#gambit x black female reader

[honeydrzzldpeaches]

aigh imma say it. this may ruffle sum feathers.

Gambit bein who Gambit is—

why is there literally almost NO (to my knowledge, I’m still lookin) no fics of him a black f!reader?! A black f!oc?! or a plus-sized woman?!

like I know that’s what x reader, x you, x y/n is for but sometimes the self insertion be too obvi and I lost all interest and it’s just—

You mean to tell me that Cajun fine ass specimen of a MAN 🤌🏽 ain’t gettin no love conernin the melanin women?!

NONE?!

🧢 .

BIG MFN C A P.

I SAID WHAT I SAID.

the math ain’t mathin.

[arlemangel7]

Im laying in my kitchen on the deep freezer and I got to thinking....

Characters with an oral fixation. HERE WE GO!!!!

Nsfw(duh)

Gambit

He's eating ya pussy, don't matter what time of day it is he's eating yalls pussy. I feel like(this is if the free use thing was in effect) he would come home to find you sitting on the deep freezer(iykyk) or the back of the couch cause weird shit. He's come up to you greet you like a normal person give you a few kisses ask you how ya day was while not so subtly make his way down to his knees and bury his face deep into your already dripping wet cunny for the second time that day. I feel like the man has an oral fixation and it doesn't flare up all the time but when it does OH IT DOES you would wake up to him trying taste your cervix and only when you completely drench his face not once not twice BUT THREE FUCKING TIMES does he relent giving you a thank you kiss on your lower lips and a good morning kiss on your upper set having you taste the breakfast you so graciously provided him before heading out to work for the day.

I feel like he likes getting oral but enjoys it a whole lot more when he has you at his mercy begging him to stop through shrieks of pleasure. It's a power move to him so the man exerts that at any and most opportunities. Being as though he's more of a low key guy that's one way that he can ensure that you're well taken care off after all he is a thief of course😉

Alphonse

The man, the myth, the sweet sarcastic asshole with the smart ass mouth to match, and oh boy does he know how to use it. This man is a give as good as he gets types of man and from where he's standing/sitting/laying😉😉😉 he gets pretty damn well and often.

I feel like he's the type to go low and slow taking long lascivious licks up your dripping pussy and then after you twitching and whimpering for him to speed up and end your suffering does he hit the "finish her" button and devour you in all your glory until you begging and pulling at his hair to get him to stop does he pull away and go as balls deep as he can to give you that night quel dick. Bonus points if seth is in town too then you'll get devoured twice as often and watch him stroke it while alphonse is busy working on you.

[scintie]

a spark of black

Pairing: Gambit/Remy LeBeau x female reader. Summary: Ever since you appeared at the resistance hideout along with Wade and Logan, tension between you and a certain Cajun card slinger has been steadily growing. One fateful night you finally get the chance to relieve some of it. Tags: smut (male receiving), blowjob, mild dominant undertones. Notes: be gentle, this is the first piece of writing that I've uploaded in yeeeeears. :')

You watched Remy’s mouth move, his lips forming words that you just couldn’t decipher. He was obviously speaking to you, it was just the two of you sat in the main room of the hideout.

Earlier in the evening everyone had been gathered, sharing stories and drinks. The others had all turned in for the night an hour or so ago, leaving you and the Cajun to continue on without them. Wade had made his exit by saying something predictably crude about not being too loud while fucking each others brains out. Remy had waved him off while you did nothing but blush.

The past hour had been torture. Listening to Remy's smooth, deep voice talk about their recent escapades in the Void had driven you crazy with desire. You'd developed a stupid crush on him as soon as you'd arrived. Who wouldn't though right? With his tall, broad stature and handsome face, he'd be hard for anyone to resist. But as the days had passed things went from bad to worse and your stupid crush deepened into a genuine desire.

That's why the blood was thumping so loud in your ears that you couldn’t understand him.

“Wh-what? Sorry, I er, I didn’t quite catch that.” You stammered, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. You dreaded to think how flustered you looked to him right now. Like a deer in the headlights of a truck. A big, sexy truck wearing a brown leather coat.

“Oh, tu es mignon,” Remy chuckled under his breath. He rose from his chair and stepped a little closer, as if the distance between the two of you was the issue. “Remy see da way you been lookin’ at him cher, when ya' think he no be noticin’, ah?”

You were speechless. You didn't know how to react to his bluntness. How were you supposed to react to that?

Remy smirked and closed the gap between you completely and leaned over you, placing his hands on the back of your chair, one either side of your head. He was so close, you could barely breathe.

"You wan' me? All a pretty lil' thing like you would hav' to do is ask, ma douce." He kept his voice low, not wanting to alert the others.

Your mind raced, thoughts bouncing around for what felt like an eternity before at last, you nodded your head. You didn't even realise you were doing it but you weren't about to argue against it either.

"Atta girl, une si bonne fille." Remy praised, standing up straight. His hands went to the fastenings of his pants, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. "Ya trust Remy, don'cha cher?" He asked, slowly pushing his pants and underwear down off of his hips.

