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whowritessometimes · 6 months ago

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Back and Forth - Art Donaldson x Reader

A Stanford!Art Donaldson and Stanford!Reader fic :) Kinda slow burn, very soft very sweet.

Word Count: 3.9k

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The California summer sun beamed down on the court, making the colors of the advertisements and signs around you appear almost neon. Upbeat music flowed through speakers that you couldn't quite place, embodying the feeling of the tennis matches that surrounded you, the back-and-forth beat pulsating through your head. It was almost overstimulating, but this was your normal.

You were pre-med at Stanford, volunteering at some local tennis camp to fill your summer and add fodder to your resume. You didn't do much, occasionally helping some rich, pompous kid stretch out their wrist, or their knee, or their ankle, or whatever. The days blurred together, they all spoke to you in the same condescending way. For most people, it would be mind-numbing.

But it was exhilarating. You had this intrinsic love for tennis, you always had. Perhaps it was that love that led you to signing up for this gig, and not the resume experience. But you would never admit that to anyone. You had played tennis for fun your whole life, with your family growing up, with your friends in high school. It was only when you shattered your wrist sophomore year that you had to stop.

It sucked. It sucked at the time, and it sucked now. You weren't professional-level at tennis, not like these people, but it was nice to have a hobby unlike anything else people expected you to do. The pre-med thing, the reading, the studying, it came naturally to you. And it wasn't like you didn't enjoy it, and it wasn't like you weren't good at it, but you loved tennis. And every now and again, you missed it.

So here you were. Your head followed all the heads in the crowd in a practiced, synchronized, subconscious back-and-forth. There wasn't really ever a crowd, the games at the program were often informal, the audience often consisted of coaches and other players. But this was a unique match, Stanford's players engaged in a captivating display of athleticism. It was almost like a dance, the way they seemed to know the moves of the other before they made them. You could feel the intensity from your tent by the end of the bleachers.

Stanford's star player (well, one of them)—Art Donaldson. You'd half-watched him play from your tent whenever you weren't working. He was elusive, but undoubtably one of the best there. You had never spoken. He was enigmatic, focused on his training and on helping others. He had perfect technique, people said. Now, you had the chance to really see how he was. And he was. Top of his game.

Usually.

The air was thick with humidity. Your gaze flickered between the players, boredom warring with the gnawing anxiety that always hummed beneath the surface during matches. Then, a sound sliced through the rhythmic thwack of the tennis balls—a sharp cry of pain.

Your head snapped left like a whip, your heart leaping into your throat. There, sprawled on the opposite side of the net, lay Art. His face was contorted in agony, one hand clutching his ankle at an unnatural angle. His racket lay a few feet away, as forgotten as the polite pleasantries that had filled the air before the match.

The shitty plastic chair beneath you creaked in protest as you scrambled to your feet. Ignoring the surprised yelp from the equally shitty excuse for a supervisor you'd been assigned for the summer tennis program, you sprinted across the court. Dust billowed in your wake, blurring the vision that was already swimming with a mix of dread and the adrenaline rush that always came with seeing someone hurt.

You skidded to a halt beside him, kneeling. His eyes, usually bright with playful competitiveness, were screwed shut, teeth clenched as he fought back a string of obscenities you knew all too well.

"Hey," you said, forcing your voice to remain calm despite the tremor running through your body. He flinched at the sound of your voice, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his normally confident expression.

"Hey," he managed to rasp out, opening one eye a sliver. He tried to push himself up, but his face crumpled again as a fresh wave of agony shot through him.

"Don't move," you ordered, the calmness in your voice surprising even you. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was slick with sweat, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from his injured ankle.

"'S bad, huh?" he breathed, a flicker of vulnerability in his voice.

The concern in his eyes sent a jolt through you. It wasn't just the pain; it was the fear.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice softer now, "We'll get you checked out. Just...hold still."

Ignoring the sting of sweat in your eyes, you carefully slipped your arm around his waist, offering what little support your slight frame could provide. Heaving him halfway onto your leg, you began the slow, agonizing walk towards the medical tent. Each step sent a spike of pain through Art's leg, reflected in the way he gritted his teeth and winced with every movement.

The supervisor, finally spurred into action, scurried behind you, muttering something about ice packs and paramedics. But your focus remained solely on Art, on getting him to help as quickly as possible.

You knew what it was like. Maybe that's what spurred your immediate action, your need to help him recover, to keep playing. You knew what it was like.

The antiseptic sting of the medical tent assaulted your nose as you hovered beside the injured player. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he clenched his jaw with each prod from the trainer.

"Think they all saw that?" he finally rasped, a hint of amusement battling the pain in his voice. You blinked, surprised by his oddly timed humor.

"Doubt it," you played along, a small smile tugging at your lips. "'S not like you're Art Donaldson or anything."

A sheepish grin replaced his grimace. "Thank god."

The trainer finished his work, leaving you and the injured player alone in a tense silence. He cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours for the first time.

"So," he began, trailing off as he stared into the ceiling of the tent. There was something in his expression, the physical pain, the fear that comes with injury, the odd quiet of an unfinished game.

"So," you mimicked, sitting next to him in another shitty chair.

Something hung in the air, something all too familiar to you. He turned his head to look at you, to make eye contact, keeping his body flat on the cot. You realized then how close you were. Close enough to see his eyes, the sharp point of his jawline, the strawberry blond of his curls.

You averted your gaze, looking out into the brightness of the tent entrance. The typical ambiance of the outside seemed to be drowned by the odd intimacy you'd created together, the silence between you and Art seemed to be the only noise you could hear. His shoddy breathing, despite his attempts to pretend he was okay, only brought you back to when you felt the same way he did, all those years ago.

A blush crept up your neck. You fumbled for something, anything, to break the charged silence in the tent. "I, uh, broke my wrist sophomore year," you blurted, surprised by the words leaving your lips. "Tennis, ironically. One minute I'm playing—probably terribly—and then I'm in the ER holding a bag of frozen peas. And, I don't know, I guess I'm just saying... I get it. Sort of."

"You trying to distract me?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah," you admitted, a hesitant smile mirroring his. "Is it working?"

"Yeah, actually," he conceded, leaning back on the cot. "Tell me more."

You felt a genuine laugh bubble up from your chest, the first since the moment you saw him crumpled on the court.

---

And that was really the last time you saw Art. Suffice to say you hadn't forgotten about the encounter. It was actually stupid, how often you thought of it. He didn't even know your name, but you remembered the timbre of his voice, the softness of his gaze.

In your defense, he was hard to avoid. Now that the spring semester had started, tennis season was in full swing. His picture was plastered around the most of the facilities you frequented, future NCAA champion Art Donaldson.

The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming jasmine hung heavy in the crisp California air as you hurried across the bustling Stanford campus. The semester had sprung with a vengeance, bringing with it the usual flurry of activity—overloaded backpacks, animated discussions about last night's party, and the ever-present anxiety of looming deadlines.

Today, however, an extra weight sat on your shoulders. Your pre-med advisor dropped a last-minute surprise: mandatory tutoring for a struggling athlete. Juggling med school coursework with a part-time job at the campus health center was already a tightrope walk, and adding this felt like a precarious extra step. But you managed it, as you did most things. How you had some semblance of a social life was a mystery. And maybe your very obvious lack of a love life was why you thought about Art so often. You didn't have time to psychoanalyze yourself, though. You barely had time for whatever this tutoring session was about to be.

Reaching the designated classroom, a small, windowless space usually reserved for last-minute group study sessions, you took a deep breath before pushing open the heavy door. The sterile light inside momentarily blinded you, but as your eyes adjusted, a sight unfolded that caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Sprawled across a cluttered table, papers piled haphazardly around him, was a man who you'd spent the better part of the last few months thinking about.

There, unmistakably, was Art. His signature strawberry blond hair, slightly longer than you remembered, covered with a backwards baseball cap, curled at the edges, framing his face. A deep furrow creased his brow, a testament to the frustration radiating from his hunched form as he focused on a massive biology textbook. An unsettling warmth bloomed in your chest, a reaction entirely too potent for a tutoring session.

The memory of him sprawled on the opposite side of the tennis court last summer, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle, flickered across your mind. The panic that had gripped you then seemed almost comical now. The sterile environment and the way his eyes had held a curious blend of pain and something else—gratitude, maybe?—all formed a vivid memory you hadn't realized had imprinted itself so deeply.

His presence filled the small room, unexpectedly stealing your breath and injecting a jolt of something entirely different into the monotonous routine of your day. A shyness spread across your face, tinged with an unfamiliar nervousness as you cleared your throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the sudden silence.

A slow smile took over his features as he looked at you, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you were caught in that smile, a memory resurfacing from the hazy days of summer.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice warm. He reached a toned arm, pulling out a chair for you.

"Hi," you blinked, momentarily flustered by the gesture and the echo of familiarity in his voice. There was a moment of tension in the air, of uncertainty, of a strange sense of reconnection. Finally, you managed to force out the words, "How are you?"

"My ankle's a lot better now, if that's what you're asking," he replied with a playful glint in his eyes. His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long, making you hyperaware of the way your heart hammered against your ribs.

"You remember me?" you blurted out, the question leaving your lips before you could stop it.

"Course I remember you," he said, his voice laced with amusement. You couldn't ignore the way his eyes flickered from your face down to your body, and back up. Blatantly checking you out. And you could hear his smile in the way he spoke, warm and genuine, sending a familiar flutter through your stomach. The memory of his teasing laughter in the sterile medical tent resurfaced.

"Right," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You shifted in your chair, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of his gaze on you.

The next hour or so unfolded in a way that surprised you both. Art's initial confusion melted away as you hovered next to him, animatedly explaining each concept. Social life, love life, Art Donaldson, you couldn't explain. Biology, medical stuff, sports, you understood.

And he was beginning to as well. Time became a forgotten entity, measured only by the turning of pages and the occasional frustrated groan from Art. He wasn't the cocky athlete you'd half-imagined, but someone with a genuine curiosity about the world around him and some kind of depth hidden beneath his confident facade on the court.

Finally, Art leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "We should probably call it," he declared, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. He thanked you, looking into your eyes as he said your name, the syllables dancing off his tongue in a way that made you feel like it was more than a word you had offhandedly mentioned to him.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, your voice softer than you intended.

The study sessions became a regular occurrence. The two of you exchanged numbers, only to arrange meetings, you reminded yourself.

But whenever he called, you found yourself talking about so much more than biology. It started with him asking how you were, a simple courtesy that somehow felt more genuine coming from him. Yet, as you replied, a comfortable ease would settle in. You'd find yourself laughing at inside jokes, dumb stories, the kind that wouldn't be particularly funny to anyone else, would mindlessly tumble out, fueled by the comfort you felt in his presence. It was a kind of nonsense, a space where you could just be yourself, and somehow, it felt like everything and nothing all at once.

---

Now, it was late, and it was finals week.

Papers and textbooks were scattered across your desk, a battlefield of scribbled notes and highlighted passages. You were in the trenches, neck-deep in the intricacies of biochemistry, desperately trying to cram information into your sleep-deprived brain.

Suddenly, the familiar buzz of your phone cut through the silence of your cramped dorm. You fished it out of your pocket, a flicker of annoyance battling with the ever-present hope that it might be a break, a distraction from the relentless onslaught of scientific jargon. Gratefulness shot through you when you saw Art Donaldson's name on the screen.

You answered the call. His voice crackled through the phone, laced with desperation. "I need your help," he blurted out, completely unlike his usual easygoing self. "What the fuck is molecular cell biology?"

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "In general?" you replied, already picturing the hours that it would take to explain the subject. Finals be damned, apparently.

"Can you just come over?" he groaned. "If you aren't doing anything."

You glanced back at the flashcards on your desk. "I'm not doing anything."

So here you were, knocking on the door of Art Donaldson's dorm. You heard rustling from the other side, making you wait just a beat longer in the dimly lit hallway. You rocked back and forth on your heels, chewing the inside of your cheek and rethinking your current appearance. The oversized Stanford hoodie, mess of your hair, and lack of makeup now seemed ill-fitting for a meeting with the boy who had somehow winded his way into becoming your crush. You felt like a kid again, back in high school.

You were starting to worry you had the wrong room until the door swung open, bathing the hallway in a golden, hazy light. There stood Art, moving his large frame out of the way to gesture you into his room with a short greeting and a "thank god." You didn't know what you expected, really, but there you were, slinking a little too closely past him as he stood in his doorframe. You felt his breath on the back of your neck as he stood behind you, guiding you to his tiny desk in the corner of the room. His hands ghosted over the small of your back, and you felt his warmth, despite him not actually touching you.

The room itself was small. It wasn't unlike yours, or any of the others on campus. But it somehow felt smaller with Art next to you, burying his face in his hands every time you patiently explained a concept you'd gone over already. His face. He was so close to you now, the quiet of the night and the room only making you feel closer.

The energy of this study session felt so different from all your others in the past. You weren't in a classroom, or meeting him after practice in the library. You were seeing another side of Art, the part of himself he didn't publicize. Every freckle, the stretch of his faded t-shirt over his body, the curls he brushed out of his eyes every now and again, the way he flexed his callused hands as he cracked his knuckles, a nervous fidget.

It felt like time slowed down. You labored over the biology textbook, finding practice questions and asking him some of your own. You were gentle, cautious. Maybe it was the weird intimacy of the moment, maybe it was the lack of air in the cramped dorm. Your voice was soft, and you couldn't help but notice how the tension Art held over the phone and when you entered the room melted away. Did you do that? You felt this reciprocation, possibly imagined. But whenever you cracked a dumb joke, he'd laugh and put a hand on your arm. The contact always made you freeze. The touch was a reminder he was real, he was tangible. Every fleeting gaze, every smile in your direction.

You had almost reached the end of the chapter, and Art was getting almost every practice question right. You fidgeted with a sheet of his messy notes, reading it over to continue some rant you were on about RNA.

"...made up of nucleotides, which are ribose sugars attached to nitrogenous bases and phosphate groups..." You trailed off, looking up from the papers only to find his gaze already on you. How long had he been looking at you? And the way he looked at you...

"Do you want to take a break?" He tilted his head.

You quirked an eyebrow, unable to fight your smile. "Sure."

He got up with an over-exaggerated sigh and stretched his arms over his head, exposing the bottom of his toned abdomen. For a moment. He reached under his desk, pulling out a box of some cheap canned beer. He popped the tab of a can, taking a long draw and passing it to you.

You looked away from his watchful eyes as you took a sip. Your face heated as you took into account the fact you were drinking from the same can he had.

You winced. "God, that tastes like ass."

"Sorry." He laughed, taking the can from you. Warm, callused fingertips brushing against yours.

"I didn't take you for a Steel Reserve kinda guy."

"What did you take me for?"

"I don't know. Gatorade?"

"Okay." He shook his head. "No more for you."

"Wait, wait, okay, I take it back."

He held out the can for you again.

"Mhm."

"Still taste like ass?"

"It tastes like what I imagine WD-40 tastes like."

You felt your heart swell as he laughed at that. You hadn't noticed how the two of you now sat impossibly closer, thighs brushing, shoulders sending sparks whenever they met. The half-empty can of beer felt like a nervous talisman being passed back and forth between you. Dumb jokes tumbled easily from your lips, punctuated by laughter that echoed weirdly loud in the quiet room. Finals week stress had completely evaporated, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the shitty beer.

It was so easy, talking to Art. Easier than it should have been, considering you were explaining the intricacies of cellular respiration to a man who once thought mitochondria were a type of pasta. But he listened, truly listened, his eyes locked on yours. You caught yourself getting lost in their depths, a dizzying kaleidoscope that mirrored the nervousness in your stomach.

He leaned in, as if to hear you better, and you mimicked the movement unconsciously. The space between your faces shrunk, the air thick with unspoken words. His gaze did its familiar dance—right eye, lips, left eye—and this time, it lingered on your lips a beat too long.

A sudden self-consciousness washed over you. Should you pull back? This wasn't your intention. But before you could overthink it, Art's lips were hovering over yours, a question in the way they hovered, hesitant but hopeful.

"This okay?" His voice was impossibly low, breathy, quiet. His eyes raked over your features, eye contact shifting from left to right, back and forth. His hand, warm and calloused came up to cup your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

"Yeah." You breathed.

The kiss, when it came, was soft and unexpected. More of a tentative exploration than a passionate assault. It tasted of desperation and relief, of unspoken feelings finally finding a voice.

Your hands moved from your sides to toy with the curls on the back of his head, earning a barely audible groan from Art. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, his other hand moving down to pull you impossibly closer by the small of your waist. His touch was shy, tender.

After what felt like forever (and you wouldn't have minded had it been), you pulled away slowly, breathless, a blush painting your face. His eyes searched yours for some unknown answer. For a long moment, the only sound was the ragged rhythm of your breath.

A slow smile spread across his face, mirroring the one blooming on yours. "God, you're so pretty."

Leaving Art's dorm room felt like navigating a dream. Your head spun, a mix of the cheap beer and the potent aftertaste of the kiss. Your lips still tingled where his had been, a brand new sensation that sent shivers dancing down your spine. Relief, sweet and unexpected, washed over you. Months of stolen glances, late-night calls disguised as study sessions, and a simmering tension that had threatened to consume you—all of it had culminated in that single, electrifying kiss.

As you walked down the quiet hallway, a giddy smile stretched across your face. It wasn't just the kiss itself, though that replayed in your mind in a loop—hesitant, searching, then deepening with a shared sense of discovery. It was the way he'd looked at you afterwards, his eyes soft with unspoken emotions, mirroring the whirlwind in your own chest. A nervous flutter remained in your stomach, a delicious mix of excitement and uncertainty.

But beneath it all, a quiet confidence bloomed. He felt it too. This wasn't just some fleeting moment, a stolen kiss in the dead of night. It was a turning point, a bridge crossed, and the future, once shrouded in the haze of exams and unspoken feelings, now shimmered with possibility.

#art donaldson x reader #mike faist #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #mike faist imagine

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ghostbsuter · 1 year ago

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"I can see dead people." He mentions with a shrug, using the chopsticks to fish more noodles into his mouth.

Dick stares at him. "Huh."

"Is that why you help?" He asks, getting more spring rolls.

"Yeah. Once someone becomes a ghost, word gets out quick, and they come to me. Always tatling about unfairness and justice." The kid waves the words around, rolling his eyes.

Dick just pretens to he uninterested, despite his mind racing at the new info. He is piecing past moments together, every shadow leaping away, every note with tips, leads and—

Huh.

"Do you... like it? Doing all that?" Richard approaches thus carefully, brows furrowed at the kid opposite of him.

Danny moves his head, giving a 'so-so' answer. "It's not much to like, I can see ghosts, and they know it and use it. If it brings them to peace or whatever– well, that's just a plus."

Dick stares. He places his chopsticks down and looks at Danny worried.

In turn, the kid sighs. "Sometimes gifts become curses the longer you have it."

And Dick understands.

Mind made up, he throws a pair of keys at the kid, watching fondly as the other catches them with confusion.

"Next time use these, instead of entering through the window."

Danny mock-salutes with a shit eating grin. "Yes, Officer grayson."

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #dick really got a kid now huh #dick: oh wow how did you get in here #danny: *fist down a cereal box and cheeks syuffed full eith food* wdym #he annoys dick during his police hours #he doesnt even blink twice when he later catches him tyring to sneak in as nightwing #dick got the most chill kid ever #dick telling bruce of how easy danny is: :D #dick then finding out about every horrifying and downright traumatic wvent in ddannys past: D:#hes calling connie raven and black canary #for the ghosts and much needed therapy #dick abt danny: what a good kid!#dick abt danny after: oh god youre traumatsied #he's parenting so hard he should get an award #tbf danny gives him a makeshift trophy with “best officer pops.ever” in glittery pen

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localvigilante · 6 months ago

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Knights and Princesses (Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader)

One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)

A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!

The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.

Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavier’s school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didn’t mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?

But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.

The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play “Knights and Princesses” by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other than…

“Oh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!” called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.

That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. “Oh my brave knights!” you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? “Please, you must run and save yourselves!”

“Knight’s never run!” the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.

“What she said!” Kurt confirmed.

“But, my heroes, you don’t understand! There’s a fearsome dragon- and he’ll surely destroy both of you!” You paused, but nothing happened. “I said.” you repeated, far more sharp this time, “He’s sure. To destroy. Both of you!”

“Rawer.” came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.

Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragon’s costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.

Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.

"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.

The little girl yelled dramatically “The Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You won’t terrorize the princess any longer!”

" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.

“Sir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, I’ll deal with the creature!” She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.

Kurt looked up at you with a wink, “My pleasure!” and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.

“Are you ready, meine Prinzessin?” he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled “Fear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!”

That got your attention “Wait ‘throw’!?”

Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.

You only had time to scream something along the lines of ‘I’ll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagner’ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closely…and barely concealing his teasing chuckles!

“Come now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?” He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.

“You could have warned me,” you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurt’s fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. “Sir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?”

“Oh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!” you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.

“Of course, my fair damsel,” Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then “anything for you,” he added in that same low tone he used before. “You know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.”

“Is that so?” You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. “Well, my prince…” you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. “You'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!”

The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beast’s days were numbered.

You didn’t see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurt’s face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.

"Wait for me!"

...

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #deeja writes #x-men reader insert #reader insert #comic book kurt x reader #x men x reader

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ovaryacted · 2 months ago

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WISH YOU KNEW || CH. 1

─ KISS THE GIRL

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: Another mundane afternoon rolls around that quickly turns into a new beginning after Logan abruptly meets one of Wade's close friends.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. NO SMUT. Worst! Logan / Variant! Logan. Friends to lovers vibes. Mutual pining. Sexual tension. Close proximity. Flirting. Playful Banter. Kissing. Alcohol Consumption. Profanity. Logan catching feelings. Wade being an instigator. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, reader is mid to late 20s]. Reader has an established friendship w/Wade. Descriptions of reader's clothing. Mentions of other characters.

WC: 7.9K

A/N: Super excited to be posting this today, I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it despite it taking me a little while. This whole story and first part is an extensive addition to these headcanons I posted a while back. Huge thank you to @ozarkthedog for the proofread and encouragement to finish this project, and shoutout to my baby @joelsdagger for helping me with the aesthetics and vibes of this post. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART | AO3

Leaping into a new reality after everything he’d been through was far from the strangest things Logan had to experience in his incredibly long life. If anything, he was secretly appreciative to be given a second chance, a way to redeem himself from the horrors of his previous timeline and possibly live up to the expectations of his former self.

