#better safe than sorry I’d say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 5 months ago

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forgotten promises

pt two of broken promises (I know I'm so creative with names)

bodyguard!logan howlett x fem!runaway reader

a/n: SMUT 18+ MDNI they, like, never use protection (don't be silly, sheathe your willy) but I’d like to make it 100% clear now that she has a magic uterus and there will be absolutely NO baby-making. Just rocking unprotected sex 😎👍 If you’re tagged in this, it does not mean that I am permanently adding you to my taglist. It just means I saw you in my comments/reblogs/inbox asking for a part two and this was the easiest way to let you know I made one. If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask. Summary: Life on the road isn't exactly glamorous. Cramped spaces and too many cheap motels have you and Logan at each other's throats. You feel eyes tracking you everywhere you go but you're afraid to tell him, afraid it will be the end of the road for the both of you. One cheap bar and an explosion later and your whole life is flipped upside down.

“What are you doing?”

You glance over Logan’s shoulder at the register. The man behind it isn’t looking at either of you, just disinterestedly scrolling through his phone.

“Isn’t this what you do?” You ask, motioning to the pack of beef jerky you’re stuffing down your jacket.

Logan scoffs and shakes his head. “No, kid.” He takes the bag from you and rolls his eyes.

“Well, then how do you pay for this stuff?”

“Normally, with the money I get from my jobs. But your dad wasn’t too forthcoming with my last paycheck.”

You feel that familiar burning churn of guilt roiling around in your gut. You’ve definitely added another complication to his life and it makes you feel like nothing more than a burden sometimes. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry.”

Logan glances down at you. He gives you that familiar appeasing look, squeezing you closer, and drags you towards the register. He tosses the snacks and drinks onto the counter. The guy just barely glances up at you both.

“Will that be all?” He asks in a tone that says he could care less.

“Yeah,” you answer, eyes drifting towards the magazine rack. Your face is plastered on the cover of a cheap tabloid.

LOCAL POLITICIANS DAUGHTER STILL MISSING

Exclusive interview with family on PG. 6

Your eyes go wide and you turn your face further into Logan’s chest. He gives you a confused look before his eyes are snagged by the same thing that caught your attention.

“Why don’t you go wait in the truck?” You nod and slip out of his hold, being mindful to keep your face away from the security camera near the front.

That keeps happening. You hadn’t thought you would have made news, but your father was making this a part of his campaign. Claiming you’d been taken by a mutant bodyguard and that he’s been praying for your safe return. “Experts” have been claiming that with no ransom demanded you’re being turned into a message for anyone who goes against mutants.

Now, mutants despise you and everyone else thinks you’re a martyr. In a few years, you’re sure you’ll be turned into some true crime documentary where people you’ve never met before are crying over your disappearance.

You slide into the truck and let out a deep sigh. You’d thought running away would be freeing. But even a hundred miles from him, you can still feel the cold grip of your father’s hand around your throat.

“Twenty on pump seven,” Logan tosses the cash on the counter, eyes drifting to you in the truck. It was instinct at this point, always keeping an eye on you. Especially since one of your father’s more fanatic supporters had spotted you in a shitty diner a week ago. They’d called the cops and tried to bar you and Logan from leaving.

It hadn’t gone over well for him.

He’d been trying to keep you a little more hidden since then, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d gotten you out of that house to show you what real life was like, to give you a taste of freedom.

He felt like he was no better than your father, keeping you cooped up and covered constantly.

When the kid in front of him doesn’t say anything, Logan clears his throat. He gives him a quizzical look but the boy’s eyes are stuck on the door.

“I swear I know her,” he mutters. Logan’s eyes drift towards the TV behind the counter and he sees an old news story of you. They’re using the footage of the acid attack, claiming you’ve always been the mutant movement’s target.

“Can I get twenty on pump seven,” Logan repeats, voice firm. The kid finally looks at him and whatever expression Logan is wearing is enough for him to finally start moving.

The second the receipt is in his hand he’s rushing out the door. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take that dumbass to piece two and two together but he can’t risk dawdling.

He fills the tank up, eyes scanning the gas station the entire time. He’s had a cloying sense of paranoia ever since the incident in the diner. He knows that at some point this little run of yours is going to come to an end.

He doesn’t know if it’ll end with cops finding the two of you. Or if you’re going to realize the real world isn’t all that fun and leave him behind. He knows that a girl like you, one who's used to the finer things, is never going to be satisfied by the life he can offer.

But he’s hoping that you come to your senses later rather than sooner. He’s enjoying traveling with you a lot more than he wants to admit.

He gets in the truck, starts it up, and glances over at you. You smile, the smile that makes him feel things he doesn’t like admitting to himself or you.

“All good?” You ask.

He nods, driving off without a word because he doesn’t want to tell you the truth. Doesn’t want to admit what you both know to be a fact. The time you have together has an expiration date and he’s worried it’s creeping closer.

Logan’s inside some shitty roadside motel. Whatever he’s talking about with the owner is clearly getting heated. You can see the way the anger’s growing on his face. His body is tensed up and he looks like he’s five seconds away from leaping over the counter and taking the greasy man leering at him down.

There’s a final word exchanged between them and then Logan is storming back towards the truck. He slams the door closed so hard you’re surprised the windows don’t shatter. Normally, you sleep in the trailer. It’s not always the warmest or coziest, but you make it work.

It’s too cold out tonight to do that and Logan doesn’t have a spare tank for the heating. He’d thought he’d had enough for a cheap room for tonight, but clearly, he doesn’t. There’s a tense silence in the truck as you mentally debate saying anything to him.

His fists are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel you can hear it creaking. You shift, sitting up straighter in your seat and uncurling your legs. There’s a stiffness to your joints that has you groaning. It’s involuntary, ripped out of you simply because you’ve been sitting for too long.

It catches Logan’s attention and he glances over at you. There’s a resigned sort of guilt on his face and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. He’s used to this type of lifestyle, and sometimes you think he’s embarrassed to share it with you.

You’d never judge him for roadside motels or living off cheap gas station meals. You know you were privileged living up with the wealth you did. But there is something infinitely more satisfying about being poor and happy than there ever was being rich and miserable.

“Look, kid,” he lets out a heavy sigh and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’ve been expecting. You were a fun time, a nice ride, but you’re becoming a burden and he can’t deal with it anymore.

You let your nails dig into the thin skin of your palms so you can attempt to ground yourself. “I need to make some money tonight, so I just need you to bear with me for a while.”

Like there is every time he doesn’t boot you to the curb, a relieved rush of air expels from your chest almost violently. “Okay,” you say tentatively, the word dragging out while you try and understand his meaning.

“I just,” he stops and it looks like he’s struggling to find the words to say to you. You wait patiently for him to finish, or try to at least. “There’s a bar nearby. I’ll find some work there,” his words are ominous. They give you nothing and convey so much.

Clearly, he’s hiding something from you. You can tell that much from the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you. He pulls out of the motel’s parking lot and turns the radio on. You’ve learned that's his way of telling you he doesn’t want to talk without being a dick about it.

You want to respect his space because you still feel like an imposter. But it’s hard. He’s being oddly cagey about this.

The drive is short but it feels like you’ve been transported to an entirely different town than the one you were in before. He takes only backroads and middle-class homes turn into shady shops with barbed fences. Caged dogs bark at the truck as it drives by and you get a sinking feeling in your gut.

Perhaps it’s a little classist of you to automatically assume a few low-end homes equate to a bad neighborhood. But instinctually you know something is off about this place.

He parks in front of a run-down bar. Even from here, you can hear loud shouts and jeering coming from inside. You don’t know what’s being said but they’re certainly passionate. Logan turns towards you, the expression on his face so serious you feel like you’re about to be scolded.

“I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long, just an hour at most. But you need to stay in the truck.”

Your jaw gapes and you scoff at him. “Logan, an hour that’s rid-”

He cuts you off with a stern call of your name. Your mouth snaps shut and you narrow your eyes at him, teeth gritting together to keep your tongue at bay. “Stay here, I mean it. Got it?”

You nod and he repeats your name, sounding aggrieved. “Fine,” you huff. “I got it.” He lingers for a moment. You don’t know if he doesn’t trust you or is just reluctant to leave you alone. You’re reluctant to be left alone, especially in a shady dark parking lot like this. But clearly whatever is going on inside is worse than whatever could happen to you out here.

“I’ll be back soon,” he makes this whole thing sound so grave. It makes your brows furrow and doubt churn in your gut. What could he be doing in there that’s so awful?

He gets out and you watch his form under the flickering street lamps until you can’t see him anymore. You sit quietly in the truck for at least three minutes before you already feel the boredom set in.

You’d thought you’d be able to last longer. You used to go for hours dissociating at your father’s galas. This is different, though. You’re a little afraid to let your guard down here.

You try to listen to music but you feel bad wasting his gas so you just turn the truck off and huddle under a blanket in the trailer. You try and let yourself fall asleep but you don’t last long.

It’s too cold outside to really get a good rest and you can hear people moving around outside the trailer. After about an hour of rolling around and frozen limbs, you figure enough is enough.

As much as you don’t want to provoke Logan or give him any reason to get rid of you, you can’t stay in here all night. Besides, Logan said he wouldn’t be long, you can always just lie and say you were worried about him.

Satisfied with your excuse you leave the comfort of your blanket behind and slip into Logan’s jacket. You tuck the truck keys in your pocket and walk out into the snowy night. It’s less cold outside than it was in the trailer, you can see why he wanted a motel room for the night.

A few people linger by the cars, smoking and muttering to themselves. You slip past them, ignoring the feeling of their eyes burning into your skin. You’re sure it's because you look like you don’t belong here.

The noise in the bar gets louder the closer you get and it reminds you of the night Logan had snuck you out of the house. But you’d had him to lean on, right now, until you find him, you’re on your own. For all the noise coming from the building, the bar is surprisingly empty.

Only a few old men are sitting around, drinking beers in silence. The bartender cleans glasses behind the counter, sparing you an odd look before getting back to work. There’s not very far for you to look before you figure out that Logan isn’t anywhere nearby.

“Excuse me?” The bartender spares you a fleeting glance before barely grunting in greeting.

The floor underneath you tremors and you glance down at it in surprise. You can hear something going on underneath. You figure that has to be where all the noises are coming from. “I’m looking for someone. Tall, mean as hell, he’s got this hair,” you swoop your hands up by the sides of your head, trying to mimic the odd fluff of Logan’s hair.

“Downstairs.” You nod and move around the bar, trying to get to the door behind him. He reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you before you can get far. “It's a forty-dollar entrance fee, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrows in confusion and you frown as you dig around in your jacket pockets. You’ve come too far to be deterred now. Ignoring the moral implications, you slip Logan’s wallet out of his jacket and give the man forty dollars.

He nods towards the door and you give him a weak thank you as you slip past him. Opening the door is like breaking a seal. The noises bombard you almost immediately, so much clearer than they were before.

You still can’t understand what they’re screaming but there’s a violent atmosphere slipping around you as you head down the stairs. The heady smell of cigars and cigarettes threatens to suffocate you. Your eyes water at the smoke in the air.

You’d think you’d have gotten used to secondhand smoking after being around Logan, but he’s less inclined to hotbox the car if you’re beside him. The second your feet hit the floor you’re being jostled to the side violently by the people around you.

It’s nearly impossible to elbow your way through the crowd, but you’re determined to figure out what’s in the middle of the cage that’s got them all excited. You can hear the people around you screaming out bets and numbers you don’t understand.

For one nauseating moment, you think this might be a dog fighting ring, that Logan gambles on it to earn his money. It makes you want to turn around, to shield yourself from the truth. But this is something he tried to keep hidden from you and you need to know the truth about whoever you’re traveling with.

You can hear the announcer, but you can’t get close enough to see anything yet. “Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?” There’s a resounding NO! from the crowd that makes you jump.

A booming voice shouts over the throng of voices, “I’ll take him!”

“Our savior ladies and gentlemen!” You shove through two men, ignoring the way they complain about how their beer sloshes on their sleeves.

“Hey-” You glance over your shoulder as one of them reaches for you. You flick your wrist, sending him and his friend tumbling back into the crowd. You roll your eyes and turn back towards the cage.

Your eyes widen and so do Logan’s as you finally see what exactly is going on. He’s cage fighting, this is what he’d been so secretive about. Honestly, it’s a relief compared to the brutality you were bracing yourself for.

You can see his lips starting to form the shape of your name but the man from before is barrelling into his side as the bell goes off. You wince, jumping away from the cage as you hear the meaty impact of his fist against Logan’s face.

The people near you scream, shouting for Logan’s blood. It’s easy to figure out that he’s been beating everyone he’s gone up against based on some bloody faces in the crowd. It’s smart, easy money. He can always heal, and can never really be beaten, not when he’s literally got fists of steel.

You’re surprised that no one’s ever caught onto this scam of his. You also wonder why he had been so adamant about you not seeing this. Sure, it’s brutal watching blood spray against the mat. But you don’t care. Besides, he’s ridiculously attractive in just his jeans as he pummels into some guy.

Maybe that’s not a normal line of thinking.

You shake your head, shelving that for later as the fight dies down. The man is limp on the mat of the cage and Logan is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar and pointedly not looking at you.

You feel that familiar twisting feeling in your stomach and wonder if this was a horrible idea. You should have just stayed in the car like he asked. You’re sure it would have only been another hour of tirelessly rolling around before he came back. But you couldn’t help yourself.

He tells you so little about himself. If you get a chance to learn more, you’re going to pounce on the opportunity. Maybe it was a violation of his trust. You sincerely doubt that he would ever willingly have revealed this sort of lifestyle to you, though.

He seems to be under the same misguided intention that you need to be sheltered. It reminds you a little of your father. That might be a cruel comparison but it’s the same suffocating feeling of being kept in the dark to suit their needs.

The guilt you’d been holding unfurls and blossoms into anger. You find yourself retreating away from the cage and rushing back up the stairs of the bar. You don’t want to watch him fight any longer. You don’t want to look at him.

You just want him to treat you like an equal. Not like some little girl who’s going to run at the first sign of things getting hard.

You burst through the door of the bar, ignoring the cold laughter of the bartender behind you. He clearly seemed to think you couldn’t handle a little blood. He wasn’t the only one.

You’re only a couple of feet from the truck when you hear footsteps loudly stomping through the snow behind you. “What the hell were you doing?” You scoff, unbelieving that he would have the gall to shout at you.

You whirl around on him and it catches him off guard. His right foot slides against the slush as he tries to stop himself from ramming into you. “I’m not a little girl, Logan! You don’t need to hide stuff like that from me.”

He crosses his arms and glares down at you. “I wasn’t hiding anything,” he insists. But the tone of his voice gives him away. He doesn’t like that he was caught. “I don’t need to tell you jackshit about what I do for money.”

You can’t believe how he sounds right now. Why is he getting so defensive about this? “I don’t care what you do for money, alright. I just don’t get why you felt like I couldn’t know about this.” You hate the way the hurt is audible in your voice. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you try and cover it.

In the same way, he’s masking his feelings with anger, so are you. Just with less success. Something draws across his face, some emotion you can’t discern. His voice goes cold and quiet as he shoves an envelope full of cash into your hands.

“Go back to the motel. Get a room.”

He storms past you and walks towards the trailer. You follow after him, slightly dumbfounded by how he’s behaving. He rips his motorcycle out from the back and rolls it into a parking spot. You watch him do all this with your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth.

It’s only when he starts to head back towards the bar that you realize he’s not coming with you. “Logan!” You call out, trailing after him slightly. He barely turns back to face you. “Are you,” the words die on your tongue and you can’t find it in yourself to finish.

Are you angry?

Are you leaving?

Are you going to ditch me at the next bus stop?

Instead of asking any of your ridiculously pining questions, you turn on your heel and storm towards the truck. You rip the door open with more force than necessary and drive off without looking back at him. But you know he watches, know he keeps an eye on you until he can’t see you anymore.

Your rides with him are normally silent, but this one feels painfully so.

You nearly get a room with two beds. But you feel like if you do it will be a horrendous mistake. Reluctantly, you give the man behind the counter enough for a room with one bed large enough for the both of you.

You’re not exactly excited about sharing a bed with him, not after how he behaved tonight. You grumble to yourself as you drag your bag inside and toss it on the ground. You picture putting up a wall of pillows between the two of you, just to be petty.

It’s as you’re showering that you realize you might not even have to. He might not come to join you tonight. He won’t know what room you’re in. And he’d made it pretty clear how pissed he was at you for sneaking into the bar.

Maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. You’ve been toying with the boundaries of his patience for a while. Little tests to determine whether he truly wants you around simply to have a warm body ready beside him. Or if he wants you because he genuinely cares for you.

You suppose tonight, whether you want it or not, you’ll finally have the truth.

The thought keeps you awake. You toss and you turn for hours, fighting with yourself. You should be happy, finally figuring out what’s been haunting you. But you’re not. You’re petrified. You’d rather keep living a lie than finally accept that he truly doesn’t want you.

You throw the covers off, the scratchy material only further adding to your irritation. You stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you. You turn on the sink splashing some cool water over your face to try and rid yourself of the warmth lingering under your skin. You don’t know if this feeling of being uncomfortable in your own body is from pent-up anger or anxiety.

You don’t care. You just want to sleep this night away and pretend it never happened. But, of course, the universe has other plans. The motel door creaks open as you’re hovering over the sink, debating whether or not you’re nauseous enough to throw up.

You tilt your head slightly towards the sound. Growing up in your house, filtering through rooms like an unheard ghost, allowed you to get good at recognizing footsteps. Logan has finally decided to grace you with his presence.

You listen to him as he creeps silently across the room, landing on the squeaky bed. You press your ear against the door and can hear the way the sheets rustle and he cusses under his breath. There’s worry staining his voice and you figure you shouldn’t drag this on much longer.

