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admirationandromantics · 2 months ago

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Stress-reliever

Okay, so another request! I really like this one, and I had a lot of fun writing it too. Sorry it took so long, but I try to work at an acceptable pace. Anyways, this story is about reader having an assignment and being hella stressed because she can't understand anything. Josh, her friend, comes over because she doesn't answer any of his texts or calls and gets worried about how hard she's pushing herself. And he knows the best way for her to relax...

Word count: 3k (Unedited)

I let out a silent scream, slamming my fist into the book. Goodness sake, why was this so difficult? I look at my word count, and it’s nowhere near finished. I don’t even have a good point I’m writing about. Everything I’ve written before this has been great, or at least good. This was the exception. I don’t understand the lectures, I don’t understand the book, I don’t understand anything. No shit my essay would be trash.

My phone start plinging, but I ignore it. I have to get this. Maybe I’ll read the chapter one more time. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve already read it, but I don’t have anything better going for me. I tried youtube videos, getting someone to explain it to me, reading, writing, everything. This was stressing me out, and the deadline is in one week. I don’t have good sources, or backups. I can’t change the theme.

The phone rings again, but this time, I put it on silent. I have to get this, I need to understand it. Maybe I need a breather? But I don’t have time. I stand up and walk to the window. I can at least get some fresh air inside, I deserve that. I click the lock, pulling the window open. The fresh winter breeze flows into my room, shuffling my papers and pulling my hair. The outside arena has been filled with water, making a large skating rink. A bunch of people are skating, some with families, some while holding hands. They’re probably all finished with tests, exams and deadlines. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the ice cold air. A shiver runs through me, and I take it as a sign to sit down again. This essay isn’t going to write itself. I correct my papers and open the book in the right chapter again. Just keep reading, just keep reading. I’ll get there eventually.

***

A loud knock is heard on my door, pulling me out of my trance. I’ve written how much? 4 sentences? At this pace, I’ll have to pull all-nighters all week. Someone knocks on the door again, and I check the time. It’s late, not too late, but who would be here at this time? I get up from the desk, walking to the door and unlocking it. Outside in the hall, Josh is standing with his stupidly cute smile and a plastic bag.

“Josh” I sigh weakly, hugging him while putting all my weight on him. I’m so tired, so stressed and sick of my studies.

“You look horrible” he whispers back, hands going around me to stop me from falling on the floor.

“Thank you, I appreciate it”

“Have you been outside today?”

I look up at him, giving a guilty smile. He sees right through me and rolls his eyes. I let go, opening the door wider to let him in.

“Brough you take-out, figured you were too obsessed with whatever you’re doing that you haven’t eaten”

“You’re an angel”

“I know” he smiles, putting the bag down and pulling off his jacket. He goes to sit in my desk chair, glancing over all my notes.

“Hard stuff” he grabs a paper, reading quickly over the highlighted lines. I turn to the food, taking out the different boxes. Chinese food, how sweet of him.

“I’ve never been this stressed in my entire life” I complain, my neck sore and eyes tired. I grab a roll, eating it quickly. I’m apparently very hungry too.

“You know, I actually wrote about how stress affects-”

“Stop!”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear about how it’ll kill me, you psychology majors are insane with your theories”

“It’s not a theory”

“Do you really think knowing this will help me or stress me out more”

“Yeah, you’re right”

I take another roll, sitting down on the bed and eating it.

“You know, you could do something more stress-relieving…”

He’s smiling, but I don’t know why. I don’t have time to do anything else right now. But, if it worked, I’d probably understand and write much faster. The offer is tempting.

“Like what?”

“Well, according to your stress-patterns you-”

“Don’t psycho-analyze me” I threaten, pointing a finger at him, my hand now empty again. He puts his hands up, smirking. That stupid smirk.

“Fine, okay. Let’s think of normal things then… taking a hot bath”

“I showered this morning”

“It’s not to get clean, it’s to relax”

“No, next”

He shrugs, shaking his head in disbelief. I know I’m difficult, but he’s still here, so I haven’t cracked him yet.

“Go for a walk?”

I laugh at him. No way I’m going somewhere, and when inspiration strikes I’m not there to take advantage of it. It might hit when I’m 20 minutes from home, and when I get back, it’ll be dead.

“How about I put it this way Josh… I’m NOT leaving my room”

He thinks hard, trying to come up with something. I subtle darkness coats his eyes as he looks up at me again, and I smile, intrigued by what he’s come up with.

“I can only think of one more thing”

“And that is?”

He opens his mouth, but stops himself and snickers. I’m left in the dark.

“Nah, you probably wouldn’t want to”

I look around confused, throwing my hands out. I’m literally open to anything as long as I can relax a bit.

“Oh, please tell me, I’m desperate” I whine jokingly, making him laugh.

“Oh really? How desperate?”

“Incredibly desperate, I’ll do anything”

“Anything?” he asks, and I can already sense that I’ll regret saying it. He leans forward, loving that he knows about this secret thing which I don’t. God, he’s a prick.

“Yes, now tell me” I urge, my curiosity overwhelming.

“Fine, okay” he leans back on the chair, looking me up and down. “I mean, I could help you relax a bit”

“With what?”

“Jesus Christ”

“Will you just tell me Josh?”

He stands up, making his way over and cornering me with his arms. Oh. Ooooh… I heat up just from the thought, getting wetter by the second as I think about all the erotic possibilities of this encounter.

That’s what he meant. I almost feel stupid for not getting it at first. But I have to remember that we’re friends, and this is a very intimate act. Would I really want to jeopardise our friendship for an essay? I already feel my body betraying me, heart racing quicker than my thoughts.

My body gets the better of me, and I lean into him, capturing his lips and throwing my arms around him. He doesn’t waste time, returning the favour and leaning over me, pushing me back on the bed. Hand goes to my thigh, lifting my leg up. He places himself in between them, staying over me with the help of his other hand. A tight squeeze over my knee makes me gasp, and he uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth. He explores all of me, touching in all the right places, occasionally rubbing where he senses I feel weaker. I pour all my tension into him, another form of it building up in my stomach, begging to be satisfied.

“Josh…”

He doesn’t stop, mouth instead moving to my neck as he kisses and sucks.

“Tell me if you want to stop” he whispers against my skin. I don’t want to stop. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and using my stress as an excuse? I don’t know what will happen after this, but I do know that I want to fuck him. For as long as possible.

He hits my spot under my jaw, making a loud involuntary moan escape my lips. I feel him smirk against my skin before biting down. My hand immediately flies to my mouth. It would not be good for me if the other people in the nearby dorms heard me.

“I want to hear you” He’s quick to take hold of my hand, trapping it over my head, pressing my whole body down on the mattress. God he’s hot, I’ve never seen this side of him. I always thought he was ‘just talk no action’, but apparently I was wrong.

“Fuck” I whimper, feeling messy and needy for him. He knew what he was doing, and it was working a little too well.

“All my calls, all my texts, everything left unanswered…”

“I was studying” I breathe out, voice high on ecstasy. His knee goes between my legs, and I lean against him, letting myself grind down on his leg.

“Was it not just a trick to get me here? Don’t think for one second I haven’t seen those glances you give me when you think I’m not watching”

“Josh…”

“Don’t worry, when I’m finished with you, you wouldn’t have to be so secretive anymore”

He grabs the hem of my sweater, making me sit up a bit to drag it off. I’ve been home alone all day, so a bra was not necessary, leaving me half naked, the cold winter air from the window making my nipples hard.

“Oh lord…”

“Not gonna even the playing field?” I tease, tugging at his shirt. He laughs and unbuttons it, undressing quickly and throwing the garment on the floor. He does the same with his belt, dragging it off his jeans and leaving it on the floor. I feel a tug on the bottom of my pants, and he drags them off with ease, leaving me only in my panties.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he comments, laying himself on top of me again and capturing my lips on his. I feel around his upper body, gracing each curve and muscle. My hands wander to his back, pulling him closer, making him lay more of his weight on me. The kisses get wetter and sloppier as we keep going, my pulse going faster than ever before. I pull away a little, needing to take a breath. He uses the opportunity to work on my chest, kissing down my collar and groping my chest. His mouth keeps sucking, leaving dark marks all over my upper body.

“Josh, please” I whimper, feeling the need overcome me. This is too much, I need him down there, fucking me senseless, just as I’ve always wished for.

“I love hearing my name coming out of those pretty lips of yours”

He moves lower, kissing the inside of my thighs and stroking my folds over the soaked fabric.

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time haven’t you?”

I take a couple of deep breaths before answering, my body dysfunctional from all the waiting and different types of simulations.

“Y-yes I have”

“And you finally got what you wanted”

“Please”

He raises his head, looking up at me. That stupid smirk is still plastered on his face as he’s come face to face with the reactions he gets out of me.

“Say it again” There’s no use fighting him, my body begging to be touched.

“Please”

“Again”

“Josh, please”

“As you wish”

His head goes down again, biting and licking my thigh as his fingers slowly drags my underwear off. It falls off my feet, and his tongue takes a long lick over my folds. My immediate reaction is to close my legs, but his hands stop me, holding both of them in their place. He takes a chance, one of his hands moving to my heat, stroking over the wet area.

“You’re already so ready for me”

His tongue finds its way to my clit, licking soft circles as one of his fingers moves inside me, curling upwards. My legs jolt again, but he doesn’t mind, instead keeps pumping his finger and getting me off with his tongue. I feel my edge come closer, and I try to hold it, not wanting to come so incredibly fast.

“I know you’re holding back dear”

I try to come with a reply, but it leaves my lips as incoherent erotic melodies, going in tact with his rhythm. He takes out his hand, relieving some of the pressure which is begging to be let out. I try to steady my breathing, but am interrupted as he puts another finger in, filling me even more up. His tongue applies more pressure than before, and I can’t control myself as I come all over him, spilling my juices down his fingers and lips.

I take deep breaths, ecstasy washing over while throwing my head back. Fuck he’s good. I feel my legs twitch from all the action, pent up stress and energy leaving my body as the high lowers.

I hear something hitting the floor, and look up to find him standing in front of me. Naked. Big. Holy shit, how am I supposed to take that.

“You look scared” he smiles, going on top of me once again, giving me sweet kisses. I taste myself on him, but the passionate nature of it is almost… romantic.

“Just, surprised” I manage to breathe out.

“Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet” he teases, giving me another passionate kiss. His dick graces over my folds, coating itself in my last high. His hand goes down to adjust himself, but before he inserts himself, he looks down at my flushed face, waiting for something.

“You want this?”

“Yes I fucking want this, Josh please”

He doesn’t need to hear anything else, slowly inserting himself in me. I throw my head back, feeling him fill me up, widening my walls. He groans as he keeps going, letting out a deep breath as he’s all in. He waits a couple of seconds, still holding himself up over me.

“Fuck, you feel so good” he exclaims, cheeks red and breath heavy.

“Please keep going” I urge him, and he starts moving. Slowly going out and slamming deep into me again. It takes a couple of pushes for him to get his rhythm back. The room fills with both our moans, and I pull him down, killing some of them on our lips.

He takes hold of my thigh, pulling my whole leg up, letting himself deeper inside. My nails scratch his back as he keeps going, both of our orgasms building up. I hold on to him, chest against chest, his pelvis rubbing against me as he slams himself in and out.

“Let me ride you” I whisper, and he stops for a bit, taken aback by my request.

“You sure?”

“Get on your back” I breathe out, trying to sound stern. My tone fails me, and I just sound desperate instead, but I don’t mind. I want him, I need him. He obliges, laying down on his back. I move on top of him, and he looks up at me, mouth agape and eyes blank. He’s so turned on, so hard and so desperate. Probably as needy as me. I steady myself, lowering my body onto him, letting him inside. I bit my lip to stop my noises, feeling him go deeper than before.

I watch his face, cheeks still pink and skin shiny. His mouth keeps opening, letting out the most vulnerable sound I’ve ever heard from him.

“And I thought you looked good on top” I start, feeling a smirk find its way to my lips. “Turns out you’re even better under me”

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come” he whimpers, grabbing hold of my thigh, bouncing me up and down on him.

“That’s the goal” I lean down, kissing his collar and neck while still bouncing my ass on him.

“You’re so incredibly hot”

His grip tightens, probably leaving red marks which’ll last for days. I feel my core building up, getting awfully hot and tight.

“Josh, I’m going t-”

“Do it, do it”

I can’t hold myself, coming all over his cock, tightening around him. I give a cry, body sweaty and hot as I try to keep the rhythm going. The pain starts getting to me, the cause of overstimulation and exhaustion. He notices, and uses his hips and arms to turn us around.

I slam back into the maddress, my breath being knocked out of me. I don’t get time to regain it as Josh ups his pace, slamming into me harder and faster. I grip the sheets, trying to stay grounded as I feel my whole body rocking back and forth. He leans forward, intertwining my hand in his, while still keeping up the pace. I grip his hand hard, tension building up again as he uses the other to rub my clit.

“I love you like this, all fucked out” he whispers, making me tighter. I wince as I come another time, pain and pleasure shooting through me. I’ve lost feeling in my legs, letting them hang weakly around his waist. He grunts and moans, burying himself in me as he reaches his orgasm. I feel him twitch inside me, sloppily pulling out as he collapses beside me. His hand goes to my chin, turning my head towards him before leaning forward for a kiss. I let him, sinking into the small action.

“Still stressed?”

“More exhausted, but no, I’m not stressed” I explain, slowly regaining control of my pulse.

“Need a power-nap?” I nod, and he walks to the bathroom, coming back with a warm wet cloth and cleaning me up. We both drag ourselves to the top of the bed, getting under the covers and relaxing. I lean into him, feeling his body sink down.

I think about the essay, everything I could’ve done in the time we fucked. The theme is hard, and the texts are difficult, but… Shit!

“Omg” I exclaim, sitting up.

“What, is something wrong?” he asks, looking up at me with concern. I stand up, walk to the desk and grab my computer before laying down with him on the bed again.

“I suddenly understood this one passage” I exclaim, not feeling that tired anymore. I actually understood something! Finally!

I open the computer, and start typing on the related paragraph. This was gonna be good, I could finally get the parallel I wanted, and compare it to the subtext.

“Well, I’ll be laying right here if you need me again” he makes himself comfortable, kissing my chin and letting his fingers rub soft circles on my arm.

#until dawn #joshua washington #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington x reader smut #josh washington smut #josh washington imagines #josh washington until dawn #until dawn josh #joshua washington x reader smut #joshua washington smut #joshua washington x reader #until dawn smut #until dawn fanfiction #until dawn fanfics #until dawn imagines #until dawn oneshots #friends to lovers #smut

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

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Aegon Targaryen*Daughter

Pairing: aegon x mum!reader

Word count: 1904

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, aegon having a bad reaction, absent father, mentions of alcholism and drug abuse, mentions of birth/morning sickness, aegon coming back

Part one here or read alone

Masterlist Here

“Pregnant? You can’t be- you’re not- how?” you sat back as Aegon shot up from your bed, instantly pacing the bedroom as he tried to come to terms with it. you couldn’t blame him you suppose. After all you’d spent a whole week trying to convince yourself it was a lie and your roommate had to literally slap some sense into you. “But we were so safe?”

“Condoms aren’t perfect I guess,”

“But you were on the pill,”

“Its only like 90 something percent effective, look I don’t know,” you let out an exasperated sigh as Aegon looked at you with eyes bulging out his skull.

He walked over and picked up the test, “Maybe you did it wrong,”

“I didn’t do it wrong Aegon I did 20 of them!” you snapped, instantly regretting it as he sunk down on the bed next to you.

You went to speak but he finally broke the silence but broke your heart at the same time, “You’re getting rid of it right?” ‘it’. the words hit like a brick colliding with glass.

“I hadn’t decided yet,” you admitted in a quite voice but loud enough for Aegon to rub his hands over his eyes before dropping his head between his knees, “But we’ll figure it out Aegon. We’ll make it work,” you told him, trying to rub his back but he snapped back up.

“Maybe you can,” he said, his voice cracking, “Not me. I can’t be a dad. Look at me!” he said, standing up and pointing to himself like he was an exhibition, “I am a fucking mess I can’t raise a kid! Ill break it!” he said as he started to pace again.

“They’re not it!” you yelled back standing up too.

“Don’t yell at me!” he screamed as he turned around, his eyes instantly softening when he saw you stepping back, “I’m so- “

“Get out,” you managed to grit out through clenched teeth, “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Leave. Now,”

Aegon paused, his hand half reached out to try comfort you before he sighed and turned around. He headed to the door with his head hung low, “If you need me to go to the doctors- “he started to mumble as he reached for the door handle.

“I won’t need you. ever. You’ve made that clear enough,” you forced the words out your mouth even though they burned you to even saw them. You saw his heart shatter, but you didn’t care as you laid a hand on your stomach.

Telling your parents was defiantly not something you looked forward to. You told your best friend Heleana first who offered to fly out the next weekend to see you, but you insisted you were fine. She however insisted on being there to tell your parents to make sure you were okay. the whole time you refused to tell her who the father was.

“Who’s the dad?” your mother asked after a very long and teary-eyed conversation.

Your eyes wandered to Heleana. She reached for your hand and tried to say something, but you cut her off, “I’m so sorry Hel,” you whispered making her tilt her head. You cleared your throat and spoke up so they could all hear, “Its Aegon,”

Heleana’s grip on your hand loosened as her eyes fell to the floor. For a moment you thought you’d lost her too btu then you felt her hand squeeze yours again, “What did he say?” she asked but she could tell from the look on your face, “I will fucking kill him,”

It was the first time you’d heard her swear but not the last time it was brought up when discussing Aegon. You ended up telling her the full story later that night and she was ready to fly out and kill him. the only issue was no one knew where he was. Alicent was used to that by now though you could see it begin to weigh on her know he’d been gone for 3 months.

You however were now 4 months pregnant, postponing school, and unable to hide it any longer. “Alicent?” you asked as you awkwardly shuffled into the room with Aemond and Heleana behind you as backup. Aemond had sussed it out pretty quickly though was equally shocked by the father when you told him.

Alicent smiled at you from where she sat on the sofa reading her novel, “Is everything alright dear?”

“I need to tell you something,”

Alicent was silent as she processed it all before suddenly taking your hands with a teary smile but a happy one still, “Thank you for telling me sweetheart. Its going to be okay,” And for a while it was. Well, if you didn’t mind the morning sickness and ballooning to the size of a small house. That and still no one had heard from Aegon.

Heleana had helped pick out the decorations for the nursery in your new flat. Yes, a new flat paid for by Alicent. Well technically it was one of her rentals she had inherited when her father died but she decided to let you live there free of charge as well as telling you she’d help out when you decided to go back to school.

Aemond helped you get a job in the restaurant he’d been at for years and even though working as a waitress could be draining at the best of times you knew it would be worth it. especially now you were holding your daughter in your arms.

