#and i get to just point and shout and say I STILL ENJOY THIS!

[justkending]

It's just a papercut... (Drabble)

Summary: Mission one-on-one with Bucky? It's been done before. So why is this one different? Why is he acting weird and not letting me storm off in a rage at his cold shoulder? Also, was the one bed necessary?

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 7000+ (It's a long one...)

A/N: I've been spending a lot of my time on Character ChatGPT AI, and a secret agent conversation made me say, " Yeah, I need to put this into a Bucky fanfic." So here we are🥰 Did it turn a lot more emotional than I planned? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Enjoy, my loves!!

_____

“Jesus! The goal is to survive the mission, and from the likes of it, bullets aren’t even going to be the thing that finishes the job!” I shout over the whipping wind as Bucky maneuvers through cars in the foreign country while outrunning the guards we just escaped from on a motorcycle he stole in front of a shop.

“Shut it!” he shouts back, taking another sharp turn that has me clutching on as if one wrong blow of the wind will have me ending this chase with a case of road rash on my entire body. “I’m losing them.” 

“And likely me with them,” I grumble, and he shoots me a quick look in the rearview mirror, showing that he heard my remark and didn’t care for it. 

I look behind us and see one of the jackasses we were running from has joined us in motorcycle theft, and I curse under my breath as I come up with a plan.

“Goon, five o’clock!” I announce as I dig into my boot for a small handgun I keep hidden. 

Bucky looks around and clocks him. His teeth grit together as he kicks the speed up, weaves through a few cars, and turns down a new street, but the man following seems to be just as skilled in bike chases. 

“Still on you!” I shout and let out an annoyed groan, realizing that at some point in our mission, I’d lost my backup weapon. 

“I see that!” Bucky groans, and as we pass a fruit stand on the street, he knocks it over with his metal hand, causing a traffic stop and the motorcyclist to have to drive over apples and pears, making him to lose his balance some. 

However, it wasn’t effective enough. “I got it,” I sigh as Bucky takes another sharp turn, and I clutch onto him. “Do me a favor and try and stay straight for 5 seconds!” I complain, and he complies, although begrudgingly. 

I point my fist towards the bike, and as the man makes mean eyes at me, I wiggle my fingers at him with a grin before shooting a taser shock out of the widow bite Nat gifted me. 

They shoot across and cause his entire bike to seize at the overload of electricity. He flies off the bike as it stutters and gives Bucky and me a clean escape down an alley. 

A few alleys later and a quiet spot away from the chaos that had just ensued, Bucky and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a dumpster. I catch my breath as I throw my backpack over my shoulder and watch as he covers the bike more with the lid of the trash before grabbing his own pack. 

“We need to lay low for the night,” I note, adjusting my backpack and looking into the dead-end alley. 

He sighed, taking in the area, and I could see the pistons firing in his head. “There’s a hotel not far from here that’ll work. Not shitty, but also not anything fancy.” He immediately starts stalking away, not waiting for me to follow. 

I huff in annoyance as he leaves me, and I fasten my backpack, buckling it across my chest before jogging to catch up with his long strides. 

We don’t say much as we get to the hotel. Both of our minds coming down from the adrenaline and running through the last pieces of the mission.

While in the lobby of the hotel, I get a call and move to take it, seeing it’s Steve checking in, and I leave Bucky to handle the check-in process. 

“Got it. We’ll head to the airport in the morning,” I nod and turn around to see Bucky confirming something with the clerk, and I turn back to the phone. 

When he finishes checking in (fake IDs with real payment thanks to Stark’s ways), he turns and waves his hand toward the elevator in a quick action. 

“Yeah. We’re fine,” I note, feeling a stitch in my side but not wanting to check just how bad the damage is until I’m behind a closed door. “He’s being a dick as per usual,” I chuckle lightly as I start my walk to the elevators. “No, Steve. I don’t need you to call him and reprimand him. You know-... Seriously, Steve. Leave it… I said it as a joke more than anything-” He cuts me off again, ready to always put Bucky in his place with the cold shoulder he seems to love to give to only me. 

When I make it to the elevator, where Bucky is holding the door impatiently for me, I quickly say, “Losing you! Getting in an elevator so I can’t-” There’s a protest on the other end. “What was that? It’s cutting out.” I say in stuttered beats to play it off before hanging up. “Steve says hi,” I say to Bucky as I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket. 

“Sure,” he says back, and I’m not sure if it’s unconvinced or unbothered… or both. Either way, his face is still stoic.

“You really need to lighten up,” I sigh in a deep breath, annoyed that he never relents his tough guy act around me. 

“Don’t feel like.” 

“Do you ever?” 

The elevator is silent. The only sound is the mechanics of the metal box moving up. It eventually dings, and as I go to step forward, I grimace slightly so as I step wrong, causing pain to go up my side, but I quickly brush it off. 

“What was that?” Bucky says behind me as he steps off the elevator last. 

“What was what?” I ask, looking carefully at the room numbers and acting ignorant. 

“That look. You flinched.” 

“Yeah, no,” I shake my head. “Your eyesight must be getting worse with age.” 

“My eyesight is fine,” he grumbles, pulling my arm back as I pass the room, realizing he never told me the number. “We’re here,” he turns to the door and presses the key card to it. The color changes from red to green, giving us access. 

“I call the shower first,” I shout, shoving him out of the way and unbuckling my backpack as I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

All I hear is an exasperated sigh on the other side and a shuffle of footsteps as he shuts the door, locks up, and moves into the room. 

I let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief to be done for the day and turned the water on to warm up. If there is one thing I’ve learned about going on missions with Bucky, it’s that the man’s superhearing is just an excuse for him to be nosy. He listens to almost EVERYTHING. 

So, with the water running and him hopefully distracted by the hotel views, I undress and focus on the shower. As soon as I took my shirt off, I was shown exactly what I worried was the problem. 

Down my side is a semi-jagged cut going up my rib cage. Close to four inches long, if not less, but angry and red. I hiss and quickly bite my lip so as not to make another sound. It’s not bleeding anymore, which tells me it’s not deep, so with the proper cleaning and care, it’ll be fine in a few days. I use my time in the shower to clean it and wash the rest of the day away with it. 

When I come out, I rummage through my bag for a first aid kit. I usually pack a travel-size one given the job, but I can’t find it in my pack. I change into a pair of clean shorts and a tank top I packed (light and takes up minimal space) before checking in the mirror to make sure my cut wasn’t prominent through the light-colored tank. When I feel comfortable enough that Bucky won’t ask questions, I straighten and fight the soreness that’s taking over my body now that I’m not going 100mph. 

I walk out, and when I see that Bucky is lying back, arms over his eyes on a king-size bed, I immediately take in the fact that it’s the only bed in the room.

“Um,” I start, hands out as I assess the space. “What’s this?” I ask. 

“A bed,” Bucky answers simply and sits up tiredly as he looks at me, leaning back on his forearms. “You ran straight into the bathroom before I could tell you, or you saw for yourself.” 

I cross my arms and flinch again when I graze my cut, but I roll my shoulders as if the full-body soreness was the only issue. 

“Well, did we not have another option or-” 

“What was that?” he cuts me off. 

“What was what?” I look right at him and furrow my eyebrows. 

“You made that face again.” 

I roll my eyes. “I’m sore,” I shrug, scoffing and even I know I’m a horrible actress right now, so I don’t make eye contact. 

“That’s not a sore grimace. That’s something else,” he sits up straight now and tilts his head down, assessing me. 

“Stop that.” My arms tightening around me under his gaze only makes a smirk appear. “Stop. It’s weird.” 

“No, what’s weird is why you’re being so weird,” he remarks with a face. 

“Good one,” I sass, turning and going to his backpack now. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” He stands quickly from the bed and looks at me over my shoulder as I unzip his bag. 

“I think I put something of mine in here. I can’t find it in my bag,” I note, dunking my hand into his things. He steps up, pulling my shoulders to get away. 

“Stop going through my stuff. You’re worse than Sam,” he notes, tugging me away, although gentler than how he is typically. 

“I just need-” I feel the small plastic box I’m looking for and tug it out, quickly holding it behind my back. “Nevermind. I found it.” 

“What are you talking about-” 

“Nothing! Just give me one minute. I need to brush my teeth,” I jab a thumb behind my shoulder as I walk backward to the bathroom, his steps matching mine. “I’ll be out in five minutes,” I note quickly as I turn on my heel and run back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it again. 

Instead of seeing the door handle budge like I expected, he bangs a fist on the wooden barrier. 

“Y/N, open the damn door! What the hell did you take out of my bag?”

“My toothbrush!” I lie. “I must have gotten our bags mixed up when I packed them. 

“How could you do that? Yours is brown, and mine’s black,” he notes. 

“A very dark brown,” I note, lifting my tank top and sitting on the bathroom counter to get a better look in the mirror of my cut. “Just give me a second-” 

“You’re being weirder than normal,” he groans in frustration on the other side. 

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” I hiss as I put the sanitizer spray on it and bite my knuckle to suppress the pained groan I want to let out. “Jesus,” I mumble under my breath, but the next thing I know, the door is swinging open, and Bucky’s staring at its handle in confusion before back at me. “Hey!” I look at the door and back at him. “They’re going to charge us for that.” 

His eyes immediately go from annoyed and over it to concerned and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” He points at my stomach, where I’m frozen on top of the counter, shirt lifted, showing my entire torso and cut on full display. 

“A paper cut,” I say after a moment of trying to come up with an excuse. Why a paper, out of all things, left my brain, I don’t know. But it did, and here we are. 

His concerned face drops some, and he deadpans from my injury to me before marching to me and turning me at my shoulders to face him and get a better view. 

“When did this happen?”

“Wild guess, but likely when the guards we fought to get out pulled a knife on me and played dirty,” I sigh, realizing I wasn’t talking myself out of this one anytime soon. “But that could be a stretch,” I add.

He again looks up at me from my injury with an incredulous and agitated look. 

“Let me see,” he sighs, bending down to get a better look and looking at the injury from a head-on angle. 

“It’s just a scratch, Barnes. I’ll be good as new after a little disinfectant and ointment. Nothing a bandaid can’t fix,” I brush off, turning on the counter to grab the kit. 

He stops me in my turn by placing a hand on my knee and turning me back around to where my legs hang off the counter. I’m sitting with him in between my legs. 

“They used a serrated knife,” he notes, taking the first aid kit out of my hand and opening it, instantly getting to work as if I wasn’t doing it myself two seconds ago. 

“Um, excuse me, but I can-” 

“I know the things you can do, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me,” he says sternly, grabbing gauze and another bottle of something I didn’t know the contents of and tipping it onto the gauze before bending down again. This time, his eyes found mine as he looked up at me from his now crouched position. “This is going to sting. That sanitizer you were using before is shit. This one actually does the job,” he notes, and I’m a little stunned by the turn of events. “Ready?” 

Never in my life did I think Bucky Barnes would be this gentle and considerate with me, but I’m not going to stop a good thing from happening. 

“I don’t think it can hurt more than the knife itself,” I smirk and nod when he gives me a look. “Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, Doc.” I gesture to him, looking up at the ceiling as I prepare for the sting. 

I don’t feel it instantly, and just as I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, the cool liquid hits my cut, and I hiss, grabbing his wrist in a tight hold out of instinct as I hold him back. “Jesus H. Christ,” I grit through my teeth. “What the hell kind of acid did you just put in-?” 

“It’s Banner-strength disinfectant,” he cuts me off, gently dabbing the cut even as I hold his wrist. His touch is soft, but the sting is anything but. “You grabbed my first aid kit. I had him make it since you tend to get hurt easily, and we’re not in the cleanest country.” He’s fully concentrated on my cut. 

“What?” I asked, surprised, grabbing the kit's container and seeing that it indeed was not mine. I brush over the fact he had Bruce make it and packed it specifically for me as I look over at my bag, still slumped against the wall from my rush to take a shower, and realize I must have accidentally unpacked my own. 

“Relax. Tensing doesn’t help,” he adds, bringing his free hand to my thigh and giving a light squeeze to distract me. I hiss again as he pads over an agitated area. His face drops some, and he gives me a look. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me about this as soon as you knew? This was not far from being infected in a way that could have been a lot worse than just an irritating sting.” 

“When was I supposed to tell you?” I sass, throwing my head back on the mirror as I focus on anything but the pain in my side. “As soon as we got off the bike, we headed here. You didn’t say a word to me, and I was in my own head. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was there until we were checking in and I was on the phone with Steve. Adrenaline must have kept me from realizing it.” 

He mumbles something under his breath, and I hear the word, reckless in the middle of it. 

“Watch yourself,” I warn, kicking my leg a touch, skimming his rib cage. “There can easily be two injured people in this room.” 

“No need for both of us to get stupid injuries,” he grumbles. 

I scoff and shove his hand away from me, jumping off the counter as he stands and glares at me. 

“Sorry for getting stabbed,” I sneer up at him, stepping into his space. “I’ll make sure to ask the bad guys next time to keep the knives at home. Oh! Or better yet,” I exaggerate. “I’ll tell them my partner said I’m not allowed to get into fights with men triple my size, so if they can just play gentle so I don’t end up with any battle scars, that would be greatly appreciated.” I smile wide and fake before dropping it and brushing by him to the bedroom. 

I catch the tail end of his eyes rolling before I hear him stomping behind me. 

“I need to finish patching you up. If it’s not done properly, you can get sick.” He comes up behind me, but I stop abruptly, and he runs into my back before holding my shoulders to steady himself. I turn to him, not breaking the space. 

“I know how injuries work, Barnes. This isn’t my first time in the field, although I’m sure you believe otherwise,” I scoff in anger. “Just,” I put my hands up, stepping away in frustration and groaning. “I’m going to get some air,” I try and push past him to leave, but his hand wraps around my arm and holds me shoulder to shoulder by his side before I can get my feet past him. 

“No. You’re going to let me finish patching you up. Now…” he stares at me with his Sergeant's eyes. “Sit. Down.” I struggle to fight my stubborn retort, but he sees it brewing and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

I groan in protest loudly and pull my arm out of my grip before moving to the edge of the bed and sulkingly wait for him to finish his job- that I didn’t ask him to do, by the way!

“Good girl,” he mutters with a smartass smirk, and I take a breath in to yell something at him, but he goes back to the bathroom to grab the kit we left behind. 

“Cyborg headed-ass, caveman, son of a bit-” I mumble, and he comes back in, shooting me a look that says, ‘really?’. “Oh, sorry, did you hear that?” I say with fake regret. 

He rolls his eyes and crouches again by my knees to get a better angle at the cut, and I lean back, my hands flat against the comforter as he works quietly, and I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on my stomach when he’s been nothing but cold to me. 

As he’s patting the tape over the piece of gauze he fashioned over my cut, I look at him calculatingly. He notices my gaze on him and awkwardly starts putting his things up, sneaking glances at my stare here and there. 

“What?” he finally asks. “Stop staring at me.” 

Instead of an answer, I just stare harder and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side as I analyze him deeper. 

“Cut it out,” he growls, standing and moving to put the kit on the counter. “You’re creeping me out.” 

I let out a single laugh and shook my head before lowering my tank top and looking out the window. “You’re so fucking confusing,” I state, standing as I straighten my clothes. 

“I’m confusing?” he asked rhetorically. “You’re fucking confusing.” 

“Come up with your own lines,” I throw an exasperated hand out, waving him off. “I’m getting air.” 

I don’t know what provokes him, but he steps in front of me, his towering figure shadowing over me. 

“No,” he says, looking at me sternly. 

“I don’t remember asking,” I sidestep him and move to the door. I manage to open it maybe a foot before it’s slammed in my face, and I feel Bucky’s chest pressed to my back. I look up, and his hand is splayed flat on the door. 

“I said no,” he says lowly. His voice is just over my shoulder, and I hold back the shiver that threatens to take over my body. 

“And I said, fuck off,” I say just as lowly, looking up at him, tilting my head back. “Move.” 

“We need to talk.” 

“And I need to put a good three blocks of this city between us so I don’t add another person to the stabbed today club. I’d rather stay on Steve’s good side.” I jut my arm back to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodges it with a smirk. 

“Real mature,” he sasses, and I can see a touch of playfulness in his features, and that makes me even more furious. 

“You’re one to fucking talk!” I turn and shove him in the chest, and he relents, putting his hands up in the air as I shove repeatedly in vexation. Each shove and each curse I send his way has him taking one slight step back with a grin. “Stop smiling!” I grunt as I push him harder, and he laughs. He fucking laughs!

My eye twitches, and my hits become more forceful. Nothing close to what I’m capable of, but I’m not looking for a full-on brawl. I just want to smack him enough to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. 

“Y/N,” he says calmly in between hits to his rock-solid chest. A chest, I’m sure, will give me bruises if I keep this up. 

“No! You don’t get to talk!” I point at him after shoving him one more time and successfully making him falter a few steps back at the power behind it. “I’m walking out of this room to get some air, and you’re going to stay right fucking there. Right there!” I point to the floor under his feet. “And not keep me from leaving this God damn suffocating room. Got it?” 

I know my eyes are wild, and I know the emotions I’m feeling are written clear as day on my face because his sly smirk falters, and he takes a deep breath in, hands still up in surrender. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters out as his gaze falls to his feet. 

“What?” I ask, shocked and slightly out of breath from exerting myself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says a touch more clearly as he clears his throat and looks up, hands coming down and eyes avoiding mine. 

I blink a few times and throw my hands up. “I can’t do this.” I let out a breath and turned back to the door. 

“Y/N, please don’t,” he says, and I stop. I surprise myself, but I stop, turning back to him slowly. 

“Why?” There’s a long pause that follows my question, and I wonder whether Bucky even knows why he’s asking this. “Genuinely Bucky... Why are you so insistent on me staying in this room right now?

He runs a nervous hand over his beard and shifts his weight to one foot as he throws one hand up in a single wave. 

“I don’t need you getting hurt again,” he states, still avoiding eye contact. 

My eyebrows narrow in confusion, and I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side as I stare at him. “We’re in a hotel. Not a battlefield.” 

“It’s better we stay in here than wander around. The guys who were after us are likely still hunting us, and it’s best we don’t show our faces in public spaces,” he notes. 

Ok, that’s a logical reason, but something tells me this is a more emotional reason on his end. He’s not sharing everything, though…

“Ok…” I drag out and look at the balcony. “Then I’ll go out there.” 

I walk promptly to the balcony, surprisingly not being stopped by him as I brush past him and jiggle the door handle, finding it stuck. “Fucking hell,” I grumble under my breath as I pull the handle and push it up and down to try and get it to work.  

A hand comes behind me and takes the door handle for me. I stare at it, not turning to acknowledge how Bucky expertly pushes it just right for it to open.

“I had the same issue,” he says, pulling his hand back and nodding his head to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.” He steps back, quiet and sinking back into his usual stand-offish behavior, but now with more nerves and awkwardness. 

I give a grunt in acknowledgment and shut the balcony door behind me before sitting in a shitty lawn chair. I don’t turn to see if he’s still standing there watching me, but instead, I focus on the city view in front of me. It’s not a well-off country, so the views aren’t more than rundown buildings and vendors in the street shouting for people to buy their things over their neighbors, but it’s fresh air away from the man that makes my blood boil. 

__________

Fifteen minutes later, I feel a little calmer. Although still annoyed, I’m more confused than anything. Why the hell was he acting so strange, and why do I feel like some kind of serious conversation was going to-

“Y/N?” I hear the door open with a creak and turn to see Bucky with wet hair, a change of clothes, and soft eyes focusing on the door that’s obviously broken. “God, this place has gone down in quality,” he notes, leaving the door cracked as he comes onto the balcony with me. 

“Been here before?” I ask, turning back to the view ahead. 

“Once like 8 years ago,” he nods and moves to stand by the railing, his arms crossed over the edge of it, and his gaze now focused on the same place mine is. “Must have gotten new management.” 

It’s silent for almost five minutes after that. No words, no looks, no sounds. Just silence outside of the city noise. I debate, standing and going back into the room if he’s going to continue to go radio silent and not explain his strange behavior earlier, but just before I stand, he speaks up. 

“I don’t know why,” he says, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. He continues to stare off into the city. I wait a few moments, and he continues. “I don’t know why you stress me out more than the others.” 

Great. So that’s how this is going to go. 

I stand and silently move to go back into the room, but his hand clasps around my wrist. 

“Please, just let me find the words,” he asks, and I can hear the plea in his voice. 

I look back and up at him and his eyes are in the puppy dog form I’ve seen only a select few times. Ones that have never been directed at me but have held no truer emotion than requisition. 

“Ok…” I drag out, moving back to the lawn chair and sitting quietly as he drops my wrist almost hesitantly and leans against the railing, fidgeting with his hands. I’ve never seen him like this, so I give him the space. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes before just unloading everything. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt,” he starts. “I mean, I don’t like seeing any of my friends get hurt. It’s no decent person’s interest to watch friends and family get harmed, but it’s like a nagging in my head. No,” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words. “It’s like having pins and needles surrounding your lungs, and every time you try and take a breath to come down from the terror- the pain of seeing them hurt- the needles poke and stab. Making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath and ground yourself. And that’s only a part of the pain that comes with it.”

I stare up at him. My eyes are likely wide as I take in what he’s saying. He glances at me once before looking back at his hands. 

