You asked, trying to prompt the story forward. Honestly, you wanted to know how he’d succeeded where you’d failed. You could be incredibly persuasive when you wanted to be, but Rogue was stubborn on another level.

“Me? Nah, didn’t know this place existed at that point.”

“Seems to be a common theme with you,” you couldn’t help the subtle teasing grin spreading across your face, nor your laugh as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Not whilst I’m still breathing,” you winked, before turning your attention back to Rogue and completely missing the way his features shuddered slightly. “So how’d you get here if tall, dark, and broody over here didn’t know about this?”

“Tall, dark, and– what?” He asked, bewildered.

Ororo snorted in amusement, before stepping in. “That would be us. We’d been tracking another mutant, Sabretooth, and he just so happened to be tracking Logan, or so we thought at the time. We found Sabretooth, and these two at the same time. Brought them both back.”

You nodded in understanding, now finally having got through the whole story. Well, maybe not the whole story, you knew there were details you definitely were missing, but at least you got the jist.

“I see. Glad it wasn’t my lack of persuasive skills then. Though I guess a life or death situation isn’t much better. How’s your mutation coming along?” you asked, only now noticing the black, elbow-length gloves she was wearing. Ah.

“Still hard to control, but I’m getting better at it!” She looked genuinely enthusiastic about her mutation, so much so that it almost brought a tear to your eye. When you’d met her two years ago, you didn’t know if she even wanted help. She’d been so lost in her despair and self-loathing that you didn’t think she had long left with the way her mental health was going. So to see her so happy, your throat closed up slightly.

“I’m glad, I really am. You deserve this, Rogue. All of this,” you gestured to the room around, to the friends she’d made, to the haven she’d found.

“Oh, my name’s Marie. Guess I didn’t tell you before.” She shrugged, and you had to laugh to stop yourself from crying.

“Marie it is.” Her story touched your heart, and to see she managed to get her happy ending… fuck you were so close to crying. You had to change the subject before you broke down in front of these people. “Oh hey, is my room still the same? Wouldn’t mind freshening up a little, been a long journey.” Two birds with one stone. You could leave the situation and cry in your bathroom whilst taking a shower so you didn’t smell like the wrong end of a skunk. Perfect!

“Uh…” Storm started.

“About that…” Kitty continued, coming over to stand alongside Storm. You looked between them, before shooting a glance to Logan who seemed to be showing absolutely no remorse.

“Your bed’s real comfy, bub” he smirked, and you gaped.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” both Ororo and Kitty said at the same time, and you winced.

“Fuck, sorry. Shit! Argh!” you gave up, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m not letting any of you off the hook. This is betrayal at its finest! Giving him my position I can handle, but my damn room? That’s shocking behaviour from the both of you!” You pointed at them accusingly, shooting a glare to the man next to you who was doing nothing but lowly chuckling. You breathe out a sigh. You had the best room in the whole mansion. Or at least you did, before Muscles McGee stole it from you.

“Don’t blame those two” Jean placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “we didn’t have another room made up when these two arrived. It was supposed to be temporary, but–”

“The view was too nice to pass up on,” Logan interjected. You realised he probably thought it was his turn to tease you. You knew that view was nice, it was overlooking the entire grounds behind the school. And whilst you were going to sorely miss it, you weren’t so heartless that you’d take it back from him. Besides, in a weird way, you felt like you owed him. He found Marie, and whatever transpired between them, she seemed happier now. You guessed you maybe had him to thank for that.

“Yeah yeah, alright fine. I concede. Where am I then?” you asked Jean, who broke into a broad smile.

“You’re in the one above, still got the same view, don’t worry,” she elbowed you slightly. That wasn’t so bad actually. Same view, same side of the mansion, just one story up? You breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, you could do that.

“Good enough, I’m still mad about it though.” Your eyes narrowed at four of them, Logan included, before cracking your neck in preparation to take your bag all the way up the stairs.

Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you raised a brow in suspicion. “What’s got you so giddy?” you asked as she once again slid her arm across your shoulders, guiding you back towards the door.

“Oh nothing, just glad you're home. It’s been kinda boring without you.” You laughed at that. With everything that’s been going on, you didn’t think any of them had time to be bored. But you appreciated the thought nonetheless.

Eyeing your bag on the ground, there were times when you really wished your mutation involved some kind of super strength, because as happy as you were to be home and have a room just above your old one, you really didn’t want to lug that thing all the way up. And all the damn lights were on, so slipping up through the shadows was a no-go. You blew out a breath in preparation, rolling your shoulder once again, before you were stopped by a broad hand landing on your arm.

“I got it,” Logan’s voice weaved butterflies through your stomach. You hadn’t realised he was behind you before he was leaning down next to you and effortlessly slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

For the second time that afternoon, you gaped up at him, left almost speechless.

“Super strength?” Was all you could say, hoping to Jesus he knew what you were asking. You watched his features morph from confusion to amusement as he shook his head slightly.

“Nah, not quite.”

“Then how the fu–” you were reminded of the children present by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kitty. “–uuun. How fun.” you gave up on your question, much to his mirth. The sight had your brain short-circuiting. You wouldn’t deny he was good-looking. You’d be fucking crazy to deny that. But there was something else hidden under all those knowing smirks and sharp glances. Something that you wouldn’t mind uncovering.

Deciding that was a quest for another day, you turned abruptly on your heel, making your way to the staircase before once again stopping in your tracks. This was starting to get on your nerves a little. However, any irritation soon died as you finally saw Professor Xavier.

“Ah, I wondered whether the commotion was your return.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You absolutely knew it was my return.” You quipped back, earning yourself a laugh from the man.

“As quick as ever. And I see you’ve met our Wolverine.” Charles nodded to Logan next to you, and you turned to him in bemusement.

“Wolverine? Seriously?” you asked, laughing at his shrug. “Can’t think why…” your sarcastic jab paired with your pointed looks from his hair to his body brought another amused smirk from the man.

“I thought you two would get along. Get yourself settled back in and meet me in my office and your earliest convenience.” You nodded back to Xavier, unable to take a moment to process what he meant when he said he thought you and Logan would get along before Kitty began dragging you towards the stairs.

“C’mon! You’re gonna love it!”You were slightly worried about what it was but followed her nonetheless.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t mind carrying your bag up four flights of stairs. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his afternoon. And as much as he wasn’t the kind of guy to stare at a woman’s ass, he wasn’t mad that he was behind you.

Everything he’d been told about you had been proven correct. At least, everything he’d seen so far. Whether or not you could hold yourself in a fight was up for debate, but everything else, your wit, your charm, heartbreaking kindness, humour… it was all right there in front of him.

Literally.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bite back a smile or a laugh, stunned by the fact that you actually managed to break through and pull both from him. Even now, as you paused before the landing that lead to your old room and sighed wistfully, had had to stop himself grinning. And he was glad you turned back around quickly after throwing him a pointed glare over your shoulder because that was another smile he was struggling to rein in. Fuck, how did you do it? He’d only known you for half an hour and he’d displayed more expression than he had in his whole two years of being here.

He was in huge trouble.

The stairs finally flattened out to the top floor landing, Kitty still leading the way down the corridor until the final room. It was isolated, like his one floor below, and he guessed you must like it that way. Which he thought strange. The way you were with others, he hadn’t exactly pegged you for being someone who liked her space. But then again, he’d only known you for thirty minutes.

He had to remind himself of that.

“Here we are!” Kitty grinned excitedly, stepping to the side to let you open the door yourself. Logan knew what you’d find behind the wood. He’d helped set it up after all. Some twisted guilt forced him into helping. At least, that’s what he told himself.

You eyed Kitty suspiciously, before twisting the handle on the door, pushing slightly to reveal what she was so excited about.

If Logan was being honest, your expression was worth all the consuming guilt he’d felt by taking your room. A smile of pure, unadulterated awe wiped all thought from his mind, your eyes were practically glowing.

“You… Kitty, you didn’t need to do this,” You looked back to the giddy girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Everything you remembered was here. Your posters, fairy lights, and every single plant you’d nourished and grown made your room look like a rainforest. The light in the ceiling had been covered by patterns to ensure there was always shadows cast somewhere, whether it be floor, wall, or ceiling.

“It wasn’t just me! I employed help,” Kitty smiled, taking the liberties she knew she had to sit cross-legged on your bed. “And others offered to help.”

Logan held his breath as he felt your attention shift from Kitty to him, meeting your gaze of sheer wonder.

“You helped?” you asked, taking your bag from his shoulder, though he was almost too caught up in your gaze to notice.

“Here an’ there…” he muttered, trying to calm himself by leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest, attempting to escape your eyes by looking around your room.

“Here and there? That’s such a lie! He’d heard about your mutation, the shadow-casting thing was his idea!” Kitty grinned excitedly, and you all but choked on the realisation. He did this for you. He didn’t even know you, and he did this for you.

“Kitty, that’s en–oof!” Logan barely had time to react before your arms were around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your scent hit him like a truck, and it was nothing like how he’d imagine it. Not that he had imagined it…

“Thank you,” you whispered earnestly, and any guard he’d put up previously melted away. He didn’t exactly return your embrace, but his hands somehow found your waist as you pulled back, keeping your arms across his shoulders. “Maybe I can forgive you for stealing my old room now. Oh! And my job. And not believing I exist,” your grin held more mischief than he ever thought possible, but now you were back to teasing, he felt his thoughts return.

“Anythin’ else?” He asked, mirroring your expression.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something,” was it Logan’s sudden and overactive imagination, or did your eyes just flicker to his lips?

Was it the sudden physical contact that made your body hum this way, or was it just the fact that he could bench-press three of you? You didn’t care, and somehow, you didn’t think he did either.

Until very suddenly and very abruptly, you did care. You stepped out of his hands far too quickly for his liking, your arms falling back by your sides. Though you didn’t look like you regretted anything.

“I really appreciate this, from both of you. And whoever else helped. This is… well it’s better than what I was imagining,” you gestured to the room around you. It truly was perfect for you. They’d really outdone themselves. He’d really outdone himself. And you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the centre of your chest to your limbs. You wanted to know more about him. “What’s your mutation, by the way? You never said,” you asked before you could stop yourself, and Logan blinked in surprise.

Holding his fist up, he flexed the tendons holding his claws. He no longer winced when his knuckles split. No longer grimaced as he sliced through his own flesh, though watching your face did cause him to worry just a little.

You held your silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. That looked painful as fuck, but you felt that asking might make it worse. “I see…” was all you said, before it hit you. “Wolverine! I get it now. It made sense before but now it actually fits!” You exclaimed, chuckling at his confusion.

“Whaddya mean it made sense before?”

“Don’t think too much into it,” you winked again, and Logan swore his heart stopped.

“Yeah, alright Phantom.” He cocked a brow at the playful narrow of your eyes before you melted into the shadows right in front of him. He’d been made aware of your mutation, having overheard Jean using both you and Kitty as examples of phasing mutants, but to actually see it for himself? He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. He glanced around the room, retracting his claws as he looked for where you could have gone.

“Get it now?”

Logan whipped around to see you standing behind him, arms folded across your chest, a mischievous grin plastered across your features.

You always felt a sense of freedom when you released yourself into the shadows, like holding yourself in this corporeal state was somewhat of an effort. But letting yourself be free, to move like liquid amongst the darkness, it was like refueling a beaten truck.

Logan’s lips quirked into a smile as he nodded once. “Got it,” the silence lingered once again, some kind of charge energy crackled in the space between the two of you before he cleared his throat. “Kitty, we should– the fuck?”

You popped your head to the side, peering around Logan to see the space on your bed Kitty used to be sitting in was now completely empty. “Guess she left,” you shrugged. “Or she never existed.” That earned you a flick to the forehead from Logan, and you laughed, batting away his hand. How long had it been since you’d felt this comfortable with someone this quickly? Either it had been years, or never.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled, this time completely unrestrained. And fuck was he gorgeous. But you had to remember this was a man you’d just met.

He had to remember this was a woman he’d just met.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll uh, see you later?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so hopeful at the end, but honestly? It was worth seeing him turn back to you with that same smirk you’d seen countless times already.

“Sure.” He said, before closing the door.

You sat heavily on your bed, your head in your hands. “What the fuck?”

Little did you know, Logan was having a similar reaction right outside your door, his back against the wood as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What. The. Fuck?”

Having almost drowned yourself in the shower, using that shampoo you’d missed so dearly on your travels, you’d changed clothes into something a lot more comfortable, a loose pair of sweats and a spaghetti strap tank top, before heading down to Xavier’s office where he’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining his plans to further your mutation. And to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t listened to half of it.

“So, in short, your ability, whilst appearing similar to Kitty’s, is actually entirely different. Where Kitty phases through objects, you become those shadows. Your molecules break down completely, unlike Miss Pryde.” He finished his explanation slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had no idea what he’d just said. Luckily, when conversing with a telepath, you didn’t have to.

Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. “You’ve always said you felt a strain on yourself whilst corporeal, yes?” He asked, and you breathed in relief. Finally, a question you could answer.

“Yeah, it’s like I’m holding water with my bare hands. Or something like that,” you nodded, looking at yourself slightly curiously. “So, I’m not like Kitty?” you clarified, looking back up the the professor, who shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. We were mistaken before, simply assuming you were just another phasing mutant. But Jean ran some tests on your blood, and it was quite remarkable.” You’d almost forgotten the woman was in the room until she cleared her throat, her red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail.

“I think you describe it perfectly. Your molecules are being held together, more or less, by string, or so to speak. Not real string, but I think you understand.” You nodded. You actually did understand, because that’s how you constantly felt. It was, however, incredibly unnerving. What would happen if that string frayed? Or worse, fucking snapped altogether? Sensing your distress, Charles covered your hand with his own.

“My dear, that’s why we brought you back. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far, and clearly, you have an innate ability to control the string. It’s led us to believe that your abilities don’t stop at shadow walking.” He looked at you with understanding as you took this all in. He’d mentioned to you previously that he thinks you could do more.

“Shadow manipulation, right?” You asked though the question was rhetorical. You knew that’s where they were going with this. Charles glanced at Jean who nodded in confirmation.

“Essentially, yes. We think you could pull shadows from an already existing cast and wield them to your heart’s content. In… theory.” She hesitated, and you blew out a breath.

“But in practice?”

“In practice… honestly we don’t know. It will be a learning curve for all of us, to be blunt.” You nodded a little numbly. You’d only just returned and already you were being bombarded with hard truths.

Once again sensing your distress, Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should continue this discussion tomorrow. You’ve had a long day and perhaps right now isn’t the best time to be entertaining new ideas.” He threw another look to Jean and she nodded again, standing from her seat.

You couldn’t agree more. This was a lot to take in. Especially since you’d become so comfortable with your mutation, believing that you were just another phaser like Kitty. But now, you were something else completely, something unknown. Even to yourself. It… scared you. And you didn’t scare easily. Worry? Sure. Impending sense of dread? Absolutely. Fear? Never.

“Right. Thanks, Professor. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You dipped your head goodbye, before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. Tea. You needed tea. Fuck you needed something stronger than tea, but since this was a goddamn school, alcohol was strictly prohibited.