You open the bathroom door and flip the switch, turning the lamps on like a disappointed mother waiting up for her teenager. You cross your arms mutely and lean against the doorframe as he winces under the sudden light.

He jumps, just slightly, and glares over at you. “Thought you weren’t here,” he accuses. He tries sounding angry, but you have a sudden rush of clarity in that moment. Where you would normally focus only on him being upset with you, you can see the truth of his concern.

Same as you, he doesn’t know where he stands in this whole situation. You doubt he had a clear plan when he rescued you from your tower like some ridiculous storybook knight. He most likely thought that you left, the same way you thought he would.

You remain silent, though, still a little too flustered to speak coherently. Instead, you examine him. There are cuts and blood all over his shirt. Splatters of it on his face. Though, you know if you looked there would be no physical evidence of him ever being hurt.

His brows furrow the longer you stare, a wall building between the two of you. “Kid?” He questions, equal parts worried and defensive. Does he really think you actually give a fuck about him fighting?

You shake your head and walk back into the bathroom. You rustle around in the cabinet underneath the sink until you find a washcloth. Wetting it, you bring it back out to him. You station yourself between his spread legs, holding the cloth between you like a peace offering.

He looks doubtful as he glances between you and it. Finally, he lets out a rough sigh and simply nods his head. But when he reaches for it you snatch it back, much to his chagrin. You offer him a small smile and tilt his chin up towards you, gently wiping some of the dried blood off his cheeks.

He doesn’t flinch or hiss away from the less-than-gentle fabric. He stares at you unblinkingly, like if he closes his eyes for a moment he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream. “You don’t have to do this, kid.”

You roll your eyes and crane your neck to get a better look at him. “Would you shut up?” You whisper teasingly.

His lips quirk slightly and you can see his shoulder slump in relief at the sound of your voice. “So, she can talk.” You can’t help the little laugh that comes out of you. He grins fully at that and his hands come up to rest on your hips.

His thumbs rub soothing circles along the sides of your waist as his hands dip a little lower. “What are you doing?” Your hand drifts down to his neck to wipe some blood off there as well.

He shakes his head and shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You lift your gaze to his and your lips fall flat, “Logan-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. In one smooth motion, his hands drop to wrap around your thighs. He lifts you slightly and drops you onto his lap. He grins at the slight huff of surprise that rushes out of you.

His arms go back to your waist, pulling you closer to him and grinding you a little against him. You bite your lip to stop any noises from escaping. As much as you wouldn’t mind what he’s thinking, you need to talk.

“Logan,” you scold.

He smirks and tilts his head patronizingly, “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s not happening,” you tell him firmly, hand still working on cleaning him.

He sighs and one of his arms drops away from you. He cups your hand in his, stilling your movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. Gently, he takes the cloth from you and tosses it somewhere you can’t see. “I’m fine,” he whispers, eyes searching yours.

It’s hard meeting his gaze. The worry and anxiety from the night still weigh heavily on your shoulders. He repeats himself, fingers tilting your chin up to face him. “Alright?”

“I don’t care,” the words come rushing out of you before you can stop them. His brows raise in shock and he gives a slight chuckle of amusement. A lump grows in your throat and your eyes grow wide. “Wait, I don’t mean-”

You cut yourself off and rub your hands over your face, trying to get your head on right. Logan’s patient, rubbing your back and clearly trying not to laugh at you. You finally take in a deep breath and face him again.

“I don’t care about the fighting,” you can see his shoulders tense slightly like he doesn’t believe you. “I don’t care, Logan. You do what you have to survive and I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“What if I enjoy it?” He cuts you off, tone harsh as he glares down at you. There's experience in how quickly he doubts you, how quickly he tries to get you to change your mind about him.

You wonder how many times he’s been rejected just for being a mutant. You’ve only ever been rejected by one person because only he ever knew. Your father. And that hurt enough for one lifetime.

You can’t imagine going for as long as he has and constantly being called a monster for something he can’t control. Your brows furrow and you lean into him until your lips are brushing. He remains stiff beneath you but you don’t let it deter you.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his before slowly pulling back. You wait for him to respond, physically or verbally, but he’s still looking at you with that cold unfamiliar gaze.

You wonder if maybe it was a mistake, to bring it up at all. But just as the thought comes he’s surging forward. His lips catch yours, his hands digging so desperately into your shirt you know it rips.

Your arms go to his neck, holding onto him so you don’t slip off his lap. You haven't been this close for a few days. You think it might have made you both feel on edge. There’s a relief that comes from not just having sex with him, but also just being intimate and close to one another.

It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, that there’s someone here beside you to be a partner and a pillar of stability. You’ve never had that before. Someone that you can rely on and trust fully. You don’t think he has either.

He craves you the same way you do him. Each kiss, every shared breath, is treated like it will be your last. You don’t know when your father will finally catch up to the two of you. You don’t know when the police might finally recognize Logan.

There’s no definitive future for either of you. It’s a real possibility that this could be your last night together. And neither of you wants to be upset with each other. Because you were never truly mad. You were always just worried.

Your hands drop to his shirt, dipping to find the holes in it from his fight and ripping at the flimsy fabric until you can just yank it off. He smiles against your lips at the eager way you move atop him. But he can’t tease you, he’s already annoyed with the buttons on your shirt.

He pulls back, glaring down at the fabric like it's insulting him. Without another word, he slices through it, leaving it in tatters on your shoulder. You grin, shrugging the rest of it off. “That was yours.”

He grips your hips tightly and leaves marks where his fingers are as a reminder that he was here. He flips you over, leaves you breathless as he hovers over you. “I really don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.”

You’re addicted to his voice. How breathy and desperate it is when he’s with you. It’s a level of vulnerability you rarely get to see from him. He can’t hide himself when he’s with you like this. He wants you just as badly as you do him.

It gives you a confidence rush like no other, makes your ego grow ten times its size. If you can make a man like this fall to his knees from nothing more than a kiss, then you’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for.

But you don’t want that tonight. You reach for him before he can go much further, grabbing him by his hair and tugging until you know it stings. He nearly fucking moans at your rough touch, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. The green of them has been wholly consumed by his desire for you and it makes you ache for him.

“Not tonight,” you tell him. There’s no room for argument in your tone. As much as he might want to taste you, devour you, all you want is to be as close to him as possible. You want to be covered and filled by him in every way you can be.

His head falls against your thigh, a rough groan tumbling from his throat at your words. You drag him towards you, pulling him up your body until you’re face to face. You smile softly up at him, lifting your head so you can meet his lips again.

You’ll never get enough of kissing him, of tasting him. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from reaching across the seats and kissing him while he drives. You’ve nearly made him wreck a few times and forced him to pull over so you could both have some fun in the back.

Addiction isn’t the right word for what you feel for him. It brings along its own negative connotations. The taint of dependency and toxicity. With addiction, it’s a parasitic relationship, hurts you but makes you feel good.

This is just goodness. This is a kind touch for the first time in your life and finally feeling safe in someone elses arms. This is opening yourself up to him fully and not once feeling like you need to mold yourself into something else to make him happy. It’s accepting him as he is, a broken dog who likes to fight to punish himself. You don’t want to change him or make him “better.” You just want him to be happy.

You use your powers to help yourself, flipping him over and straddling his hips. You drag his jeans down his legs and flick your wrist, sending them flying somewhere across the room. He watches you with eyes filled with awe, hands drifting over your curves like something to be worshipped.

You know he’s waiting for it, for you to sink yourself down on him and finally be filled. But you wait, hover over him even as the muscles of your thighs tremor. “You don’t hide things from me anymore,” you warn him. You’re not asking, for once, you’re demanding what you want.

He doesn’t look angry like you’d been expecting. Instead, it only seems to turn him on more. “Ya know,” his hands drift to your hips, dragging you down and over his cock until it’s wet with your want. Your nails dig into his chest until there’s blood beading under them and you’re trying not to let your noises slip out.

“I kinda like it when you’re all bossy like this.”

“Logan,” you grit his name out. It takes everything in you not to look as affected by him as you feel. “No more hiding shit.”

He leans up on his elbows. His hand drifts to the nape of your neck and drags you down until your lips are nearly touching his. “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart.”

Like a taut rope being cut, you sink into him, your hips finally drop and he guides you down every inch of him until you feel like you’re so full you can’t breathe. He lets you linger for a moment, and get used to this feeling while he steals the very air from your lungs.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you. His hands always moving like he’ll never fully be satisfied with how much of you he can feel. He’s always reaching for you like he needs to make sure you’re actually real and not just something he’s dreamt up.

Even with how impatient he is, you’re always the one that moves first. You roll your hips over him, moaning at how he feels inside you. It’s like he’s perfectly molded you around him. He always manages to brush against the spots that make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

The second your hips begin to roll, he’s wrapping his heavy arms around you, grinding you down into him. He keeps you trapped in place, using you like a toy as he bounces you on his lap. Your mind is fuzzy, every bad thought and feeling shoved out while he makes you go dumb on his dick.

You love how boneless you go. You don’t have to think now, don’t have to worry. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, shifting yourself further on top of him until you're practically burying yourself under his skin.

Not thinking always comes with its own consequences, though. Your powers slip a little out of your grasp. The walls trembling and the drawers and cabinets opening and closing. The both of you have gotten used to the noise, know how to drown it out, and just focus on each other.

One of these days, you’ll need to figure out a way to have sex with him without bringing the room down around you. That’s a problem for later though. His whispered praises and grunts of your name filter through your mind until there’s nothing left inside you but him.

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, “you’re so fucking tight around me. You close?” He grunts, hand drifting down to rub tight circles on your clit. You dig your nails into his shoulders, nodding your head frantically against his neck. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you can barely think of your own damn name. Let alone what you want from him. “Fuck off,” you hiss. He chuckles at the attitude and you almost expect him to stop, just to be a dick because you were a brat.

But he’s just as close as you are and he’s too selfish to tease. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes down on you as your body shakes against his. He follows quickly after you, warmth shooting up inside you and almost leaking down your thighs. You feel stuffed, like your body’s been pushed to the limit and further.

You both sit together in silence for a while. You ignore the way your skin sticks to his uncomfortably, instead reveling in the warmth he provides you. Anyone else, and you’d be rushing to get away from them.

You’re always extra sensitive after sex, every little thing setting you off. But there’s a comfort to the way his hairy ass chest brushes against your breasts and his arms squeeze around you. It’s a nice grounding feeling.

The tips of your fingers drift over his arms, following the path of his veins and brushing against his fingers lazily. He flips his palm over, encasing your hand in his own wordlessly. Little things like that ease your worries. Makes you feel like something more than just a quick fuck.

He breaks the silence first, which is rare for him. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You frown and peer up at him. “I told you, I don’t care about the fighting.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Not that. I shouldn’t have gotten so fucking mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You want to interrupt him, assure him that you both acted pretty childishly.

But you understand it’s difficult for him to express himself verbally. He usually prefers silent acts of apologies and expression, you don’t want to mess him up before he can get out what he wants to say.

“I don’t want to be like your father.” Your face screws up a little and you shift uncomfortably on his lap. He loosens his grip, giving you room to leave if you want to, but you stay put. “I’m trying not to coddle you, sweetheart, or hide you away from the world. But I don’t like you seeing that shit.”

“You’re not my dad, Logan. He wouldn’t give me a choice,” you try and joke but it just seems to make him more irritated. Sighing you straighten up, bracing yourself on his chest and staring down at him.

Your head tilts to the side in contemplation and he almost looks uncomfortable under the attention. “I’m not so fragile or sheltered that I’m going to shatter at the first taste of the real world, Logan. I mean, for god’s sake, I’ve had acid thrown at me and bodyguards since I could walk. I know how dangerous it is. Whatever you want to hide from me, I’ve seen worse.”

You let your words sink in for a moment and he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. You know that it’s odd for him, to comprehend a girl who was afraid to go into a bar swallowing down an illegal fighting ring like it’s nothing. But you’re not lying. Everyday little things are what you’re unused to. But you’ve lived alongside violence your whole life.

“Look, fighting, sleeping in shitty motels, and your truck, that doesn't bother me. But I don’t like when you hide things and I don’t,” you take in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. This is what you’ve been trying to tell him for weeks.

A few little words have your tongue tied and make you desperate to cover yourself up again. He can see the shift in your expression, and feel how tense you get. He sits up a little more, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand.

“I don’t want to just be someone to fuck you, Logan. I didn’t come with you so you’d have easy access pussy,” he looks thoroughly amused at your crude words, but there’s something else lingering in his expression. Something like hurt.

“Is that what you think?” He asks, tone distant. You can’t find the words so you simply nod. He sighs and shakes his head. He eases you off his lap and you worry you’ve truly fucked this up somehow.

He goes into the bathroom, returns with a wet washcloth. He still doesn’t speak and you’re on edge the entire time he cleans the both of you up. You can see he’s thinking, biting his tongue, and trying to figure out what it is that he wants to say to you.

You’re impatient, five seconds away from just demanding a response from him. He tosses the cloth and drops into bed beside you. You draw the sheets up to your chest, glaring down at him while he rubs his hands over his face with a tired sigh.

When he opens his eyes again he laughs at how close you are. “Jesus,” he wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you down into his chest even though you fight him. It must be easier for him to speak when you’re not staring at him.

“I didn’t go back for you so I could fuck you, kid. I… care about you,” there’s a long pause before he says the word care. You think it’s funny, that he can’t bring himself to admit what he actually feels. But you’ll take it, you’ll give him the time he needs to come to terms with the truth.

For now, you let yourself fall asleep, feeling just a little bit better about the road ahead.

Things get easier between the two of you. And somehow harder at the same time. You don’t walk on eggshells around each other, no longer afraid of scaring the other off now. Which also means that you find it easier to bicker with him about little things. Like, not just tossing his trash everywhere in the truck. You’re practically living out of the trailer, the least he could do is help you keep it tidy.

You know it’s weird for him. Suddenly having someone nag at him not to be a slob or to take breaks in between driving so he doesn’t wear himself out. It’s an adjustment you see him struggle with sometimes.

You try not to be too pushy, but there’s only so many times you can flick crumbs from his burgers off your seat before you lose it. “Logan!” You snap, glaring at him as you stand up only to find chip crumbs squished into the fabric of your leggings.

He glances over at you and shrugs, “What?”

You glance between the crumbs and him with a glare but he doesn’t seem to be connecting the dots. “Fucks sake,” you grumble, passive-aggressively wiping the truck seat off before you slam the door and storm towards the diner.

You’re sick of being cramped in the truck. You’re sick of the greasy food. You’ve begun to crave salads lately. Which is beyond weird. But the novelty of shitty food and milkshakes wore off a hundred miles ago.

Logan catches up to you, huffing with irritation as he swings the door open for you. You take a seat in the booth near the corner, snatching up the menu and pointedly staring at it and not him. “Really?” He demands. When you don’t answer he tips the menu down, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What is your problem?” He hisses, trying not to draw attention to you both.

You lean in, voice a harsh whisper. “How hard is it to just not make a mess? We live out of that damn truck, the least you could do is keep your crumbs on your side.”

He rolls his eyes and leans back in the booth. You’re both sick of having the same fight. But there’s really nothing else to do anymore. When you’re stuck together for so long, it’s the small things that get to you.

You’re going to say more but the waitress pops in front of you out of nowhere. “Hi!” She beams and gives you her name, the bows in her hair trembling at how hyper she is. “What can I get you both today?”

You and Logan place your orders, and he shoots you an odd look when you only order the salad. “We’ve got a couple more hours ahead of us, you’re gonna get hungry.”

You cross your arms and shrug, “No, I won’t.”

He licks his lips, sucking on his teeth and leaning against the table. “Yes, you will,” he argues with a stern voice.

You narrow your eyes at him and give him a bitter smile. “Kiss. My. Ass.”

Your stomach grumbles for the third time and you know that Logan can hear it. You’re pointedly not making eye contact with him. It feels like it's louder than the music at this point and you really don’t want to prove him right.

Without a word, he begins to dig around in the center console. You glance towards him, confused, “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything, just tosses whatever he’s grabbed onto your lap. You glance down at it and frown. It’s somehow cold as you unwrap it. You pull the parchment paper away and let out a relieved sigh.

He ordered you a wrap from the diner without you realizing. You take a bite, your hunger steadily easing away. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, pointedly looking out the window.

He glances over at you and scoffs. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya, kid.”

You roll your eyes and turn to glare at him. He’s already looking at you, a teasing tilt to his lips. “I said I’m sorry,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have been a bitch.”

He shakes his head and waves you off. “I haven’t exactly been pleasant myself. I’ll,” he huffs lowly and forces the words out, “clean up more.”

“I think we’ve just been stuck on the road too long. We’re gonna end up driving each other insane.”

His eyes glance along the signs on the highway. There’s a notice for food and shopping at the next exit and he nods towards it. “We’ll stop at a motel for a few nights. Take a break.” You want to ask him if he’s sure that’s smart.

It seems risky, to slow down for so long. But you need to walk around, breathe fresh air, and stretch your legs. You’re too selfish to tell him not to stop and keep going. Instead, you nod and smile at him. “That sounds really nice.”

He gives you a slight smile that’s gone as quickly as it came, reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh. You move closer to him and he turns the radio up. You wonder why he doesn’t want to talk anymore but you don’t push it. You’re too excited to finally get out of the truck again.

The town is nice enough. It’s small, with only a few shops where you buy some new shirts to replace one’s that Logan has torn up. The motel you’re staying at doesn’t have a washing machine so you have to use the laundromat to wash your clothes.

Logan says he’s going to see if he can find a quick job nearby. You wonder if that means a real job or a more bloody one. You decide not to ask questions, instead taking the little change you have and figuring you’ll try to get the smell of grease out of all your clothes.

As you load the machine up and put your quarters in you can’t escape the feeling of someone watching you. You’ve been on high alert ever since Logan stole you away from the house. But this is different.