“I know I’m an asshole to you. I know that,” he says, cringing as if the truth behind it hurts him. “I don’t know why. At least, I say that to make myself not think about it longer than I can probably handle, but I’ve talked to my therapist about it, and she says it's a protective technique my brain finds more plausible than just dealing with the confusing feelings I have towards you.” 

My eyes shift back and forth as if trying to understand the words. 

“Feelings towards me?” I repeat. “Like annoyance?” 

“No,” he sighs, and then he chuckles a soft laugh under his breath. “Well, yes. Sometimes you can be annoying, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it endearing most of the time.” 

My eyebrows raise at that. Where the hell is all this coming from? 

I shake my head in disbelief and lean back in my chair. “Barnes, you’re giving me a bit of whiplash, and I’m not sure-” 

“I like you.” 

My mouth is still open from where my sentence was going, and I blink once. Then twice. Then, a third time, as I tried to understand if I just heard him right. Because if he meant it as a friend, I’m shocked. But if he meant it otherwise… I’m hallucinating. 

His eyes find mine, and this time, he doesn’t look away. He keeps eye contact, and I can feel him trying to read me. 

“I-Is there more to that sentence?” I ask, my brain trying to make sense of the situation and short-circuiting ultimately. 

“Yes, but from the looks of it, you’re still trying to translate those three words.” 

“Good observation,” I nod, pursing my lips and sinking into my chair.

“I’ve been known to make them,” he smiles a tight-lipped smile. I’m actually grateful for his quip at this moment. 

“Bucky, you have to understand that those words don’t make sense with how you treat me-” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he pushes off the railing and steps forward just in front of my chair. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why it’s taken me this long to apologize for the way I’ve acted this long, but for some reason… When we were fighting today, I saw a man get the jump on you. I was seconds from leaving my own fight and coming straight to you to handle it for you, but you quickly turned the situation around. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you in that scenario, yet something about it…” He pauses, looking up at the sky, throwing a hand through his hair. “It freaked me out. It freaked me out far more than it has in the past.” 

He looks at me in a sincere way and moves to sit in the busted up, rusted, and metal patio chair that looks like it very well could have been here when he came 8 years ago. It creaks as he turns it in and angles his body toward mine. His elbows rest on his knees, and he looks down at his hands again. And as he talks, I realize he’s breaking it down not just for me but for himself—these emotions and sudden changes. 

“Maybe it’s because I knew if I didn’t get to you, you were on your own. We didn’t have a backup. I couldn’t call Steve or Nat, or Wanda to come in and help where I couldn’t. And then the actualization that if I couldn’t get to you, if no one was there to back you up, there was a chance I’d end up regretting everything all because I can’t seem to come to terms with my feelings.” His eyes find mine again. “And then that cut,” his eyes drag from mine down my torso to where my knife wound lays under my tank top. “It was like a final piece to knock some sense into my head.” 

He looks at me, and I can’t explain it, but I want to hold him when he looks at me like that. 

“Seeing you hurt reminded me… You’re human. You aren’t invincible even if you can take on three men triple your size attacking you at once. It’s a skill I’m glad and impressed that you have, but it doesn’t guarantee someone won’t get the jump on you again, and I’m not sure I can handle that.”

I stay in silence for a moment, taking in the information and processing it all. I must have been quiet for a while because a soft “Y/N?” makes me look up from where I’ve been staring blankly at the balcony. 

“You ok?” he asks gently, carefully. 

I nod and run a hand up and down my arm from a slight breeze blowing with the sun setting in the distance. 

“Trying to…” I started, but I didn’t know what words were meant to follow. “I’m a little shocked,” I say, eventually looking at him. 

“I can’t say I blame you. It’s a 180 from our normal conversations,” he takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him. “Do you need a minute?” 

I shake my head. “No…” Then I scrunch my nose. “Well, maybe.” 

“That’s ok,” he nods, sitting back in his chair, and it weakly groans in protest. He takes in the fact my legs are up to my chest now, and I’ve wrapped my arms around myself. “We should go inside. It’ll get cold soon.” He stands and motions for me to head in first, then offers a hand to help me stand up. 

I look at it before taking it, standing, and walking in with my arms still around my middle. As soon as we’re in, I turn and catch us both off guard by being chest-to-chest with him after he shuts the balcony door. I don’t move, though, and neither does he. 

“Since honesty seems to be the focus of the night,” I look up at him. “I’ve always admired you…” His face softens at that. “But I’d be lying to both of us if I said how you treated me didn’t affect that original feeling.” He nods in understanding and slightly cringes to himself. 

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.” 

“Why did you- Why did you not like me at first?” 

He shrugs a touch, but there’s no uncertainty behind it. “I saw you as young and naive. I saw you as someone who seemed to make almost anyone love you, and all you had to do was exist around them. I think a broken part of me was envious and confused by that trait, and I used it as a reason to be hateful to you instead of taking advantage of the kindness you freely give and allowing myself the gift of that. I didn’t think I deserved that.” He sighs, his hands going into the pockets of his shorts. “I convinced myself that your kindness was nativity when I’ve learned quite quickly that you’re anything but naive.”  

I sigh, nodding my head as I turn and move to sit on the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t be the first person to misinterpret my kindness. It’s why I tend to fall into becoming a stubborn ass when people don’t appreciate that kindness. Hence why I haven’t been the perfect person in this relationship myself,” I motion between us. “I should have recognized where you could have been coming from and continued to kill you with pleasantries, but you didn’t seem to respond well to it.” 

“It wasn’t your job to recognize that or fix it. It was mine to stop being a stubborn ass myself and talk to you rather than make assumptions,” he shifts on his feet. “I thought I was self-preserving when I was actually self-sabotaging. Something I’m still working on recognizing.” 

“It’s a process,” I sigh, knowing the steps well enough myself. I consider the conversation and take a deep breath, relaxing in my spot as I come to my conclusion. “Bucky?” He looks at me, hopeful and attentive. “I forgive you.”

I watch as his body stiffens at the declaration before slowly relaxing.

“I don’t expect you to just be fine with everything I’ve done the last-”

“Many years?” I chuckle, lighting the mood. “Yeah, but why would I want to waste any more time when I get it? I get your reasoning, and I can’t say I blame you.” 

“But you should blame me,” he moves to sit on the comforter next to me, our knees brushing. 

I shrug, turning to face him better. “But I don’t.” He starts to talk, and I cover his mouth with my hand. His icy blue eyes looked down at the motion before back at me. “I swear to God, Barnes. You take two steps forward, and it’s like you feel guilty for making progress and regress.” He flinches slightly at my words, and I feel I struck a nerve. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-” I take my hand back.

“No, you’re right. It’s something I’m still working on. I mean, small things are easy to accept and move on, but this,” he gestures to me. “A part of me doesn’t believe I deserve your forgiveness after the caseload of shit I’ve given you, but-” 

“But it’s my forgiveness to give, so I’ll decide if I want to give it…” I look at him as if waiting for him to connect the dots. He smiles and nods as he looks down at his hands. “You catching on?” 

“I’m catching on,” he looks up at him again. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” 

We look at each other for a little while, and the atmosphere is new. It’s not tense. It’s not awkward. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s like we’ve come to a point we’ve been actively avoiding for years, and it turned out to be a really nice point.  

“So…” he starts, and I decide to break the seriousness of it all. 

“Why is there only one bed, Bucky?” I ask with a smirk, turning and patting the comforter we’re sitting on.

He looks at it with me and smiles with a laugh. “It wasn’t intentional, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Feels a touch intentional. Not letting me leave the room or demanding I stay close kinda plays into the fact you’d be forced into sharing a bed with me. Another way to secure me close by,” I tease.

“Or…” he drags out, and his hand comes up, pushing a wayward hair behind my ear and casually taking his hand back. “The receptionist told me they didn’t have any two-bedroom rooms available right now because there is a festival in town this weekend, and they’re booked up.” 

“Seems legit, but not sure if I believe you,” I grin a touch bashful and look around at the room as if I’m surveying it and not slightly melting at his touch. 

“Believe me or not,” he shrugs, standing and stretching. “Either way, we’re sharing a bed tonight, sweetheart.” He winks. He fucking winks at me and moves to the other side of the bed, getting his side ready for sleep. 

This new side of him is not one I was ready for, but seeing it makes me think about what I haven’t gotten to experience sooner. So I say that. 

“I knew you were a lady's man back in the day, but I never thought I’d see the flirt you were rumored to be,” I turn in my spot on the bed and look at him from the end of the bed. 

“I don’t flirt with everyone,” he says, throwing the blanket back and adjusting the pillows. 

“Well, yeah, obviously, but-” 

“Just people I’m attracted to,” he says, cutting me off with a telling grin. “And women I’d like to flirt back.” 

My mouth drops, and I let out a laugh. A genuine laugh. 

“Was that a move? Did you just make a move on me?” I smile like a teenager at him, partially in disbelief and partially in interest. 

“Did it work?” he chuckles, sitting on the edge and scooting into the bed but not fully getting in it. 

I shake my head with a smile and laugh again. “Honestly, I have to say yes.” 

His smile widens at my confession, and he leans back on the headboard, two pillows propped behind him. 

“So you’re saying I have a chance if I keep it up?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy. It’s not going to take just a flashy wink and a flirty comment to get my attention fully. I like to be sought after.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Is it?” I ask incredulously with a smirk as I move to my side of the bed and throw the covers back enough to sneak under them. 

“Can’t give away all my plans,” he shakes his head, and I turn off my bedside lamp. 

“Wouldn’t want you to. I like being surprised,” I lay down and nuzzled into my pillow before turning on my side and looking up at him. “Must say, your surprise tonight was a pretty good start.” 

“You think?” 

“I think,” I nod and debate on my next idea, but I decide what the hell? Who’s it hurting? “Feel free to say no, but if we are sharing the same bed, I tend to be a cuddler unconsciously, so if we-” 

“Yes,” he says simply a large grin he doesn’t seem to care to hide marks his handsome features. “Yes, please.” He nods, moving under the blanket. 

“That answer was a little too fast to believe that this hotel didn’t have other beds.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shimmies under the blanket, and I feel his leg brush mine. 

“Listen, normally I wouldn’t, but I learn I sleep best when I’m with another person, so-” 

“You don’t have to give me a reason, doll. I’m happy to lend the support.” His arms are quickly wrapped around my middle and I’m turned to where my back is pressed against his front and I’m not going to lie… It’s a perfect fit. “Night, Y/N.” 

“Night, Bucky.” I smile putting my hands on his around my middle and laying back into him. 

This was a good start to something possibly more…

Ending A/N: I wouldn't be opposed to doing one more scene for this little drabble, but let me know if that's something you guys would be interested in :)

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My Lovelies Forever:

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[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch11 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~6.8K

❥ Warnings: none in this chapter

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Slower moments have become a bit rarer, and you cherish the moments where Geto keeps his hands entirely off of you. Especially around the twins, he’s come to respect the idea that you want to keep those matters entirely separate. Even if in his mind, he might think that a happily married couple who can’t keep their hands off each other is a healthy thing for the twins to see, you just don’t want to entertain it yourself.

Because no matter what he thinks, none of this is fucking real.

Geto and the twins have taken the liberty to take you out, first to a bakery as per tradition (the girls can’t go without their sweet treats), then a stroll around the park (again, as per tradition), and Geto insists remaining behind for a bit for a picnic and some sight seeing. While you engage with the twins, he sets aside time for solo meditation in the fields.

“Mom! I’m so excited for you and Mr. Geto to get married!” Nanako exclaims in the middle of attempting to snatch one of their hand-held game consoles from Mimiko. Mimiko huffs at her sister, keeping the console just out of Nanako’s reach while she’s got her brows furrowed in concentration, trying to beat another level at a classic Sonic the Hedgehog game. “It’s going to be so great for you to really be our Mom for real!”

“Nanako! For fuck’s sake,” Mimiko scoffs as she shoves her away. “Wait your turn! I’m almost done with this level and then you can play!”

“Girls,” Geto cautions from afar. “Be kind to each other! Remember I don’t like to see you two fight.”

“We’re not fighting!” they shout back in unison and you can’t help but hold back a little snort at that. Typical sister behavior.

“She’s just being rude as usual,” Mimiko sneers while shooting a glare at her. Nanako fumes, her nostrils flaring.

“Well you’re just hogging the game!” Nanako shoots back while scrunching her nose in disgust.

You find your lips twitching into a little smile at the exchange. Such a normal one in spite of the world they’re in, where you’re still not sure if you can make any sense of it. But little moments like this—where they behave like people and not like they’re plotting to change the world to fit an agenda that doesn’t seem plausible in the long run—it doesn’t feel that way here.

“So which one of you is the older twin?” you ask playfully, knowing full well that’s not the sort of question you want to ask twins.

“I am,” Mimiko points out in a matter-of-fact tone, side-eying her sister, and Nanako huffs in response. Such animated reactions from Nanako which is hallmark for the younger sibling in your experience.

“It doesn’t matterrrrrr because I’m the prettier one,” Nanako retorts while sticking out her tongue. Mimiko rolls her eyes at that and the game plays the level complete jingle when she hands the console over to Nanako.

“Finally! Sheesh, you take forever to beat these levels,” Nanako taunts as she navigates her character—she prefers Tails while Mimiko goes with Knuckles or Shadow—through the next underground level.

You giggle again at the scene and freeze the moment you feel Geto’s presence creep up from behind you, settling beside you and pulling you into his chest. You don’t say a word, shutting your eyes as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and then to your temple. His arms snake around your waist, securing a protective hold.

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he murmurs, his tone tender, and his eyes flicker with a bit of amusement, but not from tormenting you this time. No, no—he’s happy you’re trying to make an active effort to be a part of this family.

For a moment, things go still between the two of you, and it’s not uncomfortable, exactly. You take notice of the way the sun’s warmth bathes your skin and you ground yourself with the sound of the soft rustling of leaves as soft gusts of wind rushes by. The more you concentrate on grounding, the more you can feel the pounding of Geto’s heart. A gentle ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump rhythm may have been a therapeutic one if it’s from someone else.

But you remember your place. You’re not free yet.

He calls your name and your eyes snap open again. He glances down at you with his eyes shining in the sun, twinkling like the little gemstones those violet eyes of his resemble. Yes, he does appear something akin to royalty, but he’s a slippery serpent beneath that fair facade.

“Yes, darling?” you whisper, wishing dearly to escape to another reality where you’re not in this cage.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your skin as he presses another kiss to your temple. “We all love you.”

He can believe that all he likes, but you know it can’t be true. Your fingers play with a few stray strands of his hair which gleams so brilliantly in the daylight. He does have such beautiful hair and such beauty is wasted on a man of his nature.

“I know,” you reply, but you don’t know. Not really. You’re not sure if you can ever believe a word that comes out of his mouth because there’s always going to be something else to decipher. “I know you do, darling. I’m happy that you’re happy with me.”

His finger trails along the gold chain on your neck, admiring how it reflects the light. That same finger dares to dip lower to trace little patterns along your collarbone and you suppress a shiver throughout your body.

“You make me the most alive I’ve felt in years,” he remarks—he’s been saying that a ton more lately, you notice—his tone reverent, like he’s praying to you like you’re his God instead. His hand finds yours, intertwining them as his thumb massages along your knuckles. Soft. Slow. Gentle. But each touch leaves behind a tingling sensation like in a way he’s marking you in a much more discreet way, in a more insidious way. You feel as if you’re restricted from movement or from any true protest, his hold on you tight, suffocating, much like his overall presence in your life is.

Somehow this feels more intimate than any time you have with him in bed which somehow feels impersonal and detached. “All I wish is that you feel like you belong with us because you do, my love.”

The smile that forms on his lips is soft; it’s such an unusual sight—like he’s trying to find some inkling of the man he might have been once upon a time before you came into the picture. Your lips purse; what kind of man had he been in the past? Any different to the version of himself now? At one point, has he tried to be kind?

You don’t know why you’re so curious all of a sudden, but if there’s anything the world has taught you, it’s that villains in the story are made, not born right off the bat.

“Sheesh, get a room, Mr. Geto,” Nanako grimaces while watching the two of you interact. Mimiko has a blank but you can definitely read displeased expression on her face. Your complexion pales at the remark and Geto can’t help but laugh in that empty and condescending way of his until his shoulders shake and he adjusts you so that you’re in a more comfortable position in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Nanako,” he replies through a string of hearty chuckles. “Don’t mind us. You focus on your sister.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you’re making it all gross and hot and heavy and we’re stuck watching it like non-consenting voyeurs,” Nanako quips with a flat look on her otherwise animated face. Mimiko hums in agreement.

“Well, at least we know Geto hasn’t forgotten how to charm a woman,” Mimiko points out with a note of sarcasm as she quirks an eyebrow. “For a while there I was concerned that with you being all work and no play you had forgotten how to find pleasure in the simpler things in life, Mr. Geto.”

You cover your own flushed face, and you can feel Geto’s gaze avert to you and the embarrassment sinks deeper into your very core of your being. You don’t even know why you feel this way but you have made it a point in the past not to behave in such a way around the twins.

You don’t even like entertaining this.

“You two,” Geto objects, and you can’t believe you see him fighting back a flushed face himself. This is the first time you have seen him lose his composure like this. “Don’t make me ground you both again.”

Nanako gawks, appalled, sticking her nose into the air before twisting herself fully away so she doesn’t have to witness the two of you faux doting on each other while she tries to focus on the Sonic level she’s still in the middle of completing.

You laugh openly again at her reaction and are then cut off as Geto jerks you to his direction, his lips hovering just above yours as your bewildered eyes bore into his before they squeeze shut the minute his lips meet yours. This time the kiss isn’t forceful or invasive, but coaxing. Gentle. A hand rakes through your hair as he deepens the kiss, the flat of his tongue resting over yours. As he pulls away a barely visible line of spit connects your lips and he breaks off the connection with a little flick of his tongue. His face is still flushed but more so from arousal than embarrassment.

“My love,” he rasps in a seductive manner, cradling your face.

“We all adore you so,” he reminds you again.

You don’t protest when he captures your lips in another passionate, consuming kiss—mostly because it might cause a bit of an unwanted scene—your arms snaking around his neck, your lips moving against his to appease his efforts. That’s what he wants, isn’t it? To seem normal, healthy?

You can do that. Just for a while longer.

The day you loathe is rapidly approaching. Miss Suda has taken the liberty of assisting you with your wedding preparations along with a few of Geto’s other servants. Geto has all the money in the world to throw away for the sake of the spectacle, and he’s all about showing off.

You stand there motionless before the large mirror spanning one wall almost like an accent, hands to your sides as Manami Suda fusses around with the silk of your wedding kimono. Her fingers are nimble, deft; her voice remains soft with that underlying edge of disdain (whether toward you or toward Geto is hard to discern for sure); her words with you are jagged and sharp like the jewels on her neck.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” begins Suda, her tone lacking any true comfort in them. “But I guess, playing the long game comes with its compromises.”

You do not respond to that. More like you don’t have any real response to that that won’t come off as bitter and vindictive which you do have every right to feel. Because if there’s one aspect of your agency Geto can’t change, it’s your right to feel the way you fucking feel.

In a way, you think of your silence as another way to protest. It’s one she dismisses easily with a sigh, though. She continues to shuffle around you as she adjusts your kimono, examining, assessing every curve and crevice of your body, determining your measurements, practically eyeballing it and not really utilizing the tape measure in her hands. Almost like this stuff comes as easy as breathing for someone like her, and given how effortlessly fabulous you think of her, it can’t be too far off.

The kimono she’s chosen for you is a beautiful one, but wearing it feels like a ball and chain, just a bitter reminder of your sorrows since your arrival here and now Geto hopes to pin you down permanently.

“For a week before the binding ceremony, you’re expected to fast along with Geto,” Suda explains, her voice still as detached as ever like she’s discussing something completely arbitrary like today’s weather. She gestures for you to lift your arms, her eyes scrutinizing the intricately patterned silk as it falls gracefully around your figure. “Then during the first ritual, he’s going to mix his blood with yours, but not the other way around this time for obvious reasons.”

Your eyes flash with irritation, undirected at Miss Suda of course.

Gee, you might have never guessed! Your lips curl into a bitter little smile at that notion. How can it be otherwise with someone like Suguru Geto, their ‘enlightened one’? Someone who can never dare taint his pristine sorcerer blood with that of a lowly monkey like you, even if he claims to love you. This marriage feels more like a purification process.

What an audacious way to put it, but that seems right up Geto’s alley.

“So what else should I know about the ceremony?” you dare to query like you’re interested in what to brace yourself for but your voice drenched in sarcasm. You fail to mask the bitterness in you but you figure it doesn’t matter around Miss Suda. As a woman, she understands your plight, your disdain, your reluctance to accept the status quo, and certainly empathizes with you but she has to maintain some semblance of her mask should Geto waltz into the room uninvited.

“Well, a long-winded speech from Geto, I suppose,” Suda answers with a sigh that borders on sympathetic. As sympathetic someone as stoic as her can appear toward non-sorcerers, even if you are a sister regardless of your status. “And you have to give one as well. I can help you prepare one. I can’t expect any sentiments you have for Geto are anything positive.”

Oh, if only. Maybe then this all won’t feel like such a fucking joke but here you are, about to be tied to a man you despise more than words in your extensive vocabulary can express. That says something.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, practically seething at the mere prospect. “Guess he’ll find any way to stroke that already over-inflated ego of his…”

Manami chuckles at that as she steps back to admire you in your wedding kimono.