Fuck’s sake.

Dragging a hand down the side of your face, you absently made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Muscle memory guided you to the drinks cupboard, moving aside the jar of decaff coffee to reveal your personal stash of teabags. Whilst primarily you were a coffee drinker, when it was this late in the evening, you tended to steer clear of the caffeine. You weren’t the best at sleeping to begin with, let alone when your mind and body were buzzing.

You didn’t turn when you heard footsteps behind you, and the scrape of one of the chairs against the wooden floor, too focussed on rifling through the cupboard adjacent to the drinks one for our favourite mug. A gift from Kitty, she’d had custom-made for the print on the side to say ‘Phasers Forever!’. It made you a little sad to think about now. But, thankfully you found it, nestled right at the back next to the mug you’d gifted her. Also custom-made, but this just had the image of two hands with their little fingers linked. You’d made sure the gloves matched the ones you both wore in your suits.

Dropping the teabag into the mug, you instantly savoured the scented steam as you poured the hot water, even the aroma calming your slightly frayed nerves. Wow, that meeting had seriously rattled you. Looping the string and tag over the lip of the mug, you turned back to the room, only to almost drop your freshly made drink in surprise.

Logan. Hair slightly damp, in a white v-neck tank, sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair with a bottle of what you could have sworn was larger in his bear paw of a hand. That same fucking smirk pulled at his lips.

“Phantom.” He raised his bottle in greeting. You wished you could match his energy, but honestly, you were drained from the day and the meeting. But you tried nonetheless.

“Wolvie.” You smiled back, though you could feel it didn’t reach your eyes. And clearly, he noticed too, expression shifting from self-assured confidence to slight concern.

“You alright?” Logan had only known you for less than a day, and he already knew he really didn’t like seeing you despondent.

“Yeah, fine.” It almost pained him physically seeing your eyes remain dull with your liar’s smile. That was something else he realised in that split second.

He really didn’t like you lying to him.

“Uh huh?” Fuck, he definitely knew you were hiding everything. How the fuck could he possibly tell that? He didn’t even know you! You sighed heavily, hoping it would help your next half-truth.

“I’m just tired. Long day, lots of emotions. Are you hungry? I’m starved and was gonna make pasta if you wanted some,” You tried your best to steer the conversation away from how you were feeling. Once again it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were starving, having not eaten since this morning, and it was now ten in the evening.

Logan knew you turned away quickly so you didn’t have to see his suspicion. If you weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you, he knew he shouldn’t push. But, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know what was up, and maybe, just maybe, he could make you feel better. It seemed doubtful, but it was worth a shot. “How was your meeting with Charles?”

Your shoulders tensed, spine straightening. Gotcha.

“Yeah, fine. Just easing me back into life here basically. Nothing earthshattering.” Now that was a flat out lie, and once again you refused to turn around as you brought the kettle over to the tap, filling it to the max line before placing it back on the stand and flicking the switch. You found it easier to lie when you were busy doing something else and making pasta seemed perfect. Crouching to one of the lower cupboards, you pulled out the pack of wholewheat, refusing to eat any of the sugary white bullshit. Unfortunately, the one downside of busying yourself so remarkably well was that you weren’t always paying attention to what was going on around you.

For example, Logan walking up behind you to take the packet from your hand and place it on the counter. You turned, realising he’d given you minimal space to move. He was so close you could smell the gel he used in the shower. Woodsy and smoky, like a forest cabin. He smelt fucking great, but to be honest, you were too busy trying to avoid eye contact to care.

“S’that why you look like your pet just died?” You knew he was trying to be teasing, trying to lighten the mood, trying to create a comfortable environment for you to open up in, but you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. With a deep breath, you stepped to the side and out of his reach, opening the fridge to look for something to make a nice creamy sauce with.

“Look, Logan. I appreciate it, and what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So, and I mean this with the utmost respect, fucking drop it. I’m tired and I have genuinely had a long day, what more do you want me to say?”

Logan blinked. And blinked again for good measure. He wasn’t expecting you to be so sharp. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting it, but you really took him by surprise. That seemed to be all you were doing since the moment he met you. Though this one stung a little more than he cared to admit. “That might’ve been the nicest fuck off I’ve ever heard. But it was still a fuck off.” He shrugged. He knew deep down you were right. You didn’t know each other, and maybe was was expecting a little too much from a three-hour friendship. If he could even call it that.

“I didn’t mean–” You turned back from the fridge just in time to watch his disappearing form leave through the door, hearing his footsteps recede back up the stairs. You cursed inwardly, hating yourself for how you handled the situation. Though, looking at the pasta on the counter, you had an idea as to how to fix some of this.

It had been roughly half an hour since he’d left you in the kitchen, recognising you needed space, and in all honesty? Retreating to lick his own wounds. He didn’t know why he wanted you to open up so badly. It wasn’t like he had a long-lasting friendship with you. He met you today, for fuck’s sake. Only hours ago. Shit, this morning he still didn’t think you existed! Logan groaned at the memory of you shutting him down, wishing he’d handled the situation differently, and stopped prodding when he knew he should have. Fuck!

He’d just managed to resolve to come and talk to you, before there was a thump at his bedroom door, followed by another. That wasn’t any kind of fist knocking…

With deliberate caution, Logan stood from his bed, shining claws sliding through his knuckles as he approached the door, only for his nerves to be calmed when a familiar scent wafted through the cracks in the door. He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he turned the handle, pulling the door open to reveal you, stood before him, two steaming plates of pasta held impressively in one hand, and two bottles of larger in the other, your foot raised to kick the door a third time.

“Before you slam the door, I brought peace pesto pasta, homemade so you know it’s good.” You were honestly surprised he opened the door, though you eyed his claws cautiously. Who did he think it was?

Logan noticed your line of sight, retracting his claws to cross his arms, a brow raised. “Peace pesto pasta?”

You nodded. “Homemade, don’t forget.” Logan smiled slightly at the hope in your eyes. “And also beer so you physically can’t turn me down.” You raised the two bottles in your hand, and he sighed as if you were a nuisance. Unfortunately for him, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Homemade peace pesto, beer, and…?”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. “An apology.” You reluctantly admitted, looking anywhere but his face. “Can I come in or are you gonna stare at me all evening? These aren’t the most balanced plates, been a while since I was a waitress so…” you mumbled in explanation, earning yourself a quizzical look.

“You were a waitress?”

“Yes and it was a long time ago but we can talk all about it if I can set these down somewhere they won’t fall on your feet,” you said hurriedly, borderline pleading with your eyes for him to let you in. It wasn’t as if he was about to say no, there was just something comical about the way you were managing to hold everything in your hands.

With a click of his tongue, he gestured for you to enter with his head, closing the door behind you as you set one of the plates down on the window seat, rubbing the red skin of your arm where the hot plate had ever so slightly burned you. He instantly felt bad, crossing the room with the intention to take your arm to look at it before you stuck it into the shadow on the wall, removing it again to reveal your skin pristine again.

“It wasn’t that bad, just uncomfortable,” you shrugged, handing a plate and bottle to him. Logan shook his head at what he’d just seen, giving you a look of ‘fair enough’ before taking the plate and beer gratefully. How long had it been since someone cooked for him? Though you’d done it as a peace offering, it still warmed his heart slightly. That and the fact it smelt fucking divine.

“I’m sorry…” you started, mindlessly poking your pasta around your plate with your fork after making yourself comfortable on his window seat. He guessed it used to be your window seat, but it still made him happy how comfortable you looked. “The Professor told me something in the meeting and… rattled me, that’s all,” you shrugged, popping a few pieces of green pasta into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

Logan decided to wait for you to continue, cracking open the bottle top of his beer with his teeth. Raising a brow as you looked over at him in slightly disturbed awe.

“How did you not just break your jaw?” you asked, flabbergasted at his seemingly endless pool of abilities.

“Not much can break it, considering my skeleton’s adamantium.” Logan was starting to like when you gaped at him in shock, admiring the way you jaw went completely slack, eyes wide.

“Wait, how don't you– ohhhhh…” It had taken you a while to notice just how much the bed dipped when he sat down. No wonder he was so ripped, he had to be that strong in order to fucking walk around. “Any other secrets you're hiding?” You asked, before instantly regretting the question when his eyes met yours.

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets now?” He asked curtly.

“Walked into that one…”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

You sighed, fiddling with the bottle cap of your beer. Not to remove it, just to feel the sensation of the almost serrated edges helped to ground yourself.

“You know about my mutation, the whole shadow-walking thing?” You asked, to which Logan responded with a nod, finally taking a bite of the pasta you’d made. Your heart swelled with pride as he paused, looking from the food to you with an impressed smile. “So, turns out, it’s nothing like Kitty’s. It’s not phasing like we originally thought, but something totally different.” You started to explain to an intensely listening Logan. “Kitty phases through things. I actually become the shadows I enter. Like, it’s not still my body but just in the shadow, my molecules break down to literally be the shadow,” you could tell he was trying to understand, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way you genuinely found cute. “It’s like, I’m holding water in my bare hands,” you started to demonstrate, placing your plate and bottle down beside you to cup your hands in front of you. “And this, this is my body. My corporeal body. But, when I dive into shadows, that body breaks down,” your cupped hands splayed apart, fingers spread to simulate a liquid splash. Logan nodded thoughtfully through mouthfuls of pasta. “How Jean explained it was that my molecules are held together with some kind of thread, and I control that thread, but it’s a constant strain… Like, I can feel my body being held together. And it just… I don’t know. It scared me I guess.”

The room fell into silence as you finished your explanation, Logan setting his somehow clean plate to the side, leaning his elbows against his spread knees, beer bottle clasped in both hands. “I uh, don’t really understand what’s scary bubs, sounds like this is an opportunity to develop it, right?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign you were reassured.

You sighed, the back of your head softly hitting the wall behind you. “Well apparently we’ve been lucky so far, and my control over this string or thread or whatever the fuck is stronger than they thought but… I don’t know, I guess what first went through my mind was what would happen if the thread snapped. Would I just stop being able to shadow walk or–”

“Would you stop altogether, and be able to do nothing but shadow walk,” Logan finished, realisation dawning on his gruff features. You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak anything into existence.

“Exactly.” You whispered, staring into your borderline untouched pasta. You honestly didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t know what could be done. Surely, at this point, it was just a matter of time, right? The thought hit you like a lightning bolt. If it was just a matter of time, you just burdened this poor man, who you’d only met hours ago, with the knowledge that, eventually, you were likely just simply dissolve into nothing, cursed to live forever in the shadows of others. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I had a face like, how did you put it? Like my pet just died,” You did your best to imitate his voice, hoping to shit it would lighten the mood of the room, but it only earned you a look of sympathy.

Fucking sympathy. You hated sympathy.

You’d come in here in the hopes to make things right with him and apologise for how you were earlier, but the one thing you really didn’t want, and never fucking wanted, was sympathy. You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for whatever ‘I’m so sorry this is happening speech’ he was clearly getting ready to spill.

But for the umpteenth time in the short while you’d known him, Logan surprised you. Taking your bottle of beer from your side, he cracked the lid off with his teeth, the same as before, before handing it back to you. You, as stunned as you were, managed to take it from his hand, the soft skin of your fingertips brushing the backs of his own. You smiled in resignation, raising your bottle in some tragic excuse of a toast. ‘To the inevitable’ you wanted to say, but you physically bit your tongue before taking a long sip of the slightly bitter liquid.

“It won’t come to that,” you’d forgotten, in the period of silence, that you were waiting for him to say something. You tilted your head in confusion, and it honestly took all of Logan’s willpower not to launch into you and wrap you up in his arms. He really needed to pull himself together. “Look, I was pretty fuckin’ helpless when I came here. And I know you remember the state Marie was in. Neither of us thought we were worth savin’, but look at us now,” in complete honesty, Logan still didn’t think he was worth saving, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll help ya. You’ll get this under control. And it ain’t all bad. He already said you had more control than he thought,” You could feel his eyes search your face as you closed yours. Maybe he was right. Charles had said you had more control over these strings than he thought.

Logan was right. That was a good thing.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow. That’s when we really start everything. We have another meeting before we’re straight into training, seeing if we can really develop this mutation before I cease to exist. No pressure right?” You half-joked, your lips quirking up into what you hoped was a smile. Or, at least, a lopsided one.

Fuck he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you. When the hell was the last time he’d felt like this toward anyone? He hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in goddamn years, and here you were, a woman he didn’t even believe existed a few hours ago, waltzing into his life and making him feel things like wanting to fucking kiss you.

“I uh… ya know I wanted to apologise too.”

Well, that caught you off guard. “Wh– wait what? Why? What for?” you couldn’t help firing off questions at speeds you didn’t know you were capable of, utter bafflement contorting your features.

“You were right. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” Logan watched as your face transformed from confusion, to hurt, to acceptance.

“Yeah…. I did say that didn’t I? I–”

“But,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know ya…” Logan almost laughed aloud at how your eyes went comically wide. Did you know how cute you were? When you weren’t telling him to fuck off, that is.

“I– Uh, okay, sure… what d’ya wanna know?” you asked, hoping to fuck you didn’t sound ridiculous. If you didn’t, Logan didn’t seem to mind or care.

“You can start of by tellin’ me how or where you learned to cook so well,” you scoffed loudly, rolling you eyes. “Nah I’m serious kid, that was fuckin’ great,” Logan leaned against the headboard, an arm positioned behind his head as you too made yourself comfortable again on the window seat, resting your elbow on your raised knee.

“Kid? Do you know how old I am?” you asked, smirking slightly. Though you were a little embarrassed, there was no way you’d show it. Kid? Did he seriously think you were that young?

“Do you know how old I am?” he retorted, that same self-assured glint dancing in his eye. You peered at him in scrutiny, emphasising how hard you were looking at him by squinting intensely.

“I’d put you at around like, early thirties? Maybe mid? Am I hot or cold?” you asked, kinda hoping he was in the same sort of age bracket as you were. Not for any specific reason of course… just for… science.

Yeah. For science.

Though your heart deflated slightly at his bark of a laugh. “Not quite. Try mid to late hundred and thirties. Give or take a few years.” Once again you gaped at him, mouth wide open, jaw completely slack. He could get used to that sight. Dangerously used to it. “Take a picture bubs, it’ll last longer.”

“B-but… how–? Y–? Hundred and– what the fuck?” You couldn’t get over it. Though your mind was still reeling, you managed to recover quickly. “Why you don’t look a day over ninety. You’re in good shape for a fossil, though I was wondering why I was getting a lot of calls from museums recently… probably looking for their exhibit back,” you smirked wildly whilst Logan just stared at you, trying his fucking damnest not to let his disobedient lips quirk anywhere other than down.

“Ya done?”

“I’ll probably think of some more. But, in all seriousness, how?” You asked, and Logan couldn’t detect anything other than genuine curiosity.

“Regenerative. I heal real quick, but that also keeps my body in good condition. Dunno exactly how old I am, but it’s around hundred and thirty,” he shrugged, and you whistled lowly. “So?” he prompted, and you looked up.