You’ve gotten used to your own paranoia, you know when it’s real or not. You walk away from the machine, glancing out at the glass walls near the front and trying to see if there’s someone out there. This, oddly enough, doesn’t feel like a police stakeout where they’re going to track you back to the motel and bust Logan.

This is something different. There is a deep-seated primal fear in you that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your heart races as your eyes search the dark street outside. What little glow comes from the streetlights isn’t enough for you to clearly make anything out.

But you feel them, tracking your every move. They’re somewhere nearby, you can’t see them but they see you. You feel sick to your stomach. You glance at the door before racing towards it. You turn the lock, slowly backing away and keeping your eyes trained on the street.

You look into the shadows and find shapes and movements where there are none. Your eyes spin as your brain crafts a horrible image of some monster waiting outside for you. When the timer for the washer goes off you let out a sharp scream, spinning around and clutching your chest as you glare at it.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, angrily running your hand over your face and trying to catch your breath. You put the clothes in the dryer and by the time you're done, the feeling is gone. You don’t know if they were never there to begin with, or if they got bored and left.

You’d told Logan that you didn’t need a ride, you’d just walk the short distance back to the motel. Now, you use the phone on the front counter and call him, telling him you’ve changed your mind after all.

By the time he picks you up, he looks incredibly concerned. You know you sounded panicked when you called him. You still feel upset about the whole thing. But when he asks what’s wrong you just tell him you got a little scared walking back in the dark.

You don’t tell him someone was watching you because you know he’ll make you pack up and leave again. You want some stability. Even if it's just for a week. So, as stupid as it is, you lie to him and say everything’s fine.

When you try to go to sleep that night you feel like you’re being watched again. Even with the curtains closed their eyes burn into you. You toss and turn under the heavy weight of the sheets, struggling to get comfortable.

There’s a low grumble behind you before Logan throws his arm over your waist and tugs you back into his chest. “Stop movin’ around,” he demands, his voice barely audible. You smile a little at how tired he sounds before forcing yourself to settle down.

He doesn’t give you much choice, using his body as a weight to keep you pinned. You still feel their gaze, even more now, but his proximity brings you enough comfort to get a little bit of restless sleep.

Logan’s up before you, he always is. He comes in with cheap coffee and free breakfast from the lounge. You push the sheets off your legs, your shirt sticking to your back from the cold sweat of your nervous sleeping. You feel a little more at ease this morning.

You wonder if you’re developing some late-in-life fear of the dark. You don’t know why you were so upset last night, you feel perfectly fine now. It’s almost like it was all one bad dream. Logan walks over, handing you the coffee wordlessly and rustling around in your bag for something.

He pulls out the envelope of cash you keep stashed away and frowns at the contents. “Found a job,” he mutters, stuffing the envelope away and turning back towards you. He leans against the desk, face pensive.

You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up a bit more so you sound coherent. “What is it?” You take a sip of the coffee and your face screws up at the aftertaste.

“Fighting,” his tone is clipped and you wonder what’s got him up in arms. He walks past you, heading into the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. You tilt your head, gaze following him curiously. He doesn’t normally close the door, he usually likes to invite you to join him.

Something happened and you wonder if he’s hiding the same thing you are. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and closing your mind off to the fear from last night.

By the time Logan is done in the bathroom, you’re feeling more awake. You can’t just dismiss what happened last night. You’ve never gotten scared like that before. You refuse to ignore your instincts, but you’re also not going to let whoever that was terrify you into going back on the road.

You don’t want things between you and Logan to grow more tense than they already are. The time away from each other yesterday helped a lot. You no longer want to strangle him when you hear him breathe. You’ll just stick closer to him today and see if you feel the eyes on you again tonight.

“So,” you start, testing the waters to see if he’s still in a bad mood. He glances over at you, eyebrows quirked in curiosity but you’re tongue-tied as you stare at him. However many weeks you’ve been with him and you’re never gonna get used to seeing him straight out of the shower.

The towel is draped low on his hips, giving you a taunting look at what lies underneath the white cloth. Droplets drip down his abs and you’ve never wanted to be water more than you do right now. It’s unfair, just how attractive he is.

You always forget what you’re going to say. You can’t think when he has a shirt off, it’s infuriating. Scoffing, you turn away from him and shake your head. You hear him chuckle, you know he knows what you’re thinking about.

“What’s wrong?” He creeps up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“Logan, dammit,” water soaks into the back of your shirt uncomfortably and you tilt your head to glare at him.

He smirks down at you, “Cat got your tongue, kid?”

You roll your eyes and push away from him. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” You snatch a shirt from the dresser and shove it into his hands. “Put this on.”

He scoffs and gives you a disbelieving look. “Are you serious?” You wait for him, gaze expectant. You’re not gonna be able to think when he looks like this. Sighing, he acquieses and tugs the shirt on. His lips fall into a sarcastic line, “Happy?”

Like a switch being flipped you finally remember what you were going to ask him. “The job you told me about. Where is it?”

You can see on his face how little he wants to divulge that information to you. But you know he’s going to tell you. You two made a deal not to hide things, although, you might be breaking your side of that right now.

“Some shitty bar a few miles from here. Listen-”

You’re not gonna like it.

I don’t want you tagging along.

You should just stay here and read or some shit.

You wonder which one he’ll pick today. “You wouldn’t like it, it’s just a shitty little place where I can make some quick cash.” Look at that, it’s rarely ever your first pick excuse. You must be getting better at reading him.

“I’ll come with you,” you tell him because you’re not asking. You’re not staying by yourself tonight and you both need the money. You grin at him even as his face falls in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll fight.”

He doesn’t even say anything and you immediately regret what you said. The look he’s giving you would put you six feet under if it could. “It was just a joke,” you mutter.

“Wasn’t funny, kid,” he tells you, tone clipped as he moves around you to grab his jeans. “I don’t even want you in those places, let alone fuckin’ fighting.”

You purse your lips and take a seat on the bed, handing him his jacket when he begins looking for it. “I have abilities too, you know. Maybe I could win a fight.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I win because I can take the hits people deal me. You can’t,” you don’t bother arguing with him that you heal too. You understand what he means. You might be able to recover physically, but there’s a mental aspect to being knocked on the ground. There’s humiliation and fear in cage fights, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle that side of it.

He waits for you to say anything else but when he realizes you’ve dropped the subject he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’ll stay in the truck,” he tries.

You give him a deadpan look, slipping the keys out of your purse and handing them to him. “No way in hell, but I’ll stay by the bar if it makes you feel better.” He stays silent and nods but you know he’ll try and convince you otherwise when you actually get to the place. Tough luck, though, you don’t think it’s safe for either of you to be apart tonight. Even if it’s just staying in the truck.

The setup of these places is always the same. Though, this bar seems to be particularly disgusting in comparison to other ones you’ve been to. You position yourself near the corner, your back to the wall so you’re less likely to be noticed in the crowd.

The fights never last more than a few minutes. And that’s if Logan is feeling generous. Most of the time you only need to be here an hour before people get pissed off and go home. Someone bumps into you and you hear a small, “I’m sorry,” before they rush to claim a stool.

The crowd’s already begun to die out. Most leave while they still have a little money left in their pockets. You duck your head down, catching the eye of the girl who’d bumped into you. She looks young and incredibly skittish. Her eyes keep darting to the tip jar near the bartender.

She quietly asks for water but the bartender just shakes his head, tugging the jar closer to him. You don’t know why you’re drawn to her, maybe it’s because she looks like one of those sad pound puppies, but you take a seat beside her.

“Water,” you order, slipping him some change. When he gives it to you, you pass it off to her, spotting the greedy way she eyes it. You know a runaway when you see one, she clearly needs a little help. But Logan’s got enough on his shoulders, you’re not gonna bug him with adding another person to the mix.

“Thank you,” she gulps it down like she hasn’t drunk anything in days. You feel your stomach twist with empathy. What little cash you have in your wallet, you slip into her bag as you pass by her. Logan will have made enough for it to be spared and it's the least you can do.

Not everyone is as lucky as you to have someone help them navigate a new life.

Logan grabs his jacket, wiping blood off from under his nose and heading towards you. You know he’ll want a drink before you go, he always does. Before he can say anything someone’s shouting the name he uses in the cage. “Hey, Wolverine! I want my fucking money back.”

The big man he’d knocked down earlier takes a step towards him. His friend tries to hold him back, but there’s no stopping him. He’s already had his ass kicked once, what makes him think this is going to be any different?

“Not your money anymore, bub.” Logan scoffs and turns back towards you. You just want to leave now. You don’t want to stay for a drink or go get something to eat. You feel the eyes on you again, but when you turn to find them there’s no one there but the girl.

And she’s not looking at you. Her eyes are wide and staring at something else. “Behind you!” She screeches, and both you and Logan whirl around to find the man barreling towards him with a knife outstretched.

Logan moves so quickly that you stumble back slightly. He grabs the guy's arm, twisting his wrist until the knife drops to the ground. He shoves him back against the wall, claws out and pinning him there.

“Shit,” you whisper, glancing around as the few patrons of the bar stare in horror at Logan. The people counting his money stop and tuck it back into the cash box. You clench your eyes shut in irritation, he’s not gonna be getting paid tonight, that’s for sure.

There’s a strange noise behind you, like someone cocking a gun. You turn around slowly, gasping when you see the bartender pointing the barrel of his shotgun at your chest. He’s not aiming it at Logan, he’s aiming it at you. Like he somehow knows that’s the only way to get him to back off.

It’s not like he was going to kill the guy, besides, he came at him with a knife first. What’s the difference if Logan’s a mutant? He’s defending himself. Why does no one understand that?

“Get out of my bar,” the old man warns lowly, taking a step closer to you. Logan turns around and finally spots what’s going on.

“Pay me and I’ll be on my way.” You know you’d be able to heal from the shotgun blast, but you don’t exactly want to go through it.

The old man laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not getting paid, buddy. Get the fuck out of my bar before I put a hole in your little girlfriend.”

Your eyes narrow in disbelief. You debate with yourself for a moment, if this is smart or not. But the guy’s being a prick and you’re sick of people treating mutants like they’re less than nothing. You flick your wrist and the shotgun goes flying out of his hand.

You glance over at the cashbox and it comes floating towards you, landing easily in your outstretched palm. “Be thankful I’m not blowing a hole in you,” you warn, glaring at the cowering man. You walk forward and he stumbles back and you try not to focus on the sick feeling of satisfaction it brings you. You grab the tip jar and shove it towards the girl at the end of the bar. “Good luck, kid.”

Logan releases the man from the before, taking a step towards you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and rush towards the exit of the bar. You need to just get the fuck out of this town as quickly as possible, you’re not safe here anymore.

Logan seems to agree with you. He gets into the truck and doesn’t turn back to the motel. Instead, he turns onto the highway while you keep your eyes peeled on the trees outside your window. There’s someone out there, still following you.

“Something’s wrong with the suspension,” you glance up from where you’d been working on breaking open the cashbox and frown. Logan’s glaring down at the steering wheel, it seems like he’s struggling to get it to turn properly.

“What?”

He scoffs and glares at you, “How should I know?” He pulls over to the side of the road, opens his door, and lets in a rush of cool air and snow. You toss the cashbox to the back of the trailer and follow after him.

He goes to where he’s pulling his motorcycle and you feel like you notice an extra bump under the tarp. “What’s that?” You take a step towards it just as Logan pulls it back. You have to bite back a laugh when you see the girl from last night curled up next to his motorcycle.

She gives you both guilty looks and slowly sits up. “I’m sorry,” Logan offers her a hand and she gets out of the trailer. He grabs her bag and drops it at her feet. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Find a different ride,” he growls, already heading back to the truck. You open your mouth, prepared to argue, but you can’t force her on him. As much as you might want to help her. She’s better off away from the two of you.

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” She snaps at him, a little attitude finally showing through.

“Yep!” He gets in the truck and you know he wants to drive off immediately but he has to wait for you. You shoot her an apologetic look as you follow after him, slipping into the seat beside him. He starts the engine, driving off slowly, eyes drifting towards the rearview mirror.

You bite your tongue, trying not to point out how cruel he is leaving her on a snowy highway in the middle of nowhere. He glances over at you, “What?” He snaps.

You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing.” You’ve barely finished speaking before he’s slamming on his brakes.

“God dammit,” he mutters, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. You can’t help the grin on your face, reaching over to open your door. It doesn’t take long for the girl to catch on, scooping up her bag and chasing after you.

“You’re such a softie,” you tease him.

“Shut the hell up.”

Rogue is nice, if not a little odd. She claims to be a mutant too but doesn’t want to give specifics on her abilities. You don’t want to push her but you are curious about the gloves she wears. “What kind of name is Wolverine?” She asks, spotting Logan’s tags.

He glances over at her and smiles slightly, “What kind of a name is Rogue?”

She goes to say something but you throw your arm out, holding her back as you shout, “Logan, watch out!” He tries to hit his brakes in time but the tree’s already coming down. The truck slams into it and it’s like time slows down, only for a moment.

You can feel the impact of your body against the windshield, the glass dragging along your scalp and skin. It’s like a million razors each slicing into you. And then, you’re flying through the air, head snapping so hard against the ground you can’t see anything.

You hear something happening around you, a roar that doesn’t sound human echoing through the air. There’s the sound of metal crunching and someone is screaming in the distance but you can’t see. It’s not like a total void of darkness, there’s just nothing.

You feel the blood slowly leaking down the back of your skull and something lands harshly against your head. You don’t think much time has passed. When your eyes finally open, however, you’re not lying on the pavement.

The world around you is foreign. It smells like a hospital but it’s not like any you’ve ever seen. X-rays are hanging on the wall and paperwork is scattered on a desk near the bed you’re lying on.

Your mind is blank for a moment. Slowly turning back on while you process the sudden change of scenery. You don’t even remember closing your eyes, you don’t know when your vision came back to you or how long you’ve been here.

The terror sets in quickly. You throw the blankets off your legs, staring down at the pajamas you wear in disgust. Someone had changed you. They’d run tests and done X-rays on you and you don’t remember a second of it.

You rip the needle out of your arm, tossing it to the floor and running towards the door. Your feet slip on the metal floors as you run but you’re afraid to stop. Everything around you looks more and more like a lab.

Did someone from the bar call some government agency? You’ve heard horror stories from your father about the tests the military has run on mutants. You’re starting to worry that’s what's happening to you.

But you doubt the military would make it so easy for you to escape. This has to be something else. You’d heard other voices when you’d been lying on the ground. People who had been trying to help. Could that be who took you?

“You caught on quicker than your friend.” You nearly fall flat on your face, flipping around to see who spoke. But no one’s there. You’re completely alone. “I’m just grateful you didn’t choke out one of my associates.” it’s coming from beside you now.

It’s all around you, the voice floating through the walls until you think he might be in your mind. “Much faster than your friend,” he sounds gleeful and it makes you even more anxious. “I’m a telepath, darling, nothing to fear. If you’d just take that elevator and come up to meet me.”

You’d have to be an idiot to actually listen to the voices in your head. But you don’t see another way out of here. So, reluctantly, you follow the floating voice’s instructions and slip inside the elevator.

When the door opens up again you don’t have a chance to step inside before someone’s pushing you back. Logan stands in front of you, hands clamped tightly around your shoulders while he looks you over.

You sink into his arms, hugging him tightly to you. You’d been terrified you were all alone here. It’s more than a relief to see him again. “You’re okay?” He asks, pulling back to look at you one last time.

You nod, throat too dry to try and form a coherent sentence. You glance over his shoulders brows furrowed at the people awkwardly watching you reunite. There’s a man in a wheelchair smiling at you, “Ah, glad you could make it.” The floating voice, of course. “Logan here was quite worried about you.”

Logan turns to glare at the man and you offer a slight smile. There is something comforting about him. You’re not exactly threatened by an old guy in a wheelchair. The redhead behind him, however, is bugging you. Something about the way she’s looking at Logan doesn’t sit right with you.

“Welcome to my school for the exceptionally gifted,” something about the way he says that makes you tilt your head in confusion. You don’t know what he means until there’s a puff of smoke behind him and some kid is walking by with their hair on fire like it’s nothing.

Mutants. It’s an entire school for mutants. You think you could pass out again.

“It’s the best place we could have ended up, Logan. This is amazing.” You’ve been going back and forth for an hour. He won’t see reason. He keeps saying you need to leave. That you don’t know these people and it could all be one big trap.

You don’t understand him, why he’s so desperate to get away from people like the both of you. You’re rejected in every other corner of society. You could have something real here.

It hits you at once. That’s the problem. He’s not ready for something real. He’s not used to it because he’s never had it before. At least you could pretend at a sense of normalcy living at home. It’s an entirely new concept to him, sticking to one place for so long.

“We don’t know these people,” he hisses, leaning over the bed to argue with you. You narrow your eyes but your conversation is cut off by a knock on the door. You sigh, walking away from him and swinging the door open.

Jean is on the other side, a surprised look on her face when she sees you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to drop these off to Logan.” You glance down at the towels in your hand and give her a strained smile. That’s a flimsy excuse if you’ve ever seen one. “I must have the wrong room.”

You step to the side, opening the door wider so she can see him. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy angrily unmaking the bed. “No, you have the right one.” You hold your hands out expectantly, “I can just take those for you.”

The look on her face is priceless and finally causes a real smile to grow on your lips. She wordlessly hands you the towels, looking disappointed. You don’t know if it's because of what she was trying to do, or because she couldn’t do it.

Before she leaves you call out a quick, “Tell Scott I said thank you again. Wouldn’t be here without him, after all.” Her shoulders tense and she rushes back down the hall. Whatever little crush or interest she has with Logan is going to need to be dealt with on her own.

You’ve got enough shit going on without having to worry about her too. You shake your head and slam the door shut, tossing the towels on the desk. Logan sits on the bed, watching you with an odd look.

“What was that about?”

“She’s into you,” you tell him bluntly, waiting for his reaction. He doesn’t even blink, just glances between the towels and you before shrugging.