Her dark green eyes meet yours through the mirror as she adjusts some of the wrinkles on your hips.

“I think I got all of your measurements. I’ll tailor the kimono to complement your body. You’ve got quite the figure,” Suda compliments with a small smile. “And of course, we can figure out what we’re going to do about hair and makeup. It’s still your wedding day, and while it might not be your dream wedding, we still want you to look your best.”

The words fall flat. Practically meaningless to you but you know she’s actually trying to forge some kind of bond with you and she doesn’t even need to do that.

You mumble a half-hearted, “Thank you, Miss Suda,” as your gaze lands on the mirror again. The reflection staring back is someone you no longer recognize. While the kimono is stunning as you’ve stated before, it’s an iridescent cascade of blues, silvers, and a hint of some pink shifting beneath the lights, it still feels like a mockery. Just some cheap version of a bride’s gown (even if Geto has spent a fortune on this damn fabric).

“Please, call me Manami,” Suda waves off, her dark green eyes twinkling with something that you can’t name. “Of course. I’m going to grab some more supplies, so hang tight for a few, alright?”

Manami then saunters out of the room with a little flounce to her shapely hips (that you’re a bit envious of yourself, you can’t help your eyes trailing after her a bit) and into the restroom to fetch more supplies, her absence leaving you alone with your raging thoughts. The silence is suffocating, deafening—broken only by the soft rustle of the silk kimono as you shift in your spot.

You give yourself another once over, glancing once again at your reflection, but all that stares back is still a stranger to you. You long for the woman you once were, someone full of fight and might and spirited as ever, but she seems beaten and bruised when you look hard enough past the superficial. All the little marks Geto or Gojo have left behind has tainted your perception of yourself. You feel dirty, used recklessly by two horrid men. You appear more fitting as a servant girl than a greedy sorcerer’s wife, yet he deems you the worthiest among a sea of unworthy.

You find your mind beginning to wander off to another reality, envisioning a scenario where you marry your real dream man and not some nightmarish ghoulish version of him that you find in Geto. You think of someone who’s attentive, someone who’s kind, someone who doesn’t coerce you or force you into some twisted fantasies his best friend has about sharing his girl. You’re not even his girl and you refuse to address yourself as such. Not without the title he’s thrust upon you being laden with resentment and bitterness. Foul like those curse spirits Geto is forced to consume.

You only ever hear him speak ill of his cursed technique, and you’re surprised he even vents to you about such thing when before he doesn’t bother to discuss his rituals in exorcisms of unsuspecting clients. In some ways, it seems that he’s begun to use you as a way to ground himself between the burdens he’s forced to carry on his labored shoulders. It’s almost as if…when he speaks anything of his role as a sorcerer, he doesn’t view his role as his sworn duty. More like an obligation he’s been forced into himself.

It’s almost as if…being a sorcerer is something he’s never wanted, either. While he enjoys being worshiped like a deity without a shadow of a doubt, he doesn’t appear to want to do this all alone. Yes, you understand you’re here to fill a certain void Gojo won’t be able to fill at one point in the future. But there’s something else there that you just can’t wrap your head around.

There are still too many missing pieces to this large puzzle. But the sooner you fit everything together, the sooner it might be easier to get the fuck out of there.

After the first few bits of preparations for the ceremony, you retire back to the bedroom and prepare a bath for yourself. Geto has not yet returned from his typical duties, and you don’t really care to wait much longer. You shut off the main lights and lit some tea lights to rim the bath tub and help yourself to some of the Epsom salt and bath oils Geto likes to spoil you with from time to time. This might have been even better with a bath tray full of bountiful gourmet snacks, but you can do without them.

As you wait for the bath to fill up you reach for some other supplies. In the middle of twisting around you realize the mirror beginning to crack and a shard flies toward your hand and you shriek from the contact, frightened out of your wits as you scramble out of the restroom and slam the door shut. You can’t even see what attacked you; it just seems like it came out of nowhere and now you’re fully naked with a sliced up hand and as blood drips out from the large gashes you try desperately to dab it clean with a towel you still had in possession.

Geto rushes through the door upon hearing you scream, calling out your name —what timing—and his eyebrows flash upon seeing you so shaken up, like you’ve seen a ghost which in his world isn’t far off because you couldn’t perceive who or what had been in there with you.

Geto dashes to you what feels like seconds, careful in handling you as you try to babble some excuses over what happened, trying to tell him you’re fine and it’s just a few scratches but he hushes your rambling and tells you to calm down.

Funny words coming from a man who looks far from calm about this.

Geto gingerly grabs the injured hand. He inspects the cuts and gashes, his eyebrows furrowing into what almost seems something akin to concern. It almost looks like how he looks when he tries to express guilt for when Satoru takes things too far between the three of you.

“Who dared to do this to you?” he demands, his voice low, grainy, feral eyes meeting your frightened ones. “Who the hell did this to you?”

“I-it was an accident,” you stammer, struggling to form a coherent response and a little dazed as you take in what’s happening—he’s not just concerned, he’s absolutely furious. Not with you, but with what’s happened to you? Are you sure you’re not hallucinating this entire thing? “I-I was just trying t-to reach for something and s-something cut me. I couldn’t tell what it was and I—!”

His piercing violet gaze renders you nearly breathless, as you endlessly babble on and on and on trying to find the right words but he lets out a sigh out of irritation. It’s not directed at you.

“—Someone attached a curse to you,” he interrupts while a deep scowl stresses his features, his forehead wrinkling. “It’s one I don’t recognize. I’ll take care of the problem, but I’m taking you to the infirmary to get this taken care of or actually…”

He trails his finger along the edges of the largest gash on your hand, his touch gentle, tender, but also clinical like he’s trying to examine your wound like a medic. You grimace from the light sting from the contact, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. He mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath as he gathers some supplies to help clean and disinfect the wounds.

“I’ll take care of this myself,” he snarls in a sharper tone. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

He’s gentle with his handling of you, such a stark contrast to what you usually see from him. If you don’t know any better you might have glimpsed at something a bit more humane beneath the numerous layers of the role he’s forced into himself as some kind of deity. You know better than to trust what he chooses to show you. It’s all part of some grand scheme. That’s all he knows how to do; he’s a puppeteer. He knows how to string those around him along and it’s not just limited to you. You see that in how he slaps Satoru around like an obedient dog even if he claims to love him too. You can’t tell if a man like him understands what love really is.

If someone like him can truly love at all.

You examine his gestures with a quizzical look on your face. Nothing about this guy adds up at all; everything about him is a conundrum, a mystery. You don’t even understand the half of what kind of burdens that weighs so heavy on his shoulders.

“There,” he comments after a period of silence, inspecting your hand for any cuts or gashes he may have missed while tending to the wounds and ensuring everything is bandaged up. He cradles your hand in both of his, and your jaw slackens as you scrutinize him. It’s hard to make out what thoughts might be raging in his mind, but you’re shocked to find he truly is concerned for your safety.

"Suguru?” you inquire, tilting your head as you continue to search his eyes for something beyond what he chooses to display. You can’t understand it. Does he actually think you’d fall for this? That you’re going to believe he cares for you?

“You don’t have to speak,” he mutters as he leads you to the bed and gestures for you to rest on it. You follow his order without another word. One of his hands brushes through your hair as a way to ground himself, perhaps he’s grappling with what his next steps should be in figuring out who’s planted that curse he’s probably exorcised between this time and you haven’t realized it because you’re not yet gifted with the vision even with the aid of the talisman. He joins you on the bed and pulls you into him, his expression blank, unreadable. You take your uninjured hand and cup one of his cheeks, brushing your thumb against his skin.

“I’m alright now because of you,” you try to soothe him with false praise, but as long as he believes your words does it matter if they’re true or not? All you can ever say is what you know he wants to hear. No one ever likes the truth, especially when it hurts. “Thank you, Suguru.”

You bite down on your lip, snuggling yourself into him, just trying to bring him some semblance of reassurance, of comfort, something you wish you could have yourself but this brings you nothing but more and more resentment building a fortress around your heart. You feel him kiss you on your head again, hugging you close, breathing slow, controlled.

“No one should think of bringing harm to you,” he growls under his breath. “I’ll figure out who planted that curse and see to it that they’re executed on sight. No one should insult either of us like this.”

Your head snaps up at that. Both of you? Are your ears deceiving you? Why is he acting like this—? Why are you finding yourself falling for the act? Because that’s all this is to him, right? Just a little show?

“Suguru,” you begin tentatively, your hand dropping to his chest, drawing idle patterns as you usher for him to look at you. “Look at me; I’m fine now.”

Though I wish that curse offed me the chance it got, you think to yourself. Because if I can’t get out of here alive…

Geto grits his teeth at that, trying to find comfort in what you’re saying but failing; his grip around you constricts like squid arms and you feel your heart racing.

“I know,” he admits finally, loosening his grip as he steps out of bed. “You rest here. I need to take care of a few things. From tomorrow, we begin our fast.”

You nod and watch him as he ambles out of the bedroom, leaving you to dwell on everything.

Everything keeps making my head spin, you think, I don’t know what more to do…

Your eyes widen upon realization and you amble into the restroom to switch off the bath, thankful it hadn’t spilled over during all of this. As you perch on the edge of the tub, you hear the bedroom door creak open again and Geto returns, joining you in the restroom.

He’s brought you a bouquet of flowers, some more pain reliever, chocolates…

And you notice something else, a more bashful expression. Bashful. That’s something you’ve yet to witness from someone who prides himself on being composed and far too above such emotions.

He rests the bouquet of fresh red roses on the bathroom counter and rest the box of chocolates on your lap.

“Those are your favorite, aren’t they? You…mentioned that those were your favorite one time,” he mutters, his gaze averting elsewhere as though he’s trying not to make a big deal of this like he had just moments ago. “Are you alright?”

You blink, gripping the box of chocolates tightly.

“I am,” you whisper, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be fine. You exorcised whatever that was already, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he replies, his gaze landing on the broken area of the mirror. “We’ll get that repaired as well. It might have been a stray curse, but you never know. I’m not very well received in the world of jujutsu and their conservative ways, so they might’ve planted a few things for me here and there.”

Ah, paranoia. Always a fun look on a man who already has so many other issues.

“So you think that thing was really after you?” you ask him, fiddling with the box.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, sliding a finger down your cheek. “Or someone close to me.”

You don’t know how to respond to something like that. You go completely silent but he’s the one kneeling before you now, his hands resting on your knees.

“I see you were drawing a bath,” he comments in a low voice. “You’re free to do that now, of course. There’s nothing here to harm you anymore, Mamma.”

You nod, brushing your hand through his bangs, admiring how silky his hair feels. He takes such good care of it, and your fingers idly twirl a strand while you hum in response.

“Join me?” you invite him, and you catch him flushing slightly in response—yet another moment of bashfulness that’s so rare to see from him. You can’t believe what you’re asking, but this doesn’t have to be more than what it really is for you and that’s trying to fucking survive this torment.

His breath hitches but he stands up, disrobing before you and getting into the tub, the water sloshing a bit as he settles inside. He beckons you to follow and you do, allowing him to pull you onto his lap.

“You’re supposed to be safe here,” he says after a period of silence. You’re not really paying attention, focused on the way the flames on the tea lights still flicker every now and then. “You still are, as long as you’re with me.”

He can keep telling himself that, but you know your own truth, you rown reality. It’s a reality you sorely wish to escape from, but your spirit is beginning to fade.

The dreaded day arrives. As you are instructed to do, three days prior you have fasted alongside Geto as a way to honor the cult. It’s in a way seen as a spiritual awakening.

Following the first ceremony, there shall be a bountiful banquet that only shall be shared between the two of you; no other spectators so you can enjoy your first night as an officially wedded pair.

You stand close behind Geto before all of his devotees who are on a platform just below you. Nanako and Mimiko are hidden in the crowd somewhere, but you know they must be eager to finally see their efforts in making their father not be lonely actually work out for them. You so dearly wish to crush their spirits like they have yours…

The chanting from Geto’s followers begins softly, their voices murmuring in unison:

“Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong…”

The words merge into a crescendo, echoing through the grand hall of the temple.

Ah, the classic prayer Geto scripts himself for his goons to chant to him and he soaks up the attention like he really is some kind of God. It can’t be further from the truth, but you figure here, that doesn’t matter. Here, Geto calls the shots. Geto is the man of the hour at all times. Now he expects you to share his throne even if this is not what you want for yourself.

“Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong…”

Man, I knew the guy was full of himself, but this is just on another level, you think as you’re seated next to him on a raised platform as his followers kneel and pray to both you and him. They chant like soldiers at war. Their words echoing through the room. As one of his followers in a Time Vessel Association cloak ignites the large fire in the center of the room, that’s when the ceremony finally begins.

“Followers of Time Association, lend me your undivided attention on behalf of our Enlightened One, our Lord, and our King, Geto Suguru,” the follower wielding the dancing torch announces in a deafening tone to the rest of the room. Your gaze flits around each corner and you find Manami and Miguel standing at the very end of the room, observing the events. “Tonight, we gather to celebrate the union between our Lord, our King of the New World and his chosen bride. A worthy woman who has sworn herself to him.”

Such fucking lies, you think to yourself as your gaze flits downward to your hand, which is still healing from the gashes from your accident. Geto notices something amiss with you and rests his large hand over your injury free one, catching your attention. Your brows furrow as he gazes down at you with a blank expression. If you don’t know any better, you would have thought he was expressing concern for your wellbeing.

But you know if he truly cares he would not have put you through this.

As Geto is presented a knife with the Time Association engraving just like the one on your necklace, you wince as you watch him sink the blade ever so slightly to pierce the skin and draw a bit of blood before doing the same to you. You clench your eyes shut as you feel the slight sting but you can tell Geto is trying to be kind, to be gentle with you. He presses two fingers into the open wound and gathers a bit of blood to circle into your wound.

“Now your blood has been purified by mine,” he murmurs with a hint of affection—none of that condescending nonsense or something he often laces with some kind of ulterior motive. Nothing. Just pure affection and you can’t believe that you’re witnessing something like that from a scumbag like him. You see his eyes dilate ever so slightly. The follower returns with small bandages to conceal the small cuts.

Geto yanks you forward, closer to him, and he removes a bit of his yakata to showcase what he’s tattooed onto his collarbone. Your eyes widen into the size of saucers.

Your name. It’s etched into his skin in a royal blue ink. Something he has done to himself. The brilliant color seems to pulsate with some kind of energy one can barely perceive if they’re not actively looking for something else.

“We won’t force this of you, allow this to serve as a reminder of my loyalty and my love to you, my dear,” he tells you, his tone still abundant of affection and you almost want to scoff at him but you hold your tongue. This is not the time nor the place. No need to cause a scene before his loyal devotees.

He gestures you to stare ahead to the endless arrays of followers who still kneel before the two of you, filling the grand hall to the very brim. Nameless faces who continue to chant that fucking mantra like they actually believe in his cause but you know the truth. Many either join him out of obligation or something rather, something that aligns more with their agendas. Suda and Miguel are the only ones standing and Suda has her gaze averted elsewhere, like she can’t live with this.

“May everyone bear witness the bond between the worthy,” Geto bellows to the crowd as they all raise their heads in unison and cheer for all present for the ritual to hear. “Kneel before her. Pray to her now. For as long as she is by my side, she is a Goddess.”

His hand reaches out to brush your cheek with his knuckles. His expression melds into a soft one, and those sharp violet eyes flicker with something else—something almost human, the most human you’ve ever seen from someone who declares himself a deity, a pseudo-religious figure to a world outside of yours you still cannot wholly fathom. He must pity your lack of understanding but he hopes to bring you into his world, into this new world order where only pure sorcerers reign across Japan. Is Japan the only country he hopes to conquer?

The existence of sorcerers outside of Japan are rare; the existence of sorcerers altogether is rare—you’re from outside the country as is Miguel—but you’re dumbfounded by his spiel even still. None of it adds up. There has to be something you’re missing that’s just beyond what he preaches to his followers.

You just aren’t sure what that is.

“It wasn’t fate but chance that I met such a perfect specimen of woman,” he breathes, pecking your forehead in a shocking tender way. Such a goddamn mockery of what love should be, yet he believes fully in his feelings for you. You know better than to think he has any reason or logic behind anything he does or says. “You are now betrothed to me, as my Queen.”

What might have been a dream come true for any other woman in the world is nothing more than a cruel insult or joke to you. A wave of disgust overwhelms you, rearranging your insides like stew, and you find yourself clutching at your stomach as you fight back the tears threatening to spill from your exhausted eyes. The concealer Suda has used for your bridal makeup does wonders on concealing the deep dark eyebags.

You have never hated your very existence more than in this moment. There’s still another ritual to fulfill the following morning. A reception of sorts. A large feast. Geto showing you off to his lowly monkey followers like you’re some shiny beautiful object to him.

Suddenly you hear the sound of a classic band from the back of the room. The banging against Taiko drums drones through the room, soon accompanied by other traditional instruments. Geto leads you to a an empty area of the room, leading you into a slow dance.

It’s difficult to maneuver in a kimono but you follow his lead, your eyes never leaving his as there’s a layer of tenderness in them that takes your breath away for real this time. Your breath catches in your throat as he twirls you around before pulling you back into him. You’re engulfed in the heat from his body; you shiver under the weight of his affectionate gaze that feels so much more like a mockery to what a union between two souls should be. If he really believes this is real then you remember there’s nothing you can do to change his mind.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to work with this.

The music keeps at a slowed, even tempo as he guides you across the floor. You ignore the endless stares from his devotees, some still chanting that fucking mantra as he focuses on you. His hands slide lower to rest on your waist, twisting you away from the observers’ direct view like he’s trying to protect you from their scrutiny.

“I love you,” Geto calls to you again and your head snaps up to meet his gaze, still shockingly tender. Those violet eyes still glimmer with that intensity but it’s softer, affectionate. Gentle. All the things he’s so, so far from in your book. He tilts your head upward with two slender fingers tucked beneath your chin and you hold your composure the best that you can—fearful of causing a scene in front of all of his ‘subjects.’ “I adore you. Let’s retire for the day. We should eat at that banquet they’ve prepared for us and rest up for tomorrow.”

You glance away, a tear escaping your left eye. “O-okay…”

He wipes away the stray tear, tutting at your reluctance.

“A life with me is better than a life in that circus out there,” he hisses under his breath, words only you’re meant to hear. “Trust me. You’ll come to find this is a blessing in disguise, one day.”

That day may never come. However, you do pick up on something floating above him. A much clearer image of a curse, a small one resembling a rodent hovering just above Geto’s head.

This is the first time you’re ever able to see one even if your vision is still a bit faint, and suddenly you have to fight back the twitching of your lips as realization dawns upon you.

This is the seed that’s planted—your ticket out of there. Now all that’s left is to set everything in motion.

[qunaributts]

Just wanted you to know I appreciate the tags on your boy. I see them every time you reblog him and it makes me smile every time <3 so glad you like him so much

I love him with my whole heart! I'm always so impressed when I look at him, can't believe you felted all of his little spines. I could gush for a while about all the little details tbh. The thing that impresses me the most is pose and proportion and all of the shapes which are all just so natural (which feels weird to say, but I've done a few felting projects and getting shapes to look and flow right while also being distinct is something I struggled with, so I admire how you did it!!).

Also he has his little front feet crossed in the same way our cat crosses her paws when she sits in her hammock, which is just a silly little detail that I love so much.

[frogs-crackcorner]

It's nearly one am when Simon stumbles out of the bar. The team was in Berlin for an operation but they had wrapped that up yesterday. Their flight home wasn't scheduled till the next day so they had decided to enjoy the sights and activities. And you can't visit the beer capital of the world without getting a pint, Soap had pointed out. So they stopped by the pub. One pint turned into two, two turned into three. Now he was, staggering down the streets of Berlin with only one goal in mind.

He needed to get home to the missus.

Simon didn't get very far away from the bar before Soap noticed his absence. Soap gently steers him back to the bar. Simon loosely swats at him.

"She'll be u'set if 'm naw home," Simon slurs at him. Soap chuckles and nods.

"I know. But you canny just waltz out on us," he says, pushing Simon into a seat. Simon huffs and begins to stand again, wobbling just a bit.

"Sit yer ass down. We'll call the missus, right?", Soap offers. After fumbling his phone for a minute and trying to get the password typed in, Soap helps Simon call you.

"Hi, honey. How is it going?", your voice rings through the phone. Simon gives you a drunken grin.

" 'llo love," he slurs. You giggle at his love drunk expression.

"Hi baby. Had a bit to drink?," you chuckle.

"He near tried to walk himself home," Soap shouts to you. You laugh harder. Simon wrinkles his nose at Soap, still displeased with being kept there.

" 'm sorry, love. I won't be home in time for dinner," he rumbles. He looks so sad. Big brown eyes staring down at the phone, lip poked out in a small pout. You wipe a tear of laughter from your eye.

"Oh honey, I think it's past dinner time."

[dangoulains-devotion]

every time I have to wade through inane ship wars where people are willfully ignorant to the depth and facets of cloud strife's character, circumstance, and story just so I can find some cool screenshots or fanart my 'cloud is ace' agenda simply grows more potent out of spite

[imaginedisish]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life. 

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.  

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind. 

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway. 

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying. 

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down. 

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle. 

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.” 

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.  

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh. 

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back. 

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway. 

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs. 

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance. 

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering. 

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself. 

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you. 

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin. 

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it. 