“So what?”

“How’dya make the pasta?”

You snorted in amusement, before launching into an explanation about your brother and how he always had an interest in cooking and had taught you to cook simple things, like how to make a béchamel sauce, or how to make pesto from scratch. And if you weren’t so caught up in your storytelling, you would have noticed Logan drinking in every damn word like he was parched for conversation. Listening to you talk, the cadence of your voice, the way you pronounce every letter and the way you occasionally drop a letter, it was hypnotic. You didn’t have an abundance of energy, and whether that was simply because you were exhausted after the day you’d had, or if that was just who you were, he didn’t know. But honestly? He didn’t really care.

As long as you kept talking, that was all that mattered. If he could take your mind off tomorrow, or your situation by letting you ramble about the smallest of things, he would. And he would pretend the whole time like he was doing this for you. And not because, at the end of everything, he liked listening to you.

“Anyway, that’s how you tell the difference between a Thoroughbred and a Quarter Horse. And I will not make that mistake again.” You’d somehow weaved from topic to topic, the conversation ebbing and flowing for hours, you both taking turns in sharing random stories from your pasts, little anecdotes that gave context to who you both were as people now. And it was only thanks to the brief silence and the conveniently timed chime of the clock did you realise how late it was. Or rather, how early.

It was one in the fucking morning. How the hell did that happen? Your eyes slid back to Logan, who at some point had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat, and you watched as he had the same realisation. Holy shit.

“I should probably–”

“Look, you should–”

You both started to speak at the same time, before pausing to let the other talk first. It was gross and awkward and cringey but, for the life of you, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

You stood, gathering your long abandoned, though now empty plate, and crossed the room to grab his from the bedside table. You heard Logan sigh heavily behind you in what you assumed was exhaustion. You couldn’t blame the man. You’d been talking for hours.

Logan followed you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped out into the hallway. You placed the crockery onto the floor, freeing your hands to wrap your arms around his neck in a similar embrace to the one before. Only this time, you felt his strong arms return your hug, wrapping you up tightly against his chest.

“Thank you. For letting me talk for hours. You don’t need to pretend you enjoyed it, by the way. But thank you all the same.” You stepped back, and Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah well, you brought peace pesto and beer. How could I say no?” He quipped, and you chuckled lightly. He wasn’t about to admit he enjoyed your company far more than he should have done, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t pretending to like it. His eyes softened at your laugh in a way he’d stopped them from doing all evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You peered up at him, a knowing spark dancing in your iris. You noticed. Of course, you’d noticed. That was almost exactly what you’d said to him earlier. The same hopeful lilt and all.

“Sure.” Was all you said in return, before picking up the empty plates and bottles off the floor, and turning away to head back down the hallway. You refused to look back, worried that if you did, you’d run straight back to his room and never fucking leave.

But if you had. If you had just turned to look over your shoulder, you would have seen him leaning against the doorway still, eyes following you down the stairs, and lingering still, long after you’d disappeared.

Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #x men x reader #x men logan #logan howlett #james logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #the wolverine x reader #logan smut #logan x reader smut #x men wolverine #essa's works

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talekinesis · 2 months ago

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I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again

Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.

She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.

So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her

Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.

Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)

THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK

The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.

They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."

When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.

Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.

Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.

Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED

She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become

Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental

Caryn: You made this?

Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-

Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'

And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.

I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.

Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.

Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.

I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.

#taltalks #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls dipper #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls #gravity falls stan pines #gravity falls stanley #stan pines #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #stanley pines #caryn pines #Gravity Falls Caryn Pines

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mikkomacko · 1 month ago

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Jersey Meets Prague

Dad!Nico Hischier x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Jersey travels to Prague to see her daddy shine in the first game of the season

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“Are you sure you’ve got everything?”

Phone squished between your ear and shoulder, you adjust Jersey in the crook of your elbow, careful to not accidentally detach her or disturb her breastfeeding.

“Yes Nico, I’ve got everything,” you promise, “believe it or not I’ve packed her for international flights before.”

You don’t add that she was barely a month old during one of said flights, not wanting to brag too much. Jersey’s first ever off-season flight to Switzerland was easy for the most part. She slept a lot, was more than happy to lay on Nico’s chest or cradled in his arms while they snoozed.

Unsurprisingly, she’s just like her father in that way. As soon as the plane reaches cruising altitude and the turbulence has more or less passed, they’re clocking out. And they’re really only getting up to eat, because Nico’s zombie walk to the bathroom half asleep doesn’t really count as being awake, and well, Jersey doesn’t have to necessarily to be awake for her bathroom time.

“But I’m usually there too,” Nico says through the phone, and you can hear the pout in his voice, practically see the droop of his lips that makes him look the like personified version of a sad face emoji.

You appease him by saying, “That’s true, but I promise we’ll be fine.”

While it is always easier to parent with two, you’re no stranger to long stretches of time without Nico. Jersey had gotten her first ever cold while Nico was on a week-long west coast roadtrip, and you were miserable. She barely slept and ate, so you barely slept and ate. Her crying made you cry. And you’d called the pediatrician so much on her personal phone you’re surprised she didn’t block the number and remove Jersey as a patient.

You’d survived that just fine. All by yourself.

“Yeah I know,” Nico sighs just as the baby girl against your chest lets out a single displeased cry, pushing away from you with her chubby hands.

You quickly place the phone on the bench beside you, hitting the speaker as you adjust her into sitting on your lap. “Sorry Neeks, one more time?”

Fixing your top, you grab the baby rag off your knee and gently clean Jersey’s tiny little hands. She looks at you those big brown eyes she got from her dad, dark lashes clumped together from crying earlier. Her lips tilt down into that signature Hischier pout.

“Go over the list with me?” He requests again and you can’t help but smile. Nico Hischier is nothing if not prepared, one of the many things that makes him a great father. You can picture family vacations in the years to come, suitcases for the babies filled with anything and everything they could ever need or want. All because he always has that mental list.

“Of course,” you agree, continuing to clean up Jersey despite her cries of disagreement and annoyance. Even when her eyebrows pinch together and her frown wobbles and deepens, your resolve wanting to crack because she looks so much like her father. God knows Nico’s hurt face always gets to you.

Luckily you’ve gotten good at having to just ignore it.

Nico starts reading out his mental order of items you needed to bring with, including certain outfits for Jersey and her favorite baby wash (they all are unscented but Nico swears she likes the soft yellow bottle better than the pink). He double checks that you have her Devil’s noise cancelling headphones, her blankie his mother knitted, her favorite snacks in the baby bag. Despite the fact that you’ve been on the phone with him since you set up camp in the private mother’s lounge to pump and feed Jersey, he still asks if you have extra bottles and if he should go buy formula.

“I can always pump when we get there,” you laugh, “but if you want to pick up formula too you can.”

He hums like he’s thinking, the sound making you have to bite your lip not to giggle at how adorable he is. You finish up cleaning Jersey, combing your fingers through her ever-growing blonde hair.

Nico clicks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll get a small one,” he decides. “And I already got her diapers, hotel got us a pack’n’play for her to sleep and my mom is bringing her some bedding-“

“Only the finest Swiss threads for her highness,” you joke, smiling fondly as Jersey blinks sluggishly at you. You bring her into your chest, snuggling her as she burrows into the fabric of your clothes.

Over the phone, Nico makes a noise of complaint. “Well obviously,” he scoffs, as Jersey reaches up to prod her chubby little fingers into your cheek.

“What’s she doing anyway? I miss her.”

You snuggle into her little hand, reaching over for your phone and hitting the FaceTime button. It barely rings for a second before Nico is popping up on the screen, a little grainy and blurry, but still handsome.

“Oh hello,” he greets with a cheeky smile, “what a beautiful sight.”

He’s got an AirPod in, the white headphone peaking out from his wisps of hair that he’s got tucked under a white beanie. Beautiful buildings and cobblestone streets move behind him as he walks down the sidewalks of Prague. It’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous.

“I could say the same thing, Hisch.”

His smile goes shy, lashes fluttering as he quickly looks down from the camera like he’s too nervous or something to look at you after saying something so sweet.

You tilt the camera, show him the head of blonde hair snuggled into you. Nico groans painfully, eyebrows furrowing as he says, “Aw it’s just got better.”

“Well enjoy it while you can because we board in a little under and hour and someone is starting to get sleepy.”

Nico frowns. “Noooo she can’t sleep now, she won’t sleep on the plane!”

Shrugging, you lean back so Jersey will lift her head. She blinks up at you in annoyance, moving her hand from your face to knuckle at her sleepy eyes. “Say hi to daddy baby,” you encourage, moving the phone down so she can see Nico on the screen.

A dimpled smile takes over her face, so quickly you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was nodding off seconds ago. Her fingers reach out for the phone, nonsensical words spilling from her lips.

“Hello my liebling,” he greets, mirroring her smile as he wiggles his fingers at her. The grocery bag hanging from his wrist crinkles as he moves.

“Papa,” Jersey mumbles, the sounds messy but it makes Nico preen anyway. You lay your cheek on top of her head, listening to them chatter with each other until it’s time to fly.

~~~~

Nico, half-dressed in his game day suit runs circles around the coffee table in the hotel suite. Dramatic screams of fear and panicked “oh no, oh no’s” leaving his smiling lips. Jersey squeals excitedly, toddling after him on chubby legs.

Setting the hot iron off to the side, you pick up his suit jacket from where it was laid out on the dark wood table. You look over it for anymore wrinkles, swiping fuzzy of the sleeve.

"Nico," you call, determining it to be perfect. "suit is ready my love. And you gotta get going before you miss the bus."

He halts, looking up at with doe-eyes and Jersey crashes into his legs, wraps her arms around his calf and shouts, "got you!" Then she's latching onto his pants, baby teeth biting into the fabric. Brining the jacket over to him, you help him slip it on, standing in front of him and straightening out the lapels.

"Thanks darling."

Nico's looking at you with dark eyes, a sly look on his face and you're shocked by how quickly he can go from the silly man chasing your daughter around to that.

"Keep it in your pants, Hisch." You tease, laughing when he simply raises an eyebrow at you. Rising to your toes, you press a sweet kiss to his lips as he grabs at your hips.

"Get Jersey off your leg, I want a picture before you go." You instruct, nodding down towards the baby girl that's still mouthing at his leg. Nico groans, leaning down and snaking his hands around her middle. Then he's growling like a monster as he picks her up, flipping her upside down in his arms and then rolling her over again until she fits into the crook of his elbow. Jersey laughs, bouncing in his hold and grabbing at his scruffy cheeks.

You dig out the youth Devils jersey Nico gifted her last season, the name and logo bedazzled and sparkling. Nico's pretending to bite at her little fingers when you come back, wrestling the jersey over her head and then guiding her arms in. Jersey frowns, grunting in annoyance and you frown back at her.

"No naked photos for you, miss girl." You tease, pulling the fabric down to hide her diaper clad bottom. Nico frowns too and she looks up at him, her serious face a complete mirror of his.

"Yeah no naked photos ever," he instructs. Then h's sticking out his tongue at her, eyes crinkling with mirth when she does it back.

You have him hold her with her back to his chest, chubby legs hanging over his bicep and the city of Prague dazzles through the balcony doors behind them.

"Smile cuties," you sing, and Nico beams at you, ticking his hand into Jersey's stomach so she does the same. Snapping a few photos, you quickly move over and stand with them. Posing for a selfie, you and Nico both make funny faces at the camera while Jersey looks at you like you're crazy.

"Ok, ok daddy's got to go." Nico says. tossing Jersey into the air and catching her. You pocket your phone, let him decorate her face in kisses before he's handing her over. Sitting her on your hip, you give Nico a kiss bye as well.

"Look for us in the crowd," you tell him, "we'll be the giant group with the Swiss flag."

Nico laughs, presses a kiss to the top of your head before gathering his things and heading for the door. Jersey waves bye to him, and he returns it just as the large door is slipping shut.

Now it's time to get Jersey and yourself dressed, needing to meet up with Nico's family in the lobby in little less than a hour.

~~~~

Nico found the two of you at warmups immediately. His first lap around the ice he's winking at you, smirking as he picks up a puck. You watch him go about his routine, stick handling by the bench for a bit and then taking a couple shots. He does his little frog-like stretches, laughing and joking with Tuna as he does.

And then he's lazily skating over to where you're sat with his family, a few rows up and just off to the right of the net. Jersey kicks excitedly as he comes over, gnawing on her fingers and Nina helps you stand her up against the glass. Nico taps at it with his gloves, right over where her smiling face is and she smacks her hand there too.

He scoops up a loose puck on his blade, flipping it a couple times before looking at you expectantly. You let Nina hold Jersey up, moving off to the side so he can flip the puck over the glass into your outstretched hands.

"Mine," Jersey tells you, grumpy, and Nina laughs as you hand the cold puck over to her. She takes it in her little hands, fingers running over the Devils and Sabres logos.

Nico stays and hangs for a bit longer, tossing a couple pucks over when the kids near you realize he's in the area. You have to shush Jersey when she keeps yelling mine to them, frowning in apology at the families. Nina and Rino find it hilarious, and by the way Nico is shaking his head through the glass you know he's trying not to laugh too.