Though, he imagined things would be much more different. He thought that by now, he’d be living independently with a stable source of income outside of taking odd mercenary jobs alongside Deadpool, of all people. Crashing on the couch of the culprit that brought him into this mess was far from what he wanted, but getting adjusted to this new way of living was taking much longer than he anticipated.

Wade whistled to himself as he stayed busy in the kitchen. Still dressed in his pjs, the pink kiss-the-cook apron was neatly tied around his waist, paired with an obnoxiously crisp chef’s hat. He poured some batter into a flat pan, watching it puff up and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he flipped the pancake, ensuring the edges didn’t burn.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, usually full of playing reruns on the TV and sleeping off the previous night of copious whiskey drinking. The alternative was dealing with Wade’s get-togethers, where his friends stopped by for game night. Logan could, in theory, stay behind and beat everyone at the table in a good game of poker, but having so many individuals in the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was already sharing with two other people and a dog could be overstimulating.

The doorbell ringing disrupted the rarely calm atmosphere, sending the hairs on Logan’s nape to rise. He didn’t think it could be Blind Al coming back home so soon unless her daily walk was cut short. Wade made quick work of the pancakes in the current stack, setting them to the side and striding into the entryway to look through the peephole. Squealing to himself, he gave the grumpy man on the couch one more glance as a warning to behave and swung the door open to let an unknown figure come into view.

In walks a new stranger, someone Logan hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting personally. He was presented to Wade’s inner circle once he was brought into this world, surprised at the diverse group of people who tolerated his behavior longer than he had. Your face was refreshing compared to who he usually saw, and your abrupt entrance captivated him.

He diligently observed how you rummaged through the kitchen, tearing open the overhead cabinets and searching for something he couldn’t quite decipher under your mumbles. You have yet to sense an additional presence in the apartment, and you’re too busy in your quest to take a peek at the couch.

“Where the hell did you put my wine, Wade? I told you to hold it for me, not pop it open.” Your voice cut through the room, hitting Logan’s discerning ears. As strange as it was, he thought the pitch of your voice suited you, or at least what he suspected would closely resemble it.

“Well, happy Sunday to you too, honey bunches. Are you looking for it? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Blind Al drank all of it,” he joked with a devilish grin. There he was again, jerking someone’s chain when given the chance, and yet Logan found himself curious about your dynamic with his roommate.

“Since when did Althea drink wine? I swear if you opened my rosé without telling me, I’m never bringing you anything again,” you playfully threatened as the corner of your lips curled up in a smirk.

A righteous aha! came from you as the bottle manifested in your hand, smiling widely at your successful find. You turned around, spotting Wade in his apron before your eyes moved further to the right, noticing the aged man for the first time since you barged into the apartment. He could see how your pupils dilated at taking him in, the cogs turning in your head as you tried to figure out who he was and his association with Wade.

“Who’s the big guy?” You jutted your chin toward the mutant, forcing Wade to take the initiative to bridge the introduction between you two.

“Ah, him. Yeah, that’s Logan, the Wolverine. Kinda resurrected him as Marvel Jesus and brought him from his timeline into ours after saving the world. Now we’re happily married with a kid,” Wade said with full confidence, another one of his meddling tactics.

“Oh, oh. This is Logan?” You tilted your head to study the man in question, all while he fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Has Wade mentioned him to you before? “So you two are…”

“No, no we’re not,” Logan finally spoke, quickly rising from the couch to end the dubious dialogue. A pout formed on Wade’s face at his friend’s intrusion, no longer feeding into the delusion that they were somehow more than cohabitants.

“Don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m crashing on the couch since your friend brought me here.” Somehow after the brief explanation of how he got here, it sounded even worse coming from Logan’s mouth.

“Peanut, do not embarrass me right now. I know you’re shy about our true love, but sugarplum here is very much an ally,” Wade lifted a finger at him, more comical than the overall discussion, as Logan sighed in annoyance. He figured he might as well introduce himself properly since he’s gotten this far.

“Logan,” he opened his palm to offer a handshake, catching your name grace your lips as you clasped your hand over his. The squeeze you gave him was reassuring, and he reciprocated in kind, holding your gaze and drawing his hand away.

“I’m guessing how you got here is a long story?” Your eyes dashed to Logan in interest, sparing him the embarrassment of denying the initial claims your mutual friend made without his knowledge.

“Very long.” Before Logan could smack his hand over Wade’s mouth, he closed his eyes, waiting for the raunchy commentary soon to follow.

“That’s what she said!” Wade clapped his hands, receiving a groan from the older man and a chuckle from you.

“You’ll have to tell me about it some time then. I’ll never understand Wade’s quests, all he talks about is who he kills and how much fun he has doing it.”

“Honey, the complexities of the space-time continuum are way too extreme to explain in one sitting. I’m going to need a podcast and a projector to elaborate on it,” while Wade kept responding to you, Logan observed the exchanges between you two, making mental notes as he read your body language.

“I think you’re banned from the tech stores within the tri-state area, but maybe you can try Amazon,” you offered him, the same lively smile popping up once again. “The new season of Love Island USA drops this weekend. Are we still on for our watch party?”

“You must be fucking crazy if you think I will miss this premiere,” he beamed at you, mimicking your expression of delight.

“Then I’ll bring some of those sweet ‘n salty pretzels you and Althea like next time I stop by,” you announced, kissing Wade’s wrinkly cheek to honor the words threaded onto his apron. Your hand hovered over the front door handle, meeting hazel eyes to the right. “I hope to see you around Logan.”

One final glimpse at them, and you were out the door, the silhouette of your shadow no longer in the older mutant’s peripheral. Wade returned to the kitchen to continue cooking his late breakfast, putting strawberries and maple syrup on a stack of chocolate pancakes and cutting into the sweetened heap.

“Is she another one of your friends?” Logan asked, his encounter with a new face birthed a sense of novelty that flickered in his mind.

“Mhm. Met her at a grocery store when I was finding something for Blind Al and kept bumping into her throughout the city. We just became friends, plus Althea loves her, probably because she’s always bringing her sweet treats,” Wade answered casually, his mouth half stuffed with the pancakes he bit into.

“Hmm. So I should be worried about seeing more people entering this apartment?”

“She comes for our religious reality TV and movie nights. It’s no biggy, she’s like everyone else I know. Think of me, but with a brain, and maybe not with the whole ‘immortal’ thing I got going on here,” he clarified, the thought of having to deal with anyone remotely similar to Wade filled Logan with inexplicable anxiety. Yet, all he did was shake his head and cross his arms across his chest.

“Great, the more the merrier.”

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, you could actually have friends in this world, or even get laid. But instead, you’re too hellbent on being a grouch,” Wade replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe I’d have friends and get laid if people didn’t think we were fucking all the time,” Logan reacted defiantly, grabbing hold of Mary Puppins and attaching the leash to her collar, getting ready to take her out on a walk around the neighborhood.

“Live in your truth, Wolvie. Be who you are!” Wade exclaimed again, ignoring Logan’s curses as he stepped through the front door to get some fresh air.

Logan held on to the leash with one hand as he walked down the block with Dogpool, taking in the acquainted streets and ignoring the looks that came his way. Thankfully, after being in Wade’s world for a while, the stares have transitioned from hate to mere tolerance, aiding his adjustment. As he turned the corner, his intrigue spiked as he thought more of his brief interaction with you, another of Wade’s friends who will inevitably return for a visit.

Who are you?

Sticking to Wade’s words, you stopped by the apartment more than Logan expected. You’d come by and drop off some dinner and pastry dishes bought on your way home from work when you had the chance, and you shared what you got with Wade and Blind Al. For the most part, you made delivery stops to Wade’s place once every other week, walking into the space with a couple of pans of food and placing it on the nearest kitchen counter. You’d stay for a few minutes talking to either Wade or Althea, giving each of them a friendly kiss on the cheek or the top of their head before heading home.

Logan wouldn’t always be around when you visited the other two, missing you by a few minutes when he would be fulfilling a job or out and about. Still, when he was home, he’d be in the background observing you, talking to everyone while keeping himself at arm’s length. You supposed he had the whole grumpy, mysterious vibe that made him tough to approach. So, instead, you’d offer him a cordial wave and a mutter of his name, at least something that acknowledges him when he was in the same space as you.

Week by week, your face became a regular thing for Logan, mainly on Saturdays when you joined Wade in watching whatever current reality TV show was occupying your attention. The brutish man would be on his way to the local bar when you rang the doorbell, dressed in some comfy loungewear and your tote bag full of snacks.

Logan made it a habit not to intrude on your time with Wade. He was already with him for most of the day, the least he could do was respect your time when granted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wondering what you were like outside of being friends with his companion.

Eventually, he got his moment.

A Thursday afternoon rolled around when Logan came home from the gym to an empty apartment, a rare occurrence he planned to relish. A note on the fridge from Wade mentioned he was out with Big Al and Mary Puppins doing God knows what, not that he wanted to know nor ask. He took a shower to rinse off the grime from his workout, threw on a ribbed tank and sweats, and headed to the kitchen for a cold beer. Popping the bottle cap off, he managed to take one sip before the front doorbell rang, his eyes squinting at the entrance and internally sighing as his moment of tranquility was interrupted.

Leaving the bottle on the counter and opening the door, he was surprised to find you on the other side of the threshold with a covered tin foil pan, no doubt containing something edible. You were still in your work clothes: a pencil skirt and button-down shirt on your body with heels to match, your purse hanging off one of your shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Logan. Came to drop this stuff off for Wade. Do you mind?”

“Nah, ain’t a problem,” Logan shifted to the side to grant you entry, eyeing the back of your head as you wandered past him and into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing Wade and Al are out?” you asked the man as you handled your business, inserting the tin pan into the fridge and closing it with your hip.

“Yeah. Probably doing something I shouldn’t worry about.” You laughed at that, a light sound that he preserved in the imprints of his consciousness.

“Let’s hope they don’t bring back some cocaine. Lord knows the last thing that lady needs is a sniff of powder.” It was Logan’s turn to chuckle, the rumble of a hum you considered equivalent to a laugh.

“So it’s just you in here?” you said as you placed your work bag on the nearest surface, an attempt to rest your arm from lugging the extra weight around.

“Just me,” his broad shoulders lifted and dropped as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “They’ll be back in a bit. You can wait for them if you want, and I can head out.”

“You don’t need to do that. Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” you raised an eyebrow at him as his features softened at your inquiry.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the right word,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again, the muscles in his biceps tightening as he did so. “You and Wade, you’re close, were close before I got here. Not trying to bother what you two have going on.”

You hummed then, standing straight on one leg and entering a more relaxed stance. Logan could tell by your body language that you weren’t disturbed or intimidated by him, which he assumed was a good sign.

“Sure, I’ve known Wade and Al for a while, but I don’t mind having you around. You’re a little hard to talk to. Figured you were one of those types who liked to brood in silence, at least from what Wade told me.”

“What exactly did he tell you about me?” Logan contested, looking directly at you when he could.

“Do you want to hear the pg-13 or the explicit version? He had a lot to say. Not sure you’d be too happy about it, though,” Logan’s lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Knowing Wade, he probably said more than enough, and everything under the sun that wasn’t true.

“Fucker has a big mouth,” he almost took back what he said until he caught your nod of agreement, easing him a bit.

“He doesn’t know when to stop talking, but I can’t hate him for it. He’s just…honest, maybe a little too honest,” you claimed. “If you’re that worried about what he said, I didn’t take any of it literally. You’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

Logan’s sight bounced to you, curiosity laced in your stare as you glanced at him. For a moment, he was taking another read at you again, debating if you were as trustworthy as Wade makes you seem. He sensed your heartbeat and the steady pulse at your neck, even in pace, without a singular beat missing in rhythm. You were already here, and he reasoned he’d have to get used to all of Wade’s acquaintances sooner or later. Why not add you to the mix?

“Guess so,” his lips slightly turned upwards as his focus remained on you, deeming it acceptable to quit hiding in the background. A beat of silence filled the kitchen, one watching the other and your eyes unmoving from Logan’s face. For a split second, your pulse spiked with an intake of breath and releasing it, shaking you out of the sudden trance.

“I gotta go, but tell the deadly duo that there’s tiramisu in the fridge. You can take a piece too, I know they can be stingy,” you grabbed your work bag and threw it over your shoulder again, heading for the front door and offering Logan one last smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

There you were, out the door again and off to your place with only the conversation you shared and the tiramisu you brought as proof of your presence. Logan huffed a breath and reached for the beer bottle sitting on the counter, making his way to the couch. He plopped down, sipping away at the lukewarm beverage and throwing his head back along the edge, staring at the ceiling with your words playing on loop in the space between his ears.

Don’t be a stranger.

He tries to deny the slight tug of warmth fluttering in his chest, manifesting into an exhale and a shake of his head, followed by another sip of his drink to wash it down.

He makes sure he won’t be.

Integrating Logan into your established dynamic with Wade and Althea was seemingly effortless. You didn’t make a big fuss about forcing him into joining the weekly TV binging when he was home, but it was nice to hear more of your voice directed at him occasionally. Whenever you stopped by Wade’s place with baked pastries or dishes, Logan hovered in the backdrop, returning your gestures when you threw one his way.

He liked having you around, not to mention the food you dropped off would fill him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Once, you handed Wade these red velvet cookies Althea liked from a downtown bakery. Logan side-eyed them munching away at the baked goods, silently judging them for satisfying their sweet tooth to such an extent. His facade was maintained until the middle of the night when Wade and Al were asleep in the bedroom, walking on muted footsteps to finish the rest of the cookies in the pan. He goes back to playing the part of being the nonchalant roommate once the sun rises, pretending to be shocked when Wade starts pointing fingers and gets into a blaming match with the blind woman he shares a bed with.

It was a matter of time before you offered more than just food, keeping the newest member of your friendly circle in mind the next time you decided what to bring to the household. There was a double knock on the door, and Wade was on the other end, waiting for you with girlish excitement.

“Hey, Wadey. Hi Althea,” you wiggled your fingers at the elderly woman. Dropping the pans on the dinner table, everyone gathered around the middle of the apartment, anxiously lingering to see what you had brought.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all fucking week,” Wade approved happily, nudging you by the shoulder. “Show daddy the goods! Come to papa.”

You giggled and unwrapped two tin containers, unveiling baked lasagna and penne a la vodka. You could practically hear everyone’s stomach rumbling at the collective awe of the food in front of them, still warm to the touch as the scent of the meal wafted through the apartment.

“Thought Italian would be good, so I called this restaurant a while ago to set some dishes aside for pick-up. Got devil’s food cake too, I hope you’re in the mood for chocolate,” you voiced, smacking Wade’s hand away that threatened to dip into the pasta.

“Honestly, I think we should get married. You don’t even have to see me at all. As long as you bring me food like this, I’ll give you one kill a week.” Wade’s proposal made you smirk. Though it was tempting, you knew better than to get associated with the mess of his job.

“Don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you gestured to Logan, who rolled his eyes. “I did bring something for the grump, too. Consider it a very late welcome to this world gift.”

He watched as you handed him a paper bag, your fingers wrapping around what appeared to be the neck of a bottle. Logan held the familiar weight in his large hands, peeling back the bag to drag out a nicely sized whiskey bottle, Johnnie Walker, to be exact.

He didn’t realize how high his eyebrows raised at receiving a gift, much less something from you. The food containers did get bigger after Wade complained about somebody eating everything after 24 hours. But knowing you were somehow thinking about him revived that pulse in his chest.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, russet irises focused in your direction. “Really, this is nice.”

“It’s the least I could do since I’m always coming over here,” you said, appreciating Logan’s kindness and mirroring his grateful expression.

There it was again, the beat of silence that entranced the both of you when you entered the same room. The space between Logan’s ribs ached, a strange and unnerving thumping that carried a wave of unfamiliarity.

“Are we going to fucking eat or what?” Blind Al muttered out loud, disrupting the moment you shared with Logan.

“Aht aht, being greedy isn’t nice, Althea. I’m still pissed you ate the corner piece of the brownies I called dibs on last week,” Wade squinted his eyes as he blamed the elderly woman for a crime she didn’t commit. That was, in fact, Logan.

“Motherfucker, if we stand here any longer, the lasagna will get cold,” Althea criticized, the two bickering amongst themselves beside you. You shake your head in disbelief, going to the kitchen to grab some plates, with Logan following behind to help you bring the utensils and cups.

“You want to stay a while?” The suggestion tumbled out of him without thinking, anxious that he had just shot himself in the foot. When your smile reappeared, his worries passed.

“Yeah, I got time,” you held a few plates, heading to the dinner table to join the others in fighting over the pieces of lasagna.

Logan reached other milestones in your bond over the upcoming weeks when you invited them to dinner at your apartment to celebrate your recent job promotion. He didn’t know why he stressed about which shirt to wear or how to style his hair, wanting to put some effort into his appearance this time. Deciding on a red flannel and a leather jacket, he didn’t say a word when Wade was messing around with wigs to wear for the evening.

After a few threats of slicing Wade’s head off if he didn’t hurry the fuck up, they were on their way to your place. An 8-minute walk around the neighborhood and a buzz of the intercom later, you happily greeted the two men at the front door. Stepping aside to let them both pass, you briefly eyed the breadth of Logan’s back flexing under his jacket as he trekked inside, closing the door behind them.

“Al didn’t come along?” you questioned, half expecting the elderly woman to join you.

“Nope, she’s fast asleep. You know how old people are, strict curfews and powdery smells,” Wade quipped, glancing around the table to see what you had prepared.

“Surprised you don’t have a wig on right now,” you lightly jested, straightening the collar of Wade’s polo and approving of his outfit choice.

“I was deciding between a short bob and a tapered fade when Logan threatened to tear me limb from limb. I think that’s his way of flirting.”

At the mention of the other male, your gaze landed on him as he surveyed his surroundings. Your apartment was nice, small yes, but homey, just enough for one person. The living room consisted of your TV and a plush couch, a colorful blanket thrown over its edge, and a leather armchair beside the windows draped in sheer curtains. Two sets of bookshelves rested on the walls closest to the entryway, a collection of books and knick-knacks filled the shelves, a mix of genres from thrillers to romance to fantasy. He took in the setting of your space one last time before pivoting to face you.

“Sorry, Wilson, but you’re not my type,” Logan replied, his hands digging into the pocket of his jeans.

“He’s in denial and emotionally constipated. Don’t worry, Wolvie. I will wait for you forever, as long as you return home to me.” Logan ignored him, mumbling a quiet shut the fuck up under his breath.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, and Logan used it as an opportunity to learn more about you. Through conversing with Wade, he discovered you work at a media studio further downtown. Initially, you were just a journalist pitching stories that would sometimes be published or given the spotlight. Your promotion now makes you the head of your department, giving you more creative control over the stories you want to be told, something you’ve worked hard to get. In your own words, you were happy that bitch Janice at your office didn’t get the role, and now she will have to deal with you being her superior.

Logan liked how you smiled from ear to ear after being so accomplished, and when he mentioned he was glad it worked out, the way your face lit up wasn’t overlooked.

Munching into the lamb chop you cooked for tonight, Wade retells the stories of the recent mercenary jobs he’s completed with Logan by his side, throwing innuendos and graphic details of his missions between every couple of sentences. You listened to him talk, drinking your wine and resting your chin on your hand, nodding and providing commentary when needed.

At some points in the conversation, Logan would jump in when Wade allowed him to, roping him in to tell you about the cool shit he can do with his claws. Your eyes sparkled at Logan’s words, hanging on to whatever came out of him and holding it close as if it would be the last time you’d hear him speak. He couldn’t bring himself to deny that having your attention on him felt good, and when he let Wade control the dialogue again, his eyes would stay on you for a second longer, sipping on the beer you saved for him.

He hopes you didn’t notice.

Other times, Logan joined you and Wade on the couch for reality TV and movie nights, something he figured would help him become more of a social butterfly. Though he didn’t always understand the current events of 90 Day Fiancé or Love Island USA, you didn’t mind catching him up on the episode that played despite Wade itching to give out spoiler warnings.

You’d be situated between them on the small couch, the popcorn bowl on your lap, and sharing it with Wade, who wore his patterned PJs. Although Logan was relatively quiet while you watched the TV screen, you’d let him take a handful of popcorn, washing it down with a drink to enjoy a somewhat tasteful combination.

What he didn’t expect from you was how welcoming you were of his touch. Of course, given that the couch wasn’t that large, you’d be hip to hip with Logan and Wade on either side of you. The larger man did his best to stay in his corner of the couch and to manspread less to give you space, but you stayed close to him.

Maybe too close.

One night, his arm slipped from its perch on the edge of the couch, dropping on your shoulder and causing you to jolt from the sudden contact.

“Shit, my bad,” he was fast to mutter an apology, but you were just as quick to shake your head, quelling his worries.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, really.” You were permitting him to leave his arm on your shoulders, and he wasn’t going to say no to that, the heavy bulk of muscle making a new home over the width of your back.

The fleeting touches persisted when you watched Australia for Wade’s sake, suddenly growing fascinated with the main male character and proclaiming Logan somehow favored him. He grumbled, zoning out of the movie and not realizing Wade had fallen asleep within the first hour. It was just you and him for a while until you also dozed off near the two-hour mark, still with 45 minutes left.

Logan had lost track of the plot within the first 30 minutes, so he no longer cared for the film. He focused on your torso, slowly leaning into his body on the couch, gravitating toward his warmth. Instinctively, he moved his arm on your shoulder, bringing you closer so you were flush with his chest, snuggling against the stability of his figure.

Logan swears he could hear a happy hum fall from your lips in the form of a sigh, getting more than comfortable against the man who had become a new addition to your life. If you were awake, he was sure you could hear how hard his heart was beating inside of him, providing a comforting squeeze to your arm to signal he was still here with you.

For the next little while, he’ll enjoy his current position without qualms, and he can imagine just for a second that this was a part of your usual interactions. This is as close as he’s going to get anyway.

“You like her.” Wade’s voice filtered through the static noise of Logan’s channel surfing, settling on a Tom and Jerry episode that played in the background, his head twisting to scrutinize the pain in the ass he called a roommate.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know,” he grinned mischievously, “Honey bunches, you have the hots for her.”

The neurons in Logan’s brain fired at rapid speed as he comprehended what his friend was insinuating. Sure, he liked having you around and looked forward to when you stopped by every week to sit on the couch. He ignores how you smell or breathe next to him or how you don’t mind when his arm is on your shoulder. He doesn’t care that you inch the slightest bit closer to him, hip to hip, eyes still on the screen during movie nights. He dismisses how you look at him, how you smile when he’s in your space, and how his heart skips a beat when it happens.

“No, I don’t." He knew he was lying.