Your gaze left his then, moving down his otherwise fully clothed body until you were greeted with the sight of his half hard cock slipping from it's confines. Your eyes went wide. He was certainly much bigger than anyone you'd ever been with before.

You realised Remy was still watching you, slowly stroking himself now, waiting for an answer. You didn't know where to look, it was hard to tear your eyes away from the sight of his cock swelling to it's full, impressive size.

Finally, you found your words, "Y-yeah, I trust you."

"Perfect." Remy smirked and took up his position right in front of you, his hands on the back of the chair again. You gulped, head swimming with anticipation. "Then open up dat pretty mouth for me."

You drew in a long breath before slowly parting your lips, wider and wider until he nodded his approval. Remy seemed to realise that he had forgotten something, taking your hands from your lap and guiding them to his bare thighs. "Da's for yer own peace of mind, don' wan' you thinkin' you gon' fall."

You braced your hands on his muscular legs and soon realised why as he pulled on the back of your chair, slowly tilting you forward. The movement causing your mouth to lower onto his cock. It was definitely a different experience to anything you were used to, he had almost complete control over your movement.

Remy moaned quietly, taking in the tantalisingly debauched sight of your luscious lips wrapped around him. He took in every detail and sensation, observing you as if you were creating a beautiful piece of artwork right in front of him.

You looked up at him with hooded eyes, slowly working your tongue around him with what little space you had left to use.

Remy moaned again, deeper this time before just as slowly tipping the chair back down, his cock sliding almost all of the way out of your mouth.

"Y'okay, cher?" He asked, his chest rising and falling quickly. You could tell he was holding himself back a little, but he needed to make sure you were still on board with this.

You nodded slowly, running your hands slowly up and down his thighs, squeezing the muscles lying taught beneath his smooth skin.

Remy nodded back and steadied his stance. He moved the chair forward and backward again in quicker succession this time, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. He relaxed when all he saw was lust and wanton desire on your features.

You kept your hands braced on his legs, giving yourself a firm and steady anchor point to rely on. You moaned around his dick as he moved you again, a little deeper this time but still manageable.

He gradually built up a good rhythm. Not fast enough to be overwhelming for you but definitely enough to have him moaning freely, loving the soft warmth of your mouth as he moved you back and forth.

"Dat hot lil' mouth feelin' so good on me, cher." He whispered huskily, just loud enough for you to hear. You still had to be quiet, you couldn't imagine how mortifying it would be if one of the others walked in on you two right now.

Remy's words of encouragement shot a tingle through your body that ended up right between your legs. You pressed your thighs together hard and whimpered, tears prickling your eyes as your arousal started to get the better of you.

Remy noticed the change in your demeanour and slowly lowered the chair completely back down to the floor, his cock slipping free from your mouth for the first time since he'd started. A mixture of saliva and precum followed after him, coating your lips and chin.

You loved how completely blissed out you were feeling, high on the endorphins and serotonin surging through your body. Without really thinking about it you slid from the chair and onto your knees between Remy's feet. You were going on instinct, being driven by the almighty lust that you felt for this man.

"Y'kay down dere, angel?" Remy enquired, cocking an eyebrow and sliding a reassuring hand onto your shoulder as he watched you with intrigue.

You nodded slowly, grazing your teeth over your bottom lip. "Uhuh, just wanna make you come that's all..." Your words came out so soft and breathy that it was his turn to barely hear you, but he soon got the idea when you reached up and started to stroke him back to full hardness.

He moaned just a little louder than he'd liked to, caught a little off guard by the sudden sensation of your soft hands. "Well cher, Remy ain't gon' be arguin' widdat." He chuckled when he'd regained composure, jutting his hips forward for you. As soon as he was rigid again you wasted no time in taking his cock back into your mouth. You set a relatively fast pace, bobbing your head quickly, taking as much as would while working him with your tongue. Your hands went to his hips, pulling him forward and back gently in time with your bobbing. "Merde..." He hissed, looking down at you as he snaked his hand into the hair at the back of your head. "Jus' like dat, belle. Remy be comin' in no time if you be doin' dat..."

Spurred on by his words you forced yourself to take him just a little deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue in response, followed by the salty taste of precum.

You moaned softly as Remy's fingers tightened in your hair, gripping the strands at the very root. His hips stuttered a little, a tell tale sign that he getting close.

One of your hands left his hip and made it's way between his legs to massage his balls, lifting them with your palm and rolling them in their sack slowly.

The sound that came out of the Cajun's mouth was like music to your ears. Along guttural moan peppered with some indistinguishable French curse words. Apparently he didn't seem to care if anyone heard anymore.

A couple more minutes went by of you greedily sucking him and playing with his balls before Remy suddenly pulled back, his cock popping from your mouth wetly.

He wrapped his hand around his dick as he quickly guided you to sit back in the discarded chair from earlier. You complied, scrabbling up onto the wooden seat.