He stays by the boards until the clock winds down, and even then he's the last to trail off the ice.

~~~~

You're tucking away Jersey's headphones and her Prague puck when Nico comes down the tunnel. His hair is wet on his forehead, cheeks and neck flushed like he took a shower that was just a little too hot. His parents and some friends from home are the first to greet him, everyone jeering and complimenting his goal as they share hugs and take photos.

Zipping up the diaper bag, you stand with it between your feet as you blow your hair out of your face and turn to Nina. "You should go say hi and take a photo." You tell her, and while she makes a hesitant face, she does hand Jersey over. The bottle she had been drinking slips from her lips during the adjustment, and she cries out unhappily.

You can feel Nico looking over as you settle her on your hip, but she take the bottle back easily and happily, laying her head on your shoulder. Swaying her a bit, you get a little over halfway through the bottle when Nico finally makes it through the crowd and to you two.

"There's my pretty girl," he greets quietly, taking your face in his hands and the two of you share a sweet kiss. Kissing your cheek just once and then the top of Jersey's head, she pulls away from you and leans back into his shoulder instead.

"Oh I'm only fun until daddy comes back huh?" You pout, but you're happy to let him take her. Now that's she got her favorite person she doesn't want her bottle, so you cap it and lean down to pack it away with the rest of her things.

Nico's wiping at her mouth with the sleeve of his suit jacket when you rise to your normal height, and you gasp. "Nico stop, I don't want to have to wash that in the hotel sink."

Chuckling, he wraps that arm around you instead, brining you under his arm so he can hold both of you. You return the hug, soothing your hand up and down his lower back.

"You played really well today Captain," you murmur, reaching over to brush Jersey's hair out of her face.

"Yeah?" He asks and you nod. "Well the boys made it easy, Marky and Kovy especially."

You roll your eyes. "And Hischier," you insist, pressing your chin into his shoulder as you look up at him. "He was buzzing. Stayed with the puck, got his legs moving, executed."

That makes him laugh, a fully belly laugh that crinkles his eyes and nose. Jersey laughs alongside him, fingers nudging at his dimples and you giggle too.

"Good to hear coach," he says quietly, getting distracted by something behind you. You look back, realize Katja has her phone out and is taking photos. "Come on, let's take a real one."

Following Nico's instructions, you move to curl into his side, stretching your arm across his middle to hug him tightly. Rino makes funny faces at Jersey from behind the camera, and she squeals and laughs perfectly for the photo. You quickly move to his other side, holding Jersey between the two of you.

"Kisses," Nico tells you in a silly voice, Jersey giggling and mimicking it. You and him smooch kisses to her chubby cheeks, Nina cooing as Katja takes the photo.

"Beautiful," she compliments. "We'll share photos later after dinner."

Nico's camera roll later that night is pregame photos with Jersey, a slightly blurry candid of him and Jersey sticking their tongues out at each other during warm-ups, a video from his mom of you and Jersey jumping to your feet and cheering when he scores his goal. Photo upon photo of him with loved ones from Switzerland, but his favorites are the ones of him laughing and holding you and Jersey in the tunnels afterwards.

He post a collage of them to his story and tags you, a small caption at the bottom reading "Another season with my favorite girls"

#nico hischier #dad nico hischier #girl dad Nico #new jersey devils #nhl global series #Nico hischier blurb #Nico hischier x reader

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inuyashaluver · 1 year ago

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hey idk if u still take requests but i got an idea (if u don't just delete the ask, I understand xd). Leah and R recently got married but R kept on playing with her lastname on the jersey still. But on one international break R (plays for a different nation, like idk Germany or Spain) and decided to put Williamson on her back as a surprise for Leah who is watching with her family/or team. Leah at first is confused about it and thinks its a mistake in the line up but then the camera zooms in on R with Williamson printed on the back, so she of course gets super emotional about it + maybe even getting a little teased for it ;) ps. love your writing (especially the leah fics) a lot so keep up the great work <3 (kiss cam was mad cute btw)

surprise - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your wife sees your shared last name on your jersey for the first time

warnings: swearing

a/n: oh my goodness! thank you so much for the request and the love for my fics, i really appreciate it!! hope you enjoy xxx

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your wife, leah had been married for a little over a year after being partners for 6 years prior. it wasn’t a secret that you took on the williamson last name, however, on all your jerseys, it remained (y/l/n), taking so long because you don’t have the time to change it as quick as you would like.

you were working on changing it without leah’s knowledge, but it didn’t really faze her, she was confident in your relationship and you didn’t need to be labelled by her last name to be her wife. in her head, you’ve been her wife the first day she asked you to be her girlfriend.

you both played together at arsenal, where the both of you met and blossomed in love. however, you both play for different national teams, you for spain and her for england. this didn’t affect your relationship in a bad way, instead, it was good for it. you loved to tease each other about which team was better, who would win against each other and more. both of you were professionals, leaving everything on the pitch and not bringing into your personal lives.

it just worked, the two of you couldn’t explain it but it did. you and leah had a lot of love and respect for each other, both of you supporting each other’s national careers and arsenal careers.

—

it was national break, leah had already played in her group, the lionesses winning their group stage for the qualifiers. you had gone to each of leah’s games, her doing the same for you - wearing each other’s jerseys with bright grins and putting pride to the side, wanting to support your significant other.

as soon as leah had completed her group stages, you had your final match for your own group, deciding to bring keira and georgia along with her. your family were there, with leah, sitting in the family and friends section talking and laughing with each other before the game starts. before the teams come out, the announcer shares the starting line ups. leah was watching the screen excitedly, ready to see her pretty girl, each player gets an individual video of themselves with their names on the screen.

“number eight, (y/n) williamson!” her claps and cheers slow when she sees ‘williamson’ on the big screen, supported by your face in your jersey. her eyebrows quirk in confusion, she turns to your family and asks if they know anything about the ‘mistake’ but they offer her fake confusion, claiming they knew nothing of it. leah furrows her brows and looks at keira and georgia, who also shrug with a smirk. she sits forward on her chair, elbows resting on her thighs, her stern football face on full display waiting for you to come out.

she focuses her attention on the tunnel, waiting to see the back of your jersey, that’s when she sees it, ‘8 - williamson’ she immediately covers her mouth with her hands, letting out multiple tears when she sees you. she looks over to your family but they were already smiling at her brightly, recording her reaction for you to watch later.

she lets out a wet laugh, she can’t take her eyes off you, smiling with so much adoration. she knew you had her last name, she’s seen you wear her jersey, but she wanted to collapse at the thought of her girl finally having her last name officially on your jersey rather than hers, not realising how much this meant for her.

keira and georgia jump up and down, clapping leah on the shoulder and hyping her up. she’s still in disbelief, standing up with her hands on her head, looking at you with a big smile. she could tell that you were searching for her in the section, you spot the group of your family, your wife and some of your best friends. while waiting in line for the national anthems to play, you quickly wave at them, blowing a kiss in their direction. leah lets out a quick giggle, slightly pink in the cheeks.

“captain leah is a bit of a simp huh, g?” keira smirks, pretending to talk to georgia but directing it right at leah.

“who would have thought we would see leah weak at the knees because of her own last name, kei?” georgia mocks with a matching smirk

“both of you shut up” she sends them the captain’s glare but they just can’t stop, choosing to tease their friend for the duration of the match.

—

every time you got the ball, leah leaned forward in her seat, analysing your every move and whispering under her breath, “come on, baby”. she nods her head when you pass, smiling when you do something well. leah could see from the corner of her eyes her two best friends recording her and taking photos of her, knowing they would share them with you to make fun of her but she just didn’t care, she focused her entire attention on you and you only.

the whistle signals the end of the first half, spain was in the lead by 3 goals to 1, one of them an assist from you. leah watches as you walk towards the tunnel with your water bottle, you make eye contact with her, smiling excitedly at her. she returns the gesture, blowing you a quick kiss, grinning as you return the favour before returning to the change room.

her grin disappears when she looks over at her friends, them making kissy faces at her. she shakes her head, turning to chat with your family instead, the girls still teasing her behind her back. when you come back out of the tunnel with your team for the second half, her breath hitched seeing you in your jersey again, you looked absolutely breathtaking to her. about 5 minutes into the second half, you decide to take a risk, wanting to impress your fans as well as your wife.

you get the ball from aitana, running from the midfield and taking the shot. leah knows you can shoot from a distance like this, practising with you back at home, this doesn’t mean she’s not absolutely freaking out, her hands covering her mouth again watching you. the ball curves from your foot, landing in the top right of the box, the keeper just missing it. you scream in celebration, running towards aitana and celebrating while the rest of your team jump on top of you.

leah, your family and her two best friends were jumping up and down screaming. leah having the biggest smile on her face, only growing wider seeing your bright smile with ‘williamson’ on your back.

you quickly run towards the friends and family section again, blowing a big kiss towards leah and everyone else. in the corner of your eye, you spot the camera man filming you, you gesture them to come closer to you, spinning around and showing your back, then holding up the number one while smiling brightly. leah slightly tears up from your goal but her tears fall again at your celebration on the big screen, that was her wife, she literally couldn’t believe it.

the game concludes 4-1 win for spain. your team does a victory lap and you move around taking pictures and giving signatures when you feel familiar, strong arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. you laugh gleefully when you’re placed back down. turing around quickly and jumping on leah, she quickly catches you by your thighs, holding you tightly against her body.

she looks up at you with a bright grin,

“mrs williamson, you evil woman!” she mocks,

“what do you mean, mrs williamson?” you joke with a smirk,

“you look beautiful with our name on your back, baby, couldn’t take my eyes off you” you smile sheepishly as her, cupping her face and pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, she whines when you pull away to speak to her.

“so you liked my surprise, mi amor (my love)?” you tilt your head to the side, already knowing the answer based on how tightly she’s holding you and how pink her cheeks are.

“i-” she starts, interrupted busy her two best friends, forming a circle around you, linking their hands and rotating around the two of you.

“oh definitely more than like, (y/n/n), she’s a proper fan!” georgia says with a laugh

“oh yeah, the girl was fangirling so hard like she didn’t marry you” keira adds, laughing hard with georgia.

leah looks up at you sternly, placing you on the ground, giving you a tight lipped smile and a quick kiss on your lips. “excuse me for a minute, baby?” you hesitantly nod at her. the two girls already know their fate, running away as quick as they could with leah hot on their trail. you shake your head at them, going to spend some time with your family before they left.

you took leah into the change room with you after saying goodbye to everyone, leah was taking you home after this. when you get inside, you peel off the shirt and throw it next to you, leah rushing forward and picking it up and dusting it off.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she exclaims and holds the jersey to her chest offendedly,

“what-” you look at her confused,

“do you understand how special this is!” she starts, scoffing at your confused face, “you think i’m going to let my wife’s first williamson jersey get dirty when i’m going to frame it and hang it up in the house?” you laugh loudly at her, stopping when she gives you a glare, realising she wasn’t joking.

“mi amor (my love), it’s already dirty! i’ve been sweating in it for 90 minutes, i can get you a new one-” she shakes her head at you, “don’t try me, williamson” neatly folding up the jersey and holding it close to her. you smile at her, grabbing her around the neck and pulling her down into a hug, she quickly reciprocates, running her hands up and down your now exposed waist.

she lets you go quickly shower, coming out dressed completely head to toe in her clothes, you were killing her. has she seen you in her clothes all the time?, yes. did she marry you? yes. she still had the same reaction as she first did, both of you so completely in love with each other, it was sickening.

leah kept her word and framed your jersey, you convincing her to do the same with hers and hanging them side by side in your living room. now everyone knows the superstar couple, the williamsons were inseparable.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

just pretend it’s youuu - ily wally!

liked by stanwaygeorgia and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: back from national camp with my baby, the williamsons are back in action!

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yourname: williamson supremacy, baby!

↳ leahwilliamsonn: fuck yeah

stanwaygeorgia: simp

↳ keirawalsh: simp

↳ leahwilliamsonn: uh, duh, have you seen her?

↳ yourname: stop it, i’m blushing

↳ leahwilliamsonn: oh yeah?

↳ keirawalsh: MY EYES

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 4 months ago

Text

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au idea! This story was actually supposed to be a part of my fic "What to do When an Eldritch God Decides That You're Friend-Shaped", but I decided that this idea didn't really mesh well with the rest of that fic and would probably be better off as its own separate story.

And I will say, in my opinion, that this is probably one of my best au ideas yet. I had so much fun just writing this! Also, heads up, this post is going to be very long because I really love this idea! So, I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this au, which is set post-Camlann, Morgana wasn't able to take Merlin's magic away before the battle, so Merlin was able to save Arthur and defeat both Mordred and Morgana without revealing his magic. He was also able to prevent Gwaine's death since he kept Morgana preoccupied in the battle. So, Camelot is saved, and everything is great!

Except, Arthur has some questions. He knows from Morgana's furious screams during the battle that she was killed by a sorcerer named "Emrys", but Arthur never saw him. And Arthur recognized that name from when Morgana taunted him years ago by saying "Not even Emrys can save you now."

Arthur knows that he owes his kingdom and perhaps his life to this Emrys guy, but he knows nothing about him other than that he's a very powerful sorcerer, more powerful than Morgana. This frightens Arthur, as he doesn't know what Emrys wants or why he helps Arthur. For all Arthur knows, Emrys could be just biding his time to take over Camelot and was simply doing away with his competition by killing Morgana.

After things calmed down after the battle of Camlann, Arthur decides that he needs more information on Emrys. Who he is, what are his motives, how can they find him, and a million other details that Arthur needs to ensure his people's safety. He first goes to Gaius for information, but Gaius can tells him that, according to the myths of the Old Religion, Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and is held in high regard by the druids.

Gaius's answer only heightens Arthur's alarm, as the prospect of having to fight to most powerful sorcerer ever is terrifying to him. However, he still doesn't have any good information on Emrys, so he goes to the next best source: the druids.

Thanks to Arthur making peace with the druids after promising the ghost of the young druid boy and permitting them to use their magic for peaceful purposes only, there were a couple druid camps not far from Camelot. Arthur picked the closer one and took a day to travel there alongside Merlin and a few knights in the hopes of finally getting some answers.

When they arrive at the camp, they're met with worried glances and panicked faces, but the druid elders welcome them into the camp nonetheless, offering them all a seat by their campfire and warm meal. Once they got settled and Arthur exchanged some pleasantries with Iseldir, the druid chieftain, Arthur was finally able to ask what had been plaguing him for weeks.

"Iseldir, I know that your people hold a sorcerer named Emrys in high regard, and it's come to my attention that he was responsible for Morgana's defeat at Camlann and possibly on other occasions. Please, I need to know more about him and why he's chosen to help me."

Several people froze and tensed at Arthur's questions, including Merlin. Arthur sighed internally at Merlin's usual panic. He knew that Merlin could become easily scared in the face of magic, so he should have knows that his friend wouldn't approve of Arthur actively seeking out a dangerous sorcerer.

After a short, tense pause, Iseldir clears his throat and responds.

"I'd be happy to answer some of your questions about the god of magic!"

Wait, did Arthur hear that correctly? God of magic?! Arthur, in his shock, blurted out,

"Emrys is a god?! I had heard that he was a powerful sorcerer, not some deity!"

Iseldir chuckled a bit before responding,

"Emrys is indeed the god of magic in the Old Religion, the son of the Triple Goddess herself! He is not simply the master of magic, but rather magic itself, its very incarnation!"

That... was a rather frightening prospect, and it confused Arthur even further. Why would magic itself fight against Morgana? Why take Arthur's side? And, perhaps more importantly, was Arthur going to have to fight a god in order to protect his kingdom?!

Iseldir continued before Arthur's hysterical thought could bubble up to the surface.

"As I said, I'm happy to answer your questions, but please know that there are some secrets that Emrys has entrusted our people with that we cannot divulge, and there are some truths that might be... difficult for you in particular."

Arthur frowned at Iseldir's answer, unsure of what to make of it.

"What do you mean it might be difficult for me in particular?"

Iseldir winced a bit, grimacing like he didn't know how to respond without warranting a negative response.

"Well, there are some elements of Emrys's story that intertwine with your own life in some ways that you might not expect or be ready to hear at this point. Your life and Emrys's are highly connected, King Arthur, even if you don't know the extent of it yet."

Arthur's eyes widened at this admission. His life was connected to this mysterious god of the old religion? How could that possibly be true? He had didn't even know that Emrys was a god until a few moments ago! However, as curious as he was about what Iseldir could be talking about, he had more pressing matters at hand.

"We can discuss how I am connected to Emrys later. For now, I need answers to more important questions. Why does Emrys help Camelot? What is he hoping to get out of it?"

Iseldir looked much happier to answer this question, speaking calmly with a serene smile on his face.

"Emrys had many reasons to stand against the witch. She frequently hunted down and killed more peaceful magic users who did not share her taste for vengeance and bloodshed, including our fellow druids and even the Catha, a small sect of priests of the Old Religion that followed Emrys's will. Emrys fought against Morgana to protect these followers of his from her wrath."

Arthur nodded at Iseldir's explanation. As odd as it felt to have something in common with a god of the Old Religion, he could understand very well the drive to protect his own people. If Emrys's people were also in danger because of Morgana, it made sense for him to join forces with Arthur, even if Arthur was unaware of that alliance. Seeing Arthur's understanding, Iseldir continued with his explanation.

"Emrys also fought against Morgana in order to punish her for her hubris and use of dark magic. There are certain dark arts that take the power that Emrys grants us and twist it into a horrible force, bound only by the will of its user. Such arts are expressly forbidden by Emrys, and he cannot control what sorcerers do with such magic after its been corrupted so thoroughly. Morgana frequently used such forbidden arts and claimed the title of high priestess while ignoring the will of the gods, even the one that she drew her power from. Emrys is normally slow to anger, but for such transgressions, he became furious with Morgana and sought to punish her for treason against magic itself."

Arthur understood that a little bit less, but he could also relate to Emrys's reasoning as a king who had also had to punish some of his own citizens for treason.

"I can see that Emrys stood opposed to Morgana, but does Camelot have anything to fear from him? I can understand why he might not be very forgiving towards us considering my father's actions during his reign."