She was adorable with tuffs of blonde, white hair covering her perfect head. She was such a giggly baby, always gurgling away with a smile. Heleana had to go back to university, but Alicent made sure to adjust her schedule to have the baby when you were at work. Everything was finally feeling good again.

“Hush little baby doesn’t say a word,” you whisper sang to your baby as your nighttime routine with her, but she was already out from a long day at the park with her gran. As you laid her in her crib you heard the doorbell ring.

You froze, watching your daughter who initially stirred but luckily didn’t wake. You quickly padded to the front door, shutting the room to the nursery as you did. when you looked through the peep hole you felt your stomach tighten but still you reached for the door handle.

“Aegon?” you asked as he began to turn and walk away, probably assuming you weren’t in.

He spans back around, “Hey. I- “he began to stutter, “My brother said I could find you here,” you mentally cursed Aemond but stayed standing in the doorway, “I needed to talk to you,”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,”

You saw the hurt in his eyes, but you didn’t care. well at least you tried not to. “I should go,” he muttered, turning to leave once more.

You sighed. Even if you hated him for what he said he was still your daughter’s father, “Wait!” you called out, wincing at the noise you made. Aegon turned back, “Come in,” you sighed.

He walked in in silence, sitting down on the couch you pointed him to as you sat in your armchair. You turned to the table beside you and flicked the baby monitor on. “How is she?” Aegon broke the silence with his head hanging low.

“She’s okay,” you paused but decided to go on, “She’s got your hair but my eyes and all she ever does is laugh,”

“Just like you then?” Aegon smiled softly, looking up as for the first time in a year you shared a smile with him, “I’m sorry. For what I said, for even thinking it,” he began, the smile fading, “I fucked up. Nothing I can say will fix it and I don’t think ill ever make it up to you,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “But I won’t be my father. I don’t want to only see her at Christmas and sign some cheque to pretend I care. I want to be there for her, and you. if you’ll let me,”

He said it so sincerely, but you couldn’t help the pit in your stomach, “What if you leave again?” you whispered. “I didn’t even know where you went,”

“I won’t,” he said firmly, “I know I fucked up. That night I left, and I ended up back at square one. Maybe less than one. All I remember is me leaving then waking up in a field surrounded by broken bottles. I couldn’t face you after. Not after how hard you worked to help me,”

“I kept it up for a bit, the drinking. Bounced around some houses sleeping on couches. Drank myself to sleep every night,” he continued his ramble, all while his eyes stared at the empty ground, “Then one night I was drunk again at a party and some guy offered me something. I almost took it. but something just snapped,”

“I checked myself into rehab the next day. Aemond’s been helping me, but he refused to tell me anything about you or well her. I couldn’t blame him. I was there for about four months. Got sober. Got better. Got another therapist. Ended up getting some jobs here and there. I work down at the Carstark Warehouses. Pays not much but enough to get by,”

Aegon paused again and finally looked up, “I really am sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me or feel bad, but I am sorry,” he said as he pulled an envelope out his pocket, “Take it,”

“I don’t need your money,”

Aegon sighed as he leaned forward and held it out to you. hesitantly you took it. inside was letters though. You pulled them out. At least thirteen of them, you weren’t too sure as your eyes began to well up. Some were to you, but most was to your daughter. “I brought this too,” he said making you look up.

He was holding a white plush bunny, your favourite animal, with a bow on its neck. “I got it when I saw my mums post on Facebook with the baby. I thought she should have it,” he said as he reached out to give it to you.

You shook your head this time, “No. you should give it to her. not me,” you said as you stood up, “You want to see her?”

Aegon shot out his seat, rubbing the sweat of his palms on his jeans, “Yeah course,”

You nodded as you led him to her nursery, “She’s asleep so you need to be quiet. I don’t want to wake her,” Aegon nodded as you creeped the door open.

Together you both walked in and for a moment before you turned around you thought he might run away again. However, when you turned and saw his awestricken face staring at your daughter you somehow knew he wouldn’t. he tenderly walked over to the crib, a tear trickling down his cheek as he held the crib by its rails. “I can’t believe I missed her being here,” he whispered so softly you barely heard him.

“You’re here now,” you whispered back, rubbing a hand on one of his shoulders while leaning on the others. “Just please don’t leave again,”

“I won’t. I’m never going anywhere again,”

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @meg-ro

HOTD taglist @jmii722 @hypocritic-trash-baby @starkleila @jacesvelaryons @sashadevil766

Part One Tags: @heavenly1927 @aemonds-holy-milk

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #modern Aegon Targaryen #modern aegon #modern aegon Targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon imagine #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #modern hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

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The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Part 1/3 of my soft Tim miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. You're injured and he shows his care without thinking.

Warnings: fluff, brief insecurity, description of injuries and stitches. r has hair long enough to pull back but no specific qualities!

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: This is just a little something I wrote last night. A scene of Tim being soft toward you, his favorite rookie. :)

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim Bradford can be gruff, pushy, and, at times, downright mean. But he never pushes his trainees more than they can handle, and his relentless tests and trials are for their benefit. By leading them to their potential or letting them fall short of it, he shows himself and them that they do (or in many cases, don’t) have what it takes. So, when people ask you if Tim Bradford is hard to work with or a tough TO, the answer is usually yes.

But then there are moments like this.

As you sit in the emergency room with a bloody wad of paper towels wrapped around your hand and your hair falling in your face, you watch Tim. He’s been on the phone since you arrived, pacing as he explains what happened to Sergeant Grey. You hadn’t seen Tim worried about you like this before today, but the moment he noticed the concerning amount of blood dripping from your hand as you stood your ground against an armed suspect, he showed you a side of himself that you’d never seen before.

“Let’s get that hand looked at. I’m Dr. Grace Sawyer.”

You nod at Grace as you stand and brace your injured hand against the other. She smiles kindly as you introduce yourself and leads you into a nearby room.

“Take a seat and I’ll unwrap Officer Bradford’s patch job,” she instructs.

After you sit and extend your hand toward her, she carefully unwraps the blood-soaked towels and deposits it into a biohazard container behind her. The gash across your palm and over the side of your wrist begins bleeding again without the pressure of Tim’s impromptu wrap job. He yelled at you while he did it, but you know why.

“How’d this happen?” Grace asks.

“I, uh… I was supposed to stay out of the way until our backup got there, but a guy ran up behind Officer Bradford, my TO, with a machete. I jumped in before I thought about it," you answer.

“Clearly,” Tim grumbles as he walks in. “How is she?” he asks Grace.

“I’m going to put in a few stitches. I’ll wrap it so she can get back to work, though. Is this your dominant hand?”

“No,” you answer softly, looking at Tim.

Tim nods once before he walks to stand behind you. You feel his fingers in your hair before you can ask what he’s doing. Less than an hour ago, someone else had their fingers on your scalp, but you weren’t as accepting of the touch.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works your ponytail holder loose.

“Fixing your hair. This look isn’t exactly department-approved and you can’t do it with stitches in your palm,” Tim answers.

You turn your attention toward Grace and watch her work instead of focusing on how softly Tim is touching you or how close his chest is to your back. His warmth and care for you threaten to distract you from why you're here and what you're supposed to do when you leave.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when his finger hooks on a tangle.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” Tim asks.

“I am. Thanks to you.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move that hand,” Grace says.

She winks as she stands, and you wonder if she knows how much trouble you’d get in for making a move on your TO. Not that you haven’t thought about it. Although, it always ends in rejection, even in your daydreams. The downside of knowing Tim so well, you think.

“I don’t even know how he got my hand and my hair so fast,” you admit. “It was like I felt the slice and then he was yanking me backward.”

“You stood your ground well,” Tim responds. “Not that I’m praising you disobeying me and jumping in, but what you did was well done. Unnecessary, but properly executed.”

“Unnecessary?” you repeat. “I’ll remember that next time a guy is about to use a machete against your back.”

“You know what I mean,” Tim adds quietly.

He drops his hands to your shoulders briefly, and when he pulls away, you shiver at the loss of warmth.

“It’s not perfect, or exactly how you had it,” he begins as he rounds the exam table.

“It’s great. Thank you,” you interject. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Trust me, I’ll try. Twelve stitches across my palm was never the goal.”

Tim rolls his eyes and sits in a nearby chair to wait for Grace to finish treating your cut. You watch him, and when you notice his shoulders drop, you push him back for once.

“You know, I’ve been looking for a new hairstylist for an event next month,” you say.

“No,” Tim answers.

He crosses his arms tightly against his chest and tilts his head away from you. That means it’s working.

“But you did so well! I mean, I haven’t felt this good because of a hairstyle since… I can’t remember.”

“Then learn to do it yourself.”

“But you’re my partner,” you argue with a pout.

“When I said I’d be with you through the good, the bad, and the ugly, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“But I’ll be ugly without beautiful hairstyles like this!”

Tim straightens quickly and says, “You’re kidding. Right?”

You shrug and look at the stitches lining your hand.

“You’re beautiful,” he adds. “No hair-do can change that or make it untrue.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

“I’m back,” Grace announces. “Let me wrap this and you’ll be good to go.”

“About time,” Tim sighs. “Way to waste our afternoon, boot.”

You don’t hear a word he says. The only thing worth remembering for the foreseeable future is Tim Bradford saying, ‘You’re beautiful. No hair-do can change that or make it untrue.’ When you climb back into the shop a few minutes later, you realize that life will be hard with one of your hands out of commission.

“How am I supposed to do anything without bothering this?” you ask.

“Carefully. You just…” Tim sighs and knocks his knuckles against the steering wheel for a moment. Then he says, “Just call me if you need help.”

It takes you a second to register what he said and believe you heard him correctly, and your questioning sound communicates that.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he adds.

“Is this the ugly you meant?” you tease.

“No,” Tim answers. “This is the good.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford fluff #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#fluentmoviequoter tgtbatu

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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Oooh the grid kids series is pure joy! I think it's really cool idea, especially because the drivers spend so much time around one another. Can i request one where maybe back in the day, rbr!seb and y/n were the grid kids of like mark and michael and jenson and back to present times, seb's grid kids are weirded out to see jenson and mark treat seb and y/n as their grid kids please. If that makes sense

Grid Kids: Gentlemen, a Short View Back to the Past

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: once upon a time, the grid parents were grid kids themselves

Series Masterlist

When We Were Young

“Oi lovebirds! Stop canoodling in the garage, will ya?” Mark Webber chuckles, teasingly nudging Sebastian as you blush, having been caught stealing a quick kiss with your boyfriend in the middle of the chaotic paddock.

Michael, ever the protective figure, chimes in, “Leave them alone, Mark. It’s sweet. Remember when we were young and in love?” He winks at Sebastian, who grins, clearly relishing in having backup.

Jenson, leaning against a tire stack, chuckles, “Speak for yourself. Some of us still have it.” He sends you a playful wink and you laugh.

Sebastian wraps an arm around you, “Honestly, with the three of you as mentors, I’m surprised I’ve learned anything about racing.”

You smirk, “Maybe they're preparing you for the important race — the race of life?”

Mark snorts, “Deep, Y/N. Very deep.”

Michael smiles, a nostalgic look in his eyes, “You know, Y/N, you remind me a lot of my wife back in the day. Always grounding us racers, making sure our heads don’t get too big.”

Jenson nods in agreement, “True that. You have a way of making sure Seb here doesn’t drift into the clouds.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, “Oh come on! You guys are just trying to get on Y/N’s good side because she’s the only one who brings proper coffee to the track.”

You giggle, “Guilty as charged. Can’t have my grid parents falling asleep at the wheel now, can I?”

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Sebastian and you stand with Jenson and Mark, sheltering under an awning as rain pours down, delaying the race. Michael ambles over, shaking off his umbrella.

Sebastian grins, “Typical Spa weather, huh?”

Jenson chuckles, “Isn’t it just? Every year I hope for sun by some miracle and every year...” He gestures at the rain dramatically.

You sigh, “I packed for a summer trip. Look at this!” You motion to your very damp sundress.

Mark smirks, “Rookie mistake. Always pack a wetsuit for Spa.”

Michael nods sagely, “And flippers.”

Oh Simple Thing

The smell of grilled meat wafts through the air as Jenson mans the BBQ at his home. You and Sebastian arrive, bringing along a homemade salad and plenty of sides.

“Ah, the dynamic duo!” Mark greets, pulling you into a friendly hug.

Michael points to the salad, “Trust Y/N to ensure we get our greens. Good on you!”

You wink, “Can’t have you all living on steaks and grilled chicken alone.”

As the evening progresses, stories from their early racing days are exchanged, often leading to fits of laughter. At one point, Mark shares an embarrassing story about Sebastian’s rookie mistake during a test session.

Sebastian groans, burying his face in his hands, “Do we have to bring that up again?”

You pat his back sympathetically, “It’s alright, Seb. Everyone has their moments.”

Jenson, taking a sip of his drink, adds, “That’s true. Just remember, no matter how many times they tease you, you’ve got Y/N in your corner. And that’s worth more than anything.”

Prank or Be Pranked

“Seb! Did you move my helmet?” Jenson calls out, rummaging through his locker as the five of you prepare to go karting, his face a picture of confusion.

Sebastian, feigning innocence, replies, “Why would I do that?”

You, smirking, lean in and whisper to Mark, “Five bucks says he put it on the highest shelf.”

Mark grins, “You’re on.”

As Jenson continues his search, he eventually finds his helmet perched high up, just out of reach. Michael, catching on to the prank, laughs, “Looks like our young prodigy here has learned a few tricks.”

Sebastian shrugs, “Consider it ... training. For reflexes and stuff.”

Jenson, using the handle of a dusty broom to retrieve his helmet, retorts, “Wait till you find out what I’ve done with your boots.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen in horror, “You didn’t!”

“This is going to be a long season.” You lean back against the brick wall as the overgrown children in front of you continue to bicker, fighting a smile.

Thanks for the Memories

Jenson, lounging comfortably in the hospitality area, raises an eyebrow as he watches you try to subtly wipe some oil off Sebastian's face. “You sure you’ve got him all cleaned up for the camera?”

You laugh, looking at a sheepish Sebastian who had been poking around his car earlier. “It’s like looking after a kid sometimes. He’s always getting into something.”

Michael chuckles from across the room, “Ah, young love. Sebastian, she’s got your number. But honestly, Y/N, good on you. We older ones have been trying to teach him some discipline.”

Mark smirks. “To be fair, Michael, I recall a certain someone ending up in a pool with his clothes on in Monaco just last year.”

Michael grins mischievously, “That was different. And anyway, Seb, Y/N, don’t get any ideas.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Trust me, if he ends up in the water, I won’t be the one pushing him.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “But you’d jump in to save me, right?”

You pretend to ponder, “Hmm, depends on how cold the water is.”

Jenson laughs, “Sebastian, you’ve found your match. But seriously, both of you, cherish these moments. The grid, the races, it’s all fleeting. But the relationships, the memories, they last.”

Michael nods in agreement, “Jenson’s right. One day you’ll be the veterans, guiding the young ones. Remember these days, learn from them.”

Mark clinks his water bottle to yours, “To memories and the journey ahead.”

Flintstones, Meet the Flintstones

Michael leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “You know, when I started in F1 we didn’t have all this fancy tech and simulations. We relied on instinct.”

Jenson, faking shock, retorts, “Wait, you mean they didn’t have cars back then?”

Sebastian chuckles, glancing at you, “I bet he drove a dinosaur to the track.”

You laugh, “A very fast dinosaur, mind you.”

Mark, trying to keep a straight face, adds, “Michael, be honest. Was your racing suit made of ... loincloth?"

Michael plays along, “Yes and our helmets were carved out of stone.”

You chime in, “I heard they used saber-toothed tigers as pit crews.”

Jenson nods, “Oh, absolutely. And the pit stops? Ten minutes. Had to give the tigers a break.”

Michael rolls his eyes, laughing, “Alright, alright, mock the legend if you must. But remember, young ones, we paved the way.”

Mark grins, “And we’re grateful, old man. But don’t forget, it’s their turn now.”

Sebastian, ever competitive, challenges, “Race you to the track?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “You sure about that?”

You laugh, “Careful, Seb. He might just bring out his dinosaur.”

Passing the Torch

Michael stands, his presence commanding the room’s attention even without a word spoken. Holding a helmet delicately in his hands, he clears his throat. “In every racer’s life, there comes a time when the tracks call to you a little less, the roar becomes a distant echo, and you realize there’s a world waiting for you outside the paddock.”

He glances over at Sebastian, then to you, emotion shimmering in his eyes. “But before I step into that world, I wanted to leave behind something, a token of gratitude and hope.”

Sebastian’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity evident. “Michael, you’ve already given so much to all of us …”

Michael interrupts with a soft chuckle, “Seb, always impatient! Let me finish.”

He then looks at you, his gaze warm and fatherly, “Y/N, you may not race on the track, but you’ve raced in all our hearts, guiding, supporting, laughing, and cheering louder than everyone else.”

“Sebastian, Y/N,” Michael continues, his voice imbued with emotion, “This helmet, from my last race, isn’t just a piece of equipment. It’s a symbol. A legacy.”

Gently placing the helmet on the table, he pushes it towards the two of you. “It’s about the weight of responsibility, the dreams it carries, the hopes it’s seen, and the love it’s felt.”

The room is silent, the magnitude of the gesture palpable.

Sebastian, clearly moved, speaks up, voice choked with emotion, “Michael, this ... this is ... I’m not sure if we can ever fill the space you leave behind.”

Michael smiles, placing a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, then moving to hug you tightly. “That’s the thing about spaces. They evolve. They change. You two won’t fill my space. You’ll create your own.”

Pulling away, he raises his glass, “To new beginnings, to timeless legacies, and to family. Always to family.”

Back to the Future

As Max saunters into the room, he stops short, eyebrows raised in surprise. Jenson is teasing Sebastian, ruffling his hair like he’s a teenager, while Mark playfully nudges Y/N’s arm, offering her a drink.

Max blinks a few times, trying to process the scene. “Is ... is Jenson giving Seb a noogie?”

George peers over from his conversation with Lando, both their eyes widening. “It looks like it ... and Y/N’s being drawn into some sort of mock arm wrestling with Mark. What alternate reality did we walk into?”

Charles, mouth agape, chuckles, “It’s like watching a nature documentary: Here we observe the older generation asserting their playful dominance over the younger one.”

Lando giggles, nudging George. “Mate, should we jump in? Even the odds a bit?”

Before George can answer, Mick, who’s been observing silently, leans in. “Guys, it’s kind of sweet. You remember the stories they've told about the old days? This is just ... history repeating itself.”

Max, still trying to wrap his head around the scene, shakes his head with a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when Seb gets his hair messed up and doesn’t immediately fix it.”

Lance calls out, “Maybe we should start taking notes. This might be us in a few years.”

Grid Kids and Grand-Grid Kids

Charles saunters over to Mark and Jenson, holding up a race boot he’d just had signed by both of them. “Thanks for this, mates. It will be a special addition to my collection.”

