#and i really want to touch on that in this story

[msunitedstatesjames]

I've touched on this in a couple of other semi-related posts before, but I find it hilarious and I appreciate how much Johanna Hezenkoss thinks Emmrich is the protagonist of Veilguard. Like, this woman could not give less of a fuck about Rook. She almost always refers to Rook only by their relationship to Emmrich. She refers to Rook as "one of Volkarin's hangers-on," "that impudent whelp following [Emmrich] around," "Volkarin's companion," and as Emmrich's "paramour." None of these imply that she thinks Rook has much agency. Instead, she acts like Rook is just helplessly following Emmrich around like a puppy, helping him complete tasks (which I guess is partly true).

If Rook romances Emmrich, Hezenkoss assumes that Emmrich seduced Rook and not the other way around, even though Emmrich is noticeably older than Rook and has hardly left the Necropolis in years. She's seemingly amazed by it, and yet it never once crosses her mind that Rook might have initiated the relationship (which is actually the case).

She also refers to Emmrich as the one who destroyed her construct, which is technically true, but she ignores the major assistance he had from Rook, another companion, and most notably Manfred. He couldn't have pulled it off without their help, and had in fact given up, but Hezenkoss acts like Emmrich was her sole opponent in that battle.

I've said before that part of the reason for this is that Hezenkoss seems to think of herself as the main villain of the story, so Emmrich must be the main hero. Hezenkoss says that some of the other big bads of Dragon Age, the Venatori, were nothing more to her than slightly useful and genuinely annoying. She clearly thinks herself above an entire organization of some of the most powerful mages in the world. And she sees Emmrich as pretty close to her in terms of raw power, since she almost invited him to her Vengeance Party but ultimately decided he was too much of a danger to her plans. She also states that she tried to get him to join her in the past, which I don't think she would do for anyone she considered to be less than her equal. Emmrich is genuinely the only person in the game she shows any respect for. Though she mocks his age and finds him to be too sentimental, too moral, and too fearful, she shows signs of agreeing with him on some topics, and she obviously respects his abilities if nothing else. No one else in the game acknowledges his frankly ridiculous knowledge and skill level (except Solas in the end) as much as Hezenkoss does.

And really, Emmrich does have main character energy. Though he does have some age and mortality related fears, dude is overflowing with confidence. When you first meet him, looking for a Fade expert, he has absolutely no problem telling you he's the best possible person for the job. Though he apparently hasn't left the Necropolis in years, he's totally down to join the team and go anywhere you want him to go. If you romance him, he is initially surprised, but he quickly turns into the smoothest dude around, and throughout the game you can hear him comment on some of his many relationships through the years. He's well-dressed, well-spoken, charismatic, highly educated, unfailingly kind, extremely powerful, and he's done so well for himself that Harding mistakes the son of a butcher and a cook for a member of the Nevarran nobility. No wonder Hezenkoss thinks he's the protagonist. The real protagonist is just out here winging it on guts and good luck alone.

[darkbluekies]

OOOO THE SLEEPING THING IS SUCH A GOOD DRABBLE/REACTION IDEAAA

The yanderes or Silas reacting to darling falling asleep in their arms for the first time 👀👀 ( aka first stage of Stockholm syndrome 🥰🥰)

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, unhealthy relations, mentions of murder

Silas:

It'd be the first time after coming up of the basement that you've fallen asleep in his arms. He would be overjoyed, wouldn't dare to move in fear of waking you up. You fit so perfectly well in his arms. It had taken him such a long time to get here. The one that dared to interrupt would be shot dead, and their corpse burned.

"Such a sweetheart, aren't you? You must be a very unlucky person since you're able to control my heart like this. Poor little thing, but don't you worry, misfortunes wouldn't dare touch you as long as I am here."

Dr Kry:

He wouldn't be able to believe it. He had sat down beside you on the bed to read you a story, and you had fallen asleep against his shoulder. You had been so mad at him these last few days after witnessing things he didn't want to show you, and now you had fallen asleep on him. His mind would go blank.

"You must be really exhausted if you even fall asleep on me. Sleep for as long as you like. I'll still be here. Always."

King Edmund:

He doesn't know how, doesn't know why, but you've fallen asleep in his arms for the first time since the massacre in the ballroom. He grins widely and looks at the maids in the room — "told you I'd manage to do it". would tighten his embrace.

"That's right, Y/N, this is your righteous place. Good that you've finally got that through your head. In my arms, nothing can touch you."

Jerry:

She would not be able to take her eyes off of you. It'd be the first time she would be able to look at you at this close of a distance. She'd let your head rest on her chest as she ran her hands through your hair, letting her nails scratch at your scalp.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd thought that you were comfy. But you wouldn't be stupid enough to let your guard down around me, would you? Stupid."

Hedwig:

Shed be on cloud nine. You feel comfortable enough to show her your most vulnerable side? What has she done to deserve such a thing? Hedwig would hold you tightly and hush every time you'd move, terrified to let the blissful moment end.

"Sleep, my love, sleep for as long as you want. You're safe. God, you're so cute. I think I'll explode."

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere soldier with Stockholm syndrome

Part Two of Yandere Soldier

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome

Yandere! Solider who can't get you to talk to him. You'll sit curled in the corner of the bed, resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you books, flowers, even old picture albums he finds stashed at the bottom of your cupboard. And still nothing but silence.

Yandere! Soldier who's beginning to think nothing will ever break it. That he's stilled that vicious tongue of yours forever. Who hates himself for what he's done, but what choice did he have? Yes, he's taken you from your home and family and all that was familiar. But was an interrogation room really the better option?

Yandere! Soldier who comes home with a nasty cut all across his arm. Some dumb kid got smart and slashed him when his back was turned and now he's forced into recovery leave for a week.

At first, you just watch him struggle to change his bandages. But something about his injury, this reminder of mortality, sticks with you. You pluck the roll of bandages straight out of his hand and wrap his injury for him.

Yandere! Soldier who stays frozen while you work, terrified of frightening you away. Who basks in the intimacy of it - your bowed head, the delicate smell of your perfume, the pulse fluttering at your throat.

Yandere! Soldier who has to swallow and breathe before he can find his voice again.

Спасибо

Thank you.

You shrug and let go of his arm. Yandere! Soldier who hates to loose your touch. Who wants to pull you back and force you to cradle his face in your palms. But he doesn't want to ruin this tiny bit of progress.

Yandere! Soldier who fills the silence with his stories. Who tells you about his training, his childhood, the places he's been deployed to and how happy he was to leave them. Who teaches you words in his native language, even if you don't bother repeating them.

Yandere! Soldier who comes home exhausted and aching, who sprawls on the bed with a groan and instinctively reaches for you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to bite back a yelp of surprise when he feels your climb onto his back and straddle his waist. You slowly knead at his muscles, massaging away all the knots and tension and lingering aches.

Yandere! Soldier who has to stifle a moan because it feels so damn good.

Yandere! Soldier who finds you waiting at the door the next morning, still as quiet as a monk. He's immediately suspicious. Are you going to make a run for it? Instead you stand on your tip toes and press a quick, uncertain kiss to his cheek.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps touching the place you kissed him, even when it's hidden under his mask.

Yandere! Soldier who cooks you dinner most nights, even if he's dog tired, even if all you do is push it around your plate.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you news of the city and the war effort. The resistance is faltering, it's leaders hunted and put down like dogs. Part of him hopes the news will make you more pliant. Why fight the inevitable?

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't like the way your eyes get hard when he talks about the resistance, the way you clench your jaw and look away from him.

You mutter something and it takes him a moment to decipher it.

"I should be out there with them."

Yandere! Soldier who tries and fails to contain his anger. Who grabs your jaw and pulls you up to face him.

"If you were out there, you'd be dead. Can't you be thankful?"

You're quiet again after that and he stops bringing it up.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't leave anything sharp around the apartment, but is still surprised when you ask him to trim your hair. He sits on the bed with you between his knees, carefully filtering the hair through his fingers. You're so close to him - willingly - that it makes him feel almost lightheaded.

Yandere! Soldier who carefully dusts the cuttings off you and is secretly pleased when you don't flinch away.

Yandere! Soldier who isn't sure how to react when you start greeting him at the door. At first he watches you warily, expecting you to bolt the second you can. But for some reason you don't and a part of him insists that you're starting to like it here.

Yandere! Soldier who exercises every evening, his shirt off and his black fatigues slung low on his hips. He likes it when you watch him and he'll usually throw in a few extra push-ups just to impress you. He complains that he doesn't have enough weight around for his workouts and you take to draping yourself across his back when he needs it.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself craving you, even with your cold silence. Who is constantly aware of you around the apartment and has to force himself to look away.

Yandere! Soldier who turns off all the electricity in the dead of winter and claims it was damaged in the fighting. It's icy cold in old buildings like this and it doesn't take long for it to wear you down. Soon you're curled up against him, glaring at him to keep his hands to himself.

And he does, for the most part.

Yandere! Soldier who wakes up to you sobbing, your face pressed into his chest. He tries to soothe you, but you flinch away. You whisper between the sobs, sounding afraid and hateful and needy all at once.

"I love you..."

Yandere! Soldier who instantly understands what's happened. He's spent the better part of his life in war zones afterall, and it's more common than you'd think. Yandere! Soldier who secretly hoped for this outcome all along.

Yandere! Soldier who soothes you as best he can, stroking your hair until your sobs turn to whimpers. He presses his lips to your forehead and tells you to relax, that this was bound to happen, that's it's not your fault.

Yandere! Soldier who holds you in his scarred arms and knows that he's finally caught you, body and soul. Who says the words you long for but dread hearing.

я тоже тебя люблю

"I love you too."

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (1); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Word Count: 6.6k+

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Warnings: nothing major for now, lmk if i should add anything.

A/N: okay so after much thought, I decided to write this fic because Crazy Rich Asians is, without a doubt, my ultimate comfort movie. I literally rewatch it every chance I get because there's just something about the vibes, the story, and the characters that I can never move on from. That’s exactly why I wanted to create my own little version of it, with Jungkook as the main character. let me know your thoughts and tell me if this is worth continuing. also should i make a taglist for this?

part 1

Jungkook sits in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his water glass. The soft hum of classical music mingles with the low chatter of the people around, but none of it distracts him from the bubbling anticipation inside as he waits for you.

It’s been four months since the two of you had officially started dating, and though you guys had been cautious about defining what you meant to each other, these past months have solidified everything for him. You aren’t just someone he likes... you’re someone who makes his world brighter in ways he never thought possible.

New York has been his home for years now, but it didn’t always feel that way. When he abruptly moved here with his mom during high school, he reluctantly traded the familiar streets of Busan and the ocean breeze he grew up with for the city that never sleeps.

The move was sudden, jarring even, but over time, he adjusted. The city shaped him, sharpening his edges and teaching him resilience. Now, he’s built a life here, chasing his passion for storytelling as a photographer and documentary filmmaker, capturing untold stories that deserve to be heard.

Life was peaceful... steady, even. And then you walked in and turned everything upside down, in a good way.

He met you almost a year ago, purely by chance. He was documenting behind-the-scenes moments at a charity gala, a commission he almost didn’t take, when you appeared, orchestrating the chaos of models, designs, and flashing cameras like the professional powerhouse you are.

You were magnetic, the kind of person who commanded attention without even trying. Jungkook watched from behind his lens, capturing candid moments until one of your colleagues introduced him to you.

“Ah, so you’re the genius behind the lens.” you teased, offering a hand. “I’m Y/N, the one responsible for the clothes you’re immortalizing.”

Your confidence threw him off guard, but what stayed with him was your laugh... so soft and so genuine, the kind that lingers in his mind long after the event ends.

What followed after was a series of serendipitous run-ins—an art exhibit here, a mutual friend’s dinner there. Each meeting peeled back another layer of who you are, until he realized he was utterly captivated.

Now, as he waits for you to arrive tonight, Jungkook can’t help but think of how far the two of you have come. A lot can change in a year, he thinks. His lips tug into a small smile at the thought of your teasing voice, your quick wit, the way you light up every room you enter. You’ve become the best part of his life, and for the first time in years, he feels genuinely happy.

The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and there you are. You wear a soft pink dress that hugs your form perfectly, your hair framing your face in a way that makes his heart skip. When your eyes meet his, you smile instantly, and Jungkook feels his pulse quicken.

“Sorry I’m late.” you say as you reach the table, placing your bag on the chair as you watch him pull out the chair for you. “I got caught up at work.” you say, taking a seat.

“No need to apologize.” he says warmly, going back to his side of the table. “You’re here now and you look... incredible.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though your cheeks betray you with a faint flush. “Says the guy who looks like he just walked out of a GQ spread.” you giggle.

“Only because I knew I’d be sitting across from you.” he shoots back with a grin. You laugh, shaking your head as you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “Flirt.”

The conversation flows as effortlessly as always, a mix of updates about your respective work lives and lighthearted banter. You tell him about the chaos of coordinating last-minute changes for an upcoming fashion week, while he shares stories from his recent project, a documentary highlighting immigrant artists in the city.

But midway through dinner, he notices a shift in your demeanor. Your laughter softens, and you begin fiddling with the edge of your napkin, a subtle sign of nerves he’s come to recognize.

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his hand gently over yours. “You okay?” he asks, his tone soft but laced with concern. You glance up at him, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

His brow furrows slightly, but his touch remains steady, reassuring. “I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath, your gaze flicking between him and the table as you speak. “So, um... in three weeks, my brother is getting married. The wedding’s in Daegu, my hometown and my whole family's planning.. all these... these events leading up to it, and...” You pause, mustering the courage to meet his eyes. “and I’d really like you to come... with me.”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily caught off guard. You’ve rarely spoken about your family during your time together. All he knows is that you have an older brother whose name is Kim Taehyung, and that your work keeps you far from home. You’ve always been reserved when it comes to personal matters, and he never pushed, understanding that some things take time to share.

“You want me to meet your family?” he asks, his voice careful but touched with wonder.

You nod, your fingers curling slightly under his. “I know it’s a big step, but... you’re important to me, Jungkook. I want you to know them and I want them to know you... and i just.... I just want you to be there.”

His heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hasn’t felt in years. He squeezes your hand gently, a soft smile curving his lips. “Of course I’ll go.” he says, his voice steady and full of certainty. “Thank you for asking me. This means a lot, Y/N.”

You exhale, relief washing over your features as your lips tug into a smile. “You have no idea how nervous I was to bring it up.”

“Well, you don’t have to be nervous about anything when it comes to me.” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. “Though... should I be nervous about meeting your family? Any tips I need to survive?”

You laugh, the tension melting away as his words reassure you. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you... I hope.”

“They’d be crazy not to.” he grins, his confidence laced with a playful charm.

As the conversation moves forward, Jungkook can’t shake the weight of what you’ve just shared. This isn’t just an invitation... it’s a glimpse into the part of your world you’ve kept hidden. And he knows, without a doubt, that he wants to be part of it.

//

The three weeks seem to blur together for Jungkook, filled with excitement, planning, and the growing anticipation of returning to Korea. Now, he’s standing just outside the bustling airport, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, glancing at the crowd for any sign of you. He knows you’ll be here soon with the tickets, and just the thought of seeing you has a smile tugging at his lips.

It’s been years since he last visited Korea, and the idea of going back stirs up a mix of emotions... nostalgia, eagerness, and a tinge of nervousness. But it isn’t just your family he’s excited to meet... he can’t stop thinking about reuniting with Yoongi, an old friend from his university days.