To Arthur's immense relief, Iseldir shook his head slightly before providing an explanation.

"No, Camelot has nothing to fear from Emrys. He knows that not everyone in Camelot agreed with your father's actions, and he can see progress that you've made since the end of your father's reign. In fact, Emrys has assisted Camelot many times even when Morgana wasn't involved!"

Arthur reeled backwards in shock at Iseldir words. The god of magic, helping Camelot freely? Despite everything his father had done?! Iseldir's explanation forced Arthur to re-evaluate what he knew of the Old Religion.

He had always seen the Old Religion and its gods as monstrous and barbaric. However, that wasn't the case, was it? Emrys had saved the kingdom that sought to destroy him. The Disir had shown Mordred mercy, even though Arthur had rejected their offer. The White Goddess had restored Guinevere's soul at the Cauldron of Arianrhod and healed her of Morgana's curse. Were all of the gods and goddesses of the Old Religion so benevolent and kind? Had Arthur misunderstood the Old Religion for his entire life?

However, Arthur was still shocked at Emrys in particular choosing to help Camelot, supposedly with no ulterior motives besides a common enemy in Morgana. That was how Camelot had survived against such odds? How could it be that magic itself was on their side?!

As Arthur looked at Iseldir again however, he noticed that the druid chieftain's face had pulled into a grimace again. Arthur certainly knew that look, he had seen it on the faces of his council members frequently.

"There's something that you aren't telling me, isn't there? I know that there are some things that you may be hesitant to divulge, but please, I must know everything I can about Emrys, for the safety of my kingdom."

Iseldir paused again, sighing deeply. He sat still for a moment, as if pondering how to proceed.

"Truthfully, there is another reason why Emrys assisted you, but it involves what I spoke of earlier, wen I said that your life and Emrys's are connected in ways that you may not expect. I am willing to tell you such things, but these truths might be hard for you to hear."

Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity piqued again.

"I have learned many uncomfortable truths about my own life through the years, so I will ask you: how could my life be connected to the god of magic?"

Iseldir nodded at Arthur's words and began speaking with a serious, nearly grim, voice.

"I assume that you are familiar with how life is exchanged in the practice of the Old Religion? For any life give, a life must be taken."

Arthur flinched backwards at Iseldir's words, already recognizing what topic was about to be brought up. He had come to terms with the truth of his birth years ago, but hearing it again didn't make it any easier. Blinking back tears, Arthur responded.

"Yes, I... I know. I'm aware that my father made a deal with the priestess Nimueh to secure an heir, and I know that my mother was the one who paid the price in the end."

Arthur heard quiet gasps coming from the knights around him, while Merlin silently put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder. Iseldir, after a moment, continued with his explanation.

"You are correct in your understanding, however, there is one part of the story that you are unaware of."

Arthur jolted in shock at Iseldir's words. There was more to the story of his birth? Frantically, Arthur started asking questions.

"What do you mean? What haven't I been told?"

Iseldir patiently and softly answered Arthur's questions, trying to soften the crushing revelation that he was about to tell Arthur.

"The balance of life and death is at the very core of the Old Religion. However, it is not the power of creation. The power over life and death was used by the high priestesses to resurrect and bring life to someone who has already passed. To magically create a new life, a new soul, from nothing is an act of creation, something that takes far more power than manipulating the balance of life and death. An act of creation takes the power of a god."

"I... I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am sorry that you had to find out this way, King Arthur. But in order to successfully ensure that your mother and father had an heir, Nimueh called upon the power of her patron god: Emrys."

This time, it was Arthur was gasped in shock at this information, hysteria rising in him once again.

"Are you telling me that Emrys was responsible for my very creation?! That it was his power that created me?!"

"More than that, I'm afraid. To create your soul, Emrys did more than just weave his own power into a life. He cut out a shard of his own soul and breathed life into it, thus creating you. While we don't know his reasons for doing so, Emrys created you from a part of his own being."

Arthur felt like his breath had just been punched out of him. What... what did this mean?!

Iseldir must have seen his panic, and further clarified.

"In the eyes of the gods, this made Emrys your true creator and, in the eyes of the magical world, your father."

At those words, Arthur stopped breathing entirely. Unbeknownst to Iseldir, who kept going with his explanation, Arthur entire worldview was collapsing in on itself.

Magic itself was his father?! What did that even mean?!

And oh god was he even a Pendragon? Did he even have a legitimate claim to the throne of Camelot?!

Arthur's panic was so strong that he could barely feel how Merlin's supportive hand on his shoulder was now clenching hard enough to bruise.

(Meanwhile, inside Merlin's panicking mind: WTF??! Oh shit I owed HOW MUCH to Uther Pendragon in child support?! Am I a deadbeat dad to my own best friend??)

"This is why you triumphed over any foe, magical or otherwise. Emrys forbade any magic from truly harming you, and he rose to protect you when you needed him. He will always fight by your side, as you are, in many ways, a part of him."

Iseldir paused, now noticing Arthur's hyperventilating.

"I assume that you have many questions following this news. Please, feel free to ask anything, there's no need to be scared by this!"

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to keep from laugh hysterically. No need to be scared?! His entire life had just been turned on its head!

"If... if Emrys is my true father, what about Uther? Do I even have a claim to my throne?"

"Ah, there's no need to worried about that. While Emrys might be your father in terms of your soul, Uther is still your father in terms of blood. Do not fret, King Arthur, you are still of Pendragon blood and have every rightful claim to your throne."

Arthur calmed down a bit at Iseldir's words, breathing much easier now. This explained so many things about Arthur's life, how he had survived in situations that he by all means shouldn't have. Still, he had many questions for Iseldir.

"If I am truly the son of magic itself, am I even human, or am I some sort of demigod?"

At this question, Iseldir shook his head.

"That, I truly do not know. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone knows the answer to that question except for Emrys himself."

Finally, an idea occurred to Arthur. He stiffened as he blurted out,

"Can I speak with him then? Is there any way to summon him?"

As soon as the idea took root in Arthur's mind, he couldn't get it out. Emrys had to have been looking out for Arthur for many years now, using his power to protect him. This notion of having a secret father who had been caring for him for years almost felt like having a second chance.

Arthur never had the relationship with Uther that he wanted. There was no affection, no bonding, and no comfort to be found there. Only expectations and demands.

But Emrys had apparently been helping Arthur for years with no expectations and no demands. Arthur had fantasized as a young boy about what it would have been like to have a kind, caring father, the kind he saw doting on their children in the marketplace. Now, it almost seemed like he had another chance of having a father, one who truly cared about him!

So naturally, Arthur wanted to meet him! Both the druids and the knights look slightly confused at Arthur's excited outburst about wanting to meet Emrys, but the druids tell him that they have everything that they need to perform a summoning ritual, but they'd need some time to set it up.

Arthur asks if they can set it up for him, and they nod and walk away to begin preparations. Meanwhile, Merlin and the knights ask Arthur if he's just lost his mind. They know that this must be shocking for him, but does he need to summon a god?!

Merlin shows the most vocal opposition to Arthur's plan, saying that they still don't even know if they can trust Emrys. All they have to go on is the word of the druids, and they seem pretty biased in Emrys's favor.

Arthur smiles and tells Merlin that he appreciates his protectiveness, but this is something that Arthur needs to do. He needs this closure, this chance to connect with his last living parent.

Arthur does take Merlin's concerns into consideration though, and orders for his men to leave the camp and take Merlin with them, so they're far away and protected if Emrys turns out to be untrustworthy.

(As the knights drag a struggling Merlin away, Merlin is frantically talking with Iseldir in his mind about what the summoning ritual entails and what it looks like. If he magically pops up next to Arthur right as Arthur does a ritual to summon Emrys, even Arthur would be able to put two and two together!

Luckily, Iseldir informs him that the summoning ritual will summon his soul, not his body, and Arthur wouldn't be able to recognize him. Still, Merlin tried to talk the druids out of the ritual, because Merlin doesn't want his soul to get yanked out of his body! But there was little that the druids could do with Arthur insisting on the ritual.)

After preparing the materials for the ritual, the druids take Arthur back into a tent to get him ready. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with both excitement and fear as the druids walked him through what he had to do.

First, they gave him some plain but comfortable robes to change in to. They explained that Emrys preferred his followers to come to him in the garments of peace, not war, so his armor, chainmail, and weapons would have to be left in the tent.

After changing into the robes, Arthur felt strangely both vulnerable and comforted. As the druids rubbed some flowery smelling oil into his arms and then led him to a small wooden altar, Arthur couldn't help comparing this experience to approaching Uther.

Whenever he was meeting with his father, Arthur was expected to show no weakness, no flaws. He had to look the part of the warrior prince, trained since birth and hardened by battle. However, here with Emrys, Arthur was dressed in comfortable clothes and told to simply ask for Emrys's presence before the altar. He didn't need a sacrifice or penance or any sort of challenge to summon Emrys. All that the druids told him was to "call for him, and Emrys will answer."

Placing one hand gently on the wooden surface of the intricately carved altar, Arthur cleared his throat wetly before saying aloud to the empty space in front of him,

"Emrys, I'm... I'm not sure if you're here, but I'm your- your son, Arthur. You probably know me already, though, since you've been helping me and protecting me for a long time now. I- I wanted to thank you for your help. So, I would appreciate it if you could appear, so I could meet you and thank you in person."

There, Arthur thought that was a pretty good introduction! This was his first time meeting his new father, so he needed to make a good first impression!

Arthur stood, awkwardly shifting on his feet as he tried to push down his disappointment with each passing moment that Emrys did not appear. Maybe Arthur did it wrong? Maybe Emrys hadn't heard him? Or maybe Emrys had heard him, but was disappointed in Arthur and deemed him a weak son, just like Uther had?

As Arthur tried to swallow down his hurt, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light above the altar. It was so bright that Arthur had to throw his hand in front of his eyes and turn away, but his heart leapt at the sight.

Was this it?! Was he about to meet his creator and have another chance at having a father?

As soon as he could, Arthur lowered his hand and opened his eyes, anxiously awaiting his first glimpse at Emrys! As the light died down, Arthur was able to make out the outline of something...

As the light slowly dwindled, Arthur could see a bright, glowing ball of golden light, very similar to the one that had saved him from that cave so many years ago, floating above the altar. His eyes widened as he realized what, or more likely who, this light must be.

Emrys was a god after all, Arthur really shouldn't have assumed that he'd look like a human. The god of magic taking a human form, what a crazy idea!

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Arthur called out to the light.

"Emrys? Is that you?"

At his words, the light floated down from the altar until it was hovering right in front of Arthur, an arm's reach away. Arthur fought the urge to reach out and touch the light, just to see if it was real and not just a product of his own wishful thinking.

After a couple seconds, the ball of light flashed, and Arthur heard what sounded like multiple voices coming from it, speaking in unison.

"Hello Arthur. I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you. I am Emrys."

(Elsewhere, Merlin mentally patted himself on the back for making his soul-self sound sufficiently inhuman and speak in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. Arthur couldn't possibly figure his identity out now!)

Arthur let out a sound that was something between a joyful laugh and a sob. Emrys actually came! Clearing his throat, Arthur tried to calm down his excitement and nerves and put on his best diplomat voice. He needed to start off strong here!

"I'm glad that we could meet as well. It's come to my attention that I have many things to thank you for, including Camelot's victory over Morgana in our latest battle. You might have saved all of Camelot, and I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Emrys silently floated in place for a moment, making Arthur sweat with nervousness. Had he already blown his one chance of having a caring parent?

Finally, Emrys's... orb body (what else was Arthur supposed to call it?!) glowed again and spoke with his multiple voices overlapping in harmony.

"You do not owe me anything, Arthur. There are no debts between us. We are family, tied together by our very souls. You never have to feel indebted to me for protecting you and Camelot. I do it not for a reward or recognition, but because I care for you."

Arthur's eyes misted over as he took in Emrys's words. How many times had he wished to hear anything like that from Uther? How many nights had he lied awake wondering what unconditional love from a parent would feel like?

As tears started silently rolling down Arthur's face, Emrys drifted closer to him. Arthur was startled by this move and didn't really know how to respond. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to ball of light, unsure of what to do.

Slowly, the light moved towards Arthur's outreached hands. Arthur almost expected to flinch back upon contact, but instead, when his hands finally touched the ball of light itself, he was only met with a warm, comforting sensation, and he instantly relaxed and leaned into it. The only thing he could compare it to were those warm hugs that Merlin gave him whenever he felt down, which he would never admit to Merlin that he enjoyed.

Arthur gently guided the light closer, until he was hugging it against his chest and that wonderful warm fuzzy feeling was spreading through his entire body. Arthur wondered if this counted as getting a hug from his father, and then immediately decided that the answer was yes. And his new father apparently gave very good hugs.

Arthur stayed with Emrys for several more minutes, until the sun was setting. From there, Emrys told him that he had spent too much time in the mortal realm and couldn't hold his form for much longer without taking time to rest. Panicking, Arthur asked if he would be able to see Emrys again, he couldn't lose his new father so soon after meeting him!

Emrys reassured him that they'd see each other again soon and that he'd be by Arthur's side the whole time, even if Arthur couldn't see him. Comforted by this news, Arthur bid his new father farewell, and the ball of light slowly dissipated.

Arthur then returned to Merlin and his knights, who had a million questions for Arthur. Arthur answered their burning questions as best he could, and they were relieved to see that Arthur was safe and not scarred by the experience of talking to the god of magic.

The next day, they returned to Camelot, and Arthur soon realized that even if he couldn't see Emrys himself, he could certainly the effects that Emrys had on the world around him.

Arthur never fell sick, his rooms were never too hot or too cold, his muscles were never sore from training, his attackers that snuck into the castle never managed to land a hit on him, his kingdom's crops prospered, and a million other things went right in Arthur's life, and for the very first time, Arthur understood.

Magic loved him. And, more importantly, his father loved him.

And it didn't escape other people's notice either. He had told the knights that he had brought with him to the druid camp to not discuss the revelation of his relationship to Emrys, but one knight got drunk at the tavern and told his friend, and someone overheard, and now everyone in the kingdom had heard the news that King Arthur was apparently the son of a god.

The fact that Arthur had secretly prayed for Emrys's help when Gaius reported about a deadly plague in the lower town, only for Emrys to immediately appear again as a ball of light in the middle of a council meeting in front of dozens of witnesses didn't help Arthur keep it a secret either.

(Meanwhile, Merlin hears all of Arthur's prayers for Emrys. He's able to take care of most of Arthur's concerns just as Merlin, but a very powerful/emotional prayer from Arthur actually summons him in his "Emrys" form, leading to some awkward moments, but he makes it work for Arthur's sake.)

On the bright side of Arthur's heritage being revealed, other kingdoms were now much more open to peaceful negotiations and trade deals.

And on one occasion where a very foolish king tried to declare war on Arthur, the enemy king's army only made it a hundred yards of Camelot's forces before the earth itself broke open into a wide chasm that started swallowing the leaders of the enemy army whole. No one was stupid enough to attempt an attack on Camelot after that.

Life goes on like this for about a year, until Arthur catches Merlin using magic for some mundane purpose. Arthur is shocked of course, but magic has been legal for a while now. When he questions Merlin on where he learned magic from, Merlin stammers and says "Well... uh, Emrys..."

Arthur cut Merlin off, yelling because apparently his father was teaching Merlin magic behind his back?! What was that about!

Merlin then decides to take this misunderstanding and roll with it, because there's no way in hell that he's looking Arthur in the eyes and telling him that he's actually Arthur's magical father.

Merlin spins a story about how Emrys had been slowly teaching Merlin magic so Merlin could help Arthur out and always have someone nearby with magic to protect him! Arthur accepts this story, but is secretly a little bit jealous. How come Emrys chose to teach Merlin magic and not his own son?

After Arthur asks Emrys about this, Emrys apologizes to Arthur, saying that he didn't know if Arthur would be interested. He then starts trying to teach Arthur magic (to pretty much no success). To further apologize to Arthur, Emrys gives him a gift! Emrys had apparently heard about how Uther had forbidden Arthur from having a pet as a child despite Arthur begging for one, so Emrys decided to remedy this by giving Arthur a baby dragon to take care of and to train to protect Camelot.

Everyone else is alarmed by this, but Arthur is almost moved to tears because he loves the little dragon so much already!

And this au is already wayyyy too long, so I'll cut it off there! I'm tempted to call this the "Arthur gets catfished into a healthy parental relationship" au lol!

I hope you all enjoyed this au! Sorry about it being longer than usual, but I had a lot that I wanted to write about this au idea! And if you want to see even more of this au, feel free to let me know if you'd like a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my (very long) ramblings! :D

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #emrys #god merlin #merlin prompts

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midniiights-garden · 11 months ago

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Mizu realising she's in love/a lesbian [Headcanons!!]

(A/N: I feel like this is like... already a given but please remember that these are HEADCANONS!! She does not have a canon sexuality. And I know it's mostly the lesbians who haven taken over the show but my content is available for everyone to see and I wanted to remind everyone that I am not going to tolerate slander or trash talking because of a personal opinion. You are entitled to your thoughts and I am entitled to mine.)

Possible TWs!!: Mentions of sex and sexual encounters, M*kio (you cannot stop me from putting this man as a warning I hate him sm), Canon typical violence, Racisim, Homophobia, Mysogyny (did I spell that right??)

Firstly I wanna address her relationship with Mikio in order to fully understand my headcanons.

Personally I do not believe that Mizu actually "loved" Mikio in the romantic sense. She thought she was in love, but in the end it wasn't.

Speaking as someone with a lot of personal trauma regarding relationships myself I realised that I couldn't differentiate between romantic and platonic love. Basically, for me, all I saw was that someone was treating me nicely for once and now I'm attached to them. And for the longest time I thought that was what love was.

And I think Mizu experienced something similar.

Basically, when Mikio treated her like a fucking human being she was like "oh, hey this is nice. This is weird, but it's nice. So I guess I'm in love, right?"

Like, no, baby. You aren't. That's just called emotional trauma.

That's also why she thought she was straight for the longest time because she genuinely cannot tell when she likes someone romantically.

As I often restate it'll take a while for her to fully understand the extent of her emotions, but she'll get there.

Now onto the fluffier stuff :))