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.” 

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.” 

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something. 

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile. 

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell. 

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall. 

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies. 

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest. 

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!” 

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth. 

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine. 

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you. 

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist. 

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest. 

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.   

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. 

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him. 

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter. 

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say. 

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes. 

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—” 

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.” 

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.” 

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.” 

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down. 

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck.  You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum. 

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. 

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.  You, you think. 

“Me?” What? 

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.  

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours. 

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing. 

Everything is him. Logan. 

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you. 

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.  

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him. 

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.” 

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way. 

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other. 

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest. 

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower. 

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass. 

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.” 

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes. 

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core. 

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.” 

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit. 

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement. 

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt. 

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out. 

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again. 

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly. 

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.” 

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good. 

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper. 

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you. 

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air. 

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence. 

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.” 

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  

[amiableness]

Little Lies

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Summary: James asks Sirius and Y/n to pretend to date after he blurts out they are to Lily.

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: smut 18+, male masturbation, oral fem receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (pls be so careful!), reader wears a bikini top, and jealousy

A/N 💌 Hope you all enjoy this; it's been my baby for a while!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I may have severely fucked up.” James sighs, his features tight with guilt as he stands before you. His chest is heaving like he has run all the way to you—it’s a likely theory.

Remus glances up from beside you; the two of you had been buried in your homework in the common room when James came racing in. He’s disappointed that James has disrupted the productive atmosphere. There’s no way that you or Remus will be continuing to work on your essays.

His admission doesn’t surprise you; James has come to you countless times seeking assistance after making a mistake. Being best friends since you were born, you’ve grown accustomed to being the one to untangle his messes.

Your parents were best friends, which meant that you and James were also raised to be. There wasn’t a memory that you could recall that James wasn’t in. It ended up working; to both of your mum’s excitement, you and James were inseparable. As the levelheaded one between you, you often found yourself trailing after James, tasked with picking up the pieces.

It was in the aftermath of pranks spiraling out of control, times when he impulsively voiced things he really shouldn’t have, or instances when he procrastinated excessively on his work, inevitably turning to you for help with his essays. Surprisingly, it’s become almost amusing to you, a reliable routine in your friendship.

You undeniably held the title of James Potter’s best friend.

Your eyes narrow skeptically, folding your arms over your chest, “Define severely.”

His demeanor turns sheepish as he nervously rubs the back of his neck, his gaze drifting away from you. He looks incredibly uncomfortable, “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“You’re not starting off strong.” You snark, an amused smile finding its way onto your lips. Remus chuckles next to you.

“Y/n.” James sighs, his expression urging you to stop your teasing.

“James.” You mimic.

He shoots you a glare, eyes narrowed in mock irritation, “Lily and I were chatting, like really chatting,” He begins, sighing obnoxiously as he settles into the chair opposite you, his expression a grimace. “She told me why she hasn’t taken me seriously when I flirt with her.”

You pause, confusion etching into your features, “And where exactly did you severely fuck up?”

"She thought we were a couple." He says, his hands gesturing wildly between the two of you, his expression a mix of incredulity and amusement. "Can you believe that? You and me?”

You can believe that, actually. You and James have been mistaken for a couple more times than you can count. Even your parents were convinced the two of you would end up together. While you had told them it wasn’t going to happen, you were convinced they were still holding out hope.

You furrow your brows as you watch him a tad uneasy, “Okay, and where did you severely fuck up in this?”

“I panicked, okay?” James looks guilty when he blurts this out. He nearly shouts it, and Remus hushes him. “She said it wasn’t fair for me to flirt with her because of you. She didn’t want your feelings to be hurt and wouldn’t listen when I said we were just friends. And I panicked.”

“Mate, get to the bloody point.” Remus huffs out, tired of James dragging out the story. Nothing bothered Remus more than when James or Sirius took an eternity to get to the point of their story.

“I told her you’re dating Sirius.” James grimaces, shifting nervously.

“What?” You hiss, your palms smacking onto the table, causing James to flinch, “Have you taken too many hits to the head? James, we are not dating!”

James protests, panicking, "But Lily doesn't know that! If you two could just pretend-"

"No, absolutely not! That is going too far." You snap, sending James a frustrated look, while Remus is chuckling to himself next to you.

"Y/n, please. This could be it! My chance with Lily!" James pleads. He’s desperate to try and salvage the plan he had put all his hopes on.

"Starting your new relationship with a lie, are we?" You snap, massaging at your temples. Most of the stress is from spending too many hours studying, but James is undoubtedly making it worse.

James shrugs, a mischievous smirk starting to form, "Well, not really. You and Sirius already flirt a lot. It’s not that far off from the truth."

James was well aware of your feelings for Sirius; he had watched how you nervously stumbled over your words the first day you met Sirius. He had never seen you like that before, eyes lit up with inflation at first glance.

While he occasionally teased you about it, he understood that what you felt for Sirius was deeper than just a crush. Though you would never admit it out loud.

Your frustration grows, "It absolutely is far off from the truth. Lily probably didn’t even believe you! There's no evidence for her to believe the idea that we are together.” You cry, disbelief evident in your voice. James's casual attitude only adds to your frustration. He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

Remus interjects, an amused scoff escaping him, “There's evidence to believe it."

"Are you joking?" You deadpan, your voice full of incredulity. Remus sends you a teasing smirk. He considers how Sirius flirts with you more than anyone else, but he doesn’t want to deal with Sirius furious at him.

Ever since you met Sirius, you have had a crush on him. Realistically, you knew it was pointless; Sirius had a fan club of admirers. So, you counted yourself lucky that you were one of his closest friends. Being his friend was manageable, and quite honestly, kept your expectations in check.

But Sirius acting like he had feelings for you? You wouldn’t handle that well.

James interjects, "Lily believed it. She even said she wasn't surprised."

"But she thought you and I were together?" You ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Your tone was snippier than you intended, but you could feel the stress building. The mere thought of pretending to be with Sirius made you feel nauseous.

"She might've just been jealous, wanting to know if you had feelings for James before she finally goes for him." Remus says casually, and James' eyes light up in excitement.

James is positively giddy as he leans forward, “You think she was jealous?”

"Does Sirius even know?" You interrupt, catching James's eye. He glances at Remus, clearly hoping to hear more about Lily’s supposed jealousy.

James shakes his head, and you scoff, opening your mouth to enlighten James on why you think this is a bad idea. Before you can say anything, Remus cuts you off, “Here’s your chance to tell him.”

You glance up to see Sirius walking through the library, and you resist letting out a lovesick sigh at how effortlessly handsome he is.

Your stomach plummets at the sight of a stunning girl effortlessly chatting with him. His laughter rings out, causing unease to settle in your stomach.

If he was close enough, you probably would’ve tried to eavesdrop.

Despite not knowing her name, you know she’s a Gryffindor; you’ve seen her in the common room. James nudges you, and when you glance at him, he sends you a knowing look.

"Glad to see you guys are having study dates without Peter and me." Sirius calls, settling into the seat next to James and patting him on the shoulder in greeting.

Relief washes over you as you notice that the girl who was with him a second ago is long gone. He glances over at you, and pauses in surprise at your disgruntled expression, "You okay?"

Remus chuckles at the question, finding the harsh look you shoot James hilarious. It’s clear that he’s finding this entire situation entertaining.

“Ask James about what he told Lily.” You say, voice strained with irritation. James sends Sirius a nervous smile, and Sirius looks at him oddly.

"What'd you do?"

Sirius asks, his eyes darting back to you, taking note of your frustrated expression. Your stomach tightens with nerves, scared of Sirius’ reaction. Remus leans back in his chair, excited to see how this will all play out.

"Lily and I were talking today," James sighs, "and she wouldn't stop going on about how she thinks Y/n is in love with me and that it's not fair for me to flirt with her because I could be hurting her."

"She thinks I'm in love with you?" You shriek, oblivious to the barely visible flinch on Sirius' face at James' words. Remus catches it, his grin getting bigger.

James ignores you, “Anyways, I said that it’s not a problem because you and Y/n are dating.” James finishes cautiously, his gaze locked on Sirius, curious for his reaction. Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes fixed intently on Sirius, awaiting his reaction as well.

"You told Lily that Y/n's my girl?" Sirius inquires casually, causing your stomach to somersault at his words. You force yourself to focus on James instead of the warmth creeping into your skin.

"I panicked, and that's what came out. So, if you guys could pretend you're madly in love, that would be great!" James claps his hands together, and you feel the urge to wack him. You're prepared to snap at him, to explain why asking this of you both isn’t right.

But then Sirius shrugs, "Sure, shouldn't be too hard, right, sweet girl?" He says, and your legs feel like jelly.

You're floundering, not having expected Sirius to agree. He’s never maintained a steady relationship, so pretending that he’s dating you is a big ask. His agreement sends your mind spiraling with different scenarios. For a brief second, you wonder if he agrees so easily because he has feelings for you. But you quickly shut down that thought.

You’re delusional. You truly are.

"Sure, that shouldn't be too bad." You agree, hoping you appear casual about this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"I need you two to amp it up. Lily is eating breakfast with us today." James directs, causing you to glance up from your breakfast, disbelief etched into your features. He takes a bite of bacon and casually observes you as though his request is perfectly normal.

"We've switched spots, is that not enough for you?" You ask sarcastically, and Remus shakes his head, wearing an entertained smile as he continues eating breakfast. He can tell you're panicking about pretending to be with Sirius; it’s painfully obvious to everyone at the table.

You're usually seated between James and Peter, but when you attempted to slide into the seat this morning, James slammed his hand down on the seat and instructed you to sit next to your boyfriend, wearing a smug smile. Peter snorted softly but quickly replaced it with a sympathetic smile, silently apologizing for his reaction.

"I mean, we all know Sirius is into PDA, and you look terrified to even be sitting next to him." Peter points out, and you find yourself scrabbling.

Were you two supposed to be super affectionate? Would Sirius find it weird if you initiated it? Questions are flooding your mind leaving you feeling overwhelmed.

"I am not terrified. I just don’t know how to act." You insist.

"Act like you’re in love with him; it shouldn’t be too hard, right?" James quips, earning a glare from you. He responds with a playful wink.

"The boys are right. You need to sit closer to me.” Sirius declares as his arm slips around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You squeak his name in surprise, flustered at how easily he moves you. The boys chuckle at your bewildered expression, finding your embarrassment hilarious.

You feel disappointed when he releases you. Even more so when he doesn't pull you flush against him. Instead, your shoulder to shoulder, the distance between you both feeling more pronounced than ever.

"I'm still waiting on the PDA." Remus says with a playful smirk; his eyes are full of mischief when you glance at him.

You elbow Remus in the side, and he playfully nudges you back, causing you to bump into Sirius' side. Sirius surprises you by wrapping his arm around you, keeping you against him while playfully calling out, "Oi, back off, mate." Being pressed against his side causes warmth to spread through you as you lean further into him.

James watches as Sirius's cheeks flush, a soft smile on his face as he gazes down at you. You appear flustered but content, being so close to him, and James can't help but grin at the two of you.

"We're not going to be all over each other." You say, attempting to distract yourself from the fact that you’re pushed up against Sirius.

"Why not?" James leans forward with a grin, clearly finding everything about this entertaining. “That is what most couples do. Plus, Sirius openly flirts with everyone. But he won’t kiss his own girlfriend? It’s not believable.”

“Merlin, we should have talked about this last night.” You mumble under your breath, and Sirius chuckles beside you. He's entirely at ease. It doesn’t seem like he has any worries about pretending to be your boyfriend. With that observation, you try not to let your worries spiral out of control.

"Listen, we can do whatever you're comfortable with. If you don't want to kiss, then we don't have to," Sirius tells you gently, "but it would be sort of odd for us not to be somewhat affectionate."

The last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable. But there's a rush of exhilaration at the thought of holding you close and calling you pet names that were once off-limits. And the thought of possibly kissing you?

Surviving that would be inconceivable for him.

"You're right," You nod. “Let's just start off slow. It will be weird if we're all over each other today when we didn’t even sit together yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah! Flirt, be a little touchy, throw some cute pet names in here, will you, Sirius?" James calls out with great enthusiasm. You send him a look that you hope he understands as shut the fuck up. He doesn’t acknowledge your discomfort. Instead, he makes a heart shape with his hands, which adds to your annoyance.

Sirius presses a quick kiss to your temple, “Fuck off, mate. I know how to flirt with my girlfriend, right baby?” You freeze, your eyes widening in disbelief, while the boys laugh at your reaction. How exactly were you supposed to survive this?

You fall into a comfortable silence, happy to enjoy your breakfast as James issues his warnings to the boys, ensuring they behave themselves. Remus, with a subtle eye roll, acknowledges James's words while Peter nods emphatically in agreement. While, Sirius simply outlines every embarrassing memory he plans to share with Lily.

“Y/n, get your man in check.’ James complains in mock irritation, throwing a grape at Sirius, who dodges it.

"Good morning." Lily greets quietly. You all turn to see her approaching, her expression a mix of embarrassment and hesitance, as if she's debating whether to turn around and go to her usual spot down the table.

James abruptly stands up, his hip thumping into the table. He stifles a wince, trying to maintain his composure as he greets Lily, who tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile at his reaction. Remus cringes and turns back to his breakfast, unable to look at James.

"Y'ready for this?" Sirius leans in, his voice lowered to a hushed tone meant only for you, effectively pulling you away from eavesdropping on James and Lily's conversation. You glance up at him, surprised to find you’re a mere inches away from him.

You're so close that you could individually count each of his eyelashes if you wanted.

You still feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, creating an intimate connection between the both of you.

It feels like a magnetic pull draws you closer, tempting you to tilt your head forward and touch his lips with yours. The urge to kiss him is so strong that it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

You clear your throat, attempting to push the thought from your mind. "I think so. We're newly dating, so don't go overboard with it." You remind him, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

“When have I ever gone overboard with anything in my life?” The smile he gives you is teasing, and it makes your heart pound to have him this close, his eyes sparkling as he smiles at you.

You hum softly in response, “I can think of quite a few times.”

His voice carries a flirtatious tone, “Can you?”

“Good morning, Lily.” Peter's gentle voice steals your attention away from Sirius. Disappointment and longing settle in his stomach as he watches you pull away and turn to greet Lily, that sweet smile now directed at her.

Lily settles between Peter and James. For a quick second, you feel a pang of jealousy because that's your spot. But when you notice James's pink cheeks and flustered expression, you forget all about it. All you want for James is for him to be happy, and having Lily near seems to do just that.

Breakfast goes smoothly. Lily fits seamlessly into your group, and you can tell it makes James giddy. He doesn't even mind not getting to talk to Lily much. He simply enjoys seeing the girl he's so hopelessly infatuated with getting along so well with his best friends.

You and Sirius aren't acting much differently than you normally do, just sitting close to each other and chatting. However, when Lily turns to you and Sirius, a wave of nervousness washes over you.

“I was so excited to hear you guys were together!”

"Oh yeah? So you can finally go for James with a clear conscience?" Sirius grins, teasing Lily, who looks thoroughly embarrassed. You nudge Sirius in the side, and he responds by giving your hip a gentle squeeze. James sends Sirius an incredulous look, which he pointedly ignores. While Remus and Peter chuckle at the playful banter.

Lily tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and clears her throat; her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. "Uh, no, just that you two have obviously had feelings for each other for years. Everyone knew."

You're at a loss for words. Is that really what people thought? Clearly, they read you right, but you weren’t sure what to think about Sirius having feelings for you. Maybe he did, or maybe they were mistaking it for how he constantly flirted with you. But that was just how Sirius was; it didn’t necessarily mean he had romantic feelings for you.

"Haven't gotten her out of my head since the day I met her." Sirius says casually, his right elbow resting on the table as he pops a piece of bacon into his mouth. His other arm remains securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his side with a gentle yet firm embrace.

You look at him in shock, your eyes widening at his unexpected confession. Even the boys look slightly startled at Sirius' words, their eyes darting between you and him.

“That’s so sweet.” Lily says softly, her eyes glowing with genuine happiness as she sends you a warm smile. The sight tugs at your heartstrings but also stirs up guilt in the pit of your stomach. Lying always made you feel uneasy like a weight was pressing down on your chest.

"Sirius, I can't believe you thought that she—" Lily begins, her voice trailing off as James interjects, his interruption tinged with a hint of urgency.

"Okay, love! I think I should walk you to class, don't y' think?" James stands up from the table, extending his hand towards Lily.

Lily looks slightly confused, but she takes his hand nonetheless. As they walk away, James glances back and sends a wink in Sirius' direction. Your attention immediately shifts to Sirius, curiosity written all over your face as you’re about to ask about Lily's interrupted comment.

Sirius cuts you off before you can ask, shaking his head with a gentle smile and flushed cheeks, "Don't even bother asking; I’m not telling you what she was talking about.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re curled up next to Peter on the common room couch, both of you chatting quietly together. For the last twenty minutes, he has been feeding you details about the Ravenclaw girl he has a crush on. He's sworn you to secrecy. Hoping for your advice on asking her out without enduring the teasing of the rest of the Marauders. Your gasp of excitement nearly gives away the secret, but you quickly compose yourself, offering a reassuring smile to Peter.

"Who is she?" You ask, excitement laced in your voice, but Peter sends you an apprehensive look.

"I'm going to keep that to myself. Your squeal almost let the boys know.." He teases, though his tone also carries a note of seriousness.

A laugh escapes you, "I promise when you’re ready to tell me I’ll be so careful about keeping it a secret."

"Oi! Are you two sharing secrets over there?" James calls out, his voice immensely curious. He’s sat with his back to the flickering flames, his palms flat against the floor as he leans back on them. Peter tenses beside you, but you maintain an easy smile. Remus and Sirius are lounging in the armchairs nearby, their attention piqued by the exchange.

"All my deepest darkest secrets." You tease, flashing James a grin. He furrows his brow and sits up, clearly riled up by your response.

“Y/n, as your best friend, I better know all these secrets.” James lips are pouted, his expression tinged with a hint of concern, as if he's genuinely worried that you and Peter are sharing secrets that he doesn’t know.

James has always been fiercely protective of your friendship. Despite being close to the boys, your bond with James was stronger. There was nothing that the two of you didn't confide in each other; he honestly did know all your secrets.

“You do.” You smile reassuringly, and James's expression breaks into a satisfied grin.

The boys continue their soft conversation by the crackling fire, the warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room, while you and Peter sit in comfortable silence. Both of you are lost in thought as you relax in the cozy atmosphere.

After stifling a good five yawns, you glance at the time and decide it's probably best to head to your room, the quiet of the common room signaling just how late it had gotten.

You inch closer to Peter, before finding the courage to lean over and envelop him in a friendly hug, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He's momentarily taken aback, his body tenses at your touch, but soon he relaxes, reciprocating by wrapping you in his arms. It's a gesture that feels somewhat out of character for you, but after he trusted you with his secret, it seems like the most natural thing to do, a silent affirmation of support for him.

"I think I'm going to go to bed." You tell him softly, "But I promise we'll talk more tomorrow."

“I’d like that.” He smiles at you as you pull away. You grab your bag and make your way in the direction of the stairs.

“Goodnight boys!” You call out softly over your shoulder before disappearing up the stairs. Sirius watches you go, his gaze lingering on your figure, his thoughts full of you long after you've left the room.

Ever since you moved to hug Peter, his eyes have been on you, curiosity and jealousy settling in his stomach.

"Why the hell did you get a hug?" Sirius asks, his tone laced with bitterness as his gaze shifts to Peter, who appears taken aback by Sirius’ sudden question. Remus and James exchange amused glances, before they refocus their attention on Peter, waiting expectantly for an explanation to ease the tension.

“I don’t know, she just hugged me.” Peter squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his confidence quickly dwindling as he's put on the spot.

Sirius nods slowly, his lips pursing in contemplation. His carefully measured tone betrays the longing and a hint of possessiveness that he struggles to conceal, "What were you guys talking about over there?"

Remus interjects with a teasing tone, "Careful, Pads. You sound jealous." A playful glint dances in his eyes as he notices Sirius' furrowed brows and the discontent on his face.

“He’s got the boyfriend role down.” James quips, and Sirius sends them both a glare.

“I’m not jealous,” Sirius repeats quite grumpily. “I just don’t understand why Peter got a hug, and we didn’t.”

James barks out a laugh while Remus shakes his head, a chuckle escaping him in sheer disbelief.

"You're jealous because you have feelings for her." James states matter-of-factly.

Sirius begins to shake his head in denial, but Remus promptly interjects, his voice firm and unwavering, "’Haven't gotten her out of my head since the day I met her.’ What the fuck was that then?” Remus repeats Sirius’ words from the other day, perfectly mimicking his tone.

James bursts into laughter, the sound hearty and infectious, while Peter offers a small smile, observing Sirius as he struggles to respond.

“Not to mention, you’ve been staring Peter down ever since Y/n touched him.” Remus remarks while Sirius gazes blankly at him, his expression unreadable as he nervously chews on his bottom lip.

“You really have.” Peter adds with a grimace.

“You like her, mate.” Remus concludes, his words carrying a sense of finality that lingers in the air.

Sirius sighs heavily.