“Really?” Wade’s Cheshire smile broadened, dissecting Logan by the minute. “You sure, Logan? Are you sure your stone-cold skeleton doesn’t melt when you graze your fingers together?”

“What is this? Couple’s therapy? Shut the fuck up and drop it.” Logan’s mask was cracking the more Wade badgered him about his suppressed emotions, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the truth from his friend or himself.

“Oh shit…Wolvie, you’re in denial. Are you scared of rejection?” Wade covered his mouth in faux shock, taking Logan’s deep scowl with pride as he hit a nerve. “It’s alright, Casanova, no need to be worried about your unrequited love life. I’ve watched enough episodes of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette to put romancers to shame. I will make this happen.”

“Wade. Drop it.” The threat came out with a paired growl, the mutant’s fingers curling into a tight fist as the skin of his knuckles split to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“This is now a telenovela baby. Just imagine how much we’d make with you two as the leads. ‘Loving the Wolverine.’ The title is a work in progress, but we’ll revisit that later.”

“Wilson.” Logan’s nostrils flared, the metal claws fully out with a sharp schling. The vein in his forehead bulged as his blood pressure skyrocketed from his anger, ready to slice the man any second now.

“You can be angry all you want, but feelings are feelings. And if you don’t say something soon, I fucking will!” The apartment filled with a loud squeal as Logan pierced Wade’s thigh with one hand, the other aiming for his torso, puncturing him through his hoodie.

As pissed as Logan wanted to be towards Wade, he knew he was right. Whatever sentiments had developed between you and him were undefined, and he hated himself for believing there was a chance it could be anything beyond friendly. You were younger than him, a given anyway, with an established life he didn’t want to ruin or get too involved with. Why would you choose him when you could have anyone else?

It wouldn’t work, not in his book. As Logan continued to puncture Wade’s body like a voodoo doll in the name of stress relief, he still had a hard time ignoring how he felt. He doesn’t think he will anytime soon.

His inner turmoil peaked when Wade hosted another get-together at the apartment, and of course, he invited you. He mentioned this would be a chance to set you guys up, and Logan tried his hardest not to shove his claws into his head or ruin the vibe before the party started.

The people closest to the host bustled into the apartment the following Friday night, along with the few new additions brought back from the void. Logan was entertained by talking to Laura and watched the entryway every few minutes to see when you’d walk through it. The time couldn’t come soon enough, the familiar notes of your scent hit his nose the second Wade opened the front door to let you inside, showing the assortment of alcohol bottles you brought to make cosmopolitans.

From where he sat on the couch, he studied your appearance. He raked his eyes over the casual jeans that hugged your thighs and the low neckline of your top, the jewelry adorning your neck brought more than enough attention to the dip of your collarbones.

Logan must’ve been starting too hard when you caught him in the act, your mouth bending up when you noticed him. Without a word, he only smiled at you, drinking his beer to wash down the incessant pounding in his body.

You busied yourself with making drinks in the kitchen, periodically darting to watch Logan while he mingled as much as his social battery allowed. You chatted with the other partygoers, catching up with Vanessa to ask how things were going with Wade and talking to the bubbly Yukio, who stood beside her girlfriend as you joined in teasing the host for the party hat on his head.

Everyone eventually had a red solo cup in their hand, uttering their thanks to you as the influx of a new alcoholic thirst quencher streamed through their bodies. The space to the right of Logan was empty after Laura rose to steal more chips from the dinner table. You took your chance, having a plastic cup in one hand as you strolled over to the gentleman sitting comfortably on the couch.

“That seat taken?” you asked, the bister eyes you’ve come to adore ran over your features, glinting slightly under the hanging light above.

“It’s free now,” Logan jerked his head to gesture you to sit beside him, the smell of your perfume hitting his senses when you walked past him. He swallowed his beer again, hoping it would help curb his growing urges.

“Avoiding me, huh?” The lively tone of your voice conveyed something he couldn’t precisely define despite it making him nervous. “Didn’t get up to say hi or anything…”

“You were busy making drinks for everybody, wanted to have you focused. Don’t want anyone to get alcohol poisoning from fucked up proportions.” You chuckled at his words, rolling your eyes and spinning the ice in your cup.

“Surprised you’re even here. Did Wade force you to stay around this time?”

Yes, he did. That was what he wanted to say, but one glance at your face, and he couldn’t be mad that he listened to the bastard for once.

“Decided to be a little social,” he answered calmly, the tip of his bottle lined up with his lips.

“You? Social? That’s a first.”

“Are you complaining, bub?” he remarked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing attitude.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head, giddy in anticipation of what qualified as “social” for the man next to you. “Nothing wrong with trying new things.”

The world tuned out as you conversed with the older mutant, taking every word in stride. Believe it or not, Logan could talk for a while if you ignore the curse words he adds every other sentence. Still, it was nice to just talk to him, even if your sight wandered. On your second cosmo and probably Logan’s fourth beer, the distance between you on the couch closed with each shift of your hips, leaning into the back of the couch and facing him while he rested against the length of it.

With each passing word from Logan, you watched his jaw flex and his lips part as he spoke—counting the wrinkles of skin beside the slight hints of gray at his temples. You took another sip of your mixed drink, discreetly running your eyes down the column of his throat and his collarbone, peering at the coarse hair that peeked from his flannel’s first two undone buttons.

You didn’t know if he could read the signs of your desires or sense the palpable tension brewing in the air, but you remained willfully ignorant. Oblivious to you, the notion was reciprocated when you spoke, rambling about stuff with your job to bits and pieces of your childhood. Logan’s eyes never left your face, landing on the shimmer of your glossy lips or the pendant that dangled on your chest when you weren’t looking.

In the next breath, the topic changed to something concerning Wade’s most embarrassing instances and jokes that would only come from him. Logan must’ve said something right when you broke out in a fit of laughter, deep and hearty, as it came straight from your stomach and emitted through your chest. He didn’t say anything to disturb your moment, commemorating your eyes scrunching up and your mouth opening wide to laugh harder. He didn’t jolt when you smacked his sternum a few times, the warmth of your touch radiating through the layers of his clothes.

He craved more of it.

“I think you’re spending too much time with Wade. He’s rubbing off on you,” you calmed down from your laughing fit and wiped the tears that threatened to spill.

“Maybe. Gotta tolerate the guy,” Logan was carefree as he spoke despite the stirring emotions.

Your hand was still on his chest, resting comfortably on his body. You didn’t move it as quickly as you should, nor would Logan tell you to take it away. Grazing your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, you whizzed lowly to yourself, the alcohol pumping through your body, loosening your inhibitions as you continued to touch him.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, you pulled your hand away, looking over his shoulder to see Peter showing off the chain that connected his nipples to whatever was underneath his pants. Downing the rest of your beverage, you placed the cup on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. It’s getting late anyway.” The nagging voice in your head pressed a question you wanted to admit, an invitation you knew wouldn’t work if asked incorrectly. Thankfully, you didn’t need to speak out loud.

“Let me walk you home,” Logan suggested through the racket, firm and determined in his proposition. “Could use the fresh air if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t need much effort to say yes.

“Sure.” You rose from the couch to say goodbye to everyone, giving kisses on the cheek and hugs when warranted, your last stop being Wade. He looked between you and Logan, throwing the older man a thumbs up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Side by side, you walked down the block, Logan keeping you on the opposite side of the street and serving as a barrier between you and the road. He didn’t reach out for your hand despite the urge to hold you steady, nor did you hold on to his bicep as you strode beside him. But you both talked on your joint stroll, confessing things amongst yourselves that would otherwise be omitted by all the noise.

He followed you through the lobby of your apartment complex, up the flights of stairs that dropped you off on the second floor to your front door. He remained vigilant, standing behind your figure as you inserted your key into the lock, guarding you until your door opened and looming as you spun to face him again.

“Thank you for walking me. It was nice,” you expressed, the cosmopolitans you consumed earlier heightened the glassiness in your eyes.

“Ain’t a problem. It was good to get off the couch,” his hands went to his pockets. “You gonna be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m a big girl. I can handle a little alcohol,” you snorted, the sound bringing a grin to his face.

As your hazy vision landed on him, he felt the pull in his chest again, the one that comes when time and space stop moving in that beat of silence shared only between you two. He sensed the change in your demeanor, the increased pumping of your heart, and the rush of your blood flowing faster.

Logan halted his breathing when you stepped forward. You preemptively set a hand on his chest and tipped upwards to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“Really, thank you, Logan.” Your serene voice was muted when you said his name, sweet on your tongue that drew him in like a siren’s song. He’d do anything to hear you say it like that again, and again, and again.

“Any time,” you held his gaze, eyes going from his tawny pupils to the tip of his nose and plush lips. He was right there, right in front of you, and the only thing you had in mind was to get a proper feel of him.

There was a jolt of hesitation, taking a step back to get more space between you until you felt the heavy weight of Logan’s palm reaching for your hip. He kept you in place, squeezing your frame and curling his hand to your lower back. Your heart hammered in your ribcage, glimpsing up at him one more time as his head tilted towards you, the only signal you needed to get what you both yearned for.

Your lips landed on his, soft and gentle, testing his reaction. Logan didn’t let you venture too far from him, holding you close and kissing you more fervently, opening his mouth to make room for your tongue as it traced his bottom lip. The groan that reverberated deep within him grew louder when your hands went up to drive through his hair, changing your position to have your back against the entryway of your apartment.

You whimpered when he squeezed your waist, a sound that would haunt his dreams for the next upcoming nights, causing him to push further against you. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his flannel, seeking more of him than you could reach. The metal of his belt buckle pressed into your lower stomach, a faint moan tumbling out of your mouth that Logan hungrily swallowed.

“Do you want to come inside?” you breathlessly invited him as you pulled away, face heated to the touch and body thrumming with a need you didn’t expect. He could read your reactions, almost smell your arousal in the air, but the last thing he wanted to do was fall into the pattern he was familiar with when it came to partners. You deserved better than that, better than just a fun night, even if that’s what you wanted.

“I want to, I do,” Logan tried to say, already noticing your look of disappointment at his upcoming rejection. “But, maybe we can try this again when you don’t taste like fucking vodka and cranberries?” You laughed a bit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, relishing the tingling sensation left behind from his kisses.

“Thought you didn’t mind alcohol?”

“Vodka isn’t my favorite. More of a dark liquor kind of guy.” Even as he spoke to you, his hands stayed on your body, a reassuring weight you didn’t want to leave your midriff.

“Then you can make it up to me with dinner. That sounds good?” You were cheeky in your response, refusing to let the prospect pass you by, and Logan wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he warmed at your proposal and accepted one more kiss as he let you part from him.

“I’ll see you around, Logan.”

It was the last thing you said to him before you closed your front door, leaving him in the hallway to deal with the feelings washing over him. He could still discern your heart beating on the other side of the door, probably grounding your breathing and walking further into your apartment. His eyes fell to his feet, mind running a mile a minute and exhaling, deciding to take the longer way home back to Wade and Blind Al.

The apartment was empty when he came back. Althea had fallen asleep in bed, and Wade was busy cleaning up the leftover mess in the dining room. The lopsided party hat was still on his head, brown eyes scanning Logan’s features and analyzing him.

“Well, that was fast. Thought you’d last a bit longer, peanut,” Wade mocked with a grin, detecting the leftover gloss on Logan’s lips and a spot on his face. “I’m guessing Cupid was successful tonight?”

“Not another word,” Logan was back to his prickly mood, murmuring under his breath that he was going to the bathroom to take a piss, locking the door behind him.

He looked in the mirror and noticed the faint shimmer of your lip gloss still on his features, leaving your mark on him without realizing it. He chuckled, smirked wide to himself, and privately enjoyed the remnants of your touch.

He’ll make a note to pick places to take you out in the morning. For now, he’ll appreciate this feeling for as long as possible.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #logan xmen #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #ovaryacted fic series: wish you knew #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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cjayius · 8 months ago

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INTO IT — LEE HEESEUNG

SYNOPSIS. you have always hated heeseung. unfortunately, he's a world famous racer, and you're his team manager. but when he crashes during a race, you're met with feelings for him that you don't quite recognize.

pairing. racer!heeseung x f!reader wc. 0.52k tw. mentions of hee crashing , hugging genre. fluff , e2l (?) ( CATALOGUE )

as you both step out into the bustling racing area, you can feel the tension in the air. the pitwall is abuzz with activity as you and heeseung stand among the important figures of the racing team.

arguments aren't uncommon between the two of you, and today is no exception.

heeseung's frustration is palpable, his jaw set firmly as he glares at you, hands clenched into fists at his sides. " you can't be serious about this, " you retort, your voice edged with exasperation, arms defiantly crossed over your chest.

" you're taking unnecessary risks out there, heeseung. " his response is sharp, a scoff escaping his lips as he steps closer, his face mere inches from yours.

" i know what i'm doing, okay ? stop treating me like i'm some rookie driver who needs babysitting. "

your eyes narrow at him, anger flashing through them. " you're being reckless, heeseung. i won't stand by and watch you put yourself in danger. you're not doing it. "

with a dismissive wave of his hand, heeseung turns away, stomping toward his car, jaw clenched. you watch him go, a knot of anger only tightening in your chest as he climbs into the vehicle, movements tense and aggressive.

as heeseung's car speeds around the track, you can't help but feel a sense of anxiety. despite your frustration with him, you can't shake the worry that gnaws at you as you watch him twist around the course.

suddenly, a collective gasp ripples through the crowd as his car swerves abruptly, crashing into the barriers with a sickening thud.

your heart leaps into your throat as panic courses through you, hands gripping the edge of the pitwall with a force so strong you could have broken it. frantically, you reach for the radio, voice trembling as you call out, " heeseung, are you okay ? answer me, please ! "

no response.

" heeseung, please ! " but there's no response, and dread settles heavily in the pit of your stomach and you watch, helpless, as the race officials rush to the scene. time seems to stand still as you wait for any sign of movement from his car.

your mind was already racing with the worst-case scenarios.

finally, relief floods through you as you see him emerge from the wreckage, seemingly unscathed. but any relief is quickly replaced by anger as you realize he's smirking, reveling in the worry he's caused you.

storming towards him, your frustration boils over as you slap his chest. " what the hell were you thinking ? do you have any idea how worried i was ? you could've gotten seriously hurt ! "

his smirk falters, but before he can respond, your anger melts away, and without thinking, you wrap your arms tightly around him, pulling him into a hug.

for a moment, there's a stunned silence between you, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. heeseung's surprise quickly gives way to a soft chuckle as he returns the embrace, his arms enveloping you.

" i'm okay, stop worrying so much. " he hums into the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms tighter around your figure.

for a moment, the world falls away, but then reality comes crashing back, and you hastily pull away, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you remember that you're supposed to hate each other.

clearing your throat awkwardly, you take a step back, avoiding heeseung's gaze as you try to compose yourself. " well, um, i'm glad you're okay, " you mutter, voice betraying you as you let out a shaky breath.

he watches with amusement, as you rush away from him, cheeks flushed. he was going to get you to say it.

taglist : @so-lychee @mellowdyverse @bambisnc

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #park jongseong #nishimura riki #park sunghoon #park jay #kim sunoo #enhypen smau #sim jaeyun #yang jungwon #heeseung smau #enhypen imagines

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imloyaltoscoups · 7 months ago

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truth or dare | kim mingyu

You and Mingyu are chilling in the living room when he suddenly remarks, "Man, this show is getting kind of boring, don't you think?" You glance over at him, noticing his slight frown as he flicks through the channels with the remote. "Yeah, it's losing its charm," you agree, leaning back into the couch. "Want to switch to something else or do you have any other ideas?" he said.

You shoot Mingyu a mischievous grin, your mind buzzing with an idea, but you hesitate for a moment, debating whether to share it or keep it to yourself. With a playful glint in your eye, you lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "I've got an idea that might just spice things up a bit. But you've got to promise not to laugh..."

Mingyu's eyes light up with curiosity as he leans in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, creating a charged atmosphere between you. "Come on, spill it," he murmurs, his voice low and eager. "Is it something naughty? Knowing you, it's bound to be interesting." He flashes you a playful smirk, his breath warm against your skin, waiting for your response.

You push him away with a light shove, though he chuckles in response, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "Hey now, don't be shy," he teases, his laughter bubbling up.

You roll your eyes, a smirk dancing on your lips. "I just want to play truth or dare to deepen our friendship," you say, trying to sound serious but failing as a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a smirk mirroring yours. "Deepen our friendship, huh?" he mocks, his tone teasing. "Sounds like someone's got some secrets they want to spill."

You and Mingyu have been friends for so long, and there's always been an unspoken understanding between you. You've both felt that special connection, that undeniable fondness, but you've never dared to cross the line into something more. Deep down, you know there's something between you, something beyond friendship, but the fear of ruining what you have has kept you from taking that leap.

You've had countless late-night conversations, stolen glances, and moments that lingered a little too long, but you've always brushed them off, burying your true feelings deep inside. The thought of risking your friendship for a romantic relationship is daunting, and neither of you wants to jeopardize the bond you've built over the years.

So, you continue to keep your feelings to yourselves, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmers beneath the surface whenever you're together. It's a delicate dance, one filled with longing and hesitation, but for now, you're content to cherish the friendship you share, even if it means keeping your love hidden away.

"So, who's going first?" Mingyu asks, breaking the momentary silence with a playful grin.

You return his smile, feeling a surge of warmth despite the lingering tension. "Let's do Rock, Paper, Scissors," you suggest, a hint of excitement in your voice. It's a simple game, but it's enough to ease the tension and bring a sense of familiarity back to the conversation.

As Mingyu lost the round, you couldn't help but cheer in victory, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. "Yes! Looks like you're up first," you say, your voice laced with playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm before responding, "Truth."

You playfully roll your eyes, letting out a mock disappointed sigh. "Boooo, truth? Not fun at all," you tease, poking fun at his choice.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey now, just you wait. I'll go for a dare next, just you wait," he replies, his tone confident and playful, hinting at the fun that's yet to come.

As you think of a question to ask Mingyu, a sudden curiosity crosses your mind. You know he is quite active when it comes to sex, but you've never really discussed the details of his intimate encounters. "So, Gyu," you start, trying to sound casual despite the unexpected question, "how many... um, people have you been with?"

Mingyu's expression shifts from amusement to slight shock at the unexpected question, but he recovers quickly, offering a smile. "Well, let's see," he begins, counting on his fingers before giving you his answer.

You can't help but let out a "Really?" in response, your surprise evident in your tone. It's not that you're judging him, but you never realized just how many partners he had been with. It's a revelation that leaves you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond.

"So, this is the kind of truth or dare you want, huh?" Mingyu mocks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, I don't want the traditional truth or dare. I just want it, hmm, let's say a little bit spicy," you reply, matching his playful tone.

Mingyu smirks, nodding in agreement. "Sure," he replies, his smirk widening. "Truth or dare?"

You don't hesitate. "Dare, for sure," you respond, feeling a thrill of excitement at the prospect of what he might come up with.

Mingyu's face lights up with mischief as he reveals his dare, and your eyes widen in shock at his bold suggestion. "Wait, Mingyu, that's a bit much, don't you think?" you protest, feeling a rush of nervousness at the thought of carrying out his request.

He chuckles, his smirk growing wider. "Hey, you said you don't want traditional, right?" he mocks playfully. "So come on, don't back down now."

You shoot him a glare, a mix of apprehension and defiance in your expression, but ultimately, you decide to play along. With a sigh, you reluctantly comply, removing your shorts and leaving yourself in just an oversized shirt that barely covers your underwear, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

You quickly grab the nearest pillow to cover your lower half, feeling a bit exposed in your current state. With a slightly defiant look, you turn to him and ask, "Truth or dare?"

Mingyu flashes you a charming smile and opens his mouth to say "truth," but before the word leaves his lips, you throw the pillow at him with a playful yet exasperated huff. He catches it effortlessly, a smirk playing on his lips as he places the pillow back over your lower half.

"Alright, alright," he chuckles, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's change it up. Dare."

You can't help but roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fine," you say, contemplating your next move. With a glint of mischief in your eyes, you formulate a not so daring challenge for him, ready to see how far he's willing to go.

"I dare you to remove your shirt," you say with a sly grin, enjoying the turn of events.

Mingyu's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your boldness, but he can't help but chuckle at your cheeky dare. "Is this still truth or dare or strip poker minus the poker?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

With a shrug, he complies, smoothly pulling off his shirt to reveal his well-defined abs. You can't help but feel a rush of frustration mingled with something else as you take in the sight. Sure, you've seen him shirtless countless times before, but this time feels different, more intimate. It's lowkey arousing, and you find yourself momentarily lost for words, the air between you charged with newfound tension.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you contemplate your next move. "Truth or dare?" he asks, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing that if you ask for a dare again, he might take it to another level, and you're not sure you're ready for that. So, with a slight flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, you decide to play it safe. "Truth," you say, opting for the safer option this time.

He nods, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he leans back on the couch thinking what will he ask you, his left arm resting casually on the sofa while he taps it with his fingers, the picture of relaxed confidence. You can feel the wetness forming through your underwear at the sight, a subtle reminder of the tension simmering between you.

Mingyu's question catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his boldness. "What do you think about me sexually?" he asks, his tone teasing yet curious. "And have you ever had a wet dream about me?"

Your heart races at the daring nature of his inquiry, and you quickly try to regain your composure. "Hey, one question at a time," you retort, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I can only answer one."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "Well," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "sexually, I think you're... intriguing. There's definitely an attraction there." You pause, feeling a rush of nerves at your confession.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he waits for your answer regarding the wet dream question.

"It's your turn," you tell him, deflecting his question about the wet dream with a playful smile.

Mingyu chuckles at your evasion. "Alright, fair enough," he concedes. "Okay, okay, I'll choose truth since you're playing it safe."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief that he's opting for a more straightforward question this time. But deep down, you can't shake the lingering curiosity about what might have been if he had pressed further.

You take a deep breath, your throat feeling suddenly dry as you muster up the courage to ask the question that's been lingering in your mind. "Have you ever had a wet dream about me?" you inquire, your voice slightly shaky despite your attempt to sound nonchalant.

As you wait for Mingyu's response, you reach for the water on the table, your fingers trembling ever so slightly. His answer comes quicker than you expected, and it almost catches you off guard. "All the time," he replies with a playful grin, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Your hand freezes mid-air, the cup of water perilously close to tipping over as his words sink in. With a swift motion, you steady the drink, taking a big gulp to hide your surprise. You manage to swallow without spilling a drop, but the shock is evident in your expression.