Jungkook remembers how they first met. Yoongi, fresh from Daegu, adapting to the fast pace of New York, with a wit and humor that made their friendship click instantly. They spent countless nights bonding over shared meals and dreams, but after Yoongi finished his studies and returned to Korea, they lost touch. Now, the opportunity to see him again feels like a bonus to this trip.

When Jungkook had mentioned that he'd be visiting Daegu for a short trip to Yoongi during a rare phone call, Yoongi had insisted, “You better visit me for lunch or dinner the second you land, Jeon. I’ll be waiting.” It had been less of an invitation and more of a command and a promise Jungkook fully intends to keep.

His thoughts are interrupted when he spots you approaching with your suitcase. Your face lights up the moment your eyes meet, and Jungkook feels his heart lift as he strides forward to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, planting a soft kiss on your lips, his familiar warmth seeping into you.

“You ready for this?” you ask, your grin contagious. “With you? Always.” he affirms easily, grabbing your suitcase to lighten your load as the two of you head towards security.

After passing through the usual chaos of airport checks, you finally board the plane. Jungkook trails closely behind, his eyes scanning the rows of economy seats, prepared to settle in for the long flight. But you keep walking, breezing past one row after another, heading towards the front of the plane.

“Y/N...” he calls softly, a frown of confusion crossing his features. “I think we passed our seats.” You barely glance back, simply motioning for him to follow with a playful wave of your hand. “Just trust me, Kook.”

Jungkook’s confusion only grows as you step into the business class section. His steps slow as he takes in his surroundings... the stark difference from the cramped seats in economy hits him instantly. Business class looks like another world.

The seats are spacious, arranged in private compartments with high partitions for privacy. The lighting is soft and ambient, with a warm golden glow that feels more like a cozy lounge than an airplane cabin. Flight attendants move quietly through the aisles, offering passengers drinks and handing out fancy pajama sets.

Jungkook’s jaw drops as he watches you casually slide into one of the luxurious seats, making yourself comfortable. He hurries forward, his voice incredulous. “Y/N, this is business class... Our seats aren’t here!”

You look up at him with a calm smile, gesturing to the seat beside yours. “They gave me an upgrade.” you say simply, patting the spot for him to sit. His eyes narrow in confusion as he sets down his bag. “Upgrade? Can we even afford this?” he asks, using his hands to gesture towards the private compartment.

You laugh lightly, already reclining your seat with the touch of a button. “Relax, Kook. My family has some business ties with the airline. It’s just a little perk.” (Nick Young coded girlfriend)

“A little perk?” he repeats, his voice full of disbelief as he finally sits down. He presses a button on the armrest, watching in awe as the seat reclines into a flatbed. “Y/N, this isn’t a perk... this is a dream. Look at this place! It’s like a five-star hotel in the air.”

You grin, watching his childlike amazement as he fiddles with every feature. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to economy class now...that feels like a distant nightmare.”

A flight attendant approaches with a tray of pre-departure champagne, offering the glasses with a polite smile. Jungkook accepts one hesitantly, holding it up like it might break. “Champagne? On a plane? This is insane.” he continues.

You can't help but giggle at his cuteness as you casually take a sip from your glass as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

As the plane prepares for takeoff, Jungkook leans back in his seat, still marveling at the luxurious surroundings. He sneaks another glance at you, the contentment on your face making his heart swell. This trip is already shaping up to be unforgettable, and it hasn’t even truly started yet.

//

Jungkook feels the weight of your pout pressed against his chest as you stand in his arms, his hands gently brushing through your hair in a comforting motion. He can’t help but smile softly, though he feels the tiniest tug at his heart seeing you so disappointed.

He knew this lunch with Yoongi was important, and he knew you understood... at least, logically. But seeing the way you looked at him, that little furrow between your brows, made him feel a little guilty. “It’s just lunch, baby.” he says, his voice soothing, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek.

“I promised him, and he never takes no for an answer.” He chuckles softly, but his smile fades when he feels the reluctance in your grip on him.

You knew he had plans with Yoongi the moment you touched down in Daegu. You had known this from the start, had heard about the lunch plan in passing, but that didn’t make the feeling any easier to shake.

The thought of him going off without you, to catch up with an old friend while you drove home alone, kind of made you sad. You were fully aware of the importance of this lunch, but that didn’t stop the tiny selfish part of you from wishing he’d be with you, just for a little while longer.

“I know...” you murmur, your voice betraying the tiny bit of sulk in your tone, but you try to let it go. You weren’t going to hold him back. "Fine." you finally say, pulling back to meet his gaze.

And the way he looks at you affectionately makes you feel like you’ve won some small victory. “But...” you add with a little smile. “I expect you to be at my place at 7. You know my grandma’s having that traditional tea ceremony thing and I promised her I was bringing someone special home.”

His eyes light up at your words, the thought of joining you for something so important and so personal. “Of course.” he replies without hesitation, his voice earnest. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

You smile softly, knowing he means it. And yet, despite his assurances, you can’t shake the lingering feeling of missing him. Just a little. Before you can dwell on it too much, you hear a voice break through the moment.

“Ms. Kim.”

You turn, blinking a little in surprise as your driver steps forward, his presence bringing a sudden rush of formality to the otherwise intimate moment. “The car is here.” he states matter-of-factly, and you know that this is your cue to part ways.

You sigh softly, reluctantly loosening your hold around Jungkook’s waist, but not without giving him one last lingering look. Your lips curl in a pout, but you try to hide it behind the gentle smile you offer him.

“Okay then…” you start, your voice trailing off as you look at him, uncertainty settling in your chest. “I’ll see you soon?” The question hangs in the air, like a promise and a plea all at once.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, that familiar ache in his chest growing stronger as he sees the hint of vulnerability in your eyes. But then his lips curl upward, soft but sincere. “Of course, baby. I’ll be there. I love you.” His words are steady, and his eyes hold something deeper than just affection... something unwavering.

You nod quickly, feeling a mix of relief and longing. “I love you too.” you whisper back before turning away, following your driver towards the airport's exit.

Jungkook watches you walk away, his heart heavy in his chest, the pang of guilt creeping up again. He promises himself to make it up to you later. Now, he just needed to get through lunch with Yoongi.

But as soon as the sound of your footsteps fades and you disappear from his sight, his phone buzzes in his pocket. The familiar name on the screen catches his attention, and he answers without a second thought. “Hey, Mom.”

Her voice crackles through the line, warm but concerned. “Hello Jungkook-ah, I just wanted to check in. You landed safely?” she asks.

Jungkook listens to his mom’s voice on the other end of the line, the familiar warmth making him smile despite the anxiousness he feels about what’s ahead. He’s about to step into a world that’s so different from New York, where he’s spent most of his adult life. But now, back in Korea, things feel unfamiliar in a way that both excites and intimidates him.

“Yes, Ma... I landed a while ago.” he answers, feeling a small wave of relief hearing her voice. “That’s good, honey... How’s Y/N?” she asks with that gentle concern she always has for the people he cares about.

“She’s good. She just left though, and I’m waiting for Yoongi to come pick me up.” he replies, smiling softly as he instantly thinks of you. “How does it feel to be back in Korea?” he hears his mom question, her tone soft but curious.

He smiles, leaning against the nearest pillar with his luggage beside him as he waits for Yoongi. “So far, so good, but I’m still at the airport, so I can’t say much.” he jokes. His mom lets out a quiet laugh, the sound comforting.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she switches to a more serious tone. “Remember what I told you, Kook... Stay put there. You know how it is in Korea... with the elders and the... the people. It’s very different from here, so please take care with what you say and how you say it.”

It’s a reminder he’s heard before, but hearing it again feels heavier now that he’s here, about to meet your family and step into a culture that’s rooted in tradition and respect, something that’s been passed down for generations.

Jungkook’s smile falters for a moment as he nods, even though she can’t see him. He knows exactly what she means. He’s always been more carefree, more western in his ways of expressing himself, and in Korea, especially when it comes to elders, there’s a deep respect for hierarchy and custom that’s different from what he’s generally used to.

“I know, Ma. I’ll keep everything in mind.” he assures her, his voice more serious now. “You’re not a kid anymore, Kook, but just... be mindful, okay? Don’t let them misunderstand your intentions. I just want you to be careful.” Her voice softens with motherly concern, and Jungkook feels his heart warm.

“I will. I promise.” he replies, knowing that this trip, meeting your family... it’s more important than ever to prove to them that he’s not just another guy in the city.... he’s not just your boyfriend. He wants to show them how serious he is about you and the future you guys could have together.

He glances around at the busy terminal, the buzz of passengers and the distant announcements. It all feels so different from New York. So... foreign. But he’ll make it through. He’s used to adapting. And this, he tells himself, is just the beginning.

“Alright, Kook... you take care, yeah?” she says. Jungkook hums. "I will. Bye, Ma." he replies back and soon, the call ends.

Just as Jungkook tucks his phone back into his pocket, he hears a deafening roar that cuts through the murmur of the airport. The unmistakable sound of an engine revving... loud, aggressive, and powerful, draws his attention immediately.

His head snaps to the right, eyes scanning the street. His gaze locks onto a sleek purple Lamborghini, its engine purring with a force that vibrates the ground beneath him as it races towards him.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an instinctive suspicion flickering across his face as the car approaches. He’s not sure why, but something feels… off, or rather, intriguing. The car comes to an abrupt halt right in front of him, the tires squealing as they grip the asphalt. Jungkook freezes, blinking in disbelief.

The tinted window slowly rolls down, and for a moment, everything seems to move in slow motion. When the driver’s face comes into view, Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. “Yoongi?!” he exclaims, his voice tinged with utter shock and disbelief.

Yoongi grins, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ain’t no way...” Jungkook mutters under his breath, still processing the surreal sight of Yoongi sitting behind the wheel of a car that looks like it belongs to someone straight out of a high-stakes action movie. Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused by Jungkook’s reaction.

“What’s good, my man? Meet my baby.” Yoongi says with a sly smirk, his fingers casually tracing the contours of the steering wheel like this car was just an everyday ride for him.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open in awe. He can’t remember the last time he was this speechless. The purple Lamborghini gleams under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the neon glow of the airport. Jungkook’s eyes follow every curve, every sharp angle, as if seeing it in person is somehow more unreal than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi, clearly unfazed by the wide-eyed look Jungkook is giving him, steps out of the car with an effortless swagger. He’s dressed in an oversized, silk button-up shirt that drapes over his frame in a relaxed way.

The half-sleeves of the shirt billow out just above his elbows, adding a laid-back yet refined touch to his look. Paired with the shirt are matching shorts that reach just below his knees, the material soft and flowy, almost weightless.

Around his neck, a thick silver chain glints in the sunlight, its boldness standing out against the simplicity of his outfit, giving him an air of casual but undeniable wealth.

Without a word, he grabs Jungkook’s luggage from the ground and begins loading it into the trunk of his car.

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and watches him, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Get in, dude." Yoongi laughs with a nudge to Jungkook’s shoulder, his tone light, almost playful, as he walks back around to the driver’s side.

Jungkook slides into the plush passenger seat, still feeling like he’s stepped into another world. The interior of the Lamborghini is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. As his eyes roam around, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s in a dream.

Every inch of the car screams excess, sophistication, and unspoken wealth. The steering wheel is trimmed in carbon fiber, the gearshift feels solid in Yoongi’s hand, and everything seems perfectly engineered, like it was crafted for the few who could afford such a ride.

Yoongi starts the engine with a smooth hum, and Jungkook jerks his head towards him, still shocked. "You never told me you had a Lamborghini." he says, his voice betraying his disbelief.

Yoongi just laughs, his eyes glancing briefly at Jungkook before focusing back on the road. "Well, that's because I didn’t have this back in university." he shrugs nonchalantly, a casual smirk playing on his lips. The car pulls smoothly out of the airport, its engine growling like a beast waking up.

Jungkook stares at him, still processing everything. "But wow, dude? You hit the lottery or something? This car is insane." he breathes out. Yoongi chuckles again but doesn’t answer, as if the question doesn’t deserve a response.

The city of Daegu blurs by outside the tinted windows, the sun reflecting off the glass as they drive deeper into the heart of the city. Jungkook can feel the rhythm of the drive, the perfect balance between speed and luxury, as the Lamborghini effortlessly weaves through traffic, its engine purring in a low, contented hum.

The sound of the tires on the road and the occasional rumble of the car’s exhaust fill the silence between them as they talk. Their conversation drifts to more casual topics... catching up on life after university, their mutual friends, and everything in between. Jungkook listens intently, but something about the ride and everything else, still has him on edge.

Then, suddenly, the city streets begin to change. The hustle and bustle of downtown Daegu fades away, replaced by quiet, tree-lined roads and grand, gated estates. Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion. The mansions are larger than anything he’s ever seen.

Multi-story buildings with sprawling lawns, perfectly manicured gardens, and tall gates that exude old money. The kind of money that felt untouchable, like a world he’d never thought he’d be a part of.

Yoongi slows the car as they approach a massive set of gates, gleaming with metal and ornate designs. They pause for a moment, and Jungkook watches as the gates swing open effortlessly, granting them access to enter.

Jungkook’s eyes widen even more as they drive in, the long, curved driveway leading them deeper into the estate. The mansion that comes into view is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s grand and set against the backdrop of lush trees, with a modern yet classic architectural style.

The house gleams under the afternoon sunlight, its windows large and open, letting the soft glow of interior lights spill out into the day. As they pass by, Jungkook can’t help but notice the impressive collection of cars parked near the house, each one more expensive than the last.

There’s a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, a gleaming Ferrari 488, a silver Porsche 911 Turbo, and a sleek Aston Martin DB11, all parked in perfect alignment, as if they belong to the same elite circle. The cars shine brightly in the afternoon sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the elegance of the estate.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open, his mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding around him. He’s never seen anything like this in his life. "What is this… What is this place?" he breathes out, his voice almost reverent, like he’s stumbled into a world that doesn’t seem real.

Yoongi’s smirk is still there, a knowing glint in his eyes as he pulls the car to a stop, right in front of the grand entrance of the beautiful mansion. He looks over at Jungkook, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. "Welcome to my crib, Kook." he says.

Jungkook's mouth open, words just stuck in the middle of his throat. His mind is still processing everything, the scene outside seeming like a surreal dream. This is all too much to take in.

Yoongi was RICH rich and he didn't have a single clue about it. As they step out of the car, Jungkook notices a man approaching swiftly towards them and by the looks of his attire, it's clear that he's a guard.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi tosses his car keys at him, and the man catches them with practiced ease. "He'll grab your luggage in a bit." Yoongi says casually, already heading towards the mansion's entrance. Jungkook, still processing whatever the hell this is, follows him like a lost child, unable to do anything but take in the overwhelming sight that surrounds him.

The moment they step inside the house, Jungkook's eyes widen, but before he can even begin to appreciate the stunningly opulent interiors like marble floors or the high ceilings or the glistening chandeliers, a shrill voice cuts through the air. "Yoon, you're hereeee!"

Jungkook’s brow furrows as he watches a woman, probably in her 50s, stand right in front of them. She’s dressed in a chic, over-the-top outfit... a silk floral blouse with exaggerated puffed sleeves, tailored trousers, and a lavish pearl necklace that gleams with the faintest hint of arrogance.