~~~

How does she realise she's in love? What's her reaction to it?

I think she gets hit with the realisation as if it were a train crashing into her.

It's just a normal evening, she's probably at a ramen shop with her future S/O with her and then as she's taking a bite of her ramen she looks over at you and thinks: "Huh... I wonder what it would be like if I got to hold them?"

And then it's just a record scratch moment for her where she's like wtf where did that come from.

It's either just normal domestic moment like I mentioned or her future S/O sparring with her (which may or not freak her out bc of the fucking Mikio incident).

But when Mizu successfully pins her S/O down they just laugh and smile, knowing Mizu would never hurt them on purpose.

That made Mizu's heart flutter more than anything Mikio had ever done for her.

She's going to be in denial about it for a long time. Like... a really, really long time. Cue the "but we're just friends"!

How does she react when she realises she's into girls?

Due to the internalized homophobia instilled within her as a child and other such thoughts she starts to think she may be going crazy.

She'll start to pull away out of fear, not truly understanding her emotions.

Which, of course, will hurt her future S/O and cause them to worry.

Seeing her future S/O so distraught kind of triggers something in her. She realises that there's nothing inherently wrong with her, that she's still a person and the person she likes is still a person and that there shouldn't be anything wrong with liking her S/O. She also just didn't like seeing you worry over her, it hurt her more than any blade that she's been stabbed with.

Now onto her actual physical attraction.

Once the whole emotional side of it is somewhat sorted in her mind she finds herself not so subtly staring at her S/O's tatas.

She doesn't strike me as someone with high libido or anything despite what I've seen a lot of headcanons say. But I think shes the kind of lover to enjoy getting her S/O off a lottttt

I don't believe she was ever really attracted to Mikio sexually but seeing her S/O's kimono slip off their shoulder to reveal some titty has her red and hot.