Remy stood over you, straddling your legs a she began jerking himself off quickly. "M' gonna come all over dat pretty face, cher... ya' ready?"

You nodded, heat rushing to your cheeks in anticipation. His hand made it's way to the back of your head again, holding you in place as he chased his orgasm.

The visual of such a devastatingly gorgeous man masturbating over you was intoxicating, it made your head spin just watching him. An odd swell of pride hit you as you noticed your saliva still coating his cock as he stroked himself, sliding his length between the makeshift sheath of his palm and thick fingers.

"Beg me, cher. Beg Remy for his cum." He panted.

You could tell he was right there, right on the precipice, he just needed to hear you.

"Please Remy, fuck... please cum all over me..." You whined, your breathing almost as shallow as his by now.

That did the trick. Almost as soon as the last words left passed your lips Remy let out a long, loud moan as his cock started to twitch. He pulled you closer just as thick, white ropes of cum started to shoot from his slit.

You opened your mouth just in time as you felt some of the hot, salty fluid paint your tongue. The rest splashed across your face in haphazard directions, marking you as his. Remy's fist slowed and his breathing steadied as the pleasure subsided. It was at that moment that you locked eyes with him. It was then that he fully saw the mess he'd made of you. The sight of you covered in his seed seemed to stun him for a small moment before his trademark cockiness returned.

"Lookin' good dere, beautiful. Dat look really suit you, ah?" He quipped, winking as he turned to find a washcloth.

You took it from him with a shy smile, your hormone fuelled confidence ebbing away slightly in the aftermath. But you smiled to yourself as you wiped your face clean because you had a feeling that he was right. It did suit you.

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Rise and you should pay.

Logan howlett x reader

------

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!!!

-

Warnings: fluff idk, angst stuff. Normal mcu/xmen stuff. Logan howlett is hot. Idk what else.

-

After years of working at the TVA, you'd have thought I was accustomed to being devastated by watching timelines fade and watching things disappear in front of my eyes. The amount of screams and cries and groans of agony, the scene of upset and destruction.

It never really becomes normal. Not for anyone. Not even for me. The noises are haunting. Horrifying. Those orange strands of death, veiny and disgustingly upsetting to stare at. I missed the x mansion. I missed staring at the stone walls. Hell, I even missed staring at Charles's wheelchair wheels roll around.

That's how I knew I was beginning to lose my mind. I wanted my powers back. I wanted my family and my life back. And above everything, I just wanted Logan back.

I had been assigned a high-profile retrieval mission to fetch the Wolverine alongside deadpool, the anti-hero mercenary that apparently everyone in the TVA despised. I still haven't found one person who even tolerates him.

But I turnt this mission down. They were using me for bait to bring Logan to them and do God knows what to him. I wasn't going to be an accomplice to that.

I didn't hate my job here. I suppose it got interesting most days. Sometimes, we got iron-Man variants stumble in. Most days, it was Loki variants, and on the rare occasion, scarlet witch.

Any other day felt like being an accountant.

And the week after, I dealt with my last Loki variant. I took the Wolverine job. Of course they were ecstatic but I wasn't doing it for their pleasure or for the sacred fuck around of the timeline. No, I just wanted my Logan back.

And God help anyone who would try to stop me.

-

The void.

Deserted, hot, dry, and empty beyond horizon. My suit was clinging to me. By the end of this walk, I swore my body was going to be stained yellow and blue. I'd look like a van gogh paint palette in 20 minutes.

Groaning, I began to stumble toward a billboard, or what looked like a sign of some kind. Shade. Finally some fucking shade.

I wanted to find Logan. I really did. But I wasn't going to be able to do it. Without some fucking help that was for sure. I don't even know if he's here. But the TVA tazed me with their stick things and now I'm here.

"You know if you wanted shade that badly, you should have grown out your hair. It can be an awesome umbrella or the perfect love handles"

I didn't know who the fuck was talking to me. But I saw in the distance a red suit I felt I had definitely seen before. Black patches. God be damned blurry vision.

"Who the fuck is that?" I groaned, leaning my head against a pole.

I watched as they approached closer.

"Fuck" I cursed to myself.

"God you look like shit don't you?"

Deadpool.

---

Logans arms were hard. They weren't comfortable sleeping on, but they were comfortable to hold and to be held by. He always smelt like woodfire and sweat. To be near him was to drown in the scent of the infamous wolverine.

Not a single person had ever expected him to smell of roses and sunshine. Well to me he smelt like heaven, but if you had ever asked Charles Xavier he'd say 'deodorant exists Logan. Use it'

It wasn't fair how badly I wanted him back.

"Is she gonna wake up or what? We have a bald freak to kill"

Wade's annoying voice. Fuck. I might have accidentally stumbled into hell, I fear.

"Shut the fuck up for once would you?" I mumbled.

Slowly, I sat up and instantly came face with four people. All confused and all faintly recognisable. One, obviously, was deadpool. One may have been blade, and I didn't know the other two. But I knew my back was killing me and I needed to fix that shit.