“Not interested.” You don’t want to admit that you feel any relief. There was never any real doubt. But it’s still nice to be reassured.

You slip into bed beside him, taking his hand and forcing him to meet your gaze. “I know that this isn’t what either of us was expecting, but this is good, Logan. We don’t have to worry about pretending we’re something we’re not. We don’t have to worry about my dad or anyone finding us.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. But he lets out a heavy sigh and drags you closer to him. He tucks your head under his chin, placing a brief kiss against your forehead. “If you want to stay, we’ll stay. But I’m not putting on that fucking costume.”

You laugh a little, peering up at him with a grin, “Deal.”

There’s a place for you here, even if there isn’t in the rest of the world. You can be safe here, you don’t have to worry anymore. You don’t have to fear the eyes on the back of your head because they can’t get you here.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allilium @insomniachox ♡

Asked for part two: @enchantedbutterflies @strawberrylore @ittoscumdump @enananawoah @wotcherboo

@cali0101 @fluffy-b33z @pcrushinnerd @izbelross @saltwaterburns

@likeficsinthewnd ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #hugh jackman x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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nightprompts · 2 years ago

Text

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

( this is basically just a very self indulgent list of various fluff, angst, and suggestive themed dialogue sentence starters. )

❛ i could keep you safe. they’re all afraid of me. ❜

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜

❛ clean yourself up. you're getting blood all over the place. ❜

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

❛ how is it you always know what i need, huh? ❜

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜

❛ i can’t imagine losing someone like that. i’m sorry. ❜

❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜

❛ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❜

❛ may i have this dance? ❜

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

❛ we can't keep doing this. ❜

❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜

❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

❛ thought you’d be lighter without all that blood. ❜

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

❛ everything looks so beautiful from up here. ❜

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜

❛ well? how do i look? ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

❛ do you mind if i smoke? ❜

❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new. ❜

❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

❛ i want you to forget this ever happened. ❜

❛ i'm here for business — not pleasure. ❜

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

❛ you'd look better down on your knees. ❜

❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜

❛ kiss me again. ❜

❛ are you asking me out on a date? ❜

❛ just sit there and look pretty and let me handle this. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

❛ i'm not drunk enough for this. ❜

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ i was wrong about you. ❜

❛ the first time i met you, i had no idea you'd mean this much. ❜

❛ you gonna be a good girl / boy for me? ❜

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜

❛ books mean more to me than people anyway. ❜

❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜

❛ i don’t have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

#sentence starters #dialogue prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #inbox memes #ask memes #random dialogue

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

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hi, loveyy. if you'd like, would you write for reader x dr!remus where she's really sick and tries to hide it from him so he doesn't worry?

Thanks for requesting!

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus keeps your apartment torturously cold. Normally you don’t mind it, but today you’re achy enough without the chill. The first thing you do when you get home is crank up the thermostat, then take a steamy shower and start warming the kettle. Proactive measures.

You’re taking better care of yourself than you possibly ever have, all to the end of eluding your boyfriend.

When Remus comes home, you’re sitting on the couch in your cozies waiting for your thoroughly honeyed tea to cool. You’re quick to remove the warm cloth from your sinuses before he can see. You make sure your throat is clear before you speak.

“Hi, how was work?”

“Swamped.” Remus bends over the back of the couch to kiss your hair. “Everyone has the flu, strep, or both. Every year, no one gets their flu jabs, and every year they’re shocked when they catch it.” He comes to sit by you, smiling tiredly. “I’d want to throttle all of them if they weren’t already so miserable.”

It’s an effort to keep your shame from showing as you return his smile. Remus starts to lean toward you, but you back away, keeping your mouth a safe distance from his.

At his questioning look, you say feebly, “You smell like your office.”

He lets out a breath of laughter but moves away. “Alright. I’ll change.”

You send him a guilty look as he goes that he doesn’t know the half of, but Remus only smiles indulgently back at you.

From down the hall, you hear, “Dovey, did you change the thermostat?”

Shit, you forgot to switch it back.

“Yeah, sorry. I was chilly when I got home.”

“It’s fine. Do you…want me to leave it like this? It’s set fairly high.”

“Um…” Honestly, yes. “That’s okay. I’m good now, you can set it back.”

“Alright.”

You hear the ticks of the thermostat being turned down, and you grab a throw from across the back of the couch, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders.

“Do you want some tea?” you ask him after a minute. “I’ve just made myself a cup.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart, stay where you are.” Remus emerges from the bedroom in his own house clothes, looking painfully snuggly. He heads for the kitchen. “You left the honey out. Do you still need it?”

You wince. “No, I’m alright.”

When Remus rejoins you in the sitting room, you pretend to be busy with your book. He sits back in his spot, and you cozy up to him before he can try to kiss you again, your head on his shoulder.

“Are you still cold?” he asks, adjusting the throw over you.

You hum a lie.

Remus seems satisfied with that. He tucks you under an arm and picks up his own book.

You’re a few pages in when your nose starts to tickle. You try to breathe through it, hoping it will go away, but it’s no use. You’re hardly able to pinch your nose shut before a sneeze pitches out of you, violent and head-throbbing.

“Bless you.” Remus rubs your back. “You okay?”

You sniffle. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, lovely girl,” he chides gently. You feel his lips touch down on your head.

You soak up the comfort like warmth on a wintry day. Miraculously, Remus doesn’t question you any further, and eventually you lay your head back on his shoulder. You flip pages without truly reading them, your mind fuzzy and your body exhausted, until your eyes grow heavy and you forget to flip them at all. At some point, Remus’ head tilts so it’s resting atop yours. When he starts massaging the back of your neck, it feels so nice you don’t even really register it.

“Dove,” he murmurs.

You hum in pleased, half-asleep acknowledgement.

“You need to stay home from work tomorrow, sweet girl.”

You blink your eyes open slowly. Pick your head up off Remus’ shoulder, and look at him in confusion. “What?”

He looks back at you patiently. “Your fever’s gotten worse, and you’re contagious. It’s not good for you or anyone if you go in.”

“But…” Your brow furrows. You feel like you’ve missed a chapter. “How did you know?”

Remus gives you an amused look. “I see sick people all day long. You thought I wouldn’t notice?” You frown. He chuckles and cups your face in his hand, thumbing over your cheek consolingly. “You were clearing your throat all evening yesterday. But it didn’t seem bad yet, and you didn’t seem to want to tell me, so…” He shrugs. “But now it’s time to let me take care of you, okay?”

You rub your lips together. You think you’re waiting for him to be angry with you, but your boyfriend seems only sympathetic. And a bit smug.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t wanna be another thing for you to deal with.”

“Oh, hush.” Remus tsks, shifting so he can wrap his arms around you. “I like dealing with you, have I not been clear about that?”

“You don’t want to throttle me because I’m another idiot who didn’t get the flu jab?”

You feel the reverberations of his quiet chuckle in his chest. “First of all, I said I would want to throttle them. I’m a doctor, I can’t just be contemplating throttling my patients. And no, sweetheart.” He slips his hand from your shoulder down the length of your back, rubbing through your blanket. “I don’t think that about you. I wish you’d gotten it, but there’s nothing to be done now. You’re sick, and I only want to look after you.”

The onslaught of tenderness melts you. You let your face slip down to his shoulder, nose pushing into his neck. “My head hurts,” you mumble.

“Awe, dovey.” Remus brings his other hand to your nape, massaging the achy muscles there again. “Have you had paracetamol since you’ve been home?”

You shake your head mutely.

“I’ll get you some in a minute, then. And we can have soup for dinner, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You feel frighteningly teary. “Will you stay here for a while with me first, though? Please?”

Remus’ lips press softly to your forehead. “Sure, of course.”

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wordsinhaled · 2 months ago

Text

thinking of a scenario where when charles was little, his mum used to take care of his injuries and do the kissing-it-better thing, until he got older and his dad got wise to that and she couldn’t anymore. but it’s just something tiny that charles associates with comfort.

and so the first time, early on in the agency, that edwin gets badly hurt on a case and charles is patching him up, he leans in and presses a little kiss to the mostly-bandaged spot. it’s just the whole case gave him a scare, because he hadn’t seen edwin hurt bad before, and he’s just getting used to the fact that edwin’s his person, his to keep safe and he didn’t manage that this time, and in his distress he doesn’t even think twice.

edwin stiffens, and charles realizes he just kissed his best mate’s arm, and that’s not the sort of thing you do, is it, and maybe that’s really the sort of thing that’s going to get him knocked in the jaw. only edwin is just looking at him with curiosity, and edwin isn’t the sort of bloke who knocks people in the jaw but he is the type who could leave, could leave charles behind and... and now charles’s face is burning.

“sorry,” he chokes out, finishing the bandage hurriedly. “um, it’s just—something my mum used to do, y’know, kissing it better. when… um. when i’d get hurt as a kid, yeah? used to make me feel proper better, more than the plasters and all that. i know it’s silly, i didn’t think—”

“i did not mind it,” says edwin—who had never had any injury of his kissed better in his short life, and certainly not any of the damage he sustained over 73 years in hell.

“oh,” says charles. “that’s good, then.”

the next time edwin’s hurt it’s a significantly smaller injury, a really minor iron burn that’s already starting to look better even as charles applies the salve. he bandages it up anyway, though. but he’s surprised when edwin stays where he is once charles is done, still expectantly holding out his injured hand, not pulling away, as he usually does. and then he realizes that edwin is waiting for charles to kiss it better. and so he does—hesitant the whole time, in case he read edwin all wrong, up until edwin finally pulls his hand back seeming satisfied somehow, like charles has fulfilled some unspoken half of a bargain.

and that was twenty-some years ago. by now it’s just ingrained that every time charles tends to an injury of edwin’s, even one as minor as a paper cut from a page in edwin’s notebook, he kisses it better. edwin won’t move away until he does.

after edwin’s confession, things change. charles starts to notice that he feels a bit fluttery, the first time after hell that he leans in to press his lips to edwin’s scraped shoulder through a layer of bandage and the fabric of his shirt. and he tries to think nothing of it, only that then his mouth doesn’t connect with anything; because edwin has moved away, moved out of his reach, neatly risen out of the way of charles’s kiss so that he hovers, lips parted against empty air, feeling off-kilter and confused, something like hurt churning through him.

edwin had said he wanted nothing to change between them, and here edwin goes changing things himself. of course that hurts. but why does it hurt so much? and what was that fluttery feeling? and why can’t charles stop thinking about it?

#narrator voice: it was because charles loves edwin back #dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #payneland

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grandline-fics · 7 months ago

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Hi, Hi, Thank you for answering! Since you said you accepted multiples characters i may ask for Ace, Zoro, Shanks if possible Marco with a s/o who during their relationship never show any signs of jealousy nor even possessiveness, very laidback. Yet one day/night, the boys just witnessed their s/o jealousy for the first time. And if possible the s/o’s jealousy is mostly staying deadly quiet with a disappointed gaze, but not cold treatment though. Or something like that? Thank you, thank you, I hope I did not asked characters you aren’t comfortable with :(

DESCRIPTION: They finally see you jealous

WARNINGS: some slight angst but it all ends happily for everyone

CHARACTERS: Ace, Shanks, Marco

WORDS: 2,453

A/N: Thank you for this request! I hope each scenario was different enough for you and that you're happy with the result for this ask

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

If Ace were to find a partner, he couldn’t get anyone better than you. You were his closest friend before you both became aware of your deep romantic feelings for the other and both confessed, allowing things to effortlessly progress into a romantic relationship. With you Ace knows he is safe and free to be himself, just as you can be yourself without judgement. Because you were both friends before becoming a couple, you both are content to spend time together while also being apart. You both can spend an evening in a bar with the other Whitebeard Pirates and hardly say a word to each other until its time for you both to return to the ship. Because of the fact neither of you cling to the other for the entirety of the night, it can lead to some misconceptions about the relationship you both have to an outsider.

One evening you returned to the Moby Dick after being sent out on a solo mission by Pops. As usual the deck was lively and filled with laughter and chatter. You noticed some new faces to the crew, making a note to properly introduce yourself to the new recruits after you spoke to Pops. On your approach you slowed to see one recruit standing very close to Ace, who merely smiled at them with his usual friendly smile. While he couldn’t see the lust in his admirer’s eyes you could see it clearly. “So you’re my commander? I’m so lucky to be under someone as handsome as you.” She smirked and Ace laughed, while you rolled your eyes, continuing to walk forward.

Marco spotted your approach first and called out your name in greeting. Immediately Ace looked over excitedly only for his smile to drop when he spotted the look in your gaze. Normally you were as excited as he was when you were reunited but now you seemed almost disappointed. Worry flipped in his stomach and he reached out towards you but instinctively you pulled your arm away and continued to walk. “I have to talk to Pops first. I’ll catch up with you after.”

“Looks like someone’s in the doghouse.” Izou teased when he knew you were out of earshot.

“Can you blame them? They go for a couple weeks and come back to Ace flirting with another person.” Marco chimed in with a feigned look of disapproval while Ace became panicked and looked between his fellow Division Commanders. Did you really think that? Was he really in trouble? Worse still, was his relationship with you at risk because he hadn’t realised one of the recruits was flirting with him again?

Acting on impulse he immediately raced up the deck and slid to a halt beside you, hooking an arm around your waist and hauling you off of your feet. “Sorry, Pops! Emergency!” he called out over your shouts, ignoring them and the whooping cheers as he carried you below deck to your shared room to speak in private. When you were set on your feet you lightly shoved Ace. “What the hell did you do that for?” You demanded only to blink in surprise when Ace threw himself onto his knees and wrapped his arms around your waist, staring up at you in desperation. “Please don’t end things with me! I promise you’re the only one I want, I’d never throw what we have away. I swear I didn’t flirt back. I’d never-”

“I know Ace.” You stopped his rambling with a small smile and lightly setting your hand on his cheek. “You never realise when anyone flirts with you. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone throw themselves at you.”

“But that look on your face…and Izou and Marco said I was in the doghouse…”

“Yeah I don’t like seeing someone flirt with you but I know you’re loyal to me.” You shrugged. “As for those two, they’re just bored. I wasn’t going to get mad at you for not realising someone wanted to get with you. I trust you Ace.”

“If you were mad at me though…”

“I’d tell you.” You promised before pinching his cheek and scowling. “For example, I’m not happy you dragged me away while I was in the middle of talking to Pops. But I’ll forgive you just this once because of how worried you were.” You smiled to see the relief in Ace’s eyes and suddenly became aware of the strain in your neck. “Now would you please get up and welcome me home properly?” With a grin, Ace adjusted his hold on you and quickly pulled you down to instead settle on his lap so he could lovingly pepper your face with kissed before finally kissing you with all the love he could convey. Despite you promising you were fine he needed to show that you were the only one he ever wanted this way.

SHANKS

“Oh Captain’s got his hands full again….or rather hand full.” You glanced across the bar as you entered the building to see what Lucky had been talking about and your sights zeroed in on the swarm of women around your Captain. Any that hadn’t been able to grab a chair at the table, stood excitedly close all of them listening to the current tale of adventure the crew had been on. Everyone in the crew, including yourself were used to this occurrence. Of course they’d be drawn to the handsome Captain with the roguish smile. You’d been drawn to it and fallen for his charm so you couldn’t exactly blame anyone else for it too.

Despite that you still couldn’t help the foreign, uncomfortable feeling stirring in you at the sight. Up until a few months ago, you would have joined in with the rest of the crew, teasing your popular Captain but since then you’d fallen for him and started a relationship with Shanks which some of the crew still weren’t completely aware of. Jealousy wasn’t something you’d ever really felt before seeing as your previous relationship were flings at best and you and your partner knew as much. What you had with Shanks however felt different and because of the fact neither of you had made it public or put a label on what was going on between you both, it made the feeling even more uneasy at the sight in front of you.

You walked with Lucky Roux to Shanks’ table just as he finished his story. At your approach Shanks’ eyes lit up and he grinned at you from behind his mug. “You two have some catching up to do.” He joked, while Lucky grinned and reached for the filled mug of ale offered to him, you nodded slightly and took your own with less enthusiasm as you normally would. Immediately Shanks’ suspicions were heightened, while his carefree smile remained the look in his eyes sharpened as he observed you drink steadily. A couple of the newer members of the crew rose from their seats to let you and Lucky sit at Shanks’ table out of respect to you both. Lucky took his seat without hesitation whereas you smiled and shook your head gently. Instead you drained your mug and turned to go to the bar for a refill. Shanks’ eyebrow quirked slightly and his fingers drummed against his mug while he watched you in concern. “Were there any issues Lucky?”

“Not a one, Cap’n. Ship got restocked without problem and the locals reported no trouble since our last visit here. Everyone’s happy.” Lucky reported with his usual smile before returning to his own conversation with Hongo. Shanks glanced at you from across the room again, watching as even with your new drink, you remained by the bar, sipping it slowly and staring at nothing. Shanks finished off his drink and moved to stand only for one of the women fawning over him put a hand on his shoulder, insisting they’d go and get the drink for him only for the others to pipe up too, leading them to bicker over who would get him a refill. “No, no, I’ll go myself, it’s fine. You all stay and Ben here will tell you of my best battle, won’t you Ben?”

At the promise of another story, Shanks was able to get away from the table without being followed by his admirers and he let out a sigh when he was out from the crowded presences and now standing beside you, fully noticing the difference he felt in the comparison of the two feelings. While he waited for the bartender to see to him, he glanced at you and saw your far-off look. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m staying close to the alcohol so I can catch up like you ordered me to Captain.” Your answer was even and detached, your gaze remaining on nothing in particular on the opposite wall.

“You’ve got me worried, love.” At that pet-name you finally looked at Shanks. Unable to help yourself you glanced behind him to the table filled with people still waiting for him to return before returning your stare to his face.

“It wasn’t my intention to worry you or ruin your fun. I was keeping my distance specifically to avoid that.” You explained and Shanks finally realised what the problem was. You were jealous, over them? People who paled in comparison to you in every way.