She likes that it's soft. She really likes the softness of her S/O's body.

~~~

(A/N: That's all!! I feel like I was terribly self-indulgent with this one but there are a lot of aspects in which I relate to Mizu with. Which is probably why I care a lot about representing her correctly. As usual, feel free to comment or send asks to my inbox!! I hope y'all enjoyed <33)

#mizu blue eye samurai #i love women #wlw #blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #i love fictional characters #mizu come home the kids miss you #mizu #x reader fluff #mizu x you #x reader #x you #x you fluff #reader insert #fem!reader #gn!reader

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ceesimz · 8 months ago

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Forget I Asked

It was nearing 2am when you finally got bored of your endless spiralling. Alexia seemed content behind you, both of you bare as her chest was pressed against your back and one of her arms was draped over your side, the fingertips of her large hand tracing lightly over your stomach. You figured she was asleep really, as the moon barely lit the room through your open window that you had been staring out of for the past however long.

You couldn't quite put your finger on why your mind seemed relentless tonight. It had been an amazing day with your girlfriend, finally reunited with her after a long international camp kept you two apart, and it had been followed by an even better evening-turned-night as the pair of you spent a fair amount of time reacquainting yourselves with each other's bodies. But a thought was plaguing you, preventing you from slipping off the cusp of exhaustion which you so desperately wanted.

"Ale." You say into the quiet room as you lay together, eyes wide and fixated on nothing, blurred over. When you seemingly got no answer, missing the hum Alexia gave, you call out again. "Ale, are you awake?"

"Sí amor, what is the matter?" Alexia rasps, blindly searching for your hand. You assist her, leading to the blonde woman behind you completely covering your hand with her own and intertwining your fingers together. "Venga, bebé, habla. Puedo escuchar tu mente corriendo." (Come on, baby, talk. I can hear your mind racing.)

"I..." You hesitate and sigh dejectedly. Alexia's concern grows instantly, sobering her from her exhaustion. She presses a few comforting kisses to the back your neck and squeezes your hand.

"Say it, bebíta. I am listening." She whispers reasurringly.

"Would you ever come to England with me?" You finally ask. When a few silent moments pass by as Alexia collects her thoughts, you sigh again and press the side of your face further into the pillow, frustrated for bringing it up, for asking, for even thinking it. "Forget I asked, Ale, it's okay. Vete a dormir, es tarde." (Go to sleep, it's late.)

Alexia frowns and leans up on one of her elbows, gently using one of her large hands to pull you onto your back.

"Hey, let me answer." Alexia starts. You look up at her with such sad, hopeless, and weary eyes, that it breaks her heart. "I would go to England with you."

"Really?" You ask in a flat voice with no hesitation, completely unconvinced. "I know you don't like it there."

She frowns impossibly more, using a hand to hold your chin tenderly and caress the soft skin there.

"If I have said that, I don't mean it. I have never explored England, I've never had a reason to go there other than for football. But I have a reason now; I have you. It's not that I do not like it, amor, I have never had an interest before. But like I showed you Barcelona and my home, you show me your home. I have a big reason to go now, that is you. There is no bigger reason, no other thing that could convince me to go there."

You take a deep breath and rub a hand over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you speak your next words.

"Yeah but you just said it: you need 'convincing' to go. I don't want to force you or convince you to come, I want you to choose to come." Your voice has a fair amount of exasperation in it, and Alexia realises that you had been stressing about this for quite some time now.

"No, amor. Maybe I am not saying it right." Her eyebrows press down into an unsure scowl as she tries to find the right words in English to convey her feelings. "I do not need convincing, I want to go with you. I want to see your life, I want to meet your old friends, I want to meet your family. Everything that is important to you that I have not seen or understood yet because it is to do with your life in England, I want to see it. I want you to show me your country and I want to know why you love it. I do not need convincing. I have a big, big reason to go now and that is love, that is you, as my girlfriend and my family and my love. Does that make sense? It is the truth." Alexia explains, gazing adoringly down into your eyes, desperately trying to non-verbally convey her point too with the earnest she holds in her eyes.

"¿Estás seguro?" You mumble quietly. (You're sure?)

Alexia smiles and takes hold of your left hand that was fidgeting with the edge of the comforter. Then, she raises it to her mouth and kisses your ring finger, something she often did that would drive you crazy.

"Estoy seguro, amor. Promesa." Alexia tells you, causing you to let out a sigh of relief. "Bebé, has this been in your mind for a long time?" (I'm sure, love, promise.)

"Yes." You admit a little shamefully, looking back down at your free hand that continued to anxiously mess with the duvet. There were tears forming in your eyes, and such events were not what Alexia thought would happen after the day and consequential night you'd had.

Alexia didn't like it when you did this - keeping your insecure thoughts away from her. She would do anything for you, and when she thought of you struggling alone with something she could help with, it pained her.

"Ay, my love. Mírame." Alexia demands softly, smiling when you lift your head to glance up at her with sad, glossy eyes. "If this happens again, something on your mind and hurting you, tell me. Sólo quiero ayudarte, siempre. Any problem, we can work against it together. Together, vale?" (I just want to help you, always.)

You nod, but that niggling, insecure voice hasn't left.

"I was scared to bring it up." You mumble, resulting in Alexia frowning again.

"¿Por qué?" She asks, squeezing your hand again.

"I don't know, I just..." You sigh and shrug your shoulders. "I was pretty sure, in my head, that you would say no and I didn't want to face that reality."

"But it is not a reality, amor. I am telling you, promising you I want to go. I am so happy you asked me because that means you are... opening up a new section, a new chapter, of your life to me that you are comfortable with me seeing. That means a lot to me, bebé, I am excited. I will see a new side of you, I think, and I love all sides of you." Alexia answers, saying all the right things and healing all the right cracks in your mind.

"Really?" You can't help yourself asking, giggling quietly when Alexia rolls her eyes affectionately.

"Sí, I am excited. We will look at our calendars and plan a time to go. It can be as long as you want, even all Summer long if you really want." Alexia offers with a grin.

"Alexia Putellas offering to swap her yearly Ibiza holiday for a trip to sad little England? Am I hearing right?" You tease. Alexia drops her head to your shoulder with a groan.

"I am not Alexia Putellas with you when I am naked in bed, amor." She grumbles, voice muffled by the comforter.

You smile widely this time, placing a hand on the back of her head and carefully combing through her hair with your fingers.

"Ale, mi novia perfecta y guapa." You say, your hand falling to the back of her neck when she lifts her head up.

"Eso es mejor." Alexia whispers, leaning forward to softly kiss you. The pure tenderness of it contrasts the night's previous kisses, but it is so perfect in this moment that you both end up smiling uncontrollably into it. When you break apart, matching grins on your faces, Alexia drops your hand finally and moves hers to rest on your cheek instead. "You should sleep now, amor. If I remember right, I think I tired you out."

You roll your eyes at the cocky comment, but nevertheless your cheeks flush red.

"Not enough if I'm still awake an hour later." You challenge. Alexia raises her eyebrows and smirks.

"I think challenging me is not in your best interest, bebíta." Alexia states, running her thumb along your lower lip briefly. "Venga, you need sleep. Lay down with me."

She kisses your forehead and lays on her side facing you, urging you to do the same. Your noses are touching once you've copied her position, and you finally feel yourself settle for the night when Alexia ever-so-gently brushes some hair out of your face before trailing her fingers across your cheek and into your hair. She repeats it over and over, knowing that the feeling always comforted you and would eventually lead to you finally succumbing to your exhaustion.

"Now, vete a dormir, mi pequeña pensadora." She whispers.

A few moments pass by before you realise what she had said.

"Did you just call me your little over-thinker?" You ask. The cheeky grin on Alexia's face gives you the answer you need. "Wow."

"You know it is true." Alexia teases once more, admiring you as your eyes fall shut whilst her fingers continue their actions.

"Te amo, Ale." You mumble, opening one eye to look at her. "You always know what to say."

"Porqué te conozco mejor qué esa vocecita malvada en tu cabeza, mi amor." Alexia whispers. You nod slightly with a sheepish smile, knowing that the quiet night and the late hours had gotten to the anxious side of your mind. "Dulces sueños. Haría cualqueir cosa por ti." (Because I know you better than that little evil voice in your head, my love. Sweet dreams. I would do anything for you.)

"Stop being romantic and go to sleep as well." You mumble tiredly, thankfully now on the cusp of sleep.

Alexia chuckles under her breath and shuffles forward slightly so that now your foreheads rest against each other, placing a lingering kiss on your chin before settling down too. Not so long after, the both of you are asleep, hearts beating in sync with the love you both hold soaring through your blood.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months ago

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Alcohol

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You come home to an intervention

It's not that you an actual alcoholic. It's not like you craved it everyday or you couldn't go without it.

You were English though so it was practically a rite of passage to get drunk in a park with your friends from cheap alcohol someone had bullied an adult into buying at the cornerstore. Of course, those times spiralled into massive ragers at someone's house but it's not like you drank when you were meant to be working.

Barcelona was the dream and you felt incredibly lucky to be approached with the chance to play.

But It meant less parties, less time in England, less time with your friends but you were fine with that.

You were capable of keeping your professional life separate from your private one.

You would train and train and train in Spain and then when international break rolled around, you would hop on the first plane back home and party your heart out with your friends.

You were slightly behind on the trends because of that so the first time you hit a vape, you sputtered and coughed and vowed to never do it again. You stuck to that for the most part unless you were blackout drunk but you never really remembered that anyway so it was like it never happened.

When training started back up again, you would go from a party to the airport and then back to Spain, slipping back into the house as quietly as possibly so as to not disturb Alexia.

Your head pounded as you slipped inside. You usually didn't drink too much when you were meant to go to the airport but you still felt a little bit tipsy but somehow, halfway to hungover.

You slipped the sunglasses over your face and took another long swig of your water. You still had the aftertaste of vodka in your mouth.

You slipped into Alexia's house quietly, dumping your bags onto the floor. You didn't have to creep around though because the light switched on and you jumped.

"Jesus," You said," Have you been sitting in the dark all this time? That can't be good for your eyes."

Alexia was sat on her sofa, arms crossed over her chest. Marta and Irene were sitting with her. All of them were wearing the same stern looks that you usually only saw from Alexia.

Alexia's face was murderous as she looked at you. It was the same expression as the one when Mapi took you to get a stick-and-poke tattoo without her permission. Mapi was still a little wary from the scolding she received.

You didn't like where this was going.

"Wearing sunglasses inside ruins your eyesight too," Irene said sternly and your throat bobbed.

If you took them off now then it would basically be incriminating yourself. This looked like an intervention already and you didn't want to confess to something like this if it was actually to do with something different.

So, you just shrugged.

"I've got a bit of a headache. It was a rough flight."

None of the three looked convinced but that was your story and you were going to stick with it.

"Have you got something to tell us?" Marta asked and you knew a trap when you saw one.

You shrugged again, breezily walking to the kitchen like nothing was wrong. Your rummaged around in the fridge, snatching out some breadsticks and hummus.

"Just that you really ought to hit the gym more, Marta," You teased," It's getting boring running circles around you."

You were deflecting but it's all you could think to do.

"Hmm. Really? That's all you have to say?"

You sighed. "Fine. You caught me. I was the one that hid your socks a few weeks ago. They're in one of the boxes in the physio room."

Alexia glared at you and snapped," Don't get smart. You know why we're here."

You scoffed. "Well, I know why you and I are here. We live here. Marta and Irene, though? Coming to steal our food or something?"

"I mean it," Alexia said. She was by far the most strict with you and you knew you were crossing lines by not confessing now but you'd already hit rock bottom. It was time to get the pickaxe out and keep digging.

"Why don't you enlighten me to why there's an intervention in the living room? I haven't done anything wrong?"

"Really?" Irene said," Can you explain this?"

She showed you a picture from your Instagram posted last night. There was nothing bad on it. There were no drinks or vapes.

You shrugged. "It's me and my friends? What, I can't have friends now?"

"Not friends who are bad influences!" Alexia snapped. She grabbed the phone and clicked on someone's profile that you'd tagged.

You knew you were doomed the moment that Alexia showed you the saved stories. This particular friend had a whole folder related to parties and you knew she posted on it regularly, just as regularly as you were a guest at them.

But, still, you were going to stand your ground, even as the evidence was played in front of you.

"It was a one time thing," You lied.

"And this?" Alexia said, scrolling through your friend's account. "And this? What about this one?"

"Oh my god," You laughed in disbelief," Is this really an intervention? I've not done anything wrong!"

"Well," Irene said," You're drinking underage."

"Ha!" You said," It's legal to drink underage in the UK so long as it's in the house. So, there!"

"And the vaping?" Marta asked.

You winced. "Not really my thing. I don't get the appeal."

"Well thank god for that," She said," One thing to check off the list."

"It doesn't matter if it's legal!" Alexia hissed," It's wrong! You're doing it excessively! I tracked the days! For almost every day you're back in England, one of your friends post about you all drinking at a party! It's excessive."

"God, Alexia," You said," That's obsessive. You need a hobby."

Her angry glare made you shut your mouth quickly as she stood. She approached you quickly and you backed up until you hit the wall.

"Maybe I would have time to have hobbies if I wasn't worried about you getting alcohol poisoning when I'm not around!"

"I can drink responsibly!"

"Can you? Because that video of you throwing up in the toilet does not look like responsible drinking!"

"It was one time!"

"One time turns to two and two turns three and then suddenly you're day drinking and you've got a problem!"

You rolled your eyes. "God forbid I have fun with my friends, Alexia."

"This is a bit more than having fun with your friends," Marta said," Is there no other way to have fun with them? Do you do things with them other than partying?"

You stayed silent.

"We're not doing this because we don't think you should have fun," Irene said," We're doing this because we love you and we don't want this to turn into a problem you can't cope with."

Suddenly, all of those was a bit too overwhelming. Your hangover was in fully swing and you were still pressing up against the wall, Alexia in front of you and Marta and Irene flanking her.

"I don't have a problem," You insisted though your voice sounded a little weak.

"We know. We're just making sure that it doesn't become one."

You sniffled a little bit and moved to lay your head on Alexia's shoulder as tears dripped down your face.

"I never see them," You said," I don't want them to stop being my friend because I don't go along with what they're doing."

"If they do that then they were never your real friends to begin with," Alexia said, gently untangling the knots in your hair as you cried against her shoulder," I worry about you when you go back home. I just want you to be safe."

You nodded against her.

The door swung open and you jumped.

Lucy came bursting in. "Sorry, I'm late!" She said," Have we already started the intervention? Because I have helpful images on the effects of alcohol poisoning! And a picture of decayed lungs!"

"Lucy," Irene groaned," That was meant to be an intervention, not traumatising!"

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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babybatss-blog · 2 months ago

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A HELPING HAND

sirius black x reader, 1500 words

summary: if there’s one thing you know, it’s to always trust Professor McGonagall’s advice.

c/w: nerd-ish reader who gets in detention, friends to lovers, confession of love. Mentions of insecurities, but nothing too intense.

a/n: rest in piece to the darling dame maggie smith. I hope I did her and her wonderful character justice, I just wanted to appreciate her in the best way I knew how <3

You’ve always been a good student. You study hard, get good grades and never get in trouble, sometimes even getting made fun of by nasty students for being a nerd. Sirius never made fun of you though, he was always so sweet when you cancelled on him to study for a particularly hard test or ignore him because your too engrossed in writing your essay.

But why does that even matter now? Your strides through the stone hallway break your thoughts, internally cursing yourself for even slightly letting your mind drift from the problem at hand. You got a detention!

Well, not exactly a detention, but it’s as close as you’ll ever get. Your grades have been dropping below your usual impossibly high standards, and now the headmistress has asked to meet with you to discuss your current predicament. Unlike your Black family counterpart, you pride yourself on academic appearances, especially when it comes to higher up authorities like Professor McGonagall.

You knock on the hard wood door three times, the wood rumbling as it opens almost immediately. Before you sits this aforementioned professor, enveloped by a thick leather armchair and adorned in expensive jewellery. Truthfully, you aspire to be like her someday. Commanding and treacherous, yet simultaneously kind and beautiful. Her emerald broach shimmers in the sunlight pouring into her tiny study, and her slick back bun has a few curled whisps falling out. You wonder how she always gets her hair to sit so nice, and how long that must take every morning.

“Good afternoon Miss McGonagall.” You nervously state, quickly walking in and sitting primly in an armchair. She simply nods, going back to whatever letter she is writing with a soft smile. “I presume you know why I called you in today?” “Of course. And I’m very sorry I’ve fallen behind on my schoolwork professor. I promise I will get that transfiguration parchment to you once my defence against the dark arts test is done, and I’ve been studying tirelessly to get my scores to a more appropriate level, I promise.”

Despite the worry evident on your voice, she merely chuckles, acting as if you made a joke. You didn’t make a joke though, so you furrow your brow in concern. Did you say something wrong?

“No my dear. I was just calling you in to ask about your handwriting.” “My-? Oh yes, apologies for the messiness on my last assignment. I was in a bit of a rush, so I think some of my m’s turned into n’s.” Once again she laughs, this time straight from her belly, her head thrown back. You can’t help but feel your face burn up in embarrassment. “Messiness? Why I never! No darling, I meant to ask how it’s so neat! You see, I’ve been attempting to do those same loops you do on capitals, but I’m afraid I can’t replicate it!”

She slides over to you the parchment she was writing on, revealing random sentences repeated in order to practice replicating your font. Truthfully they are quite shaky, but you wouldn’t admit it to her face anytime soon. “Do you mind writing a few sentences for me? Maybe even casting piertotum locomotor on them so I can’t watch it back would be helpful!” You bashfully fulfill your task, writing some simple words on the page in swirling calligraphy. As you do this, your professor casually talks to you.

“I must say though, you were never much of the type to rush projects. What had you in such a hurry?”

“Nothing really, just a trip to Hogsmeade with Sirius Black.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Oh yes, it really was. Sirius wanted to go into town because he ordered a record from the post office that was due to arrive. It was some muggle band, I think it was called The Beatles? He said they are quite popular, and I see why. The singer is dreamy! He played it for me when we got back to school, and he gave me some of his Berty’s Botts Beans. He knows I love them you see, and he always tries to inspect them before he hands them to me so I don’t get the bad ones. Sometimes he gets it wrong, and I have to suffer anyways. But I…” You eventually realise just how much you have been rambling, as the page is suddenly filled with words you didn’t remember writing and you need to take a deep breath to rid of your light headedness. “Yes, I thought it was nice.” You finish up, not wanting to bore her with your story of a typical day out. But she honestly seems quite intrigued, looking at you with a peculiar arched eyebrow.

“You and that Black boy make a strange pair. A good one at that though.” You chuckle along with her, reminiscing on your differences that complement each other perfectly. “Many do say that. He’s a good friend to me.”

“Friend?” She mirrors, an almost offended tone on her voice. She takes the page away from you and blows on it as to help to ink dry, before placing it in a draw of her desk. “I don’t know why, but I always thought you two were together. Never mind me, I’m a silly old lass now.” Usually you are completely and utterly respectful no matter what is thrown at you, but something in her statement sets off a spark in which you immediately regret. “No! no no no no no. Sirius and I would never! I mean, have you seen how he- no, it would never work.”

Professor McGonagall looks at you in a way that can only be described as utter disbelief, and a tiny hint of disappointment before she speaks. “If you say so. But I have to say, I was just like you back in my day. So naïve…” She sighs, looking blissfully off. “You know…” She twists to face you, a smirk causing her features to almost become young once more. “When I was your age, maybe a little younger I liked a guy. Now don’t tell anyone I told you this but… He was a real dashing man. So proper and smart, but he really knew how to dance when the jukebox started!”