"Where the fuck am I?" I asked as I rolled my back into place.

"You're in the void. Welcome to hell" A female voice spoke.

"And who are all of you?"

One by one.

Blade

Elektra

Gambit

And for any other reason, Wade introduced himself. Even though I already fucking knew him.

"I need to get out of Here"

"Ya know ya could just stay, ya much safer ere"

Gambit. God, I could never understand him.

"Why are you all here?" I asked them. Mostly wade but I asked it as a collective.

"Well," Wade pointed to himself. "I'm here with wolvie, and we're gonna kill a bald freakazoid with all these gu-" he said in an unbearably happy tone.

"I'm sorry." I put my hand up "wolvie?"

"Yeah," Elektra spoke, "like wolverine?"

At the point I was convinced I had actually died. I was dead. The heat had finally gotten to me, and this was the price I paid for not dying honourably.

"Ya all good? Ya look pale."

I was too focused on 'wolvie' to listen to gambit. Wolverine. Wolverine. Wolverine. Gods above, I was going to throw up.

"I'm sorry, Wolverine?!" My mouth fell agape.

"Yeah, big yellow kitty, died heaps of times but never really dies. Sweaty all the time. Heroic and brave. Used to bang the phoenix lady"

I held my hand up again "Yeah Yeah I get it"

I looked around and stood up. The air was humid, and through a small window I could see trees. A forest? How in the fuck is there a forest here?

"Is he here?"

"Wolvie? Yeah, he's just there" Wade pointed behind me.

The scent, oh, that familiar scent. That intoxicating smell. It invades my sinuses.

"Who the fuck is this?"

It sounds just like him. It sounds like gaining memories back. It sounds like losing them. It sounds like campfires on the farm. It sounds like logans late night wood chopping activities.

I turnt around. Yellow. And blue. Blue. Yellow. Azure. Sapphire. Amber. Sunflower.

"Why the fuck is she dressed like me?" He grumbled

Blade hummed. "I was waiting for some to mention it"

There he was. His gruff face. Aged. Still lined in scruffy brown hair. Kitty ears still in his hair. Frown lines. Deep brown eyes and memories all over.

"Logan"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shoved my shoulder as he walked right passed me "how the fuck does she know my name? Who the fuck is this wade?!"

He doesn't remember me.

Hedoesntremmeberme he does n, he he , rmme.

My head hit the floor with a thud. It felt like taking a bullet for Logan for the first time. The first time ever felt something real.

-

"You know him don't you?" Wade asked.

"Better than anyone"

The camp-fire crackled Amber in the dark forest. It brought back memories I didn't know If I wanted to keep or throw away.

"He's someone very important to me" I sighed

"He doesn't remember you. Do you know why?" Elektra asked

I tried to hold back tears. I missed xaviers' wise advice. I missed hearing Jean's voice tell me to relax and drink tea. I missed storms taking me for walks to clear my head. And I missed most of all, logans endless effort to help me.

"No. No, I don't know!" I threw one of my daggers at a tree, and it hit with a splitting thud into the wood. Elektra flinched, worried the tree would split completely and fall.

"I just want him back. It wasn't supposed to be like this"

No. Not like this at all.

[justevelynnnn]

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Master list ‧͙⁺˚*･

(requests r currently open, rn i’m focused on the xmen🙃❤️ )

Keys -

nsfw/smut : 🔞

slightly nsfw/ suggestive: 🔥🌸

fluff: 🌸

angst: 🔥

female reader: 🚺

🤍Attack on Titan

Nerd armin:

Nervous Nerd -Nerd!Armin x blk!reader 🚺🌸

Seeing Armins dorm - Nerd!Armin x blk!reader 🚺🌸

Sending Armin a thirst trap on “accident” - Nerd!Armin x blk!reader 🚺🔥🌸

Dreaming of you - Nerd!Armin x blk!reader 🚺🔞

Nerd Armin headcanons

No title - Nerd!Armin x blk!reader. 🚺🔞

Armin

Happy halloween 🎃 - Armin x blk!reader 🚺🔥🌸

If armin was goth… - Asot Armin x goth!reader🚺🌸

Extra

What the boys got you for Christmas -

Connie

Being connie’s sneaky link - plug!Connie x blk!reader🚺🔞

You hopped into my heart! - plug!Connie x blk!reader🚺

🤍X-Men

The beginning of my Wolverine obsession🤞🏾

The beginning of my Scott Summers obsession 😭

Logan Howlett/Wolverine:

Wolverine nsfw alphabet 🔞

my favorite gif ever🤍🤍🤍

Need that. - Worst!Wolverine x blk!reader 🔞/🚺

I will always love you - Wolverine x reader 🔥 & 🌸

Craving - Logan x afab!reader 🔞/🚺

Protective logan x afab!reader - Logan x pregnant!reader 🚺

I want to be more- Logan x reader 🚺🔞🔥

Im so horribly down bad for dofp!Logan😭😭 🔞🚺

Cat!Logan

Deadpool:

Say whattt? - Deadpool x blk!reader 🚺 🔥/ 🌸

Anything Deadpool and Wolverine

Wade and Logan texting

Wade likes Logan’s eyebrow thing

Wade and Logan living together headcanons

You move in with Wade and Logan

Worst wolverine’s “first” Halloween

Scott Summers:

My Cyclops headcanons

He’s better - Cyclops x reader 🔞/🚺

He’s better pt 2 (really mainly part of a request). 🔥🌸 & 🌸 /🚺

Slightly submissive Scotty 🤍🤞🏾 🔞/🚺

Scott tries 🍃✨ (Scott x Mutant!reader)🔥🌸/ 🚺

Remy Lebeau/ Gambit🃏✨:

Dating Gambit moodboard

🤍My hero academia

Black and purple - Shinsou x blk!reader🚺🌸

Black and purple, part two - Shinsou x blk!reader🚺🌸🔥

[wrinniewrites]

A Fool's Gambit | Manon Blackbeak

SUMMARY ↣ in a world with little hope, you find solace in the gold, dead eyes of manon blackbeak.

WARNINGS ↣ smut, blood, injury, mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, suicidal ideation, allusions to sa, death, and worst of all—hope.

WORD COUNT ↣ 5.6k

PAIRINGS ↣ manon blackbeak x fem!reader

“My uncle will be displeased with me should he learn it is I who takes up all of your precious time.” Elide Lochan murmurs from where she sweeps the already spotless floor beside you, a task unfit for a lady of her status. 

“Then I shall have to unleash the wrath of Adarlan upon him,” you quip, watching her intently. “Besides, who else might I conspire with.” The black haired beauty manages a faint smile at that.

“What is it that you plan this time, Princess?” The Lady of Perranth inquires, trying, and failing, to conceal her growing interest.

“Nothing grand,” you beam, eyes darting to the horde of wyverns that enter the aerie one after the other. However, your attention is fixed upon the white haired female standing amongst them, stance alone commanding respect.

Elide pales, glancing between you and the host of witches. “Please tell me this scheme of yours has nothing to do with the iron-teeth witches I fear may kill us for looking at them wrong?” She all but begs, face scrunched up, already knowing the answer upon catching your mischievous grin.

“I make no promises, Lady Lochan.”

And before she can blink, you are already sauntering toward the thirteen. She reaches for your arm in warning, but you simply brush her off. To her absolute horror, you stroll past each and every witch, paying no heed to their stares.

Instead, stopping right before the Blackbeak Elide did not dare even look at.

“What.” The white haired witch barks out, and the Lady of Perranth flinches at the sound from across the room. You, however, remain steadfast. Your friend feels her chest tighten as yet another witch appears, this one with golden hair, staring appraisingly.

Uncaring of the burnt gold eyes burning into your soul, you only tilt your head curiously, smiling a pretty smile.

“This one might be mad,” you hear one of her thirteen mutter, a grin in her voice.

The wing-leader shoots Vesta a warning glare, not bothering to glance your way, only breezing by you boredly.

It is your voice that halts her step.

“I wish to ride,” you announce, not looking back as the white haired witch turns to face you once more.

Elide almost passes out from where she stands.

Manon’s eyes narrow, following your gaze to Abraxos. She smells not an ounce of fear on you, remaining unsure whether you refer to witch or wyvern.

When you meet her gaze over your shoulder, the glint in your eyes makes her wonder if the answer might be both. The witch barely allows a smirk to grace her lips as you hold her stare before spinning on her heel without another word.

Elide dares not breathe until you are safely back at her side. Your lips bearing a wide grin as you approach

“Perhaps one day, I too shall fly.”

If Manon is surprised to find you seated at Duke Perrington’s side during her private audience, she does not show it.

It is only after his speech is at its end does he notice her gaze flicker to you.

“I suppose I should introduce you,” the man grumbles in his seat.

“Wing-leader, this is the Princess of Adarlan.” His words are dull as he offers a lazy gesture in your direction. “You may do with her as you please during your stay, so long as she remains in one piece.”

Manon notes the way your jaw tightens at his statement. So you were an unwilling guest, she deduces.

The witch does not deign him with a response, nor make the mistake glance your way again. She simply continues pressing him about the Wastes; her home. Even when she feels your curious gaze on her, she does not turn.

It will be days before the wing-leader even sees you again. But the hollow eyes of Adarlan’s Princess do not cease to haunt her.

It is late when Elide stumbles upon you in one of Morath's corridors, almost crashing into you with the force of her fear, shoulders shaky and eyes watering.

Your strong grasp holds her by the arms, keeping her steady as soft inquiries fall past your lips. Hushed whispers float through the stone castle as she speaks of her interaction with the white haired witch, your gaze hardening as she continues.

You are grateful she is too caught up in her own fear to see the tear in your dress, the bruises lining your forearms. Just as you are thankful for the distraction she provides.