Mark pats Charles on the back, “Anything for our grand-grid kid.”

Charles stops mid-stride, turning to look at Mark with a puzzled expression. “Your what now?”

Jenson chuckles, handing Lando a signed cap. “Didn’t Seb and Y/N mention? Since they’re your grid parents and they’re our grid kids ... well, that makes you our grand-grid kids.”

Lando bursts into laughter, while George, overhearing the exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so we’re like ... the second generation of grid offspring? This is getting complicated.”

Mick leans in with a smirk, “Hold on. So if I’m following this logic properly, that would mean double the birthday gifts, right?”

Jenson grins, “Well, perhaps but it also means double the expectations on the track.”

Lance playfully rolls his eyes, “Great, double the pressure. Just what we needed.”

Max joins the banter, “Are there grand-grid kid initiation rites we should know about? Because I’ve seen old photos of Seb and Y/N with you guys and let’s just say that fashion has come a long way.”

Mark feigns shock, “You’re dissing our style from back in the day? Careful, young one.”

Charles, cocking an eyebrow, shoots back at Max, “Especially considering the only thing in your closet is Red Bull merch.”

The group bursts into laughter, Max chuckling and nodding in acknowledgment. “Touche, Leclerc. Touche.”

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hookhausenschips · 3 months ago

Text

Stages of Love

Navigation

Summary: Y/N, a famous R&B singer on tour, gets a surprise visit from her boyfriend, Lando Norris, who joins her backstage for an intimate, unforgettable night. As she pours her heart into her songs on stage, Lando watches from the sidelines, captivated by the love and magic between them.

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: sappy, romance, surprises, cheesy moments

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

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A/N: I took some inspo after watching Naomi Jon’s tour video (I got emotional leave me be😂)

As the tour rolled into another city, Y/N was in her element. She was halfway through her tour, filling arenas night after night, but the distance from her boyfriend, Lando, was starting to weigh on her. They’d been texting and calling when they could, but it wasn’t the same as having him there. Her team noticed her quieter moments, the wistful glances at her phone when she thought no one was looking.

But what Y/N didn’t know was that her team had orchestrated a surprise. Lando had flown across the world to be there for her tonight. It had taken weeks of planning, a carefully coordinated travel schedule, and a fair bit of deception, but it was finally happening.

The day began with soundcheck, the empty arena echoing with Y/N’s voice as she tested her mic. She stood center stage, strumming her guitar and singing softly. The band joined her, filling the empty seats with music. As she hit the opening lines of one of her slower songs, the quiet strum of her guitar wrapped around her gentle voice: “Hold me close, don’t let me fall / In a world so big, you’re my all…” She closed her eyes, singing the chorus with a raw vulnerability. The band fell silent as her voice lingered in the air. “Every time you leave, I lose it all…”

Lando, hidden below the stage with her team, felt his heart tighten. It was as if she was singing directly to him, every lyric resonating with the longing he felt whenever they were apart. Y/N’s camera guy, Eric, who had known her for years, watched the effect she had on him and nudged Lando.

“She’s something else, huh?” Eric grinned, filming Lando’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Lando said softly, his gaze fixed on her. “I’ve never met anyone like her.” He smiled, almost bashful. “It’s like… she’s got this magic that makes everything else disappear.”

One of Y/N’s dancers, Zara, leaned in, a teasing glint in her eye. “You’re totally whipped, aren’t you?”

Lando laughed, his cheeks flushing. “Guilty. Every time I see her on stage, it’s like I’m falling all over again.”

As Y/N moved to another song, a high-energy anthem, she began dancing alongside her backup dancers, their movements perfectly in sync. She was laughing, her joy infectious as she moved across the stage, her voice powerful and confident. “I’m stronger now, I’m my own kind of free / No one else completes me, just me, just me!” She threw her hands up on the beat, and her team clapped and cheered as she hit the final high note, flashing them a grin.

A few hours later, Y/N was backstage, getting ready for the VIP session. She had no idea Lando was just a room away. Her makeup artist, Alex, was applying the finishing touches to Y/N’s base, chatting with her as they worked.

“You look incredible, as always,” Alex said with a grin, dusting her cheeks with a soft glow.

Y/N sighed, glancing at her phone. “Thanks, Alex. I just wish Lando could be here. It feels like forever since I’ve seen him.”

Alex shared a knowing look with Bree, Y/N’s hairstylist, who was perfecting her wig. “You never know,” Bree said with a smile, trying to keep her tone casual.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “If only! He’s probably busy getting ready for his next race or doing simulator work. But I know he’d be here if he could.”

When the lights dimmed, Y/N took her place on a stool in the center of the small stage set up for the VIP acoustic session. Her fans, buzzing with excitement, filled the front rows, eagerly waiting for the intimate set. She adjusted her guitar and smiled out at them.

“This is my favorite part of the night,” she began, strumming a gentle chord. “It’s just us, no big production, just the music.”

She started playing the opening chords of a fan favorite, her voice soft and warm: “When the lights go down and I’m all alone / It’s your voice, I hear, like I’m already home…” The crowd sang along, their voices blending with hers, and her heart felt full. As the song ended, she leaned into the mic, looking out at her fans with a grateful smile.

“You guys are amazing. Thank you for making tonight so special!” she said, earning a round of cheers.

Then came the Q&A portion. A fan near the front called out, “Y/N, what do you miss most about home?”

Y/N smiled, her gaze softening. “Well… I miss my family, of course. And my friends. And… my boyfriend, Lando. He’s usually off racing, but he’s always so supportive, even from afar.”

Just as she finished speaking, she noticed a ripple of excitement in the crowd, people turning and pointing. Confused, she glanced to the side of the stage—and froze. Lando was walking out, his grin wide and his eyes shining with pure happiness.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Lando! Are you really here?”

He laughed, his face lighting up as he reached her. “Surprise, babe,” he said, opening his arms.

She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. The fans cheered louder, snapping photos and videos, capturing the sweet reunion.

Lando held her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I couldn’t stay away,” he said softly. “I had to see you.”

Still in shock, Y/N pulled back slightly, laughing as she looked up at him. “You’ve been planning this? I had no idea!”

He chuckled. “I had to keep it under wraps. Your team’s pretty good at secrets.”

She turned to her fans, her smile brighter than ever. “Everyone, this is my incredible boyfriend, Lando,” she said, as if they didn’t already know. The fans erupted, cheering and chanting his name.

After the VIP session and that unforgettable surprise, Y/N and Lando headed back to her green room, still buzzing from the excitement. The green room was alive with energy—her team bustling around, preparing for the main show, organizing outfits, makeup, and everything in between. But for now, Y/N was focused entirely on Lando, who had his arm around her as they settled into the cozy couch in the corner.

“So,” she said, looking up at him with a mischievous grin, “want a sneak peek of tonight’s outfits?”

Lando’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely. Show me everything.”

She laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him over to the rack of costumes her stylist, Bree, had meticulously organized for the show. Y/N picked up a glittering silver jumpsuit with fringe that sparkled under the lights. “This one’s for the opening number,” she explained, her fingers tracing the fabric. “It’s dramatic but comfortable enough for dancing.”

Lando raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “That’s insane. I can already picture you in it on stage.” He smiled, his fingers brushing hers as she held it up. “And here I thought race suits were cool.”

She chuckled, moving to the next outfit, a stunning red ensemble with intricate detailing that flowed down the sides (just the gloves and the hair). “This is for the ballad section. Something a little more elegant. You know, a moment to slow down.”

Lando nodded, clearly taken by her enthusiasm and passion. “They’re all so… you. I mean, they’re powerful but still have that touch of elegance.” He looked at her with an affectionate smile. “Like you.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him for a quick hug. “Thanks, Lan. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re here to see all of this.”

One of her makeup artists, Alex, came over, holding a makeup brush and smiling. “Alright, lovebirds, time to start getting you ready, Y/N!”

Lando stayed close by, sitting on the couch as Y/N went through her pre-show routine. Alex began working on her makeup while Bree helped adjust her hair, styling it just right. Lando watched her with admiration, taking in every detail—her calm focus, her warm interactions with her team, her genuine laughter as they joked around.

Between touch-ups, Y/N kept glancing over at him, catching his eye and sharing a smile. She finally laughed, leaning toward him. “You’re going to make me blush if you keep staring like that.”

Lando shrugged, grinning. “Can’t help it. It’s amazing seeing you in your world like this. You’re in total control, and everyone’s so inspired by you.”

She beamed, her fingers brushing his for a moment before turning to Bree, who handed her the first costume. “Alright, costume change time. No peeking!” she teased, heading behind a curtain set up in the corner of the green room.

When she emerged, dressed in the dazzling silver jumpsuit, Lando’s eyes widened. “Wow,” he whispered, completely taken aback. “You look… unstoppable.”

She laughed, doing a playful twirl. “It’s all thanks to this incredible team.” She glanced around, gesturing to her crew. “They’re the real magic behind this.”

Next came her vocal warm-ups. She took a deep breath, launching into a series of scales and exercises that resonated through the room, her voice filling the space with strength and control. Lando watched, his admiration clear as he took in how serious she was about every part of her craft.

Just as she wrapped up, Maya, her tour manager, called everyone together for the pre-show team pep talk. “Alright, everyone!” Maya said, her voice commanding attention. “Tonight’s a big show, and you’ve all been incredible every step of the way. Let’s give them everything we’ve got.”

Then Maya looked over at Lando with a smile. “And since we have a special guest with us tonight, I think it’s only fitting that Lando join us in our pre-show huddle.”

The team all cheered, pulling Lando in as they formed a tight circle, each person’s hand stacked one on top of the other. Y/N beamed, looking around at her crew and at Lando beside her. She placed her hand on top of the pile, then reached for his, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze before laying it over hers.

Maya counted down. “Alright, on three… One, two, three—”

“VENOMOUS!” they all shouted in unison, the energy palpable as they broke the huddle, each person giving Y/N a quick hug or a pat on the back.

Lando, still holding her hand, leaned down and whispered, “You’re going to crush it out there. I’ll be cheering you on the whole time.”

She gave him one last, lingering hug, resting her head against his chest for a moment as she took a deep breath, grounding herself. “Thank you,” she murmured, pulling back to look at him. “Having you here… it’s like a dream.”

He smiled, his voice soft but full of conviction. “Then go make this your best show yet. I’ll be right there watching.”

With one last look, she turned and headed toward the stage, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and calm, knowing that the person she loved was right there, supporting her every step of the way.

As Y/N took the stage, Lando stood just off to the side, peeking out from behind the curtain. She was electric, moving effortlessly through her songs, her voice carrying through the arena. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her gaze holding his for a beat before she turned back to the crowd. Halfway through her set, she paused, catching her breath as she gazed out at the sea of fans.

“This next song is dedicated to someone very special,” she said, her eyes finding Lando’s. “He’s my biggest supporter, even from a thousand miles away. Lando, this one’s for you.”

She began to sing, her voice filled with emotion. “When I’m lost, you’re my light / When I’m weak, you’re my fight / In your arms, I find my home…” Her voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability raw and beautiful. The crowd swayed, lights flickering as they held up their phones, the arena transformed into a sea of stars.

Lando felt his throat tighten, overwhelmed with pride and love as he watched her pour herself into every note. She was incredible, and she was his.

After the song, she slipped backstage for a quick outfit change, meeting Lando with a breathless smile. He caught her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re killing it out there.”

She grinned, cheeks flushed. “It’s because you’re here. Now wish me luck for round two!”

As she headed back out, the crowd’s chant filled the air: “Y/N! Y/N!” She beamed, waving to them before diving into the second half of her set. She was glowing, her smile never leaving her face as she moved through each song, her voice ringing with joy and strength.

As the final chords of her last song faded, Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of the entire night settling over her. The crowd was on their feet, cheering and chanting her name. She looked out at the sea of faces, a mix of strangers and friends who had supported her from the beginning, and then to Lando, who stood just offstage with the proudest smile. She mouthed a simple “I love you” to him, feeling the tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Lando mouthed it back, his expression as full of emotion as hers. They were worlds apart in their careers yet so deeply connected, and tonight, it felt like they were in perfect sync.

After taking her final bow, Y/N slipped offstage, still buzzing with adrenaline and joy. Lando was waiting just outside the wings, his arms open, and she practically leaped into them, burying her face in his shoulder as he hugged her tightly.

“You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice full of pride. “Absolutely unstoppable.”

She pulled back, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a smile that refused to fade. “Thank you for being here,” she murmured, her fingers tracing his jawline. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I think I do,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I saw how you lit up out there. It’s like you were made for this, Y/N.”

Just then, her tour manager, Maya, approached with a smile, holding up a camera. “Alright, lovebirds, the night’s not over yet. We’ve got a bit more to film for the tour documentary. How about we capture this moment?”

Lando laughed, shaking his head but agreeing nonetheless. Y/N nodded, glancing up at him. “Are you okay with being on camera?”

“For you?” He smirked, squeezing her hand. “Anything.”

They both turned to face the camera, Y/N still tucked into his side as they answered a few questions. She was glowing, her happiness evident with every word.

Eric, behind the camera, asked, “Y/N, how does it feel to have him here?”

She looked up at Lando, her smile widening. “It feels… like everything is right. Like all the pieces are here, and I can finally just… breathe. Having him here tonight? It made this show unforgettable.”

Eric then turned the camera on Lando. “And you, Lando? What’s it like being with Y/N on tour?”

Lando chuckled, glancing down at her. “It’s amazing. I mean, I know how talented she is, but seeing her do this live… She’s a whole force of nature. It’s inspiring.” He paused, his eyes softening. “And it just makes me that much more proud to be hers.”

The camera captured the way they looked at each other, a quiet understanding passing between them. As they wrapped up filming, Maya gave them a nod, signaling they were done for the night. The two of them slipped back to her dressing room, the crowd’s fading cheers still echoing in the background.

Once inside, the world seemed to slow down. Y/N kicked off her shoes, sinking onto the couch beside Lando. She leaned against him, closing her eyes for a moment, soaking in the peace after the whirlwind of the night.

“Did you like the dedication?” she asked, her voice a quiet murmur.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing her temple. “I loved it. Every second of it. You make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world, you know that?”

She looked up, her gaze soft and vulnerable. “I feel the same way, Lando. You… you ground me in all this chaos.”

They stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing as she rested her head on his shoulder. She was exhausted, but with Lando beside her, she felt like she could take on anything. For a while, they forgot about the cameras, the crowd, and the next show. It was just the two of them, in their little bubble of love and calm.

As the night wound down, Lando and Y/N slipped out of the venue hand in hand, making their way toward her tour bus parked under the glow of streetlights. But as they walked, they spotted a small group of fans who’d waited by the barricades, hoping for a last glimpse of her. She paused, giving Lando’s hand a squeeze.

“Want to go say hi?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with that same warm smile he’d fallen in love with.

He nodded, grinning. “Absolutely. Lead the way, superstar.”

When the fans noticed her coming over, their faces lit up with excitement, some gasping in disbelief as she walked right up to them. “Oh my god, Y/N, you were amazing tonight!” one girl exclaimed, her hands shaking as she held up her phone.

Y/N smiled, reaching out to hug her. “Thank you so much for waiting. I’m so glad you could come tonight. It means everything to me.”

One fan shyly looked at Lando, eyes wide. “Um, is it okay if we get a picture with you two together?”

Lando chuckled, pulling Y/N close and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Of course! Just don’t tell her fans that she’s cooler than me.”

Y/N laughed, nudging him playfully. “We both know they already know that.”

As they posed for photos, Y/N took time to chat with each fan, asking them about their favorite parts of the show, taking selfies, and signing whatever they handed her. Lando admired how patient and genuine she was, watching as she made each fan feel seen and special. Her kindness and warmth radiated, making her more than just a singer to them. She was a friend, a confidante, someone who truly cared.

Before they left, one fan whispered to Y/N, “You two are, like, perfect together. You can just tell he loves you.”

Y/N glanced at Lando, her cheeks flushing as he caught her gaze, his eyes soft. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think so too.”

They finally said their goodbyes, waving to the fans as they continued toward the tour bus. Once they were out of earshot, Y/N sighed, smiling up at him. “Thank you for stopping with me. I love seeing them happy.”

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “I think it just made me fall for you even more.”

When they reached her tour bus, they climbed aboard, finding a quiet corner at the back where they could just be themselves, free from the spotlight. Y/N curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as they talked late into the night. Every laugh, every shared look, and every quiet moment together felt like a gift.

As the bus rolled on toward the next city, they fell asleep side by side, knowing this night was one they’d remember forever—a perfect memory captured not just on film, but in their hearts.

———————

Behind The Scenes:

Y/N’s voice echoed through the arena as she ran through the first song, a hauntingly beautiful ballad she’d written in the early days of her career. It was raw, personal, and every note seemed to vibrate with emotion. “I wanna run away with you,” she sang, her voice filling the vast, empty seats around her. “Just take me to places I've never known…”

As she moved through the song, she closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the lyrics, unaware that Lando was watching her every move. He was mesmerized, unable to keep his eyes off her. She had this way of pouring herself into every note, and today he could feel it more than ever. Her camera guy, Eric, caught the look on Lando’s face and couldn’t resist nudging him.

“So, Lando,” Eric began, smirking. “What’s it like watching her do her thing up close like this?”

Lando laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s surreal, honestly. I mean, she’s always this amazing, even when we’re just hanging out. But seeing her like this…” He trailed off, his gaze fixed on Y/N as she began to dance, moving with her backup dancers through the intricate steps she’d spent weeks perfecting. “I’m in awe of her. Every time.”

One of the dancers, Zara, overheard him and grinned. “Yeah, we can tell. You look like you’re about to melt every time she so much as glances over here.”

“Can you blame me?” he replied, eyes never leaving Y/N.

Eric chuckled, the camera capturing Lando’s look of pure adoration. “How do you handle being apart when you both have such crazy schedules?”

“It’s hard,” Lando admitted, his gaze softening. “But we make it work. She’s worth it—more than worth it. I’d fly across the world just to see her smile like this.”

Up on stage, Y/N was running through another song—one of her high-energy anthems that had become a fan favorite. As she hit the chorus, she threw her hands in the air, singing, “I said R.I.P. to the fake and the famous/ Kiss goodbye to the shade and the shameless!” Her energy was contagious, and her team couldn’t help but clap and cheer along as she hit the final high note, her voice filling every inch of the space.

Lando felt his chest swell with pride as he watched her. She was so much more than the girl he fell in love with; she was this powerhouse who commanded the stage, who made thousands of people feel understood. Eric leaned in, catching his reaction on film. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“More than amazing,” Lando said quietly, a soft smile on his face. “She’s… everything.”

As Y/N finished her set, she called down, “How’s it sounding, team?”

Maya, her tour manager, shot her a thumbs-up. “Perfect as always, Y/N!”