You meet Mingyu's gaze, trying to play it cool as he smile innocently. However, your mind is racing with a million thoughts, wondering what exactly he means by "all the time."

Feeling a surge of nervous energy, you head to the kitchen to grab some cans of beer, hoping that a little liquid courage will help you navigate the increasingly charged atmosphere between you and him. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, his gaze lingering on your every move, and it only serves to heighten the tension.

Returning to the sofa, you place the cans of beer on the table without a word, and Mingyu doesn't question your sudden choice of beverage. He simply grabs a can, pops it open, and takes a long gulp, the sound of the fizz filling the air.

As he finishes his drink, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze still fixed on you. "Should we continue?" he asks, his voice low and husky, the unspoken tension crackling between you like electricity.

"Dare," you say, feeling a rush of anticipation coursing through your veins as you set the can down, ready for things to escalate.

Mingyu's eyes gleam with mischief as he accepts the challenge, his lips curling into a devilish grin. "I dare you to sit on my lap," he declares, his voice low and teasing.

You gulp, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand up, still clutching the pillow that covers your lower half. Slowly, you make your way over to where Mingyu is sitting, his gaze burning into yours as he taps his lap, silently urging you to take the plunge.

With a shaky breath, you lower yourself onto his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. As you settle into his embrace, he gently removes the pillow from your grasp, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You give Mingyu's hand a playful smack, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you protest, "Hey, that's not part of the dare!"

He just chuckles at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get feisty," he teases, his tone light.

But then, he raises an eyebrow suggestively, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why don't you dare me to let me place my hand on your thighs then?" he suggests, his voice low and husky, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Your heart races at the suggestion, torn between the thrill of the dare and the apprehension of where it might lead. With a nervous laugh, you meet his gaze, your own eyes dancing with excitement. "Okay, then. I dare you," you say, the words coming out in a breathless whisper, "to place your hand on my thigh."

"Sure, if you say so," Mingyu responds, a hint of excitement evident in his voice as he complies with your dare.

His hand returns to your thigh, but this time, it's not just resting there; it's caressing, moving up and down in a slow, tantalizing motion that sends shivers down your spine. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a gasp at the sensation.

"Truth or dare?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Dare," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Face me," he commands gently, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

Following his instructions, you shift your position, straddling his lap as he remains seated, facing each other. As you settle into his embrace, you feel your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your underwear. Mingyu's hands find their way to your waist, holding you firmly as you feel the unmistakable pressure of his bulge against you.

The sensation sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can feel yourself getting wet as desire courses through your veins. With every movement, every touch, the tension between you escalates, and you know that this game of truth or dare is about to take a decidedly steamy turn.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you muster up the courage to continue the game. "Truth or dare?" you ask Mingyu, your voice slightly shaky.

"Truth," he replies, his gaze locked with yours, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

"What kind of kisser are you?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mingyu's lips curl into a smirk as he considers his response. "Do you want to find out?" he asks suggestively, his hand squeezing your waist gently.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. "Well, I did ask, so.. yeah" you reply bravely, meeting his gaze with determination.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, the tension between you palpable. His arousal only fuels your own, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

A shiver runs down your spine as Mingyu's whispered words caress your ear, his voice laced with a hint of teasing affection. "Being brave now, huh? Is it, babe?" he murmurs, his warm breath sending a delicious tingle down your spine.

The affectionate term catches you off guard, and you feel your stomach flutter at the sound of it. He rarely uses such endearments, reserving them for moments when he wants to tease you or express a deeper level of intimacy. Hearing it now, in the midst of this charged atmosphere, sends a rush of warmth coursing through you, and you can't help but lean into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

"One of us should be brave," you tease, trying to maintain a hint of playful banter despite the growing intensity between you.

Mingyu's hand continues its slow exploration beneath the fabric of your shirt, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. His warm breath tickles your neck as he hums in agreement to your suggestion.

You feel his lips brush against your collarbone, the exposed skin tingling at his touch. A small gasp escapes your lips as he presses a gentle kiss to the sensitive area, eliciting a low curse from him.

"I've wanted this to happen for so long," Mingyu admits, his voice thick with desire as he moves to your neck, peppering it with small, teasing kisses.

You place your hand on his face, halting his advances and meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. "So, will I finally get to know what kind of a kisser you are?" you tease, your voice laced with anticipation.

Mingyu's eyes sparkle with amusement as he leans back slightly, his smirk widening. "Guess you'll just have to find out," he replies, his tone teasing yet filled with promise.

The tension between you crackles in the air as you share a knowing look, both fully aware of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean in closer, closing the distance between you, ready to discover just how skilled of a kisser Mingyu truly is.

As Mingyu's lips gently meet yours, a surge of longing washes over you, and you realize just how long it's been since you've shared a kiss like this. His touch is soft yet insistent, coaxing you to lean into the embrace of his lips.

You feel a flutter in your chest as the kiss deepens, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. Sensing your hesitation, Mingyu pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire.

"Remember to breathe," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion, as he brushes his thumb against your cheek in a gentle caress.

You let out a shaky breath through your nose, the sensation grounding you in the present moment as you lean back in, surrendering to the intoxicating warmth of Mingyu's kiss.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent and passionate as Mingyu's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. Your own arms intertwine around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours.

Feeling bold, Mingyu's hand trails down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As he bites your lower lip, a gasp escapes your lips, allowing him access to deepen the kiss further. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you taste the mingling of his saliva with yours, the sensation sending a thrill coursing through your veins.

Unconsciously, your hips begin to move, seeking more contact, more friction. He responds with a low groan, his own arousal evident as you feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you. The realization of the desire between you ignites a fire within, and you find yourself grinding against him, seeking more of the delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you both.

As you continue to move back and forth, the intensity of the moment heightens, and Mingyu's hands tighten around your waist, his hips meeting yours in a synchronized rhythm. The friction between you builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your tongues dance together in a heated battle for dominance, each movement fueling the growing desire between you. Mingyu's groans and hissed praises only add to the intoxicating atmosphere, his words sending shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he murmurs between heated kisses, his voice thick with desire. "So good, baby. I can't wait to feel you around me," he adds, his words sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

You can feel your wetness dripping down your legs as you move faster, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. Mingyu's grip on your waist tightens, his own arousal evident as he matches your movements with increasing urgency.

With a final, desperate grind, you both reach the peak of pleasure, the sensation overwhelming as you cling to each other, panting and breathless. You can feel your fluids slipping through your underwear, mingling with Mingyu's cum visible on his fabric.

"I can't wait to put my cock inside you," he whispers huskily, his words sending a thrill of excitement through you as you come down from the dizzying heights of pleasure, both of you eager for what comes next.

You rest your head against Mingyu's neck, still trying to catch your breath after the intense moment you shared. His suggestion of resting makes sense, and you nod in agreement, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through your body.

"Let's rest for a bit," he suggests, his voice husky with desire as he gently strokes your hair.

You meet his gaze, your eyes full of lust and hunger, a silent understanding passing between you. The desire to continue what you started pulses through your veins, igniting a fire within you.

"Maybe we should continue this in my bedroom," Mingyu suggests, his voice low and seductive, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of what's to come. With a nod, you agree, your heart pounding with anticipation as you both make your way to his bedroom.

As you stand in front of him, the tension between you palpable, Mingyu's gaze meets yours, filled with hunger and lust. He licks his lips, your eyes trailing down to his pants where you can see the evidence of your shared desire, his cum seeping through the fabric, mingling with the wetness that you've contributed. Heat floods your cheeks as you meet his gaze again, seeing the raw lust burning in his eyes, mirroring the desire coursing through your own veins.

"You look so hot like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he starts talking dirty, his words sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

The anticipation builds, and you can't help but feel yourself growing more aroused by the second, eager for what comes next in this steamy encounter with Mingyu. You both silently acknowledge that this game of truth or dare has taken a turn you never expected or you did.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

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jasmineoolongtea · 4 months ago

Text

― test drive ⭑.ᐟ

― the ways in which they drive you (crazy) ⋆⭒˚.⋆

contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, choso x gn!reader, toji x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, the term passenger princess is used but is not gender specific, nicknames (baby, darling, my dear, love, doll), kissing, fluff, slight crack for some, jjk men and their driving habits (stay safe on the road guys jhdshdj) a/n: title is based on test drive by ariana grande and i wrote this to celebrate me getting my driver's license so yipeeee !!! this is much longer than i was expecting it to be (especially for a headcannon/drabble) so sorry for the delay on my behalf, as always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciate and much love from me to you all <33

gojo satoru fights with you over who gets to be passenger princess loves to take you out for spontaneous drives whenever and wherever that you begin to question if this might be a secret addiction or guilty pleasure of his.

(his real secret addiction is just you but it doesn't take a detective to figure that out)

"hop in!" he shouts as he arrives at your front door in a shiny white convertible. it seems that he's decided to whip out an old classic of his, though you can't deny that he keeps you on your toes whenever he pulls up in a new or different ride seemingly every time he picks you up.

you wonder to yourself what he does with all his other cars in that massive collection of his.

"we're going on a trip to the beach you've been telling me about for weeks and plus, i already booked a hotel suite for us." he announces eagerly and though his eyes are currently covered by a pair of black sunglasses, you know that they're practically glimmering with palpable excitement. he opens his hand towards you as his way of beckoning you to come along with him.

you take his hand and he pulls you towards his side to the point where you're almost resting atop his door before he presses his lips against your intertwined hands in a lingering kiss.

"toru, is this a cry for help? are you on the run from something?" you joke, a look of mild amusement on your features, and he rolls his eyes light-heartedly at you.

"please, baby?" he slides up his sunglasses so that they're perched up on his snowy white locks and looks up at you with those big puppy-dog eyes that you know you could never ever say no to no matter how ridiculous the request was.

you silently think over his proposition for a moment.

looking up to the sky, you notice that today is a particularly sunny day and despite the sun being smack dab in the middle of the sky, it also wasn't boiling hot on account of the light breeze which made this a special type of sunny day that was a once in while occurrence for summertime. to be fair, it had also been a while since you and satoru went out anywhere together on account of your clashing schedules so it wasn't necessarily the worst thing to be spending some time off with him.

(you also wouldn't mind the sight of him shirtless on the beach but that was a different conversation to be had)

you look back at him and after careful consideration on your behalf, decide to indulge in this whim of his.

"okay, fine but did you-"

"yep, i already made all the arrangements so it's all cleared up for the two of us." he cuts you off smoothly with a cheeky wink.

"i don't want you stressing about anything in that head of yours, alright?" as if to punctuate his point, satoru lightly taps on your forehead which earns him a small smile and a soft shove to the shoulder from you.

you quickly head in to grab some stuff from your place before returning outside and jumping into the passenger seat. he leaps out of his seat and over the hood of the car to open the door for you before you can even reach for the handle and you sink in comfortably into the expanses of the plush leather seat beneath you.

"you better make this worth it, mister." you remark playfully at him. he returns the smile on your face with one of his own as he leans over to place a deep kiss against your lips, taking his time to savour the taste of you on his tongue.

"trust me, baby. i'll make it worth your while."

geto suguru always makes you his designated passenger princess when driving. no matter what vehicle it is, be it a car, motorcycle, or even a bicycle (you're still not sure how he managed to do that), suguru has seemingly decided that the title of passenger princess belongs to you and only you.

he takes this so seriously that he even goes so far as to specifically reserve the front seat for you in any vehicle he's driving in and makes sure that you're the only one who can sit there. just ask satoru, who unfortunately had to learn that the hard way when he tried to call shotgun one time on a road trip and was chased off by suguru who went to the extent of blocking the door to the front seat until you arrived which he graciously opened the door for you whilst also sending satoru a warning stare.

now, this isn't because he doesn't trust your skills, he does wholeheartedly and would gladly put his life in your hands. it's just that he thinks that you deserve to relax and that you deserve the princess treatment at all times (his words, not yours).

of course, if you do want to drive, he'll let you but he always insists on helping you out in any way that he can even if it is the smallest things like clipping on your seatbelt for you before surprising you with a fleeting kiss against your cheeks, though the sensation is gone before you know it and you're left wondering if it really just happened.

he always does it in a way that's so subtle that by the time you notice, it's already too late and he just smiles at you with an oh-so-innocent look on his face that makes it impossible to even accuse him of any wrongdoing, although this wasn't really a wrongdoing in most senses of the word per se.

though, it seems that this time, you're able to catch him red-handed in the act.

as the car pulls into the parking spot, you make a move to reach for the handle to open the door on your side when suddenly, it seems that someone has apparently beaten you to the punch.

you pause for a moment as your brain attempts to catch up with what has apparently just transpired.

"sugu, wasn't my hand on there?" you ask, quickly flicking your eyes back and forth from where you were sure where your hand used to be and where suguru's hand was now residing.

"hmm?" he raises a curious eyebrow in your direction, as if completely oblivious to his own actions. "oh, i'm not sure what you're talking about, darling." he remarks, brushing off your concern in a nonchalant manner as he leans over to unbuckle your seatbelt for you.

"suguru." you chide, there's a warning edge to your words as you cross your arms at him. thinking about it now, you're definitely sure that it was suguru who moved your hand out of the way just so he could open it for you.

it's not that you were necessarily mad about him doing this, quite the opposite in fact as you can't deny the way he makes your heart flutter whenever he goes out of his way to treat you like royalty, but rather, you're more interested in finally being able to get a confession from the ever elusive geto suguru.

he stops for a second, as if to weigh up the options in his mind, before a small sigh escapes his lips as he reaches over to gently caress your cheek. "i'm just saying that why do you need to do something so small when i'm here to do it for you."

maybe it's the way you seemingly become putty in his hands or the velvety cadence of his voice that you're pretty sure could convince people to walk into a wall without them even realising or perhaps it's just him, but you find yourself hard-pressed to try and come up with any sort of rebuttal on your end so you settle for a silently 'humph' of defeat.

a soft chuckle escapes him at your response. he presses his lips against your temple before tilting his head ever so slightly sideways so he can get a better look at you. "if you really don't like it, i'll stop. but, if you don't mind, then just let me treat you, alright darling?"

nanami kento might just be the best (and most distracting) driving teacher you could ever ask for.

it wasn't that you didn't know how to drive, you did, but rather, you wanted to get better at it because you always felt a slight pang of guilt whenever you noticed how he would occasionally try to fight off a small yawn when you're in the car with him. you know how much his job drains him already so you're honestly just worried that he might be overexerting himself when he should be trying to take the time to catch up on some much-needed rest instead.

when you originally approached him with this idea, he tried to reassure you that there was nothing to worry about and that he was fine.

"really, my dear, it's no trouble. you know i enjoy driving you around." he insists, an arm curling up around your figure as you nestle into his embrace one friday evening on your living room couch.

"that's not the point, kento." you pout slightly as you gaze up at him from your position. you gently run your finger underneath his eyes as you take in just how dark his eyebags appear to be. "just think of it as me wanting to help lighten some of your burdens when you're tired, that's all."

he rests his chin upon the crown of your head, silently mulling over your request for a moment in his head before agreeing. "alright then, but don't think i'll go easy on you, dear."

you giggle softly at his answer, brushing off his words as a joke before you lean in for a kiss.

you should have really paid attention then.

true to his words, it seems that kento was really making true to his promise as you have never met someone this meticulous and so dedicated to all the small details when it came to driving in general. hell, this might even be more difficult than when you first took your driving lessons to get your license.

it also doesn't really help that he might be one of the most distracting teachers you've ever had as well as you've never had to fight this hard to focus until now when he's reaching over to smoothen out any wrinkles that might have appeared on your clothes because of your seat belt and brushing his hands against yours when you reach for the gear shift.

"you have to pay attention, my dear." he reminds you as he delicately tilts your face so that you're facing forward at the road instead of stealing glances at him. "eyes on the road, not me."

a shaky breath leaves your lips as you try to concentrate on driving, just like he says, but you're beginning to wonder if this is a test of your strength as a person instead when his large hands envelop yours as he helps readjust your hands to the correct position on the steering wheel.

at least when you do something well, you're rewarded with a kiss from him so he definitely understands how to incentivise you even more which is a strong strategy in your books that has no complaints.

when you decide to surprise him one day by picking him up from work, the look on his face is absolutely priceless when you roll down the window and he realises that it's you. once inside the car, he laces his fingers with yours as he brings your hand up to his lip for a soft kiss.

"you've passed with flying colours." he congratulates you, a smile playing on his lips as he gazes at you with utter adoration in his eyes.

although, there will forever be a part of you that misses being able to experience teacher nanami kento. maybe you can convince him to teach you something else.

kamo choso needs to have his hand on you at all times and this extends to driving as well.

it was like a mental checklist that he would run through every time the two of you got into the car, no matter who was driving. doors locked? check. nothing blocking the car? check. all mirrors are angled correctly? check. his hand on you? he gives your hand a cursory glance and quickly intertwines his fingers with yours before he squeezes it softly, soaking in the feeling of your hand enveloped in his. a satisfied hum leaves his lips as he checks off another box in his head.

if it was up to him, you two would just stay home all the time so he could remain glued to you forever but unfortunately for him, it seems that the world doesn't agree with his fantasies.

you never really questioned this habit of his, rather just writing it off as another one of his adorable quirks that you were privy to as his significant other, much like how he likes to trail behind you like a lost puppy whenever you walk anywhere together or how he insists that you should wear his hoodies since they're much better at helping you stay warm even though you both bought hoodies at the same store. small things, like that you know?

however, one day, it seems that your curiosity has seemingly gotten the best of you as you decide to pull off a harmless prank on him to just see what would happen if there were to be a snag in this routine of his.

when the two of you get into the car that day, choso runs through his usual checklist before starting the car and when he gets to the specific step involving you, you evade his attempts to hold your hand. the moment his hand is met with the cold emptiness of air instead of the warmth of yours, he freezes up for a second as his mind tries to comprehend what just happened.

"did i do something?" there's an immediate switch in his demeanour as he almost visibly shrinks and shrivels up in his seat like a cartoon flower that has been deprived of water and sunlight. his voice is delicately soft, as if scared to break this newfound silence between the two of you with one wrong move on his behalf, with a small pout on his lips that reminds you of a kicked puppy.

with one look at his face, you can feel your resolve start to waver and you're extremely tempted to throw your little prank out of the window to go and comfort him and reassure him that he's done nothing wrong but you steel yourself in an attempt to hold your ground.

"you didn't do anything, cho." you reply plainly, trying to keep your voice as relaxed as possible to avoid giving anything away.

you're pretty sure his pout gets even poutier, which you weren't sure could even possibly happen, at your response as he asks again in a thinly veiled plea. "then why won't you let me hold your hand when i drive?"

"well, why do you want to do it in the first place."

"because it's my good luck charm." without even missing a beat, he replies in a tone so matter of fact, you can hardly find any good reason to protest.

"that's all?" you probe, curiosity eagerly egging you on.

"well, i also like being reminded that you're right to me."

"you could just look at me, cho." you giggle softly. he shakes his head at you.

"yeah, but it's not the same as holding you. i like feeling you in my hands. so, can i have your permission to hold your hand?" he reaches his hand out towards you earnestly as he anxiously awaits your response.

you lean over to give him a quick peck on the lips before breaking into a small smile, seemingly satisfied with his heartfelt words, as you take the initiative to entwine your fingers with his. this earns you a soft grin and blush from choso who eagerly peppers your face with kisses with barely-contained joy and relief from being able to hold you again.

after this, you sometimes decide to surprise choso by making the first move to reach for him instead of vice versa and his heart always skips a beat as he tries and fails to fight off a smile whenever you do.

fushiguro toji scares you slightly with the way that he drives. hear me out, that's not to say that he isn't good, he's a great driver truth be told (but you would never say that to his face because you could just imagine the smirk on his face if you did), but he does

to be fair, toji is far from being a novice driver so it makes sense that he's comfortable enough in his abilities to be able to pull off such risky manoeuvres in your eyes but you can't help how your heart skips a beat or two when he starts pulling moves straight from movies like fast & furious.

whenever you lightly chide him for making such moves like how he effortlessly weaves his way around tight corners and such, he always brushes off your concerns with ease.

"doll, do you think that i'd ever risk doing anything stupid when i have precious cargo in here hmm?" he quips back at you with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his lips slightly upturned in that classic crooked smirk of his that makes your heart flutter in more ways than one.

you think for a second about how you want to wipe off that grin with a kiss, to give him a taste of his own teasing, but then you're reminded that you don't wanna give him this victory so you turn off to the side with a small huff leaving your lips. he chuckles to himself under his breath at your antics before leaning over to your side of the car.

"no comment, doll?" he teases. you don't take the bait but you can feel your cheeks rising with heat with how close he is to you to the point you can feel his breath against your neck.

after seeing that you're not budging, toji leans back into his seat though not before intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a quick kiss. he lets go of your hand shortly after and reassuringly squeezes your thigh with his calloused hand.

"have some more faith in me, would 'ya?" he hums and you expect him to let go of you when he starts to drive again, but he doesn't and his grip on you remains there for the entire ride and the next ride after and so forth to the point where it becomes an unspoken habit for him to do so.

he does take a bit more caution when driving now, which he can tell is much to your relief when he notices that you seemingly have much more free time to try and tease him when he's driving for your own amusement.

but after all, old habits die hard and sometimes, they slip through every now and then like when he suddenly pulls off a rapid turn but this time, you can't deny the adrenaline rush that comes along with it.

fushiguro megumi has the most infuriating driving habits in the way that they're also the most attractive driving habits you've ever seen someone have.

you might be biased on account that he's your boyfriend but put anyone in your shoes and in that close proximity to him when he leans over the console to check your seatbelt for you and brushes against you or how he never fails to catch your eyes when adjusting the rear-view mirror and you're sure that they would have the same reaction as you which would be a blushing mess.

ironically, he also drives you up a wall with how oblivious he's acting to the effect it has on you. it has to be an act right? you think to yourself. there's no way that he can be so oblivious to the fact that whenever he looks at you, your face is always flushed red and you're sure that he can't truthfully buy your weak attempts at brushing off his concerns as you stutter an excuse out.

probably one of his worst offences in your book was when he would roll up his sleeve before putting his arm behind your seat to get a better view while reversing. you couldn't even try to logically come up with an explanation for why he does this since no way having his sleeves rolled up affects his ability to do this in any way, shape or form. plus, his car has a rearview camera on the dash monitor so he doesn't even need to look back like this!

well, there's a part of you that knows that you shouldn't probably complain that much since it gives you a good excuse to stare unabashedly at the way his lean muscles flex slightly with each move he makes. but still, the point remains that you have to try and pretend like you're perfectly fine despite

this has to be some form of torture right? you think to yourself, being able to only stare and not do anything else because he's busy driving and you don't want to distract him but yet you're being constantly subjected to stuff like this. you try and fight the growing red blush that seeks to consume your face as you continue to test the limits of your own resolve.

it seems that you're far too lost in your own head and have completely zoned out when suddenly, a voice interrupts your train of thought. "are you looking at my arms?"

at megumi's question, you're instantly brought back into reality as you realise that you had zoned out whilst blatantly staring at his exposed arms and therefore was just caught red handed in the act of shamelessly ogling.

you can feel a strong sense of embarrassment starting to set in as your mind runs through hundreds of different possible responses to his question that range from outright denial to a full-on detailed rant on the way some of his driving habits make you feel before you finally decide to settle on a simple "yes."

a beat of silence passes between the two of you before megumi awkwardly attempts to clear his throat as he brings a hand up to run through his hair.