With a snap of your fingers, your cousin is at your side. Ordered to guard and contain you by Duke Perrington. Though you suppose he is no longer Roland Havilliard. He does not speak as you command him to escort Elide to her rooms, and you do not watch as he mindlessly obeys.

You ignore the visions of depthless black eyes and dark collars that rise to your mind. Instead, finding yourself making the reluctant journey up the tower’s steps, muscles aching with each movement.

The wing-leader appears before you as you reach the top, likely having scented you. She does not speak as you welcome yourself into her quarters, watching you with caution.

“Do not trouble Elide with your ventures,” you begin, features impassive to your thoughts. “She is innocent in this war.” Are the only words you speak in explanation, and the witch raises an unimpressed brow.

“And you are not?” Is all she asks.

“Few are.” You answer vaguely.

Her burnt gold eyes travel your body from head to toe assessment, and you resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest.

“You know, most would not dare to speak to me as you do.” She takes a threatening step forward, eyes glinting when you do not back away.

“I am not most,” you answer grimly. Curiously, none of the excitement —hope— she found the day you gazed upon her wyvern lingered.

“No,” she agrees. “But I suspect that means you taste far better,” her iron nails shoot out. Perhaps that might get a reaction out of you. And how she did love playing with her food.

“Kill me if you wish,” your tone remains flat as she stalks toward you, “it would be a mercy.”

Manon smirks at that. “I do not wish to kill you,” her tongue darts out to swipe across her iron teeth. “Not yet, at least.” 

Your brows furrow, but you do not balk as her nails dig into your chin, tilting your head so that you may forcibly meet her gaze.

“What do you say, Princess? Do you still wish to ride?” She rasps, her lips a breath from yours.

You still for a moment, shoulders tense. “If I say yes,” you pause thoughtfully, “will you do me a favour?” Your eyes drift to her lips, and Manon knows she has you, but she still bites.

“And what might that entail?” 

“Freedom,” you speak softly, and her grip tightens.

She raises her thumb to brush over your bottom lip, “we’ll see.”

“And if I say no?” You dare to ask, leaning into her touch all the while. It had been so long since you’d found any semblance of pleasure in this cruel life.

The witch grins. “You won’t,” and in a flash her lips are pressed to yours in a bruising kiss. The hand at your jaw travelling to your neck, eliciting a gasp that parts your lips for her tongue.

She walks you backwards until your back is pressed to the cool stone wall, pinned by her hips. A whine escapes you when Manon squeezes her hand around your throat, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood. It is only then that she pulls back, burnt gold eyes hooded as she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth playfully. 

You barely have a chance to catch your breath before her mouth is at your neck, tongue swiping over the blood that trickles from where her iron nails punctured your skin. She hums, pleased when you tilt your head back and a moan parts your lips.

“You do taste nice, Princess ,” Manon murmurs as her teeth scrape your neck. Hands roam your body freely, her knee parts your legs with ease, settling between them. You reach blindly for her riding leathers for support, heat pooling between your legs.

She grins at the way your eyes widen when she uses her iron claws to tear a line right down the centre of your dress. You shiver when an icy breeze caresses your bare breasts, nipples hardening. Manon makes quick work of bringing her lips to them, sucking and biting, you arch into her touch.

“You’re dripping,” she purrs, removing her fingers from your core in spite of your complaints. Instead, you watch, enamoured, as she brings them to her own lips, tongue darting out to suck them clean. Moaning at the taste, she crashes her lips into yours a second time, forcing you to taste yourself on her tongue.

She allows clumsy hands to strip her of her own leathers, finding enjoyment in watching you attempt to focus as she rakes her nails over your thighs and stomach teasingly. You are reduced to pathetic whimpers when her fingers slide between your legs and you clench around nothing.

Her eager mouth swallows your sounds greedily as her fingers return, slipping between your legs once more. Finding your bundle of nerves with ease, she circles vigorously. You are embarrassed to admit you almost came from that alone.

“Manon,” you plead when she slows her pace tantalisingly. “Please,” you beg, bucking your hips to seek friction. The witch only raises an unimpressed brow.

“Please, what?” She demands.

“Please,” you say again, hands reaching desperately for her, pulling her closer. “Please fuck me.” She smirks, and for a moment you think she’ll abandon you entirely for daring to touch her, leaving you high and dry.

Instead, a moan loud enough to echo through Morath is ripped from your lips as two fingers plunge into you. All while her thumb continues to rub at your clit. At first, her strokes are slow, gentle even, agonisingly so. But when your own nails dig into her skin with need, she thrusts into you knuckles deep, hard enough to have you falling over the edge pitifully fast.

Only she does not pull away then for she is finished with you yet. Her pace turns tortuous. And in just a few short touches you are reaching your high again, begging her to stop. And when she does not, tears glitter in your eyes. Then, and only then does the witch show mercy.

Your ears are ringing by the time she has had her way with you, chest rising and falling with each laboured breath you take. As you blink away the blurriness, you realise she is the only reason you remain on two feet, for your body is limp in her arms.