Satisfied, Y/N left the stage, unaware of the extra pair of eyes watching her every move. When soundcheck wrapped, her team kept the secret well-guarded, knowing that the surprise was only hours away.

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119 , @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year ago

Text

Reign down on me - Part 6

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Hi, helooooo! Sorry for the long update times, my life has been super hectic. So this chapter didn't go where I thought it would end up going, so there's some things I think I said I was gonna explore that will be in the next chapter instead. However I hope you enjoy this one 💕 thanks for waiting

-🐺-

There was a quiet hum pulsing through the room, the buzz of everyone around you tending to their own conversations and hoppy drinks which allowed you to relax and attempt to tune out the busy environment. After another successful mission, the 141 wanted to unwind- which apparently meant going to the pub for drinks, darts and, according to them, mediocre grub. Although after dining fine on MRE’s for the majority of your life, you had to disagree. That sausage and mash was the some of the best you’d tried.

Ghost had forced you to change into some civvies before you’d left, which meant doing another embarrassing repeat of the shopping experience hed’d taken you out on. You still weren’t convinced you were able to put together a good outfit, fussing and trying a few different combinations of things, but once Ghost had looked you up and down and given you a nod of approval you’d relaxed.

When you’d all gotten to the pub and you’d seen that less people stared at you while in your new attire, you were soon thankful for the change. A hybrid in military gear drew attention, it probably made people think the area was being worked, but a casually dressed and collared hybrid was apparently nothing to get too concerned about. Huh.

Once you’d pressed yourself to the back of the booth, you barely worried about being out in public anymore. The world was the confines of the table, the edge of it stretching no further than your now trusted teammates. That became all the more true after you were offered a drink and then another and another. Once the buzz had started, the last of your lingering anxieties around being out floated to the back of your mind and disappeared like smoke. None of the other patrons were even a blip in the back of your fuzzy little head.

“So Pup, what’d you reckon?” Gaz asked, spinning his pint glass around in his hand. “‘Nother drink?”

How many were you actually allowed, you wondered, you’d already had a few. When you turned to Ghost to try and gauge your answer, he was too busy talking in hushed tones to Soap, so instead you employed your backup. Price smiled wryly the second you clocked eyes with him across the table.

“Like most things, Pup, this ain’t a test,” Price chuckled. “You know your own tolerance don’t you?”

“You think I’ve done a lot of drinking before?” You asked back, innocently dodging his question.

You twiddled with your own glass, rolling it between your palms and watching the dregs inside twirl. Bubbles of the beer still continued to fizzle across your palette even as you watched it dance below you. The hypnotic show only served to further make you aware of the hazy sheen across your eyes, and you were sure that if you stood up you’d probably feel like you were walking on foamy clouds.

You’d have to be careful. Wouldn’t do to overindulge, you tried to remind yourself. Though that voice was quiet compared to the euphoric beast in you that cried out for more, that wanted to keep going until you forgot about every sordid thought in your head as easily as you forgot about how uncomfortable crowds made you.

“Well you sunk those pretty quickly,” Gaz said, motioning his glass toward you.

“Not to mention Branhaven has one of the highest rates of contraband seizure for a UK base,” Price noted, finishing the last of his drink. “Reckon you’ve probably indulged a time or two, no?”

You couldn’t conceal your smile. Though your ears soon pinned to your head, realising that the implication that you were engaging in illegal behaviour was floated out wide in the open. It was true, hybrids would often do chores or other kinds of favours for human soldiers in exchange for goods, which often meant working for booze or cigarettes or stronger stuff on occasion. You’d been more than happy to help with boot polishing and patch sewing on an occasion or two. Some nights it helped with the pain, on others it just kept you from going mad.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone your secrets,” Gaz winked. “I’ll go get us another round.”

You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he made his way over to the busy bar, casually floating around a group of men before seizing an opportunity to break through to the oderous wood top. Once at the counter, he folded his arms over it and leaned his body out ever so slightly, his hips angling back toward the table.

It was hard to tell if it was entirely the drink, but as you watched him, you found yourself really looking what you saw. Gaz was a well built man, lean and proportioned well, but it was his face that your eyes were stuck on. He looked good that night, his smiles came easy, the full ones that showed his fang-like teeth. They glinted in the soft light when he turned around to say something to the man next to him, shining like pearls. His shoulders were relaxed, back untensed, his body shook with laughter when the other man made a joke.

Truth be told you couldn’t be sure how long you stared after him, but it was safe to say your roving eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“See somethin’ you like over there?” Price asked, jerking his head back to the Sergeant.

You blinked slowly. Your head felt like it was rushing with syrup, getting flustered but too tipsy to respond with anything smart.

“What?”

“You’re lookin’ awfully hard is all,” he shrugged.

The room felt like it heated a few degrees. In an effort to not meet that crinkly eyed grin of your captain, your gaze floated along the arm hed slung over the back of Gaz's chair. However, that only gave you more problems. You immediately imagined him slinging that arm over you, holding you close and sharing his heady body heat. Smelling his scent, bathing him in yours.

It’s happening again!

Your ears perked up like lightning rods when you realised that some baser part of your nature was taking over yet another time that week. The feral little creature that usually kicked around somewhere in your hindbrain was clawing its way to the forefront. Now you were practically panting after half your team. You needed to get a hold of yourself, you reasoned, surely you weren’t going to give into whatever random desires you were getting for closeness. Stupid Pack bond - or whatever it was that Ghost had chalked it up to.

“I, uh- there’s pool over there,” you shrugged lamely, gesturing to the tables just off to Gaz’s right.

Someone managed to pot a ball not long after you’d said it. Your ears tilted toward the sound, then swivelled again when you heard Gaz’s familiar huffs and puffs of effort. He was now stepping toward you with a trayful of glasses, clenching his teeth whenever he came close to spilling or bumping into someone, walking ever slower with the wobbling glasses as he realised how precariously they were balanced. His muscles bulged a little with the effort.

Price caught your stupid staring again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. His eyes just narrowed knowingly at you, not with accusation but with concealed humour. You could tell by the subtle pull of his lip.

“Gazzy. You up for a game?” Price barked.

“Depends, what are we playing?” Gaz asked, raising a brow as he snatched his pint.

He took a sip of it, coating his upper lip in a little sheen of foam. He licked it off in short order.

“The wolf wants to play pool,” Price said.

Price once again interrupted your brain fog from taking over. Knowing full well that he would be wearing that same stupid ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look on his face, you looked up at Gaz and reached out for your own drink. That one had to be your last before - god forbid - you were left drooling over anyone else.

“Oh yeah? You a secret pool master?” Gaz asked.

“Oh…no,” you clarified, awkwardly swallowing a gulp of beer. “I’ve watched it being played enough times though. I always wanted to try it.”

You’d never actually been that bothered about it, you preferred to blend in rather than get caught in competition, especially when it came to games with humans. However as far as any of them were concerned, it was your life’s dream. Anything, as long as it stopped anyone from thinking that you were obsessed with your teammate.

“You wanna pair up with me then? Reckon you should be on the winning team for your first game.”

“Pfft, winning team? Sure that’s with you, son?” Price scoffed.

“Beat you last time didn’t I, old man?”

“Fuck off.”

Price took a dramatic gulp of his beer then loudly pushed off from the booth, marching toward the pool table as if it were a mission objective. You laughed noiselessly to yourself, but soon had to stop yourself from choking on your own drink when the little demon inside you commented on how nice his big broad shoulders were, perfect for holding you close.

How were you going to survive the night?

You looked back over at Ghost to try and regain some sense of composure only to see that Soap was shuffling along the bench to leave and your handler was about to follow him. Giving him a slight head tilt in question, you wondered where they were going. To which, Ghost answered by pulling you in close, wrapping his arm around you and leaving you practically choking on his forearm for a second, before he released you with a messy pat on the head.

“We’re goin’ for a smoke,” he chuckled, watching your annoyed glare with amusement while you fixed your hair. “Be good while I’m gone.”

The smile lines broke out under his eyes, and for a ditzy second all you could do was stare. All thoughts of telling him off left your mind, instead you were stuck looking above his face mask, drinking in the glittering pools of his irises and the blush tinged tops of his cheeks. Your tail wagged traitorously when he continued to stare back.

“What?” he huffed, smile still not leaving his eyes.

Your entire body flamed at being caught this time.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, shrinking back into the chair.

You hoped that the chair would swallow you.

“Silly thing.”

Ghost gave you a scratch behind the ears then finally slid off to join Soap. However, you weren’t left alone to your own self-deprecating thoughts. Gaz was watching you, his lips curving in amusement. He started to twirl his glass again, spinning it around on it’s axis.

“So how do you like being with the 141 so far then?”

The question caught you off guard, but you had to admit it was a welcome distraction. You unpinned your ears from your shameful, burning head and relaxed once more.

“I like it,” you said simply.

“Oh yeah? How’s staying with Ghost?”

“Oh uh, Ghost is nice. It’s been cool having my own room,” you said, smiling as you thought about your big comfy bed. “He’s been really good to me.”

Gaz snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself.

“What?” You glared. “What’s so funny?”

“Nice isn’t the first word I’d use to describe Ghost, but….” He shrugged.

“Ghost is nice though,” you frowned, body growing tense at the hint of any accusations of the contrary.

“Sure, when he’s not telling awful jokes or burning holes into your head with that stare he has,” Gaz laughed, outstretching his hands and wiggling his fingers. “I’m from Manchester and I’m gonna steal your soul with me spooky eyes.”

You giggled at his terrible impression, back unfurling from its defensive hunch, then hit his hands away playfully. Normally you would’ve worried about the repercussions of doing something like that to a superior, but the drink was still buzzing through your head and if that weren’t enough Gaz’s smile shone brightly back at you.

“Ghost isn’t spooky,” you affirmed.

“Seriously? Next you’ll tell me that you don’t live in a big haunted castle together.”

“We don’t!” You laughed.

“I bet it has skeleton decorations everywhere. Skull pillows and skeleton paintings, table and chair legs shaped into bones.”

“No!”

“Really? Damn, the man isn’t as predictable as I thought…but honestly tell me. Does he have little skeleton jammies? You can’t seriously tell me that he doesn’t keep the skull look going when he gets home. He probably sits and watches Netflix with his skull top and bottoms and skeleton cuddly toy and skeleton sockies. No? Genuinely?”

You only continued to laugh and shake your head, denying his silly accusations. Gaz smiled back at you, shifting his eyes over you as if he were cataloguing every sign of your delight.

“Oi, time for hilarities is over,” Price said, appearing through the parting crowds. “get ready to get your arses handed to ya. I got us a table”

“You sound awfully confident, Captain,” Gaz said, scraping his chair across the rough floors.

“Because I’m not drunk this time.”

“Don’t need you to be drunk to beat you. Got Pup on my team, we can’t lose.”

-🐺-

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” you murmured, flinching as the cue white ball barely even tapped the yellow ball that you were trying to hit.

Your ears pinned low to your head and your temperature grew as you looked up and down the table and failed to see how you were going to pot even a single ball at the rate you were going. When you’d watched the game being played in the past, you’d assumed it was easy, but apparently the human soldiers were just skilled at it.

Your failure was made all the worse by the fact that Gaz and Price had very dutifully stood and explained the rules and how to use the pool cue when the game had begun. In fact Price had been so thorough on his explanation it prompted Gaz to assert once again that you were going to beat his arse easy. However…

You had taken two attempts and in that time had only nudged that mockingly cheerful yellow ball once. The first attempt where you almost missed even hitting the cue ball altogether didn’t bear thinking about. Meanwhile Price had already potted four. You chewed your lip, hoping Gaz wouldn’t be too annoyed that his tutoring was apparently falling on deaf ears.

“Aw, don’t worry Pup. You’ll get it,” Price chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s your first game!” Gaz reassured

He leaned over then and zeroed in on a striped orange ball, setting his cue across the back of his roughened hand and sawing it back and forth like a wary snake. He’d taken off his brown trucker jacket at the beginning of the match, so now his arms were out in full display, practically suffocating inside the short sleeves he wore and bursting to get out. Your eyes grazed along the cue and danced between the thick hairs on the backs of his forearms and up to his biceps, mesmerised by the shifting muscle.

You missed seeing him finally hit the cue ball, but your ears twitched at the sound and your heart sunk when you both saw and heard the resulting ‘plonk’ of the orange stripe rolling merrily into its pocket. You were so screwed.

“Gonna hold back on making eyesight jokes now, Garrick?” Price questioned, already lining up his next shot.

“Only if you manage to get that blue,” Gaz winked, pointing to a ball that sat nowhere near the cueball.

“Easy, I’ll just hit the ball off the side, let it bank left and then it’ll roll into the pocket,” he grinned.

“Oh yeah, easy,” Gaz scoffed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Watch this, Pup. Captain’s about to embarrass ‘imself.”

“Oi. Keep your shit opinions to yourself!”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but nevertheless the two of you watched in concentrated silence as Price actually started to line up the shot he called. After a few tense seconds of watching him adjust and readjust once more he took a breath then whacked the ball with all the force of a train going through a brick wall. The white ball smacked into the fuzzy green side then banked just shy of the blue striped ball, rolling furiously into the pocket straight after. It landed with a heavy thunk to boot.

“Fuck me,” Price muttered to himself, immediately grabbing for his beer straight after.

“Wahey! Look at that Pup, we’ve got two shots,” Gaz said, heavily patting your shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” you laughed weakly, handing him the cue. “You got this.”

“Woah woah woah,” Gaz said, tilting his head dramatically. “We’re a team, we got this.”

“Well it is your shot.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

He shoved the pool cue back into your hands, but he didn’t step away from you after. He pressed you insistently toward the table and caged his arms between yours, taking your hands with his and adjusting them up the smooth wood. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling at your neck and teasing through your hair. You stiffened up like drying clay when he moulded himself closer into you.

“Don’t freeze up like that, you’re not under attack. Look, I’m gonna show you how to hold it properly and that way you’ll get a good hit alright?”

You chanced a look back at him and caught a look into those molten honey eyes, knowing full well you were a goner. You’d just have to go with whatever he said. After giving him a gentle little nod, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back toward the table, allowing him to slowly arrange your body so that you were in the supposed perfect stance.

His hands were silk, gliding delicately across your arms so that you would place yourself how he wanted. You had to hold yourself back from shivering every time his touch came. Once you were standing how he wanted, he took to laughing and tutting at you until you got your finger into the correct position to support the cue, and only when that was Gaz certified did he allow you to start readying your shot.

“Ok, take it away, Pup. You got this!”

After a couple of practice slides, you drew the cue back one final time, holding your breath as you prepared to send it flying forward and into the purple ball that Gaz had lined up for you. You finally took your shot, watching with wide eyes as the cueball barrelled forward and shunted straight into the purple, sending it toward the pocket while it landed neatly beside a couple more of your balls, ready for the next shot. As soon as the purple landed fully down, you were jumping up in an instant.

“I hit it! I hit it and scored a point,” you said, full smile beaming as you turned to Gaz. “Did you see how fast it went? I wanna do that again!”

Gaz’s sharp canines were on full display again. His eyes travelled low down on your body and he chuckled, and only when you followed his eyeline did you see that your tail was furiously wagging up a storm behind you. It wafted up a big draft of air, blowing gusts through the old newspapers that were piled on the low table behind you.

“I saw. You did good,” Gaz praised, laughing while rubbing the little spot on your cheek that he always did.

“Yes, Pup - very good,” Price added dryly, shaking his head while taking another swig of his drink.

With that the newspapers behind you turned from almost the front pages, toward the nonsense stories at the back.

“What’s got you so excited, fuzzy lugs?”

You turned and saw Soap leaning over the end of the table, slowly swirling his whisky while he assessed the game. His blue eyes rolled from one end and to the other then settled on you, pinning you in place for a moment until you’d realised that he’d asked you a question. You bit your lip and shrugged, trying to downplay yourself a little as you remembered that your victory was being celebrated a little too early.

“I potted a ball,” you shrugged, trying to hide your mellowed tone with a drink.

“Oh did ye, aye? You’ll have to do it again for me and Ghost,” he grinned.

Soap motioned his head to the left, pointing toward Ghost who was taking his time wandering back to Soap’s side. You could smell the cigarette smoke cloying to him as he walked by. It made your nose wrinkle. Though you soon forgot all about it when he shot you a wink.

“Gonna show us your new skills?” He asked.

Now everyone was watching you. No pressure.

You gulped and made your way back to the table side, using your cue like a walking stick. Poking your tongue out, you stood for a second and swayed a little on your unsteady tipsy feet, thinking through your next move. Your eyes roved over the balls, moving between the two most likely candidates until you settled on the green.

After looking up and confirming everyone was still staring, you shuddered. However Gaz gave you an encouraging smile, which spurred you on all the more. A few awkward seconds passed while you tried to reform yourself into the same position Gaz put you in before. Even in your drunken state you still recalled most of the ways he’d shown that you were supposed to position yourself, all the while keeping your hands further up the stick so that you could hit harder and keeping your finger ridgid against it.

You slid it back and forth, once, then another two times and finally you made your move. The cue thwacked into the cueball and sent it rocketing into the green, sending the green ball rolling forward and flying toward the left side pocket. The ball began to lose its momentum just toward the end, it slowed just a little more and then a little more and just when your ears started to collapse downward in disappointment, it managed to creep into the pocket at the last second.

“Holy shit I did it! I did it all by myself!” You squealed, perking back up again and grinning like an idiot.

You turned, making sure everyone had seen it, but before you could take stock everyone you were surrounded by two massive chests. The pressure came quickly crushing you up like a scrapped car. Though you didn’t mind, when your panicked mind realised they were hugging you, you settled into it and wagged your tail.

“That’s my good Pup,” Ghost crooned, his voice even more gravelly than usual.

“You did so good!” Gaz whooped.

They both parted from you and just when you’d adjusted to having full lung capacity again, Soap all but whacked all the air from you with a couple of big pats on the back.

“Well done, furball,” he said lowly, throwing you a sly smile. “Knew you had it in ya. You’re my wee pack mate after all, aren’t ya?”

Your tail wagged even harder at that.

“Yes, very good,” Price barked, smiling despite the faux stern expression he tried to hold. “You taking your next turn or not, Pup?”

“I get another one?” You gawped, looking at the last few balls in awe.

“You get one every time you pot. And if you don’t get on with your next one I’m confiscating it from you.”

“Don’t think that’s in the rules, old man,” Gaz laughed.

“Gotta give myself a chance here, Garrick. You two have bloody hustled me,” Price retorted.

“Oh you think you’re hustled now? Just wait for this next turn.”