Her perfectly styled hair is in a tight updo, and in her arms, she cradles a fluffy kitten, which she’s stroking affectionately, completely oblivious to Jungkook's stunned expression.

Yoongi barely reacts, his face giving away nothing as he responds, "Yes, mom." with a tone that suggests this is nothing out of the ordinary. Without hesitation, he gestures towards Jungkook, who’s still very much amused. “This is Jungkook, a friend from New York.” he introduces calmly.

She steps closer to Jungkook, her eyes widening as she takes in his appearance. "Such a handsome face." she says with a bright smile, fluttering her lashes dramatically. Jungkook feels his ears turn red, but tries to mask it with a polite smile.

"Come, come, why are you still standing by the door?" she continues in a sing-song voice, already turning towards the grand dining hall. "Lunch is just about to be served."

Without waiting for a response, she leads them through the sprawling corridor, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Jungkook follows, still processing the luxury surrounding him.

As they enter the enormous dining room, the sheer size of the table takes his breath away. It looks like something straight out of a royal palace, with intricately carved wood and sparkling silverware laid out meticulously. Seated around the table are five people, two men, a woman, and two little girls. The air feels heavy with formality and expectation.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook's distracted gaze, gestures towards each person with casual confidence. "That's my dad." he says, pointing to the middle-aged man sitting at the center of the table who gives Jungkook a bright smile, as he nods acknowledging his presence.

"That's my brother, Geumjae." Yoongi continues, nodding towards the younger man seated to the left. Geumjae has the same sharp features as Yoongi, and he cheerfully waves at Jungkook. "Yooo." he says.

Next, Yoongi points at a woman sitting beside him. "That's his wife, Chaeri." he adds, the warmth in his voice making it clear they have a close bond. "And those are his daughters, Minji and Yuna." he finishes, gesturing to the two little girls sitting next to each other as they giggle shyly to themselves.

Jungkook nods politely at everyone, his nerves creeping in as he takes in the situation. Yoongi's family seems very welcoming, but he's still extremely nervous. He’s not used to this kind of environment, and it shows, but he quickly remembers his manners. He straightens up and gives a right-angled bow, a gesture of respect that his mother taught him for situations like this.

"Hello, I’m Jungkook." he says, his voice steady but laced with a slight hint of uncertainty. He smiles warmly at them, hoping his attempt at a formal greeting isn’t too awkward.

Jungkook feels a shift in the atmosphere as Yoongi's father lets out a hearty laugh. "Yahh, no need to be so formal." he chuckles, waving a hand dismissively.

"Come, take a seat before the food gets cold." His voice is warm and inviting, making Jungkook relax a little. Geumjae, his brother, nods in agreement. Jungkook looks at Yoongi, unsure, but Yoongi simply gives him a small shrug and gestures for him to sit.

They both take their seats, followed by Yoongi’s mother, who settles herself gracefully at the table. Jungkook glances around, noticing the opulence of the setting... the gleaming china plates, the glistening silver cutlery, the rich aroma of the food filling the air. He feels a bit out of place but tries to steady himself, taking in the high-end cuisine laid out before him.

Once everyone is served, Jungkook’s mind races for a moment as he looks at the elaborate dishes in front of him. He’s unsure where to begin, not used to this kind of extravagant meal. It’s all so foreign to him, but before he can pick up his chopsticks, Yoongi’s father breaks the silence.

"So, what brings you here, Jungkook?" he asks, his deep voice cutting through the air with curiosity. Jungkook swallows his nerves before answering.

"Oh, I’m... I’m here with my girlfriend for her brother’s wedding." he replies politely, hoping his words don’t come out too awkwardly.

"Wedding, huh?" Yoongi chimes in from beside him, raising an eyebrow. Jungkook simply nods in acknowledgment, hoping the conversation will shift.

"So this is your girlfriend’s hometown?" Geumjae asks, his voice calm but probing.

"Yes." Jungkook confirms with a small smile, relieved to stick with the easy part of the conversation. "But damn, dude, when did you get a girlfriend? The last time I remembered, you were afraid to even approach girls in university." Yoongi teases, a smirk on his lips.

Jungkook freezes for a moment, feeling a flush of discomfort rise in his chest. The comment feels casual, but the atmosphere around him is so formal that it catches him off guard. He glances around the table, noticing that everyone is relaxed and waiting for him to answer, as if this were a normal part of their dinner conversation. He takes a breath and tries to steady himself.

"Well... I wasn’t really afraid to approach them." he says, carefully choosing his words. "I just had other things to focus on." He offers a half smile, hoping to deflect the attention.

Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused, but doesn’t push any further. "What did you say her name was again?" he asks, his tone light.

"Oh... it’s Y/n." Jungkook replies, a smile creeping onto his face as he thinks about you. Just saying your name makes him feel warm inside, and he can’t help but let a soft grin escape.

"Y/n?" Yoongi’s mother repeats, her brows furrowing slightly, as though the name is familiar but somehow surprising. Jungkook tilts his head, not fully understanding the change in her tone.

He nods, confirming with a small smile. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name."

The sudden shift in the room is palpable. Yoongi’s mother’s eyes widen, and her voice grows louder, almost demanding. "You mean... Kim Y/n?" she repeats, her tone now sharp, causing everyone at the table to freeze. The clinking of silverware stops as if time itself has paused.

Jungkook blinks in confusion. He can feel the weight of their collective gaze on him, a tension that wasn’t there before. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name." he says, his voice firmer this time, trying to keep his composure. He doesn’t understand why your name is causing such a stir, but he can sense something is off.

"Dude... the Y/n you’re dating is... Kim Y/n?" Yoongi’s voice is incredulous, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He leans back in his chair, almost scoffing in disbelief.

Jungkook’s confusion deepens. He looks at Yoongi, eyebrows furrowed. "Uh... yeah? You know her or something?" he asks, still trying to piece together the odd shift in the conversation.

Geumjae chuckles, clearly intrigued. "Who doesn't?" he replies. Jungkook furrows his brows, still lost. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, his voice laced with perplexity.

Before anyone can respond, Yoongi’s mother’s face lights up with a sudden realization. "Wait, wait, wait, so the wedding you're here for... it's... it's Taehyung's, isn’t it? It’s Kim Taehyung’s wedding!" She beams, her expression a mix of surprise and excitement, as if the revelation is the most obvious thing in the world.

Jungkook’s mind races. He’s still trying to connect the dots, but the sheer shock on Yoongi’s mother’s face throws him off balance and he wonders how she knows that information. "How... How do you know that?" he asks, still trying to process everything.

Before anyone can answer, Yoongi shifts in his seat, leaning slightly towards Jungkook, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Dude... do you have any idea.... who your girlfriend is?" Yoongi asks, the question hanging in the air like a bombshell.

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, not understanding the gravity of the situation. His mind struggles to keep up, but he can't seem to make sense of the turn this conversation has taken. "What?" he asks, still confused. "Why... why are you asking me that?"

Yoongi leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if he’s just realized something monumental. "Dude... do you know who 'The Kims' are?? You're dating someone from 'The Kims'. That is literally insane." he states, his voice filled with disbelief.

He looks at Jungkook, half-amused, half-shocked, but when he still notices the utter confusion on his friend's face, his expression softens slightly. Yoongi leans in and places both hands on Jungkook's shoulders, trying to help him process the information.

"Dude, 'The Kims' are one of the most influential families in all of Daegu. Hell, in all of Korea." Yoongi’s voice is filled with a mixture of awe as he continues.

"They own so many companies, it’s insane. From massive real estate ventures, luxury hotels, tech firms, and even a few major pharmaceutical companies, they’re basically untouchable. Every major industry you can think of, 'The Kims' have their fingers in it." He leans back again, his hands still on Jungkook's shoulders, clearly enjoying his friend's stunned reaction.

"And Y/n? She’s a part of that family. I don’t even think you understand how big of a deal that is."

Jungkook’s mind is spinning. He sits there, his thoughts racing, but the words don't seem to connect. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, trying to make sense of everything that’s being said.

His head is still reeling from the idea that the woman he’s been seeing... someone he’s grown to care for so deeply... belongs to such a powerful family. He had never imagined that you, with your down-to-earth nature, would be connected to such wealth and influence.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook’s silence, smirks before continuing, clearly reveling in the shock he’s causing. "If you were shocked just looking at the estate I live in, wait until you see the kind of place Y/n lives in."

His voice lowers slightly, his tone growing more serious, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. "Her family’s mansion? It’s like something out of a movie. It’s not like any place you’ve ever seen before. We're talking private security, a sprawling garden, a real private estate. It's on a whole other level."

Jungkook feels his stomach tighten as he tries to digest what Yoongi’s saying. He can’t even fathom how he didn’t know this before, how he had no clue that something about your life was so different from anything he had known.

The thought of you being part of this world, a world so far removed from his own, leaves him just sitting there, not knowing what to do with this newfound information.

part 2 ->

[fantasybuff3186]

So I did a thing because i was bored. What do you think?

“Hey Delilah.” Todd suddenly asked, breaking the peaceful silence he found himself in with his girlfriend. “Yes Todd?” she was quick to answer as she looked up smiling from the book she was reading as Todd sighed contentedly, he’d always liked how attentive she could be to him. It didnt matter what she was doing or where they were, she always responded whenever she was close by. He counted himself extremely lucky to have such a beautiful and kind girlfriend and he tried to remind her of this everyday with small gestures like gifting her pink chrysanthemums(her favourite flowers) from the garden he specifically grew for her or by making her favourite dishes which he had specifically learnt to make for her. All Todd really wanted was to make sure his princess, his everything lived the most comfortable and the happiest life she could.

“Um Todd, you wanted to say something.” his girlfriend interrupted his thoughts. “Oh yes sorry, I just wanted to ask what you’re reading.” he said on being brought back to reality. “Oh I’m reading Hamlet.”

She answers immediately causing him to frown. “All over again?” he enquired to which she nodded her head enthusiastically, making him smile, he always enjoyed her enthusiasm and even more when she spoke with the same enthusiasm like she was right now.

She said, “its just such an interesting story and I really like Hamlet’s character in the story! Hes the only character I find interesting….” Todd couldn't hear the rest as he got lost in listening to her voice, so sweet, so beautiful and so kind.It was only when she tapped on his shoulder that he was jolted from his thoughts.

Once she was sure she got his attention she asked hesitantly, “D- did I bore you?” the hesitation and fear on her face made his heart wrench as he immediately touched her cheek and reassured her, “Hey hey nothing like that, I just got distracted, I love to hear you talk and sometimes your voice is the only thing I can focus on.”

On hearing that she smiled, flattered by his compliments as she shyly returned the compliment, “I like listening to you speak too.” Now it was Todd’s turn to blush at the compliment.

“Oh um..” he trailed off as she continued to speak, “But you know what I like the most?”. He looked at her curiously and raised his eyebrows quizzically as she asked, “What is it?”

Delilah spoke sincerely, “I like it when you smile, that sweet, sincere smile because when you smile like that all my fears, my worries seem to drift away. I like it when you smile but I love it even more when you laugh, that rich, comforting laugh. The laugh that fills my entire being with pleasure, that laughter that feels like the warm sun, that which sounds sweeter than music, sweeter than the ripest mango. So tell me Todd, why aren't you laughing?”

She said as her skin became bone,her face frozen in an expression of pain as she leaned against a tree, his hand still touching what was her cheek.

Write a happy story without conflict. Then with the last sentence, turn it into a horror story.

[haveihitanerve]

The comments were usual. Frequent even. Bruce bore them all with a smile, either acting like a bored teenager forced to attend the events he had planned, or blushing, sculpting the Brucie persona before he had even reached his twenties. 

“Oh Brucie!!!” They would twitter at him, women and men alike, pawing at his arms, his shoulders, chest, some even boldly reaching for his ass, snaking an arm around him, pulling him closer. “You look delicious baby.” They’d murmur, pur, coo over him. 

Alfred would get rightfully angry over the comments, when Bruce told him, but after the anger led to nothing, Bruce stopped coming home with the stories. He just went to bed, showering off all the handprints and touches. 

And then Dick came along.

“Bruuuuuuuuuce!” The nine year old whined, hissing the ending syllable like a snake. “I wanna gooooo!!!” Bruce chuckled lightly, fixing his cuffs in the mirror. 

“I highly doubt it chum.” He murmured, glancing over at his ward, seated on the foot of his bed. Dick pouted, the full package; lip out and arms crossed, and Bruce laughed, walking over to grab his tie and ruffle the boys hair. 

“Its a boring Gala, bud. Not too exciting.” Dick huffed, watching as Bruce expertly wound the tie around his neck, swinging the sides over and through. 

“Its a pARty!” He pointed out. “And I wanna go.” Bruce hummed to show he was listening, buttoning up the bottom two buttons of his suit, before letting his hands drop to his side. 

He sighed. “Do you want to wear a suit?” Dick’s eyes sparked up with excitement before he wrinkled his nose. 

“Do I hafta?” He complained. Bruce laughed, turning to face him. 

“Yes. Its a formal event. Suit, or you’re not coming.” The threat of a suit made the words take a moment to sink in, but once they did Dick rocketeded across the room, flying into Bruce’s arms. 

“For real???” He squealed, all excitement and little kid energy. “Hell yeah!” He bolted out the door to his own room before Bruce could so much as open his mouth to chide “language.” 

The car ride over was a new level of annoyance Bruce didn't know existed, as Dick bounced around in his seat, eagerly looking out the window for the first glimpse of his first “real adult party”. Still, he couldn't help but smile at Dick's unbridled joy.  

Hank, Bruce’s chauffeur, bore all of it with a smile, regaling Dick with stories of picking up Bruce when he was a teenager, and all the college hell, while Dick cackled and Bruce rolled his eyes. But, then again, Hank had his own three kids at home, and was marginally more used to the watts of energy than Bruce was. 

“Here ya are Mr. Wayne.” Hank finally cut off all of Dick’s peppering questions about Bruce’s college stories, a relief, as Hank was really getting into the bad stuff, or in Dicks mind, the good stuff, and Bruce hopped out, opening the door for his son. “Thank you!” Dick twittered as he leapt out, waving. 

Hank chuckled, dipping his hat. “Of course Mr. Wayne, hope you have a fun night.” Dick grinned back, and it surprised Bruce that he was so okay with hank calling him “Wayne.” But, then again, his boy and the driver seemed to have an easier relationship. Bruce certainly wasn't going to call him out. 

It did something to him, flooded his body with something heavy and warm, to hear Dick be called “Wayne”. Maybe a primal thing, an old animal instinct, the need to claim and own and have Dick. Dick was his son, maybe not by blood, but by… everything and anything Dick allowed him to have. 

“B!” Dick chirped, already a few feet up the steps, a frown on his face as he looked back. Bruce realized he’d been lost in thought at the side of the road. 

“Coming chum.” He agreed quickly, hurrying to his wards side before the entered. 

“Woah.” Dick breathed, the second they breached the door, and Bruce silently agreed. Gala’s weren’t fun for a plethora of reasons, but they were always beautiful. 

Almost immediately though, camera’s swarmed him, not only flashes of light but also of sickeningly white teeth, too wide mouths, pale skin pawing for his attention. 

“Brucie, darling!!!” One man twittered, and they successfully separated them, dragging Bruce over to one gaggle of rich twats while a few others circled Dick. Dick seemed to be taking it remarkably well, nodding politely and smiling, shaking hands, but his eyes darted to Bruce every few seconds, questions in his eyes. 