"o-oh, okay." he stutters out as he tries to turn his attention back to the wheel.

neither of you speak any more on the topic for the rest of the journey though, there seems to be a shift in megumi as he seemingly becomes much more observant towards the apparent effect he has on you when he drives and although you can't confirm it, it also seems that now his actions are much more intentional instead of accidental as he'll purposefully linger on you now rather as if to draw out your reaction rather than pull away normally like before.

you're also sure that there's a ghost of smile on his lips when you do get flustered because of him.

however, he can't hide the fact that the tips of his ears burn bright red whenever he catches you staring now.

okkotsu yuuta loves to shower you with all the love and attention he can offer you at all times. if this was a job, he would be the employee of the month every single month and he would never fail to clock in for his shift. it's not his fault if he gets so distracted by this that he forgets that he also has to do other things as well.

this is probably also why yuuta isn't a very good multitasker when you're next to him.

as much as you love it and him, you had to strike a compromise with him that he could hold it in until you were at a red light in order to make sure that one, his attention would stay on the road and not you, and two, you two would stop getting honked at or angrily stared at by the other drivers on the road who were unfortunate enough to be in the same lane.

whenever the light does turn green and he has to return his attention back to driving, he always pulls away with the most regretful look on his face and you can't help but picture him as a little sad puppy whenever he looks at you with those large, seemingly bottomless eyes that threaten to pull you in whenever you stare at them too long.

you're currently stopped at a red light, a surprisingly long one at that, and it seems that yuuta is fully taking advantage of this opportunity by reaching over the console and capturing your lips in his with such vigour you might think he's been deprived of your touch for the last century (not that you're complaining, of course)

you hear the beeping of the traffic light coming in from your right side, informing you that the light is going to change soon and you break apart for a breath of air to quickly inform him. "yuu, the light's gonna turn green soon."

"just a few more seconds, love." he murmurs against your lips. he has his fingers hooked around your chin as if to hold you in place so he can savour the taste of your just a bit longer. it's clear that he has no intentions to pull away with how his other hand is slowly snaking its way around your waist.

"yuu," you huff out as your eyes flick to the rear window, taking stock of the seemingly endless line of cars waiting behind yours. "i'm pretty sure the car behind us is honking at us to go."

almost as if right on cue, there's the loud screech of a car horn from behind you which goes on for what is probably longer than necessary but yuuta gets the message as he quickly scrambles back into his seat with a small yelp of surprise escaping from his lips and the car jumps back to life as he presses down on the accelerator.

he offers you a sheepish look and you roll your eyes light-heartedly before leaning over to his side to place a chaste kiss against his cheek. the tips of his ears burn bright red the moment your lips grace his skin and he almost visibly deflates when the sensation proves to be a fleeting one.

you can almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he scans the road ahead for any traffic lights or intersections and you know that he's already hoping that they turn red as soon as he gets closer to them. he squeezes your hand twice before returning to the steering wheel and you can't help but smile to yourself at him.

at least you have something to look forward to at red lights now.

itadori yuji makes it his personal job to make every drive with him the most fun drive you could ever have.

originally, it started out with him trying to find a way to make driving more enjoyable for you when you were practising for your driver's test since he knew how much it stressed you out and it hurt his heart to see you so panicked.

if it was up to him, he wouldn't mind being your personal driver 24/7 but he also knew that this was a really big milestone for you and you were insistent on learning this life skill and so it became his life mission to make driving enjoyable for you in any way, shape or form that he can.

of course, with any new thing, there was a slight learning curve for yuji, especially since he was going from what he was used to with his role as the driver to a passenger, but soon enough he became an expert in this to the point where it was almost like he was a mind reader with how well he could anticipate your wants and needs.

carpool karaoke? he's already got a playlist loaded up with all your favourite hits on there. feeling peckish? yuji has a stash of snacks that he knows you love ready in the trunk and is always willing to hop out at a local gas station and go on a late-night shopping spree with you. a bit tired? he's got a pillow and blanket with your name on it in the back seat and he's ready to take over from you at any second.

even when you're not driving, he still tries his best to take care of you whilst also paying attention to the road and although sometimes the balance is a bit more towards you, you don't mind jumping in to help a bit here and there.

when you do try and thank him for his efforts, he always brushes it off with ease as he insists that he's only fulfilling his duties as your boyfriend and that he doesn't need any thanks for doing something as simple as this.

whatever you need, yuji's prepared and ready to help you out in any way that he can and all he could ever ask for in return is to see that smile that he loves so much on your face.

after each drive with him, you always remember to pepper his face with kisses before leaning in for a peck against his lips, which inevitably turns into something much longer as he chases after the fleeting feeling of your lips on his, as your own way of thanking him.

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lovemybluebully · 3 months ago

Text

A Small Lapse of Judgement

What do you get when you cross a drunk Wolverine? Tickled. You get tickled. 🤣

Okay, yeah sorry guys. This one is literally like twice as long as my last one, but Logan and Wade both needed to get wrecked good. lol I'm just having too much fun writing these guys. So get some snacks or something because you're going to be here for a minute.

More somewhat movie spoilers, and Wade saying inappropriate things to Logan's annoyance. lol Oh, and of course tons of cussing. And tickles. Lots of tickles.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 4,372

At first Logan had declined Wade's invitation to live with him at his apartment. Having been on his own for so long Logan didn't want to accept the fact that anyone actually wanted him around, but after Wade's persistent prodding and convincing he finally accepted.

"Yes!! It'll be like a sexy slumber party!" Wade had whooped, but one steely-eyed look from Logan made him turn it down, "Ahem. Or, you know, just two guys hanging out together with no lewd activities of any kind...."

No doubt Wade pushed Logan's buttons and got on his nerves more than anyone he had ever met in his life, but after their ordeal together there was no denying the bond that had been created between the two of them. It was hard for him to admit it, but Wade was definitely someone Logan now considered as a friend.

Surprisingly he settled in quickly and had begun to make himself comfortable, allowing him to let his guard down and actually relax for once. It was only a one-bedroom apartment so even though he had to sleep out on the couch every night he was grateful to have a place to call home.

And Wade was thrilled to have him there. Unlike his other roommate, Blind Al, Logan was progressively becoming more tolerant of his off the wall antics so it was nice to have someone else there that he could really joke around with. And drink with, though Logan still tended to embark on some solo day drinking of his own.

Wade shuffled into the living room in his crocs one late evening with Dogpool cradled in his arm to find Logan slouched over on the couch in nothing but jeans and a tank top and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Further observation revealed there to be two more empty bottles laying around on the ground by his feet.

"Hey. Robert Downey Jr. Wanna take it easy on the booze?"

Logan lazily looked up at him, rolling his eyes when he saw Wade was allowing the dog to lick all over his face.

"I will once ya take it easy on always making out with that mutt."

Wade stared at him in defiance as he continued to kiss Dogpool's head while she licked all around his mouth, making Logan grimace in disgust before Wade set her down upon the ten-sizes-too-big dog bed he had bought for her.

"You know if you were jealous all you had to do was ask, baby girl. There's plenty of Wade Wilson to go around," he leaped onto the couch beside Logan and puckered his lips, making smooching sounds as he tried to pull the other man close while Logan cursed and struggled to hold him back.

"Hey hey! Fucking knock it off, asshole!" Despite his annoyance he chuckled a little with the alcohol lightening his mood and after a few more seconds Wade finally relented to sit himself back.

"You can fight it all you want, but I know you'll come around one day. There's no resisting my natural labido," Wade sat facing him as he gave a wink and a flirty grin, causing Logan to sigh with a shake of his head and take another sip from the bottle.

"See this is exactly why I still drink. I need something to help tolerate your obnoxious ass on a daily basis."

"Fine by me. It has its benefits. Number one being that you're so much less stabby when you're like this," Wade teased, wiggling a finger into his side as Logan squirmed and giggled before swatting at his hand with boozed up coordination.

"Why are ya always tickling me? I hate that shit," Logan was still smiling though as he rubbed at his irritated ribs.

"Because," Wade smiled and turned to look out at the audience before whispering quietly under his breath, "The people demand it."

He sat staring in silence for several seconds until Logan lifted a brow in confusion.

"The fuck you looking at?"

"Nothing," Wade turned back to him, "Well it's because I have to make you laugh somehow, grumpy pants. You're always so serious, and worst of all you never laugh at my jokes."

"Oh yeah? Have ya tried actually being funny?" A big shit eating grin was plastered on Logan's face as he instinctively pulled his arms in close to his body, not expecting Wade to let that one slide.

"Ooh hoo hoo, you're going to pay for that one later. You know what, smart ass? Maybe I'll tickle you in front of Laura. I'm sure she'd love to help me double team you sometime. A little badger on badger action, if you will."

It was Wade's turn to smirk as Logan just looked back at him with nervous eyes that he tried to hide behind the scowl now creasing over his face.

"You'd better fuckin' not."

"I don't know. It's sounding like a pretty good idea to me. Usually I have to pay to see that kind of thing but-"

Logan growled as his claws started to come out, but Wade just laughed and wagged a finger at him.

"Ah ah ah! Rule number one, no bloodshed in the house. So best keep those claws of yours in check, my little kitty cat."

"Just don't give me a reason then," Logan warned, retracting the claws before his eyes raised to focus on Wade's head, "By the way, how long are ya gonna keep wearing that stupid toupee? I already told you that you ain't foolin' anyone with that thing."

Wade looked positively insulted as he patted and smoothed down the hair on his head.

"Uhmm excuse me? As I've told you a thousand times, it's a hair system. It's so I can go out in public looking halfway decent. Not all of us were blessed with the perfect bone structure of a successful Broadway actor," turns his head briefly to look at the camera, "And besides, I think it looks quite distinguished."

"I've seen better looking roadkill than whatever that thing's made out of," Logan snorted and downed the rest of the bottle in his hand before dropping it on the floor beside the other empty bottles.

"Says the guy who looks like he has roadkill glued to the sides of his face," Wade gave a less than gentle tug on his muttonchops as Logan grunted and smacked his hand away.

"Oh yeah? Well at least I can grow facial hair, pal. You on the other hand don't have a speck of hair on your whole goddamn body. You're like a fucking pre-pubescent child. This is what a real man looks like," a tipsy smirk crawled across his face as he nonchalantly pulled up his tank top to show off his hairy chest and stomach.

He emphasized his point by running a hand over his hirsute, muscular torso while Wade just stared very, very hard.

"........Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it's working," Wade was smiling deviously and reaching a hand out as Logan chuckled dryly and gave him a hard shove, sending him flying to the other end of the couch, "Just so you know, I'm adding that one to the spank bank."

"You fucking wish, bub. Think ya got a better chance with that ugly ass dog of yours," he nodded over towards the sleeping pooch while tugging his shirt back down.

It was rare to see such a repulsed look on Wade's face as the man always seemed to be down for whatever but apparently messing with the dog was where he drew a line.

"Woah woah, that's just going too far now. You need therapy, my friend."

"Oh please. I forgot you were the fucking poster child for mental stability," Logan muttered as he lifted his legs to prop his bare feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

"Heyheyhey! What in the ever-living fuck do you think you are doing? That's where we cut up our Bolivian nose candy-"

"I thought Feige said ya can't talk about that."

"Well what Feige doesn't know won't hurt him. Now let's go. Chop chop. Feet off the table, bud," Wade scolded and kicked Logan in the leg as the man rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pulled his feet down.

"You are such a fucking caveman. That table is an antique. Furniture crafted from the finest-OOof!" Wade grunted in pain as Logan dropped his feet onto his lap with his heel coming down hard onto his groin, "Uh uh nope. Not happening. Feet off the Deadpool too."

"Well I gotta put 'em somewhere. What? Offended that ya weren't my first choice? Be flattered I finally found a good use for you," Logan smirked big time at the genuine outrage that now displayed on Wade's face.

"What the fuck do you mean?! You've seen what a phenomenal cook I am!"

"Almost burned down the apartment."

"I'm the king of late-night karaoke!"

"Got the cops called on us three times already."

"Well I'm good at making friends everywhere I go."

"I had to beat the shit out of all those bikers to get them off of you. Not to mention you almost got us banned from my favorite bar, you dumb fuck."

Wade started to pout from Logan shooting down all of his claims, but was quickly back to grinning as he thought of something that Logan couldn't possibly argue against.

"Okay, you know what? You wanna see something I'm good at? I'll show you something I'm very good at," Wade smirked and grabbed ahold of Logan's legs, securing his ankles in one arm as he began ruthlessly tickling the bottoms of his feet.

Logan lost any sense of calm he had as he immediately broke into a hysterical laughing fit, figuring out too late that he had made a huge mistake. There weren't many things in life that could get the Wolverine to lose his cool, but Wade Wilson the Tickle Monster never failed.

"Baahahahahahaha! Wahahahahade, dohohohon't!! Okaahaahaahaay! I'll mooohoohoove 'em!!"

Logan was far too buzzed to pull his usual act of fighting back his reactions and trying to pretend that he wasn't as horribly sensitive as he really was. Not that any of that ever discouraged Wade since he knew he'd always get him to crack eventually.

"Nah, that's okay. You just keep them right where they are, Giggles. Maybe this'll teach you some manners. Or not, that's okay too. I wouldn't want to run out of excuses to do this....," he scratched at the soles with Logan going nuts and frantically pulling at his captured legs while Wade's arm only squeezed tighter around them to ensure he wouldn't escape.

"Stahahahaaap, ya dihihihick! Fuhuhuhuckin' lehehehehe-lehehet me gohohohohooo!"

"What's that? Aww did you forget your safe word again? So confusing. How do I know if you really want me to stop or not?" The merc teased with his fingers scribbling at Logan's arches as the X-man's laughter surged in volume.

"Fuhuhuhuhuck you! Aaaheheeheeheehee nohohoho! Waahaait! I'm sohohohohorry!" He howled with tears already in his eyes as Wade found the weak spots under his toes; his body twisting and flopping around as he braced his arms on the couch in his clumsy attempts to get free.

Wade always enjoyed when Logan was in this state. Not only was he a lot less homicidal than if he was sober but he wasn't nearly as uptight and didn't even fight the tickles as hard. He practically just rolled over and took it and didn't hold much back.

He suspected that Logan didn't hate being tickled nearly as much as he made out and loved to tease him about it much to the older man's insistent denial of the fact. It's likely that Logan would rather die than ever admit something like that.

Wade then cleared his throat and began to speak in his best exaggerated Australian accent.

"Crikey mate! Here we have the Wolverine. Best known for its violent tendencies and natural ability to be a complete jackass. When confronted by a stronger and more powerful predator it begins to make the most adorable snorting sounds that are meant as a sign of his submission. Let's listen in, shall we?"

Logan had been belting out uncontrollable snorts all throughout his laughter and it was one of Wade's favorite things to poke fun at him for.

"Shhh-Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup! You're sohohohoho fuhuhucking stuhuhuhupid!"

"Oh, I'm fucking stupid? Who's the one making all the little piggy noises, Wilbur? Speaking of piggies....," Wade smirked as he started to play with his toes again, "This little piggy was an alcoholic....This little piggy was always so mean to his friend, Wade.....This little piggy talked shit about sweet little Dogpool....This little piggy..."

"Fuhuhuhuhuuuck! Alrihihihihight I gihihihive uhuhup! Haahahahaah! No-No mohohohore!" Logan had managed to pull a foot free and was now kicking Wade in the back as hard as he could, which wasn't very hard at all due his weakened state from laughing so much.

"No more? No MORE? Sorry, sweet cheeks. But I've got plenty more," Wade then threw his foot aside as he turned and dove onto Logan's prone form to now attack his very ticklish stomach, "That was for treating me like an object! This is for saying I'm not funny!"

Wade snickered with glee as the feral man expelled a less than manly squeal of giggles and immediately curled into a protective ball, though all attempts to evade were useless. Deadpool was positively relentless.

"Nooooohohohohohoo nohohohot thehehehehere! Okahahaay you're funny! You're fuhuhuhuhuhunnyyyyyaaahahahahahaaStaahahahahahaaap!"

"Oh sure! All of a sudden I'm just magically funny now! Don't insult my intelligence! You can't bullshit a bullshitter!" Wade managed to get his hands underneath Logan's shirt, raking his fingers up and down his bare stomach and forcing him to dissolve into a lengthy, mirthful wheeze.

"Why are you so ticklish? Is it part of your mutation? A result of a Weapon X experiment gone horribly wrong? Talk, damn you! I need answers!"

Not that Wade actually expected him to answer, but Logan was laughing entirely too hard and fighting it even less. He had his head thrown back in hysterics that exposed his oversized canines, writhing feebly while tears were leaking down his reddened cheeks.

It was a sight to see the normally powerful X-man rendered helpless from such a soft touch, but it just goes to prove that healing factors and big muscles were completely useless against a tickle attack.

Wade would have loved to keep tickling him all night, and he knew the man technically could take it with the high amount of stamina he possessed, but it was time to let him go now and save it for another time. Logan had been a good sport, and he didn't want to push it too far.

Pulling his hands back he now stood triumphantly hovering over the still giggling and plastered Wolverine, who kept his body all curled up in case the crazy merc decided to come for him again.

"Are you sure you're the Wolverine of legends? I mean, this isn't exactly what I had pictured. If I hadn't personally seen you in action then I'd have some serious doubts," he smirked as Logan finally relaxed and slowly splayed out on the couch.

"Heehehehe-That's the worst Wolverine to you, bub. You-hehehee-fucking suck," Logan continued to giggle as he struggled to fight off the dizzying high of the combined tickle assault mixed with the alcohol in his bloodstream. Wade was pleased to see he hadn't soured his mood.

"But do I swallow is the real question? Hehehe, sorry, I couldn't help myself. Now did you learn your lesson, you drunken idiot?"

Logan regained some sense of focus as he slowly sat up and looked up at Wade with the most cocky grin.

"Of course not. Gonna take a lot more than that, fucker."

"Do not tempt me, Peanut. I showed you mercy this time, but I cannot guarantee this next round I will be as charitable," Wade smirked and cracked his knuckles, surprised to see Logan lean back onto the couch with his arms folded behind his head.

"Pffft. You don't fuckin' scare me. You can do your worst. Though I'm sorry to say you're not gonna get the chance. Ya wanna know why?"

"Why?" Wade practically demanded with his hands on his hips.

"That's why." Logan lifted a hand to point behind Wade as the merc whirled around to confront what may have got the drop on him and found.....nothing. Nobody.

"Wait a minute.....did I really just fall for the oldest trick in the bo-AAAHCK!" Wade let out a scream as he was pounced from behind by a playfully growling Wolverine and landed hard on his stomach with his face hitting the floor. He had seriously misjudged the other man's current ability to fight back.

"Heheh, you really are a fucking idiot. Now let's see how you like this shit...," Logan immediately dug into Wade's ribs from where he sat perched on his back and was more than thrilled by the scream that ripped out of the merc's mouth. He knew there was no way a loudmouth like Wade wouldn't be ticklish.

"Nohohooo Logan wahahahahaait! Ahahaheeheehehehehe! You cahahahan't tihihihickle meheheee! I'm-I'm the 'ler! Nohohot yooooou!"

"The what? What the hell are ya talkin' about now?" Logan didn't let up though while Wade tried to sputter out an explanation.

"The cohohohommunity! Ihihihit's a thihihiing! I g-guess tehehehechnically I'm a swihihihihitch buhuhuhut stihihill!"

Logan raised his brows, looking more confused than before as he ended up just shrugging it off and shaking his head.

"Nevermind. I really don't wanna know. Now shut up and laugh, asshole," Logan's big hands ran up and down his sides, squeezing his waist and making it back up into his armpits as Wade flailed and shrieked and desperately tried to clamp his arms down.

Logan couldn't help but laugh at Wade's reactions with how he had barely started in on him yet.

"Geez. Have ya really been this fucking ticklish this whole time? Looks like we've got some time to make up for," his fingers fluttered around under Wade's arms, producing wild cackles as he wriggled like a worm and tried to scoot across the floor.

"Get off get off! Nooohahahahahaha! I'm nohohohohot tihihihicklish! I'm nohohohohohohot!"

"Well if you're not ticklish then all this shouldn't be botherin' ya, right? Or do you prefer me stabbin' ya better?" Logan smirked as he used the three middle fingers on each hand to simulate his claws as he repeatedly poked at Wade's ribcage with rapid fire speed, "Hehe, now you're dead."

"Gaahaahahahahaha!! Nohohohohot the clahahahahaws! Mehehehehercy!" Wade begged, trying to reach behind him to smack Logan's hands away. Spoiler alert, it didn't work.

"Mercy? Ha! That's a fuckin' good one. Hey, whaddya know. I guess you are funny after all. Hehehe, tickle tickle tickle, fuckface."

Wade's hysterics were increasing in volume by the second and Logan snorted in amusement at the thought that they might get the cops called on them for a suspected murder happening in the apartment.

"Holy shit. Keep it down, will ya? You're gonna wake the-"

"What in the name of Satan's asshole is that horrible noise?!?!" Blind Al shouted in annoyance as she wandered into the room and nearly tripped over the two men roughhousing on the floor.

"Blind Al! Blind Ahahahahal! Hehehehelp mehehehehe!" Wade screamed as he managed to roll over underneath Logan and reach out a desperate hand towards his elderly roommate.

"You're such a dick. Ya know ya don't have to emphasize that she's blind all the time, ya inconsiderate moron," Logan rolled his eyes with a smile as he now had better access to Wade's ribs and stomach and dug right in.

"Baahahahah-Buhuhuhut thahahat's her nahahahahame! B-Becahahahause she's blihihihind! Gehehehet ihihit?!"

The older woman's lips pursed with disdain.