-🐺-

You helped Gaz win that game in the end, and as a reward he insisted on carrying you to the taxi on his back. Well, that’s what he intended anyway. He stumbled just as he got out the pub door and collapsed in a fit of drunken laughter. At that point Ghost took over and hoisted you up on his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

Had you been in any state to complain you might’ve, however you were still riding on a winning high and your head was full of bubbles and fizz. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tail continued to sloppily wag even while Ghost carried you, and for the rest of the night he complained about having fur in his mouth. Normally something like that would worry you, thinking you’d annoyed him, but you’d been so carefree you fell asleep on him once he’d lugged you to the sofa.

You’d woken the next morning stretched out fully over a sleeping Ghost and Soap, jumping up in mortification when you realised what you’d done and running to your bed for what felt like an extra five minutes of sleep. Then as a grand result of your wild night out (compared to anything else you’d ever done), you were exhausted the whole next day. So much so that you’d been flagging through a lot of your exercises, but luckily Ghost went easy and structured training so that you got more breaks and got easier tasks to complete. Whether that was more for you or him, you couldn’t really decide.

“Sleepy Pup,” Ghost chuckled, rubbing your cheek with the back of his greasy hand. “We’ll get an early night tonight, huh?”

You hummed in response. The sound of him cleaning his rifle had been relaxing, the cloth fibres smoothly running along the barrel while you leaned against his leg and caught up on a little napping. Normally he would send you off to do something while he did upkeep, but given your low energy he was quite happy to have you rest with him while he worked.

“Alright then, Pup. Time to head off home,” Ghost grunted, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. “We just gotta swing by Price’s office first.”

“Ok,” you said through a yawn.

Your tail crooked off to the side more than usual, and you could feel the fur on your ears sticking up like an animal that had just emerged from hibernation. Had there been a mirror around, you knew you’d be jumping back from it,though luckily that wasn’t the case. Instead you followed listlessly along after Ghost, plodding through the hallways like a mindless golem after its master.

“You ok to wait out here?”

It had barely even registered that you’d reached Price’s door. However when your mind came too, you were out in the dingy hallway that proceeded his room. The two of you standing by the chipped paint patch that looked suspiciously like someone had slammed a chunk out of the wall. You slowly nodded when you finally caught up, the joint in your neck rolling as if automated.

“Try not to fall asleep out here. I’m not carrying you again,” he chuckled. “You need anything, just knock.”

You nodded again and watched him quietly open the door and click it shut. He left you alone in the corridor, staring bleary eyed at the flickering light, absentmindedly falling back against the wall and counting out the seconds between its full beam and little strobe dance. Without fail it would flicker every five to seven seconds.

Footsteps marched down the hallway in the distance, and your ears twitched to their rhythm. The boots slapped against the floors at a quick pace, and slowly muffled voices echoed from out of obscurity and rang through your ears. The two men became clearer by the second, and before long they were crossing your path, just about to walk past you until one of them caught eyes with you and halted as if stopped by an invisible force.

“Care to explain what you’re doing leaning around like that, hybrid?” he growled.

You frowned at him. The man had dark hair closely cropped to his head, save for a small combed over patch on the top and big bushy eyebrows that fell heavy over his dark eyes. His friend meanwhile was almost completely bald, but had a striking scar across his cheek and a birthmark on his neck. Both of them seemed young, though not young enough that they were too fresh to think about messing with you apparently.

“I’m waiting for my handler to finish his meeting with Captain Price,” you said evenly, figuring it was easiest just to answer him.

He didn’t look satisfied with your answer though, his eyes lit up in challenge and his jaw twinged as if biting through bone. All traces of tiredness left you in that instant. Whatever was about to happen couldn’t be good, you were experienced enough to know that much.

“What was that?” the man said, tilting his head for emphasis.

His friend raised his brows, looking between the two with a vexed expression. He musn’t have been as familiar with hybrids, you thought dully, glancing at him while still keeping yourself focused on the combover man. If only one of them was going to be aggressive then defending yourself from whatever they were going to do would be easier.

“I said that I’m waiting for my handler,” you ground out, stiffening your posture.

“Waiting for your handler, sir,” the man corrected, his thick eyebrows casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “You have to show respect to your superior officers.”

You said nothing in response, only nodding your head once and gritting your teeth. Technically that was true, but given Ghost was a Lieutenant that meant that you likely outranked them (given that you were automatically ranked the same as your handler as a hybrid). Those assholes could kick rocks as far as you were concerned, you’d earned your right to speak on their level.

“Do you want a last chance to fix your attitude, hybrid?” he asked, tensing his arms as he leered over you.

His shadow flickered in the wavering light and you couldn’t help but think of him as a demon. His friend put a hand on his back and urged him to ‘just forget about it’, but still the man didn’t budge. He continued to loom over you and stare expectantly, though as far as you were concerned he could wait forever.

He didn’t though. The little shit, took your silence as insolence, and just when he was about to reach out and grab you, you strafed back from him and growled. The sound had the other man widening his eyes, but your main attacker only glared. It spurred him to come for you once again, but again he missed you and then failed to grab you another time after that.

“Get the fuck over here, you little-”

He reached out again to grab you, and finally he’d succeeded, clenching his hand painfully around your arm. However you weren’t going to let him manhandle you like that. You barked out a fearsome roar of defiance and dug your nails, more like claws, into the thick uncovered flesh of his arm and yanked it backward while spinning away from his grip. The yowl of pain he let out interrupted his sentence and sent his friend into a panic trying to drag the man back.

“What the fuck is going on out here?”

The shout echoed out across the concrete walls and all at once you all ceased your rebuttals. Your teeth stayed bared and you continued to pant, staring down the hallway as if possessed by a vengeful force. Meanwhile the two men looked fearfully over at the source of the voice, paling noticeably when they were forced to reckon with your fearsome handler.

Your attacker gulped, loud enough that your sensitive ears picked up on it and swivelled in his direction. He flinched at the movement, but soon straightened up. The pitiful man held out his arm and set his face in a grim expression, using his other hand to motion down at the bleeding claw marks.

“This hybrid attacked me, sir,” the man said, voice far more subdued than it had been before.

Ghost raised his eyebrow from behind his mask and looked over at you. Once he’d finally assessed the state you were in, he put his body in between the two of you and set to work calming you down. He took your collar in his hand and directed you to look at him, smoothing his hand down your back and blocking your view of the perceived hostile. After which, he took to gently shushing your panting and making calming noises.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a few moments, smoothing his hands over your ruffled hair.

“Well, what happened was-” the man’s friend began.

“Wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Ghost growled, not even sparing a look back.

Your mouth twitched into a smile, but Ghost didn’t indulge it. He set his eyes on you with a serious frown and forced a sigh from your lips. Part of you had thought that Ghost might be on your side, but now a little voice in the back of your mind was trying to scream past a crumbling barrier - it told you that maybe Ghost was going to give up on his gentle handler act. It would make sense, you thought, you were a bad soldier, you didn’t deserve the nice treatment to begin with.

“I was waiting for you and then…I was asked what I was doing and then, when I explained myself, I was told I wasn’t being respectful enough. He tried to grab me and I fought him off,” you said awkwardly, not wanting to meet his eyes any longer.

“Sir, that hybrid was leaning around - not even waiting at attention and when I tried to address their behaviour, I was given nothing but bad attitude back. I was trying to correct it’s bad behaviour when it saw fit to scratch me up like a fucking feral cat!” The man fumed.

“Correct their behaviour?” Ghost asked, turning to man finally. “How were you going to correct my hybrid’s behaviour exactly?”

Your heart dropped into your belly. Every instinct within you screamed out that you were about to meet Ghost’s iron fist at last. You were going to experience a lashing at the very least and at worst, he might take everything you had come to care about away from you. Hot salty tears brimmed on top of your cheeks, finally overflowing at the thought that Ghost might’ve only given you all those things so that it would hurt more having them taken away again.

You made sure to sob quietly, sniffling softly into your hand so that you wouldn’t antagonise Ghost any further. Tears won’t get you anywhere in the army, mutt, Maddox’s voice chirped in the back of your mind. You almost missed the man’s pathetic whimpering answer.

“Well…I was going to give it a slap, sir. Strike some sense into it.”

“I see,” Ghost replied, wide back still obscuring the man from you.

You doubted you’d make anything out past your tears anyway. In your mind everything was in the process of being ripped out of your life again, the team were going to look at you like the disappointment you knew you were, your things were going to be scrapped and stripped down to bare essentials once more and you’d never get to feel Simon the cuddlytoy’s soft fur ever again. However you were ripped out of your little pity parade with the sound of a hard smack.

Your ears perked up and you jumped back a pace or two, looking around for the source of the noise until you looked past Ghost and saw your attacker rubbing his cheek and groaning. For a second, you couldn't quite believe what had happened, but soon enough the man was wrenching his hand away from his face in an effort to save face and it revealed an angry looking red patch of skin. It really had happened - Ghost had slapped the soldier. 2

“You think that’s knocked some sense into you, Second Lieutenant?” Ghost sneered. “Don’t you fucking dare breathe in the direction of another handler’s hybrid ever again, nevermind think that you have the right to discipline them, you self-righteous little cunt. Get out of my sight the pair of ya.”

The man opened his mouth, about to say something in his defence until his friend nodded sharply and began to drag him away. Not wanting to cause more of a scene the man relented, but the way he glared as he turned told you that this wasn’t over. There was a new target on Ghost’s back now.

However, said back was turning away from you now and Ghost was facing you once again and pulling you into his arms. After a shocked second of fear, readying yourself to be hit or similarly reprimanded, you slowly came to realise he didn’t mean to hurt you at all. He was hugging you and rubbing your back, telling you that it was alright.

“Wh- what are you doing?” you asked feebly, trying your best not to hiccup or sniff through your words.

“Trying to comfort you, if you’ll let me,” Ghost snorted, slowly walking you backward.

You walked with him, but only grew more confused as he dragged you into Price’s office and forced you to sit on the old ratty couch and curl up with him. Out of the corner of your bleary eyes you saw Price sitting at his desk and watching you both with concern, gathering up a few bottles of water onto his desk. In front of you, Ghost wrapped his grip ever tighter round you and got you to bury your head into his neck.

“It’s over now, Pup,” Ghost said softly, smoothing over your salt scorched cheek. “You’re ok.”

“But…you- aren’t you going to punish me?” you asked, freeing yourself from his hold a little and drawing away from his usually relaxing scent so that you could make an effort to think straight.

“You’ve not done anything worth punishment,” he said gently.

“I scratched someone,” you whined, looking down at your still bloody hands with a wobbling lip.

“Someone that saw fit to break protocol and try to discipline a hybrid that wasn’t theirs. You had every right to defend yourself. You’re not going to be punished for that.”

“Especially not when the punishment he had in mind didn’t fit the crime in the first place. Corporal punishment is supposed to be reserved for serious offences Pup, not for leaning or having a bad attitude,” Price added, coming to sit at your other side. “Here, take a drink of this. You need it, you’ve made yourself unwell.”

He handed you a water bottle and gave you a serious look until you finally took it from him and slowly uncapped it. Through a series of uneasy sips, your heart began to regulate and your body stopped shaking. You hadn’t even realised that you had been shaking. The realisation made you sign, taking a couple breaths until you could clear your mind enough to reach some level of proper awareness again.

“I thought it was all going to go away,” you sighed, leaning against Ghost’s chest when you knew that things were normal again.

“What was going to go away?” Ghost asked, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

You bathed in his and Price’s joint attentions, letting Ghost rub your cheek and Price smooth a hand over your shoulders and back. For a few luxurious seconds you let yourself revel in the fact that you were wrong. The stupid little panicky voice in your head was a liar. Everything was just as it had been.

“Everything,” you said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “I thought you were going to take all my things away and start treating me like they did at my old base. Thought I was going to be sent to the post…”

“Mark my words, anyone tries to lash you again and they’ll have the entire 141 to answer to, Pup,” Price said, voice coming through in a low growl.

“And I’d never take away your things,” Ghost vowed, cupping your cheek so that you had to look at him. “They’re given to you as payment for your service to us. They’re not for me or anyone else to take away, just like Price can’t rip my things from me. Nothing’s going away and you’re never going to be treated the way you were ever again. You’re ours, alright? We always protect our own.”

You stared at them both in disbelief, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The exhaustion and the upset combined and you were left feeling more drained than you had been in days. Instead you settled down back into Ghost’s collar bones and let yourself be petted and fussed over, sleepily letting your eyes close for the last time that day.

“Just wait till Soap and Gaz hear about this. That bastard’ll be lucky to see sunrise tomorrow,” you only just heard Price whisper darkly, before scratching a calloused hand over your ears.

“Now now, Price,” Ghost murmured back. “Gotta make it look like an accident.”

#reign down on me #simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader

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brokenmutations · 4 months ago

Text

Not just a “Fling”

Logan Howlett • She/Her Pronouns • Mutant!Reader [Heat Manifestation] • You and Logan were never…exclusive. It’s always been a friends with benefits even if the friend part is silent. But when a scare happens, it draws Logan out of that state of mind • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Illusions to sex / hickeys / biting • TW: Pregnancy Scare / Injuries / Scars / Anxiety

There seems to be a routine with it.

Logan waits outside of Y/N’s class whenever he was in the mood, and she would wait outside of his for the same reason—-then they would go to Y/N’s room in the mansion, have a little fun, and Logan leaves almost immediately after.

It’s a bit surprising that no one has caught on to their situationship. Logan is the master of denial and 90% of the time they would believe him, but when the accusations hit Y/N about the two of them. That 90 becomes 100%. She knows he doesn’t want more out of the two of them so what’s the point in feeding into her “delusional” feelings.

“So, you and Logan—-“

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s nothing, Jean?” Y/N sighs, getting her suit on for the mission she, Jean, and Scott were assigned to. She was testing out new thermal gloves that Hank designed for her mutation so while Jean focused on her love life, she was more looking forward to the long gloves.

“C’mon! I see the way he looks at you”

Like a piece of meat Y/N thought and had a bit of a “wait a minute” moment giving Jean a look but was instantly met with confusion. Thankful she didn’t read her mind.

“You sure you don’t see the two of you…I don’t know…together in the future?”

“No” How quick Y/N’s answer is what brought disappointment on Jean’s face.

“You sure you don’t need an extra hand?” Logan asks Scott as they were headed toward the hanger. Scott side eyed him even if he couldn’t tell with the visor he has. “What? It doesn’t hurt to have back up”

“For a scouting mission? The backup can stay comfortably here. But I promise you, with Jean alone, Y/N and I will be safe. Hell. I don’t have to go really. Professor asked me to go along with them but the two could’ve handled it alone” Scott realizes he was rambling and before they entered the hanger, he stopped Logan. “We’re good.” and with that he entered alone but when the doors were hissing shut, Y/N caught a glimpse of Logan and vise versa.

The scouting mission was a success…for the most part. They did get themselves into a pickle but didn’t call for backup on the matter. Scott handled it, after a few shots were fired and a few grazing Y/N. Nothing too serious.

Room in 5

Logan stares at the text he received and downed his beer that he kept hidden from the students. Tossing the bottle in the bin after removing the label so the professor wouldn’t get pissed about alcohol in the building.

The second he entered the room without being seen, the man was shoved against the closed door and Y/N’s lips met his in an instant. Logan didn’t mind this one bit. He thought it was odd that the lights weren’t on when he entered but with the way her hands were taking off his belt then his pants along with it…his mind blanked and focused on one thing.

Fucking her until she forgot her name.

After their fun, Y/N shifted in her spot turning her head toward the sleeping form beside her. He’s never slept over she thought and there was good reason he didn’t, aside from their “rules.” She slowly sat up in her bed letting the blanket fall and the coolness of the room draw a shiver out of her when it hit her bare chest. She reached over and the palm of her hand glowed a light red, pressing itself into his skin and causing him to wake. The heat she emitted wasn’t enough to cause damage, just enough to bring warmth.

Logan jolted awake, giving Y/N a confused look that didn’t last long. “Sorry”

“It’s whatever. Just make sure no one sees you” Y/N slipped out of the bed in her naked glory making her way toward the bathroom, she flicked the light on and Logan took note of the hickeys that littered her neck, a few bite marks on her shoulder, and the bandages on her arm from her injuries. “Take a picture it’ll last longer”

“Can I?” Logan smirks getting out of the bed and making his way over, with hopes for a round two in the shower but she gently placed her hand on his chest to stop him. “Is that a no?”

“It is a firm…no” Y/N gently pushed him back seeing the smirk not leave his face. “I need a shower and you need to clean up for drinks later”

“Thinking of ditching that, if you do too…we don’t have to leave this room” He smirks leaning against the doorframe as Y/N crosses her arms eyeing him up and down. “See something you like?”

“Yes…but I could also use a drink…” Y/N weighed her odds before sighing. “You can join me in the shower, but you need to leave after. I’d like to see Scott’s drunk ass try and sing Bye Bye Bye later so I can record it for blackmail” she smirks stepping back and letting him in as he shuts the door behind him.

Loud and terrible singing coming from Cyclops himself can be heard throughout the bar followed by drunk cheering from his other half. Y/N sat at the bar watching this unfold as Ororo went up to Scott to join him in fishing the song in which Y/N stopped recording. She looked over at the booth the rest of the team was at as she couldn’t help but feel herself stare at Logan and Jean talking to one another.

One of the many reasons she doesn’t want to pursue something. Or whatever she’s trying to call it. She’s not intimated by Jean, just knows how much she means to Logan. So meaningless sex it is. All…her feelings…for the emotionally unavailable, just had to stay dormant.

Until the alcohol kicked in.

“Y/N!!!! Come sing a song” Ororo called out to her as Y/N downs the last of her fourth drink and got up off the stool making her way to the stage. The only cheers coming from her and Scott who slumped against the table.

Y/N punched in the song and took the microphone from Ororo staring out into the bar with very few patrons.

“Love of my life…you’ve hurt me” Y/N starts, her eyes moving to the floor. “You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me…love of my life can’t you see?”

As she continues to sing the Queen song, Jean leaned into Logan tipsy herself as the sober Wolverine kept his eyes on Y/N.

“Just admit you love her already…” Jean whines, grabbing his arm shaking him. “We both know you dooooo….”

“I don’t, Jeanie.” Stop lying to yourself.

“You know I can read your mind”

“In the state you’re in?” Logan quirked an eyebrow looking at her as she had closed her eyes after saying such, half expecting her to be trying but then she started to snore. “Yeah that’s what I thought”

“You will remember…when this is blown over…” Y/N sat on the edge of the stage, looking over to Logan who kept his attention on Jean. “And everything’s all by the way…when I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you…”

How I still love you

Y/N didn’t finish the song and decided to close their tab before drunkly helping Logan load everybody up in Scott’s car. The other three passed out on the drive while Y/N who was slowly but surely started to sober up had fought against sleep even if Logan kept telling her to.

“Should’ve stayed home…”

“Liking my plan right about now, huh?” Logan looked at her, noticing the grimace on her face as he was about to question if that’s toward him. But with a quick look to the car door, he pulled over watching her push it open and vomit her guts out. “Yeah…definitely.” He put the car in park and before he could even think of helping her, he heard Scott gag which only meant he was next to vomit.