“Excuse me-” Bruce brushed past his virus of people and forced his way beside Dick, kneeling so he was at eye level.

“Everything alright?” he murmured quietly, tucking Dick into his space, warding off others. He almost wanted to say “i told you so” but figured it’d only do more harm than good. Pointing it out when Dick was clearly overwhelmed would not be helpful, or nice in any capacity. 

Dick nodded, shoulders imperceptibly dropping in relief as he allowed himself to be caged by Bruce’s body. “Y-yeah. Fine. Better now.” Bruce let the unspoken words hang between them, “-that you’re here”, and nodded instead, standing. 

“Stay close.” he flicked his fingers and Dick obediently stepped closer, pushing into Bruce’s space with hardly a thought.

And, Bruce realized quietly, he didn't mind either. Having people in his space… touch had never been his thing, after his parents death. Especially not when that touch came from unsympathetic elites after his parents money. But with Dick… it was, easier. Nice. 

The rest of the night went by a little better, and Dick even stepped away a few feet, always close by, but straying enough that he wasn't hiding behind Bruce’s legs. In his shadow. It was then that it happened. 

“Oh aren’t you just beautiful.” The words came from Mrs. Braught, a well known widow with enough wealth to compete with the Drakes, if not Waynes. She was… known for her affinity to younger men, boys, really, and Bruce had only managed to not make the cut because he had known, as a boy, and avoided her, and wasn’t as “appealing” to her, due to his depression. 

Dick stiffened slightly at the words, but still offered her a smile, polite, as always. The reaction made Bruce relax marginally. He was okay, he was handling it, just like Bruce had. 

But… but Dick’s smile was strained, his shoulders inching near his ears, and there was a definite tilt to him, a lean away from Braught that was easy to miss. But not to Bruce. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Bruce was at his wards side- no, in front of him, shoving Dick behind his legs. Dick stumbled, lightly, at the sudden push, but quickly straightened, grabbing the back of Bruce’s coat. The trembling Bruce could feel through the fabric was enough to make him see red. 

The Brucie persona was gone, slipping off without a singe thought, fast enough that Bruce wondered for a fraction of a second if it had even been on when he had entered the Gala, and Bruce realized it wasn't just Dick’s hand trembling, but Bruce’s whole body. 

His fists curled, hard enough that his knuckles turned white, jaw clenched to the point where his teeth squeaked, entire body quivering with rage. 

Mrs. Braught glanced up, surprised, almost caught off guard even, as she realized Brucie Wayne wasn't there for a pleasant hello, but Bruce was there, a man- no, a father, furious at what was being said about his son. 

Bruce could hear, faintly, as though through water, people beginning to whisper, eyes wide as the elites gathered around, no one bold enough to step in, and no one truly believing Brucie would do anything. 

Bruce didn't care. Dick was his, and he would not allow the traumas of the past to repeat, though he had failed to stop him from being orphaned. No more. He vowed, hands fisting at his sides. He had failed Dick in the one, true way that mattered, keeping his family, but he would not fail him any other way. Not in the ways Bruce was failed. 

His hand began to move back on its own accord, when a tiny, stubborn hand caught it, grabbed his wrist. Bruce looked down in surprise to find Dick staring up him solemnly, shaking his head.

Before Bruce could say something, another woman, another widow Bruce recognized as Mrs. Kershaw, stepped forward, fire bright in her weathered eyes. 

“You go on and git out of here Gertrude, before I tar your hide.” She hissed, and Bruce recalled how her own daughter had been raped and murdered when she had been barely thirteen. Gertrude knew it too, and backed away, scurrying for the exit. Mrs. Kershaw made sure she left, eyes kind when she glanced at Bruce, a subtle nod of solidarity her only acknowledgement. 

Dick tugged on his hand, but Bruce ignored him, sending a viscous glare at anyone who dared step too close. 

“Dad.” Dicks voice was soft, so soft, but proud too, grateful. That finally dragged Bruce from his never ending anger, and he looked down. Down at those wide blue eyes, that head of messy black curls.

“Come on Dad.” Dick whispered quietly, eyes darting around nervously at all the people, the cameras, but always going back to Bruce. Meeting his eyes. 

Bruce bent down and scooped his son into his arms, uncaring of who saw, who cared. He blocked his son off from the world, heading for the exit, one of the waitstaff, Aisha, nodding at him to inform him Hank had been called. 

“Thanks Dad.” Dick murmured, face buried against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce’s arms tightened around him, heading out into the streets of Gotham with his son cradled to his chest. 

“I’ll always protect you chum.” He swore, and something in his heart lightened at the Justice he was doing for his son, but also for his younger self. “I will always protect you.” 

thanks to @frownyalfred and @astorianyxkings for the idea!

[solxamber]

haii can i req octotrio, malleus, and leona (all seperate!) with a reader like kokomi from genshin thats also a jellyfish? romantic or not it doesn’t matter to me ^_^ also feel free to add more characters the more the merrier :3

Leona, Octatrio, Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Rook, Rollo x Kokomi!Jellyfish!Reader

a/n; i felt pretty inspired so i added quite a few <3

Leona Kingscholar

Leona pretends he’s indifferent, but your serene and calculated demeanor throws him off.

The first time he sees your glowing form under the moonlight, he blinks twice, convinced he’s hallucinating. “Tch, what’s with the light show? Trying to blind me or something?” But secretly, he’s mesmerized.

Your habit of calmly handling disputes in the dorm (often between Ruggie and others) frustrates him. “You can’t just talk people into behaving,” he grumbles, only to watch you succeed every time.

Leona’s competitive side comes out when he learns about your strategic mind. Chess games with you become a weekly ritual, and losing to you annoys him more than he’ll admit.

Despite his gruffness, he’s deeply protective of you, especially when someone comments on your jellyfish-like features. “Say that again, and I’ll show you why you don’t mess with jellyfish.”

Sometimes, he watches you float gracefully in water, pretending he’s there for a nap. “Stop staring at me, Leona.” “Who’s staring? I’m just resting my eyes.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is immediately intrigued by your jellyfish traits and calm demeanor—after all, you’re a marine creature, and that’s his territory.

Your bioluminescence is something he secretly envies, though he’ll never admit it. “A marvelous ability,” he says while scribbling notes for future contracts.

Your strategic thinking makes you one of the few people who can keep up with him in negotiations. He offers you a job at the Lounge almost immediately, “to better utilize your talents.”

Whenever Floyd or Jade annoys him, Azul uses you as a buffer. “Perhaps you could… calm them down?” And, to his astonishment, it works. Even Floyd listens to you.

He’s absolutely fascinated by your glowing hair and jellyfish-like appendages. “Do they serve a specific function, or are they purely aesthetic?” he asks while trying not to sound overly eager.

Azul secretly finds your tranquil nature soothing. After a long day of scheming, he’ll seek your company under the guise of “strategic discussions,” but really, he just wants to hear your voice.

Jade Leech

Jade is utterly fascinated by you from the moment he meets you. Your resemblance to a jellyfish sparks his curiosity.

He constantly asks you questions about your biology, glowing abilities, and lifestyle. “Do you use your bioluminescence to lure prey, or is it purely decorative?”

Jade enjoys teasing you, especially when you’re peacefully floating in water. “You look so serene. It’s almost a shame to disturb you.” Then he splashes you.

He respects your calm and collected demeanor, but he’s determined to find out what flusters you. Watching your serene mask slip is his new favorite pastime.

If someone dares insult you, Jade’s smile grows even sharper. “I wouldn’t recommend making an enemy of a jellyfish, you know. They’re far more dangerous than they appear.”

He enjoys your company during his hikes, fascinated by how your glowing presence adds an ethereal beauty to the forest.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is absolutely obsessed with you. You’re a jellyfish, and jellyfish are cool—end of story.

He immediately nicknames you “Jelly,” much to your mild exasperation. “C’mon, Jelly! Let’s go do something fun!”

Floyd loves poking at your glowing features. “What happens if I touch this? Will it zap me?” (You have to swat his hand away repeatedly.)

Your calm nature intrigues him. “How do you stay so chill all the time? Don’t you ever wanna, like, flip out?” He sees it as a personal challenge to get you riled up.

He’s oddly protective of you. If anyone messes with you, Floyd’s mood sours instantly, and you have to calm him down before he does something drastic.

Floyd loves dragging you into the water to “swim like real jellyfish.” His playful nature contrasts hilariously with your serene floating.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus finds you absolutely enchanting. Your ethereal glow and calm presence remind him of a fairytale.

The first time he sees you glowing in the dark, he’s convinced you’re some sort of spirit. “Are you a creature of the night, summoned by the stars?” You laugh, which only confuses him more.

He adores your serene demeanor and often seeks your company when he’s feeling lonely. “You have a calming presence. It is… soothing.”

Your strategic mind impresses him. He occasionally consults you on matters of state, and your insight leaves him in awe.

Malleus is enchanted by your glowing features and bioluminescence. He often compares you to the stars and moon. “You shine as brightly as the night sky,” he says, his voice soft.

He’s protective of you, especially when others don’t understand your unique traits. “Anyone who dares mock your beauty will answer to me,” he declares, his aura dark and foreboding.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is equal parts fascinated and exasperated by your serene and dreamy nature.

He struggles to reconcile your gentle demeanor with the strict order he upholds. “You can’t just let them get away with breaking rules.” But you always seem to handle things so effortlessly, he can’t help but feel a little envious.

The first time he sees your bioluminescence, he’s stunned. “W-What are you glowing for? Is that some sort of trick?” He secretly thinks it’s mesmerizing.

Your calmness has a soothing effect on him during his temperamental moments. When you gently suggest he take a deep breath, he can’t find it in himself to argue.

Your strategic mind earns his respect, especially when you help him resolve dorm conflicts with minimal drama. He finds himself seeking your counsel more often than he’d like to admit.

He tries to deny how much your presence comforts him, but when you glow softly under the moonlight, he’s reminded of the beauty of following one’s heart.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil finds you utterly captivating, both for your glowing beauty and your ability to remain so composed under pressure.

He immediately notices your bioluminescence and praises it as “natural elegance.” He may even use it as inspiration for his next photoshoot.

Vil admires your calm demeanor but insists on refining your presentation. “Grace comes naturally to you, but you must carry it with intention.”

Your ability to remain poised even under stress makes him jealous sometimes. He spends hours perfecting himself while you seem effortlessly radiant.

The two of you often engage in long conversations about leadership and balance. He’s impressed by your thoughtful insight, though he won’t always admit it.

He pretends not to care when others praise your ethereal glow, but he can’t help but feel proud, especially when you stand by his side at events.

Rook Hunt

Rook is absolutely enchanted by your jellyfish-inspired traits and ethereal aura.

The first time he sees your bioluminescence, he dramatically declares, “Magnifique! You are a creature of the heavens, a glowing gem beneath the sea!”

Rook constantly watches you, fascinated by the way you move and speak. He calls it research, but it’s really just admiration.

Your calmness intrigues him. He frequently tests your patience with his flamboyant antics, but you never falter, much to his delight.

He adores how your strategic mind contrasts with your soft demeanor. “You are as cunning as you are serene, ma chérie méduse.”

Rook writes poems inspired by your bioluminescent glow, claiming that no words could ever truly capture your beauty.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo is conflicted about you. Your calm, composed nature intrigues him, but your glowing features remind him of magic—something he loathes.

The first time he sees you glowing, he’s visibly unsettled. “Is this some kind of magic trick? I don’t trust it.” Yet, he can’t look away.

Your tranquil demeanor softens his usual disdain. He begrudgingly admits that you’re… tolerable, though his fascination with you grows daily.

Rollo’s jealousy flares whenever others praise your ethereal beauty. “They’re only bewitched by appearances,” he mutters, trying to convince himself he’s not affected.

Your intelligence earns his respect, though he won’t openly say it. He finds himself relying on your calm judgment more than he’d like.

Despite his feelings about magic, he catches himself enjoying the way your glow lights up dark spaces. It’s almost… comforting.

Masterlist

[sceletaflores]

come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

you can't sleep, logan left his door open...

Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.

It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.

You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.

In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.

It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.

Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.

The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.

You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.

It was raining the first night he touched you.

You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.

A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.

Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.

You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.

It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.

Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.

You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 

It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.

At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 

You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 

Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.

You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.

You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.

And then, one night, the rain came.

You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 

You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”

There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 

You didn’t pull away.

The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.

He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.

He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.

You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.

It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.

You figured that was enough.

The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.

The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.

The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.

It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.

The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.

You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.

The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

And that hasn’t dared to change.

You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.

He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.

There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.

You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.

When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 

He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.

You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.

His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.

But then he speaks.

“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.

You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”

You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 

You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.

“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.

You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.

Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.

“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”

“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.

Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.

Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.

You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.

Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.

You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.

But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.

Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.

“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.

His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”

The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.

He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.

You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.

"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.

“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 

Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”

Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.

You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.

His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"

Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”

Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.

“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”

You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.

Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.

“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 

You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.

"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."

Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.

A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 

His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.

"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.

It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.

His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.

Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.

You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.

“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”

Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.

“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.

You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.

You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.

Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 

His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.

“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”

You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.

You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 

His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.

Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.

You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire

“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”

The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.

A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 

The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.

Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.

And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 

You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.

Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."

His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.

His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”

You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.

Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”

You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.

Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.

Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.

“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”

“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.

Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.

Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.

A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.

Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.

You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 

Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.

His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.

"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.

Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.

“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.

You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 

And neither do you.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

chapter summary: After searching for answers about his past, Logan comes back to the mansion after finding nothing at Alkali Lake. When he comes back he sees you, the only thing he can remember.

word count: 6.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i skipped x1 (mostly because i felt like i couldn't place reader into the story and have her actually make a change in it) so we're starting with x2! don't worry, next chapter is going to make you sick with tooth rotting fluff

(also thank you for 700 followers!! and happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! <3)

warnings/tags: follows events of x2 (strays slightly), reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, light violence

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8

Alkali Lake held nothing. No clues, no leads, nothing. And because of that he’s still drifting, unable to remember anything but you.

He’s not sure when the last time he saw you was, he can only remember that he’s had you 5 times and lost you 5 times.

But now… now he has nothing but fragments, barely more than dreams, and a dull ache he can’t ignore, even if he can no longer remember the details. He knows you were there, remembers the way your touch soothed him, the warmth of your voice—and each time he replays those memories, he feels something deeper, sharper, tugging at the places in him that will never mend.

---

Logan opened the doors to the mansion, Rogue walking towards him. “Logan!” She went up to hug him before quickly pulling back.

“You miss me, kid?”

“Not really.” She shook her head sarcastically.

“Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Who’s this?” Logan gestured with his head behind Rogue.

Rogue turned around, “oh, this is Bobby. He’s my- ”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Bobby cut in, shaking Logan’s hand using his ice powers, “call me Ice Man.”

Logan pulled away with a slight scowl, “right. Boyfriend? So how do you guys…?”

Bobby and Rogue shared a look, “well, we’re still working on that.” He said.

“Look who’s come back. Just in time.” Ororo spoke, as she walked down the stairs.

“For what?” Logan questioned.

“We need another babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Nice to see you again, Logan.” Ororo said kindly.

“Hi, Logan.” Jean spoke, announcing herself as she walked down the stairs.

Logan briefly looked her way, “Jean.”

“Uh, I should go and get the jet ready.” Ororo said quietly.