Suddenly you feel like Minerva McGonagall’s best friend, gossiping about your childhoods now those days are long gone. Never would you have expected to see this side of her, but you cannot complain when you see that energetic sparkle in her eye.

“And I believe he like me back. When I was tired he would carry me up to my common room, and and would tuck me in real nice and tight. But I never went any further. I was too nervous. So he started dating my friend, and five years later they got married! I hate to admit it but sometimes I wonder how things would’ve turned out. You don’t have to listen to an out of touch woman like me, but you know I have your best interest at heart.”

It takes you a good minute to properly process her words, repeating them in your head and wondering how she could be so right. No one, not even any of your closest friends have ever realised your concealed feelings, the only being hearing them is your little diary under the moonlight, which knows they will never come true. But here is your teacher, completely demolishing your tiny sense of secrecy and legitimising every worry you’ve ever had. When he kisses some random girl at a party you worry it will last between them, when you can’t find him in his usual spots you worry he’s abandoned you and when you look in the mirror you see merely a friend, someone who will never amount to him. But maybe you could. Maybe there is some universe where he feels the same, and you are lucky enough to be in that universe right now. After all, there always is a chance.

“Go and get him.” She orders, staring into your soul with her blue eyes. You nod, tears fighting to leave your eyes as the weight of emotion takes over you. You stand up, thanking her breathlessly before running out.

Professor McGonagall knows that she did the right thing, judging by the conversation she had with Sirius about the same subject just the other day.

#sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #the marauders #hp marauders #babybatss blog #maggie smith #minerva mcgonagall #professor mcgonagall #minnie mcgonagall #headmistress mcgonagall #harry potter

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norrizzandpia · 1 year ago

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Longing Glances and Whispered Confessions (Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: In which the one person they thought would reject them completely is the person that forces them together again.

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, Lando and yn are sad as hell, happy ending tho, Pietra being a real one

Note: i loved this story line also here is the link to part 1 if you need it

“There’s nothing louder than the silence between two people who used to love each other.” - unknown

Lando was never the same. Max noticed the way his best friend suddenly became a shell of a human, dark and blank. The brother was left to question why the closest person to him in his life was no longer than themselves. He tried to take the boy out, bringing him to movies and dinners, trying to understand the root of his depression. However, he began to put it together when he saw the way Y/n lost herself a bit too. If he was being honest, Max always had an idea that they held repressed feelings for each other, but he never entertained it. He was so afraid of that thought that he refused to diagnose their lingering eyes and prolonged touches.

Pietra was the first to voice his internal thoughts, “You know, it’s no coincidence that they’ve both suddenly stopped talking to each other.”

He groaned, looking at her from his side of the couch, “P, I’m not doing this with you again.”

He got up, walking out of the room only for her to follow him. She trailed behind his steps, pushing, “No, you are going to do this with me. I’m not going to let you ruin two people’s happiness because you can’t set your pride aside and let them be at peace.”

He forcefully turned around, staring down at her annoyed, “What are you saying?! They were sneaking around together behind my back?! Come on, P.”

She scoffed, “Maybe they were! You said it yourself that they were spending more time together! What do you think they were doing?”

He shook his head, “Being friends! Like they always have been!”

Pietra let her hands yank at her hair in exhaustion over her boyfriend’s obliviousness, “MAX! WAKE UP! THEY WERE NEVER FRIENDS!”

Her yelling silenced him, his eyes staring at her before floating down to his feet, “You think I really am the source of their unhappiness?”

She sighed, padding over to him and bringing his body into her hold, “I think you played into it, but I don’t think you’re the whole reason why. Y/n and Lando are so stubborn, they probably pushed each other away with how much they love each other.”

His head reared back, “Love each other?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah… Max, you really think they would be this heartbroken over something that wasn’t love?”

The revelation was crushing, his eyes bulged and he stood, jaw agape, “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think they would be able to explore a relationship that much to realize they loved each other.”

She tilted her head, “Max, you don’t know how long they were together.”

And that was something he knew he needed to find out.

—

Lando dragged himself over to his door, eyes drooping from the lack of sleep. No matter how hard he tried, every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her walking out on him.

He opened it, not saying anything as he let Max in. His best friend closed the door behind himself, following Lando into the living room and sitting on the couch beside him. Hesitantly, Max laid his hand on Lando’s knee.

He breathed out, “I’m worried about you.”

The blanket around Lando’s shoulders loosened as he moved his hand to rub over his face, “Why?”

“Because you’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, and you’re canceling on everyone. I keep having Oscar or Carlos or Daniel or any of the other drivers text me asking where you are, what’s wrong. You’re not the same person anymore, Lando.” Max retracted his hand, turning fully on the couch to stare at the boy’s side profile.

Lando huffed, standing up and trying to flee the conversation, but Max was quick to grab his arm, pulling him back. Lando gave Max a look that was so angry, so furious that he realized this anger wasn’t directed at him, rather at the world for putting him through such pain.

“Can you fucking leave me alone?” Lando gave, arm trying to move from Max’s grasp, but failed.

“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me.” Max tried.

Lando rolled his eyes, “Tell you what?”

His response was immediate, “Tell me what happened between you and her.”

Lando fell silent, his demeanor shifting and his eyes softening. Vulnerability and brokenness flashed in his eyes, such a pool of grief, Max hated himself for causing it.

Finally, Lando broke from his hold and walked further into his apartment, “I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”

Max followed him, “Yes, you do and you’re going to tell me what happened between you and my sister.”

Lando aggressively turned around, his attitude changing quickly, his fiery gaze creating a tense air, “CAN YOU FUCKING STOP?”

Max shot back, “NO! I CAN’T LET THIS HAPPEN! IT’S NOT FAIR TO ANYONE TO KEEP YOU FROM EACH OTHER IF THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE SEPARATED!”

Lando’s teary voice, stricken with yearning for someone he thought he wouldn’t have to yearn for anymore, yelled back, “NOTHING HAPPENED! NOTHING HAPPENED BETWEEN US! NOTHING-”

His words got cut off when a small sob racked through his body. The lie and deflection of their relationship hit him hard. He didn’t want to deny what happened with her because what happened with her was so important, so close to his heart. Denying her and the love they shared was like affirming their end, he couldn’t deal with that.

Max watched his best friend break down in front of him, the sounds of miserable tears filling the room as he rushed over and caught him. He had never seen him like this, agony making him cling to his best friend in search of something to ground him.

Max couldn’t stomach the way his best friend was crying, much less for the fact that he was crying for his sister and whatever happened between them.

He itched to know and knew Y/n would be able to tell him.

—

He used his key to get in. The apartment was dark and quiet, and Max almost thought no one was there, but the fresh tissues on the counter and romantic movie playing softly in the background told him his sister was somewhere within the few walls.

He wandered around, silently looking for any clues of her relationship with Lando. He mingled over to her desk, hoping to find some picture of them together and gain physical evidence of the things that happened behind closed doors. He was ready to give up in that spot when he didn’t see anything on the surface, but when he caught a glimpse of a small drawer hiding under it, he crouched down. His hands slowly opened it, creaking and groaning under the force.

What he found, clearly something that was trying to be hidden, shocked him. What he found was a large handful of printed out pictures, all of them consisting of Y/n and Lando. He took them out carefully, their edges worn as if someone had continuously worked with them. The pictures got progressively worse to see, in terms of knowing that he was the one to stop the love they had for each other.

The first photo was of the two of them laying on her couch, the piece of furniture sitting two feet away from him. Lando’s lips were pressed against her cheek, one hand holding the other side of her face to him. Whatever was happening in the moment must have been amusing seeing as his sister was in the midst of hard laughter. Her mouth open, smile exuding through, she seemed comfortable in his presence, the kind of comfortable Max had wanted to forget existed between them.

The second photo was in Lando’s kitchen, this time only of the boy himself. Y/n’s reflection was in the window, again laughing at his cooking skills, as Lando stared beyond the camera. His gaze was trained on Y/n, a lovesick glint in his eyes as he held a spatula and a bowl. He was smiling so hard at her, Max wanted to claw his eyes out and forget he ever saw these photographs. They were a living example of what he had destroyed.

He continued to look through them, however, as his curiosity got the best of him. The last one, the eleventh and final one, was the worst to gaze upon.

This picture was taken by Lando, it being of Y/n sitting on her couch. She stared down at a ring in a box that she held firmly in her hand, teary eyes staring at Lando behind the camera. She was smiling with her mouth slightly opened, as if she was in awe over the gift.

It was the worst to see because he remembered the day he clocked her wearing it, asking her where she had gotten it.

THREE MONTHS PRIOR

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Max asked, his eyes trained on the sparkly band on his sister’s middle finger, left hand.

She tilted her head in confusion, following his gaze before realizing what he was referring to and trying to suppress a smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a gift.” She said vaguely, trying to be nonchalant.

Max shook his head, laughing softly, “No fucking way, is this person in love with you?”

She mirrored his laughter, yet it had a nervous undertone, “What are you talking about?”

Max grasped his sister’s hand, inspecting the ring, “Anyone who gets you something this expensive is in love with you. I mean, Y/n, this is, borderline, promise ring.”

She had joked with him, “What if it really was?”

He stared at her, trying to decipher whether or not to take it seriously. In the end, he hadn’t, “Then, I’d say I wanted to meet whoever gave you this. Clearly they want to marry you.”

She laughed it off, waving her hand around, “No need. There’s no one to meet.”

PRESENT DAY

It had been right fucking in front of him. He had prodded and joked that there was someone in her life, and there had been. It had been his best friend and he was too selfish to recognize it. Who was he to dictate their lives? Who was he to stop them from being happy? Who the fuck was he to stop Lando from making good on the promise he had made to his sister?

With the picture in his hands, Max stalked to her bedroom in the back of her apartment. He flung the door open, clearly waking her up from the nap she had been partaking in, scaring her to death.

She yelped out, “WHAT THE FUCK!”

He shook his head, pacing around the perimeter of her bed, “What is this?”

He waved the picture in her face, dropping it on her lap, and staring at her as he walked around.

Her face dropped and then she was staring at him with vengeance, “You went through my stuff?”

She had said it coolly, quietly, and that scared Max gravely. His sister was furious.

He scoffed, “Yeah, I did! Because I saw Lando earlier this week and he fucking cried in my arms because I confronted him about what happened between you, and he couldn’t fucking handle it. I still don’t know what happened! What the fuck happened?!”

She stood up, “AND YOU THINK THAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO LOOK THROUGH THESE THINGS? THESE PICTURES WERE FOR US ONLY AND YOU FUCKING RUINED THAT, MAX! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

Max shook his head and put his hands up in front of him, “I’m not mad, Y/n. I support you two if it makes you happy. I’m just fucking shocked as shit because I asked you about that ring and you lied to my face.”

She shrugged, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU WANT ME TO DO? TELL YOU THAT I HAD BEEN FUCKING YOUR BEST FRIEND?”

Suddenly, he realized that if he hadn’t told her about his knowledge of the photos, she wouldn’t be as rageful as she was standing before him. Max was hit with a wave of emotions, wondering if he had just ruined the trust he had built with his sister over the course of their entire lives.

“Y/n,” He started, but she interrupted him.

“Get the fuck out.” She whispered, clutching the picture in her hands.

“What?”

“Get out of my house, Max.” She said again, this time stalking toward him and beginning to push him away.

He grabbed onto her arms, “Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that finding those pictures would make you this upset.”

When they reached the living room and she saw the drawer open with all the pictures strewn about, she leaped toward them, frantically gathering them up carefully.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” She screamed, ears turning red.

Max stayed silent, “THESE ARE MY PHOTOS, MAX! THESE MEAN SOMETHING TO ME! IT WAS NEVER YOUR PLACE TO FIND THESE!”

He walked cautiously over to her, letting his hands take hold of hers as they tried to gather all the pictures. She was crying, the tears becoming harder as she looked upon all their times together. Her brother gently coaxed them out of her hands and pulled her into him, cradling her head to his chest and trying to stop the tears that were wetting his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” He whispered repeatedly in her ear.

Over time, as he continued to say those two words to her, they both knew the meaning of it was changing.

At first, he was sorry for finding the photos and infringing on her privacy, but, then, he was sorry for making her think she couldn’t love openly.

—

Sitting down on her couch, he passed her tea to her and silently urged her to start talking.

She took a deep breath, then began, “Lando and I dated for a year. I’ll just break that to you now.”

Max’s mouth fell open, he had not been expecting for it to be that long, “Okay… continue. I’ll be okay.”

She nodded, smiling lightly, “We had loved each other for many years before that, but we only got together after a night when he picked me up drunk and I told him about the feelings I had for him. He came to my house the morning after and demanded to know if what I had said was true or just my drunk self being reckless, but everything I had said to him that night was, so he kissed me and we made things official. At first, we said we would keep things hidden until we were certain we saw a future, but that plan was shit because, from the beginning, we saw forever with each other. So, all we were left to do was aimlessly wander around until we stumbled across a time to tell you. However, we could never agree. He wanted to stay secret, afraid of everything that would happen if we dated publicly, but I was more of a ‘fuck it’ person. I wanted to be with him and when he rejected the notion I continuously brought up about us telling everyone, I felt fully rejected and that caused an ungodly amount of fights. Toward the end, all we did was fight. I think that’s what did us in. There was never a time when we weren’t yelling at each other and, for the life of us, we just could not see eye to eye. The thing that broke everything was when he told me to come to him when I believed he loved me and I realized I would never become comfortable with that idea. I would never fully trust him if he continued to treat me like a mistress, so I broke up with him.”

Max nodded, “And that’s when you two stopped talking and I found out.”

She agreed, “Yeah, I’m surprised how quickly you put it together.”

He chuckled, “No, it wasn’t me. It was Pietra. She basically yelled at me and told me that I was ruining both of your happiness by refusing to come to terms with it.”

The look that Y/n got in her eye told Max that he didn’t know the full story, “What?”

His little sister giggled, “I knew she knew!”

He tilted his head in confusion, “What?”

She shook her head, “One time, Pietra came over to my apartment unannounced and she had chosen a time when Lando and I were… uh…” Y/n wiggled her eyebrows at her brother and his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Oh, fuck no! Move on!” He yelled, waving his hands around.

She smiled, “Okay, okay, well, anyway, she used her key and when we heard the door open, her voice yelling out my name, Lando hid in the closet. When she came into my room and saw me with no clothes on under my comforter, she just looked at me weirdly. Her conversation with me after that consisted of her walking around my room and looking behind curtains and all that. I’m surprised she forgot to look in the closet because, if she had, she would’ve found out. But, anyway, after that, she just always dropped little comments about me seeing someone and, one time, she asked me if I had feelings for Lando. I, of course, refused, but it was something in the look that she gave me that told me she knew and she wouldn’t tell.”

He scoffed, “Damn you, P.”

The siblings laughed together, but once it died down, Max gave her a serious look.

“Y/n, you need to talk to him.”

Her shoulders sank, “I don’t know if either of us could handle that right now.”

He shook his head, “Not to get closure, but to get back together.”

Her head pulled back, “What? Max, he probably hates me. He definitely does not want to get back together with me after I ripped out his heart, threw it on the floor, and stomped on it.”

Max looked at her weirdly, “No way. You didn’t see the way he broke down in his apartment. You weren’t there and you haven’t seen the way he’s been after everything ended. He loves you and he needs you. He always will.”

She mulled it over in her head, inviting her brother to continue, “Why’d you break up with him?”

“Because I was hurt and I doubted how we would ever continue healthily when we didn’t agree on this one thing. Plus I didn’t believe he loved me the way I did him.”

Max shot up from the couch, picked up the photo of Lando looking at her while he cooked and shoved it in her face, “Y/n, that is the look of a man so gone for you, he’s never coming back.”

Her fingers traced over his face on the paper, smiling softly at the boy she missed, before looking up at her brother, “How do you know for sure? What if I give myself to him and it doesn’t work out?”

Max leaned forward, took her hands in his, and squeezed them tightly, “I don’t, but I can guarantee you that for as long as he lives, Lando will never move on from you. You give him another chance and he will never stop loving you. He’ll never stop loving you whether or not you’re there to reciprocate it or not.”

She tearfully stared up at him, “Yeah?”

He nodded, wiping her cheeks, “Yeah.”

—

Lando groaned, wanting to tear his face off with the knocking at his door. He just wanted people to leave him alone. Why didn’t anyone get that?

He forcefully pulled it open, shaking his head at whoever was daring to startle his mourning.

However, when his eyes met hers, their color shimmering with regretful tears, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Even though the reason for her presence wasn’t clear and his ability to reach out and kiss her wasn’t there anymore, he was still at peace to see her.

“Hi,” She whispered, stepping through the threshold hesitantly.

He stood, completely shocked, and she chuckled at his state before closing the door for him. Her hands landed on his waist as she coaxed them over to his couch, sitting the two of them down and taking his hands in hers.

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, the two former lovers staring at each other and letting a loud silence take over. A loud silence between two people who still loved each other dearly.

When enough time passed, she exhaled and began with the speech she had been rehearsing for days prior, “Breaking up with you was the worst decision I ever made. Yet, it was something that had to happen. Without us parting ways, Max would’ve never found out and we would never be here, having the ability to be together publicly. I’m sorry for giving up on us, I wake up every day and wish I could take it back. But, I came here today because Max and I had a conversation yesterday where he made it clear that I had to come see you. Come fight for you. I love you and I want to be with you, always have, always will. I’m giving you everything I have and I’m hoping, fucking praying, that you’ll embrace your fears like I am and let us be together.”

Lando looked down at her, absorbing her words for a few moments. He stayed silent, staring at her before smiling. He let go of her hands to grab her face, bringing it to his. He kissed her like it was their first kiss all over again, signaling that he wanted to start over with her like she did with him. His lips nipped and sucked at her skin, only pulling away to whisper his love for her.

When they ran out of breath, he met her eyes and softly said, “Of course, I’ll embrace my fears for you. I was so fucking stupid not to before. You’re the only person that I’ve been able to get lost in. I love you like I’ve loved no one before and I’d be so idiotic to let you go again. That day, when you walked out, I should’ve followed you, I should’ve shown you, proven to you, how much I love you. Hearing you say that you would never believe I love you was like a million stabbings all at once and I should’ve used that emotion, that pain, to communicate how much you mean to me. I’m sorry for that and I’m so sorry for shutting you out the way I did before. Of course, I want people to know you’re mine. That’s always been it for me and the fact that I had it, and still didn’t take it, is lost on me. However, this all goes to say that I won’t let that happen again. I will love you and I will love you and I will love you until you’re sick of me.”

She laughed through her tears, pecking his lips shortly, “I’ll never get sick of you.”

He continued to grin at her, hands still holding her face to his, “Better not. If you did, I’d just force you to stay with me.”

She giggled, blushing at his words, before he melted fully into her. Hitting her nose with his, emotion pooled in his eyes, “Please never leave me again.”

She kissed his cheek, then his neck before coming to stare at him, hugging him as tightly as possible, “Never again. Ever. I promise.”

A tear slipped down his eye and she wiped it away. At the gentleness, he nuzzled his face into her neck and breathed out, feeling the weight of the world being lifted off his shoulders.

Another silence followed, yet, this time, it was a silence of two people who would never let the other go again.

Comforting and loving.

End.

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