What a gross chain reaction. But they EVENTUALLY made it back to the mansion.

Y/N collapsed on her bed feeling gross and in a desperate need for another shower. Maybe five. She couldn’t stop thinking about the song she sang and how close Jean and Logan were. She thought she truly shoved her feelings away.

But she’s really just a temporary relief.

With her feelings lying on the surface, she hasn’t hooked up with Logan as much as she did before. Maybe once a week? Or once every other week? Still a lot given Logan can last for hours but they used to fuck like bunnies and now Logan is standing outside of her classroom for more reasons outside of the physical.

“Penny for your thoughts, Logan?”

The professor caught him staring at Y/N who was simply grading papers.

“Uhm. No. What do you want?”

“Ororo needs assistance on a quick meet up for intel on Magneto’s whereabouts. Mind joining her?”

Logan nods before leaving to meet up with Ororo, leaving Charles to linger at the door bringing his attention onto Y/N who locked eyes with him.

Stay out of my head, Charles Y/N frowns as he decided against her words wheeling himself in and right beside his desk. She stopped what she was doing, gripping her hands tight. “How much do you know?”

“I didn’t snoop too far into your mind. Just the surface of not wanting Logan at the door…and the fear that…well” Charles shrugs with a worried expression toward her. “You might be pregnant”

Y/N’s face went from annoyance to a hint of rage as she looks at Charles gripping her fists that glowed red.

“Stay out of my mind.”

“Y/N, you should get a test or have Han—-“

“Charles. Leave before I burn this whole mansion down.” She snapped watching him nod quickly and leaving. But her heat wouldn’t cool fast enough so she got up and ran out of the classroom.

Having run past Charles and a couple of students on her way to the back of the mansion, only brought more concern for her as he wheeled himself out urgently which caught Scott’s attention in passing.

“Professor what’s—-“

“Get Y/N a towel, if you don’t mind” Charles frowns as Y/N stood in the shallow part of the lake before slumping and sitting in the muck for a while. “I’ve got this”

As Scott leaves, Charles brought himself as close as he could to the lake without falling in. Y/N turned to him with an apologetic look and tears rolling off her cheeks.

“You know. Whatever happens, and whatever you decide…we are here for you. I’m here for you. You’re my family, Y/N”

Y/N continued to sob as she dragged herself out of the lake bringing herself to Charles and he did not hesitate to open his arms to her. Letting her drenched self bring herself into his arms and onto his lap. He didn’t care about the suit he wore or anything on that matter. She wanted the comfort and he gladly gave that to her.

The wild goose chase Logan was on, only pissed him off and he wanted to relieve those emotions but when he reached Y/N’s room the door was open. He hesitantly stepped inside not sensing her in the room but as he entered and looked around for a brief moment. He was about to leave when he noticed a few boxes on her dresser.

It felt like the worse timing for Y/N to come back, smelling like a pond and having to come to a decision. But when she came in and saw Logan holding up the boxes of pregnancy tests she felt all that anxiety return.

“I don’t know yet”

“Were you gonna tell me?”

“Yes”

“Now how do I know you’re not lying to me on that? Most people don’t tell the other person until it’s too late”

“I’m not like most people and you would know that if what we have wasn’t just sex.” Y/N snapped, taking the boxes out of his hands. “You’ll be the first to know, Logan. But trust me. If you don’t want this…to be tied down with me forever if this comes out positive? Then you don’t fucking have to” she said with a bit of a harsh shove of him out the room. Logan quickly turned and before he could say anything, she shut the door on him.

His mood affected those around him for the rest of the school day that Scott reluctantly invited him to drinks just them. Even if Jean and Ororo invited themselves after he told Jean what he was doing that night.

“So no Y/N?” Jean questions with a frown as Ororo looked up from her phone hoping for a reason why. But with how Logan was gripping the door to Scott’s car from the passenger’s seat, a soft sigh escape Scott.

“She got swamped with grading. Told me she’s been behind on papers for her class and decided to stay back at the mansion”

Once they were at the bar, Ororo got a booth with Jean which left Scott and Logan to get the first round of drinks. But even after a couple rounds, Logan didn’t budge from the bar. So once Scott knew the girls were alright and comfortable with the bar food he got for them, he went to join Logan.

The awkward silence grew between the two until Scott decided ripping off the bandage was the right plan.

“Listen. I didn’t know you and Y/N were serious in any way. But you know you have more than a team right? I know we butt heads a lot but—-“

“Shut it. Y/N and I…we’re…Fuck off. We’re not…whatever it is” Logan groans pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is that why you asked me to join yall? To talk about my feelings about her being fucking pregnant?”

Scott sighs leaning against the bar. “See now I didn’t know that last part and for someone who can’t get drunk, you’re spilling a lot to me. Of all people”

“…What do you want?”

“To help you. Why are you feeling the way you’re feeling…if you were never something more”

Logan squinted at Scott before gesturing for another drink and to give Scott another of the club soda he was drinking before getting into it.

“She told me I don’t have to. I don’t have to be there…and before I could say anything, she shut the door in my face”

“If she hadn’t, what would you have said?”

A tight grip on his new bottle relaxed and the big scary Wolverine everyone knows…took a moment to fall apart. Fold. Crack.

“I would’ve told her…I never thought I wanted this…until she came around. Until it just. Fucking happened…I want to be there…I’m….” Logan sat up straighter and ditched his beer along with Scott and the girls.

The bar isn’t exactly close to the mansion. Nor is the weather the best in Westchester County. Logan got a cab but when it wasn’t going fast enough, the man stepped out and ran back to the mansion in the rain.

When he stumbled into the mansion, he dealt with a few straggling students that should be in their dorms but instead of scowling them he ran toward the teacher side of the dorms.

Y/N lifted her head from her book when she heard pounding on her door. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she tossed her book on the bed next with her blanket off her lap before going to the door.

The now very wet Logan appeared on the other side of the door and given Y/N’s mood hasn’t changed on matters, she tried to shut the door on him again but Logan slammed his palm against the door.

“You have to listen to me”

“I don’t have to do shit”

“Y/N, baby—-Please” Logan pleaded, bringing his body into the frame where it would only hurt if she tried to shut the door again. “Just let me talk, alright?”

Y/N’s anger relaxed but she was still mad…she took a step back to let him into her room, closing the door. “Why are you wet? You’re lucky you can’t get sick…”

“Ran in the rain. Had to get here. Had to get to you. Tell you everything” Logan paced slightly tugging at the wet clothes which only prompted Y/N to go into her dresser pulling out one of his flannels tossing it to the bed before going into her bathroom to get him a towel. “You kept that?”

“After one of our…excursions…you left in a hurry with just your pants on and shoes in hand that you forgot your flannel so…yeah I kept it…” Y/N found herself trailing before jumping back into it while Logan took off his wet clothes. “What is it, Logan? And I’m going to not face you when you strip because your nudity is going to cloud my judgement”

The second she turned around, Logan felt nervous. He hasn’t felt this nervous in a long time.

“I want you.” He started and he knows by the way she tensed that she read it as the other need. “And not in just…how we’ve been doing it. I want you…Y/N, I need you. As much as you think this was it and that’s what it looks like…But I’ve noticed every little thing you do that makes you, you.” He stepped closer once he got the flannel on and was now standing behind her with just the shirt and boxers. “How you don’t want to wait for the kitchen to be free and use your mutation to make grilled cheese…then Ororo and sometimes Kurt will beg for their own when they catch you doing that….” He chuckles lightly, hearing her soft giggle. “Listening to you hum softly when you’re focused on something, whether that be on a mission or helping a student…the warmth you give, regardless of your mutation…while you can be a bit wild on the field and when certain unexpected things happen…you always have this warmth…that’s welcoming. Even to someone like me…”

Y/N felt the loose tears roll off her cheeks, as the warmth from his closeness engulfed her when he brought his arms around her frame.

“I’m sorry. For yelling at you…I was afraid and shouldn’t have assumed you wouldn’t have told me…that you’d lie to me” Logan whispers, resting his chin on her shoulder bringing her close as she held onto his arms. “You are more than just a fling…and this was a wake up call. That I want more. I want more with you…even when the next steps aren’t in order”

The tears continued as she gently pulls away to turn around looking up at him.

“Yeah?” Her voice cracked with the tears still falling but he brought his hands to cradle her face gently wiping away the tears. “L-Logan, I’m scared though…”

“Listen, Y/N. Listen to me carefully…” Logan held her face slightly making her look at him as he brought his close. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what the test says.”

Everything he’s been saying, felt so out of character. But he’s always had this soft center he’d crack open for, for his person. Y/N brought her arms around his neck pulling him into his arms holding onto him tightly, feeling his arms return around her frame holding her close.

When she took the test, Logan sat with her on her bed waiting for the three minutes to pass. Y/N’s face gave the result away as it went from fear to the smallest hint of disappoint to a sense of relief. She turns to Logan who shared more of the disappointed feeling on his face.

“You’re off the hook” She laughs softly feeling him nudge her with a hint of annoyance. “What?”

“For now.” Logan stated with his signature smirk, only for Y/N to pat his chest resting her head on his shoulder. “I meant it. I’m not going anywhere and if the future has this in it…We’ll be perfect”

“Flaws and all” Y/N says softly feeling his arm wrap around her shoulders. “So what’s next, Logan Howlett?”

“Officially making you mine” Logan smirks bringing his lips to hers and it felt right this time.

And for forever after.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #x men #brokenmutations

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tender-rosiey · 2 years ago

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heyy, may i ask for a satoruxreader where its readers birthday and gojo and megumi are tryna bake a cake for reader? (ofc gojo has a backup cake that he bought just incase anything goes wrong cuz ofc its gojo what do you expect)

kind — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: what do you guys do when people start singing happy bday? I just smile until my cheeks hurt 🥲 anyways this is set when megumi was still a kid

"megumi, wake up!" satoru yells as he slams the door of the boy's room open. naturally, he is met with one ruthless glare, but he rapidly tries to save himself, "before you get mad, look at the date!"

the boy grumbles before getting up and checking the calendar. his eyes widen at the 'y/n's birthday' written under the date. quickly, he scrambles to his feet and starts pulling satoru downstairs and towards the entrance.

"where are we going?" satoru inquires the rushing megumi.

megumi pauses then looks at him, confused and wondering just why is this guy so stupid, "to get the cake obviously."

satoru laughs loudly and starts shaking his head, "megumi, megumi, megumi…we are going to bake the cake ourselves!"

the boy in question pales at the suggestion and looks at his sister's room in hopes of her waking up and rescuing him. however, the girl does not get the telepathic waves her brother is sending and is still soundly asleep.

so megumi is then dragged by one very excited gojo satoru. satoru eagerly wears his apron—one that has a very proud catoru on it—then he helps megumi put his own. megumi’s apron has a chibi drawing of his divine dogs and no matter how much he denies it, it’s obvious that he likes it.

while satoru gets the ingredients, megumi is laying out the rules for today’s baking mission. satoru does glare at him every now and then but he can’t exactly complain. his experiences with baking are disasters that can't be ignored.

so naturally, the little boy was in charge of the measurements cause god forbid satoru does it.

“satoru, how the hell did you mess that up?!”

“y/n, it said two spoons!”

“TABLE SPOONS NOT TWO SPOONS FROM A FREAKING SPATULA, YOU SUGAR OBSSESSED—“

so no, satoru shall never touch something related to measurements. the both of them stand in front of the ingredients, determination radiating off of them.

satoru takes hold of the recipe and starts reading, “we need a cup of white sugar!”

nodding, megumi swiftly gets the cup and hands it to satoru.

satoru pours it in the bowl and megumi has to stop him from ‘taste-testing’. from there on, they start working in (partial) harmony—fighting every now and then with megumi almost losing his marbles over the supposed adult trying to eat something every minute.

after a bit, they are finally done with the dry ingredients, each of them sporting a handful of flour on his hair. megumi glares up at satoru, “you ruined my hair.”

“now you will look more like me and people won’t think that I kidnapped you!” satoru beams but megumi easily ignores him.

said boy grumbles and starts padding away to get the wet ingredients, doing his best to gather them in his arms and delivering them in one trip. satoru simply watches him with a little grin before asking, “say, what do you think of y/n?”

after putting the ingredients on the counter, megumi looks up at satoru, confused, “why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I mean it’s obvious you like her more than me,” satoru fake sniffles—in megumi’s eyes it’s asking to be punched but oh well, “but, I want to hear you say it.”

satoru doesn’t expect him to answer so he doesn’t question any further.

satoru starts pouring the wet ingredients together. he starts humming a soft tune, your favorite song, and finally combining the ingredients together. he then hands megumi the bowl for him to mix the batter.

the boy silently does it. and they are left to bask in the silence, before megumi finally speaks up, “I think she is nice…probably one of the kindest people I have met.”

satoru smiles at him then laughs lightly, patting the boy’s head, “that’s good.”

when megumi is done with the mixing, he—with the help of gojo—pours the batter in the baking pan. megumi’s face is troubled for a moment before he looks at satoru, “you’re going to marry her, right?”

proudly, satoru nods, “was planning on doing it even before your little grumpy-self showed up.”

megumi watches satoru put the baking pan in the oven with ease. satoru then dusts his hands and megumi glares at him, “break her heart and I will fight you.”

satoru grins, frame towering over the boy, “you think you can win?”

the boy nods up at the white-haired man and gets into a fighting stance almost immediately, summoning his divine dogs. satoru quirks a brow and he seems like he is going to fight megumi as well, but, instead, he bends down to ruffle the boy’s hair.

normally, he would instantly swat his hand away, but right now, it catches megumi by surprise and he looks at satoru wide-eyed.

“you don’t have to worry about me breaking her heart.”

reluctantly, megumi looks down and mutters a small ‘good’.

after a long while, they hear your voice, “I am home!”

“Y/N!!!!!” your boyfriend screams the moment you step in. he tackles you into a very big hug and starts peppering your face in kisses, “how was your day?”

“it was okay,” you pat his head then you look at the boy, “hey, megumi! how’re you?”

megumi nods with a small smile and you chuckle before noticing what he is wearing, “what’s with the aprons, you guys?”

satoru, who hasn’t stopped kissing your cheek since you entered, replies excitedly, “we were trying cook something!”

you sweatdrop and nervously look at your boyfriend, “…and how did that turn out?”

“hey!” he huffs, “you need to have some faith in my cooking skills!”

“satoru, last time I did that you—“

“what’s that burning smell?” a sleepy tsumiki mumbles as she finally gets out of her room.

megumi and satoru share a look before satoru darts to the kitchen screaming about his masterpiece. you and the kids follow suit. when you enter, you find satoru on his knees—devastated and probably about to start act two of his ‘I am great cook’—with a very burnt cake in his hands.

tsumiki goes to pat the sad cook’s back while megumi grumbles, “I shouldn’t have unrealistic expectations anymore.”

you chuckle at the scene unfolding in front of you. however, you already find yourself walking towards satoru. he quickly throws himself into your embrace. rolling your eyes, you still rub his back to comfort him about his deceased cake.

what you don’t notice is satoru winking at megumi who gets the cue to close the lights.

you look around in the now dark room, “did the lights go out again?—“

satoru disappears from your arms and you hear rustling and whispers. however, it quickly quiets down and when the lights are back on, you’re met with quite the sight.

satoru, megumi, and tsumiki are all wearing birthday party hats. there is also a very humongous cake on the counter.

the cake has a miniature version of the four of you. mini megumi is noticeably grumpy with mini tsumiki having the sweetest smile on her face—just like the real one. mini satoru is latching onto your mini version who looks done with everything around her.

there are also towers of gifts distributed in the entire room.

but you barely have time to focus on them any further before satoru eagerly blows a birthday whistle and screaming out, “on my mark—three, two, one, go! happy birthday to you!”

the kids sing along—though megumi does it a little shyly.

overwhelmed, your eyes start to tear up and satoru’s feet naturally take him to you. his arm is around your waist as he pulls you close and continues singing for you.

megumi also makes his way to stand beside you with tsumiki tagging along. you lock eyes with satoru who smiles tenderly at you, singing, “happy birthday, dear y/n,” he presses a kiss right under your eye while wiping your tears, “happy birthday, y/n.”

“WOHOOO!” satoru loudly cheers and picks you up, twirling you around making you laugh. when he sets you down, he presses one loud smooch to your cheek once again.

tsumiki giggles before she quips, “blow the candle, y/n!”

your head snaps towards satoru who is already smirking at you. you narrow your eyes, “don’t you even dare. it’s my birthday!”

“really now?” he tilts his head before easily throwing you over his shoulder and quickly blowing out all the candles, ignoring your nonstop hitting of his back. he then starts spinning around and his laughter fills the room.

“SATORU, YOU’RE GOING TO DROP ME! STOP!”

“NEVERRRRR!”

meanwhile, megumi and tsumiki are left sighing at the scene in front of them.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo imagines

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tau1tvec · 1 year ago

Text

Some tips for The Sims 3 Buy/Build

Install LazyDuchess’ Smooth Patch to alleviate lag, esp in Buy/Build and CAS.

Keep your CC merged and organized, esp your patterns, this will also alleviate a lotta lag across all modes.

When building on community lots, or any lot rlly, avoid going to the edit world menu, and just put testingcheats enabled into the cheat window, then shift+click the ground of the lot to enter Buy/Build mode. This makes leaving it to save a lot easier, with less “preparing” screens to possibly get hung up in.

Lower your settings, you don’t need any adjacent lots loaded, and you certainly don’t need super water on either. You can always switch these back on when you’re done.

While you’re at it, remove your HQ mod, and turn off your Reshade/Gshade preset, or at least turn off your depth shaders. I only ever turn on my depth shaders when I’m taking screenshots for better fps while playing. The DoF shader esp requires a lotta resources your game could be using to simulate all those 78 townie sims instead.

Save as… vs Save, I Save as… at least every third save. It’s also just good habit to keep backups.

When using the CASt tool, set down everything you plan to CASt first, then switch to a category like the wall tool to avoid eventual lag and drag when using it a lot. Love yourself. You don’t have to suffer using CASt tool in an overpopulated category like misc deco.

Utilize the clone option through testing cheats to duplicate already CASted objects, it’ll keep your design just like the dropper tool, but it’s a lot less time consuming, I promise.

Don’t be afraid to use the swatch save tool for objects you use often, esp community lot objects, as it helps to keep your aesthetic consistent. I also keep all of my favorite streetlamps, benches, and public trash bins etc in a convenient custom collection folder to speed up the process of doing multiple lots in one sitting. These handy tools are there, use them.

The issue with custom counters. They mess up sometimes, if you can’t recolor it suddenly, here’s how to fix that. Now if you can’t place down a cupboard suddenly, even though nothing’s in the way, and you’ve got moveobjects on activated, try putting it on the wall a tile over, and then try adding it to your desired spot again. Lastly if you set down counters or cupboards at a corner, and it messes up the textures, but you can still recolor it, you could do what the video I linked above does, or you could simply pull out the CASt tool, and switch it back to any of its original swatches and click the check, then feel free to recolor it as you want.