“My fun’s only ruined if you’re not with me.” Shanks murmured closing the small space between you both. He saw the hesitancy in your eyes and he gave you a reassuring smile before securing his arm around your waist and kissing you deeply, the action dispelling the unease you’d been feeling instantly. Over the sound of the crew whistling and shouts of others to pay up because of a bet neither you or Shanks were aware of you broke apart from the kiss and smile when he lay his head against yours. “Should’ve done this a long time ago when I finally got you.”

MARCO

You knew what you were getting into when you and Marco gave into your attraction for each other. You knew that his time would be taken up mostly with caring for Pops on a daily basis and the other members of the crew when they were sick or injured. Any free time he would have was precious and you were never possessive of that. When he was able to spend time with you he did and your patience was alway appreciated from him. Sometimes when he’s overloaded with work you stop by to offer him some food and sit in his office for an hour or so, just to enjoy each other’s presence. You don’t need to talk, just being there is enough for you both.

On this occasion you hadn’t seen Marco because of a nasty flu making its way through some of the crew and after a few days without seeing his face, you’d grown to miss him. So you made your way to the medical office and your step faltered when you heard the familiar sound of his laughter coming from inside. Lightly you knocked on the door once and entered the room to see one of the nurses standing beside Marco as he sat at his desk. You smiled warmly when Marco seemed happy to see you but your smile fell when you spotted the empty plate on his desk. “Ah, you’ve already eaten.”

“Of course he has.” The nurse giggled, smiling at Marco playfully. “Though he would have forgotten if it wasn’t for me. As amazing as he is as a Doctor, he’s hopeless at looking after himself.”

“He’s lucky you’re here to look after for him then.” You said, unable to sound as cheerful as the nurse. Clearing your throat you looked down at the small plate of food you’d brought for your boyfriend. You knew nothing was going on between him or any of the nurses that worked closely alongside him but you still felt the jealousy growing in your chest. This was a small thing you could do for Marco and you felt childish for feeling stung that he didn’t need you. You didn’t like the feeling and needed to distance yourself from the cause. “I’m glad you’ve eaten so I’ll let you get back to your work. Don’t let him overwork himself, okay?” You forced the joke out with a tight smile while the nurse smiled brightly and nodded in joy that you were trusting her. Marco watched silently as you turned and left him. Even with his tiredness, he could still see something was wrong with you.

As soon as he completed the current task on his desk, Marco stood and stretched. After working without resting for these days, he knew no-one would begrudge him a break away from his office. Stretching out he walked through the corridors until he was walking into the room he shared with you. You looked up in surprise from your lounged spot on the sofa. Before you could react, Marco was crawling onto the sofa and laying ontop of you, his head resting against your chest as his arms encircled you, holding you close. “Marco, what are you-”

“You left far too quickly.” Marco groaned out, now that he was lying down he realised just how uncomfortable sitting at his desk was. “I missed you, sorry I was cooped up in my office all this time.”

“You’re don’t need to apologise for that Marco.”

“I feel like I do need to say sorry for something though.” he admitted, lifting his head slightly to look at you with concern. “You didn’t seem yourself when you stopped by.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You promised, gently running your fingers through his hair. Under his patient stare you sighed and continued. “I’m not a doctor like you or trained in anything medical. For the most part I’m fine with that because I’m good in other ways but it’s just when you are overworking yourself there’s not much I can do to help you. One of those things is taking care of you and making sure you’re eating. It’s silly but it made me jealous to see someone else doing that for you.”

“It’s not silly at all. We can’t help our emotions but I’m glad you were able to talk to me about it.” Marco smiled, taking your hand to press a loving kiss against your wrist. “Never feel like you’re replaceable. I’m only ever able to rest like this because of your influence over me. No one looks after me the way you can and you’re the only one I want.”

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angstywaifu · 15 days ago

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Insomnia - Garrick Tavis

Anonymous Request: Garrick x reader where she struggles with sleep/has insomnia and she goes to Garrick for comfort or he finds out somehow and comforts her and she can only fall asleep with him there 💕 just a very fluffy fic

Garrick Tavis x Reader

Masterlist | Support Me

“You look like shit.” Imogen says as I sit down in front of her in the dining hall.

”And you wonder why you’re single.” Bodhi mutters before Imogen smacks him across the head. “Hey!”

”She’s not wrong.” I point out as I shove my fork into a roast potato. “Sleeps been…. difficult lately.”

Bodhi turns to me, concern written all over his face as he looks me over. “You can so no, you know that right?”

I know what he’s getting at. But Xaden sending us on supply runs has got nothing to do with it. I wish that was the issue. But I’ve struggled with sleep every since the day our parents got burned. And every now and then I hit a rough patch of a few weeks were I barely get an hours sleep at night. And right now was one of those patches.

”I’m aware. But it’s got nothing to do with that.” I tell him with a tight lipped smile. “I’ve been struggling with sleep for quite some time now.”

He nods, clearly getting the hint behind my words. And if I can’t sleep, I may as well be on supply runs and make use of not being able to sleep.

”I can take over for you tonight. You look like you’re going to pass out in your chair.” Imogen offers

I shake my head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. It’s only a short one.”

She purses her lips but nods at me. She knew better than to push it. Both of us were as stubborn as each other. Bodhi mutters something about leadership duties and gets up from the table, leaving Imogen and I to eat alone until Quinn joins us. I quickly finish my dinner, getting up from the table before Quinn can notice how tired I look. I feel Imogen’s eyes follow me as I get up from the table and make my way out of the dining hall and towards the flight field. As I make my way into the courtyard, skirting my way around the edges, shadows consume me, hiding me from any prying eyes. I look around, but don’t see Xaden anywhere. But I knew he had eyes on me if he was covering me. Luckily the courtyard is empty with everyone eating dinner. But it was better to be safe than sorry. As I walk up the final steps into the field, Xaden is waiting for me. I’d expected him to be down in the courtyard. It was scary how powerful he was with those shadows.

”Everything ready to go?” I ask him as I walk up to him.

He nods over to my dragon, two loaded packs ready to go next to her. Big enough for her to grab onto, but small enough no one would notice them once she held them in her claws.

”All ready to go. You sure you’re up to this?” He asks me, his onyx eyes bearing into me.

I shake my head and laugh. “Let me guess, Bodhi came to you worried about me.”

He nods. “And with good reason. You look like you’re about to keel over. I can get someone else to do this.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. Like I told Bodhi I’ve struggled with sleep for years now. Sometimes I hit rough patches where I barely get any. But I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

He narrows his eyes at me but eventually nods. “Fine, but I want you to report to me when you get back.”

”You got it Wingleader.” I say with a mock salute before turning and walking over to my dragon.

I groan as we land back in the flight field. The shockwave making everything hurt. Exhaustion was royally kicking my ass, but I could tell sleep still evaded me and I would probably get none once I got back to my room. I slide down my dragons leg, staggering as my feet hit the ground. I stumble for a few steps, putting my hands out to stop the fall I know is coming before something stops me. Not something. Someone. Their hands grip my upper arms tightly from behind, pulling me up right.

”You are far from ok.” A familiar gruff voice growls from behind me.

My eyes widen. Shit. Their hands loosen as I turn to face a very angry Garrick.

”I’m fine.” I tell him sternly, though I know it does little to convince him after what he just saw.

”You nearly falling off your dragon is not fine. When was the last time you slept?” He demands as he takes in the shadows under my eyes.

”I got an hour last night.” I say with shrug before quickly stifling a yawn.

He narrows his hazel eyes at me. “When was the last time you got proper sleep?”

”You know I haven’t slept properly in years.” I shoot back.

Garrick was probably the only one that knew the extent of my sleeping problem. Kind of hard to hide something like that when we we’re fostered together. Countless nights he’d found me awake in my room reading or drawing. Had seen me go through my first rough patch where I’d practically passed out on him during a training session.

”Well aware. So why didn’t you come to me?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow.

”Because we have far bigger issues than sleeping issues we can’t fix. I’ll be fine.” I tell him sternly, before swaying slightly.

Garrick’s hands fly out and catch me before I stumble again. He grumbles something I can’t make out before dipping down and scooping me into his arms. I go to protest, but as he tightens his hold on me, I know I have no chance in fighting this. And I couldn’t deny, the familiar gesture was exactly what I needed. I rest my head on his shoulder as he walks us out of the flight field. It doesn’t take long for the rocking movement and his presence to make my heavy eyes flutter close, lulling me into a deep sleep.

I squint against the bright light, hand flying up to shield me from the sun coming through the open drapes. I groan, burying my head into what should be my pillow, but isn’t. No this solid, harder than a pillow but not uncomfortable. A steady beat thrumming against my ear. The familiar scent of leather, cinnamon and musk instantly having my body relax.

”About time you woke up.” Garrick’s familiar teasing tone meeting my ears.

I smack him lightly on the chest, causing him to laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest into me. “If you keep that up I’m never coming to you if this happens again.”

Garrick’s chest rumbles with laughter again. “You say that every time sweetheart.” He tells me before kissing the top of my head lightly.

”One day I won’t come back.” I warn him teasingly as I turn my head to look up at him.

Cocky bastard just smiles down at me knowingly. “I’ll believe it when it happens. Now get some more rest.” He tells me before shutting his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall.

“Maybe if someone hadn’t left my drapes open I could.” I retort.

Garrick doesn’t even open his eyes as he raises his hand and waves it, the drapes sliding close and plunging the room into darkness. “Problem solved. Now go to sleep.”

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #the empyrean #garrick tavis imagine #fourth wing imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader

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qwimblenorrisstan · 2 months ago

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(im back, christmas break is here!!)

tw: mentions of abuse, violence, sexism (but secondary gender), omegaverse dynamics, crying, heavy angst no aftercare (again)

The uncomfortable tension in the room was palpable as they all sat in their usual debriefing room. Usually, the nest was a place for such a personal and volatile topic such as this, but none of them felt worthy of being there now. Not with how they’d treated you.

Soap was tapping his foot against the floor, the pattern uneven and sporadic, until Gaz snapped at him.

“Could you quit it, mate?” It had come out harsher than he’d meant. Soap huffed through his nose but obliged. They were all tense and on edge, their usually oh-so-controlled scents now sour and bitter with unease and anxiety.

In the field, they had their skills and weapons to fix problems, to take out the enemy. But here, back home? They had absolutely nothing in this fight. No amount of backup or fights could win this for them. In this fight, they were the enemy, and the only way to win this was by fixing the sacred little strand keeping you together that they had so carelessly unwound until it had snapped.

Ghost looked to Price. His hand was in his beard, thoughtfully running through the hair, stressed as Ghost has ever seen him. A sour pang of guilt shot through him. If he hadn’t tried forcing you to his scent gland, then you wouldn’t be in this position, and he wouldn’t have messed everything up, again—

“Y’re thinking too much.”

Price muttered, Simon’s feelings clear through the thick scent that somehow seemed to overpower everyone else’s in the air. He swallowed thickly. They needed a plan of action, some way to fix this, and the only way Price saw things being mended was by a lot of time and effort.

Gaz let the silence simmer for a moment, before speaking up.

“Cane Baker Syndrome, I looked it up yesterday night, it’s just like the med’ said. PTSD. Do you think…?”

An alpha being abused wasn’t as commonplace as it had used to be. Only 50 years ago, if you’d stepped into the common era, you’d see alpha’s being forced to work for a family they’d been forced into providing, their protective instincts abused. Among the more insane practices had been scratching out an alpha’s scent gland, so they couldn’t scent or get attached to their offspring, meaning the omega got the child all to themselves.

Awful things such as that had been outlawed years ago, but still happened in little forgotten corners of the world where loopholes existed.

“We can’t know for sure, but based on their reaction, I’d say we have a safe assumption. When they’re in a better….state of mind, we can ask a few questions.”

Price answered, voice heavy with an edge of guilt that seemed to grow richer by the second. Soap’s incessant tapping started up again, anxiety clearly chewing away at him. He couldn’t defuse you or the situation they’d created so easily like any other bomb he might during a mission.

“Could we get a background check on them?”

He asked, a hint of desperation in his tone. All he wanted was for you to be better again, for things to go back to normal, for a second chance.

But as they all split up, and he went to the nest, usually all so warm and comfortable and smelling of their sweet, rich scents combined, all he found was isolation among his team, sour scents mingling with rotten ones, a few sniffles and the salty scent of tears, he knew one thing.

They’d made their bed. Now they had to lie in it.

(sorry for the short part I’ve been playing cod bo6 multiplayer a lot and I’m kinda addicted + depressive episode, but there’ll be more soon I promise!!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 1 month ago

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Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most | S.B.

feat. Sirius Black x Rowle!reader

SUMMARY: You and Sirius have known each other since childhood due to your families running in the same circles. But after a lifelong loathing of one another, the scale tips another way during the New Years Eve feast after-party.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, hate fucking, enemies to enemies that kiss, abusive siblings, toxic friends, reader is Thorfinn Rowle’s twin sister, side Rabastan Lestrange x reader (it's complicated)

part two | part three | part four | masterlist

divider by @sxmmerberries

“Well, don’t you look supremely vicious this evening,” a low voice hummed in your ear, one you would recognize anywhere.

“Would you like a taste, Black?” You replied, turning your head just slightly so you could see him in your periphery. He looked exceptionally handsome, as he always did, with his regal bone structure and sage eyes, his hair glossy as raven’s feathers.

It made you sick.

“I’d rather chew nightshade. Far less dangerous.” Sirius stepped around to your front, openly surveying the outfit you’d selected for the evening: a black mini dress with long bell sleeves, a silver chain around your waist, and a platform pair of gogo boots that barely brought you up to his chin. “You’re lethal, darling.”

You and Sirius had known each other for years, having been in attendance for countless parties thrown by your families, and you always seemed to end up here, flirting like you were wielding knives instead of compliments. A competition to see who could deal them most flattering, and most lethal blow. And when he’d left his family for the Potter’s, that rivalry only deepened.

It was much easier to hate one another, to twist the most alluring parts of each other into flaws rather than admit the truth of what they were, or how they made you feel.

You were both at the New Years Eve feast afterparty in the Astronomy Tower, a rare multi-house event. Magic kept the blustering cold at bay, and the party safely enclosed in a bubble of warmth. Students from every house mingled, sipping straight from bottles of giggle water and dancing amid a haze of glittering confetti. The music thrummed through you, aiding the alcohol in loosening your tense muscles.

You loathed parties, but your brother, Thorfinn, had insisted. And what the oaf wanted, the oaf got.

Speak of the devil, you caught Thor’s eyes across the party, where he stood with Sirius’ cousin, Rabastan Lestrange, and the Carrow’s, scanning the crowd for their first unwitting plaything of the year. Thor’s gaze flicked to Sirius, and his expression darkened.

You turned your attention back to Sirius, rolling your eyes at him. “Better hurry back to Potter, baby. His hand must be getting cold outside of your ass.”

Your jab didn’t phase him, and he flashed you that dauntless grin. “What? Big brother says you’re not allowed to talk to me?”

Thor started to move through the crowd towards you, a battering ram through water, and panic curled behind your ribs. “I have no interest in speaking with you, reject. Leave me,” you hissed, as vicious as he accused you of being.

His smile tightened, your cruel words finally chinking his armor. Then, the bastard caught your eye flitting past his shoulder and turned, spotting Thor as he prowled ever closer. “Oh, he looks thrilled,” Sirius said, turning back to you. “Better turn that little brain off and play dumb like you’re so good at.”

Anger simmered under your skin, twining with the panic to make you feel a frantic, fevered.

With a huff, you stepped around Sirius and met Thor halfway, allowing him to take your elbow and steer you back across the party, his grip bruising.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, talking to that rat?” Thor seethed, his alcohol-singed breath wafting over your face.

“He came up to me,” you bit back, swallowing the urge to pull away despite the pain.

“So you walk away. Not play your stupid little word games.”

“I know, Thor. I’m sorry,” you said, feigning remorse, but tonight, he wouldn’t be so easily disarmed.

“Your lack of control is a disgrace,” he snarled, before shoving you away and almost directly into Rabastan, who caught you with a steadying hand before quickly releasing you.

“Just stay here,” Rab whispered in your ear, his heat at your back. “Pecking at my cousin isn’t worth the consequences.”

Rabastan Lestrange was far from a good man, but he wasn’t an unfeeling ogre like your brother, so you often took shelter in his calm demeanor and powerful name. If he wanted Thor shipped off to Azkaban, all he had to do was say the word.

Your parents hoped you would snag an engagement proposal from him by graduation, but the months were rapidly winding down. And you couldn't bring yourself to try all that hard, despite finding Rab both intriguing and exceedingly handsome. He was a Lestrange, after all, with angular features and the eyes of hunter, the kind of magnetic allure that only good genetics could buy.

You didn’t respond, snagging another flute of giggle water as it passed by and taking a delicate sip, Thor’s glare still trained on you. As your family demanded, you were to remain the picture of elegance, of restraint.

Appeased, Thor finally turned back to his hunt, and you exhaled.

You watched as students danced and flirted on the dance floor, gyrating and spinning with abandon. How badly you wished you could join them, could let loose for just a moment. And your opportunity arrived when the band started a slow waltz, and Rab’s hand caressed your lower back.

“Dance with me,” he said, not a request, but you didn’t mind.

He led you out onto the floor and you slid one hand up his broad chest, the other placed in his palm. He pulled you closer, his touch light and careful along your back as he started to lead you.

Dancing with Rab was effortless, fluid as water due to his extensive etiquette training, and you quickly got lost in the buoyant feeling of it.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured, and you looked up at him, finding his brown eyes trained on your face, thick lashes heavy, a new intensity blooming.

“Thank you.” You rested your cheek on his muscular chest, overwhelmed by that look in his eye. Your parents would be thrilled. So thrilled, they may not even care that you broke form by resting your head on him.