“Yeah, well, it was good to meet you.” Bobby grabbed Rogue’s hand, “come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Logan. I’ll see- I’ll see you later!” Rogue called out.

Jean walked in front of Logan, “Storm and I are heading to Boston. We won’t be gone long. The professor wants us to track down a mutant who attacked the president.”

“So it was a mutant.” Logan responded.

“You’ll be here when we get back- unless you plan on running off again.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I could—” His words trailed off as he caught sight of you. The stack of papers in your hands wobbled as you came down the stairs, muttering under your breath. He watched you, the tilt of your head as you pushed your glasses back up, the way you carefully balanced the papers in your hands.

You. He knew you. He knew that face, that presence. It hit him like a punch to the gut, an undeniable recognition buried beneath layers of fractured memories. You were the only thing that came back to him clearly in all the chaos. The short-lived lives you had, and every time it ended up with you dead in his arms.

He blinked, processing, as if you’d vanish if he looked away. You glanced up, catching his stare, and you stopped mid-step, eyes widening a little.

“Oh, uh… hi,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your glasses.

“Hi,” he echoed, still staring, as if searching for something familiar in the way you moved.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, then tried a smile. “You’re… Logan, right?”

He swallowed, feeling something catch in his throat. “Yeah. Logan.”

Breaking the tension, Scott walked down the stairs, “find what you were looking for, Logan?”

Logan barely acknowledged Scott’s words, his gaze fixed on you. The room, the people around him, the mansion itself—they all blurred, faded, became nothing more than static in the background. He knew you. The only thing he remembered clearly, despite all the fog in his mind, was you.

The stack of papers shifted in your hands as you glanced between him and Scott, your unease clear. It was like you sensed something, too, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Logan finally replied, his voice gruff, his eyes still on you. “Thought I’d… found something. Guess not.”

Scott didn’t seem too interested in probing. “Well, welcome back. Make yourself at home.”

But Logan barely heard him. He watched as you attempted a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “I… I should go.” You hesitated, lifting the papers as if they’d shield you. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

He nodded, his throat dry. “Same.”

You hurried past, your steps soft but quick, almost like you were escaping.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were one for the shy ones.”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve split wood, but Scott just shrugged and walked off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Logan debated following you. He’d known you before; he was sure of it. And even if he couldn’t recall the exact details, there was no mistaking the pull he felt, the way his chest tightened just being in your presence. He couldn’t remember much, barely fragments, yet you were a constant. And every time, he’d lost you. Every damn time.

---

After double checking that everyone was out of their rooms, whether taken or already escaped, you made your way to the secret tunnel, hitting the paneled wall as it opened.

You saw Rogue, Bobby, John, and Logan running down the hall. “Go on,” you said, letting the kids go through before you did. You noticed no one behind you as the door slid down, closing.

“Logan!” Rogue called out.

Bobby and John had already started to run down the tunnel while you stayed by the wall, ear pressed against it trying to hear what was happening.

Rogue stayed by you, clearly worried about Logan. You opened the door quietly as Bobby and John came back. It was quiet in the hall, Logan was walking slowly toward the older man as your eyes briefly fluttered shut, pausing the intruders in time.

“Logan, come on. Let’s go.” Rogue yelled out.

“Logan,” you said gently, as he finally turned his head towards the group.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But we won’t.” Rogue responded.

Logan contemplated for a few moments before walking towards you, “go. Keep going.” Logan entered the tunnel as the door closed behind him while you un-paused the men in the hall.

The five of you ran down the tunnel before climbing up a ladder to the garage. “Come on, get in. Get in!” Logan said.

You went to open the passenger door to the back when a large, warm hand landed on your waist, the grip warm and familiar even though you knew you'd never been this close to him before. Your breath hitched, and you glanced over your shoulder, only to meet his intense gaze as he gently nudged you toward the front seat. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, his touch almost hesitant, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory.

“Front seat, Y/N,” he murmured.

“R-Right. Thanks,” you stammered, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you slid into the passenger seat. He followed, taking his place behind the wheel, while Rogue, Bobby, and John piled into the back.

“This is Cyclops’s car.” Bobby said.

“Oh, yeah?” Logan unsheathed a singular claw, stabbing it into the ignition and turning on the car. The garage doors opened as the car sped out.

“What the hell was that back there?” John finally asked.

“Stryker.” Logan answered. “His name is Stryker.”

“Who is he?” Rogue questioned.

“I can’t remember.” Logan said quietly.

Rogue, after a few moments of silence, took off the dog tags around her wrist, passing them to Logan in the front, “here. This is yours.”

Even though you couldn’t see the kids in the back, you could tell they were uncomfortable with the silence. John leaned forward, “I don’t like uncomfortable silences.”

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked from beside him.

John turned on the radio as music played loudly from the car’s stereo’s, “bye, bye, bye…” Everyone groaned at the loud intrusion as John promptly turned it back off.

But, a small compartment opened, revealing a sleek metal device. “I don’t think that’s the CD player.” John said.

Logan grabbed it, twisting it in his hands. It blipped once, “whoa,” he muttered. Logan looked at John momentarily, “sit back.”

“Where we going?” John asked.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston. We’ll head that way.” Logan answered.

Bobby looked off to the side, “my parents live in Boston.”

“Good.” Logan said.

---

It was morning when you arrived at Bobby’s parents’ house. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “mom! Dad! Ronny! Is anybody home?” No one responded, the house was empty. Bobby looked at Rogue, “I’ll try and find you some clothes.” Bobby then looked over at John, who was continuously flicking his lighter open, “don’t burn anything.”

Logan was in the kitchen, trying to get the phone, or comm device he wasn’t sure, to work. He put it to his ear, “hello?” Static crackled over the device, “hello?” Logan asked again. “Come on, Jean. Where are you?”

You had just freshened up a bit when the door opened, Bobby’s family entering the house, looking at Logan in the kitchen with an open beer bottle.

“Hey, Ronny, next time you…” Bobby’s father started, but stopped when he saw Logan. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh…” Logan pointed at the stairs as Bobby ran down them.

“Bobby…?”

“Honey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Bobby’s mother asked. Rogue quietly walked down the stairs.

“Bobby, who is this guy?”

“Uh… this is Professor Logan.” Bobby paused before speaking again, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Soon, you all ended up in the living area, the kids and Bobby’s parents sitting down on the couch with you and Logan standing in the doorway.

“So, uh, when did you first know you were a… a…” Bobby’s mother trailed off.

“A mutant?” John spoke up, still flicking his lighter open and closed.

“Would you cut that out?” she said.

“You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted.” his father spoke.

“Bobby is gifted.” Rogue cut in.

“We know that. We just didn’t realize…”

His mother cut off her husband, “we still love you, Bobby. It’s just… this mutant problem is a little…”

“What mutant problem?” Logan interrupted, leaning against the other side of the doorway as you with his arms crossed.

“…complicated.” she finished.

Bobby’s father spoke again, “what exactly are you a professor of Mr. Logan?”

“Art.”

“Well, you should see what Bobby can do.” Rogue said.

Bobby leaned forward, gently touching his mother’s teacup with one finger as the tea turned to ice.

“Bobby…” his mother trailed off. She flipped the teacup on its side as the ice slid to the plate.

“I can do a lot more than that.”

His mother shakily put the plate and teacup on the glass table as the cat jumped up and started to lick the ice. Bobby’s brother Ronny left the room with a quiet anger.

“Ronny?” His mother called out as he went up the stairs. “This is all my fault.”

John spoke up, “actually, they discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on, so it’s his fault.”

A few moments later, the comm device started to beep. “Oh, God…” Logan took the device out of his pocket and started to walk to the sliding door, “it’s for me.”

“Bobby… have you tried… not being a mutant?” His mother asked.

Logan came back inside and locked the sliding door, “we have to go now. Now!”

“Why?” Rogue questioned. “Logan, what’s wrong?”

He walked to the front door, claws extended and you and the kids following to come face to face with police officers on the front lawn, point guns at you.

“Drop the knives and put your hands in the air.” An officer ordered from their right.

“What’s going on here?” Logan muttered.

“Ronny.” Bobby answered, coming to the realization.

“I said, drop the knives!” The officer ordered again.

Glass shattered from inside the house, “turn around! Up against the wall! Up against the wall!” An officer ordered Bobby’s parents, still in the living area.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Logan said.

“Put the knives down!”

Logan turned to look at the officer, “I can’t. Look,” he raised his arm slowly as the officer fired a shot, straight into Logan’s forehead.

Rogue screamed and you gasped as Logan hit the patio floor.

“All right, the rest of you- on the ground now!” The same officer ordered.

You, Bobby, and Rogue slowly sank to the ground, but John stayed standing.

“Look, kid, I said on the ground!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid.” The officer on the other side said.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” John flicked open his lighter as you murmured his name, “I’m the worst one.” He blasted fire at the officer who shot Logan, sending him off the patio. He turned and did the same to the woman on the other side, then inside the house at the two officers.

John turned forward, blasting fire at the officers on the front lawn, the car exploding, before doing the same to another police car. A siren sounded down the street, coming to the house, as John blasted another stationary car by the front lawn, throwing the moving car off track. He blasted that car too.

Rogue, on the ground in front of you, took off her white glove and grabbed John’s ankle. The fire in his hands died off as Rogue stopped the fires surrounding the police cars and lawn.

The bullet popped out of Logan’s head as he woke up, the Blackbird slowly landing in the street. Logan stood up, cracking his neck. Bobby and the kids rushed off the stairs first, heading to the jet.

Logan instinctively put a hand on the small of your back, not pushing you or guiding you just… resting there. You took a quick glance up at him before reverting your gaze back to what was ahead of you.

John was the first one to walk up the ramp, and the first one to see Kurt turn in his chair. “Guten tag.” Kurt greeted.

The rest of you got onto the jet, buckling in, “who the hell is this?” Logan asked.

“Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“As, save it. Storm?”

“We’re out of here.” The engines powered up as the ship jerked slightly while taking off.

---

“How far are we?” Logan asked, walking up behind Jean’s chair.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now.” Jean replied, as the console started to beep.

“I’ve got two signals approaching.” Ororo said, “coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Wow, somebody’s angry.” Ororo commented.

Logan looked back at John, “I wonder why.”

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now.” The two planes come up on both sides of the jet, “repeat-lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

The planes started to fly behind, “they’re falling back.” Ororo spoke. Rapid beeping sounded out from the console. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan asked.

“They’re going to fire! Hang on!” Ororo started to fly the jet in a defensive position as they buckled into their seats. “I got to shake them.”

The jet briefly flew upside down then righted itself, “please don’t do that again.” John said.

“I agree.” Logan remarked. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

The sky started to darken as dark clouds formed, quickly turning into tornadoes. The jet started to shake from the heavy winds as Ororo tried getting the two planes off their tails.

Once their radar was clear, Ororo stopped, the sky brightening back to its natural state.

“Everybody okay back there?” Jean questioned.

“No,” Logan answered simply.

Rapid beeping sounded out from the console once again, “oh, my God, there’s two of them,” Ororo said. Jean used her powers and took out one of the missiles, “there’s one more.” The remaining missile continued flying closer to them, “Jean?”

Jean gasped, “oh, God!” At the last second, Jean directed the missile slightly up, causing the back end of the jet to blow open.

Rogue, who wasn’t buckled in, flew out the back as Bobby yelled for her. Kurt briefly looked back before disappearing and then reappearing in the jet, right by the pilot’s seat next to Ororo and Jean as the jet nosedived.

The panels in the ship began to crackle as metal creaked and the back of the jet repaired itself. “Jean?” Ororo asked.

“It’s not me.” Jean answered, as the jet suddenly stopped, hovering over an older man and woman you didn’t recognize.

---

You had your head and arms buried deep into the jet's console, a strand of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to twist one more wire into place. The tech was scrambled from the missile hit, panels still flickering with bursts of static, and while it wasn’t exactly in your wheelhouse, you knew enough to give it a try. Besides, it kept your hands busy while the rest of the team talked to Erik around the fire and the kids set up tents.

After some time, you walked down the stairs of the jet, mostly for a small break from the incessant lighting and saw Logan smoking a cigar by the ramp. You almost turned around and walked back up, until he turned to look at you, more than halfway down the stairs.

You gulped and played with the tool in your hands as Logan looked at his cigar briefly, noticing the smoke was frozen in the air. He turned his gaze to the trees nearby also taking note that they were frozen as well; no wind blowing through their leaves.

“Ya always freeze time when you get nervous?” Logan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you, trapped in your own nervous suspension of time. You gave a tight, embarrassed smile, the tool in your hands twisting around your fingers as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to let go of the freeze.

“No. Only sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat. The trees resumed their gentle sway, and the smoke from his cigar curled upward lazily again. Logan watched the subtle shift, something almost playful glinting in his gaze.

He took another drag of his cigar, eyes not leaving you. “So, what’s got you nervous?”

Your fingers fumbled with the tool. “It’s, um… I don’t usually come across people who…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands.

Truth was, he made you nervous. Why wouldn’t he? He was… a lot of things, and in the few days you have known him you couldn’t help but feel more reserved than usual.

Logan leaned back against the ramp, watching you with a calm expression, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Care to be more specific?” He seemed content to let you fumble, patient in a way that only made your pulse quicken more.

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the tool in your hands. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the… whole mysterious, intense thing you’ve got going. That, and the fact that I accidentally freeze time whenever you look at me like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like…” You trailed off, finally looking up at him. “Like you’re trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure I want to know what.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan said, taking a drag of his cigar. His eyes softened a bit, and you felt a warmth settle over you. He didn’t push, didn’t pry—just waited. After all, patience was one of the many things he’d perfected over the years.

You shifted on your feet, glancing down to where your fingers had turned the wrench over and over, antsy. “Maybe I just don’t know what to make of you,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze again.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he replied, his voice low. There was something unspoken in his words, something you couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched out, and then, because there was something about the way he looked at you that felt like an invitation, you spoke. “Why’d you come out here, anyway? I thought you were all about avoiding everyone else.”

Logan flicked some ash off the end of his cigar. “Maybe I was gettin’ tired of avoidin’ things.” He paused, looking out toward the treeline, then back at you. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d freeze time again.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Not exactly something I can control.”

“Good to know,” Logan replied, smirking. He took another puff, the smoke curling up in wisps around him. “So, are you fixin’ that thing, or just givin’ it the ol’ college try?”

You looked back at the jet, the half-repaired panel flickering with static. “Oh, definitely just winging it.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a ‘wing it’ type.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The easy conversation brought a hint of a grin to his face, something warm and fleeting, and he tilted his head toward the jet. “C’mon, let’s see what else you can do, winging it.” He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you.

You looked at him, then back at the jet, a bit of excitement tingling under your skin. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what we can fix.”

---

“Stay with the kids.” Jean said. You opened your mouth to argue, you weren’t a child, yet it seemed like every mission you were treated like one. Never allowed on the field, never even brought in on a debriefing.

The rest of the group, other than Mystique who was already in the base, were outside the jet, making their way into Alkali Base. You were supposed to stay behind with Rogue, Bobby, and John.

“But, Jean—” you started, voice catching on the frustrated protest that lingered in your chest.

Jean turned, a hand on her hip and an exasperated look that was all too familiar. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. You’re here to look after them.”

“Right,” you muttered, crossing your arms, your gaze falling on the others, who were half paying attention, half pretending not to notice. Rogue’s worried glance lingered on you; Bobby looked between you and the hallway where the rest of the team had disappeared.