Once you are recovered enough to stand on your own, two rough hands grip your shoulders, forcing you to your knees hard enough to leave a dull ache; a reminder. Her slim fingers weave through your hair before tightening, urging you forward in a wordless command. 

“Your friend plots her escape,” Manon’s voice is tainted by exhaustion as she lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Immediately you know she refers to Elide.

You turn to face her from where you lie, bare skin covered only by a thin sheet. It is the second week you have spent in her bed. For you found yourself returning to her chambers the very day after the first, and the next, and the next.

The witch greets you with a smug smirk every time.

She does not ask after the strange bruises that litter your skin, and for that you are thankful. Though she will come to regret it one day.

“Good.” You say in response to her statement, and the witch’s brows pinch in confusion. “It means she still has hope,” you answer her wordless question.

“And you do not?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“I am beyond hoping,” you whisper sombrely before forcing a smile to your lips. “But fun is not entirely lost on me,” you lift your hand to her skin, mindlessly trailing a line on her collarbone with the tip of your finger.

Manon stiffens at your touch. You cannot help but wonder if in time she may soften. The idea is quickly lost on you, moving to retract. Only she catches your wrist in a painfully tight grip. You grimace but do not make any move to pull away. Instead you raise your brows in silent questioning when her burnt gold eyes deign to meet your own. You frown when her nostrils flare.

“You are with child,” she murmurs, surprise clear in her voice despite her face remaining stoic. “How long have you known?” She watches the way your frown deepens, biting the inside of your cheek. “You did not know,” she answers herself.

She does not ask of the who, and you almost wish she would. But deep down, you both know her mind already holds the answer.

Not another word passes your lips that night.

Pulling back the sheets grimly, you feel bile rise to your throat as you spare a glance at your stomach. You know the witch watches you keenly, but cannot bring yourself to care as tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Instead, you opt to turn for the open window, feeling only the icy breeze and burnt gold orbs on your back as you will yourself to sleep. 

Just as the darkness threatens to consume you whole, the faintest skim of fingertips along your stomach keeps you on the cusp of sleep. The covers are then pulled up to your neck, and you allow yourself to find peace in the dreamworld.

You do not remember it the next morning.

Elide finds you in the aerie the very next day, watching the wyverns intently.

“What troubles you today, Princess?” She asks, noting your features tainted by exhaustion. But when you turn to face her she does not find the grave look she expects.

“I have been sitting here for more hours than I can count, Elide, and what I have discovered is most fascinating.” Your eyes glimmer with each word, though the smile you wear does not quite reach your eyes.

“And what is it that you have discerned?” 

“They are much like us, you know.” You report grimly. “Tortured, but hopeful creatures,” you say, carefully observing Abraxos and Narene, Asterin’s wyvern. Elide does not fully understand your statement until she follows your wavering gaze to the white haired witch at her gentle beast’s side.

“Hope is not lost on you yet, Princess?” She asks, recalling how adamant you had been in your argument only a month prior. ‘It is a doomed world we live in, and one would be a fool to even consider the prospect of change.’ You had once said.

“I fear I no longer possess the answer to that particular question.” Your brows furrow in thought, hands twirling the flower you cradle in your hands. 

“Do you think people can change, Lady Lochan?” 

The question confuses her. She first thinks of her Uncle Vernon, and finds herself frowning doubtfully. But then she tunes her mind to you, of how you had unknowingly given her a hope that had been all but lost for the last ten years.

“I would like to believe so,” is all she can offer. You nod once, twice, before rising to your feet. She does not stop you as you make your way to the witch and her wyvern.

Manon’s attention is drawn to you the second you so much as glance in her direction. No one can say whether you came to the aerie that day for her, or she for you. But the fact remains that every living being within the space could feel the tension lingering between you.

She raises her perfectly sculpted brow as you approach, eyeing the flower you hold with caution. The witch is surprised when you stroll right by her, though she does not show it.

Instead, you stop directly before her wyvern, flower outstretched in your hand. A rare laugh escapes your lips when he nudges your hand softly, sniffing. Abraxos then lets out what you can only assume is a sound of delight, nuzzling into your palm.

“I think he rather likes me,” you glance back at Manon with a grin, and she frowns in return. She does not enjoy the feeling it stirs in her chest; it is one of discomfort. 

Her gentle beast huffs at her expression, almost knowingly, and the witch rolls her eyes. “He recognises your scent,” Manon explains, not bothering to gesture to herself. And you almost allow yourself to smile at the idea of her smelling of you.

“When we first met, I asked you for a ride.” You say, running your hands over Abraxos’ scales, who hums in content. “Will you really make me ask a second time?”

“And here I thought you were talking about me.”

Your eyes brighten at her words, but then she finds her gaze drifting to your stomach and you frown. “Perhaps another day,” she excuses stiffly, and you nod solemnly.

“Perhaps another day,” you repeat.