Rab certainly didn't seem to mind, his hand growing heavier against the curve of your spine and pressing you closer together.

From this new angle, you scanned the crowd, watching countless other couples get lost in their own love story. There was Pandora and Xeno, and Evan and Barty. Not far from them was Marlene and Dorcas, and James Potter and Lily. And to the right of James—your heart stalled, acrid, green poison spilling through your blood.

Sirius was dancing with a girl you didn't recognize, her hair tangled in his long fingers while she kissed up his neck, their bodies flush and swaying.

But his eyes—his eyes were trained on you.

You shifted closer to Rab, an unconscious movement, and he purred in pleasure, his fingers trailing up your spine and making you shiver against him. He smelled expensive, amber and peppercorn, Burberry wool. Warmth began to spread through your lower belly, cloying and dark.

You lifted your head, glancing around to check Thor's location. He was tucked into an alcove with Lucinda, and paying you no mind. With Rab, you were safe from Thor's constant shadow, the burden of the Rowle name. With Rab, you were shielded by his even loftier name, a Lestrange by association. A large enough legacy to disappear into.

It could have been Sirius, your mind whispered, unprompted, and you flinched in Rab’s arms. Where had that come from?

“Alright, darling?” Rab asked, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. “Did something frighten you?”

You shook your head, fingers curling into his chest. “Just a little overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping it comes off as coquettish and sweet instead of pathetic, like you feel.

You saw his gaze flit towards Thor, then back down to you. “Would you like me to throw him off the tower?”

You nearly choked on your surprise, then are stunned further to see a soft smile crinkling his eyes. A nervous flutter tickles your lungs, and you giggle. “No, no. That would be too obvious.”

Rab chuckled, his smile widening. “Fair enough, I suppose. Just say the word, love, and you will be free of him.” He pressed your head gently back onto his chest and you obliged, feeling his steady heart drum under your ear.

But, you couldn't seem to stop yourself from finding Sirius in the crowd once more.

He was dancing with Lily now, laughing and spinning her in wide circles, and that poison spread further, rooting into your bones.

It could have been you.

You flinched again, this time away from Rab. “I'm sorry, I—uh. I need some air.”

Rab looked around, you were literally outside, but nodded sympathetically. “Go on, little doe. I'll handle Thorfinn,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning you loose.

You pushed your way through the crowd and down the stairs, bursting into the empty corridor below, the cold seeping in through the stone.

You leaned against the wall, drawing deep breaths, running your fingers through your hair. It was all too much, you were feeling too much, and you couldn't make sense of any of it.

Rabastan was finally flirting with you, and you ran away from him. From safety, from security, from your inevitable future. And for what? To avoid—

“Good ‘ole Rab scare you off?” Sirius drawled, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. “That was a very swift exit.”

You rolled your eyes, straightening. “Can't allow me a moment of peace, can you?”

He sidled up closer, looking sinful in his all black outfit, his shirt half unbuttoned, neck heavy with silver chains. “Not in my nature.” He smirked.

“No, you're nature is far too effusive. Permeates the fucking room.”

“Wow, I've really got you wound up tonight, doll. Profanities on that pretty, posh tongue? Be still, my heart.”

“Not everything is about you, imbecile.”

He prowled closer, his hand resting on the stone beside your head. “So who is it about? I highly doubt that Rabastan Lestrange has you so hot and bothered.”

“And if he does?” You challenged, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. Your bodies were so close, the heat of him pushing back the winter chill, and that bitter poison in your blood sweetened to something honeyed, sticky and slick and burning.

Sirius huffed a laugh, the warmth of his breath caressing your lips. “Then he’s an idiot for letting you out of his sight.”

“And why's that?” You prodded, bumping the tip of your nose against his, wanting to rip that smug smile off his face with your teeth.

“Because.” Sirius pressed his body to yours, solid and lean, so warm, too warm—”Someone else might burn in the fire he started.”

“You think we care if you burn?” You hiss, hating him so much you could scream, but wanting him so desperately you might cry.

“We?” He sneered, all mirth vanishing from his voice. “If there’s ‘we’, then why am I the one you're arching into? Why am I the one making your reptilian heart flutter?”

“Because you're insufferable and I hate you.” The last word skims the surface of his lips, the faintest brush of contact, a match striking the tinderbox.

“And you're a liar,” he growled, slamming his mouth onto yours in a vicious, wrathful kiss, the electricity between you combusting with a boom that rocked you to your core.

You gasped against his mouth, his tongue driving between your teeth to taste you, claim you. You bit down on his tongue, just hard enough to make him grunt in agitation, and his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air and forcing your to release your hold.

His rings were icy against your fevered skin, his lips against your ear. “Oh, darling. How long have you waited to be bad?”

Unable to move, you flicked your tongue out, dragging it along the hard angle of his jaw, and he shuddered, loosing a wrecked groan.

He crashed your lips together again, open-mouthed and sloppy. He kissed you like every second was stolen, every lick was a victory, and it made your head spin. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen.

He released your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, making your lungs burn. His lips moved down to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as his hands bunched up your dress, fingertips grazing the bare flesh of your thighs.

“Sirius, not here,” you gasped, moaning as he sucked a mark just under your ear, where it could be easily hidden by your hair.

You felt him smirk, and you realized that you'd verbally accepted what was happening, the charade of fighting having fallen without you realizing.

“Why? Afraid you'll get caught with the reject?” He threw your words back at you, and you cringed internally. But there was no malice in his voice, just that infuriating humor.

You grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into a nearby classroom, locking the door behind you. He promptly tossed you up onto a desk, resuming his colonization of your neck, his narrow hips nestled between your thighs.

His hungry exploration of your skin had your blood boiling, your cunt slick and thrumming with need. It was so bizarrely discordant with the loathing in your mind, but it only made your desire burn that much brighter. It didn't help that he was so unbelievably sexy like this, his hair messy, lips rosy and bitten, his shirt wrinkled from your hands.

The image of that leech attached to his neck flitted through your mind, your anger flaming anew. You tangled your fingers in his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. You laved your tongue up his esophagus and his hips bucked against you, the hardness of his cock tangible against your thigh.

You covered his throat in wet kisses and licks, marking every spare inch as yours.

“Fuck, doll. You're a feral little thing aren't you?” He rasped, his hand sliding around your thigh to stroke the outside of your panties. “And fucking soaked for me.”

You bit down on his neck, earning a hiss of pain and another stutter of his hips.

He pressed his fingers harder against your cunt, making big, messy circles over your slit and you cried out, the pleasure far more intense that you anticipated.

“Sensitive, baby? So warm and wet—you've ruined these expensive panties, y’know? Such a shame, I bet they look so fucking pretty—”

“Shut up, Sirius,” you hissed, throwing your head back as his middle finger massaged your clit, stars dancing behind your eyes.

“I don't think I will. I think you like hearing me whisper filthy things in your ear. Don't you, my naughty girl? Ah—shit, yes—feel that? Your cunt is practically purring in my hand, drooling all over my fingers—”

“Sirius,” you whined, the attitude draining from your voice as your orgasm prowled near, your entire body humming with desperation, with need.

“Poor thing, getting close, hm?” He pulled the gusset of your panties aside, the pads of his fingers making direct contact with your puffy clit. With his other hand he undid his trousers and you reached for him, pulling his cock out.

Fuck, it was pretty. Of course it was, it belonged to Sirius Black. Long and veiny, flushed and shining with slick. You licked your lips, longing for a taste, but you needed to come more.

“Merlin’s fucking—” he groaned as you pumped him, smearing precum over the rigid head with your thumb. “Ready, doll?”

You angled your hips forward, lining him up with your gooey entrance. He batted your hand away, grabbing his base and easing himself a few inches inside of you, hissing through his teeth.

“Of course you have the perfect fucking pussy,” he grated, almost angry. “Why wouldn't you fit me like a glove? You fucking brat—”

You were barely listening, lost in the delicious feeling of him spearing you on his cock, ripping you apart at the seams and stitching you back together in the shape of him.

“Fuck, Sirius,” you mewled, falling back onto the desk when he bottomed out, so full it felt like he was in your lungs, your heart, your throat.

He drew his hips back, pausing just before his tip left your entrance. “Say my name again,” he growled, leaning over you.

You bit your lip, eyes flashing with defiance despite the need tearing apart your insides.

“Oh, darling,” he chuckled. He shifted forward, slamming his hips into yours with a brutal punch to your cervix. “I'll get it out of you one way or another.”

He fucked you mercilessly, driving in and out of you like he'd somehow exorcise the attitude from your body. And you fucking loved it, keening and crying out as you thrashed underneath him, unable to get purchase on the smooth wood beneath you. But you held your tongue, refusing to say his name.

“You really are a brat, you know? So fucking spoiled,” he growled against your neck, breathless, his grip painful on your hips. “Giving me nothing but attitude, and here I am, giving you exactly what you fucking want.” He slapped your clit, making you jump and cry out as your orgasm pulled taught, a hairs width from shattering.

“Sirius, please,” you begged, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as the last of your resolve crumbled.

“That’s better,” he cooed, so condescending you'd punch him if you weren't about to explode. “See? You can be a good girl.” His middle finger found you clit again, moving into tight, fast circles, and you detonated.

An inferno burned from your core through every muscle fiber and tendon, every cell and every atom, eviscerating your mind until you were nothing but ash and starlight, weightless and scattered.

But Sirius didn't let up for a second, and you were quickly wrenched back into your body, oversensitive and wrung out, crying real tears as he fucked you through it.

“Fuck, that was beautiful. You even come pretty. Got another one for me? Shit, baby—feels like you do. Squeezin’ me so tight—fuck!” He roared as his own release crashed over him, his cock kicking hard against your tender walls and painting you with rope after rope of his seed.

The feeling drove you into another, smaller orgasm, your body lifting to wrap around his as you both shook and whined, clinging to one another through the onslaught.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, breathing labored and trembling so hard the desk shook beneath you. You collapsed onto your back, thighs clenching and unclenching around his hips, mirroring the frantic flutter of your used cunt.

He kissed you a final time, loose and featherlight, and your heart gave a weak trill. Your breath mingled another moment before he stepped away from you, tucking himself back into trousers.

You sat up, feeling his release squelch between your thighs, and shame crashed down over you, hard enough to steal you breath.

Thorfinn was going to fucking kill you, if he didn't kill Sirius first.

He noticed your expression shift. “Nobody needs to know,” Sirius said, his low, steady voice cutting through the cacophony of panic in your mind. “I won't say anything. To anyone.”

“Not even Potter?” You asked, hating how small your voice sounded.

“No, not even James. This stays between us,” his tone was soft, more sincere than you'd ever heard him, and it assuaged some of your fear.

You nodded, exhaling, though the relief was quickly overshadowed with sour guilt, and something else you refused to look at closely enough to name.

Sirius approached you again, catching your chin and tilting your head up towards him. “But when you go back up there, dance with my cousin, kiss him at midnight, I want you to remember who's dripping between your thighs. Who you were screaming for.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, jerking your chin out of his hold.

“Already did,” he smirked, disappearing into the corridor before you could say anything else.

Heat scorching your cheeks, you cleaned yourself up as best you could in the privvy before returning to party.

Rabastan and Thorfinn descended on you immediately. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

“Where have you been?” Thor growled, tugging you closer by the wrist, his giant hands making the thin bones grind together.

“I told you,” Rab cut in, his voice a glacial calm. “She stepped out to the ladies and to get some fresh air. These parties can be overwhelming for those with a gentler constitution.” Rab gave you a knowing look, a ‘keep your mouth shut and go with it' look, and you nodded in agreement.

His hand fell to your lower back, tugging you closer to him and away from Thor, and like the spineless coward you were, you went gratefully into his embrace.

As if his cousins come wasn't crusting along your inner thighs. Like your lips weren't still tingling from Sirius’ kiss.

“Now, take your hand off of her before I remove it,” Rab ordered, sharp as a razor’s edge.

Thor looked back and forth between the two of you, the singular gear in his brain turning.

Thor released you, suddenly seeming entirely too pleased, and dread coiled in your gut. Some kind of exchange had occurred, a currency trading hands, and it made you vaguely nauseous.

“Come, darling,” Rab murmured to you, leading you back towards the dance floor. “It's only a few moments ‘til midnight.”

When the clock finally wound down, the bell tower tolling loudly enough to shake the floors, instead of pulling you in for a kiss like you expected, Rabastan bowed low. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your ring finger, the same place a diamond would find it's home, and you flushed from head to toe.

Tingles erupted all over your body, your muscles tensing with excitement, but it was quickly followed by a twinge of exhaustion in your core, a sobering reminder of what you'd done.

God, what had you done?

Thank you for reading! 🤍

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zorosangell · 2 months ago

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zoro and his girl who are always bickering and fighting and breaking up and getting back together again. atp, the other straw hats are used to it now. I can also imagine zoro NEVER apologizes and his idea of getting back together with his girl again is just acting like buisness as usual (just going back to her and sitting with her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, kissin her cheek, acting like nothing ever happened, etc) and usually, she’s receptive to it. Because even though she’s as stubborn as zoro (maybe even more), she hates arguing (and loves him too much).

but imagine during one of their arguments, Nami drags her out to go shopping at a island they stopped by, and she sees all these happy couples holding hands and being affectionate and just being sweet and soft with each other. she realizes…zoro is never sweet and soft with her. and he NEVER says I’m sorry (I imagine maybe she sees an arguing couple in the market, but the guy comes with flowers and an apology and it makes her wonder). She makes up her mind, she won’t take him back until he says those words, no matter what. I know this isn’t so descriptive, but I’d love to see you take on this! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。 pit

synopsis: time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

cw: angst, very little comfort, happy-ish ending (left up for interpretation), zoro's kind of an asshole, nami's a girl's girl, reader is better than me.

a/n: listen to promise by laufey or casual by chappell roan if you want the full experience. i've never written a trifling zoro before this was crazy

"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.

"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" the cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take fifty percent off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"

The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.

"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, it's not like you can't afford it."

"Nope," she denied, popping the p as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes. "It's the principle of the matter, (y/n). If I have the option to pay for something half-off, why would I pay full price?"

"They're not half-off!"

"Besides..." her gaze drifted to your outfit, a small pout settling on her lips as she looked you up and down with saddened eyes. "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"

She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want ninety percent off."

The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.

"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one that's out-glamming me," you assured, resting your cheek in your palm as you leaned on the counter.

"But look at you!" she playfully whined. "Your outfit is killer! And your hair is on point, too!"

Though, just as quick as she examined your outfit, she realized that it was really good.

Too good to be shopping in.

"Wait, (y/n), were you supposed to be going somewhere? Why are y—"

The moment your face fell, the glimmer in your eyes dimming at the memory, reality finally donned on the navigator, hitting her like a sea train at top speed.

He did it again.

Anger rushed through the woman's veins like wildfire, her face not even attempting to conceal her fury as it twisted into an expression of absolute rage.

You knew it all too well.

"Nami, ple—" "I'll KILL HIM!"

The clothes on the counter were suddenly a thing of the past as the red-haired woman drew her Clima-Takt and stormed toward the exit of the boutique, the dangerous aura she was emanating sending a shiver down even your spine.

Like magnets, everything began to click for the woman.

The beautiful outfit.

The done-up hair.

The glum look on your face.

'That bastard stood her up again!'

That's why you had been wandering around town aimlessly.

You were waiting for him.

This scenario had become commonplace over the past several months you and the green-haired swordsman had been dating, much to Nami's severe indignation.

It was always the same.

You and Zoro would plan a date.

Zoro would get caught up training, or get caught up drinking, or just plain, old fucking forget.

You would end up alone, having gone through all the trouble and embarrassment.

She would have to console you, and you would have to keep her from bashing his head in.

Then you'd have to face the jerk the next day, who, instead of apologizing, simply acted like nothing ever happened.

As if the entire ship see how utterly crushed you were.

And then the whole cycle would repeat the following week.

Nami was sick of it.

'This shit ends today.'

"Nami, please! It's not worth it!" you ran out the store and after her, grabbing onto her arm. "It's not gonna change anything!"

"The hell it isn't!" she barked, brows cinched tightly together. "(y/n), I won't stand for this anymore! This is what?! The twentieth time?!"

"Twenty-third... but I'm not counting..." you corrected, meekly.

"(Y/N)!"

"I know! I know!" you sighed, plopping yourself down on the curb, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"There's nothing wrong with you! There's something wrong with him not realizing just how much of a fucking catch you are!" she groaned, exasperatedly, as she threw her hands in the air. "Twenty-three times, that bastard... I oughta chip his swords twenty-three times."

"I guess... I just don't get why..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap with glassy eyes. "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?"

Nami turned to you, heart aching at your saddened form.

"Don't think that for another second!" she denied, quickly moving to take a seat next to you, pulling you into a small side hug. "You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Zoro's just being a real jackass."

"But there has to be some reason," you attempted to rationalize, tone rising. "Does he not care? Am I just that insignificant that he can't even waste an hour or two to spend time with me? His girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Nami agreed, loudly, calling the attention of some passersby. "(y/n), you've given him chance after chance after chance, and he still hasn't cleaned up his act."

She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, flashing you a sincere smile.

"I'm not saying you have to break up with him, unless that's what you want to do, but I'm saying that you really need to realize just how amazing you are, and hold him accountable for his actions."

Shooting up from her seat, she stood before you, pointing a manicured finger at your chest.

"You're the prize, girl! You're strong, smart, kind, compassionate, and drop-dead gorgeous! What guy wouldn't want that!" she turned to a few of the men passing by, a smile on her face. "Right?"

"YES!" they cheered, eagerly.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

"Nami!"

"You get my point!" she laughed, resting her hand on her hip. "You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are. Whether that's Zoro or not is up to you, but know that his track record begs to differ..."

Taking a moment, you let her words sink in, your confidence rising slowly but surely.

Maybe you were that great...

Maybe you did deserve more...

Maybe it was time to start anew...