Railings will also do the “can’t recolor” trick too, but this is a simple fix, just delete it, and replace it, and you’re good.

“Oh no, I switched between buy and build mode, and now my catalogue won’t load, and I can’t click on anything at all!” Don’t panic, hit F2 and/or F3 on your keyboard, these are shortcuts for switching between them, and if you’re lucky it’ll load properly again. Should you get the bug where you load a category and it’s somehow empty, don’t fret, just click on a different category and this should fix it. Then if you get the bug where all the objects you put down disappear suddenly, sorry your game is haunted. Call an exorcist, or just reload, they might reappear if you do.

Tbh, if you run into any kind of major bugs, it’s likely a sign to either save immediately or just restart your game. These only ever show up when you’ve been at it a while ( at least for me ), therefore starting fresh wouldn’t hurt. Probably also wouldn’t hurt to check whether you might’ve installed something the game didn’t agree with by running Dashboard, or put it through the ol’ Save Cleaner.

Honorable Mention: Keep an eye on the texture sizes and poly counts of objects. I know it’s tempting to build these ultra hyperrealistic lots with clutter at every inch, but unless you’re just doing it for screenshots, or for your story, or using it very sparingly, it is not by any means recommended purely for gameplay. This is just the truth when it comes to any Sims game. You don’t want lag, or max memory crashes, or save errors? The Sims 3 is a 32bit game, that’s almost old enough to drive, be easy on it.

#the sims 3 #ts3 #tips and tricks

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pandapetals · 3 months ago

Note

I absolutely LOVE your stories! They’re some of my favorites to read, especially the Logan and reader being in an established relationship series. They’re so adorable 🥰

I was wondering if you could do a story with Logan (any Logan) and his girlfriend/wife (could be the established relationship series or separate). The girlfriend/wife is jealous of a female mutant Logan has to do a mission with where they have to act like a couple…something like that!

Thank you so much! <3 I had to rework this like 5 times but I think I'm finally happy with it. Thank you for the request and hopefully I did it justice.

logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - jealousy, angst, jean slander sorry–she’s the mutant who tries something on logan, some fluff at the end, soft logan, cocky logan, mission, x-men, established relationship, no y/n used, no reader description, mutant reader but no powers mentioned

The tension in Xavier’s office was thick, almost suffocating, like a storm cloud pressing down on the room. Everyone stood with rapt attention as Xavier outlined the mission, his calm, steady voice doing little to ease the weight of what was at stake. This was no routine intel-gathering run. Rumor had it that a mutant underground club was doubling as a recruitment hub for Magneto’s latest scheme. If the rumors were true, the people inside could be dangerous—either willing recruits or innocents caught in the crossfire. The team’s job was to confirm the truth without tipping their hand. Subtlety was key.

Subtlety, unfortunately, wasn’t Logan’s strong suit. And focusing, apparently, wasn’t yours.

You tried to focus—really, you did—but the heat of Logan’s shoulder brushing against yours kept pulling your attention away like a magnet tugging at metal.

It wasn’t entirely his fault—you knew that. Since you and Logan started dating, focusing on anything else has become challenging. Especially when Logan, with that cocky smirk and the gleam of mischief in his hazel eyes, seemed to delight in testing your resolve.

“I can tell you’re not listening, gorgeous,” Logan murmured, his gravelly voice low enough for only you to hear. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your pulse quicken as his arm brushed lightly against yours.

You shot him a warning look, though your hand betrayed you by slipping around his waist, pulling him just a bit closer. “I am listening,” you whispered.

Logan turned his head slightly, the stubble along his jaw catching the light. “Oh yeah?” he muttered, his tone dripping with amusement. “What did Chuck just say?”

You opened your mouth, a retort ready, but Xavier’s voice broke through before you could fire back. “You and Logan will cover the west side together. Jean and Scott, the east. Ororo will remain in position for aerial observation and backup.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course, you and Logan were paired together. How were you supposed to focus on anything when he was constantly finding ways to get under your skin—and under your dress if you weren’t careful?

Xavier continued, “The club caters to both humans and mutants, so your priority is to remain inconspicuous. Blend in. Gather intel. And for once,” his gaze lingered pointedly on Logan, “please keep things subtle.”

Logan shrugged, utterly unbothered by the implication. “Subtle’s my middle name.”

Beside him, Scott let out a snort, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, right.”

Everyone nodded, the plan solidified and began filing out of the room. Logan lingered just long enough to lean down, his lips brushing your ear. “West side, huh? Guess we’ll be busy.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the way your cheeks flushed. “Don’t slow me down.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The mission led the team to a dimly lit part of the city where the target location—a grungy underground club—throbbed with energy. Neon signs flickered above the entrance, throwing shades of electric blue and pink across the sidewalk. The thumping bass spilled into the street, vibrating through the soles of your boots. You could already feel the tension of the place: it wasn’t just another club. The air buzzed with unspoken power as if everyone inside was waiting for something—or someone.

You tugged at the hem of your black dress, feeling exposed compared to the usual leather uniforms. The club’s dress code dictated a casual look, but “casual” for Logan apparently meant his usual jeans, a worn leather jacket, and a white shirt that clung just enough to remind you why your focus always wavered around him. He caught your eyes roaming and smirked.

“You clean up nice,” you said, though your tone was dry to keep your cool.

Logan’s smirk only deepened. “Don’t look too hard, sweetheart. We’re supposed to be blending in, not staring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “But you love it.”

Before you could reply, Scott’s voice interrupted. “Can you two please cool it for five seconds?” His voice was already tight with irritation, the way it always got around Logan. He adjusted the cuffs of his blazer like a stressed-out principal about to scold unruly students. “We need to focus. This is a mission, not a date.”

“Relax, Boy Scout,” Logan said with a shrug, his tone casual but deliberately antagonistic. “I’m just blending in. Pretty sure flirting counts as recon in a place like this.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t,” Scott shot back, glaring.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand as Logan leaned in closer, his smirk widening. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get paired with you,” Logan murmured.

Jean stepped between them before things could escalate, her presence commanding yet calm. Her red hair shimmered faintly under the neon glow as she raised a hand. “Enough,” she said, her voice low and measured, like a scalpel cutting through the tension.

Scott bristled but backed off, “We split up here. Stick to your assignments. Keep your eyes open and your comms on. Regroup in an hour unless someone finds something first.” His jaw tightened as he turned, but not before reaching for Jean’s hand and storming off with her trailing behind him.

You sighed, the tension lingering in the air long after they disappeared into the crowd. Beside you, Logan exhaled through his nose, clearly amused. He reached for your hand, his calloused fingers rough but steady as he began weaving through the throng of bodies. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Can’t let the Boy Scout hog all the fun.”

The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up into your chest as you let Logan lead the way. The crush of people, the flashing strobe lights, the humid press of bodies—it was all overwhelming, the kind of chaos that seeped under your skin. You tugged at the hem of your dress, wishing for the familiarity of your leather uniform, or at least the comfort of knowing where the real threats were hiding.

“You look uncomfortable,” Logan said, leaning in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His breath was warm, and damn it, the heat of him this close to you made your stomach flip.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice sharper than you intended. The noise and the crush of bodies weren’t the only things making it hard to breathe. It was him—always him. Logan had a way of turning your focus into a tangled mess, and you hated how much he knew it.

He smirked, his free hand settling lightly on your hip as he guided you toward the bar. “Sure you are. Just don’t step on my toes if we have to dance.”

You gave him a pointed look, arching a brow. “Dance? You don’t seem like the dancing type.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Guess you’ll find out, huh?”

Before you could retort, Ororo’s voice crackled through the comm in your ear, sharp and focused. “Heads up. Security’s tightening near the back. Someone might’ve tipped them off.”

The playful ease between you and Logan evaporated in an instant. You straightened, your eyes scanning the room more carefully now. The crowd still swayed to the rhythm of the music, but you spotted shadowy figures moving along the edges of the space. They were coordinated, and precise—not like usual club security. Their sharp, assessing gazes cut through the crowd, searching for something. Or someone.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, stepping closer to Logan without thinking. Your body gravitated toward his instinctively, as though the safest place in the room was next to him.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Logan tilted his head, glancing toward the figures in the distance, his hand briefly brushing your lower back before pulling away. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. He leaned down, lips brushing your temple in a fleeting kiss that sent a jolt through you. “Try not to get us into trouble, gorgeous.”

“Try not to enjoy yourself too much,” you shot back, your words sharper than you meant them to be. He smirked but didn’t respond, disappearing into the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who could move through shadows like he belonged there.

You leaned against the bar, crossing your arms as you let your eyes roam the packed room. Scanning for anyone suspicious was easier said than done with the neon lights flashing and dancers moving like one writhing, chaotic mass. Every other face looked ordinary—until it didn’t. The line between an innocent bystander and a potential enemy blurred in a place like this.

You tried to focus, but your eyes kept drifting, scanning for a familiar silhouette. And then, through the press of bodies on the dance floor, you spotted Logan. Relief flickered through you briefly—until you saw who he was with.

Jean.

Your stomach tightened as you watched them. Jean’s red hair glimmered under the strobes, her figure elegant even amid the chaos. She stood close to Logan—too close. They were facing each other, her head tilted toward him as if they were sharing a private conversation. Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was the commotion in the club that caused it. Not them. Not this.

You knew their history. Everyone did. It wasn’t a secret that Logan had carried a torch for Jean for years. And though he’d insisted—again and again—that it was all in the past, the sight of them together now made your chest tighten with something sharp and bitter.

Then, you noticed him: a man near the edge of the dance floor. His eyes weren’t on the crowd—they were on Logan and Jean. He stood out against the backdrop of revelers, stiff and alert, his gaze predatory. Something about him screamed danger: the way he carried himself, the faint scar cutting across his cheek, the subtle tension in his stance. Recognition flickered in your mind—he looked like one of Magneto’s men, someone you’d seen before.

Your grip on the edge of the bar tightened as realization dawned. Jean must have noticed him, too, because she suddenly stepped closer to Logan, her hand brushing his arm. She said something, her lips moving quickly, urgently. Logan glanced toward the man, then back at Jean. His jaw clenched, but then, he nodded.

To your disbelief, Jean slid her arm around Logan’s waist, leaning into him as though they were nothing more than a couple enjoying the music. Logan didn’t resist. His hand came to rest on her back, pulling her closer, and for one agonizing moment, they looked too real.

Your stomach twisted, and you hated yourself for it. This was a mission. You knew that. It wasn’t personal, and yet it felt like a punch to the gut. The way Logan leaned down, his lips brushing Jean’s ear as he whispered something—it was a performance, you told yourself but that didn’t stop the jealousy curling hot and bitter in your chest.

You forced yourself to look away, your nails digging into your palm as you tried to focus on the mission. The man was still watching them, his expression unreadable, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You couldn’t just stand there, not when the man’s sharp, calculating gaze kept flicking between Logan, Jean, and the crowd as though he was deciding on his next move. Your heart was still twisting from the sight of Logan and Jean pressed so close together, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. The man was dangerous—you could feel it in the way he stood, too poised for someone casually attending a club. He was waiting for something, and you weren’t about to let him make the first move.

Steeling yourself, you pushed off the bar and weaved through the crowd, keeping your movements casual. The bass pounded beneath your feet, the flashing lights making it harder to focus, but you never lost sight of him. He was still near the edge of the dance floor, his hand resting near his hip—too close to where you guessed he was hiding a weapon.

As you approached, you caught his eye. His gaze sharpened immediately, locking you like a predator noticing prey. You gave him a practiced, easy smile, tilting your head as though you’d wandered over for no other reason than to flirt.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light despite the way your pulse thundered in your ears. “You look like you’re not having much fun. Bad night?”

The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes darted past you, likely tracking Logan and Jean over your shoulder. His jaw ticked, his face impassive but rigid, and he shifted his weight, subtly adjusting his stance.

You stepped closer, determined to draw his focus fully onto you. “I know this place can get a little crazy,” you continued, tilting your head and letting your lips curve into a faint smirk. “But I’d hate to think you came all the way here just to sulk in the corner.”

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cold. “I suggest you walk away.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You’d expected deflection, maybe an excuse. Not this. His tone carried a weight of threat, and now you were sure—you’d been right. This guy wasn’t just anyone.

Feigning a laugh, you took another step forward. “Walk away? Come on, now. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

That’s when you saw it: the briefest flicker of movement near his side. His hand darted toward his hip, toward what you were sure was a concealed weapon.

Instinct took over. Before he could draw, you lashed out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. The motion forced him to drop the weapon—a sleek, black blade that clattered to the floor. He reacted instantly, yanking his arm free and shoving you back with surprising force. You stumbled but caught your footing just as he lunged toward you, his movements quick and deliberate.

You managed to dodge his first swing, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. “Guess we’re skipping the small talk,” you muttered under your breath, shifting into a defensive stance.

His second swing came fast, but this time, you were ready. You ducked beneath it, stepping inside his guard and slamming your elbow into his ribs. He grunted, staggering back a step, but the fight wasn’t over yet.

Unfortunately, neither was your luck.

Just as you braced for his next move, a familiar voice rang out behind you—sharp, commanding, and far too loud.

“Get down!”

You barely had time to react before a blast of energy ripped past you, slamming into the man’s chest and sending him flying backward into a table. The wood splintered beneath his weight, the force of the impact leaving no question as to who had intervened.

You turned, your heart sinking as you spotted Scott standing a few feet away, his visor glowing faintly with residual energy. His expression was grim, his shoulders tense as he lowered his hand. The crowd around you froze for a split second before chaos erupted.

Screams filled the room as people scrambled toward the exits and the pulsing music abruptly cut off. Bodies pushed and shoved past you, the panicked crowd turning into a stampede. Strobe lights flickered overhead, casting the room in chaotic bursts of shadow and color.

“What the hell, Scott?” you shouted over the commotion, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Scott was already moving toward you, his face tight with determination. “He was about to kill you,” he snapped, his tone clipped. “You’re welcome.”

“I had it under control,” you shot back, though even you knew that was debatable. Still, it didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

The comm crackled to life in your ear, Ororo’s voice cutting through the noise. “What’s going on? Your cover’s blown—we’re seeing mass panic on the cameras.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, dodging a panicked clubgoer who nearly knocked you over. “Scott just blasted the guy I was questioning. Pretty sure everyone in here knows we’re not here for drinks.”

“Damn it,” Logan’s voice growled through the comm, the irritation unmistakable. “I’m on my way. Keep her safe, Summers.”

The crowd surged again, making it harder to keep your footing. Scott grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him as a group of heavily armed men burst into the room from a side entrance. Their uniforms were black and sleek, their weapons unmistakably high-tech. Magneto’s people, no doubt about it.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Scott barked, shoving you toward the nearest exit.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the dance floor where you’d last seen Logan. Panic gnawed at your chest, but Scott’s grip on your arm tightened, dragging you forward.

“Logan can handle himself,” Scott said sharply. “Our priority is getting out of here alive.”

You gritted your teeth, frustration and fear warring inside you, but you didn’t have time to argue. The mission had gone sideways, and now it was all about survival.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The jet ride back to the mansion was quiet, but the air in the cabin was heavy with unspoken tension, crackling like static electricity. Everyone was accounted for, and alive, but you couldn’t shake the pang of jealousy still twisting like a knife in your chest. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of Jean leaning into Logan on the dance floor flared back to life—her hand on his arm, his hand on her back, the way they moved in sync as if it were second nature.

It didn’t help that Scott was stealing glances at them, too. His jaw clenched and his hands fidgeted, flexing into fists and then relaxing again. For once, you couldn’t blame him. His eyes kept darting between Jean and Logan, flickering with something unspoken. Maybe it was the same ugly mix of emotions brewing inside of you.

You stayed silent the whole ride, simmering in your thoughts, trying and failing to bury the bitterness bubbling in your chest. You told yourself it was nothing. A mission. A cover. That’s all it had been. But you couldn’t ignore the sharp ache of it, the nagging voice in your head whispering that Logan and Jean had been too comfortable with each other. Too natural.

By the time the jet landed and everyone started filing out, you’d had enough. You couldn’t sit in this anymore, couldn’t let the tension keep eating away at you.

Jean was halfway across the room when the words spilled out of you, sharp and cutting before you could stop them.

“You couldn’t have done that to Scott—you know, your boyfriend, Jean?”

Your voice rang out louder than you expected, making everyone pause. Even Logan stopped mid-step, glancing back at you with a frown.

Jean turned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you were all over Logan on the dance floor,” you snapped, stepping toward her. The words felt like a dam breaking, everything you’d been holding back spilling out in an uncontrollable rush. “You said you were just telling him to ‘watch out’? Really? Because it looked a hell of a lot more like you were trying to grind on him!”

Jean blinked, her expression flashing from confusion to shock and then to something more defensive. “Excuse me? I was warning him about the guy watching us. It was part of the cover. I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Weren’t leaning into him like you’ve done a hundred times before? Weren’t touching him like you used to when you thought no one was looking?”

Jean’s face fell, and you could see the hurt flash in her eyes, but your frustration burned too hot for you to stop now.

Logan’s voice cut through the rising tension like a knife, low and rough. “That’s enough.”

You turned to face him, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Is it?” you shot back, your chest tightening as you met his gaze. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Logan’s hazel eyes stayed steady, but there was a flicker of something softer and patient, even as his jaw tightened. “Yeah, it is,” he said evenly, stepping closer to you, his voice dropping low so only you could hear. “We’re not doin’ this here.”

You wanted to argue, to push back, but the weight of his hand on your arm stilled you. His touch was steady and grounding, and despite the fire still burning in your chest, you let him guide you out of the room, leaving the others behind.

He didn’t stop until you were outside in the cool night air, the mansion looming behind you like a silent witness. The faint chirping of crickets filled the space between you, but it did little to ease the knot in your chest.

Logan finally turned to face you, his expression calm but resolute. “Alright,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s get this out now.”

You crossed your arms, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “What do you want me to say, Logan? That it didn’t bother me? That seeing you and Jean like that didn’t make me feel like—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Like I didn’t matter?”

His brow furrowed, and he took a step closer. “Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “It was just a cover. You know that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, your voice quieter now but no less pointed. “Because it didn’t look like it.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked almost... unsure. Vulnerable, even. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing on him, and it made you hesitate.

“You really think I’d do that to you?” he asked, his tone quieter now, almost disbelieving. “After everything?”

You dropped your gaze, the anger in your chest cooling just enough for guilt to creep in around the edges. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... her. You and her. You have a history, Logan.”

He let out a breath, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of space between you. His hand brushed against your arm, his touch gentle but insistent, as he needed you to understand. “Yeah, we got history,” he said, his voice steady, “but that’s all it is—history. What we had, it’s done. Been done. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be with.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to hold onto the jealousy still simmering inside you. “Then why did it look so... easy for you two?”