Jean’s expression softened just slightly. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? The kids need someone they trust to keep them safe.”

You glanced at Logan, who gave you a slight nod, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll stay with them.”

Jean pressed a reassuring hand to your shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.” She turned to catch up with the others, her footsteps echoing as they faded into the depths of the base.

Logan lingered for a moment, gaze unwavering. He looked at you for a beat too long, and something tightened in his expression. He gave a faint nod before heading off.

As the rest of the team disappeared down the corridor, John grinned, clearly amused by your frustration. "Looks like you got a babysitting gig, huh?"

You shot him a withering look, but Rogue was quick to jump in. "It's not like that, John."

“Could be worse,” Bobby added, trying to lighten the mood, ��at least we’re safe here.”

You leaned against the cold metal wall, fingers tapping the console out of habit. “Yeah,” you replied, though your voice held none of the certainty you tried to convey.

From the depths of the corridor, Logan’s scent still lingered faintly in the air. You felt the tug of something unexplainable—a pull toward him that you’d noticed ever since he first set foot in the mansion. It was like trying to remember something you knew you’d forgotten.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, clenched into a fist, feeling the temptation to slow time, to buy a few seconds to gather your thoughts and process what lingered between you and Logan. But with Rogue, Bobby, and John right there, you resisted, focusing on keeping things steady.

And, yet, as you listened to the faint sounds echoing down the hall, a deep sense of restlessness settled in your chest.

---

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly from the water before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“She’s gone,” Ororo said quietly.

The vision broke your focus as you flew the jet, the emergency landing protocol activated as it landed harshly, Rogue and Bobby standing in the cockpit by your seat.

A whoosh made you turn to the side to see Kurt putting Charles down in a seat. Kids started to climb up the stairs into the ramp as Ororo came by your side, “I got this, Y/N,” she said gently.

You let out a few more heavy breaths before standing up from the pilot’s seat, letting Ororo take your place.

As Scott fiddled with some of the controls, Charles spoke up, “Scott, we’ve got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

Logan finally climbed up the stairs, a young boy in his arms, “Bobby.”

“Hey, I got him,” Bobby replied, carefully taking the boy from Logan’s arms.

Logan watched for a moment as Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid, murmuring something reassuring to him. When the boy seemed to relax, Logan shifted his gaze to you, lingering just a beat too long, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

The jet was buzzing with energy as everyone settled in, but his eyes never left yours. You felt it, that weight, the unspoken thing hanging between you both ever since you met. The others didn’t seem to notice—Bobby was focused on the kid, Rogue was buckling in, and Ororo and Scott were adjusting settings on the console. But Logan, he was watching you, something intense simmering beneath his stoic expression.

You tried to brush it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the jet as it prepared for takeoff. But that pull was there, like something forgotten tugging at your memory, or maybe… not forgotten, exactly. Maybe something you’d never known.

Finally, unable to help yourself, you looked back at him. “What?” you asked softly, half a smile on your lips to cover the nervous energy prickling at the base of your spine.

Logan didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he replied, voice rough. But his gaze softened, just barely, and there was a glimmer of something warm. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

His words were casual, but you caught the faintest edge of something… familiar. Like a memory you couldn’t quite touch. You felt your fingers twitch, the familiar itch to pull time in around you, but you held back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear as you tried to shake off the strange feeling. “Thanks for asking.”

Logan nodded, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched you for a beat longer, almost as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did but decided not to say. Instead, he moved forward to Ororo, where her and Scott were trying to power the engines.

“What’s wrong?” Logan questioned.

“Vertical thrusters are offline.” Scott answered.

“So fix ’em.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hey, has anyone seen John?” Rogue called out.

“Pyro?” Logan asked. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s with Magneto.” Jean replied.

“…but I don’t know how long they’re going to last.”

“I’m trying to override, but it’s not responding.” Scott grunted, “come on!”

“Oh, no, we’ve lost the power.” Ororo said.

“It’s coming. Come on!”

“There’s power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

“Jean,” you whispered under your breath, too scared to act, fearing what would happen if you intervened. Instead, you watched as she walked down the ramp of the jet, glancing at the group one last time.

Charles tilted his head slightly to the side, “Jean?”

“Wait, where’s Jean?” Logan asked.

“She’s outside.” Charles said.

Scott bolted up from his seat to the ramp, but it closed as he got there, separating Jean from the rest of them. The consoles lit up as the engines came back online.

“No! We’re not leaving! Lower the ramp! Storm, lower it!” Scott yelled.

“I can’t!” She replied.

The water finally washed over to them, but because of Jean and her telekinesis it went around her.

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly-

“-power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

As Jean walked toward the ramp, you reached out and grabbed her forearm, halting her determined steps. Her head turned, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, her eyes softened. There was a weariness, a resignation in her look that you couldn’t ignore.

“Jean,” you whispered, tightening your grip. “There has to be another way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, staring into the distance. The ramp was only steps away, but she hadn’t pulled her arm free. “It’s the only way to save everyone,” she said, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would shatter whatever resolve she had left.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” you spoke quietly.

Jean tilted her head, looking at the cockpit one more time before back at you, “you rewound. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t tried to pull away, and you could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through your grip on her arm. She knew. Somehow, she’d pieced it together—how you’d rewound, maybe even more than once.

“Yes,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the jet, “but this time—”

“This time won’t be any different,” Jean cut in, a trace of regret in her tone. “Some things… you can’t just rewind.”

You tightened your grip, not willing to let go. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it has to end like this.”

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you couldn’t bear. “You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re a team, Jean. You can power on the jet, and I can pause the water.”

She looked away, clearly weighing every word you said against her own grim resolve, then back at you with a look of resigned understanding. "You don’t understand, Y/N. This—" she gestured to the waters crashing around them, then down to her own chest, her hand resting over her heart—"what’s happening to me... it’s too much. It’s a flood I can’t hold back.”

You could feel her pulse, still wild beneath your hand, and the memory of her last words echoed in your mind. "You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

But she wasn’t gone, not yet, and the desperation that rose inside you felt like a fight against fate itself. “Jean, I’ve seen things go wrong before.” The words slipped out, the ghost of a memory that you couldn’t quite catch. “But I can feel it this time… we don’t have to lose you. Just trust me.”

For a moment, Jean’s gaze softened, and her grip on her resolve wavered. “Y/N…” she started, and you caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—gratitude, or maybe even hope. Her hand rested lightly over yours, though you could feel her power humming beneath her skin. “Alright,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if something goes wrong… if it’s too much…”

You cut her off, squeezing her hand tighter. “Then we find another way. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

With a quick nod from Jean, you focused your energy, feeling time ripple and bend beneath your skin. Jean closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she took in the extra moments you’d gifted her, enough to gather her power without tearing herself apart in the process.

Outside the jet, the water slowed, hovering just a few inches away from the plane, frozen in time. Everyone held their breath, the hum of the jet's engines amplified in the stillness. Scott turned back to the controls, guiding the jet forward through the suspended water. “It’s working,” he murmured, almost to himself. "We’re moving.”

In the cockpit, you felt your pulse race as you held the time bubble steady, feeling the strain build in your bones. This level of control was more intense than anything you’d managed before, but you pushed yourself to hold on, the determination to keep Jean and everyone safe steeling your resolve.

The jet jolted slightly as it broke through the edge of the water and rose higher, out of immediate danger. But the strain was starting to build, the sheer amount of energy it took to hold everything at bay beginning to wear on you. Your hand slipped, and you nearly stumbled, but before you could lose your focus entirely, a strong hand caught your arm.

Logan was at your side, his face mere inches from yours, concern laced in his voice. “You good?” he asked, his grip grounding you.

“Yeah… just give me a sec.” You took a breath, focusing on the feel of his hand, the warmth in his touch that felt familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. With that small, grounding connection, you found the strength to hold the time bubble for a few seconds more.

When the jet was finally clear, you released the grip on time, and the rush of water resumed its course beneath them. You staggered slightly, feeling a rush of exhaustion course through you, but Logan’s arm was still steady around you, even as you fell to the ground, your eyes fluttering shut.

Logan’s grip tightened as you slumped back, your breath shuddering as exhaustion swept over you. His hand was warm, rough fingers gently brushing against your cheek, bringing you back just enough to the moment. Your back was draped over his knees, your pulse still racing as you struggled to catch your breath. The world was a muted blur, but his voice broke through, steady and low, anchoring you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your cheek. “You’re alright. I got you.”

It was only his words, and the softness in them, that made you blink back the haze of exhaustion. As your vision cleared, you saw his face just inches from yours, an intensity in his gaze that seemed to search for something… something deeper than he was saying.

“Logan,” you whispered, not sure why his name slipped out so easily or why it felt so familiar, as if you’d said it before, in another life or another time. But the look he gave you held a weight you couldn’t name, a history you couldn’t remember.

“You with me?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, but beneath it, there was something else, something almost pleading. He waited as you blinked up at him, your pulse slowly settling, tethered by his touch. “Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You tried to push yourself up, but the strain of holding time around the jet had left your muscles aching, feeling drained in a way you’d never experienced before. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, steadying you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling his warmth.

His face softened, a flicker of relief crossing his expression, though he didn’t let go. “You pulled us out of that mess,” he said, his voice low, and for a second, something raw flickered in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Freezing the water like that—it could’ve knocked you out cold.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t just watch Jean go.” You inhaled deeply, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced toward the cockpit, where Jean’s quiet breathing filled the jet with a fragile peace. “I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Logan gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. You felt the intensity of his gaze, as if he was seeing something beyond what you could understand. There was a warmth to it, one that made your heart stutter, something deep and unexplainably familiar. He paused, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve always been this way… haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, thrown by the hint of something personal, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He dropped his hand from your face, settling it on your shoulder, but you could still feel the warmth lingering where he’d touched you.

“Never mind.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. But his hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as the jet finally stabilized, the engines humming to life. You could hear the others bustling around, but for this moment, it was just the two of you, a silent understanding hovering between you.

“Logan…?” you started, not sure what you wanted to say or why his presence felt so deeply familiar. He turned back, a question in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you ask him about a feeling you didn’t understand? About a memory that didn’t exist?

Instead, you exhaled, letting the silence fill the space between you. “Thank you.”

He watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But he only nodded, a soft look crossing his face, one that felt almost like longing.

“Anytime,” he murmured, his hand finally slipping away, leaving a chill in its place.

“Y/N, you good back there?” Ororo’s voice broke the spell, and you managed a nod, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Just… catching my breath.” You gave her a small smile, forcing your muscles to relax, even as your heart was still pounding. Logan stood, his gaze lingering on you for a beat before he moved to check on the others. But before he left, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a silent promise, a feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was still there, still watching over you.

---

A storm crackled outside thanks to Ororo and everyone around the group was frozen in time courtesy of you.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” Charles said. The President looked over to the side where Kurt was crouched on a small table. He began to stand up slowly, “please, don’t be alarmed. We’re not going to harm anyone.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Rogue.” Charles briefly glanced over at her, as she placed a large file onto the President’s desk. “These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker.”

The President started to flip through the file, “how did you get this?”

“Well, let’s just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls.” Charles said, as the President looked over at Kurt who let out a quiet snicker. He finally sat back down.

“I’ve never seen this information.”

“I know.”

“Then you also know I don’t respond well to threats.”

“Mr. President, this is not a threat, this is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a war is coming. You’ll see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties. Losses on both sides. Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We’re here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours.”

“We’ll be watching,” Logan said.

logan is around 171 years old (but at this point in the story, he doesn't really know how old he is so it's kinda irrelevant now) and reader is around 26 years old

[pitchsidestories]

aurora II Mapi León x Reader

masterlist | word count: 1190

summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.

author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.  

In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.

It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.

The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet.  “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”

For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.

Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.

“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, she replied.

“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.

“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.

‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.

“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.

“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.

“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly

“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.

“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.

“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.

“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.

The weeks had flown by.

Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.

“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you.  “Is it just like you imagined?”

“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.

“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“

“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.

“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“

“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.

You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“

Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.

“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.

“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.

“I need to ask you something.“

Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.

The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.

“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.

“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.

You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”

“So… Can I get an answer then?”

“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.

Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“

“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.

“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.

“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“

She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”

“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.

“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.

“Yes, please.“

While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.

“Better?”

“A lot.“

“Good.“, you sighed relieved.

“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.  

“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.

“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.

Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”

“It does, huh?”

“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.

The fireplace crackled in the background.

“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.

They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.

Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”

“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.

“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.

“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.

“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.

“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.

“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.

“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.

“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.

Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[revelboo]

Even If It Kills Me Pt 3

Armada Starscream x Reader

• Not sure what do with you, he collects the mini-cons and returns to base with you. Because you’re now his problem, apparently. One he didn’t want or need as he sneaks you into his quarters and lowers you near the tiny berths in the corner the mini-cons use since they’re your size. You’d stopped laughing finally and you’re just staring up at him as Runway, Jetstorm, and Sonar investigate you. “What do you want from me?” You ask him as Sonar darts back to him chirping at the sound of your voice.

• “I could have left you there,” he counters, watching Runway catch your wrist and lift it for Jetstorm to see. And you don’t protest or even try to pull loose, just tolerating it with a tired acceptance. “I could take you back.” He can’t really now that you’ve seen him, but the flash of panic on your face before you hide it tells him everything he needs to know. He can’t even ask why you’d stay somewhere you’ll be hurt, because how long was he stuck with Megatron? Knows what it’s like to be too scared to even try, because if you fail things will only be worse.

• The little guy from before is gently waving your hand at one of his buddies, while the third one hides behind the big guy and stares at you. “So what do you want?” You ask him. Because everyone wants something, why else take you? You’re still alive, at least, but you already know that that can be a burden instead of a boon sometimes. He can always be worse, after all.

• “Starscream. My name’s Starscream,” he says, wings flicking as Jetstorm reaches out and touches your palm only to yank his hand back chirping. “I want you to watch over them.” Because he has no idea what to do with you. Didn’t want to take you, but you’d seen him. And because he wouldn’t have been able to leave you there anyway after seeing the bruises and those exhausted eyes. Leaving you would be like leaving himself, because he’d been you. Doesn’t know you or the situation, but that doesn’t matter, he still knows the story.

• Blinking slowly as you look from his optics to the little guys, your tension eases. That’s it? Your eyes are burning again as you look at the one amusing itself playing with your hand. Like a little kid, excited about a new toy. “What are their names?” You ask, voice unsteady, because it’s starting to sink in. He’ll come back and find you gone. He’ll look, but this time he won’t find you, won’t be able to drag you back. You’re free and it��s such a fragile thing spreading warm through your after so long.

Previous

Next

[waynes-multiverse]

I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

Right... 😆

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠

And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol

How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

And he slapped you right on the ass.

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

But his hands were gentle for you.

This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂

He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂

And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.  

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[insidekatmind]

The Fascination with Tattoos~Levi Colwill

A minute of silence to appreciate him and his tattoos!

Your gaze is lost on Levi's arm, as it happens far too often. You’re both sitting on the couch at home, enjoying a quiet evening after a long day. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, leaving his tattoos clearly visible as they wind along his muscular arm. Each line seems to tell a story, each design captures your attention. You can’t look away, and when you realize it, he’s already watching you with that mischievous smile that always makes you blush.

"Do you like what you see, love?" he asks, his voice warm and tinged with amused curiosity.