"Please keep torturing him. I will sleep good tonight knowing that stupid motherfucker is suffering," she gently patted Logan on the shoulder as she turned around and made her way out of the room.

"You got it, boss lady," Logan nodded with a smirk and scratched furiously at Wade's stomach, easily avoiding the flailing hands trying to stop him.

"Blihihihihind Al! Aahahhahahha! You trahahahaahaahaitor! Ahahahafter ahahall I've d-dohohohone for yooohoou!"

"Maybe you could gag his bitch ass too," she yelled back over her shoulder, making Logan chuckle.

"She's got a point. You're loud as fuck. Always makin' fun of how I snort while you're over here shrieking like a fuckin' little girl."

With that, Wade was struck with inspiration as he thought of a way to get Logan to stop.

"Yehehehes! Oh yehehehes Lohohohogan! Dohohohn't stop! Th-Thahahat's ihihihit! Tihihihickle me! Tihihickle mehehehe untihihihil I pahahahass ouhohout!" Wade pretended to moan between his laughs as he put his hands flat against the floor to demonstrate that he had no intention of preventing the tickling, though it was a major struggle for him to keep them there.

Logan tilted his head as he stared down at Wade in bemusement.

"Can't tell if you're tryin' to psyche me out into stopping, or if you really do like it that much. I wouldn't put it past ya to actually enjoy being tickled. Not the weirdest thing about you. Either way, if ya say not stop then I won't," Logan smirked and proceeded to tickle him even harder as he kneaded into his hips.

"Noooooohohohoooo! Okaahahaay! I lihihihied! I cahahahan't tahahahahake it! Pleasepleaseplease stooohahahahoooop!" Wade squealed and kicked his legs around and uselessly tried to grab at the other man's wrists to pry him off.

"Now was that really a lie? Are ya sure it wasn't an educated wish?" Logan loved to bring that stupid shit up every once in a while, knowing it would get under Wade's skin.

"So fuhuhuhunny I forgohohot to lahahahaugh, ahahahasshole! Nohohow gehehet off meeeheeheeheee! You fuhuhuhucking mahahahade yohohohour point!"

Logan was about to make another quip when he heard loud barking and turned his head to see Dogpool come flying over the back of the couch towards them in superhero slow-motion.

She then rushed in to grab Wade by the hair as she pulled with all of her tiny body weight trying to free him.

"Yehehehes! Mary Puhuhuhuppins! Saahahahave pa-pa! Thaahahahat's it!"

"Yeah.....that dog weighs like eight pounds. Hehehe, don't think you're getting away from me just yet, bub," Logan snickered as he dragged Wade closer and plunged his fingers into his armpits, earning another shriek as the merc futilely clamped his arms down and thrashed even harder.

"Looohohohogaaan staaahahahahahahap! I'm-I'm sohohohohoh glahahad to seeheehee-ahahahahhah-see yohohou ehehehembrace thihihis sss-sihihide of you buhuhuhut-AAAAHH! FUHUHUHUCK!!"

A loud ripping sound was heard as Logan looked up in wonderment to see Wade with a hand gripped to his now bald head as Dogpool stood there with his whole hair piece in her mouth.

Logan couldn't help it. The sight of Wade laying there with those fucking staples sticking out of his head and the dog now gnawing on his toupee like a chew toy was just too comical.

He started to laugh. Really laugh. Laughing too damn hard to keep tickling Wade as he literally fell over, holding his sides while his whole body shook in uncontrollable guffaws.

Wade was finally able to sit up as he glared at his hysterical friend, but he had a smile on his face too.

"Really?! That's what makes you laugh?! You seeing me getting hurt is funny to you? Pretty fucked up, you sado," he pretended to sound annoyed, but really he was anything but. It was rare to see Logan laugh like this besides when Wade was tickling him half to death so he'd let him have this for the moment.

Still he had to strike back somehow for this indignity.

"Puppins attack! Kill, my little munchkin! Kill!" Wade shouted as the dog rushed towards the fallen man and jumped onto him. But Dogpool didn't have a mean bone in her body and only knew how to attack with love as she affectionately licked Logan's face much to his aversion.

"Blech! Wahahade! Gehet your dohohog!" He bellowed as he continued to laugh, but other than trying to shield his face with his arms he didn't do much to stop her.

"Okay okay, come here, sweetie pie. Lets get you away from the bad man who tried to kill your pa-pa," Wade reached over and pulled her off of him, setting her into his lap.

Logan finally fought down the giggles as he sat up to find Wade staring longingly at the destroyed toupee in his hand. He kind of felt bad for the guy and thought he should offer some words of encouragement.

"Yeah, that thing's fucked. Big time. But hey, I think you look better without it," he nodded, using his shirt to wipe off his face as Wade gave him a genuine smile.

"You're only saying that because you're drunk," the merc teased back as Logan shrugged in response and grinned broadly.

"You're probably right. I wouldn't touch ya with a ten foot pole."

"That's okay. I don't mind doing all the touching...," Wade gave him a quick squeeze on the side as Logan snorted and lurched away from his reach and got to his feet.

"Don't fucking start that again. I'd say we're even now. Besides, you don't wanna fuck with me now that I know how damn ticklish you are. It's a stalemate. We can put this all behind us and move on. Now if ya don't mind I'd like to get some sleep," he waved the other man away as he grabbed some blankets off the back of the couch to set up his sleeping area.

Wade just smirked as he began walking out of the room with Dogpool in his arms.

"Silly silly Wolvie. I'm not sure you realize the implications of your actions. But I'm afraid this is far from over. You, my friend, have just started a war."

Logan's face fell as he only stared back at Wade in wide-eyed silence.

"Nighty night, Peanut. Sweet dreams," Wade smirked devilishly, waving with wiggling fingers as he flicked off the light switch on the wall.

#ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #ticklish!wade #ticklish!deadpool #lee!logan #lee!wolverine #lee!wade #lee!deadpool #ler!wolverine #ler!logan #ler!wade #ler!deadpool #deadpool tickle #wolverine tickle #tickle fic

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

Text

seventeen and saying “I love you” for the first time

PAIRING. seventeen (ot13) x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, slight angst?, headcanons/scenarios, established/implied hidden relationship, idol au WARNINGS. some kissing, consistent terms of endearment, just absolute softness dude. WORD COUNT. 3.4k

requested by anon: hi hiii i love your writings and i see the reqs is open. so how do you think svt would say 'i love you' for the first time? like, they're people who's being supervised all the time and very busy, so they're pretty hesitant about whether the relationship will work out or not but then he realizes that it means so much to him after some time.

notes: i hope i manage to capture ur request well aaaa i’m not confident. for this i wrote a lil scenario under each member instead of the usual long ass descriptions, but i thinki veered off the request oops and they get more silly as you read more LOL. sorry this took such a long time and if it seems repetitive! i started running out of ideas alksjderj

choi seungcheol

“Y/N, you don’t need to𑁋”

“cheol, I insist,” you bring your hands to his shoulders, directly him to lay down on the bed. “just rest up, please. let me cook for us tonight, okay?”

seungcheol could only watch as you disappear into the kitchen, coming back in with a steaming bowl of soup. the constant practice and performances ultimately made the stress hit him at once. and you being you, took this as the opportunity to take care of him.

you sit down at the edge, carefully lifting a spoonful of soup and before bringing it to him, grinning at the satisfied hum that leaves his lips.

as you continue feeding him, you ramble on about your day, and he could only listen. it’s these moments he’s grown to cherish where the stresses of his other life dissipate and he lets himself be taken care of, but these burdening feelings for you lingers.

you’ve constantly assured him that taking care of him was a way to show that you want this relationship as much as he does, despite all the consequences. it always brings a certain flutter to his heart, almost like a hug he’s always needed. he’s known the feeling for a while now.

he doesn’t realise you’ve finished talking as he sees you stand up, but he’s quick to grab your hand.

“wait, uh,” he starts, and you see the hesitation flicker in his face for a moment. pursing his lips together, he looks back up at you with nothing but adoration. “you know that I love you, right?”

you blink, nearly dropping the bowl from the way your hands grow limp at his words.

“well,” you smile shyly. “now I do.”

yoon jeonghan

“angel? what are you doing?”

“me?” you ask as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious you were the only person in the room. “just folding your laundry.”

jeonghan can’t help the smile to his face as he enters into the bedroom, placing himself down next to you at the edge of the bed. he could lay down if he wanted to; he finds his body exhausted from rehearsal. but he doesn’t want to lay down yet, at least not without you.

“what do you say I drop by your dressing room before your performance?” you ask him with nothing but hopefulness.

he lifts a brow. “are you sure? don’t you have work tomorrow?”

you smile at him, folding up his last shirt. “nope. called in sick so I can attend your stage. thought you’d need me to charge you up with energy, you know?”

jeonghan’s heart does a particular leap. for nearly every performance that you visit him at, he finds himself continuously clinging onto you for good energy and support. he does it out of spite, simply because he loves the feeling of your body, your warmth, your love against him, like a constant reminder that you are there, and you are real.

“I think I’d love that very much.” he sits closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist once you place his folded shirt down, pulling you closer to him.

and he knows he’s done for when he hears those giggles leave your mouth.

so he leans in close, whispering something in your ear he has always wanted to say for the longest time now.

“but not as much as I love you.”

joshua hong

no matter what day it was, joshua always finds himself waking up in the mornings before you do. even after an exhausting day of rehearsal the previous night, he still wakes up before you.

his eyes flutter open as he peers in your direction, a soft smile crossing his face at the sight of your chest heaving up and down rhythmically. he doesn’t want to disturb you, but you’re just so darn cute and beautiful, and the rest of the day is fortunately free for the two of you.

“sweetheart,” he lets a finger poke lightly at your nose, smirking to the way it crinkles from his touch. “wake up, remember it’s my day off today?”

“mmmh,” you grumble, playfully batting away his hand with yours. “ten more minutes.”

joshua knows he can’t get himself to resist you, so he lays back down in bed directly across from you. he doesn’t fall back asleep, instead only lets his eyes wander admiringly over your features, and he thinks he can wake up like this next to you for the rest of his life, even with his busy career.

he knows the consequences when it comes to love, but he’s willing to love you to himself all he can.

leaning in, he presses a tender kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I love you.” he mutters quietly, and he catches sight of the subtle lift at the corner of your lips.

wen junhui

you find jun napping soundly on the couch. or so you think he is, because the moment you approach up to him, you find a pair of arms lodging around your waist and pulling you into the couch, a surprised yelp leaving your mouth.

“jun! oh my god𑁋what are you𑁋”

“you’re finally home, my little blanket~”

“you are ridiculous,” you murmur annoyingly, but end up naturally relaxing in his arms anyway like you always do. pressing up against him, you let your head fall to the crook of his neck, where it seems to fit perfectly. “long day today?”

you feel the rise and fall of his chest, a deep sigh leaving his lips.

“just tired,” he responds. “but better now that you’re here.”

you smile against his skin. “you know you count on me for anything, right?”

there’s some silence, a silence thick with unspoken thoughts, but it’s mainly jun who can feel it. he knows he can, knows he can tell you anything that comes to his mind and that you’ll listen. it’s just... a bit terrifying being this intimate, this in love with you knowing it can jeopardise his career. but he’s already in deep. he knows he is.

“can I tell you something?” he asks, voice laced with nervousness.

he feels you nod in his embrace.

taking in a deep breath, he pulls back to be able to see you.

“I... I love you,” he confesses, feeling the heaviness lift off his heart. “been wanting to say that for a while.”

and if it was possible for your heart to smile as well, nothing stops you from kissing him.

kwon soonyoung

“would we still be together if I was on a five-year long tour?”

“mhm.”

“what if I had to move countries?”

“of course.”

“even if I turn into a tiger?”

“surprisingly, yes.”

a pause.

“...would we still be together if I wasn’t an idol?”

“a million times yes, soonie.” you grab his soft face in your hands, giving a gentle squeeze to his cheeks. “I can assure you we would still be together no matter what.”

that was all the reassurance he needed. soonyoung can’t help the excitement bubbling in his chest as he’s quick to lean in and pepper your face with kisses, causing chuckles to elicit out your lips as you fall down on the couch behind with your boyfriend hovering above you, staring down at you with loving eyes and a goofy, lovesick smile.

“gosh, I love you so much, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips. “and I’m gonna tell you that for the rest of the night.”

jeon wonwoo

“no, no, what if someone saw us? I should have been more careful, I’m so sorry𑁋”

“Y/N,” wonwoo’s voice is firm and demanding, and you make yourself shut up. “it’s okay.”

“but𑁋”

“darling,” he grabs your hand into his, letting the other drift up to cup your cheek softly. “we’ll be okay, I can promise you.”

“I𑁋but what if this ruins your career?” you ask him, feeling the way his fingers are caressing over your knuckles. it calms you down just a bit. “what if me accidentally holding your hand just...”

wonwoo sighs and leads you over to the couch where you both settle yourselves down next to each other. he knows the probable consequences of getting caught, but he cares more about you than what some stupid news dispatch claims. they can say anything, and he’d still be willing to protect you more than himself.

“don’t be scared, okay? even if we were caught...” he hesitates, lips forming a thin line as you wait for him to continue. “it still doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with you, because I love you, and I want this. I want you.”

you feel your lips quiver, some streams of tears running down your face. you can’t get the words out, so you bring him in your embrace for a warm hug, hoping to convey how much you love him as well.

lee jihoon

“babe, this sounds great.”

jihoon just smiles proudly, posture leaned back in his chair as he watches your head bob up and down to the melodies and the sound of his beautiful vocals traveling throughout his studio. you have a hand at the tip of his knee, giving him gentle squeezes each time you got more into the music.

if only you knew that you were a source of inspiration for too many of his songs. too many that he could count.

“thank you,” he says sheepishly. “I managed to whip it up in two hours and was thinking about bringing up with the others.”

“if I love it, I’m sure they will too,” you reach over to grab his hand ressuringly. “and I’m not being biased, I’m serious.”

there’s a particular shift in his grin that you notice. it feels more... fond, moreso admiration even though you should be the one admiring him for this. though jihoon has his challenges in voicing his emotions, sometimes you can just tell from his face.

“okay, I should head home,” you stand up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “call me later, alright?”

“text me when you get home safe,” he tells you, helping with grabbing your belongings before walking you to the door. once you’re in the door frame, he lowly mutters out under his breath, “...I love you.”

you catch it, but just barely, yet you unconsciously respond with, “I love you too,” before turning back to him with a look of shock and wide eyes. “wait, what?”

xu minghao

a yawn leaves minghao’s mouth as he inputs the code to his apartment. but when he steps inside, he’s immediately met with the familiar aroma of food lingering around him coming from the kitchen. when he walks himself into the kitchen, his eyes grow wide.

“Y/N?” his voice makes you freeze as if you were caught committing a crime, letting his gaze fall to the dining table. “what’s all this?”

“shoot, I didn’t expect for you to come home early,” you scratch at your head, placing down the dish in your hands before walking up to him. “I... uh, tried cooking some of your favourite foods. it was supposed to be a surprise.”

minghao just smiles and approaches up to the dining table with you cowering behind him nervously. his eyes scan over the array of dishes meticulously prepared with love and care, feeling like a fresh wave of home hitting him.

“you know you didn’t have to grow through all this trouble for me.” he turns back to you.

“I know, but I do,” you tell him with a heartfelt smile. “it’s just... a way to show how much I care when you’re gone, since you always come home tired.”

his face only softens. stepping up to you, he places both of his hands firmly at your waist, and he feels you tense up for a split moment before finally relaxing. brushing back some stray hairs from your face, a grateful sigh leaves his lips.

“I love you,” he tells you, suddenly feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “thank you for everything you do for me.”

kim mingyu

“gyu, get off me.”

“no can do.”

“but you have to go to work.”

“you are more important than work.”

you haven’t had your morning coffee, and your puppy of a boyfriend won’t get off of you, finding most of his body sprawled on top of yours so you’re basically flattened to the bed. at least he had the decency to give you some room to breathe and move, but just barely.

he’s clingy, but not this early in the morning𑁋well it’s usually after you’ve had your morning coffee, but it’s clear you haven’t yet and he’s been glued to you since the moment you woke up. you feel his lips meet the skin of your face, planting soft kisses on your cheeks and forehead to try and coax a smile out of you.

“you’re... suffocating me, gyu.” you squirm just a bit, before his arms circle around you, and you find himself laying right next you on the bed.

“sorry,” he nestles himself up against you. “just don’t want to leave you.”

you run a hand through his messy hair, peering down wonderingly at the way he’s cuddling himself against you. “is everything okay? you’re not usually this clingy. well, you are it’s just𑁋”

“if I say it, will I get a kiss?” he sits up in bed, gazing at you with those desperate eyes that you just have to cave in.

you sigh. “yes, you big boy, I’ll give you any kiss you want.”

mingyu bites at his bottom lip nervously, knowing he has to get it out or else he can’t take it anymore. it’s all that ever clouds his thoughts whenever he takes a single glance at you. he knows it all: the consequences, the hate comments, but the only thing that could break his heart would be to separate from you.

and so he leans in, his breath grazing against the skin behind your ear.

“it’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone,” he whispers. “but I love you.”

lee seokmin

“seokie?”

immediately, seokmin takes his attention of his phone to turn towards you, a mixture of worry to his face. he sets his phone on the bedside table to give you his undivided attention.

“what’s wrong, sunshine?” he asks you, already opening his arms for you to settle in.

you give in, allowing the protection of his arms encircle around you.

“nothing, it’s just...” you glance up at him. “do you think you can sing me to sleep?”

for some reason the simple request was enough to send seokmin’s heart into overdrive. nothing but a wide smile crosses his face as he nods, allowing you to settle back down on the pillow as he props himself up on his elbow next to you.

he starts to hum a slow lullaby, containing a familiar melody of a seventeen song that you recognise. his voice carries an undertone of affection, his words unspoken yet deeply felt. he watches the way your eyes flutter to a close as he begins to reach the end of his lullaby. if it was possible and if you’d let him, seokmin knew he could do this for the rest of his life. he wants to use his voice to not only bring joy to his fans, but to convey the love in his heart.

at the very last line of the song, he leans in close to be able to whisper in your ear.

“I love you so much, sunshine. dream about me, okay?”

boo seungkwan

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” there’s a mixture of surprise and a hint of panic in seungkwan’s voice as he notices you standing at the entrance of the rehearsal room. luckily it was only him and his members in the room.

“I was in the area, so... I brought you some food,” you hold up a bag from behind your back. “wish I could have brought more for the other guys, but... yeah.”

his eyes widen from your thoughtfulness as you reach an arm out to transfer the bag from your hands to his, and he swears he can feel his heart swell beyond his own chest.

you peer behind him to the other guys laughing and minding their own business, while seungkwan in front of you seems completely frozen in time. there’s a blush to his cheeks that you notice and reach out to pinch, making him come back to reality.

you give him a smile. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

but as you are about to turn around, he exclaims, “wait!”

and when you look back at him, he feels his tongue go dry. he’s been rehearsing this line for the past few weeks𑁋in front of the mirror and everything𑁋but your gaze on him always makes those words land right at the tip of his tongue, unable to come out.

“uh...” then he steps up closer, glancing back towards the guys before back at you. even though it may not be the right time and the right place to say this, he does anyway, “I love you, thank you for the food.”

you can’t help the chuckle to your lips as his face turns even redder, and the kiss that you place to his warm cheek doesn’t help at all.

vernon chwe

“hey, babe.”

“hey.”

it’s the only exchange you and vernon share before he drops himself on the bed, letting his head rest in your lap, a contented sigh leaving him. naturally, you run your fingers through his hair. you can tell that he’s tired from today.

you and vernon have always had the ability to see how the other feels without words. he can see a quiver to your lips and tell you are frustrated, or you can collapse in his arms and he’ll let you hold him while he’s doing something else to recharge.

but he’s been too quiet lately, you’ve noticed, only exchanging the simple hello’s, goodbye’s, and kisses to each other’s lips without saying anything more since he had to rush work. it’s been troubling you, but him laying in your lap has relieved you... sort of.

“everything okay?” you ask him. “you’ve been... awfully quiet today.”

“yeah, just... work, you know?” he answers, but you can sense the hesitation in his words.

you think for a moment, before asking, “want to talk about it?”

vernon pauses, and you feel like you can physically see him thinking. he sits up from your lap, criss-crossing his legs together before turning around and facing you.

“um, you don’t have to respond, but uh...” he rubs the back of his neck meekly. “...would you freak out if I told you that I love you?”

you stare at him blankly, or lovingly, you don’t know, but you feel your heart doing jumps inside your chest and it’s starting to hurt.

“I’m freaking out from how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

lee chan

“I love you, Y/N,” chan announces... to the mirror at himself. “or should it be like, ‘I’m in love with you’ or ‘I want to spend the rest of time’𑁋agh, that sounds so cheesy.”

he brings his hands up to his face frustratingly. why is it so hard to simply say how he feels about you TO you? he’s known how he feels for a long time, even with the other members constantly telling him how he has to be careful and all that, or how something like this could make or break his career, but chan know they’re just looking out for him.

he’s been torn between his career and your relationship, knowing both are equally important to him. but the longer he’s been with you, the more this feeling bubbles inside of him.

“I’m in... love with you,” chan tests. “I love you with𑁋”

“chan?”

“𑁋oh gosh!” chan yelps out, turning his body around and noticing you through slightly open doorway of the bathroom.

you furrow your brows, eyes flicking over your boyfriend’s forced smile. “are you okay? I thought I heard muttering.”

“yeah, I was just... rehearsing my speech,” chan pauses for a second. “...just in case we win today?”

you roll your eyes. “cute,” then approach up to him, fixing some of his strands of hair with your finger. “I wish I can make it to your stage to support you, but I know you’ll kill it anyway.”

you tell him something about your work, but chan only keeps his eyes fixated on you. and as you were about to leave, he swiftly grabs your hand.

“Y/N,” chan starts, and you see him noticeably swallow. “you know you mean a lot to me, right?”

you turn back to him, intrigued. “I sure hope I do.”

“okay, and since you mean a lot to me, I know you’ve been my number one support,” he continues, feeling all the words spilling out. “and you’re just... so pretty, so funny, you always make me smile, and I think that... I love you. not think! I do... love you.”

you could only stare at him, wide-eyed, pinpointing the vulnerability in his own eyes, and you feel your heart swell enough to bloom a smile on your face.

planting a kiss to the corner of his lips, you utter out, “I love you too, chan.”