The conversation weighs heavily on him as he sinks down in the armchair, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The boys’ words replay in his mind. He was jealous, and he did like you. He already knew all of this. But he had always been cautious around you, mindful of the unspoken boundaries because of your friendship with James. A nagging worry in the back of his mind that James would be against any relationship between the two of you. James was his greatest friend, and he worried he could lose him if he attempted to go for you. The idea of James being unfazed by a romantic relationship between you and Sirius threw him off balance. It vastly differed from the scenarios he had envisioned, where James would react with fierce anger upon learning of Sirius' affection for you. The realization left Sirius feeling torn. Did that mean he could actually go for you?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the air is warm and balmy, birdsong emanating from the trees while the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. The sun casts everything in a golden haze, letting you know summer is near. The boys are certain of their decision: today is the perfect day to spend at the lake.

Laughter and chatter echo across the shimmering waters as the boys swim around the lake, reaching where you’re draped over a soft towel next to Lily. You have been trading gossip back and forth for the last couple of hours. It’s refreshing since usually you’re glued to the boys’ sides. You were constantly in the company of at least one of the four.

You feel a twinge of regret in your chest, realizing you haven't made an effort to have a close friendship with the girls. And you really should have. It wasn't a deliberate choice; James had always been your go-to person. Then, when you met the boys, you naturally formed close bonds with them, too. The thought of branching out and making more friends never really crossed your mind.

Though you value your friendships with the boys, you decide you desperately need to spend more time with the girls. The possibility of James and Lily getting together has you hopeful.

“You realize Sirius can’t take his eyes off you, right?” You choose to remain silent, only giving a shrug, fully aware that Sirius is merely pretending to be in love with you. To his credit, he's played the part convincingly throughout the entire week. There have been moments when you've found yourself questioning the authenticity of his actions, wondering whether his affection is genuine or merely his acting skills.

For someone who hasn’t had much practice with relationships, he possessed an innate ability to treat you like you were the only girl in his world. Whether it was a reassuring hand on your lower back as you maneuvered through the crowded halls, a tender kiss planted on your forehead when you parted ways, or the subtle exchange of flirty smiles whenever your eyes met across the room.

Sirius' laughter drifts over from the lake, reaching your ears, and a subconscious smile graces your lips. Lily must have seen your reaction, “Merlin, you really like him, don’t you?”

It was driving you to the brink of obsession. If this was the experience of being Sirius' girl, you wanted it more than before.

Despite your efforts to contain it, a sigh slips from your lips, "Yeah, I really do."

Confessing this feels uncomfortable. You've never talked to anyone about the depth of your feelings for Sirius, and now you're doing so under the guise of a fake relationship. You had come close to telling James, but you really didn’t need to. He had an uncanny ability to read you like an open book. Guilt churns in your stomach once more as you think about lying to Lily. What will her reaction be when you reveal that you and Sirius were never actually together?

The silence lingers for a few moments before you gently break it, "What were you about to say at breakfast the other day? Before James interrupted?"

Lily's expression shifts from confusion to excitement, her eyes lighting up, “Oh, in Charms! I finally wrangled it out of Sirius that he had feelings for you. But he insisted that nothing was ever going to happen because you didn’t like him back.”

It feels like you've been plunged into a tub of cold water. Your mind goes momentarily blank, a surge of disbelief flooding your senses as you struggle to comprehend Lily's words. Your body freezes in place, grappling with what this could possibly mean. There’s no possible way you heard her correctly.

“What? When was this?” Your voice escapes breathless and startled, yet Lily appears oblivious to it.

“Just a couple of weeks ago! I’m so glad he finally told you how he felt.” Lily smiles sweetly before laying back on her towel. If she notices you’re in a state of shock, she doesn’t say anything.

You hear a whistle, and no surprise, your best friend throws himself between you and Lily, “Don’t you two look pretty!”

Lily gasps as James leans down, playfully pressing his lips against her cheek, his hair dripping water onto her. Though she protests, you both can tell she doesn't truly mind it.

As James and Lily become wrapped up in their own world, you find yourself drifting back to the conversation from a moment ago. Your mind spins, still muddled by Lily's words. Sirius had feelings for you. Why hadn't he spoken up? Did he not want anything to come of it?

Your heart nearly stops when Sirius drops down and hovers over you, his hands propping him up on either side of your head. You barely register that he's shirtless and above you just before icy water cascades from his hair onto your skin. A startled cry escapes you as the cold droplets trickle down your cheeks, tracing a chilling path along your neck and chest.

“Sirius Black!” You had intended to sound angry, but laughter slips past your lips, betraying your emotions. Sirius grins at your reaction, his eyes trailing down from your eyes to shamelessly check out the bikini top you have on.

The boys had been teasing him relentlessly after witnessing how he practically fell to his knees when you walked into the common room wearing a bikini top and tiny denim shorts. You were oblivious to his gaze, heading straight for Lily and conversing about who knows what.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from you all day.

He feigns ignorance as you whine at him, responding with a sweet smile instead, “What, sweet girl?”

"Get off!" You squeal, though your tone lacks any real irritation. Deep down, you’re secretly enjoying having him so close, enveloping you in his presence.

“Whatever you want, sweet girl.” He mutters as he rolls off of you, repositioning himself so he's sitting behind you. With a gentle tap on your shoulder, he prompts you to sit up, then guides you until your back hits his chest. Once you're settled, he loosely wraps his arms around your shoulders before placing a kiss on your head.

Remus catches your eye as he and Peter make their way to their towels. Unlike Sirius and James, they hadn't hurried over to you and Lily. Instead, they took their time, chatting lazily while the sun warmed their skin. Remus sends you a sly, suggestive glance, and you respond by narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

Sirius and Remus engage in their own conversation, their voices blending into the background as Peter gestures for you to follow him. Sirius protests lightly, his eyes following you as you pull away from him to walk down to the lake with Peter.

You're gone for no more than twenty minutes, offering Peter advice on establishing a friendship with the girl he likes, perhaps making it easier for him to ask her out in the future.

Despite Remus' attempts to draw him back into the conversation, Sirius remains preoccupied, his gaze fixed on you until you eventually return and settle onto the towel beside him, seeking the familiar comfort of his presence. Only then does Sirius relax, draping his arm around you protectively.

He despises the twinge of jealousy that creeps in every time Peter has you to himself.

“Mate, you’re fucked.” Remus chuckles, and you assume it's due to something amusing said during their conversation. Sirius simply rolls his eyes and playfully extends his middle finger in Remus' direction, a gesture of mock annoyance that elicits a smirk from both of them.

The rest of the afternoon is spent wrapped up in Sirius as you chat with your friends and bask in the sun.

You spend the remainder of the afternoon draped over Sirius, basking in the warmth of the sun as you chat with your friends. It's been a while since you've felt so at ease.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After lounging by the lake all afternoon, the thought of cleaning up for a party you had little interest in attending felt like an unnecessary chore. However, after an hour of James' persistent pleading, you eventually gave in and agreed to go. You were confused about why he insisted on your presence, especially when he'd be busy spending the evening with Lily. You couldn't help but think you could have been snug in bed with a good book instead.

“How long do you think it will take before they get together?” You turn to Remus, who is leaning against the wall next to you. He wasn't thrilled about coming tonight, either. The full moon was approaching, and he could already feel the effects beginning to take hold.

You scan the bustling room, eager to catch a glimpse of James and determine Lily's proximity. Impatience simmers within you as you wait for them to get together. Their relationship seems overdue, and you’re desperate for it to happen, bringing an end to the relationship you and Sirius are forced to maintain. Though being Sirius' girlfriend has its perks, the artificiality of the situation weighs on your conscience.

After a lazy afternoon enveloped in Sirius' arms, you had returned to your room feeling unsettled. The comfort of being held by Sirius felt genuine, yet it was all fake, and that realization deeply unsettles you. The longer this relationship goes on, the more you worry about your heart being left in pieces at the end.

“Probably any day now. Why? You aren’t having fun being Sirius’ girl?” Remus asks, casting a knowing smirk in your direction. You huff and give him a playful nudge, causing his drink to slosh around in his cup. He chuckles in response, amused by your reaction.

"It's not that, and you know it." You respond, frustration evident in your tone.

Remus turns towards you, a genuine smile on his face this time, "You guys are doing quite the job of looking infatuated with each other."

You shoot him a warning look, sensing where the conversation is headed.

But Remus persists, his gaze steady, "You should consider telling him how you feel."

You scoff. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? What have you got to lose?"

You meet his gaze, incredulous, "Our friendship, for starters."

Remus shakes his head, "Do you really think Sirius would end your friendship? I doubt you could get rid of him if you tried."

You meet Remus's gaze, your brow furrowed with uncertainty, "Okay, maybe he wouldn't end our friendship. But things would definitely get awkward, and who knows where it could lead."

Remus offers a small smile, "Or it could go well. You could end up together."

You remain silent, the weight of Remus's words sinking in as you contemplate the idea of confessing your feelings to Sirius. Your stomach churns with anxiety at the mere thought of opening up to him. The fear of rejection and the potential fallout from confessing weighs heavy on your chest.

But Lily had shared with you that Sirius had opened up about his feelings for you. Maybe there was a possibility that confessing your own feelings might not be as far-fetched as you had assumed. Maybe being with Sirius wasn't entirely out of reach.

Remus observes the slight furrow in your brow as you chew on your bottom lip, a clear indication of your spiraling thoughts. The dim light of the common room highlights the unease on your face. "Do you want a drink?" He offers, his voice gentle and reassuring.

You pause, considering his offer, grateful for the distraction, "Yes, please." You respond with a small smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

As Remus leaves to fetch you a drink, you're left alone with your thoughts, the chatter and laughter of the crowded common room serving as a backdrop to your contemplation. Your eyes wander over the sea of bodies, each occupied with their own conversations and activities, creating a lively yet chaotic atmosphere.

“Y/n, hi!” You startle as Max Townsend stands beside you, his sudden presence catching you off guard. You recall being partners in Charms a couple of weeks ago, but beyond that, your interactions had been limited.

"Hey, Max." You greet with a soft smile, noticing how his shoulders relax slightly at your acknowledgment. He settles against the wall, his posture casual yet attentive, as if genuinely interested in chatting with you.

"I know we haven’t talked much since Charms, but I’ve been meaning to catch up with you." Max says, his voice earnest as he breaks the silence between you.

You're surprised by his remark, "You have?" You ask, genuine curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah! I enjoyed spending time with you." Max admits, his voice slightly shaky as he offers you a shy smile. You notice the faint blush coloring his cheeks, a sign of nervousness.

"I enjoyed spending time with you too! I don’t think I could have passed the last exam without your help." You respond sincerely, returning his smile with warmth. His face lights up at your words, visibly relieved.

He regains some confidence and continues, "Actually, Y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade sometime?"

Your smile falters, and you feel a pang of guilt. You have the excuse of having a boyfriend, at least. It makes things a little easier for you. For a second, you debate if you should say yes, go on a date, and move past your feelings for Sirius. But then you think about Lily‘s words and how he might possibly like you back. Not only that but you’re supposed to be in a relationship right now.

You can't bring yourself to say yes; truth be told, you don't really want to, anyway.

"That’s really sweet of you to ask. But I’m dating Sirius." You reply though the words feel heavy on your tongue, wishing they were true.

Max looks taken aback, "Sirius Black?"

"Yes." You confirm, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over you; turning someone down is always an awkward and uncomfortable experience.

Max shakes his head, looking confused, "I didn’t know Sirius-"

"You didn’t know what, Townsend?" Sirius looks hard at him, slipping his arm around your waist and handing you a drink. "Here, baby, Rem said you wanted a drink."

You thank him quietly, settling into his side with ease. Glancing up at him, you notice Sirius isn't looking at you; his gaze is fixed on Max. His jaw clenches tightly, and his usual friendly smile is absent. The message to Max is clear: back off, she's mine.

Max looks uneasy, eyes darting from you to Sirius, “Uh, I didn’t know you and Y/n were together.”

“And why were you talking about that?”

“Uh,” Max looks at you briefly, his expression tinged with panic. He lets out a sigh, reminiscent of a child caught in the act and resigned to confessing. “I asked her out.”

Sirius' entire body tenses, his tone laced with mock curiosity, “Did you?”

He feels sick at the thought of you going on a date with another guy. Images flash through his mind – Max holding your hand on a walk through Hogsmeade, flirting with you over dinner, and the possibility of him kissing you goodnight before you head back through the portrait at the end of the night.

A surge of intense emotion floods him, an overwhelming desire to lash out, to throw a punch and convey the unmistakable message that you are off-limits.

But then the reality hits him: you're not off limits. You're perfectly single, and maybe you actually wanted to go out with Max. The realization sinks in, gnawing at him from the inside, intensifying the ache in his chest.

“But look, man, I didn’t know she was your girl! Honest.”

"Max, it's okay. Really." You interject gently, offering him a reassuring smile. Max nods frantically, clearly relieved, before hurrying off in the opposite direction and disappearing into the crowd of Gryffindors.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to Sirius, but he refuses to meet your gaze. Instead, he drops his arm from your waist and leans back against the wall, taking a long sip from his drink, his expression unreadable

“Playing the part of your boyfriend. You should go find James, he was looking for you.” His mutterings reach your ears, and your stomach clenches with irritation as hurt flashes over your features. He's never shut down before you, and it hurts your feelings deeply.

You don’t bother saying anything; instead, you scoff and walk away. Sirius’s eyes follow you the second you leave, watching as you walk away with a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.

Maybe he did need to express his feelings to you. There might be a chance that you felt the same way. And if you didn't, at least he would know and could attempt to move on from you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I think you need to check on Sirius.” James murmurs into your ear as you stand in the common room, waiting for Lily to join you. You're flanked by the boys, but Sirius is conspicuously absent.

You glance over at him, confused, “Why? Is he not coming down?”

“He bailed, said he isn’t feeling good.”

“He isn’t coming to Hogsmeade with us?” You all had meticulously planned your trip to Hogsmeade during the lake outing yesterday, discussing the shops you wanted to visit and the Butterbeer you couldn't wait to taste.

“Oh,” You mutter, “I’ll check on him and catch up with you guys then.”

You still harbor concern for his well-being, a lingering sense of care that remains despite the the frustration you feel about last night. You ascend the stairs, faintly catching Peter's inquiry about your destination and James' response that you won't be joining them anymore. You contemplate turning around, half-tempted to inquire with James about his statement, but decided against it, choosing not to waste your energy.

You're so deeply immersed in your thoughts as you walk through the hall that you don't even notice the sound at first.

The muffled noise filtering through the boys' dorm door catches your attention, causing you to pause in front of the door. You briefly entertain the idea that Sirius might be genuinely unwell, but skepticism lingers in your mind. The persistent groans don't quite fit the pattern of someone who's just sick.

You were on the verge of turning around, genuinely considering it, until you caught a muffled moan that distinctly sounded like your name.

You pause, questioning the authenticity of what you just heard, wondering if it was a figment of your imagination or if you truly heard your name. But then you hear it, “Fuck, Y/n. Feels so good.”

Your legs turn to jelly, the words coursing through your veins like an electric shock, leaving you feeling stunned and breathless.

Without a second thought or even a plan forming in your mind, you find yourself knocking on the door. Inside, you hear a muffled curse followed by shuffling before Sirius swings the door open nearly a minute later, clad only in pajama pants. His hair is tousled, his cheeks flushed, and he's breathing heavily. The surprise on his face is evident as he takes in your unexpected presence.

“What were you just doing?” Your words spill out more confrontationally than you intended, catching Sirius off guard. The surprise flickers across his face, evident in how his eyebrows knit together and his eyes widen slightly.

“Uh, I-” He glances back into his room, searching for a believable excuse among his belongings. Flustered, he struggles to come up with a convincing lie.

"Sirius," You press, and his eyes flicker back to you. He appears guilty, aware that you've caught on. "I just heard you." You add, your tone that is firm but not accusatory.

“Merlin, Y/n. I’m sorry I-” He stammers, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of you possibly feeling disgusted with him or worse, refusing to remain his friend because of what he’s just done.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask instead, taking a deliberate step closer to him. The room feels charged with tension, and you can sense Sirius's unease. His breath hitches as your presence draws nearer, his eyes flickering with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

He glances over your shoulder, his gaze flicking to the empty hallway outside before he answers, “You.”

“Me?” You take a tentative step closer, your voice barely a whisper compared to before, its tone huskier, laden with curiosity and perhaps a hint of intrigue. You fix him with a daring look, a glint of challenge in your eye, as if silently daring him to take action.

He remains silent, his gaze fixed on you for a fleeting moment before he takes action, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the dorm without a word.

As soon as the door shuts, he presses you against the door, his movements swift and urgent. You let out a gasp in surprise, feeling the sudden shift in atmosphere as Sirius's intensity envelops you. His eyes, usually filled with mischief, now bore into yours with a mixture of seriousness and vulnerability.

“Y/n. Why did you knock on the door?”

You don’t answer at first, your eyes locked with his for a few heartbeats before you let out a sigh, “Because I heard you say my name, and now I know you want me the same way that I’ve always wanted you.”

Sirius doesn’t hesitate, his lips meeting yours with a sense of urgency that sends a shiver down your spine. The moment his touch connects with yours, you exhale softly, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. With gentle pressure, you draw him closer, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while Sirius’ embrace envelops you, pulling you closer as if he never wants to let go.

He initiates with a tender kiss on your lips, then gently nibbles on your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp. Seizing the opportunity of your parted lips, he intensifies the kiss, pressing forcefully into your mouth. Sirius kisses you as if each moment is the first and last time, molding you into pliancy. You willingly surrender, allowing him to kiss you into a state of blissful oblivion.

As he withdraws, a soft whimper escapes your lips in protest. He casts a questioning glance your way as he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you respond with a nod of affirmation. Slowly, he peels it off of you and lets it drop at your feet. Shamelessly, he admires your breasts and how they sit so pretty in your black bra. For a moment, the thought of apologizing for the simple garment crosses your mind, but the way his gaze lingers on you halts any inclination to do so.

He leans down, pressing kisses and nipping at the exposed skin on your neck and trailing his way down to your chest. It steals your breath away, prompting you to weave your fingers through his hair as you tilt your head back, reveling in the sensation. He's murmuring praises against your skin, ranting about how beautiful you are, how sweet your moans are, and how you drive him crazy. Your heart pounds within your chest, and for an instant, you fear its thunderous rhythm might betray you, considering how near he stands.

“Take it off.” In a hushed tone, you speak, prompting Sirius's gaze to swiftly rise and lock with yours.

He encircles you with his arms, quickly undoing your bra, and you deftly push the straps down, allowing the garment to cascade down, unveiling your skin. Swiftly, you toss it into the growing pile that appears to be taking shape by the door.

Sirius gazes intently, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, and a subtle furrow forms between his eyebrows, “Fucking hell, y’have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

Before you can utter a word, his mouth is on your breasts. Pressing the softest kisses onto your nipple before gently biting it, causing your breath to hitch. He bends down, mirroring the gesture with the other one.

His hands, possessively grip at your hips, act as anchors, momentarily keeping you in place. However, a growing restlessness takes hold, and you start to squirm, a subtle plea for more of his attention. Silently comprehending your unspoken desire, he wordlessly responds. A gentle tug on your hand is all the communication needed, and without a moment's hesitation, you obediently follow his lead.

Guiding you, he directs you to settle onto his bed, a silent request you readily heed. Your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you rely on your elbows to bear all your weight.

Sirius kneels in front of you, easily slipping off both of your shoes and tossing them to the side. He reaches up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your skirt before tugging it down and off of your legs. You’re left in a pair of gray panties that easily show how soaked you are for him.

He pushes on your knees until your legs are completely spread for him, and he can get a clear view of your soaked underwear. A hushed curse escapes his lips, the words slipping out quietly as his gaze lingers on you.

“You’re fucking stunning. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. To deserve you.” You bask in his words, your body thrumming with warmth and delight as his sweet sentiments wash over you.

He glances up at you, and he nearly loses it right then and there. You’re watching him through hooded eyes, your pupils dilated wide, a silent reflection of your anticipation and desire. He doubts he could ever erase the image of the way you're gazing at him, etching it into his memory with the fervent wish to witness it for the rest of his days.

He caresses his hands along your thighs, fingers gently squeezing and kneading with each pass. Occasionally, he leans down, planting tender kisses on your sensitive skin, each one a whispered promise of affection. The closer he gets to your core, the more you squirm and let out soft whimpers.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, glancing up at you from between your thighs. The pad of his thumb brushes against your clit, and you jolt in surprise.

A gasp escapes your lips as you're overtaken by the sensation, yet swiftly, you find yourself nodding frantically in response, “Please.”

Overrun with desperation, Sirius pulls at them with such fervor that they nearly tear as he tugs them off. You can't help but giggle at his fervor, amused by his frantic actions and the unmistakable look of pure desire written across his face. He wouldn't be surprised if he was drooling, staring the sight of your glistening pussy.

“I want to be inside of you.” He declares, standing up from the floor, leaning over you to firmly grasp your jaw before capturing your lips in a heady, intoxicating kiss. The moan that escapes you sounds so foreign, so unlike yourself, that it catches you by surprise, leaving you momentarily taken aback. You don't bother vying for dominance, allowing him to take control of the kiss. He withdraws from you leaving your chest heaving and breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Take your pants off.” You demand, reaching desperately for the band of his pajamas to shove them off. Sirius beats you to the task, swiftly shoving them off himself in a display of impatience.