"Y'know what... you're right! It's time for a change!" you smiled, slowly standing up from the curb. "No more tears!"

"Nope!" Nami cheered, proudly.

"No more excuses!"

"None of 'em!"

"No more pretending!"

"Not around here!"

"From now on, I'm gonna start living life for me! And if that means going out clubbing tonight and getting drunk to forget my problems, then so be it!"

"Y'know what, I'll take it! Let's go!" Nami squealed, the two of you quickly charging back into the boutique.

You couldn't fight off your smile, your shoulders feeling like an insurmountable weight had been lifted off them.

For the first time in a while, things didn't seem so bleak.

"Ooo, I think I saw the perfect revenge dress for you, (y/n)! It's gorgeous!"

Walking out of the girls' quarters, you felt like a million bucks—and were probably wearing it too with the amount of money you and Nami spent in town.

But price be damned, the result was phenomenal.

The provocative dress.

The decadent perfume.

The glittering jewelry.

The leg-extending heels.

You were absolutely breath-taking.

Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.

The dress itself was just the right amount of short, and helped carve out your curves deliciously.

Your hair was done courtesy of the ship's archaeologist, its style elegant yet loose to fit the club scene you were going to.

And your skin was practically glowing thanks to the oils Nami had picked up in the market.

So, it was safe to say you were at least a quadruple threat.

Looking down at yourself, you smiled, feeling like the prettiest woman in the world.

No longer concerned with the feelings of others, or the wrong-doings of yourself, you felt freer than you'd ever had.

And you had Nami to thank for it all.

'For finally knocking some sense into me...'

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eyes dragged over your body, almost analytically, a grin rising to his lips.

It seemed he finished his training early...

"Where are you goin' all dressed up?" he smirked, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "You look good... an' smell good, too."

Quickly, you pushed yourself out of his grasp, your legs pressing forward to stride across the balcony, leaving the him to stand there, surprised.

You had never pushed him away before, much less ignored him.

'What the hell?'

"What's the matter with you?" Zoro's voice lowered an octave, brows furrowed in confusion as he followed after you.

You didn't answer, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you pressed on, heading toward the stairs that led off the Sunny.

"(y/n)," he tried again, voice slightly firmer, as he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "(y/n), what the hell's your problem? Where are you going?"

Harshly, you flung his hand off, brows slowly beginning to crease at his audacity.

He was acting like nothing happened.

Again.

He knew exactly why you were fucking upset, but was making the choice to completely ignore it in favor of acting stupid and playing in your face.

Your jaw set tight, all your thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

For the first time ever, anger and resentment began to claw at your chest, your hand itching to rise up and slap him right across the cheek.

Enough was enough.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," you spat, voice dripping with venom as you went back to walking. "I don't wanna see you right now."

"See me?" his brows furrowed as his finger pointed toward his chest, now even more confused. "The hell did I do?!"

Or maybe he was just fucking stupid...

Either way, you finally cracked.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!" you roared, whipping back around to face him, the man flinching at your volume. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S ALWAYS BEEN WHAT YOU DON'T DO!"

The leak in the dam of your heart had finally turned into a full-on flood, and you were now outpouring months upon months upon months of pent up anger.

"You stand me up! You forget our dates! You make it abundantly clear that you would much rather spend the day nursing a sake bottle than with me!" you scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand in the air. "Do you even remember what we were supposed to do today?!"

The swordsman paused a moment, scouring his brain for recollection of the event.

"Hey, Zo'," you piped up from your spot in the corner, shutting the book Robin had loaned you. "I'm gettin' kinda hungry. You wanna grab lunch?"

He nodded, grinding out another squat as he lowered his knees to a ninety-degree angle, somehow perfectly controlling the two ton weight on his back.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," he grunted, holding the position. "I'll catch up. Gonna finish up this set."

"'Kay," you nodded, flashing him an eager smile. "I'll meet you at that sushi place we saw in town."

Zoro's eye shot wide, a sudden sense of dread sinking in his stomach as he finally remembered.

"Oh, shit..."

"Yeah... Oh, shit," you scoffed, turning to head off the ship. "I'm done with this..."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute," he grabbed your arm once again, pulling you back. "(y/n), it was an accident... I didn't mean it."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?! You never fucking apologize!" you yelled, jerking sharply away from his grasp. "At least that way it could seem like you're at least trying to pretend you care about me!"

"Of course, I care about you, (y/n)!"

"YOU CERTAINLY DON'T ACT LIKE IT!" your voice cracked.

He halted, expression falling and chest tugging with pain as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

You were hurting... bad.

And it was all his fault.

All of the times he left you hanging, all of the times he screwed up.

They were all coming back to haunt him, each one doubling the weight of the sinking pit in his stomach.

How could he have not seen?

You had been so patient with him—never raising your voice, never holding a grudge—and he supposed his mind had unconsciously took that as the green-light to proceed.

Granted, he never forgot anything or stood you up out of malice or actual lack of care.

It just... slipped his mind.

Though, in that, he could see where his thinking was flawed, and where you could find a problem.

"Am I... just that forgettable to you?" you asked, voice suddenly small.

Zoro snapped himself out of his thoughts, eye wide at your tone.

It sounded so distant.

"Of course, not, (y/n)," he quickly denied, lurching forward to hold you out of instinct. "I—"

But you stepped back, avoiding his grasp as your arms raised to hug yourself, hoping to keep everything together.

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone," you continued, letting out a few sniffles. "I'm always, always reaching out to you, always down for whatever you want to do. But you just... never reach back... and you don't even bother to apologize..."

Glancing out at the sunset, you fought off the wobble of your lip, hugging yourself even tighter.

"Zoro... I can't be with someone that doesn't care about me..."

That's when everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

Zoro felt like the words cut right through his chest, tearing through his heart and opening it up like force hell-bent on making him see.

He'd rarely felt this feeling, but he knew what it was instantly.

Fear.

"(y/n), don't do this," he started, panic slowly spiking in his veins. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot... but we can work this out. This doesn't have to be... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"But it does," you countered, quickly. "It isn't like this is your first time doing this, Zoro... or your third... or your tenth... or even your twentieth."

You scoffed, half-laughing at the situation.

"If I hadn't said anything, you probably would've made it to thirty."

Zoro's chest stung at the comment, the man almost letting out a wince.

It was harsh... but not without truth.

"I'm freeing myself of all of this, Zoro. I deserve better," you stated, firmly, slowly regaining your confidence as you turned away, heading for the stairs. "This conversation is over. And thanks to you, I'm late."

The swordsman looked just about ready to shit his pants, the finality of your words scaring him more than any enemy.

You were his girl.

His best friend.

His ray of sunshine.

Seeing you so upset, so jaded, because of his actions?

He felt like shit.

And, in that moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to hold you.

To shower you with a thousand apologies.

To make it up to you in any and every way he could possible conceive.

But you were slipping through his fingers like smoke, blowing father and farther away.

"(y/n)... please..." he tried one final time, voice softer than you'd ever heard it before as he carefully grabbed your wrist.

And you nearly broke, the sound of his voice pulling a sharp string on your heart, nearly making you take everything back.

But Nami's words from earlier replayed in your mind, and you fought the feeling, pulling your arm away.

You had to stay strong, for both your sakes.

"We're done, Zoro," you finished, finally descending down the steps. "I'm moving on."

The swordsman watched as you disappeared in front of him, now suddenly feeling as if you were worlds away.

He'd finally done it.

He'd pushed you over the edge.

And rather than feeling angry or upset, or even sorry for himself, he felt empty.

Truly and utterly empty.

The rest of the crew watched from cracked doors and open windows as the man stood there, staring at the place you had once stood like he was in a trance.

Nobody wanted things to turn out this way.

It was clear as day that the both of you loved each other a great deal... but Zoro needed this.

He needed the wake up call.

And now that he was presented with all the necessary truth, he could finally work toward remedying the situation; and, by the will of the Gods, making up his dizzying amount of transgressions against you.

It would be hard work, and for the first time in his life, he would have to be completely vulnerable.

But the crew believed in him.

And the crew believed in you, too.

The both of you would come back from this stronger than ever.

And Zoro would come back to the crow's nest with a calendar hanging front and center on the door.

Courtesy of the ship's navigator.

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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bumblehoneybee · 3 months ago

Note

I saw you take requests and I was soo happy!! I rlly loved that “easy smiles” Drabble u wrote abt curly n reader, so I’d like to request (pre-crash) having a late night conversation with him where reader is getting burnt out/struggling mentally and he can kind of tell? Romantic/platonic r both fine, maybe js some comfort from our fav captain? :) augehghh i want a hug from him so bad. if u don’t feel like writing this that’s more than okay, have a great timezone!! <3

You Can Talk To Me

He doesn't mean to catch you in such a vulnerable moment.

Curly only meant to get some water after hitting the john, but as he shuffles into the lounge, all he can hear is your shaky breathing. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, heart picking up speed as he spots you sat on the couch with your head tilted over the back, staring up at the ceiling.

You only notice him when he calls your name, stood at the edge of the couch.

"Ah," you snap your head up, obviously twinging the muscles of your neck, "oof." You rub the knots out, flashing a weak smile for Curly as he settles onto the couch next to you. "Aha. . . hi, Captain."

"Are you okay?" Curly asks, hands raised and unsure of what to do. Anya is asleep, and he's no real doctor himself, so the options for immediate help are limited.

"Oh, I'm fine." You waft your free hand at him. The lights of the fake window douse your skin in an almost sickly color, like all the blood is gone from your face. Your eyes look dull too. "Just, y'know. . ."

There's a long pause. Seems you can't think of anything to make an excuse out of.

Curly sits next to you, and tries to think. You've always been so. . . jolly, quick with jokes and ideas to lighten the mood. He knows you can't always be happy, but he's never been privy to the moments when your guard falls. This is a first for him, and he's surprisingly nervous.

He's comforted most everyone on this ship. He knows how to do it. So why does the thought of comforting you and doing it wrong scare him so much?

"You know. . ." Curly starts, frantically grasping at the words that are usually so easy. "I know it may seem. . . unprofessional, since I'm technically your boss-"

"You're captain." You agree with a nod that you immediately regret. The rubbing gets faster.

Curly huffs at you, burying amusement under concern. "You can talk to me. I'm higher up, but I'm not one of them." He gestures to the nearest poster of Polle. You shoot the horse a glare on instinct, but your face is quick to fall. "I just want you safe and happy."

The quiet returns, and with it his offer hangs heavy over the two of you. You stare down at your lap, hand still loosely clinging to your neck. Curly tries not to stare at you, but god, your eyes just look so. . . sad.

He wishes he could take your hand, show you he's here for you. But that wouldn't be smart, would it?

A heavy sigh rushes out of your nose. "I guess I'm just getting a little tired." Your face pinches as you say it, so Curly lets you piece your words together. "It gets repetitive, y'know? Everything is the same, day in and day out. I try my best, cause I know everyone here is feeling the same kinda stir crazy I am, but. . . I'm tired."

Curly lunges forward as your shoulders sag, palm pressed to the space between them before he can think better of it. "Yeah?"

"I miss plants." You tell him. "Trees, flowers, grass. I miss the sky and the sun. These damn monitors-" You throw an arm towards the screen in front of your both, face screwed up in disgust. "I hate them. They're not even close to something real. Hell, I'd take looking out into space over them."

Curly's thumb has started rubbing into the base of your neck without him realizing. He can't bring himself to stop, though.

"Back home, I could just visit somewhere new, meet new people, pet a dog and smell enough flowers to give myself asthma." You laugh a little at yourself. Curly smiles, and you return it, sheepish. "Sorry. I do like all of you. I hope I don't sound like I'm sick of ya."

"We like you too." Curly says with a pat on the back. "I get it, though. Days can blend together here, drive you crazy." An idea wiggles into his head, one he can't dismiss, even if it's technically against protocol. "If you want a change in scenery, I could show ya the cockpit?"

Your head snaps up again, and this time Curly is the one to rub the wince from your neck. "Really??" You flounder suddenly, and it strikes just how close he is to you. His face burns as he eases back, hand tingling from the touch of your skin. "I mean. . . if it's alright! I don't wanna impose if you're busy."

"Nah," Curly waves the worry away, "it's nothing. Hell, I could teach you how to fly, if you're interested?"

"Very much!" You chirp.

The lights dim further, probably a code Pony Express programmed to save energy while the crew slept. It didn't matter, though, for your grin and bright eyes lit up the entire damn spaceship.

You have never smiled at him like this before. Curly desperately wants you to do so every day, though.

"Then we'll do a lesson tomorrow." Curly says. He stands up, a hand offered to you. You take it, squeezing his hand before you let it go. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"

"Aye aye, Captain." You do a mock salute, striding off with a wave. "Sweet dreams!" As you pass through the door, you make sure to bow. "Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow!"

With you gone, Curly lets a grin take over his face, hiding it behind his hand.

Seems he's getting some alone time with you tomorrow. He's going to be having sweet dreams indeed.

#curly x reader #captain curly x reader #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader

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daisymbin · 2 months ago

Note

hi sorry 5+9 for seungcheol from the fluff list thank you!!!

of course!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

fluff prompt #5: "you can stay over if you want." +

fluff prompt #9: "I didn't mean to fall asleep on your couch."

you sat up slowly, glancing around the living room. the warm glow of the lamps illuminated the space. everything felt fuzzy for a moment, and then you realized you were lying on seungcheol’s couch, his soft throw blanket tangled around your legs. but it was late—way later than you expected. a quick glance at your phone confirmed that it was nearly 3am you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

the last thing you wanted was to make things awkward, especially since this wasn’t the first time you’d ended up here after a late night of hanging out. but you had to admit, you had been exhausted. the movie marathon had ended in a comfortable silence, and the next thing you knew, you were drifting off.

you shifted and tried to stand up, but your legs were still a little stiff from lying down for too long. as you stood, you heard a familiar voice from the hallway.

“did you just wake up?” seungcheol’s voice was soft but teasing as he emerged from his room, his hair slightly messy as though he had just woken up himself. he paused when he saw you, a smile spreading across his face.

“yeah,” you said embarrassingly, feeling your cheeks warm. “i didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch... it just happened.”

he chuckled, shaking his head as he walked toward you. “you’ve been working hard lately. you looked peaceful so i didnt wake you. you probably needed the rest.”

you met his gaze, his dark eyes soft and kind, and your heart gave a little flutter. it wasn’t the first time he’d been so caring toward you, but there was something about the way he said it that made you feel warm all over.

“thanks, cheol,” you murmured, giving him a small smile as you pulled the blanket off your legs and stood up a little straighter.

he watched you for a moment, his eyes scanning over you like he was taking you in, making sure you were okay. then, his expression softened, and his tone became more casual. “my bed’s a lot more comfortable, you know?”

you blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the suggestion. "what?"

"i mean," he said with a slight shrug, his lips curving into a playful smile, "if you’re gonna stay over, you might as well be comfortable. the couch is nice and all, but you looked a little cramped there."

your cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling more self-conscious. "uh, it’s fine, really, i’m okay here."

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. he stepped closer to you, his voice softening. “you can stay over if you want. no pressure. it’s late.”

you felt your heart race a little, unsure of what to say. you were already over here, and the idea of sleeping in his bed—especially in his bed—sounded tempting, but a little too intimate. but then again, you didn’t want to leave now. it was comfy here with him, and you felt safe in his presence. the thought of spending more time with him, just the two of you, felt so comforting.

“are you sure?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, “and i’m not just saying that to be polite.” he paused, his eyes softening again as he smiled at you, his warmth radiating toward you. “besides, i’d rather you be comfortable.”

you bit your lip, feeling the warmth spread in your chest. you had to admit, his offer was hard to resist. after all, it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company. more than that, you’d be lying if you said the idea of lying next to him, feeling the warmth of his presence, wasn’t incredibly tempting.

“okay,” you said, finally giving in.

seungcheol’s smile widened, and you swore you saw a little sparkle in his eyes as he motioned toward the hallway. “let’s get you in a better spot then.”

as you followed him down the hallway to his room, your mind was racing. you had stayed over at his place before, but you’d never actually spent the night in his bed. the idea felt thrilling, like something out of a dream.

you stepped into the room, and it was just as cozy as the rest of his apartment—dark, soft lighting, a comfortable bed, and a calming atmosphere. you glanced over at the bed and then at him, feeling your heart beat faster. it felt different now. more intimate.

"you sure you want me in here?" you asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.

“hey,” seungcheol said, his voice gentle but firm as he walked over to the bed, pulling the covers back. “we’re friends, right? just two friends hanging out, and honestly, i’m happy you’re here.”

you nodded, trying to push aside the butterflies in your stomach as you sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath you. it was so different from the couch, but in a good way. seungcheol moved to sit beside you, his arm casually brushing against yours, and you couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at the closeness.

"you know," he started, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "it’s a lot more comfortable here than on the couch. i don’t think you’ll be able to get up anytime soon.”

you laughed nervously, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you looked away. "yeah, i can tell. it’s so much better here."

“good,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he shifted closer to you. "i’m glad you’re comfortable.”

you both sat in silence for a moment, the tension in the air hanging delicately between the two of you. you felt like there was so much unsaid, like a million emotions were swirling between the two of you, but neither of you said anything. just the gentle hum of the night filled the space.

finally, seungcheol spoke again, breaking the silence. “you know, if you wanted, you could just stay here... forever.”

you blinked at him, surprised by his sudden boldness. “forever?” you asked in confusion, feeling your heart rate spike a little. surely he didn’t mean that in the way you were thinking.

seungcheol gave you a playful smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you can stay here as long as you want. i’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. what’s the hurry?”

you stared at him, still unsure how to react, but a soft laugh escaped your lips as the tension in the room shifted. maybe this was just his way of teasing you, but somehow, it felt different. like he meant it.

you leaned back against the pillow, glancing over at him. “maybe i will. maybe i’ll just stay a little longer.”

seungcheol grinned, leaning back too, his arm brushing against yours. "i’m okay with that," he said, his voice softening as he relaxed beside you. "just don’t go falling asleep on me again, okay?"

you smiled, feeling the comfort of his presence surround you. "no promises."

and with that, you both lay there in a comfortable silence, the warmth between you both growing, unspoken but undeniable. maybe it wasn’t forever yet—but it certainly felt like the start of something close to it.