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao

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your-local-simp-writers · 5 months ago

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The Heartbeat of Nekoma

Word Count: 809

Warnings: None

Headcanons: Nekoma x Fem! Manager ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The gymnasium of Nekoma High was alive with the sound of volleyballs thumping against the floor, the sharp whistle of the coach, and the occasional cheer or groan from the team. In the midst of this controlled chaos was Y/N, the team’s manager and the only girl among these lions. She moved with a purpose, her clipboard clutched in one hand and a first aid kit swinging from the other.

Kenma Kozume, usually lost in his own world, often found himself watching Y/N. Her ability to anticipate the team’s needs before they even voiced them was something he admired silently. He didn’t say much, but when he did, she always listened, her nods and thoughtful hums encouraging him to share more than he usually would. She knew exactly when to offer a silent nod of encouragement or a gentle nudge to join the team’s activities. Her notes on his gameplay were always precise, helping him refine his strategies without a word wasted.

Tetsurou Kuroo, with his wild hair and wilder schemes, relied on Y/N to keep him grounded. She had a knack for cutting through his antics with a sharp word or a pointed look, bringing him back to the task at hand. Yet, she was always there to share a laugh or a moment of triumph, her presence a steady beat in the rhythm of the team.

Lev Haiba, his enthusiasm often got the better of him, leading to more than his fair share of scrapes and bruises. Y/N was always there, her first aid kit at the ready, her gentle chiding mingling with Lev’s sheepish apologies. “You’re like a guardian angel,” he’d say, and she’d roll her eyes but smile all the same while she patched up another scrape. Her gentle scolding about being careful was something he secretly looked forward to.

Morisuke Yaku, the team’s rock, appreciated Y/N’s quiet strength. Her meticulous records helped him track his progress, and her motivational words before matches always seemed to strike the right chord, pushing him to dive deeper and reach further.

Taketora Yamamoto, would often find himself pouring out his heart to Y/N, her easy manner inviting confidences. She listened with an open heart, her advice always practical yet kind. She reminded him that fire needed air to burn bright, a lesson he took to heart both on and off the court.

Nobuyuki Kai, the vice-captain, saw Y/N as the glue that held the team together. Her organizational skills ensured that every practice ran smoothly, and her ability to juggle responsibilities was nothing short of miraculous.

Shouhei Fukunaga, ever the quiet observer, found a kindred spirit in Y/N. Their conversations were often just shared glances and knowing smiles, but the understanding between them ran deep. He enjoyed the quiet moments he shared with her, often helping her collect the volleyballs after practice. Her soft-spoken advice resonated with him, teaching him that strength didn’t always have to be loud.

Sō Inuoka, loved Y/N’s encouraging pep talks. Her pep talks were the fuel to his fire, her words igniting a passion for the game that he channeled into every leap and dive.

Coach Yasufumi Nekomata, saw Y/N as a rare gem, her dedication to the team’s well-being reminding him of the true spirit of the sport. Their discussions on strategy and player development were highlights of his day, her insights often illuminating paths he hadn’t considered.

Despite her involvement in other clubs and her tendency to stretch herself thin, Y/N never let it show. The team knew, though. They saw the exhaustion hidden behind her smile and the way her eyes would sometimes flutter shut during long strategy meetings.

It was during one such after school practice that Y/N’s head began to nod, her pen slipping from her fingers. Kenma was the first to notice, gently propping her up with a cushion. Kuroo signaling for a break, Lev draping a jacket over her like a blanket. Yaku adjusted the air conditioning to ensure she was comfortable, and Yamamoto stood guard, ensuring no one disturbed her rest. As Y/N slept, the team exchanged looks of silent agreement. They would finish practice early today. It was their turn to take care of the person who always took care of them.

When Y/N awoke, she found herself surrounded by her team, their practice finished, each face wearing a soft smile. “We’ve got it from here,” Kuroo said, handing her a bottle of water. “You’ve done enough for today.” Her heart swelled with affection for these boys, her team. Kai “You take care of us; now let us take care of you.” They were more than just players she managed; they were her family. And as they walked out of the gym together, she knew that together, they were unstoppable.

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 7 months ago

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okay unhinged essay about ragatha probably #1 idk i don't think this is all of my thoughts but here's what i could actually put down

i think the most surprising thing for me Personally is getting a lot of my interpretations of ragatha correct ? like . the thing that almost destroyed my motivation for this blog is the fear that my unhinged overanalyzation of her mannerisms in the pilot were Wrong - i actually thought about canceling everything when i was off from canon - but now ... yeah i'm not doing that

i guess it's just that we had so little of her in the first episode that i thought i was Manifesting her issues but Nope she really is this much of a Loser

first of all ! i suspected that she has low self-esteem but Goodness Gracious !! i didn't expect it to be Actually almost non-existent ?? like i thought i was Exaggerating for this blog but no , no person with a normal amount of self-esteem would Warp an incident so much in their head that they somehow believe something going wrong is Their Fault .

like she's so focused on pomni the entire episode because she Genuinely believes that the fiasco in the first day was her fault ( even though IT WASN'T , but she's really that used to quickly blaming herself ) and wants to make it up to her . but of course pomni is still adjusting and is Overwhelmed by everything ( which is understandable ) so she's not really in the mood for ragatha's bullshit

but with how ragatha reacts and what she subsequently tells kinger - she read those more as ' i do not like you ' than ' i am too fatigued to care about anything right now ' which is such a Large leap , but considering she was the one who Apologized to pomni for giving her a stressful first day ( which was COMPLETELY out of her control , ) it makes sense that she assumes that pomni has something against her - which was not helped by how none of ragatha's attempts of starting a friendship were reciprocated

i do understand why she would Think it's her fault - as pomni's a newcomer and More Stress is the last thing she needs , especially in her first day - but ' oh she doesn't like me ' is still Such a hasty conclusion that someone who already ... Doesn't Like Themself would jump to .

of course i can't not talk about the potential history between her and kinger . through their dialogue you can tell that ragatha's one of those people that took a batshit long time to truly adjust to the circus - which has a lot of interesting implications . with how she seems to understand the process of finding an exit in episode 1 , it explains a lot . my girl was so Not well when she entered the circus .

honestly it's just nice seeing that ragatha at least has Some support despite her being the one who holds everything together - it makes the ending impactful in my opinion ; they do really care for each other and will be saddened if one of them is gone .

also of course she asked if everyone's alright despite having a cleaver to the head ...

something that also has been nagging me for a long time is how much she always gets the short end of the stick . like , literally every time she's on screen , she Has To Get Harmed in some way . i would brush this off as slapstick when her official pin doesn't have her HAVING A KNIFE TO THE CHEST ???

Maybe it's just slapstick . maybe with her having parallels to kaufmo considering how he's said to be a goofy toxic positivity type guy like ragatha and is the one that has abstracted thus far is just a coincidence and doesn't speak levels to what might become inevitable as the series goes on ,

#[ ooc ]#[ ESSAY WARNING ]#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc spoilers #the amazing digital circus spoilers #tadc ragatha #||#couldn't find a way to fit this into the post but #something about her just screams ' abandonment issues ' and i don't think i have enough evidence to prove it but . the feeling's there

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pinchofhoney · 1 year ago

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broken promises, part three

« part one | part two | part three (the last one)

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warning: angst, we used to be close but people can go from people you know to people you don't, mention of helping in the rebellion

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: so,, this is the end of this little story of a heartbreak. thank you for sticking with it<33 for more coriolanus content, feel free to drop by my inbox where you can leave your ideas for the next oneshots!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns @mavkaorlova @strangegril002 @thathoefromcollage

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

You'd be lying if you pretended not to be invested in the 10th Hunger Games. With Academy students participating this year, you had no choice but to follow the competition's every twist and turn, but even if it had been different, you'd have still tuned in from your home's television screen.

Despite the heated exchanges and angry words directed at Coriolanus, your best wishes were always with him. You genuinely hoped for nothing but the best for him, believing he'd achieve the deserved success he'd strived for and reach his craved scholarship, a gateway to boundless opportunities. In your heart, you rooted for Lucy Gray Baird's victory, as that seemed to be the only path leading to Coriolanus's dreams coming true.

Seeing Coriolanus each day in his perfectly fitted Academy uniform, hiding behind a facade of indifference that he never pull off around anyone outside his inner circle, playing the part of the model student, brought you pain. He gave off the impression that your past relationship had left no mark on him, leaving you in the dark about his true emotions and what was going on within his mind for the first time.

You were aware that everyone in your class had picked up on the shift between you and Coriolanus, though they tactfully avoided discussing it openly. You appreciated their silent understanding; no one was prying, and it allowed you to avoid discussing the painful change that had taken place. You didn't owe anyone an explanation, but it was easier to bear the weight of the situation when it remained unspoken. It stung to know that some girl from the District now held a more important place in your boyfriend's heart than you, someone he had known since childhood and shared the darkest moments of his life with.

The breakup with Coriolanus hit you like someone’s death. When you returned to the family penthouse, tears flowed endlessly from your eyes, and you couldn't seem to stop them. The persistent crying left you dehydrated, lying on your bed, cocooned in a blanket, your eyes red and swollen, and a pounding headache. The idea of consuming even a morsel of food felt impossible, and every inch of your room was a constant reminder of the moments you had shared with Coriolanus.

At times, you really wanted to approach him, to take the blame, to apologize for reacting hastily and to tell him that you should have let him handle things. But he treated you as if you were transparent. He had to feel your gaze on him, yet he chose to act as if you didn't exist, focusing all his attention on the Arena's broadcast screens, eagerly awaiting Lucy Gray's appearance.

As soon as the victory of the tribute from the Twelfth District became evident, you leaped to your feet, a genuine smile lighting up your face. Joining in the cheers and applause of your friends, you felt an urge to rush towards Coriolanus, but the memory of his distant gaze held you back. You knew you were no longer part of his happiness, no longer someone he wanted to share joy with.

With a lump in your throat, you discreetly cleared it, glancing around at other students. They seemed too absorbed in their own celebrations to notice your abrupt outburst. And so, you continued clapping, though the enthusiasm had waned, and the smile on your lips had dimmed.

You watched as Festus and a few other students hoisted Coriolanus onto a chair and paraded him around the podium and when they eventually placed him back on the ground, he turned his gaze toward you for the first time since your break up.

It was a brief look, lacking the joy in his eyes from seconds ago, but tinged with sense of satisfaction. It was a satisfaction born from the unexpected outcome, a result opposite to your wish for him to lose.

Afterward, all the students were directed into the dining hall to celebrate Coriolanus's victory with cake and posca.

And no longer after, the boy simply disappeared, slipping away from the festivities.

As the final echoes of the Games' noisy cheers faded away, an unsettling silence descended upon the Capitol, and your mind was left in a whirlwind of questions and concern. The explanation provided by the Academy for Coriolanus's sudden departure to one of the districts, where he was enlisting for as a Peacekeeper, seemed like an ill-fitting puzzle piece in his life.

You knew Coriolanus better than most, his ambitions, his dreams, his unrelenting pursuit of victory. This decision, so out of character, scratched at the corners of your consciousness like an itch you couldn't quite reach. The nagging sense that something was amiss and missing from the narrative was an ever-present companion, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

But the mystery didn't end with his sudden departure. The day following the Games' conclusion, it was as if someone had meticulously wiped away any trace of the event's existence. Records, footage, and even the very name Lucy Gray Baird were methodically excised from history's pages. The thoroughness of this situation left you in a state of bewildered disbelief. The memories and echoes of the Games, once so vivid, now seemed to have been cast into a gap of forgotten time.

Your mind was a whirlwind of questions, each one clamoring for answers, but you knew that the truth was hidden beyond your reach. In all of these Capitol secrets, you had no choice but to accept the narrative spun by Doctor Gaul and Dean Highbottom, even if it left you feeling like a mere puppet, dancing to their tune.

You just clung to the belief that Coriolanus was out there, safe, and somehow untouched by the Capitol's ominous machinations. You didn't know the real reason for his leaving, but thoughts of his comfort were your only solace.

You longed to see him again, not only because of the warmth of his presence, but also because of the secrets he could hold. Yet, deep down, you knew that even if he were to find his way back to the heart of Panem, you would likely be the last person on his list to seek out.

On a day that was just like any other, as the Capitol went about its business, you found yourself outside your penthouse. It was just another moment in your everyday routine, all you wanted was to go for a walk, enjoying the last few days before university starts, unaware of things that were about to happen.

You were lost in thought, just looking around the familiar place when suddenly, someone stepped into view and your heart stopped for what seemed like a split second. It was Coriolanus, no doubt about it, but he had changed more than you could have imagined. He used to have those distinctive curls, but now, his hair was much shorter. His whole presence felt more reserved. Even the way he carried himself seemed different from what you were used to. Something about his aura had shifted, and it was not the same energy you once knew, not even the one he usually projected to others. It was a subtle change, but it was there.

Upon realizing that he was heading towards your shared building, a mix of emotions surged within you. Surprise and happiness due to the sight of the person you had missed so intensely warred with the memories of his abrupt departure, and the months of estrangement.

As he drew closer, you couldn't help but hope for a friendly reunion. You wanted to forget the past and bridge the distance that had grown between the two of you, but the Coriolanus who now stood before you was colder, more distant than ever before.

His eyes, which once held warmth and familiarity when they met yours, now seemed to pass right through you, leaving you with an unsettling sense that the Coriolanus you once knew had changed into a stranger.

“Coryo?” you cautiously greeted him as he drew closer, employing the affectionate diminutive form of his name. “I didn't expect to meet you here.”

Your friendly approach fell upon a wall of silence, an awkward pause hanging heavily between you. The air seemed thick with unresolved tension, and you questioned whether you should have simply pretended not to notice him.

“Dean Highbottom mentioned that you departed for Twelve to join the Peacekeepers,” you continued, attempting to engage him in conversation. Your gaze remained intent on his, even as his bored expression showed little sign of interest. This was undoubtedly one of the most awkward moments of your life, and the hope of a warm reunion was fading with each passing second.

You couldn't help but inquire further, “Was it because of Lucy Gray?”

Upon the mention of the tribute girl's name, a subtle shift occurred in Coriolanus's demeanor. He raised his head slightly, his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. The unexpected reaction baffled you, and a crease of confusion formed between your brows as you tried to comprehend his change in demeanor.

“Lucy Gray is gone,” he stated, his words dripping with coldness and arrogance, once again underscoring the transformation in his character. The warmth and compassion that had once defined your interactions now felt like distant memories, leaving you in the stark shadow of your shared past.

“Gone?” you repeated. His statement was quite confusing, and you struggled to grasp its meaning.

Without offering any clarification, he continued his stride towards the building's entrance, as if your presence had become irrelevant to him. Desperate for answers that had slipped away form you for far too long, you reached out and gently grasped the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

“Coryo, wait,” you begged, looking into his eyes for a flicker of the person you used to know. The frigid stare he returned sent a chill through your spine, but your curiosity pushed you forward. “What happened? After... well, after you disappeared.”

His gaze dipped to where your fingers held on to his shirt, and the tension between you grew palpable. When you finally let go, his eyes met yours once more, and he spoke in a voice that held a hint of gentleness. “Do you really want to know what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He maintained his distance, standing tall and appearing to gaze down at you.

You didn't particularly like this version of Coriolanus, but at the same time you couldn't back down now; you had yearned for this moment for months.

In response to his question, you offered a simple nod, a silent invitation for him to share. The silence hung between you, heavy and full of unspoken emotions. Coriolanus glanced around, checking for any unwelcome listeners nearby, before answering.

“I've been through a living hell,” he responded curtly, leaving a trail of unresolved questions lingering in the air, but before you could voice these unspoken thoughts, he continued.

“I was forced to follow relentless orders each day, enduring the scorching sun that left burns on my skin, and the agony of taking three lives,” he recounted, as if each experience weighed equally on his conscience. “And those damn songbirds... they're a nightmare. They can drive you to the brink of insanity.”

You sought answers in his eyes, searching for any glimmer of the person you had known, but what you found was far from the warmth and compassion you remembered. It was as if something within him had been replaced by a hint of disdain.

“She betrayed me,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of bitter disappointment, before you had time to sort out the chaos in your head. “Just when I thought I could escape it all and start a new life without constantly looking over my shoulder, she chose to abandon me.”

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you questioned, your forehead creased with worry as you gazed into his eyes.

“I killed Sejanus Plinth,” he confessed. Your lips parted in shock, and without realizing it, you instinctively moved a step away, creating a physical gap between you and someone who had once been an open book. Now, it felt as though you knew nothing about him.

You had heard rumors of Sejanus Plinth's death, but the details were murky. The nature of Coriolanus and Sejanus's relationship had always been a subject of speculation, leaving people to wonder whether they were genuine friends or just collagues. Coriolanus had occasionally expressed his frustration with Sejanus to you, but you had never imagined he would go as far as to take such a drastic step.

Coriolanus seemed oblivious to your reaction, his words continuing in a torrent of frustration. “But he deserved it. He could have listened to me and followed the rules for once. Instead, he chose to be a rebel, wanting to play the savior of the districts. That's how rebels end up,” his words were like shards of ice, driven by a wrath you had never seen in him before.

“I killed people who threatened her. I killed those who could be dangerous to Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus murmured. You gazed into his empty eyes as he continued and a sense of dread creeped over you. “And in return, she betrayed me, willing to see me suffer the same fate as Sejanus,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't risk being caught when I was mere hours away from leaving this wretched district.”

Your world seemed to crumble under the weight of his shocking confession. The inhumanity of his actions left you speechless, but Coriolanus appeared unaffected by your stunned silence.

He took a step closer, diminishing the gap between you, and you fought the urge to move back or look away from his piercing eyes.

“I'll make them all pay for it,” he declared with a small, unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. There was something in that expression that scared you, and now you were sure the boy standing in front of you was not the Coriolanus you had grown up with. “Every last one of them,” he added, presumably referring to the district residents with disdain.

With those words hanging in the air, he turned and disappeared behind the door of the apartment building, leaving you in a state of confusion and fear.

Many times, as you lay in bed at night, you often found yourself imagining the chance to see Coriolanus again. You wished that somehow, things could go back to the way they used to be, and that the warmth you once shared might return. But, the version of the man you just had a chance to look in the eyes filled you with nothing but fear now.

He seemed colder than his very name.

64 YEARS LATER

The underground room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single overhead bulb casting elongated shadows on the faces gathered around the table. Maps, documents, and a tactical board cluttered the space, a visual representation of the Rebellion's intricate plans. The tension in the room was palpable, and when you walked in with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to a tiger in her appearance, the rebels shared uncertain, questioning looks.

Katniss, her unmistakable braided hair and fierce gaze, was the first to break the silence. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes bore into yours with a mix of curiosity and concern, and you felt a dozen pairs of eyes in the room fixate on you. “Risking your life to help us take down Snow?”

You inhaled a quivering breath when the memories and thoughts weighing heavily upon your chest. In your mind, a series of images flashed – a time when Snow had been had been a very different person. You paused for a moment, your thoughts returning to the Coriolanus you had once been so familiar with. The recollection painted a vivid picture of Coryo as you remembered him: his charming smile, which he had once reserved solely for you, and his distinctive, curly hair.

“I'm doing this,” you began, your voice tinged with pain and longing, “because I used to know him very well.” You deliberately used the diminutive form of his name that had once been so familiar to you, “Coryo. We were close, once.”

The room fell silent, and a myriad of emotions passed over the faces of those assembled. Your words seemed to have caught them off guard, and you could sense their curiosity and concern.

“We were in a relationship, but he's not the person I once loved anymore. This Snow, the one we're fighting against now, is a monster. He's not the Coryo I knew. He deserves the worst.”

Peeta, who sat beside Katniss, let out a sigh, and his eyes held a profound understanding. His gaze, a clear blue in the dim light, softened as he looked at you.

“Sometimes people change,” Peeta said, his voice gentle. “I've seen it happen before.”

Katniss's expression hardened with resolve, her determination unwavering. “He's going to regret everything he has done in his life,” she said.

As Katniss's words hung in the air, you felt a wave of knotty emotions churning within you. Your gaze drifted downward to the shelter's dirt floor, where the tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to overflow. For years, you had yearned for justice to be served to Coriolanus, for him to face the consequences of his oppressive rule over Panem. It had been a sincere desire, one that had simmered in your heart, yet now, with the Rebellion's cause so close to success, you found yourself grappling with a bewildering conflict.

Coriolanus had long disregarded you, deeming you unworthy of his attention and companionship. He had tear your connection, but it didn't mean that you had forgotten the feelings you had once for him.

It was his treatment of those who still loved him, the suffering of his cousin Tigris, who had been a close friend of yours, that weighed on your heart. She had selflessly helped Coriolanus throughout the war, supported him during his first mentorship and long after, but his attitude toward her changed with each passing year, and you couldn't understand why.

Over the years, Coriolanus had allowed the Hunger Games to evolve into something even more grotesque and brutal, making even bigger spectacle out of the tributes' deaths. It had been a source of disgust, a reflection of his growing cruelty. You were repulsed by the Capitol, sickened by Snow's insatiable thirst for power and the desire to see him removed from his seat of authority had been a driving force.

Yet, something within you was blocking your resolve, sowing seeds of doubt and uncertainty. The conflict within your heart was a huge storm, with one part pulling you toward the rebellion and the other tethered to a past that still held the remains of the Coriolanus you had once known, loved, and miss.

But that boy from your youth was a distant memory, swallowed by the Coriolanus who had emerged over the years, especially during his time in the Twelfth District shortly after his victory in the Games.

You raised your eyes to meet Katniss's, and in that moment, your mind drifted to Lucy Gray Baird, an ironic twist of fate that wasn't lost on you.

As Katniss observed your internal struggle, her sharp instincts sensed that there was more to your hesitancy than met the eye. She furrowed her brows, her gaze unwavering, and asked, “Is there something else you would like to share?”

Peeta, who had been observing you quietly, echoed her concern with a compassionate look in his eyes. His gentle tone conveyed understanding as he said, “You can talk to us, you know. We've all had our reasons for joining this fight.”

Your throat felt constricted, and you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos of emotions. With a hurried swallow and a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat and shook your head. You offered a smile, though it felt forced and inadequate for the gravity of the moment, as you moved closer to the table filled with scattered papers.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, attempting to shift the focus away from you. Your eyes darted around the faces of those gathered around the tabletop, eager to immerse yourself in the cause, to be part of the solution to the crisis at hand.

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anonymous-existences · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 1 : One Sided Family

Big TW:(thanks for reminding me;-;) sensetive stuff such as graphic SH and CSH. THIS FIC is absolutely WHUMP based, I apparently hurt a lot of spots— either way, Neglect, Angst, Danny suffering, neglect.