“Because I know how to act,” Logan replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Figured I had to sell it, right? Thought that was the job.” He tilted his head, his smirk fading into something softer. “But don’t get it twisted. That’s all it was—an act. You’re the real deal.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the knot in your chest loosening little by little. The way he looked at you—steady, unwavering—left no room for doubt. You hated how easily he could disarm you, but at this moment, you were grateful for it.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your arms uncrossing as you leaned into him. “You’re lucky you’re good with words,” you muttered, your voice softer now, teasing.

Logan chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Not words, sweetheart. Just the truth.”

And for the first time that night, the tension in your chest eased completely.

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #marvel #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #x men movies #x men comics #jean grey #scott summers #logan x reader #logan x fem you #logan x fem!reader

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sinsandsweetness · 1 year ago

Note

I’m thinking of any of the boys, how would they react to being teased with? And I don’t mean oh that’s cute- I mean hardcore teasing. I’m thinking wearing cute outfits or saying things in the vicinity of the boys, where they can’t do anything about it. I might have asked this before so if I did, oops. but I’m never without a backup! I love the scene Aaron meets Rick and Michonne, them jumping out of bed. But what if it was the reader and Rick or the reader with Daryl or Rickyl or….? “tell your mom and dad…”

“huh?” Carl rolls his eyes at who it is and calls them gross and lame. Lol (idk; that’s what my teen would have done)

Hehe ok I’m using this as a little bonus blurb for poison… I promise part 4 is coming soon but here’s something to tie us all off in the meantime <3

“You gotta tell her to cut it out. I can’t believe I’m bricked up at a children's birthday party, right now.” Shane slumps down next to Rick. Visibly irritated, grabbing the throw pillow from beside him, and placing it in his lap to conceal the tent in his blue jeans.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Rick asks.

They both look over at you from their spot on the deck. Watching you throw neon rings into the water from the side of the pool. Entertaining the half a dozen 10 year olds whose parents are all too busy getting drunk in your parents house, to look after their own children.

“You’re the only one she actually listens to.”

Rick just shakes his head with a little huff, “She’s a fuckin’ brat. Doesn’t listen to anyone.”

You know they're watching you. They have been all day. From the second you asked Rick to help tighten the strings of your bikini top, you had them in a damn trance. Unable to control their constant wandering gaze.

“What kinda swimsuit is that? Barely even covers her nipples.” Shane whines.

“She’s doin’ it on purpose. Tryna get a reaction out of you. And it’s workin’, so just… quit starin’. She’ll give it up soon enough.”

“I need her to put a shirt on before I cream my frickin’ jeans, Ricky. Go on and tell her that.”

“Tell her what?” Daryl interjects the conversation with gifts from the garage. He hands the two men a beer, plopping down on the love seat across them.

“Tell her to quit teasin us’. It ain’t funny and she ain’t bein’ very subtle about it either.” Shane nods over at you. Unfortunately for him, you catch his stare and wave back at him. A sweet, innocent little wave that sends butterflies swarming around in his gut.

“Shit.” Shane shifts his gaze to the floor.

“What?”

“Made eye contact. She’s coming over.”

They all share a look before you reach the couch. Dripping wet and wringing out your hair with a towel.

“Hey,” You plop down next to Daryl, the only open seat available.

“You’re soaking.” He complains, moving further into the armrest.

“What? You afraid of a little water?” You tease, over aware of the clenched jaws staring you down from the couch.

He lets out a little grunt, sipping his beer to distract himself from your practically naked legs, brushing up against his jeans.

“Shoot, I think I’m starting to burn,” you act all concerned, looking down at your decolletage and running delicate fingers over your sun kissed skin, “think one of you could reapply for me?” You ask, reaching for the coffee table where your sunscreen so conveniently happens to be sitting right in front of the three men.

You see Shane’s fist tighten around the beer as he struggles to avoid your gaze.

“Shane?” You ask, knowing he’s always the first to break for you.

“Me..?” he looks over at Rick and sighs, tipping his head back. Asking god why the hell he was testing him so hard today.

Rick lets out an involuntary groan at his friend’s attitude.

“Alright, get over here.” He waves you over, snatching the bottle from your hands.

You stifle your laugh by biting your lip. Practically crawling over Daryl to reach Rick’s lap. Sitting down, bikini bottoms dampening his denim clad thigh, though he doesn’t complain. He just takes the sunscreen and squeezes a generous amount on his hands. Handing you the bottle back and rubbing the cream together before starting on your shoulders.

You sigh at his touch, leaning your head to the side and pulling your hair out of the way to give him better access to your back.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is low in your ear. Lips dangerously close to your neck. “Ain’t foolin anybody. Acting like a damn brat. Teasin’ us right in front of your daddy…” he chuckles. His breath sends goosebumps down your spine as his hands rub the muscles on your back.

“I- don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you play dumb. Lids fluttering closed at the wonderful sensation of Rick's fingers working at the knots between your shoulder blades. Gliding back and forth and then slipping down to your lower back. Where his touch starts feeling less like a massage and more like a tickle. Threatening to send a shiver through your body.

“Sure you do,” he slides his hands down to your hips, grabbing on to you and pulling you even further into his lap, the sudden movement makes your breath hitch in your throat. “You know exactly what you’re doin’. Know exactly what game you’re trying to play. Guess you didn't realize that we might know how to play too, hm?” He uses his grip on your hips to grind you down on his lap, and the huge bulge that’s making the front of his jeans so tight.

Your eyes go wide at his boldness. Knowing that any of your fathers friends could see from their various spots all over the yard. Hell your father could see if he just turned away from his conversation with Deanna. Fortunate for you, they’re all too focused on their own conversations to pay attention to the borderline filth happening on the patio furniture.

“I- I wasn't-“

“See boys? She sure loves to dish it out but the second you start dishin’ it back,” he huffs a laugh before continuing, “she turns into a needy, little mess.”

pick your poison taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @imyourbratzdoll @olive3oil @taylormarieee @spidermonkey2423 @fanngirl19

#pick your poison #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #Rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #shane walsh smut #shane walsh #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #bonus blurb

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caffedrine · 2 months ago

Text

Gilbert von Obsidian - The Boundary of Touch - Event Summary

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with Gilbert.

The conference room in the Obsidian Castle always has a solemn, heavy atmosphere, even though Gilbert is in a relatively good mood today. He has brought Emma to this meeting where Gilbert’s advisors discuss reforms for the country. Seeing everyone else in perfect military uniform and formation, Emma can’t help but straighten her own posture.

Gilbert complains that they only bring him problems and no solutions, and he has no use for people who can’t think for themselves. Overall, though, he is pleased with their ideas and ends the meeting. Afterward, he asks Emma for her impressions, and she thanks him for allowing her to attend. Despite what he said earlier, Emma noticed that the personnel had presented many solutions, and if unforeseen circumstances need them to change course, she thinks they presented useful backup plans that wouldn’t be difficult to implement.

Well, if Emma thinks they’re useful, Gilbert doesn’t see the need to ‘fire’ his advisors. Emma frowns, in Obsidian, this is technically a threat. Gilbert laughs at her expression and tells her that he was just kidding, and he agrees with her that the advisors are improving. A little bit. With a smile, he intertwines his fingers with hers.

Oh, this brings back memories of last night, and Emma’s heart skips a beat. And just after the solemn and formal atmosphere of the conference! Emma feels guilty even as she squeezes Gilbert’s hand.

Gilbert laughs, she’s feeling a bit clingy today. Emma flushes, just as a door opens behind her and she hears footsteps. She can feel a gaze on her and turns to look, but no one is looking at her. Maybe it was her imagination?

Later, when Emma passes Gilbert in the hallway, she catches the reflected gaze of a soldier from the window. Maybe it wasn’t her imagination, but what was with that look?

While Emma puzzles it, Gilbert asks what she’s thinking of.

Could it be that she’s getting too impersonal with Gilbert? Open affection goes against military training, the soldiers must disapprove of her constantly touching Gilbert.

Oh no, she has been very frivolous with him. No, she needs to improve herself and become more composed and more formal with Gilbert.

Emma assures Gilbert that it is nothing, she was distracted by a bird flying outside the window. Gilbert smiles faintly and doesn’t press it.

Later that night, Emma is sitting next to Gilbert on his bed as he gently plays with her hair. He warns her that she needs to get better at lying, while that pivot earlier was well done, her expression right now is ruining it. That poor bird outside the window would be so sad.

Oh, he noticed. Well, of course, he did.

And on that note, Emma can imagine what his reaction would be if she told him truthfully that she thinks people disapprove of how much she clings to him.

Gilbert only smiles at her and asks if she won’t say it. Of course, if she does, he will kill everyone in the castle. He’ll erase everyone, just for her.

(Hahaha, he’s not joking)

Fine, she’ll explain herself. Emma explains that while she does feel people looking at her, she’s not embarrassed at being seen. It’s more that she’s embarrassed over her own shortcomings. She wants to touch him, but when she does, she feels her emotions get carried away. She doesn’t want to damage the dignified atmosphere he’s cultivated.

Oh, is that it? Gilbert doesn’t mind, he’s only like this with her. But if she wants to refrain from touching him in public, what can he do? Okay, tell him her limits and he’ll follow her lead.

Oh, uh, Emma was expecting more pushback about this. Gilbert shrugs glibly, he doesn’t mind testing this whim of hers. He also wants to see how far he can forgive her.

Err, right. Well, might as well strike while the fire’s hot. Emma asks if they can start tomorrow, and Gilbert agrees. He smiles sweetly and contently, but Emma can’t help but think that he has something nefarious planned.

The next day has Emma delivering documents to Gilbert. He greets her with his usual smile, their fingers brushing as he accepts the documents from her.

Is this okay?

At Emma’s confusion, Gilbert clarifies: is this type of touch acceptable within Emma’s limits? Demonstratively, Gilbert’s index finger slides along the tips of Emma’s fingers.

Uh, yeah. It’s fine.

Okay, what about this?

Gilbert’s fingers brush against the palm of Emma’s hand, and her heart starts hammering at the tingling feeling. Okay, does Gilbert understand they’re still in public?

Gilbert laughs, Emma is very serious about this. Emma asks if this bothers him at all, but he denies it. After all, he’s just touching her hand.

Staring intently at Emma, Gilbert pulls the documents away from her hand, his fingers trailing from her wrist to her fingertips.

What is off-limits? Gilbert invites Emma to touch him in a way that they can’t in public. He points out that they’re in his private office, so she can touch him however she wants.

And now Emma feels like they’re doing something naughty, trying not to get caught. Gently, Emma reaches out to touch Gilbert’s face.

Oh, so this is off limits too? Does Emma realize that Walter often touches Gilbert’s face during his checkups? Well, great news for Gilbert then! He’ll just have to tell Walter that touching his face is off-limits now!

Oh no! Walter is touching Gilbert for a medical procedure, so it doesn’t count.

Gilbert disagrees, if touching his face is too inappropriate for public, then the intent doesn’t matter, the act is still off-limits.

Gilbert grasps Emma’s hand and brings it up towards his eyepatch. Emma tries to snatch her hand back, but Gilbert’s grip is too strong. First one, then a second finger disappears beneath his eye-patch.

Gilbert explains that for him, this means nothing; it’s just touching his eyepatch. But, from Emma’s expression, it’s different for her. As Gilbert uses her fingers to lift his eyepatch, Emma’s heart nearly hammers out of her chest. She whines that this is far from okay.

Oh, what a shame.

Gilbert lets go of Emma’s hand and muses that grabbing her hand probably wasn’t okay for public either. Though they are alone, they are outside of their bedroom. He asks for her forgiveness. Emma assures him that he’s fine, it’s up to her to restrain herself.

Gilbert asks if Emma has figured out her thresholds yet. Can they still hold hands? He’d be so lonely if they couldn’t.

Emma decides that she’ll limit it to saying that touching faces is off-limits. Gilbert nods, he’ll let Walter know as well.

Nope! Gilbert isn’t getting out of his medically necessary exams that easily-

The sound of footsteps approaching stops Emma, and she apologizes for interrupting Gilbert, and hurries away. As she leaves his office, she sees Roderic approaching, and despite not being able to see his face, can almost feel his gaze boring into her.

Before long, she runs into Gilbert in the hallway. He reaches up to her cheek as if to pet her before stopping himself. Oops, he almost forgot! But if it’s what she want’s, he’ll comply.

Huh, usually Gilbert is a lot more pushy when he wants something. Is this some kind of trap?

Gilbert suddenly grabs Emma’s hand and brings it up to his neck. Politely, he asks why she looks so surprised, they said faces were off limits earlier, but not this.

Emma stutters as she feels Gilbert’s pulse beneath her fingers.

Ooh, Emma looks like she thinks this should be forbidden too. Well then.

Gilbert draws her hand down pressing it against his chest. He teases her, she must be very naughty if she is getting excited just by this.

But Gilbert does understand why she’s like this. Feeling his heartbeat is an intimate experience, touching something that no one else can touch. But, since she didn’t say this was off limits earlier, this must be an acceptable public display of affection.

Gilbert leans forward, and Emma can feel his breath on her face.

Oh no, Gilbert is in trouble. Now he can barely restrain himself. He asks Emma to figure out her limits by tonight, while he’s still feeling generous toward her.

And then Gilbert is gone.

Later, in her room, Emma considers Gilbert’s words as they permeate her brain like poison. What does she want?

She said that she doesn’t want to bother Gilbert’s solemn aura, but the main reason, if someone were to see her touching Gilbert . . .

Okay, restrictions on touching Gilbert wasn’t the issue. Instead, she needs to change her way of thinking. She remembers the conversation they had about how Walter could touch Gilbert all he wanted for medical reasons.

Eventually Gilbert visits Emma and sits on her bed next to her. He asks if she’s come up with her limits and Emma agrees.

Emma will touch him, but only for medical reasons.

Uh, medical reasons?

Right, like touching his arm to check his pulse, or his face to take his temperature. It’s all fine if it’s for health reasons!

After looking surprised, Gilbert bursts out in laughter. Emma really did think things through. This isn’t because she’s embarrassed at being seen, it’s that she’s developing dark, evil feelings that she is doing her best to avoid.

If he were to name those new feelings, he would imagine ‘possessiveness’ is the first one. She wants to touch him, to make it known that Gilbert is ‘her man’. But, she’s also very kind with the ‘pure heart’ so she cant bring herself to acknowledge those feelings. Hence, why she’s decided to avoid touching him in public.

Emma hangs her head in remorse, but there was one thing Gilbert missed. She didn’t want to show off that Gilbert was hers, but that she loved him most in the world.

Gilbert looks pleased. His poison is spreading through Emma, and the thought of her joining in his depravity sends shivers of joy down his spine. Will Emma ever forgive him?

No, Emma won’t blame Gilbert for this one. Besides, he hasn’t done anything evil to her recently.

Well, in that case, Gilbert will take the win. He grabs Emma’s hand and places it on his throat again, just like earlier.

Since it’s for medical reasons, there’s no reason to feel bad about it. She can medically feel him up all day in front of anyone and everyone.

Suddenly Gilbert’s mouth is on hers, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. Pulling back, he apologizes but he’s no longer feeling generous. Emma asks if by generous he means ‘listening to her selfishness’ but Gilbert denies this. No matter what, he will always listen to her.

No, seeing her struggle with dark emotions has Gilbert at his limit and he will no longer hold back. But he has no doubt that she’ll forgive him this gaffe, after all, she loves him the most. Before Emma can respond, Gilbert’s mouth is on hers again.

As the kiss deepens, Emma feels herself melting into Gilbert. The sensation of his heartbeat pulses through her, like a sweet poison.

Gilbert’s mouth is at her ear, at her neck, and then his teeth sink into her shoulder. The sharp pain makes her shift uncontrollably with want.

Gilbert murmurs that when people are forbidden something, it suddenly becomes more attractive. He shifts Emma’s hand from his neck to his face, noting that when she said that this was off-limits, it suddenly became exciting.

Emma gasps that this is all just a medical procedure. Gilbert laughs, Emma doesn’t look like she’s performing a routine medical examination.

Suddenly Gilbert is over her, pinning the hand that was on his face to the bed. Emma feels his tongue trace down her throat only to feel a small sharp pain at the base. Gilbert apologizes for hurting her but warns her that he won’t stop. If he’s going to indulge her selfishness, he expects her to indulge him.

Suddenly Emam is lifted to sit in Gilbert’s lap with her back against his chest. Again, his teeth sink into her shoulder blade as his fingers reach down under her skirt to stir inside her.

Oh no, is Gilbert making her think about others watching her again? He removes his fingers and caresses her back. If she’s worried about being seen feeling her feelings, why not lock herself up in her room?

Gilbert congratulates himself for coming up with the best ideas.

Fine, Emma will admit that she has been feeling possessive over him. She didn’t want to direct her selfish feelings to him, but she had to acknowledge something else. She’s the finance of a villain, and to love him, she must be an evil woman. So, instead of resisting, she will accept these selfish feelings of hers and show everyone how much she loves him.

Well then, it sounds like Gilbert’s solution of locking herself away or erasing everyone in the castle won’t work out. It’s only when she can bring herself to show off how she feels in front of others that she can become as evil as Gilbert.

Gilbert laughs, it looks like the face Emma is currently making isn’t something he’s willing to let anyone else see.

Emma feels Gilbert’s hands on her as the sensations drown out her thoughts and she loses track of what is good and what is evil.

The next morning, Gilbert is already gone by the time Emma wakes up. She easily changes into the black dress Gilbert made for her and ignores the small pains as she leaves the room.

Only to find Gilbert waiting for her just outside her door. He extends his wrist and asks her to medically check his pulse. Emma gives him a look before accepting his hand and touching his wrist.

Ooh, is it medically necessary to touch his hand so lovingly?

Well, yes it is.

Gilbert smoothly withdraws his hand and pulls something out from under his cloak. He holds up a black scarf, a present for becoming so evil. He drapes it over her shoulders, explaining that now she doesn’t have to worry about being seen.

Gilbert drops a kiss on Emma’s head, assuring her that it was just a medical procedure. Recent studies in mental health suggest that acts contributing to one’s emotional stability count as medical procedures.

Okay, and knowing Gilbert, that means that anything and everything is fair game.

So what if it is? Besides, this gives Emma the excuse she wants to show everyone that she loves Gilbert the most without being seen.

. . . what?

Suddenly suspicious, Emma lifts up the edge of the scarf and looks at herself, for the first time in forever. She looks at the bite marks that the dress doesn’t cover.

Ohh.

Emma thinks back to all the gazes on her and realizes that she had misread them. They weren’t judging her for clinging on to Gilbert. They were feeling pity for her after seeing all the bite marks he left behind.

And Gilbert knew the whole time.

(hehe)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #gilbert von obsidian

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