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sturn-saturn · 6 months ago

Text

to be loved is to be seen

pairing: fem!reader x matt

warning: just matt being the sweetest, not proofread

you were curled up in bed with your hand on your stomach groaning out in pain. you didn’t want to be too loud because your boyfriend matt was sleeping soundly beside you.

“baby? what’s wrong? are you alright?” he slurs as he turns to face you.

“mhmm”

“no you’re not. tell me.”

“my cramps.” you sob out.

matt knows how bad your cramps are when you’re on your period and it pains him that he can’t take your physical pain away.

he pulls you into his chest and rubs your lower back and hugs you with his other hand. “come here, love.”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t wanna wake you.”

“you don’t need to apologize, baby.” he runs his fingers through your hair gently. “i know how bad your cramps can be. is there anything i can do? i can run you a bath? or i can head out to the gas station and get you your favorite snacks? or i can grab you the heating pad? maybe your comfort movie?”

“would you hate me if i said i wanted all of that?” you look at him with teary eyes.

“i’d be more than happy to take care of you, angel.” matt kisses the top of your head and runs to the bathroom to start your bath. “c’mon.”

matt helps you off the bed gently and walks you to the bathroom. “arms up.”

matt slips off your shirt, well really his shirt, and helps you into the bath.

“alright look, sit here for as long as you need to alright? i’m gonna be back in 20 minutes tops. i’ll get your snacks and i’ll be back soon.”

“okay, drive safe please it’s late.”

“i will, baby.”

matt kisses the top of your head and makes his way out the door.

25 minutes later…

“you doin alright?” he asks.

“mhm.” you hum out. “i think i’m done here.”

“okay. i’ll be in the living room when you’re done okay?”

you nod your head with a small smile.

you get dressed into another one of matt’s shirts and head down to the living room. you see him sprawled on the couch with a heating pad beside him ready for you to use, and the snacks he bought laid out on the coffee table.

“there she is. okay so, i went to 7/11. i got you a cherry icee cause i know you’ve been wanting one lately. i got you twix cause i know that’s the only chocolate candy bar you’ll actually eat. and mini m&m’s because you always tell me that they taste better in the tube than in the usual packaging. goldfish, extra cheddar, and ben and jerry’s.” he says with a big smile on his face.

you immediately burst out into tears walking over to matt.

“oh no, what’s wrong, love? did i forget something?” he asks frantically.

you make your way to your boyfriend. he grabs your waist gently and places you on his lap.

“i’m just so grateful f-for you. like you went out your way to get me snacks and run me and bath and all of that and it’s really late and i woke you up out of your sleep. and you remember small details about what i l-like and it just makes me feel so appreciated and cared for.”

“oh honey, i’ll always take care of you, i’ll always love you, and i’ll always appreciate you. i want nothing more than to keep you happy.” he kissed your tear soaked cheeks.

“you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“yeah, i’ve heard that one before.”

you let out a giggle and hug him tightly.

“alright bloody mary let’s get this heating pad going.”

“MATT!?”

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eliaah · 5 months ago

Text

you called them “your husband”

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, william vangeance, & jack.

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i forgot to add william in my last post so here's my apology for him shjsksksks, i'm so sorry that i forgot him 😭

🍁 YAMI SUKEHIRO

The tavern is lively tonight, filled with the usual rowdy crowd. After a long mission, there’s nothing better than unwinding with a drink in hand, especially with Yami by my side. We’re sitting at the bar, close enough that our shoulders brush together every time one of us moves. It’s a small comfort, a reminder that he’s here, and that I’m safe.

The Black Bulls are scattered around the tavern, celebrating in their usual chaotic fashion. Magna and Asta are arm-wrestling in the corner, while Finral is attempting to flirt with a group of local girls, much to Charmy’s amusement as she devours her feast. The laughter and chatter create a warm, buzzing atmosphere that feels like home.

Yami leaned in closer to me, his deep voice rumbling softly in my ear. “You did good out there today. Not bad for someone who’s usually stuck doing paperwork.”

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Captain.”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Damn right you are.”

The comfortable banter between us had always been there, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through our veins, or maybe it was just the warmth of the tavern and the closeness we shared.

As I take a sip of my drink, a group of regulars from the tavern comes over, striking up a conversation. They’ve clearly had a few too many, but their curiosity gets the better of them. One of them, a burly man with a grin that shows off a missing tooth, looks between Yami and me.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” he asks, his voice slurred.

I feel a mischievous smile tug at my lips as I lean back in my chair, deciding to have a little fun. “Oh, he's my husband.” The words come out before I can fully think them through, but once they’re out there, I don’t regret them. There’s a split second where everything feels like it’s frozen in time—like the whole tavern is holding its breath.

Yami, who had been in the middle of taking a drink, nearly chokes. He looks at me with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement. The rest of the group looks between us, unsure if they should laugh or back away slowly.

“Husband, huh?” Yami finally says, setting his drink down and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

I give him a cheeky grin, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah, you got a problem with that… husband?”

The word feels strange on my tongue, but it also feels right. And by the way Yami’s looking at me, I can tell it hit him just as hard. He leans closer, his face just inches from mine now, and I can see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one.” he says, his voice low and teasing. But the way his lips quirk up and his ears turn a little red gives him away. He’s as flustered as I am.

“I’d like to see you try.” I shoot back, my heart racing faster than it should. There’s a charged energy between us, something more than just the usual teasing banter.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. His face is so close, and all I can think about is how red his cheeks are—how red mine must be too. It’s ridiculous, really. We’ve been together for a while now, and yet, this simple word, “husband,” has both of us acting like nervous teenagers.

Yami’s the first to break the silence, laughing softly as he pulls back slightly, his grin widening. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Yeah, yeah. You know you liked it.”

He gives me a look that’s half amused, half something else—something warmer. “Maybe I did.” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost serious.

There’s a moment where neither of us says anything. Then, as if realizing how sappy things are getting, Yami suddenly grabs his mug, downing the rest of his drink in one go. I laugh, the tension breaking as easily as it had formed.

But even as we go back to our usual banter, teasing each other about anything and everything, I can’t help but notice how his hand occasionally brushes against mine or how his gaze lingers just a little too long.

And when the night finally ends and we head back to the base, Yami pulls me close, his arm around my waist, and whispers in my ear, “G’night, wife.”

My heart skips a beat, and I look up at him, seeing the same flustered expression on his face.

“Goodnight, husband.” I whisper back, feeling my face flush once more.

We walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both of us trying to hide our smiles in the darkness of the night.

🍁 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The grand hall of the Vermillion estate is quiet tonight, a serene stillness settling over the room. The warm, golden glow from the fireplace bathes the space in a comforting light, making the shadows dance along the walls. Fuegoleon and I are nestled together on a plush couch, wrapped in a peaceful silence that feels as intimate as any conversation. His arm is draped over my shoulders, fingers gently playing with a strand of my hair, and I find myself leaning into him, savoring the rare moment of calm.

The day had been long, filled with duties and obligations that left little time for us. But now, with the world outside feeling so far away, it’s just the two of us. This, I think, is my favorite part of the day.

I tilt my head to look up at him, admiring the way the firelight softens his usually stern features. “You know,” I begin softly, a playful tone creeping into my voice, “I could get used to spending my evenings like this.”

Fuegoleon looks down at me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “And what exactly would that be?” he asks, his voice warm.

“With my husband.” I reply, the words slipping out almost too casually, though the impact of them is anything but.

For a moment, everything seems to pause. Fuegoleon’s eyes widen slightly, the word clearly catching him off guard. He blinks, processing what I just said, and I can see the faintest hint of pink rising to his cheeks. Despite his usually composed demeanor, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression, something that makes my heart swell.

“Husband.” he repeats, almost as if he’s testing the word on his tongue. His voice is calm, but there’s a softness in it that wasn’t there before. I can tell that he’s flustered, though he’s trying to hide it behind that noble composure.

I smile up at him, feeling a bit giddy at his reaction. “Yes, my husband.” I say, a little more firmly this time, enjoying the way the word makes him react. “That’s what you are, after all.”

Fuegoleon lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh, the sound so unlike his usual self that it makes my heart skip a beat. “Well then,” he begins, his voice gentle but tinged with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush, “if I’m your husband, then that must make you… my wife.”

Now it’s my turn to feel flustered, the weight of his words sinking in. There’s something so intimate, so precious about hearing him call me that, and I can feel my face heating up in response. But it’s not just the words, it’s the way he says them, with such sincerity and affection that it makes me want to melt into the cushions.

He notices my reaction, and a soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes filled with a rare, tender warmth. Fuegoleon shifts slightly, his hand cupping my cheek as he leans in closer. “My wife.” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it makes my heart flutter.

I lean into his touch, my own smile widening as I meet his gaze. “I think I like the sound of that,” I murmur, my voice trembling slightly with the overwhelming rush of affection I feel for him.

His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “And I think I like calling you that.” he replies softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Fuegoleon leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, the gesture so full of love that it takes my breath away. As he pulls back, his gaze lingers on mine, and I can see the soft blush that still colors his cheeks. It’s a rare sight to see him this flustered, and it makes the moment all the more special.

“Husband.” he says again, the word almost reverent, as if he’s savoring it. “I promise, I’ll always do my best to be worthy of that title.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, not wanting to miss a second of this moment. “And I’ll always be here by your side.” I whisper, my voice filled with all the love I feel for him.

He pulls me closer, wrapping me in his arms, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my own. As we sit there, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace surrounding us, I realize that this—right here, with him—is all I’ll ever need.

And as the night drifts on, and the flames in the fireplace begin to die down, Fuegoleon’s hand remains intertwined with mine, a silent promise that whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together, as husband and wife.

🍁 NOZEL SILVA

The grand hall of the Silva estate is elegantly decorated for Nozel’s birthday. Soft lights and floral arrangements create a warm, inviting atmosphere, and the guests mingle with drinks in hand. Despite the festive mood, Nozel stands somewhat aloof, his usual stern demeanor reflecting his indifference towards birthdays. Yet, he appears subtly touched by the effort around him.

As the evening progresses, a series of heartfelt messages are shared in Nozel’s honor. When it’s my turn, I step up with a blend of excitement and affection, feeling both nervous and eager to speak.

Nozel looks at me with his usual calm but curious gaze, and I begin.

“Happy birthday, Nozel. I know you often think birthdays are just another day, but I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much you mean to me. Your strength and dedication are truly admirable, but it’s your kindness and support that touch my heart the most. I’m incredibly grateful for every day we spend together.”

The room is silent as everyone listens, clearly moved by my words. Nozel’s expression softens, a rare, tender smile gracing his lips. The crowd watches with anticipation.

I take a playful breath and add, “And, since it’s your special day,” I continue, “I guess I should mention… I’m glad to be with you, my husband.”

A collective gasp echoes through the hall, followed by curious whispers. “They’re married? When did that happen?” The room buzzes with surprise.

Nozel’s face turns a deep shade of red, his usual calm composure replaced by an endearing fluster. I can’t help but chuckle, enjoying the playful chaos I’ve stirred.

After the applause, Nozel approaches me with a sheepish but affectionate smile. “Did you really have to drop that bombshell in front of everyone?” His voice is gentle, tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from both the excitement and his reaction. “I just thought it would make your birthday more memorable.” I tease with a wink.

Nozel’s blush deepens, but his eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I appreciate that.” he says, his smile widening. “It’s nice to know you care enough to tease me like this.”

I squeeze his hand playfully. “Even if it’s just teasing, I wanted to remind you that you’re deeply loved and appreciated. I hope it made you smile.”

Nozel’s expression turns even more tender, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You certainly succeeded in making me smile. And... I have to admit, I’m starting to like the sound of ‘husband’.”

As the evening continues, our playful banter becomes a sweet part of the celebration. Nozel, embracing the nickname, uses it with a fond smile. His initial embarrassment fades into a comfortable affection, and he begins to tease me back with a charmingly flustered grin.

When the soft strains of music fill the room, Nozel extends his hand with a gracious smile. “May I have this dance, my wife?”

I nod, feeling my heart flutter with happiness. As we move to the center of the room, Nozel’s hand is gentle but firm, guiding me with care. After a few moments, he leans in and kisses the back of my hand, his eyes full of warmth.

“I’m glad to have you by my side,” he murmurs softly. “And I’m grateful for every moment we share, teasing or otherwise.”

I smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “And I’m glad to be with you, husband.”

As we continue to dance, surrounded by the soft glow of the candles and the cheerful hum of the celebration, the night transforms into a moment of genuine connection and affection, making it a birthday to remember for both of us.

🍁 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

The flower shop is a haven of tranquility, its shelves bursting with colorful blooms and sweet fragrances. William and I are browsing, searching for a special flower to celebrate our relationship. As I sift through the flowers, my excitement builds, knowing this day is about cherishing our bond.

Spotting the elderly shopkeeper, I approach her with a warm smile. “Excuse me, I’m looking for white orchids. They’re for my husband.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes light up with a gentle smile. “White orchids, you say? We have a lovely bouquet in the back. Let me get it for you.”

As she heads to retrieve the flowers, I glance back at William. He’s standing a little ways behind me, his face slightly flushed and a soft smile on his lips. He seems genuinely touched by my casual use of “husband.” and it makes my heart flutter.

William steps closer, his voice tender yet playful. “You really didn’t have to call me that in public. It’s… unexpected.”

I turn to him, my eyes filled with affection. “I wanted to. It feels right to call you that, even if it’s just a playful term. It’s a small way to show how much you mean to me.”

William’s cheeks are tinged with pink, and he looks at me with a mix of surprise and warmth. “Well, I have to admit, it’s quite endearing. It’s not something I expected today, but it certainly made me smile.”

The shopkeeper returns with a bouquet of pristine white orchids, placing it gently on the counter. I take the bouquet, feeling its delicate beauty. As I hold it close, I feel William’s hand brush against mine, and he leans in slightly.

“Thank you for choosing these,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re perfect, just like you.”

I blush, feeling a deep sense of joy. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted to do something special for you. Even if it’s just a small gesture, it means a lot to me.”

William’s smile grows, and he reaches out to gently tuck a white orchid from the bouquet into my hair. His touch is tender, and his eyes are filled with a loving gaze. “This flower suits you perfectly. It’s a symbol of how much you mean to me.”

I feel my heart race at his sweet gesture. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, and it makes this moment even more special.”

As we leave the shop after purchasing, hand in hand with the bouquet between us, William’s gaze is soft and affectionate. “I have to say, I’m not embarrassed by the nickname. It makes me happy. It’s a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

I smile, feeling a warm blush on my cheeks. “I’m glad you like it. It’s just a small way of saying how much I love being with you.”

William’s smile deepens as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “And I love every moment we share. You’ve made today unforgettable.”

Walking together, the bouquet of white orchids between us, the day feels magical. William’s gentle touch and the warmth of our shared moments make everything feel perfect, and I feel deeply connected and cherished.

🍁 JACK

During a lively festival, Jack and Yami are locked in a heated cooking competition. The atmosphere is electric, with people cheering and enjoying the festivities.

Jack and Yami are both in the middle of preparing their dishes at their respective stalls. The crowd is watching intently, and the rivalry between the two is adding to the excitement of the event.

As Jack is focused on his cooking, he suddenly starts arguing with Yami about the best way to cook a dish. Their bickering gets louder and more intimidating. Trying to intervene and bring some calm, I step in.

“Alright, you two, enough already!” I say, trying to be heard over their arguing.

Jack turns to me, looking slightly frazzled. “What’s the matter?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “You’re making a scene, Jack. You need to focus on your cooking and stop fighting.”

Jack’s eyes widen in shock, and he tries to respond, but I cut him off. “And as much as I adore you, you really need to stop being such a loudmouth. I suppose that’s just how my husband acts.”

The entire area goes quiet for a moment, with everyone turning to look at us. Jack freezes, his eyes widening in shock. Yami bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying Jack’s reaction.

“Husband?” Yami calls out, laughing. “You two are married now?”

Jack’s face turns bright red, and he looks around, clearly flustered. “W-what? No, it’s just—”

I give him a teasing smile, enjoying the effect of my words. “Just a slip of the tongue, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jack tries to regain his composure but is clearly struggling. “Yeah, sure. Just a slip of the tongue,” he mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment.The crowd starts chuckling softly, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Yami continues to tease Jack, while Jack tries to focus on the competition, though his flustered state makes it difficult.

As the festival winds down and we finish packing up, Jack approaches me with a slightly nervous but hopeful expression. He pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box from his bag.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I look at the box with curiosity. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jack replies quickly, trying to downplay it. “Just a little something I thought you might like.”

I open the box to find a portion of my favorite food, carefully prepared and packed. My heart warms at the sight.

“This is really sweet of you. Thank you.”

Jack scratches the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well, you mentioned you liked it a lot, so I figured... you know.”

I smile, reaching out to give him a gentle hug. “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Jack smiles back, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t expect me to call you ‘wife’ all the time or anything.”

I laugh, holding the box close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As we walk away from the festival, Jack occasionally glances at me, clearly pleased by my reaction. The playful teasing from earlier is replaced with a comfortable, warm feeling between us. The evening ends with us enjoying the food Jack made, sharing stories and laughter under the stars, with the sweet memory of his thoughtful gesture adding a special touch to the night.

#black clover #yami sukehiro #fuegoleon vermillion #nozel silva #william vangeance #yami sukehiro x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #nozel silva x reader #william vangeance x reader #jack the ripper #black clover x reader #black clover fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #eliah.works #scenarios

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