(yes, this is the fic title <33)

Danyal Al Ghul, A child that shouldn't have existed, a child capable of sunny sweet smiles and empathy despite the harsh environment of the league. No one understood how he could still smile and make subtle small jokes, a warm presence that he gave off was eerie for the league. It made Talia much more favorable of her other son, the much superior Damian Al Ghul.

Danyal himself didn't understand how he could be himself, whenever he greets someone they ignore him, he tries to open up to his own brother hoping for some closure between them but that only left him with a deep scar in his cheek, he had to tend to his own wounds from fighting with his brother, his existence felt like a mere stepping stool for Damian Al Ghul, Also known for being the Real Heir of the Al Ghuls. Danny slowly felt disappointment in himself, blaming himself for being the way he is.

Was Danyal wrong? Was Danyal a mistake? Danyal asked himself gently placing his small palm on the mirror, a slap of the Mother he is bound to with flesh and blood visible in his cheek, his small hands pressing on his reflection, 'Why am I.. wrong?' Danyal mentally asked himself trying to hold back to tears who wanted to break through his calm act, his chest heavy with questions yearning for the warmth he was not even familiar with.

Danyal saw a new guard for them, he resembled someone... Danyal couldn't pinpoint who, He always greeted the guard despite them not greeting or saying anything back, but Danny felt as though they were watching him, softly. Danyal smiled at the guard every so often despite being told by his superior twin that there is no use in taking notice of the guard. Danyal always snuck books to the guard and often puts it in his hands or Danyal would sit beside him and read slowly.

The guard used to only stare at the books but now he's started reading them which made Danyal's heart leap in joy as he had finally found an interest of the nameless guard. At some point Danyal had approached the guard and slowly got used to sitting on the Nameless Guard's Lap, Danyal no longer felt lonely in the league. Getting attached to his new found friend despite Damian's disappointment in his attachment atleast his twin is now learning more stuff from observing the guard.

It was occasional that Danny get a scrape or two from the harsh training and the guard would come by the boy the kneel, staring at the scrapes as if it would go away with just sight trying to 'intimidate' the wound to stare it away, unable to process on how to properly 'repair' or heal the injury. It made Danyal laugh as it portrays that the guard has a sense of care for the boy but just didn't know how to act on it, knowing nothing as to how he'd be able to help Danyal.

As time went on Danyal has grown fascinated with the stars, His newfound friend has noticed sure, often nodding along with Danyal's Chattering about what he's learned and what books the boy has read, Danyal wishes that this silent friend of his would stay with him for he is the only one who's ever listened to the boy. "Can I know your name?" Danyal blurted out to the guard, "Oh wait sorry Right— you can't speak—" Danny was interrupted by the guard's deep Voice.

"Jason." He said, Danny perked up and his eyes sparkled and he nodded with a wide bright smile, it made the guard flinch and just nod back, now it was just another day for Danyal hoping to read more books with the guard but upon entering his chambers... He was not there.

Danyal felt his heart crack at the sight of his friend not being present. Where is he? Danyal looked around silently in the league searching for his friend desperately but he never found the Man, Danyal held back his tears as to not show any emotion. He thought maybe the guard was a test from Grandfather to tell Danyal that he could take what Danyal loves the most if he continued to be... Weak.

Slowly he built up walls around his heart, his soul, secluding himself and becoming lone, Although he still trained even under harsh conditions he continued fighting through, not because he had a purpose but because it's the only thing he thinks he's useful for, he could never surpass his superior twin but the best he could surpass would be his own self. But deep inside him his heart aches at the loneliness he felt, he felt alone and gradually his mind was filled with thoughts of usefulness and what is... What is he?

What was wrong with him? Not even grandfather liked him, rather grandfather nor mother looked at him, Neither did his twin. 'Maybe I really just wasn't supposed to be born...' he whispered under his breathe holding back tears as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He pulled up his sleeves and unsheathed his blade, "Maybe.... Maybe the pain will make me forget...?" Danyal asked himself staring at the mirror, moments after he hissed in pain feeling his blood trail down from his wrists.

He couldn't hold back his tears as he continued to let the blood drip, he stared at his tear streaked face, "Yeah... The pain does make me forget.." Danyal smiled in the mirror slowly getting himself used to the mask, Putting on a poker face is better than... Him. Danyal washed his hands and pulled down his sleeves, hiding the wounds just like always as no one would really care nor notice a few sliced in his wrists. No one will ever love him back in this place, his devotion and love will never be.... Acknowledged either way.

Another day passed, and another, and another, normal days until assassins who had been, practically with the league for a long long time who still held their loyalty to the former leader whom Ra's had executed didn't stand by. In an act of revenge, the remaining assassins had tainted the food of the two heirs to the Demon Head with poison and immediately committed death to themselves afterwards.

Danyal laid on the cold floor, his body slightly pulsing slowly losing consciousness in their private chamber, Danyal looked over to his twin and reached to hold the boy's hand, he felt his consciousness fade slowly as the pain began to began it's work. Thinking death will finally take it's toll on Danyal, he wishes upon a star, a myth of the children, tell no one and it will come true, Slowly he fluttered his eyes close and wished upon his last gasp of Breathe he wished that in If ever there is a next life, someone to love him with all his heart the way he loves back.

...

......

.......

He blinked, he opened his eyes, he had been reborn, his body now regressed back to that of a baby. He was born in the family of the 'Fentons' , parents that are scientists(?) he wasn't quite sure as to what the Fenton's really are. Although they weren't always present he could feel that they loved him, loved him as their son ofcourse. They spent their time tinkering away and chattering about their latest project. It did not bother D̶a̶n̶y̶a̶l̶Daniel as they took their time to teach Danny the basics of 'Tinkering' away.

Jasmine Fenton, Jazz as she preferred was different than his past experience, instead of leaving him behind and going on her merry way and watch their parents 'raise' him she stayed, rather she acted just like a mother, despite being the more favored sibling among their parent's favor, despite her being just allowed to leave the boy to fend off for himself, she stayed.

She read many books, thick and thin, so many infact it surpassed her already tall frame, all books surrounding the topic of parenting and how to take care of a child that is Daniel, It confused Daniel, all this love and attention they are giving is new to him, like a radiant glimmer of hope that shines brighter than the sun itself. It was warm and Comforting, a new sensation he didn't want to let go. He clutched onto his Sister..? Mother. Like a chickling to it's mother hen.

Whenever he was in distress she was there to console him, comfort him that he did nothing wrong, whenever something didn't go his way she'd teach him how to understand how not everything turns out the way he wants. She taught him many things, Jack and Maddie did too but Jazz taught him nearly everything. She was there, she filled the roles of Mother and Father despite her having the talents to run away and become successful, her intellect leaving her with many open doors she could take yet she looked behind and stayed... For him.

He fumbled and sometimes felt shy with all the love he is receiving, along with his new two best friends Samantha Ingrid "Sam" Manson and Tucker Foley and some mutuals, they too were with him through thick and thin despite... Despite that accident that left him scarred. They cared for him and loved him even tho they knew, they all knew he changed. That he died but they stayed and helped him through the memories and the pain, slowly gaining more friends in the school despite his difference.

Even getting a suitor that is Dash Baxter, although Jazz was very protective of Danny at first for The Boy was a Former Bully and A Jock that jazz didn't trust he didn't give up on trying to court Danny that it made Danny laugh, Jazz finally let the boy Court Danny after so long of fighting jazz for the 'right to love' as Sam would call the whole ordeal. They stuck through everything, the mess and the new appearances.

Even when Ellie appeared! Although she was a surprise to him he accepted her wholeheartedly seeing her as his little sister, although it started rough because of some complications with Vlad... they got through it and slowly going somewhere together. Then he saw himself, a future version of himself from another timeline where he had lost it all, He knew everything, every secret he kept hidden and locked away. Dan knew every thought he made, every action and every strategy. Both eventually clicking with each other and Dan realizing he still had that soft spot in his 'core'.

The bond between them becoming brothers just as well, it was perfect, D̶a̶n̶i̶e̶l̶Danny had people who loved him back, the way he loved them with all his being. The way he gave away his heart to them. If only Maddie and Jack never found out what he became after the accident, maybe he could've stayed. He felt so much pain being strapped to the table and opened up like some... Animal. The last moments he's seen being his Older Sister, Jazz screaming out his name in the Lab before his eyes fluttered close due to exhaustion and pain.

...

.....

........

Why was he back? The walls of the league surrounding him, His breathe Hitched and his eyes frantically looking around slowly processing that he was.. back. Back in the league, he felt his walls instantly guard his 'core' his heart. "What?" He blurted out as he breathes in and out trying to compose his beating heart. 'Why? Why? Was it all a dream? Please. It wasn't a dream right?!' he asked himself under hushed whispers and clenched his chest, he saw the scar he retained from the accident still in his hand, he traced it on his body and the Lichtenberg Scar was still trailing along his palm to his chest to his eye.

D̶a̶n̶y̶a̶l̶ couldn't understand, how does he remember the years he was Danny? Perhaps a past life? That couldn't be as he gained back the scars from that 'past life' , it all felt like a haze in the mind, a barrier of fog into memories he couldn't access. He knew to himself it wasn't dream. It couldn't be at all! There was no way! The only proof he had to say to himself that it had been real was a neon green sticky note that appeared Infront of him in the mirror.

"Time Will Tell.'

-CW

Danny grit his teeth, he felt the last of his tears flow out, a silent scream escaping his mouth as he for the first time in what felt like years, let the blood trickle down his palm from his wrist, from that day froward he didn't care no longer. He thickened the walls around his heart and do what he was told. 3 days after his awakening Damian himself finally woke up, but remained indifferent as always.

"Danyal?" Damian took notice of Danny for the first time. Damian noticed that the Boy... Stopped smiling at Damian, Damian didn't understand at first but he just thought to himself that maybe it's just that Danny has finally realized his softness will not get him anywhere in the league. Danny stared at Damian for the most part and never responded to his twin's questions, always lost in thought in those eyes devoid of any emotions, eyes that used to shine at the sight of stars now dull and... Dark.

Ra's was pleased by Danyal's new self, for this dull knife was finally sharpening itself to be a deadly dagger, Talia remained as indifferent as always but Damian had a slight hint of concern he shut out. Danyal remained indifferent, setting himself to be the loyal tool he was expected to be keeping his hands in his back and his head moderately high but not higher than his superior twin's. He was the tool they always expected him to be now, Damian's supposed stepping stool to success and greatness as the next Demon Head Heir.

'Right, this is how it was always supposed to be...' Danny whispered to himself, Damian hearing only faintly and glancing at Danny who didn't look back, Danny didn't look 'scared' or 'nervous' Infront of Ra's or anyone anymore as he shouldn't be, he acted like a doll with no emotion, complete contrast of what he used to be. He thinks it's for the betterment of himself to completely lock his emotions in the empty space in his head.

For his 'Mother' is no longer there to receive his love.

....

When they turned 10 years old Talia sent them off to their Father in Gotham in an effort to disrupt their work which didn't really succeed.

Richard "Dick" Grayson immediately took a liking to Damian seeing Jason in the young boy and someone who needed 'care' and guidance. Danyal... Danny was just following them as they cemented their immediate likeness to Damian after they had thought Bruce Died. Dick immediately decided that he would put his all into guiding the young Damian.

But what about Danyal?

Danyal tilted his head as he paused in the doorway of the Manor, "Oh my... Hello there Young Master..." Alfred Pennyworth, the Butler of Wayne Manor greeted Danyal and lowered his knee to Danyal's height, "Oh.... Hello..." Danyal merely greeted meekly as he looked up at the older Man, "Come on in.. May I know your name?" Alfred asked holding out his hand to the poor boy. "Danyal... But... Please call me Danny.." Danny, smiled.

Alfred Nodded and lead Danny in the Manor, "Do you want to eat anything young Master Danny?" Alfred looked down at the new ward and Danny stared at Alfred for a moment, "do you know.. how to make.. Burgers or Pierogi?" Danny tilts his head, "why Ofcourse Master Danny, how about beverages?" Alfred asked softly, "Just some... Soda is fine." Danny gave him a small smile as Alfred held the boy's hand and lead him to the kitchen to wait and eat.

Danny knew they weren't exactly food that Danny should be familiar with in the league, Danny asked for them either way to remember the taste of Illinois in his tounge. To remember When Jazz would cook him pierogi or when him and his friends and 'suitor' would eat at Nasty Burger with their food, he merely wanted to remember the 'past life' that he so loved.

Alfred served him his food with a smile, a pierogi and a burger with soda, Danny brightened up and smiled at Alfred, "Thank You Sir Pennyworth..." Danny muttered shyly and Alfred chuckled amused, "Please just call me Alfred, Master Danny." Alfred slightly ruffled the boy's hair gently and Danny nodded so.

After some time Danny yawned whilst telling Alfred stories of Amity Park, Alfred just listening intently despite the confusion on how Danny would know this, or the fact that Amity Park didn't exist... Alfred listened to the small boy's chatter until he grew exhausted and fell asleep leaning on Alfred's arm. Alfred's eyes softened gently carresing the boy's cheek and grazing over his visible Lichtenberg scar that tainted his innocent small face.

Alfred gently carried the boy and heading over to an empty bedroom that was promptly kept clean by Alfred everyday, Alfred tucked the boy in and looked over his shoulder, "Alfred... That's the other one right?" Dick asks, "Yes Master Dick, This is.. Danyal, but he prefers the Name Danny." Alfred just bows slightly at Dick who nodded.

"I see... Jason and Damian are at the living room, do you also want to meet Damian now too?" Dick asks and Alfred nodded following Dick out of the room, Alfred carefully and quietly shut the bedroom door letting Danny sleep peacefully. Danny's Scars spread, revealing more of it's leakage to Danyal from Daniel, Danny felt his dreams manifest.

Days, Passed, maybe even weeks, Danny lost count on how long it has been since he's talked to one of his 'brothers' or Damian as it seemed they're always busy, Damian was also building connections with them and Danny being once again left behind to himself... 'maybe I could help Tim with Father?' Danny asked himself slowly perking up knowing he can ask Clockwork for a Favor. Although it may change some things in the timeline because of his favored interference. Maybe they'd finally acknowledge him.

Danny snuck inside the Batcave with ease using his Phantom Abilities, He wrote on a small sticky note that he found by Tim's usual Desk and drew a summoning circle to ask CW. Danny looked up at a clock "Clockwork... Can you do them a small favor?" Danny asked the clock softly and it ticked loudly by the minute and Danny knew that meant a 'Yes'. Danny smiled softly and put stuck the note in the computer where Tim would easily see.

Danny was organizing the files after seeing the mess and even putting other sticky notes to help Tim, Danny's heart fluttered at thinking of how he could help Tim through small clues, all notes he put had the initials "D.W." on them with a smile. Eventually he even got a Coffee Ready Thermos by the Desk for Tim before leaving the Batcave with a happy smile and a light heart.

"Clockwork should I tell Alfred?" Danny asked the grandfather clock and it ticked by the minute initiating another yes, Danny hopped happily and heading to find Alfred but promptly stopping in his tracks. Danny stared at Jason and Damian 'hanging out' in the backyard. "The Guard..." Danny muttered under his breathe, he leaned on the Window from upstairs as he watched them play.

"Maybe... I'm not meant to be loved her—" the Clock ticked loudly as if aggresively saying that it was not the case. Danny just stared at the clock and sat by the window. "I miss my mom..." Danny mutters softly his voice betraying him and breaking. "Damian?" Dick places his hand on Danny's shoulder, "O-Oh! It's you... Your name is Danny right?" Dick asked with a worried face wiping the tears in Danny's face.

"Am I... Not wanted here..?" Danny asked straightforwardly tears sliding down his cheeks, Dick froze, "W-why would you say that Buddy?" Dick's face contorts into more worry and disbelief. "This is... The first time I've been here that any of you talked to me..." Danny sobbed out, unable to hold back his heavy emotions any longer, Dick just embraced the small boy in his arms. "It's not that you're not wanted... That's not it, I'm sorry." Dick softly whispered as Danny continued crying.

"I'm sorry we made you feel that way..." Dick just comforted the boy, He didn't notice that his 'favoritism' towards Damian was affecting the other boy, they always thought of him as the unmoving wallflower that didn't seem or look that he cared at all about it, they always thought Damian was the one who needed more care since he seemed more expressive and aggresive.

Dick took Danny outside hoping he could know more about the kid, although Danny only stayed quiet as they watched Damian and Jason play, Damian dragging Dick to play as well, Danny being.. left behind again.. atleast he's gotten used to being left alone that it stopped hurting too much. Danny stood up and left without the three noticing his presence disappearing.

"A promise is just a slurry of words that can always be broken..." Danny muttered softly under mostly broken breathes as he headed back to his assigned bedroom. Tommorow dawned on Danny as the presence of Clockwork dropped the temperature of the home, Danny felt himself shivering slightly and breathe puffing out frost as he was in the halls.

He had forgotten that 'Danyal' and 'Daniel' are different bodies and that he himself is not used to this sudden coldness that felt like Winter inside a frozen cave. "Danyal!" Danny heard Damian call out his name and a jacket being wrapped around him, "Wear this." Damian clicked his tounge as he helped his younger brother cover up and wrapped his smaller frame with a large and thick blanket.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." Damian sighed and hugged Danny tightly, "Huh? What do you need Damian?" Danny just asked and Damian grabbed the boy by the wrist gently and dragged him to the Batcave, "I think that green creature is looking for you." Damian says breathing out a puff of frost as he does so, Ice trailing along the walls the longer the temperature stayed low.

Damian dragged Danny to the Batcave, Damian trying to resist the cold but Danyal getting concerned and Wrapping Damian in the blanket he has given him, "I already have a jacket Akhi." Danny sighed and forced Damian like a burrito before being the one to drag him to the Batcave instead.

As they arrived at the Batcave they saw Tim on his knees on the floor staring up at the large green portal atop the summoning circle adorned by stop watches and candles, other heroes such as The speedsters and some Danny doesn't recognize also present. The higher being wore blue ghastly robes holding a staff. It was hard to properly see the being with it's full glory due to the brightness of the Lazarus Green portal.

"This Interference will cause some.. major and minor changes in the future... Do you want to proceed?" The being asked, but it didn't seem to ask Tim. Tim looked over his shoulder and saw Danny and Damian, Danny nodded. "Very well little Badger~" the higher being laughed amused at how this world is proceeding instead of it's original course.

[Clockwork Favors his Grandchild too much to not do the bidding of changing a Realm's timeline course.]

The higher being that is Clockwork slowly approached Tim who instinctively covered Danny and Damian with his body, his action made Clockwork smile enthusiastically, "atleast you have the mind to care for both boys... Hmm... Yes yes I'll help you..." Clockwork motions his hand dismissively slowly turning his body to face the other leaguers and John Constantine. "Oh my. I came early didn't it Hellblazer?" Clockwork tilts his head smiling and approaching John.

John felt the weight of the room become heavier than before, the pressure from the god of time's presence weighing them all down, John lowered his head as a bow and the other leaguers followed his motion knowing well if they even offend the god they'll have no other choice now and Bruce will surely not come back. Clockwork taps his chin with his finger a smile still plastered in his face. "The children shouldn't be awake for any of these." Clockwork said and before anyone could respond, he turns his head to Damian and Danny's direction and flicked his finger.

Their eyes shut close, sudden exhaustion overwhelming both their bodies.

.....

......

Danny opened his eyes suddenly and sat up near immediately, gasping for air and frantically looking around, he found Damian slowly waking up beside him, Danny could hear his heart racing in his ears as he slowly took in slow deep breaths. "What time..." He muttered trying to track the clock hanging by the wall and soon his eyes landed on the clock reading the time at exactly 8:00 AM. It was already day and the sun was shining through the gap of the curtains.

"Ugh...." Damian groaned beside him, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Danyal...?" Damian muttered his gaze landing on his brother beside him. "Hello.. morning..." was all Danny could mutter slowly catching up on his breathe. He fixed his eyes on the door suddenly as it opened, Dick entered the room to check on them and he froze upon seeing them finally awake.

"Oh my Fucking god— YOU'RE AWAKE!" Dick had tears in the edge of his eyes as he pulled both boys into a bear hug, dick trying his best not to cry of worry, "Unhand me Grayson! It is far too early for this!" Damian complained and tried to push Dick away but soon gave up, Danny just slowly softened and buried himself in the hug, loving the physical attention. "You've been both asleep for almost a week, Jesus Christ..." Dick just curses under his breathe, hugging them both tighter.

"You saved Bruce..." Danny perked up at his statement but soon realized he was looking at Damian, Danny was confused and Dick suddenly pulled Damian up and hugged the boy only. "C'mon Dami! You have to see Bruce! You saved him after all with that tip!" Dick dragged Damian, "I did not do anything GRAYSON!" Damian sneered and cried out looking back at Danny who's eyes were slowly losing it's light once more.

"Dan—" Damian was cut off by Dick suddenly tossing the boy in his arms and carrying him in his shoulder, "C'mon now Dami! Don't be shy about helping!" Dick exclaimed. Danny heard their footsteps slowly running far from the room.

Danny's breathe Hitched as he tried to hold back his tears, slowly lowering his head and his gaze landing on his hands. He buried his face in his hands as broken sobs soon broke through his defenses. "But... I'm the one who helped Tim..." He muttered under sniffled and muffled sobs. He slowly pulled on his head as he kept his head lowered on the blankets, slowly curling up on the bed kneeling still. "I was right.... No one... Loves me here..." Danny... Danyal cried out softly. His heart growing heavy the longer he cried.

Danyal laughed as he pulled on his hair and dragged his hand down his cheeks, leaving small red marks as he dug his fingers on his neck and slowly wrapping his arms around his shoulders letting himself fall back in bed, knowing he's been left and forgotten once again. He buried himself under the blanket and cried softly, muffling his sobs with the thickness of the blanket.

"I helped..." He says, feeling childish for being jealous and feeling that it was unfair that Damian is the One getting credit. He Felt childish, Undeserving. "Right... He's the superior Twin... It's inevitable." He scoffs, 'reminding' himself that he's not the loved twin for a reason, trying to tell himself that he's not worthy of their love because he's not someone even worthy of being Damian's Brother, not worthy of being an 'Al Ghul'. Let alone being worthy of being a 'Wayne'.

He just slowly closed his eyes letting tears flow out, "I miss my mom..." He softly mutters.

"I miss my family..."

Tags for the OP of this prompt and someone else lol:

@unadulteratedsoulsweets (OP)[I tried my best to recreate this OP]

And

@yoopsity <33

Masterlist

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom fandom #dc x dp #dcu #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fanart #danny phantom art #angst

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