“Sirius.” Drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him. Long, thick, and pretty. Your lips part slightly, and you look up at Sirius in surprise, caught off guard by him. For a fleeting moment, you sit there, eyes locked, contemplating whether you'll be able to take him or not. He’s bigger than anyone you have ever been with before.

Sirius doesn’t let you stare for too long before his fingers are sliding through your soaked folds and brushing over your clit. Whimpers and moans tumble past your lips as Sirius rubs firm circles over you to get you adjusted before dipping down and pressing two fingers into you. A cry escapes you at the intrusion, and your hand instinctively reaches down to grip his bicep firmly.

Sirius startles you by leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your clit, before licking you the bundle of nerves softly. Your body tenses with pleasure, hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

“I’ve always wanted to taste you.” He confesses a surge of heat courses through your body, igniting every nerve ending as you absorb his words. He doesn’t waste another second before leaning down and gently sucking on your clit.

"Please don't stop." You plead softly, and Sirius complies, continuing with unwavering determination. He nips and sucks, licking through your folds and holding your thighs open for him. His fingers continue to slide in and out of you; the sounds you’re making are obscene.

You’re struck by the thojught that this doesn't compare to any other times that you’ve been eaten out. But maybe it's not just his technique that feels good; it might be the fact that its Sirius who’s between your legs.

Your thighs tremble, and a euphoric sensation begins to build up in your stomach, making it feel like you are floating on a delightful high.

“Sirius, I need you.” You gasp sharply, your fingers instinctively tugging on his hair, signaling for him to ease up. You wanted to come together for your first time, as cheesy as it may have been.

As he rises to his feet, your eyes meet, and contagious, goofy smiles spread across both of your faces. In this shared moment, a mutual understanding passes between you—acknowledging the absurdity of the situation yet reveling in the fact that there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

You watch as he wraps his hand around himself, dragging his hand up and down a few times. He whispers for you to scoot back until your head rests against the pillow, and with a gentle nod, you comply. He follows suit, settling on his haunches before you, creating a comforting, intimate space between you both.

“Y’ready?” He asks in a hushed tone, leaning in to hover over you, and at that moment, a rush of memories floods your mind, reminiscent of yesterday by the lake. You're convinced you must look rather pathetic with the speed of your nod, but Sirius only responds with a sweet smile.

With a grip on his cock, he slides the tip through your slick, both of you sucking in a breath at the sensation. He gently pushes at your entrance. Sirius steals a glance up at you, silently seeking reassurance, and you respond with a simple nod and a warm smile, letting him know that everything is perfect. Sirius catches you off guard as he leans down, tenderly pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips, a gesture filled with unexpected sweetness.

His gaze shifts, watching as he pushes his cock inside of you, letting out a string of curses as your pussy grips him tight, pulling him deeper inside.

“Fuck,” Gritting his teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose, determined to regain control and prevent himself from losing composure. He’s sitting fully inside you, and he has to take a breather because you feel better than he could have ever imagined. The last thing he wants is for this to end as soon as it begins.

His voice sounds utterly shattered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You entwine your fingers in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingertips as you pull him closer, urging him to meet your lips with his own. The anticipation builds as his warm breath mingles with yours, creating an intimate connection before the gentle press of his lips against yours. Parting your lips, you deepen the kiss, and Sirius eagerly reciprocated.

“Sirius. Fuck me, please.” You exhale softly against his lips, and Sirius responds with a low, guttural groan of longing and desire.

He doesn’t waste any time before dragging his cock along the sensitive walls of your pussy, before thrusting back into you, “God, your pussy feels incredible.” The cry that escapes you resonates loudly in the room, and you're immensely grateful that everyone is out at Hogsmeade. The absence of others allows you the freedom to be as uninhibited as you are, knowing that the full dorms would never afford you the same level of privacy and volume.

“Feels so good.” You gasp, head rolling to the side, your cheek resting against the pillows. Sirius’ hands rest against the back of your thighs, holding your legs against your chest, giving a clear view of the way his cock is so seamlessly slipping inside of you.

He watches you, transfixed on the way your brows pinch together in pleasure, lips parting to let moans slip past. It's as if a dam has burst within Sirius, an unstoppable torrent of words and emotions pouring forth as he finds himself unable to contain everything he's been holding back.

“Fuck, you sound s’pretty, sweet girl,” The groan that leaves his lips is downright sinful. “Thought about this pretty pussy all day. Pretended to be sick just to get off to the thought of you.”

“Sirius.” You whine, reaching out to thread your fingers through his hair and pull him down to you. You’re soaked and aching, desperate for Sirius to fuck you faster. However, much to your disappointment, he remains insistent on maintaining a slow, teasing pace.

“Pictured, tugging that fucking bikini top down. Watching your tits bounce while I fuck you. Fuck, cumming all over them.” The whine that escapes you feels pathetic, and under different circumstances, you would've been embarrassed by it. However, given the situation you're in, embarrassment takes a backseat.

“I know, baby. I know.” He complies, adjusting his position so that his right arm supports him above you while his left hand gently traces your skin. Brushing over your nipples, trailing up and over your tits, before placing his hand loosely around the base of your throat.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He grunts, admiring how ruined you look for him. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes from tears, and your lips swollen from his earlier kisses. He loved seeing you like this. Being the one to ruin you, to smudge your makeup and bring you to tears. “Taking my cock s’well.”

You’re incoherent, begging for Sirius to go harder, to fuck you faster. Hands pawing at his ass, desperately trying to bring him closer.

His hand squeezes your throat gently, “Tell me you want me to fuck you harder. C’mon love, wanna hear you beg for it.”

A smug grin tugs on Sirius’ lips as he watches you struggling to form words. You’re getting close if the way you’re squeezing him so tight and rolling your hips is any indicator.

But then a desperate, needy whine with the words he so badly wants to hear slips past your lips. Babbling about needing his cock and wanting him to ruin you. The second he hears your pleas, he thrusts into you harder, setting a brutal new pace that has you crying for him.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, m’love.” He speaks so sincerely that you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside, an overwhelming urge threatening to bring tears to your eyes.

Overcome with your emotions, you reach for Sirius’ hand and interlace them together before Sirius presses your clasped hands into the sheets. His headboard thumps against the wall rhythmically.

“Need you to fill me up. Please.” You plead desperately, and Sirius curses, his voice rough and strained.

“Shit, that’s my girl. Want me to fill you with my cum?” It's the praise that pushes you over the edge. Your back arches, pressing your breasts into Sirius’ chest and your legs tremble.

“Doing so good f’me.” He’s close behind you. Your tight, wet walls clenching around him is what does it for him.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum. Fuck.” Sirius moans, burying his head in the crook of your neck as his hips stutter and you cry out at the feeling of his warm cum filling you up. You clench his hand tightly, your nails likely leaving imprints on his skin. A sob escapes your lips, and your fingers weave through his hair, a desperate attempt to draw him closer.

You both remain entwined, lost in each other's embrace as you gradually come down from the euphoric highs. The room resonates with the sound of your intertwined breaths, each one heavy and labored. Your body feels utterly slack, every muscle loosened, and you're so relaxed that you could easily doze off at any moment.

Sirius presses a couple of tender kisses against your neck, eliciting a satisfied hum from you. When he withdraws from you, a wince escapes you as you feel the separation, and Sirius’ eyes dart up to you in concern.

“Y’okay, sweet girl?”

“I’m okay, just sore.” You grace him with a sweet smile, and Sirius leans in, gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gonna get a towel, one second.” He assures you, rising from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. You listen to the faucet running and the faint sounds of the cupboard opening and closing. Lying back, you gaze up at the ceiling, absently nibbling on your thumbnail until a smile breaks across your face at the thought of what just happened.

“Here, love.” Sirius says, sitting on the edge of the bed holding a washcloth in his hand. He’s got a fresh pair of pajama pants on, you didn’t even notice him grab clothes from his trunk, too lost in your thoughts.

Sirius gently grips your ankle, encouraging you to spread your legs. His breath hitches at the sight of his cum dripping out of you and onto his sheets, desperately hoping to see this sight again. He murmurs a curse under his breath, his touch gentle as he delicately uses the warm washcloth to clean between your thighs.

“There.” He whispers softly before aiding you to sit up. As you glance over, you notice the t-shirt and pajama pants laid out beside him, meant for you. Your heart swells with warmth as he assists you in slipping it over your head. With a grateful smile, you slide into the pajama pants. Meanwhile, Sirius utters evanesco to fix the sheets up, before joining you in bed.

“C’mere.” He beckons to you, sinking into the pillows, and you nestle against him, finding solace as you rest your head on his chest.

In the silence, you both relish the comfort of each other's embrace, enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy. Lost in contemplation, your mind wanders, grappling with what just happened and what that meant for the both of you.

"That wasn't just a one-time thing, was it?" You inquire, the hopefulness evident in your tone.

"No," Sirius responds, tilting your chin so you can meet his gaze. "I want you to be mine, for real this time."

The fluttering butterflies that dance through your stomach are overwhelming as you absorb his words. A lovesick grin spreads across your lips, unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, “Then I'm all yours."

You settle back into Sirius, and his arms hold you against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head lull you into a serene state, the sound of his steady heartbeat serving as a soothing lullaby that guides you into a peaceful sleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"I'm sorry, so you asked us to fake it not for Lily, but for Sirius and I to get together?" You gaze at James, confused, knitting your brows, while he sits opposite you at the table. Remus and Sirius are absorbed in their own conversation, and Peter is having breakfast with the girl he harbors a crush on. Despite their current status as friends, Peter seems overjoyed nonetheless.

James grins, casting you a smug look. "I mean, Lily genuinely thought you and I were a thing. At first, it really was because Lily thought we were together, but then I realized that this was the perfect way to get you and Sirius together.”

“James! So you lied to us?” You huff in disbelief.

James shrugs nonchalantly, his demeanor radiating an air of casual indifference, “You already knew I lied to Lily; what’s the difference?”

You sigh softly, "That's true, but what about you and Lily? Are you two getting together?"

James smiles, “We’ll get there eventually. This was more about you and Sirius. And before you start, yes, I’ll tell her the truth.” He sends you a pointed look, and you chuckle, already preparing to remind him to come clean to Lily.

"You're certifiably insane." You tease, exhaling a laugh.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it? You got the guy.” James watches with delight as a lovesick smile effortlessly graces your face before you steal a glance at Sirius.

"Oh, hey. Pick up your clothes next time you're napping with Sirius," He remarks casually, but the emphasis on the word napping lets you know that he's fully aware there was more happening than just sleep. "My shoe got tangled in your bra."

[sacredsorceress]

Spell on You / Logan Howlett

pairing: bestfriend!logan x f!witch!reader summary: when logan finds out another man bought you a drink at a halloween party, your relationship changes word count: 2.2k a/n: scott is an ass because i just know movie!cyclops would love to mess with logan's love life ('97 scott stays too busy for this). this is a bit rushed but i hope you enjoy!! warnings: reader wears a dress and thigh highs (slay), alcohol consumption, mention of smoke, jealousy, fluff, classic bff to lovers trope

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The bum. bum. bum. of the music echoed throughout the establishment, vibrating against its walls and floorboards. The sea of bar-crawlers intent on having the worst of hangovers in the morning were shoulder to shoulder, bumping against Logan as he made his way through the crowd to you.

The room reeked of smoke of various kinds and if it hadn't been for the overworking of the fans above, Logan was sure he would've gotten high secondhand. But it was Halloween night- certain factors were out of his control.

Though, like a lighthouse in the night, Logan heard your voice beckoning him over to the bar.

"Boooooooo!" You shouted, glass in your hand. "You were supposed to dress up!"

Logan smirked at your complaint, leaning against the bar.

"Yeah?" He asked. "'Cause you're so original?"

Logan's eyes trailed from your thigh high boots to your dress to finally, a witch's hat. Being a witch yourself, the irony was unavoidable.

"Very creative, sweetheart."

You felt a heart skip a beat at your best friend's pet name.

In shock of many, you and Logan had become fast friends. The man who had always managed to have a perpetually grumpy demeanor about him had paired perfectly with you. You were able to brush off Logan's jokes, matching them with your own in a way that had escalated so far as to make your fellow X-Men wonder if the two of you had begun to speak your own language.

"At least it's a costume, Logan." You argued. "What are you meant to be?"

"-Oh I've got this one."

Scott.

Any inclination of joy written on Logan's face was quickly erased.

"A dick?" Scott said, slinging his arm around your shoulder. "I've gotta say Logan, you've nailed it."

Logan rolled his eyes, inching closer to the two of you as a couple nudged against him to order at the bar. Noting the drink in your hand, Logan shifted the conversation.

"I thought I told you I was buying tonight?"

Your eyes lowered from Logan's to the drink in your hand. You traced the rim of the glass as you shrugged.

"Oh this-“

Scott interrupted:

"Guy over there bought it for her." Scott said, a shit-eating grin on his face as he pointed to the opposite end of the establishment. "Told her he'd be back later 'to get to know her better'."

You felt yourself grow warm under Logan's gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

Lately yours and Logan's relationship had become more complicated, blurring the lines between friendship and something more. Pet names like sweetheart and princess flowed out of his mouth without a second thought. You had stopped going on dates with new men- something about it feeling wrong when you and Logan had... whatever you had. He was your best friend, that you were sure of. But, with Logan's eyes burning a hole through you, you wondered if he still felt that way.

You had been hoping to keep the drink a secret and avoid speaking to the man later in the night, but you should've known that Scott and Logan's rivalry would make any chance of that impossible.

Logan's eyes trailed from you to the man Scott was pointing to across the room. He looked about your age, dressed with a cloak around his shoulders and a pair of cheap plastic teeth slipping from his mouth as he laughed with his friends.

Logan scowled, raising his eyebrow at you.

"You into... that?"

You shrugged, hiding your eyes beneath the rim of your hat.

"It's just a drink, Logan." You said. "He probably forgot about me anyway."

Holding his gaze, Logan slowly nodded, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You want your usual?"

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"What are you talking about, Lo?" You asked. "I have a drink."

Logan shook his head, tapping his fingers against the bar to get the bartender's attention.

"I'm not gonna sit here and watch you have some other guy's drink." Logan said firmly. "Now, what are you having? 'Cause you either tell me, or I'm ordering for you."

You felt a burning sensation in your chest as your pulse quickened.

You were used to Logan's stubbornness and protective regard for those he cared about, but you had never seen him so firm with you before. You were someone who could handle yourself and as much as he worried about you, he had never claimed you in such a way as he did now.

If you hadn't known better, you would have thought he was jealous.

"My usual."

You watched as he leaned over the bar, ordering the both of your drinks from the bartender.

The lighting in the bar was dim. Most of the things that you could make out were highlighted by an array of multicolored LED lights that had been flickering throughout the room.

The light above Logan's head flicked from green to purple, showcasing the sheen of sweat that had begun running down his temple from the capacity of the party. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow, the veins in his arms protruding as he leaned against the counter top.

Sometimes you wondered what it felt like- to be one of the women who had the opportunity to touch Logan. You had had passing touches here and there but you wondered if you could feel the weight of his adamantium bones in your hand- whether his skin remained rough despite his regenerative abilities.

The thoughts were cruel. He was your friend.

But then again, were you really his?

Logan handed you your drink, leaning the small of his back against the counter. Gingerly taking the glass from his hands, your fingertips graced his skin.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, feeling the vibrations of the DJ's music against your feet. You listened to indistinguishable chatter rattle throughout the building.

"He said he liked the 'juxtaposition of my face to the costume'." You said, referring to the man who bought you a drink. "I'm not even sure that he used the word right."

A smirk rose onto Logan's face.

"What a dick." Logan scoffed, nursing his whiskey.

You laughed along with him, nudging your elbow into his side.

"He is, isn't he?" You joked. "I bet he's super pretentious."

Logan glanced down at you, noticing the small smile that graced your lips as you met his eyes.

God, he felt silly. He was over two hundred years old and yet, he found himself with a crush on a woman and unable to tell her. With anyone else, he would have made a move the second he saw them. But you were his friend- his closest friend.

You had a relationship that meant more to him than anything in his life. Did he want you? Yes, but he wasn't going to be the one to admit it and scare you off. It had to be you.

So Logan put out his feelers and afforded himself plausible deniability- calling you sweetheart, buying you drinks... sitting by your side after a mission went sideways. However, there was something about the two of you sharing a life in the mansion that made him forget that other men could see you the way that he did.

Seeing the multicolored lights illuminate your skin and the way your eyelashes batted as you smiled up at him, Logan was reminded that he didn't have forever.

"Not your thing?" He asked.

Logan asked it casually. He was still leaned over the bar, but his body had turned to encase yours- one arm snaking itself around your back while the other held the whiskey glass.

The space between you grew hot and you could feel his warm breath against your face. The scent of the cologne that you had gotten him for his birthday drifted up your nose as he hovered closer.

Sometimes you felt that Logan was off living a dozen lifetimes in his head despite standing directly in front of you, but here... now... his focus was entirely on you and you knew he was waiting on your answer with bated breath.

You don't know whether it was the liquor or the realisation that the wolverine had placed you at the center of his universe, but you gained a confidence you had lacked in the weeks since your relationship shifted.

Glancing at his empty glass, you flicked your hand, filling it up.

"No," You sighed as your eyes trailed up his body. "I like them a bit... rougher around the edges."

This, Logan decided, was your sign. You were pushing the boundaries just as he had done, seeing if he'd take the bait.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he leaned in further. The music in the bar was getting increasingly louder as the night went on and Logan's lips were now inches from your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck.

"That right?" Logan asked.

"Mhm."

Logan could hear your heart pounding in your chest and felt peace in knowing that his was doing the same. This wasn't the same as his other ventures- he wouldn't wake up in the morning to find an empty space in his mattress where you had been the night before. What you two had would be permanent, he told himself; a fixture in an otherwise chaotic life like his.

In the life of a man with regeneration, he rarely worried about what happened next. But with his lips grazing the skin of the woman he loved most, Logan could feel a drop of whiskey hit his skin- fallen from the glass that sat in his shaking hand.

Then, he felt your hands push gently against his chest. And his world came crashing down.

Your eyes meeting his, you shook your head.

"I love you, Logan."

For anyone else, this would've been confirmation. But Logan had heard these words from you a hundred times. You loved him... platonically. He felt the wind knocked out of him at what he thought was resignation.

Pulling away, Logan nodded.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Hearing him say it in the same voice he always did- the dismissive tone meant to mask any indication of care- you gripped his shirt, forcing him to look at you.

"No." You said firmly. "I love you. I'm saying this can't be a one night thing, Logan. I love you."

Logan saw the desperation in your eyes and couldn't hold back. He slammed his drink against the bar and held your face in his hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, thinking that as silly as it was, what he had been waiting for was finally happening. No matter the amount of times he had touched you, this time was different. As strong as you were, he was afraid to ruin the precious object he was holding in his hands- you and your future.

Logan swore your cheeks were softer and the scent of your perfume had wrapped himself around your finger.

"Say it back, Lo."

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue was enough confirmation he needed. Pulling your face to his, Logan's lips crashed against yours.

Your fingers never left his shirt, pulling him closer to you as you hummed into the kiss. Logan's hands moved to lay against your waist. The noise of the bar fell away as Logan focused on your breathing and the skip of your heartbeat as he squeezed you tighter.

When he heard the familiar, hypnotic hum of your magic, he pulled away only slightly.

In the heat of your kiss, a forcefield had formed around the two of you. When you noticed the golden shimmer of your magic, you pulled your hands way from Logan, bringing the forcefield down with it.

"Sorry."

Logan smirked.

"Don't gotta be worried," He said, running his thumb against your cheek. "You're safe with me."

Logan wasn't sure if he'd be able to always keep you safe in the hectic life that you two shared, but he would be damned if he wouldn't die trying. You two fit together like pieces of a puzzle and although he wasn't sure how it would work, if one thing was for sure- you weren't losing him.

"I love you too."

Holding you in his hands, the knowledge finally settling in that you were his, this dingey bar was the last place he wanted to be.

And it was as if you read his mind.

"Can we get out of here?"

Glancing around the room, Logan noticed two things: one being that half the eyes in the room were on you since your accidental forcefield, and the other, Scott barreling over through a crowd of college girls towards you. These two things paired with the fact that the woman of his dreams was standing beside him, Logan was more than ready to, kindly, get the fuck out of there.

Logan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and guided you out of the bar.

"That's my girl."

author's note: thank you for reading! just a short lil oneshot for spooky season

[adelliet]

Logan x f!reader

MEMORABLE RIDE

Summary: You went to the club with your friends and when it was time to go, you ordered a limo, but the girls didn't join so you took the ride alone, but this wasn't your only ride of the evening.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, fingering, nicknames (good girl, princess,…), unprotected sex (p i v)

A/n: Hello pookies! This is quite a short one-shot unlike the previous ones, but still there may be grammatical errors, for which I apologize. Also sorry if some parts don't make sense, English is not my native language! Thanks, enjoy <3

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"So are you coming or not?" you yell at your friends, trying to shout over the loud music. They were all sitting in a booth with their one-night stands, all dazed and drunk. They didn't hear you, despite their enthusiasm to have a good fuck today. Unlike them, you had no luck in finding a fuck-buddy. It wasn't that you weren't interested or didn't want to, but no one at the party was your type.

Your friends are into boys of the same age, while you prefer more mature men, older men who knows what they want. "Hey!" you yelled at them once more, at this point your throat started hurting. One of your friends finally heard you and gave you a cursory look. "No, we're not going, can't you see we're busy?" Julia said in her typical bitch tone, that you were already used to.