You quickly avert your gaze, embarrassed, trying to mask the heat rising to your cheeks. "I was just... thinking about what to cook tomorrow," you lie awkwardly.

Levi chuckles, leaning a little closer. "Sure, sure. So why were you staring at my arm for at least five minutes?"

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape his observation. "It’s just that... your tattoos are so beautiful. I can’t help but look at them."

He leans in even closer, propping his elbow on the back of the couch, his tattooed arm right in front of your face. "Oh, really? Which one’s your favorite?"

You bite your lip, hesitating. "The one with the roses. It’s so detailed, it almost looks real."

Levi raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your answer. "The roses, huh? I didn’t think you were into flowers."

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "I’m romantic, didn’t you know?"

"I know very well," he replies, leaning even closer. His arm is now practically under your nose, and you can feel the warmth of his skin. "Do you want to touch it?"

Your heart races, and you look at him with wide eyes. "What?"

He laughs softly, his voice a perfect blend of sweetness and teasing. "I said, do you want to touch it? I know you’re dying to."

You bite your lower lip, but eventually, you give in. Reaching out, you lightly trace the black lines of the tattoo with your fingers. Levi’s skin is warm under your touch, and he watches your every movement closely, as if you’re uncovering a secret.

"You really like it, huh?" he asks in a lower tone, almost whispering.

"I like everything about you," you admit, your voice a bit more confident now. "But the tattoos... they’re fascinating. They say so much about you."

Levi smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes now—a mix of pride and desire. "You know I got them to mark important moments in my life, right? But now, you’re making me want to get another one, just for you."

You look at him, surprised. "For me?"

He nods, his gaze serious but tender. "Yeah. Something that represents you, us. Maybe your name, or something only we’d understand."

Your heart tightens at the thought. "That would be amazing. But are you sure? I don’t want you to get a tattoo just to make me happy."

He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. You know how much my tattoos mean to me, and you’re such an important part of my life. Why not celebrate that?"

You look into his eyes, feeling the love behind his words. "Then I want you to choose the design. Something that reminds you of me but also has meaning for you."

Levi smiles, pulling you closer for a kiss that’s sweet yet intense. "You’re incredible, you know that?"

After a few minutes, when you’re both lying on the couch again, he can’t resist teasing you one last time. He lifts his tattooed arm, showing off the details you adore so much. "So... how many times a day do you think about my tattoos?"

You laugh, hiding your face against his chest. "Too many to admit."

He wraps his arms around you, laughing with you. "Perfect, because I want you to keep it that way. And next time, I promise I’ll get something special inked, just for you."

[thememestrider]

40k Sfw Alphabet - Sanguinius

Thanks for all the love my first one of these has been getting! It's now, like, my second most liked/reblogged post. So, again, thank you guys so much!!

By popular demand, my next primary is the glorious hawk boy himself, Sanguinius.

Please enjoy (and watch out for errors cause this is unedited)

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sanguinius is VERY affectionate, both physically and verbally. In public, in private, doesn't matter. Wherever you two are, he's whispering sweet nothings in your ear or ensuring he's got a hand on you. Part of it is to be a tease, but most of it is for his own comfort. He always wants to know you're close. Always wants you to know how important you are to him. If he's in particular need of this reassurance, he might drape a wing over your shoulder or around your waist, just for that extra bit of physical touch.

B - Best friend (What are they like as a friend? How would the friendship start?)

Aside from Vulkan, Sangy is about the easiest person to be friends with. He's charismatic, he's well-adjusted and he's genuinely a really sweet dude. But to be best friends with him, that might take more time. See, Sangy is used to people befriending him because of what he is- the Great Angel, the perfect primarch- and not necessarily because of who he is. So, even with friends, he maintains his angelic mask, and he will be resistant to letting it slip. Given enough time, however, I can see him feeling comfortable enough around you that he feels he can be himself, and maybe even share some of the darker things he deals with.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Sanguinius-cuddles are about the only thing that rival Vulkan-cuddles, if not exceeds them. If he could swallow you up with his arms alone, he would. At times, you might have to ask him to let up a little, lest you suffocate from his grip.

Sanguinius absolutely makes use of his wings with cuddles, too. Like a pair of enormous downy blankets, he will encase you in them, humming contentedly as he feels you stir against their feathers.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Sanguinius is definately the type to want to settle down. He wishes a life where he doesn't have to live up to the expectations of the Emperor and mankind as a whole. A life where he can just... live.

And doing so with the person he loves most? That's just about the perfect dream.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Sangy is breaking up with you, he's letting you down gently. He's explaining how he feels and trying to keep you from blaming yourself. Trying to remain friends would be too painful for him, though, and I believe once you two parted ways, you wouldn't see much of each other again.

Now, if you broke up with him, it's a slightly different story. Others have already head canoned that beneath the surface, Sanguinius has a possessiveness streak, and I believe that a break up he did not want would absolutely trigger that streak. He'd never hurt you, nor intentionally do anything to cause you distress or torment. But you're never leaving his sight, whether you know he's there or not. And Emperor help any man who tries to touch you- consensually or otherwise.

F - Fiancé (How to they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

With his powers of foresight, Sanguinius probably knew you'd be the one he'd marry the moment he laid eyes on you. So, with that in mind, he would want to rush things at all. He knows how this is going to end, so he's going to enjoy every moment of it: from the awkward first dates right up until he buys your ring.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)

Only primarch more gentle in both regards is Vulkan.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Much the same as cuddling. Super crushing, super loving, and making good use of those big beautiful wings.

I - I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take a while, I think, purely because before he were to say it, Sanguinius would need to realise that he doesn't have to maintain the facade of perfection when he's with you. I see that taking a long time. But once he does realise this... Oh boy, you're getting the confession and the proposal all in the same say.

J - Jealous (How jealous do they get? What are they like when they're jealous?)

Sanguinius trusts you with every ounce of his soul. He knows you are his and that he is yours, and he knows that he will never have to worry about you betraying him.

However...

As mentioned back in E, I am part of the group that head canons that Sanguinius has a secret, buried possessive streak. He is aware of it, he strives to keep it under control, and nine times out of ten he is successful. But he is not always successful. And when he is not successful, the most common way his possessiveness shows itself is jealousy. Are you being particularly friendly with one of his brothers? He may intervene. One of your male friends embrace you for just a little too long? Sanguinius will be glaring daggers at him, might even bare his fangs. This behaviour is worse when he's feeling particularly insecure, or if the stress and grief of war is getting to him. But as I said before, he's aware of this, and he will communicate with you exactly how he's feeling and what he needs from you in terms of support.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Depending on the mood and what both your desires are, Sanguinius kisses range from gentle and sweet all the way up to intense, getting-your-lip-bitten, can't-breathe-cause-he-won't-let-you-go passion. With Sangy, you get the best of both worlds.

L - Little Ones (How are they around children?)

Only primarch better around children than Sangy is Vulkan. Enough said.

M - Mornings (How are morning spent with them?)

Sleepy, I think. One, because Sanguinius loves nothing more than lying in bed and holding you close to him like a teddy bear; and two, because sleeping while wrapped in his wings is so damn comfy, why would you ever wanna get up?

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Depending on the mood, ranging from cuddle sessions that lead to you both falling asleep in each other's arms, to make-out seshs that led to said cuddling sessions, all the way up to... well, this isn't the nsfw alphabet, so I'll let you guys... you know...

O - Openess (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal things slowly over time or all at once?)

At first, getting Sanguinius to open up is like trying to pry open a steel crate with your bare hands: fucking difficult. He's the Great Angel, after all; perfection doesn't even begin to describe the expectations he has to live up to, let alone those that he holds himself to personally. So getting him to divulge how he really feels or that, under the surface, he's struggling under all that weight? Yeah, I don't see that being easy. However, when Sanguinius DOES finally trust you and he realises he loves you, it'll be like opening the proverbial floodgates. For the first time in his long life, Sanguinius has someone he can admit his flaws to and they will love him all the same: he's going to make use of that and he's going to cherish that. Right up until his last, dying breath.

P - Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Sanguinius has all the patience in the world for you. However, if he's particularly stressed or the Red Thirst is gnawing at his mind, I can see it suddenly becoming very thin. He would deeply regret anything hurtful he ever said in these moments, though, and would go above and beyond to make it up to you.

Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or do they forget the minor things?)

Every little detail he has committed to memory. How you look, what you like, all the memories you've made together. You can bet your bottom dollar that, when he lay dying at Horus' feet, he was flashing back to every single second he spent with you.

R - Remember (What's their favourite memory of the relationship?)

The moment he realised he could be himself with you, Red Thirst and all. It's the moment he realised why he'd forsee you to be his soul mate- because you love him for him. All of him. Every perfect curve and jagged edge. For both the angel and the beast.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Part one isn't even a question. The mere possibility of you coming to harm is enough to get his Red Thirst raging. And if something actually DID happen to you? Emperor help whoever or whatever was responsible.

Much like all of the primarchs honestly, the kind of protection Sanguinius needs from you is the emotional kind. He needs someone with whom he does not have to maintain the facade of the Great Angel. He needs someone who sees him for what he is: a man. A man with demons that he needs help in fighting. He's not an "I fix can him" type beat like some of his brothers (cough cough, Konrad, cough, cough). More "he can fix himself with your support."

T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts and everyday tasks?)

U - Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's putting in the whe nine yards: whatever that means for you, Sanguinius is doing it. Even if he's distracted by war, taking care of you is his number one priority.

Aforementioned possessiveness. Another could be emotional guardedness, at least in the beginning of your relationship.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Only in terms of wanting to impress you or make you happy. I could also see Sanguinius having a real thing about his wings: constantly preening them, always wanting to ensure his feathers are all nicely aligned and smoothed down. Couldn't tell you why I think this, just feels right to me idk.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely.

X - Xtra (A random head cannon for them)

In the wake of Sanguinius' death, the Blood Angels see you as his successor. In their eyes, you are their Primarch now, in all ways other than literally. They revere you the way they do their father. They hold your word above any commander or high lord, even on matters that, by rights, you should have no say in. They'd also see you as their matriarch. Their mother. And as such, many of their warriors would confide in you the same way one would with a trusted maternal figure. I can see you becoming an emotional rock for a lot of them- not just collectively, but individually, as well. So much so, I could even see your presence and/or intervention being a kind of soother of The Black Rage. After all, the only thing strong enough to pull a Blood Angel free from the grief of his father's death is the love of his mother.

As mentioned above, Sanguinius' death was a loss so devastating to the Blood Angels' collective psyche that it spawned a literal curse of madness within the legion. So you can bet everything that the Blood Angels aren't letting you out of their sight. If you thought the Salamanders were protective... you ain't seen nothing yet.

You go nowhere without an entire Astartes squad by your side; as well as snipers lining your route/location and an entire strike cruiser in orbit over the planet you're currently on. They'd probably give you your own set of armour, too, designed by the Blood Angels' own artists before being crafted by their own weaponsmiths.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like in a partner, or in general?)

In general, a lack of empathy and arrogance. I could also see him really not liking someone who does not or cannot recognise their own flaws and shortcomings, what with how massive of a focus self-improvement and self-awareness is to the culture he fosters within the Blood Angels.

Z - Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

You're getting wrapped in the wings. Even if it's sweltering hot outside, Sanguinius is cuddling you right up under his wings like a mama bird with her chick. He'll stop if you ask, of course, but you WILL have to ask.

Tags: @solspina @beckyninja

[sugarverse]

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.2k

mentions of: yeah its just sex,, uhhhh ya get together at the end but it’s pretty vanilla and i think this might be one of my fav writings for iida so far ehehehe this story was so fun to make. I plan on making a pt.3 and I’m going to postttt soon idk :P

part one

moodboard here!

You tied a cute bow in the belt of your robe once more, walking over to him and fixing the glasses on his oh so cherry red face. “Tenya..?” You ask, sitting on the side of the table next to him. You glance down at the sketch, seeing how far he had actually gotten. It was pretty impressive for someone who is a beginner when it comes to realism, or art itself really. “Do you want some help?”

His jaw was slack, staring up at you now that you were so much closer. Whatever perfume you had on almost made him faint, and there was nothing he could really formulate besides a very quiet, “Ex..excuse me?”

“I said, Do you want some help..?” You tease, leaning down so your faces were only a few inches from each other. You reach for his tie, slowly sliding your hand down his chest. “I wouldn't want you to fail just because your model was a distraction..” You lean closer, gripping the end of his tie as ruby eyes glancing down at your pretty plump lips.

Did you mean help help him, or draw it yourself? There was no way he was reading into this wrong, right? Did you see his hard-on the whole time?? He gave a long blink, trying to keep his head on straight. “I w..would love-” Before he could finish the sentence, you tug on the tie and press your lips against his. He melted into you, hands placing themselves onto your hips softly almost as if you’d break if he did touch you.

He had yearned for this for so long. There was no way you felt this way all this time and he never picked up on it. The thought only made him deepen the kiss, his hands moving to hold your face in his palms. You let his tie go with a smile, giggling at his eagerness to kiss you back. You place your hands on his shoulder, feeling him stand but refusing to let his lips leave yours. It felt like fireworks were going off around the two of you, only pulling away when you both needed the air.

Tenya was once again standing with crooked glasses, red faced, and this time slightly out of breath. “Y/n I.. Why didn’t.. How did I not..” He panted, after what was only a few seconds, he crashed his lips against yours before you could even respond to his stuttering. You whimpered in response, attempting to untie the tie the best you could with your eyes closed. He helped you, loosening it and letting his hands tangle themselves behind your head and into the kitchen of your hair the best he could. He just wanted you closer. Closer than he already was.

You pull away from him, feverishly leaving kissing along his sharp jawline. He sighed, hands going back to your waist patiently. He rubbed your sides up and down as you kissed down his neck, letting out a breathless whine at the missing feeling of your warm lips against his.

“Why haven't we ever k..kissed before now if this is how you ..f-felt..” He sucked in a sharp gasp once you kissed the right side of his neck. Bingo. You bit down on that spot listening to him groan in your ear, gripping your hips a little harder.

You open your legs slightly so he can stand between them, his body involuntarily pulling you towards the edge as he takes the step towards you. “Because I can't lose you.. I never thought you'd feel the same..” You mumble against his skin, leaving open mouthed kisses down to his collar before unbuttoning it.

You could feel the hard-on poke at your thigh, tauntingly moving to grind against him. After all, the silk of your robe was the only thing keeping him from well.. you. He ached, looking down at you with an almost heartbroken look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, I have wanted you for a very long time.. I know I can treat you better than anyone else out there y/n. It hurts so bad when you'd find someone else more interesting than me. I thought I was too..” He paused for a second, groaning as he grinded against you subconsciously. “A square, if you will.” He chuckled nervously at the admission, feeling you nipping at the most sensitive part of his neck as he let out soft moans and grumbles.

You pull away to look at him, fixing his glasses from earlier with a small giggle. “There's nothing wrong with liking books, or wanting to follow the rules..” Manicured hand began to unbutton his collar and down his shirt.

“And I just never thought you'd go for someone like me. I assumed you'd want a shy girl or somthin’.. I guess we really did make an ass out of u and me.” You tease, giggling once more at your own play on words. You stopped about halfway down his shirt unless this was too much. You didn't wanna be too pushy but God did you want to see those abs.

He let out a small laugh as well, staring down at your gorgeous lips. “I would have told you a lonnnng time ago, y/n. I'm sorry I didn't–” He started, feeling your finger press against his lips to stop him.

“We know now, don't we? Now we move forward.” You wrap your legs around his waist, watching him nod until you move your finger away. “How about I finally help you?” You run a hand down his chest, watching him shudder at the feeling of your acrylics.

He leaned over you, hands moving onto the table rather than on your hips. “If we're going to do anything, I want to do it the right way..” You wanted to pout at his response. He was right, being caught would be absolutely terrible for the both of you. I guess it wouldn't hurt to go back to one of your apartments and finish? Ugh but then the mood is different..

As the gears in your brain worked, Tenya still mindless pressing against you, began kissing you once more. You smile, coconut colored eyes following as he kisses your neck. This time looking for you to gasp or make some sort of noise. His lips smirked against your skin, kissing down to your shoulder and moving the robe off of it. He bit right between your neck and shoulder, causing you to squeal and grip onto his shirt.

Your eyes fluttered, feeling him kiss down to your collarbone. He guided a hand to unbutton the rest of his shirt, the other going back to resting on your waist. He made sure to kiss down the valley of your breasts, not breaking eye contact with you once had he looked up.

“May I?” He motioned to the robe, watching you quickly shrug the silk off of your other shoulder and pulling the tie of your belt. All he needed was to open it up completely. He chuckled at your quickness, letting it pull around your legs once again. He made sure to kiss both of your boobs, finishing with the unbuttoning of his shirt. He used that hand to pinch at your nip, putting the other in his mouth to suck on.

You arch your back into his touch, whimpering as you squeezed your legs around him in response. You could feel him smile, swapping to give your girls equal attention. He felt you buck at such simple actions, kissing down your navel and to where your robe pooled.

“You sound so sweet.. I need to taste you. Wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to go first baby,” You melted at the name, nodding hurriedly. He smiled, going onto his knees and scooping his arms under your knees. He pulled you to the edge, watching you jolt in surprise. You could feel your heart beating in more places than one. The entire time the only thing that had been covering you up was that flimsy piece of silk which he finally moved out of the way, staring down at you for a moment.

This obviously wasn’t the first time he’s been in a sexual situation, but he couldn’t help but freeze for a moment. You were so stunning.. ethereal even. He really didn’t mean to stare, not wanting you to think something was wrong or he was too scared. Just very much in love with the look of you. He finally breaks concentration, looking up at you with a small smile. “You promise this is okay?” He wanted to double check just in case you saw him as he saw himself.. God forbid you did.

“I promise.” You put your pinky out, watching him move his hand from your thigh to interlock his pinky with yours. Without any hesitation, he shoved his glasses up and opened your legs wider. He kissed your clit before starting to suck on it, crimson eyes staring up at you to see what he was doing well vs what you didn’t like as much. Your breathing hitched, hand going to take the glasses and set them on the table so you could grip onto his hair the correct way. You rut your hips towards him, staring down in awe.

He couldn’t help but stare back up at you, strong hands keeping your thighs pressed against his shoulders despite your involuntarily squirming. He swirled his tongue around your bundle of nerves, hands gripping onto your thighs so he could be as close as possible. You tasted so sweet. Damn near sweeter than fruit, only making him want more. Flattening his tongue against you and going back to giving your sensitive spot hell.

You pulled at his navy blue hair, hands gripping onto him as you rode yourself against his tongue. Stuttering out praises through pants and moans, “Ffffuck.. tenya-ah!~” You squeak out, thighs beginning to shake from wanting to close. He slithered a hand from your thigh, teasingly tracing his index finger around your entrance. “Don’t t..tease me!” You leaned forward, hair falling around your shoulders as you looked down at him.

“Please please pl-ngh~!” Your begging was stopped by the feeling of two thick fingers sliding into you as he swirled his tongue around your clit some more. He made sure to curl them, feeling you clench around his fingers drove him insane. Thrusting his fingers into you even faster than his tongue was moving. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach starting to tighten. You couldn’t keep quiet even if you really wanted to. You were on another planet.

The face you made when you came could only be described as angelic to iida, he watched as you came undone around his lips. You laid your back against the table as he lapped it up. Almost liked someone dying of dehydration. He slowed his fingers down, sliding them out of you to lick his fingers clean. He lightly placed your legs back onto the table. “You taste divine, you know that?” He asked, unbuckling his belt and tossing his wallet on the table.

You blink up at him, panting and giggling. “I know now,” You stared up at him, messy haired and mouth wet as lustful but loving eyes stared down at you. You took a mental picture, biting your lip to hold back your happy giggles. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sliding the belt off and placing it on the chair behind him. “Let me,” You lean forward, unbuttoning his dress pants hurriedly and unzipping them. It ached being hard for so long, but as many times as he’s imagined this to play out, he was always going to make you feel good first.

“I need you, y/n..” He admitted almost in a whisper, reaching for his glasses so he could actually see you. You tug his pants down, letting out a small laugh to yourself at the red checkered underwear he wore before pulling them down as well. You assumed he’d be big, the man is 6 foot and built like a fucking unit.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to spring right in front of your face. There’s no way that can.. Well, Doesn’t matter if it fits or not. No way you’d miss the opportunity. He let out a chuckle, assumingly at your wide eyes.

“You have me,” You smile up at him with half lidded eyes, changing your expression quickly so you werent the one looking like a deer in headlights. You grab his cock with manicured nails, licking the precum from his tip before siding as much as you could into your throat.

His breath hitched, a small groan leaving his lips. “No sweetheart, I mean I need you. As much as.. I’d l..love you to,” He let out a breathless sigh filled with pleasure, head tilting back.

“Keep.. feeling your mouth, I need you. Awfully bad, I might a..add.” He struggled to speak, moans escaping his lips as he felt you take him completely down your throat for a moment. You pulled away with a pop, smiling up at him.

“Whatever you want, sir..” You tease, sitting up and putting your hands on his shoulders, slowly sliding them to his neck to cup his face. “Give me a few more kisses, huh mister?” You didn’t even have time to lean up, feeling his lips desperately go back to yours. You tangle your hands in his messy hair once more, feeling him lay you down gently.

He pulled your legs to the edge once more, listening to the squeak you let out as he subconsciously manhandled you. He looks over to the wallet he tossed on the table earlier, opening it to fish for a condom that he always carried around. Not that he ever thought he’d really use it.

“You don’t need one,” You see him quickly look at you as if you were insane, vermillion eyes studying your face. “I’m serious! If worse comes to worse I’ll stop by the pharmacy. I want us both to actually feel it..” You sit up once more, pretty brown eyes staring up at him pleadingly. You place a hand on his arm, which was enough for him to go standing right back in front of you.

“Are you sure, y/n? Absolutely positive?” He asked carefully, cock twitching at the cold air of the room. The snow from the skylight had covered it so much the room was practically black if it weren’t for the very dim but few lights in the room. You nod, giving him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” You smile, laying back down. Big hands gripped your hips as he lined himself up to you, staring down at your sensitive bud for a moment before slowly sliding the tip into you. You whimper, gasping and letting your eyes roll back as he slid what you could take into you. You felt full, eyes trying to focus on the man in front of you.

“Fuck..” He muttered, leaning over you and kissing up from your collarbone to your neck, holding you close as he started to move gently into you. He knew he was big, and he didn’t plan on hurting you. he wanted it to be the best experience you’ve ever had.. despite the uncommon location. You hug him quickly, whining out and pressing your face into his shoulder. It couldn’t get closer than this.. Or so you thought, feeling him slowly start to fuck you open and press against that spot. Tears well in the corners of your eyes, gasping and biting the pain into his shoulder.

He hissed, making sure to go as slow as his mind and body would let him. He needed to see you completely undone, but your comfortability and adjusting to it would come first. “It’s okay sweetheart, ‘m right here. I got you. “ He whispered into your ear, nipping at your lobe with a small smile. You could hear how passionate he was in his voice, letting your legs wrap around him once more.

After a few more slow thrusts into you, you move from his shoulder and whisper back. “F..Fuck me like you mean it, Ten. I can take i..it.” You mewled out, feeling him kiss from your cheek to your lips before slamming into you. You squeaked, having trouble trying to kiss back. You couldn’t quiet down even if you wanted to. Your nails grab at his back, lightly scratching so you didn’t rip his skin open. Shit, fucking you like this you might not be able to stop yourself.

He shuddered at the feeling, pulling away from your lips to leave open mouthed kisses against your neck. You bite your lip hard, you didn’t know what time it was but you knew there were still people in the building. He slid his hands up to your back, letting his hands hold onto your shoulders from underneath you to keep you still while he fucked your brains out.

You were seeing stars, biting and leaving hickeys all over him to muffle yourself. He gritted his teeth, glancing down at you through foggy glasses. “You take it so good, honey.. Need..Need you like this all the time.” He huffed out, letting out another breathless chuckle at your fucked out expression. “Can I have you?”

Broken sobs of pleasure was really all you could give in return, nodding as quick as you could before kissing him once again. He smiled against your lips, letting a hand slide down to your clit. He only thumbed over it a few times before you came, legs squeezing tighter against his torso. He pulled his hand away, moving both of them back to your hips. He was obviously close too, but it felt so good he wasn’t sure he could pull out exactly in time.

“G-Gotta let me pull out, honey..” You shake your head no, burying your face into his skin once again. “Need.. need to feel.. In me– cum in me.” He began to slow down, trying to think through racing thoughts and how good you felt around him. It wasn't much time to make the decision and professionalism was already out the window at this point. “P.. Please- please tenya~?” You cry out, hugging close to him. If that’s what you wanted, he was going to oblige.

He gave a couple more thrusts, cumming into you and holding you close. Once you pulled away enough, he left peppered kisses amongst your neck and jaw.

You smile, sighing out tiredly before giving him a few kisses on his poor red lips. “You are my favorite human being on the planet,” You huff out, trying to continue but your thoughts were a bit scrambled. “I’m yours. For as long as you want me.”

He quickly responded, kissing your cheek in conformation. “Forever. I want you to be mine.. Forever.” He was sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead and still out of breath himself. His face was red, eyes hanging low from both tiredness and wonderment.

You giggle at his response, taking his glasses and cleaning them with the silk of the robe that was under you.

“Forever it is.”

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot! Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

ALSO ALSO special thank you @urfriendlywriter for some of the smut ideas and the vocabulary, it helped better than fighting a thesaurus lol

thank you @thecutestgrotto and @arlerts-angel for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top photo!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[epickiya722]

Folks, you're not going to like what I have to say. I just know it and I'm warning you of that. I said it once before, but leaks really do make some folks act out in ways that I can't understand. We ain't even got a full translation and already people are saying this ship is canon and that ship is canon... and whatever else. Jumping to conclusions when you don't even have all the facts.

Look, I'm not saying Hori is the best writer. I'm not saying Izuku and Ochako is a bad ship (it's not, there's worse... a lot worse).

But I do think some people are jumping ten steps ahead and I doubt that they are canon romantically. This isn't me being in denial because I could care less about the ship. It's not a ship that makes me sit up at night and cry and want to punch a wall and harass people. No ship for me does.

So far, from what I can gather from the very little information Izuku wants to see Ochako more because... THEY LITERALLY HAVEN'T SEEN EACH OTHER A LOT. In the last chapter, Izuku states that the class haven't been able to catch up and whatnot because over the years they got busy with their careers. The last time they probably had a proper conversation was in high school.

Izuku and Ochako wanting to meet up more doesn't automatically mean they're going to date. Let's not forget, Ochako is one of the first people to become a close friend of Izuku's in their first year. They clicked because they were so similar. They mirror each other even!

They're best friends if anything and wouldn't you want to see your best friend after not seeing them for a long time?

So far, it just feels that this epilogue is them accepting their own feelings about everything that has happened, like a self-reflection and self-acceptance type of deal.

Sometimes, you realize something about yourself when encountering someone who is like you. That's how Izuku and Ochako are to me.

It takes them identifying with the other to come to terms about themselves.

"But the blushing! The handholding!"

So blushing automatically means "I have romantic feelings for you", is what some of you are saying?

Just gonna forget all the times they and others have blushed out of embarrassment or happiness? That even some characters have the blush stickers to show their sweet innocent nature, like Ochako for most of the story?

Izuku blushed at Katsuki in the final chapter out of happiness, so it can't apply here, too? Why does blushing got to only be used in a romantic sense?

Seeing Izuku blushing looking at Ochako is funny when considering he's holding an (possibly) alcoholic beverage in that same shot. My guy is probably drunk. 😆 Jokes aside, jokes aside.

This is Ochako and Izuku, we're talking about here. They're the Queen and King of MHA characters who blush a lot, no matter what is going on.

And the handholding? In MHA? It happens a lot between characters! It's not like anything new or Izuku and Ochako are going to get cooties.

Look, I might make some people laugh or hate me for this one but when I saw this... I was reminded of this.

For those that don't know, that is from the Predator (1987). Yes, that Predator.

Two characters that have been friends for a long time and just happy to see each other.

We seen this kind of handshake like this before between characters of different and same genders. Either as a greet or as an agreement.

Izuku and Ochako are just agreeing to see each other more and that they should allow themselves to live happy lives. That doesn't mean they're going to start dating and having babies the following week.

"Bakugou is being treated like his wingman!"

Ah, stop right there. Katsuki encouraging Izuku to talk to Ochako isn't like that strange because between Izuku and Katsuki, Katsuki is the one to most likely reveal his emotions. He is more in touch with his emotions than Izuku who while emotional tends to keep everything in.

Katsuki isn't playing wingman. He's playing advisor and someone who has experience with emotions.

Seeing Izuku stumbling over his words and being all nervous trying to talk to Ochako is so in character for him. He has never been too good expressing his emotions.

I doubt Katsuki would be like "go tell her you want to marry her". He is more like "go talk to her, you're friends, remember? Been forever since you had a proper conversation."

It's the same case with Himiko pushing Ochako towards Izuku. She is encouraging her to be happy and not be stuck in the past. Not "go get married".

Happiness doesn't mean you must be in a romance.

Just me, again, but I feel like some people are really just jumping the gun here. If you really are thinking Izuku and Ochako being canon is bad for your ship, that's... I'm sorry, this will be mean of me to say, but that's ridiculous.

A ship being canon shouldn't stop you from enjoying the ships you do like. What ever happen to "ignore canon"? Oh, I guess that becomes irrelevant when you want to cause panic and bash and panic and bash and panic and bash.

Like a handhold like that shouldn't make you feel threatened by that ship.

Just continue shipping your ships! Take it from someone whose favorite ship is of two characters who haven't been seen interacting before.

Even still, with just leaks alone, it doesn't mean they are canon. I have my ships and there's moments in whatever the story makes me ship them but I also don't think every little behavior is meant to be romantic.

The thing I know I'm going to hate about this epilogue isn't even the chapter itself. It's the reactions.

I know some people are going to say this chapter is queerbait and use to it to even go as far as to bash Ochako given she is the woman and it's routine to hate on the woman. It ain't queerbait if Katsuki and Izuku wasn't going to be explicitly a couple themselves. Let's not forget it's Shonen Jump and even though the queer coding can be there, we can't have everything.

Also, I also know that some fans of IzuOcha are going to use this chapter to justify their "authority" of "best ships" and harass people like "my ship is better than yours" and be only concerned about Ochako being a housewife.

I don't think Horikoshi is the greatest human and MHA is a flawless story but some of you are no better to these characters and the story.