"But I already ordered a ride home" you furrow your eyebrows as you show her your phone screen. "So? Go home, we'll take care of ourselves" Kaylie said this time, making you realize they all heard you but just ignore you. They were just mocking you.

"Whatever" you breathed out and shook your head, deciding to leave. You love those girls, you really do, but when alcohol, drugs, and sex get into them, they're changed. Usually they apologize the next day and everything is back to normal, but sometimes you wonder if the ridicule is worth it.

When you finally squeezed through the crowd of people and nearly went blind from the beams of colored lasers, you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The club was incredibly hot and the air was thick in there, it was practically impossible to breathe, so the moment you stepped out, it was like a godsend.

You stayed on a spot for a while, just enjoying the clean air and the glowing lamps around you, until you noticed a black limousine on the other side of the sidewalk. That was for you. You quickly checked your makeup in your pocket-mirror, to see if you didn't look like a total mess and headed towards the limo.

On your way there, an old guy with a long gray beard and a black suit get out of the car. Even from a distance you could tell, that he's been gone through a lot in his life. He had a cute glasses on, his eyes squeezed, trying to read something in his phone. "Hi!" you said with a sweet tone and small smile.

You caught his attention immediately, making him groan annoyingly as he looked at you, but the moment he saw you, he needed to double check you. He carelessly scan you from the bottom up, his glasses sliding off his nose gently while he looked through his eye lids.

Before he could say anything you overtook him. "313, my code" you flashed him with your phone screen. He hastily blinked, his eyes watering from the brightness of your phone. He rudely took your phone and checked with a closer look. You awkwardly stood next to him until he hummed and handed you back your phone.

"Where are the others?" his voice was deep and grainy, showing his age. Hearing him for the first time made goosebumps all over your body and increased your heartbeat. "They...uh they're not coming, it's just me" you look behind your shoulder and glance at the club, remembering your friends words, before turning back.

He roll his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Is that okay?" you asked him cautiously, automatically going to sit in the back of the limo, as he got into the driver's seat. "As long as you pay" you deduced, that hearing him talk is very rare thing and that was why it made it so special. Whenever he talks, his voice sends a sharp prick between your legs.

"Y-yeah I have the money..." you rummaged through your purse to check your wallet and you sigh with relief when you saw it there. The old man entered your location on the GPS and started the engine. The ride was quiet except for the songs on the radio, but you didn't mind, you watched things passing by from window. You could turn off your brain and relax.

"May I ask why you didn't take a taxi?" your rest didn't last long when you heard the wolf's voice again. It took you a while to recover and form a sentence in your head. "I guess I didn't think of that" you didn't want to tell the whole lore about your friends and how you naively thought you would drive all home together and enjoy the ride back, so you got a little carried away and spend a lot of money on a limo. All that so you are now sitting alone there and not didn't even enjoy the evening with some good fuck.

He was looking at you through the rear view mirror, sometimes you caught him and he swiftly looked back on the road. He could sense the dissapointment in your voice, but he didn't want to be intrusive, even though he was really interested in the story behind you.

"Aren't you cold?" another sharp hit into your core, when you heard his crisp voice. "Uhh no, it's fine, thanks" the thanks was almost inaudible as you looked down at your knees shyly. You honestly weren't surprised he asked, you were wearing a short top with a short black skirt. You hoped you don't look like some kind of slut, you wanted to impress him in a good way and if he told his friends about you, you didn't want him to call you a whore.

He nodded, quickly checking you in the mirror again before firmly focusing his attention on the road. That was his last sentence before the silence came again, broken by music from the radio and the sounds of cars outside. But it was soothing, the led lights were dark purple and before long your eye lids started being heavy and without realizing it, you fell asleep.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your body twitched and you instantly woke up, after you heard a sudden slam of the door. you rub your eyes and yawn tiringly, as you look from the window. You squinted your eyes when the lights of the gas station hit you, but after a while you got used to it, you try to orient yourself. When you wanted to check on the driver, he was gone. You tried to stay calm and not panic right away, as is your nature. You're only at the gas station, Logan must have gone to get gas or buy something, he doesn't want to bury you alive in the woods. Your paranoidness is really pathetic sometimes.

After a while, you heard a melody of door opening and immediately looked after the sound. Your eyes sparkle and your corners automatically lifted up when you saw him walking towards the limousine. Without realizing it, you felt a strange fluttering in your stomach when HE came into your sight. Feeling that you haven't experienced in a long time.

You watched his every step towards you, his serious expression still on his face with no sign of emotion. You sat back in the seat when Logan grabbed the handle and put his upper body into the car. "Hey...I was thinking you might want to drink something" he handed you one of his cups and gave you the cutest eyes you've ever seen. You though you were in a fever dream.

"Oh! T-thank you" you took the cup and giggle nervously, before your fingers touched by the process and you swear a spark jumped between you. The eye contact was intense, strong, almost romantic and none of you wanted to break it.

You hold your breath as you try to read his eyes, what he was thinking about. He flicked from your eyes to your lips quickly and then decided to go back to driver's seat. "Wait!" you stopped him quickly.

He bent down to see your face again and waited for your words. You didn't even know what you wanted. You had to think fast. "Can you...can you sit here with me for a while? I don't want to delay you, I just...I don't want to go home" you chuckle awkwardly as a side-smile appeared on your face.

Logan was quiet at first, again, not a single hint of any emotion in his face, but he got in and sat next to you, as you wished. He keeps the distance between you respectful, even though you wouldn't mind if he scoops a bit closer. "Why's that?" he raised his eyebrow and turned his head to you, looking deep into your eyes. You sighed and looked down while playing with your fingers.

"Well...it's a long story" you look back up at him, smiling softly. "I got time" his interest in you really warmed your heart and your inner self screamed with joy. Even though you are not a very extroverted person, you felt comfortable with him so he didn't have to tell you twice to talk.

"Well, today was supposed to be a hen party and originally, more girls were supposed to be here with me, but as you can see, that didn't quite work out...just a pinch of alcohol and they act like animals" you scoff and shake your head, being really pissed. You remember what they told you, how they treated you and didn't even give a hint of gratitude for the fact that you tried to get them a ride back.

"Oh...well-" he wanted to comfort you somehow, but you didn't finish and decided to confide properly. You surprised yourself. "You know, I really like them, but sometimes they act like total whores who only think about sex and dicks, not that there's anything wrong with that, but they just don't have any self-respect for themselves or others, and then I catch their rude behavior…”

You were so fired up about letting it all out that you didn't even realize the effect it must have on this man. When there was an awkward silence after your speech, you checked on him. He looked a little shocked but immediately cleared his throat and composed himself, so that he could finally react somehow, but you didn't let him, again.

"I have a pretty boring life, I admit, maybe I'm old-fashioned but I'm not really the type to sleep with the first guy I meet in a club..., anyway the answer to why I don't want to go home is simple, I still want to enjoy the freedom before going back to my awkward and boring office-life" this was the final speech and you felt amazing after that. Those words slipped out of your mouth so easily and you haven't confided in someone like this for a long time.

You sip from your cup loudly as the outrageous silence became really disconcerting. Your conscience began to eat away at you quickly, and since you didn't accept any answer, your nervousness grew rapidly. You started tapping your foot and gradually the shaking spread to your hands, which were holding the cup. You started to regret confiding so much and wanted to say something and save yourself a little, but a man's voice caressed your eardrums before you could speak.

"You don't look like someone who has a boring life" from everything you said you were surprised that he reacted to THAT but on the other hand, you were probably grateful for that, if he only reacted to the sex theme, it would probably put you both in an awkward situation. "Oh believe me, I really have…I'm not special" you smiled at him, your dimples shine as you try to read through his eyes again.

He frowned, that was the first facial movement you saw from him, you are finally getting somewhere. "C'mon your boyfriend sure thinks you're amazing" you chuckle softly and shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend" "Really?" he answered, maybe too quickly, a big surprise in his voice. You nodded and couldn't stop smiling.

"You're telling me that a beautiful lady like you doesn't have a boyfriend?" you giggle again as a reaction to his compliment and shake your head. You felt like a little girl getting compliments from adults, it was exciting. "Damn…" he leaned back in disbelief, looking really surprised. "That's a shame, boys must flock to you" his compliments started being overwhelming and every time he said something nice to you, there was that sharp kick right into your clitoris that makes your core pulsating. At first you were a little embarrassed to be turned on by such an old man's praise, but later you didn't care and just enjoyed the moment.

"Not really...I'm quite quiet" "I noticed" he gave you a smile, which almost made you faint. That cruel nasty man was gone and replaced by a nice gentleman with beautiful eyes. "I'm Logan by the way" he offered you a hand to shake which you took almost immediately and your smile grew bigger. Logan. His name kept repeating itself in your head. It was quite an unusual but unique name that sounded very nice and you would get used to screaming it easily, to be honest. "Y/n" you shake your hands and let go, feeling a bit sad when your skins stopped touching.

"Y/n..." he repeated your name to himself quietly, looking at you up and down, not caring if you notice or not. His confidence was really visible and that only added to his attractiveness. Although you just said that your friends sometimes act like whores who only think about sex and dicks, now you've turned into one of them. A million scenarios started forming in your head and your pulsating started being unbearable every second Logan look at you.

You had no idea what kind of magic it was that he was so extremely attracted to you, in fact you had no idea, except that you wanted to ride him till you can't walk anymore in this fancy limousine. As if he read your thoughts and subtly started bending closer to you. You hold your breath once again, as the distance between your lips started getting smaller, until it barely existed.

You were inches away from touching each other lips, no one had the guts to destroy the barrier until Logan gave up and finally kissed you. As if he was afraid of what your reaction would be, his lips barely touching yours, he was very careful. He didn't want to scare you, but you were the oposite. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and goosebumps surrounded your body when you felt his lips, but you wanted more.

That's why you headlessly grabbed Logan's neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan wasn't so careful anymore as your tongues battled for dominance and your hands encircled each other's bodies. At the beginning there were slow, peaceful kisses that quickly turned into a hungry and merciless ones.

You didn't last long on your place and slowly moved away from your seat to sit on Logan. He devilishly smirk into the kisses as he feel your ass on his lap, where his boner was already growing. He was exploring your body, every inch of you, he wanted to remember it. He traveled from your long hair to your ass, which he squeezed from time to time. You panties were soaking wet and your natural instincts took control. You started moving your hips back and forth, desperate for even a little friction.

Your movements made Logan groan and squeeze your ass even harder, making you moan. Your lips were still firmly glued to each other, even though you wanted to see Logan's face as you rode him through your clothes. His body is tensed as he tries to keep his voice quiet, even that he doesn't do it very well. He was as desperate as you, from the moment he saw you you were on his mind and he couldn't let you go. There's a reason your friends didn't go with you and you're actually grateful to them. Really fucking grateful.

Logan was getting tired of touching you only through your clothes, so he lifted your skirt up a bit and touched your folds through your soaked panties. He chuckled at the feeling and let go of your lips, looking into your lustful eyes. "You're so fucking wet" he growled and started creating pressure between your legs that increased with every movement he made. You could finally throw your head back and enjoy his fingers, which for an old man were damn nimble. He definitely has a lot of experience.

Your pelvis automatically moved along with his hand as your palms rested on his chest. You throw your head back and started unbuttoning his pants, making him giggle. "Someone is impatient" you smiled, intensely focused on his pants until he made an illegal move. Your eyes shut and head drop, when he put your panties aside and finally touched on your bare wet folds. He was enjoying the view of you, how your face was squeezed and your quiet whimpers started echoing throughout the limousine, you were perfect.

He couldn't resist and had to thrust both fingers into you at the same time, forcing you to throw your head back and drop your jaw wide open. You felt so full when he was expanding your walls but that was just the beginning. His fingers started curling into you, smooth steady motions that were throwing you closer to your orgasm. “Logan” you were wailing his name over and over again as you started ride on his fingers. Your nails sank into his thighs but he barely felt it.

One of his hands was on your waist trying to keep you still at least a little bit, while the other was fingering you with no mercy. He noticed how you started clenching around him and even your moans started being cut off. You didn't need to tell him twice that you are about to cum right on his fingers, he knew it very well. You felt the weird feeling to go pee and your stomach started clenching, just a few more movements and you would cum, but he stopped.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you immediately look at him confused, sighing at the lost. He smiles, sucking his fingers and looking in your eyes while he taste you. He rolled his eyes and growls loudly. "Fuck you taste amazing" this sentence makes you wet again and your core pulsates even more than before. Logan let go of your weist and started clumsily taking off his pants. You quickly get up so you won't not to get in his way, and the moment his pants along with his boxers touched his ankles, he didn't hesitate for a second. He grabbed your hips harshly and eagerly forced you to sit on him.

You adored his impetuous behavior and how much he was craving for you, for your body, for the fuck. Even though he looked two hundred years old, he had an outrageous amount of energy in him and his body was bursting with adrenaline. You, on the other hand, weren't much different. Your horniness knew no bounds and the passion you felt was irreplaceable.

Your only focus was on Logan, you didn't care if anyone caught or heard you, you wanted him inside you no matter what. You look down at his penis, veiny, unshaven and huge. You gasped a little as the thought that this would all be inside you besieged you, but your excitement was much greater than your fear. "Surprised baby?" the craspy voice rang in your ears and you immediately look in front of you, his myschivious grin makes your core pulsates even more and the lust for orgasm was incalculable.

Your mouth filled with saliva and you weren't going to hold on to the anticipation any longer. You slowly started lowering yourself, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt his tip touching you. "Good girl, nice and slow..." Logan was looking down at the part where you two are going to connect, his strong arms still holding your hips and subtly forcing you to take him.

His words soothed and excited you at the same time, which is why his intrusion wasn't as painful. You groan loudly as his tip was fully inside you, already feeling full but that still wasn't the end. You change your hand placement to his chest, squeezing his boobs without realizing it, but Logan loved every moment of it. He decided to help you and slowly lifted up his hips, pushing further into you. Before long he was all inside you, you couldn't believe how full you were and how he was stretching your walls much more than before with his fingers. Your juice was already dropping on his cock, that was hard as a stone inside you.

He waited a while for you to get used to his length and during that he grabbed your neck and kissed you aggressively. When your hips started moving instinctively, he deduced that you were ready. With his hands still holding your hips, he was forcing you to move back and forth, heating up and creating pressure, like some type of foreplay. Your lips were still glued to his until you couldn't take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath. Your head dropped as your whining grew louder and louder.

“Yeah that's it princess…” he growled as he watched your face, still holding you tightly. His pelvis started moving along with yours, his pulse increased and his breathing slowed down. “Such a good girl” the endless compliments only helped to bring you closer to your climax and he was well aware of that. You look up through your eye lids, seeing him intensely focused with furrowed eyebrows send a chill down your spine.

You gradually began to pick up your pace and strength, each movement bringing you both closer and your moans getting louder. The car was starting to smell like sex and the atmosphere around you was getting thick. Logan wanted more, so he makes your hips go up and then thrust down. You scream his name as he did it again, but this was exactly what you both needed. He helped you a bit but after a while you could jump on him by yourself, the incredibly lust to reach your orgasm made you forget about exhaustion.

Logan dropped his jaw and shut his eyes as your ass was clapping against his thighs. His dick was twitching inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. That spongy sensitive spot calling the cervix sends incredible waves of pleasure whenever he hits it. You both were sighing in a rhythm as the juicy sounds started getting louder. “That's it baby…that's it” with a struggle he praised you again and banged you, desperately trying to finally reach his orgasm.

You knew you won't last long anymore. The overwhelming tense feeling started shutting down all your senses. Goosebombs jumped on every part of your body as you squeezed his breasts hard, making him chuckle. "C'mon baby, give it to me" this was the last straw when he gave you this green flag to cum. You put all your strength and energy into your hips and into finally achieving what you longed for. You slowly throw your head back again and just whimper quietly, as your hips took on the incredible speed of light.

When the feeling of going to pee and release finally washed over you, your entire body tensed and you shiver. You were paralyzed and your hips stopped moving when you finally reached your golden orgasm. But Logan didn't stop and when he felt how hard you clenched around him and saw your cumming face, he lost his control in hips and cum just few seconds after you. He emptied his balls into you, not missing a single drop and grunted very VERY loudly as he nearly crushed your hips. When you both calmed down a bit, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

"Fuck you were...incredible" you breathed out and Logan chuckled, nodding as a acceptence of your compliment. "You too sweatheart" you looked into his eyes with a surprised expression. He gave you those nicknames during sex, that's why you were shocked when he told you after it too. Your corners lifted up and your heart melts, making it hard for Logan to resist and he needed to kiss you one more time. But this time it was a long, romantic kiss that you hadn't received in decades.

When he pulled away, leaving just a tiny space between your noses, your teasing mood started setting in. "You lasted quite long for an old guy" he furrowed his eyebrows but smiled, as he sensed your teasing behavior. "Oh really?" he tsks before he asked ironically and you just hummed. "Say that again and you'll regret it" he warned you but you knew it was just a part of the teasing-play you had going on. "Okay, sorry, grandpa" you devilishly smile as you said the last word.

"That's it" Logan grabbed you and threw you gently on the floor of the limousine, making you smile. He started kissing you aggressively with his dick still deeply inside you.

"You won't be able to walk after this"

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[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

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[emacrow]

The reborned Kronos and her overprotective baby that the Justice league haven't figured out how to calm down.

Especially when the angry head of the Cultists who were around the sacrifice alter in a circle started shouting at one on the left, which caused the lil baby clinging to Kronos newly form female body to stiffen up and wailed, causing the large glowing spike of ice to emerged and quickly freezes every single one of the cultists.

Martian man has confirmed that Kronos is going through a Major psychic backlash to even move or even speak, point that just taking a peak in her mind, gave Martian man a near concussion from the emotional sensitivity overload and several hundreds of whispering self reflecting thoughts cluttering her consciousness.

The Justice League and the Dark Justice are trying to figure out how to get close to Kronos and her screaming bloody murder child without going through what the cultists went through, especially when the Frozen ice was still spreading slowly widening.

Shazam is going through the worst-case headaches as several voices were screaming, yelling at him to destroy the Mad Time God while Two sounded like they eating popcorn and enjoying the drama. Constantine was about to suggest something until a unknown voice that sounded hoarses spoke.

"...Danny..."

That when the Flash rather quickly saw Kronos's hands twitch. Motioning the other heroes as they all began to watch and wait as Kronos slowly bringing the baby closer to her chest.

"..World is covered by our trails, Scars we cover up with paint.... I would rather see this world through the eyes of a child, , Darker times will come and go..... Times you need to see her smile and mothers' hands are warm.... When a human strokes your skin,That is when you let them in, I would rather feel alive with a childlike soul, with a childlike soul.." Kronos whispered softly to the wailing baby that was slowly calming down. Superman can hear the lullaby even if he couldn't understand what she was saying to the child.

"...it's been a long while I'd entertained the living." Kronos said in a rich soothing voice as she had slowly open her eyes revealing a mesmerizing deep purple color with what seem to be a tiny thousands of clock gears ticking surrounding her pupil, turning to justice league

Part 1 << >> Part 3

[seresinhangmanjake]

Don't Touch What’s His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: Feyd's harpies attack you while you're both asleep in his bed and he gets real mad.

Notes/Warnings: mention of blood and mutilation, inflicted wounds, and possessiveness. Related to the fic titled His, but this can be read alone. Typos (just being real)

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You’re screaming for him before you’re even fully awake, shrieking his name before you can begin to grasp what’s happening to you. All you know is that you’re no longer warm, no longer safe as you’re yanked from his arms and dragged to the bottom edge of the bed. Claws are digging into your calf as primal grumbles and growls and the distinct sound of lips smacking in anticipation reach your ears. Your body is being pulled further and further away, and no pawing at the sheets helps to keep you on the mattress.

Another plea for him is on the tip of your tongue, but then a hand wraps around your arm, engaging in a tug-of-war with whatever monster has a hold on you. Scrapes make lines down your leg as you dig your heels into the bed and back yourself away from the clawed being. You take a few deep breaths and blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“I told you she’s off limits!” Feyd shouts in a terrifying tone. A tone most commonly reserved for those who inconvenience him: servants and prisoners and his brother. It’s not his low timbre; it’s much more powerful. So powerful that you half-expect a crack to split open the floor.

You blink again and crane your neck to peer over the foot of the bed at who he scolds. Feyd’s harpies are on their hands and knees, staring a hole into your head. It’s a daring choice. When Feyd speaks, those around must be attentive with eyes and ears, but the harpies don’t so much as glance in his direction. They’re here for you, they want you, and clearly nothing else.

“But she looks so yummy,” one of them says, a pout forming on her lips.

“And she smells even better,” the second adds. Her tongue swipes over a sharpened fang.

All three of them begin to crawl across the floor until they’re at your side of the bed. Feyd’s fingers tighten around your arm, his eyes narrowing, and you lean back against his chest just in case they get the idea to lunge at you.

“We won’t eat very much of her,” the third purrs as her hand slithers over the silky sheets, inching toward your body. “Just a few little bites. Plenty left over for our lord na-baron to enjoy.”

When her pointed nails graze your ankle, Feyd leans around you, grabs her wrist, and sharply twists until there's a snap. She yelps. Your body jolts. Tears build in the corners of her eyes. Your jaw drops.

Immediately, they appear to sober up. Their hunger, if still there, doesn’t lust for you so intensely now that fear has taken over.

“You will not sink your filthy fangs into her,” Feyd spits, baring his teeth. “She’s mine. Her flesh, her blood, all of her—mine.” The other two harpies shrink and skitter away from their injured sister. “If I wanted to share, I would have.”

Feyd releases his harpy. She cradles her broken wrist, whimpers emitting from her throat as she scoots back to join the others. They feel safer in a pack. Though you don’t think that will aid them in this case.

“W-We just thought she wouldn’t matter to you,” one of them mutters, her chin tucked to her chest. “We thought you could find another plaything.”

Feyd’s face darkens. The icy blue of his glare wavers under the force of a burning red. As he moves to stand, he jerks you to his side of the bed, separating you from the beastly women by a few more feet.

“What did you just say to me?” he grits out, rounding the mattress and stopping in front of them.

The harpies glance at each other in panic before looking back at their master. “W-We didn't mean–”

“It appears I’ve treated you too well,” he says decisively. “If you’re bold enough to defy my orders, then perhaps you need to be reminded of your place.”

You gulp. You’ve heard that tone. You’ve heard those words. But you have a feeling Feyd’s threats toward his harpies are not as empty as the ones he throws at you, and it makes your stomach squeeze.

Your presence in Giedi Prime’s fortress being the indirect cause of their harm is nothing less than unjust. It’s not their fault their master brought fresh meat home. They cannot control what they are, and Feyd routinely encourages their behavior, excluding only you from the list of bodies they are allowed to feast upon. If anything, this is his fault.

“Get up!” he shouts, and they scramble to their feet.

You rise up on your knees as he turns and yanks open the bedroom door. “Feyd, wait, you don’t have to–”

“Stay!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you.

Your mouth snaps shut and you sit, watching as his harpies obediently follow him out the door. Within the minute, you hear the screams and squeals of pain, and you wince, pressing your hands over your ears.

You don’t know how long you stay in that position. It’s Feyd’s touch that jolts you back into the present.

You look up.

Red is speckled across his torso. You feel a slickness on your face from where he is cupping your cheek, and when he pulls his hand away, you notice the rivers of blood running through the spaces between his fingers.

Without a word, Feyd pushes you down onto the bed, rearranges the covers so they drape appropriately across your body, and crawls under the sheets to settle in beside you.

“What did you do to them?” you ask.

His eyes are already closed by the time the question fully leaves your lips. He blows out a heavy breath through his nose and turns on his side to wrap his arm around your waist. “Removed a few fingers,” he says. “Now go back to sleep.”

“But–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” he grumbles in demand. “Unless you’d rather I change my mind and toss you into their feeding pit…”

It's one of those empty threats, but you don’t press him further. Not for tonight. Tonight he is tired and grumpy and nothing about you pushing him will do you any good. So instead, you allow him to do as he wants. And what he wants is to tuck your head under his chin, eliminate all space between you, and hold you in a grip that is just short of suffocating.

[99woez]

don't talk about it ᰔᩚ j.sc

warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!

wc. 5k

summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.

Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.

He was so large that you couldn’t resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.

Except for the times it did.

“You’re so stupid sometimes, oh my god!” You shouted at your so-called “best friend,” shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasn’t like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.

If we’re being honest, you two have been drinking. It’s not like you’re shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.

"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.

“Let go,” You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a “Hm?” as he does so, challenging you.

“Chill out first.” That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout. 

There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldn’t stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadn’t known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you would’ve ditched him when you two graduated high school.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.

“I won’t chill out! I won’t! What you did was fucking rude!” You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. It’s what he does when he’s annoyed and holding himself back, beating someone’s ass. It’s a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someone’s ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. You’ve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.

Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when you’d see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than you’d like to admit. Sungchan didn’t hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that you’re not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.

“Get your hand out of my face,” Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you weren’t deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.

“No. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude,” Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you don’t move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.

You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.

“You had no right-”

“You were never going to talk to him if I didn’t! You’re a chicken-”

“I’m not a fucking chicken––Oh my god, don’t call me a bird.”

“You’re such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. ‘Took you months to even say hi to him, and that’s because-”

“Shut up.”

“That’s because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!” Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldn’t hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchan’s friends; half of the people you’ve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.

“Now, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,” Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because they’re true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. “You should be thanking me. You’re so ungrateful for everything-”

You lunged at him. You swear you don’t have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an “Oof!” sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. He’d flip you two over, and it’d be done. You couldn’t let him win this. You couldn’t do it. You had to prove it to him.

You don’t know what it was, but you had to prove it.

You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.

“Not fair-” He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldn’t believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d get this far. You’re not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. “Can’t fucking stand you, you know that? You’re such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.” You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesn’t say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.

You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.

“Hello? Say something!” You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You won’t lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.

“My dick just twitched.” 

Oh.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.

"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."

You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. There’s a tension growing between the two of you that you’ve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchan’s embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what he’d look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds he’d make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under his––Jesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.

“Like…Seriously?” Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.

You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. You’ve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girls’ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. You’re his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know you’re pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but you’re still caught off guard by it all.

Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchan’s hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.

Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.

Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.

The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.

You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.

“Take it off.”

And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchan––Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. You’ve thought about it before. How could you not? He’s beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You would’ve never guessed you’d be on top, but it’s not like you can’t get into it for Sungchan. You’d do anything for Sungchan.

"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that he’s always been considerate, even when he’s on the verge of losing control.

"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.

Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but can’t bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.

Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You don’t argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.

His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.

He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like he’s looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.

With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. You’re immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like he’s in a trance, staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You can’t tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like you’re boiling from the inside out. It aches, but it’s so intoxicating that you want more of it.

You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. You’re so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.

Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.

"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a moment’s hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.

“Fuck,” Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.

“Feels good, Sungie?” You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you don’t want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and you’d do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.

Then, his hips roll into yours.

Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself you’re just dreaming it.

You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. You’re fucking your roommate on your living room floor––You’re fucking your best friend on your living room floor.

Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.

Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchan’s cock against your walls.

"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. ‘Should’ve fucked you soon, hm?” Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way he’s stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.

Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.

“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.

The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like it’s his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds you’re making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.

He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.

You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name. 

Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.

You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.

Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"

Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That was…"

"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…That was crazy,” You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that you’re both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you can’t drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.

So, instead, you close your eyes.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[no-144444]

his disgraced pop princess- (o.piastri 81)

-------------------

-------------------

summary: oscar is there for you through your first real GP weekend

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! reader

warnings: cyberbullying ans slut shaming

-------------------

Oscar Piastri was nervous. It had been two days since he first met you, and now it had been 4 hours since he last texted you. Beside him, Logan was scrolling on his own phone, still making fun of Oscar’s ‘awful puppy-love’, as he called it. It wasn’t awful, just slightly overboard. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and he was enjoying it. You were funny, sweet, and probably just busy, right? 

Oscar: Doing anything else today? I’m stuck training all day. 

Oscar: Studio…? 

Oscar: I think the fans need new music (it’s me, I’m fans)

-------------------

You were anxious. It had been two days since you met Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri, and now he’d texted you multiple times while you were busy being on a plane. Beside you in the Uber, was Hallie, your best friend, texting her new mystery boy and laughing at your freak out over not texting him back. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and you loved it. He was asking all the right questions, he was funny, he was so supportive of you going up against Charles, and evidently, a screenager. 

“I feel bad!” you groaned as you tried to type something out, but nothing seemed good enough. 

“You were on a plane, what was he expecting, a carrier pigeon?” she chuckled. “He’ll survive without texting you for 4 hours, calm down.”

“What do I say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me the damn phone.”

You: Sorry I was on a plane and their carrier pigeon network was down. Oops :)

“He is diabolical,” she laughed. “Immediate response, does he not have a life?”

You rolled your eyes and snatched back the phone. “Shut up!”

Oscar: Too bad, I was hoping you were busy making new music :(

You: Well, I’d need inspiration for that and that is the one thing I don’t have. Well, that and people that like me and want to listen to my music.

Oscar: :( 

Oscar: What are you doing today?

Y/n: Lawyers, seeing Charles, helping put the case together and finishing up the legal side of my split from the band. Aka boring as fuck :)

Oscar: Good luck seeing Charles again, I hope it isn’t too bad.

Oscar: Whenever we’re on the same continent again we should meet up for dinner :)

Y/n: Sounds like a plan, and thank you. Good luck with training today :)

“You two deserve each other. You’re equally as cheesy,” Hallie rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not cheesy to like someone,” you scoffed, getting out of the car. “You’re just alone.”

“Not anymore,” she chuckled. 

“Shut up!” you cheered. “Who?”

She smirked. “Tell you later.”

You rolled your eyes. “You suck.”

“I’ll see you later,” she called as she walked off. You were left standing alone. Before walking in, you took a deep breath and willed yourself not to burst into tears. 

-------------------

“It’s defamation!” Charles shouted, making you jump. Everything he did was making you jump. You hadn’t realised how badly everything had affected you until today. You were jumpy, you felt sick, you weren’t sleeping, you weren’t there mentally. 

“No, you’ve defamed Ms. Y/l/n’s reputation,” your lawyer calmly pointed out. 

You wanted it to stop, you wanted everything to stop. You wanted to go back to Sunday and relive the race over and over again. You wanted to be with Lewis again, with Toto again, with Oscar again. You desperately wanted to feel safe. 

Your lawyer was good, and you knew you’d win the case against Charles no matter what, but cleaning up the band would be a big undertaking. You’d always been the one to sign documents for all of them, so that they could pull out at any time. That now meant that you were technically the owner of the name of the band, the licensing rights, the songs, and the money you’d all already made. You were hitting them where it hurts, and you were taking it all. If they wanted to push you out, you’d push them right back. 

“Y/n, come on. It’s all of our band, and we deserve our name, at least,” your brother, Alex, begged. Up to last week you would’ve done anything for him. Now, he was fucking dead to you. 

“You can keep one thing,” you answered, not even looking at them. They prematurely celebrated and thanked you, but you held up a hand to silence them. “You can keep your instruments. I’ll take everything else.”

The room erupted into shouting, from every member of the band. You just got up and walked away. The meeting was over. You had it all. 

-------------------

BREAKING NEWS! WINGS BAND MEMBER Y/N Y/L/N DELETES INSTAGRAM, IS SEEN WITH F1 DRIVER OSCAR PIASTRI,  AND IS PHOTOGRAPHED LEAVING A LAW FIRM!

The 22 year old singer, Y/n Y/l/n is fresh into the scene of being a solo artist after being dropped by her band ‘WINGS’. This weekend she was seen around the Silverstone paddock with long-time friend and possible boyfriend, Lewis Hamilton. Shockingly, the newly crowned ‘Queen of Homewrecking’ is also sticking her nose into another man, Australian driver Oscar Piastri. The pair were seen walking together in the paddock, looking quite close. We would advise him to steer clear of her mess if he was able… 

In another turn of events, Y/l/n decided to delete her entire Instagram page, as well as her Twitter, Tiktok, Threads, and all other social media accounts. While she has opted for a ‘social-media-break’, her close friends and family have not posted about her, but some more famous friends have, including Lewis Hamilton answering questions about her in an interview during the Media day of the British Gran Prix. When asked about his opinion on the band, he said this. 

“Y’know, half of the success of them (WINGS) was Y/n. She really pulled everything together and no one really sees that because she was so careful about showing people that. She never wanted anyone to feel like they (the rest of the band) weren’t 100% committed, because at that time, they were. It’s just sad how people turn on each other, especially after everything she’s done for them.”

And when asked about Charles O’Brien, he had this to say. 

“That pathetic piece of s**t can f**k off and get out of the paddock. There is no place for him here, on any stage, or anywhere in the world. He is a vile creature.”

In other news, she was seen exiting the Law firm, Cravath, Swaine & Moore this afternoon, and 40 minutes later, the rest of the ‘WINGS’ band was seen leaving, looking much more upset than her. 

Something tells us there might be more than meets the eye in this twisted tale…

-------------------

“Hey Y/n,” Oscar’s voice was music to your ears as you sat in your hotel room with dried tears on your cheeks. 

“Hi,” you answered, voice hoarse, just happy to not be alone anymore. 

“How did it go?” He asked, his voice softening. 

You scoffed. “As badly as I thought it would,” you sighed, defeated. “I just wish it would all stop.” 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he sighed. “Charles is a special breed of dickhead.”

“So is the media,” you added. “Did you see the stuff everyone is writing about me? It’s awful-”

“I don’t read about you. I don’t need it anymore. I have the real you now, and that’s the you I’m interested in.” 

Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri strikes again. 

Your lips broke into a smile. “Thanks Oscar.”

“I mean it. I don’t give a shit about the media, like at all,” he was smiling, you could tell. 

“I’m glad. If you did I don’t think this friendship could’ve worked very well,” you chuckled. “You seriously don’t care that I’m a ‘homewrecking slut’, according to everyone else?”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Your heart swelled. 

-------------------

It had been a few months, Oscar had gotten his first win, you’d wanted to personally kill Zak Brown, you’d gone through the beginnings of the court proceedings for the band things, and you’d finally filed a report against Charles. 

Now, you were in London on your way to Abbey Road Studios. New music for the first time in a few months. First time you’d sung in a few months. Oscar walked beside you, his head covered in a hat to remain inconspicuous. 

You stopped outside the door. Oscar took your hand and pushed the door open for you, then led you in. 

“You’re here for a reason,” he reminded you with a squeeze to the hand. 

The past few months had been emotional to say the least. Yet, Oscar had been there for you the entire time. He truly didn’t care about the press. He liked you. He liked you a lot. You liked him. You liked him a lot. But you two weren’t dating, right? You didn't really know. Friends didn't hold hands, or cuddle, and usually weren't there for you before you make the biggest leap of your life.

He stayed beside you as you walked through the building, getting the grand tour from an employee, only leaving you when you finally went in to record. 

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, holding you in a tight hug. Inside was your manager, Ursula, and your producer Axel. “I believe in you.”

And those 4 words gave you the courage to go in there and sing. 

You sat on the stool they had set up for you, headphones on as Axel droned on about something insignificant, and you brainstormed. You hadn’t even thought about writing for the past few months, despite Oscar trying to convince you that it would make you feel better. You couldn’t touch it. Though now, with no consequences, no one looking at you, no one interested, you reached for the guitar and strung a few cords. You thought about Charles, about the band, about Oscar. Then you thought about nothing.

“When I’m away from you, I’m happier than ever,” You sang, and then the words came flowing freely. 

Three hours later, you had an album on your hands. A good album. A great album. 

-------------------

“You did it,” Oscar smiled as you stepped out of the studio. “Write anything?”

“I think I like you. Like, like like you,” you confessed. He smiled. 

“Good,” he answered. 

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I just said-”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’ve like like-d you since the day we met. I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

You stared at him in shock for a moment, then a smile spread across your face. “You’re such an asshole.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t want to rush you,” he shrugged. “Anyway, write anything?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, handing him a CD. “One of two in the world, don’t lose it.”

His eyes lit up, a big smile on his face. “Is this the perks of being Y/n Y/l/n’s boyfriend? Exclusive insight into new music?”

“Calling yourself my boyfriend?” you quirked an eyebrow, smiling. 

“Oh baby, I’ve called myself your boyfriend for the past 2 months, I’m not stopping now,” he smiled, and your heart could’ve melted.

You chuckled. "Always the charmer Piastri."

He smirked, then something behind his eyes changed, and he started blushing. He was about to ask you something important. “Come to Monza with me? Please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

-------------------

You touched down in Italy in Max’s private jet. You’d spent the afternoon getting to know him, Kelly, and Penelope, who’d taken a significant liking to you. The flight had been great, you’d never been on a jet before and it was as luxurious and comfortable as you’d imagined. Another part of the journey that was comfortable was Oscar letting you lay on him the entire time. You two were new but it looked like you’d been together forever. It felt like it too. It felt like he saw you. The real you. And he wasn’t scared or disgusted, or anything else that your brain told you he’d be. He was just Oscar. 

You left the jet, the perks of flying in the middle of the night meant that no fans were waiting for you outside. You didn’t need to add more flames to the fire of his insane life. You wanted to keep your ‘scandals’ to yourself and to just let him race. 

He gave your hand a squeeze to pull you back into the moment. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m ok, just nervous about this weekend.”

“You don’t need to be nervous, you don’t even have to leave my driver’s room if you don’t want to. I just… I wanted you here.”

“I want to be here,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I want to be around you.”

Even though it was dark, you could see the blush on his cheeks. 

-------------------

Media day began as it always did, walking into the paddock with about a hundred cameras on him. Only this time, the hundred cameras were pointed at him and you, more specifically, you two holding hands. It wasn't even a conscious thing you did. You just took his hand to try and calm yourself down. You liked how he gently brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, you liked how he would squeeze your hand every now and then, and you liked how he led you through the sea of reporters with a simple smile, and a firm hold.

When you got to the McLaren motorhome, you and Oscar parted ways with a quick kiss and a promise of lunch together. You decided to join Alex Dunne, one of McLaren's development drivers and a current F3 driver for a track walk and interview. You two chatted and laughed, getting on really well. The weather was sweltering, so you went back inside to meet Lando and Oscar for lunch.

"Y/n!" Lando smiled, running up to you.

"Hey Lan," you greeted, hugging him back as he engulfed you in one of his bear-hugs.

"How are you?" he asked, pulling back.

"All good thanks, you?"

"Fine," he shrugged, then turned his attention to Oscar and you. He smirked. "Has he asked you out yet?"

You chuckled, nodding. "He has."

"My ship has sailed!" He cheered.

"What? You have a boat?" Oscar questioned, as you and Lando laughed.

The rest of the day went well, only being bombarded with cameras every now and then, and somehow, whenever they found you, Oscar came right along to take you away. You appreciated the concern from him, and it definitely took the edge off some of the comments people made, especially the internet. Who knew you and Oscar would be such big news? Big news that hadn't even been confirmed, at that.

-------------------

After lunch, Oscar was forced into more press, this time, they decided to ask about you. You watched on from the McLaren hospitality as the interviewer said some choice words about you.

"So, you were seen earlier entering the paddock with Y/n Y/l/n, yes?"

"Yes," Oscar replied.

"You two were holding hands," she pointed out.

"There was a swarm of reporters, I didn't want to leave her behind," he shrugged. You quickly realised that you hadn't talked about whether or not you wanted to tell the media bout your budding relationship.

"So you aren't dating Y/n 'home-wrecker' Y/l/n?"

Oscar's face fell into a frown. "Her middle name is Y/m/n, not home-wrecker, and yes, I'm her boyfriend."

With that he moved on, leaving the interviewer shocked and defeated.

-------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[augustinewrites]

“pleeeease, shoko? as my best friend–”

“hold on,” shoko sputters, choking on her drink. “who said i was your best friend?”

“do you think i’d pay for lunch if you weren’t?”

the woman sets down her chopsticks, sending him an unimpressed look. “that’s what this is for? to bribe me into being your best friend so i can tell my actual best friend to go out with you?”

satoru leans forward in his seat, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m not asking you to tell anyone anything. i’m just saying, plant a few seeds here and there. maybe mention how devastated i was to get friend-zoned and that i’m way too hot to be strictly friendship material.”

“that’s way too unbelievable, coming from me. maybe you should ask nanami…”

“no, it has to be you. you think anyone would believe nanamin if he said i was a total smokeshow?” he asks, shaking his head.

“well, no one would believe him because it’s not true.”

“you’re being mean,” satoru pouts. “you’re supposed to be my best friend–”

“friendship isn’t how you’ll get me to do your bidding,” shoko interrupts. “i like whiskey.”

_____

“this is really good,” you hum in approval as you take another sip. it’s smooth, sweet, and strong. much better than any whiskey you and shoko have shared before. “how on earth did you afford this?”

“a friend bought a few bottles for me,” she waves off, settling herself into the opposite end of her couch. “so…how was your date on saturday? with that guy from the kyoto school?”

“it was okay. but i don’t think i’ll see him again,” you tell her honestly. “he just wasn’t…” 

“wasn’t gojo?” 

“what?” you ask. the idea that you didn’t enjoy your last date because he wasn’t gojo was downright ridiculous, but the quickened beat of your heart is trying to tell you otherwise. “why would you– you think i like gojo?” 

satoru gojo, whose second job seemed to be roping you into his nonsense back in your school days (and taking the fall when yaga eventually caught you). who showed off during missions and always yelled for you to watch (he has a small scar on his cheek from a failed infinity barrier projection). who now routinely showed up to your apartment uninvited to watch a film with you (and always left with a few rolls of your toilet paper).

“you don’t have to like him,” your best friend says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “you just have to sit on him.”

“ieiri!” you shout, horrified. “we’re friends. friends don’t sleep with friends.”

“what? i slept with him once - in a moment of complete weakness - and we’re still friends.”

“but now you no longer sleep with men,” you point out. 

she seems taken aback by that for a moment, but eventually shrugs it off. “true, but it’s different for you guys.”

“how?”

shoko fills the bottom of her glass with a heavy pour. “because he’s actually in love with you. he may be stupid and annoying, but maybe he does the things he does around you because he likes making you laugh, even if it’s at him.”

_____

satoru stumbles backwards into the wall, using his grip on your waist to pull you flush against him. you’d barged into his apartment, ignoring his questions and immediately pulling him in for a kiss.

“i thought–” he tries to get out between kisses. “–you didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

you draw back to look at him, smiling. “i have other friends.”