The sun has long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you finally hear the footsteps that belong only to Manon Blackbeak. 

You sit curled beneath the window, neck craned so that you might look upon the stars. When her pace quickens in the stairwell, a rare flicker of fear passes over you. You know then that she has figured it out.

You know not of where she was, nor how long it has been since she left, only that she was gone. 

The moment she passes the threshold her eyes dart to yours, burnt gold irises swirling with fury. Manon is at your side before you can blink, but your vision has already begun to blur. She is too late.

“What have you done?” Manon demands, iron nails digging into your arms. 

“For once, I have done as I wish.” A simple smile adorns your lips

Something brews in her burnt gold eyes as they dip to your stomach, the red staining it, something you almost mistake for worry. But you are not so foolish as to believe your own delusions.

“You are a fool,” the witch sneers.

A careless laugh bubbles from your throat. “A fool I may be, but a free one at that.”

She scowls, “not if I have anything to say about it,” hauling your limp body into her arms.

It is only then your eyes widen in a blind panic. 

“No.” you whisper, and blood spills from your lips. “No.” You say again, using the last of your strength to trash in her arms. “No, please no.” A feeble attempt to free yourself.

“You are mine,” Manon grunts as she tightens her grip. “Mine to have. Mine to dictate. And I say you will not die today, Princess, so die you shall not.”

“Please,” you beg, voice taut. 

Her gaze steels. “You are mine.” She repeats, and you feel tears pool in your eyes. A soft shake of your head in disbelief follows, freedom so close, yet so far. Perhaps if you could— you blindly reach for the gaping wound in your stomach.

“Stop.” Manon orders, reaching to grasp your wrist. Her iron claws do not dig into your skin as you expect. There is a strain in her voice, and when you look up, her eyes are filled by a wild panic. Your wrist slackens.

“Good.” Is the last word you hear before your vision fades and the world goes black.

When you wake you are in Manon’s chambers, you recognise the room even with your eyes closed.

“And so she lives,” someone speaks, but the voice is muffled, distant. It is a great effort to peel your eyes open, throat dry as you attempt to speak. A flash of flaming red hair and a cup of water is pressed to your lips.

“Thank you,” you rasp, and the witch grins in acknowledgement. Only for her back to stiffen as she shifts away from you, eyes darting for the door. A moment later, Manon steps past the threshold, Asterin hot on her tail.

Burnt gold eyes immediately dart to you, alert. “You’re awake.” Manon swallows. 

When you refuse to meet her gaze, her jaw tightens. “Out.” She orders, and with a wave of her hand Vesta is gone. Only three of you remain now.

“The babe?” You question, voice hollow as you finally raise your head. When Asterin gazes at you with sympathy you know it is done. You wish she wouldn’t, but you manage an appreciative glance no less.

It was better this way.

Your gaze then flickers to Manon, who stands tense by her second. Asterin does not need to be told to leave, offering a curt nod as she goes.

The silence only stretches between you two so long before you can no longer bear it. “Why?” You ask, doing everything in your power to keep your voice from cracking. She could ask you the same, but does not.

“Because I can,” her answer is simple; cold. 

You hang your head lowly in a cruel mix of disappointment and acceptance. But then her voice comes again, “because you asked for a favour,” she says, your brows furrowing. “And I intend to fulfil it.”

Your head shoots up, face contorted by a thousand questions resting at the tip of your tongue. “I answered your question, now you answer mine.” Just as you part your lips to speak, she raises her hand, commanding silence. “Who did this to you?” 

“I—”

“Do not lie to me.”

Pausing, you eye her pensively. “He did not exactly introduce himself,” you retort.

“He was here for me?” She questions, and you stare at her a moment, assessingly, before nodding. Her back straightens, and you can almost feel how hard she resists the iron claws threatening to shoot free.

“So why,” she breathes, “did I find you in my chambers with a blade in your stomach?”

You fight the urge to grimace. “I suppose he thought if he could not take you, taking your bed warmer might cause you harm enough to satisfy his handler.” You offer a faux smile. “He was a fool to believe so.”

She is silent, deathly so. When the words come, you do not expect them.

“I will kill him.”

“You have a visitor,” Manon announces, albeit begrudgingly. And you immediately try to rise from the thick covers, pausing when iron claws shoot out in warning. She only stands once you raise your hands in surrender, laying back with a roll of your eyes. 

Elide comes bursting into the room the second the witch opens the door, stumbling over her feet to reach you. Her eyes shine when she makes it to your side, and you lift your hand to her cheek absently, faintly aware of Manon’s lingering presence,

“You are well?” You ask, and the Lady of Perranth gapes.

The witch leaves the room with a glance over her shoulder, surprised to find your gaze on her. She does not understand the look you give her, for it is one of mixed emotions. As though you thank her for going, but plead for her to stay all the same. Manon leaves before she can think further on it.

“You are faced with death, but still ask after me?” Elide shakes her in exasperation. Suddenly overcome, she reaches for your hands. “I do not know what I would do without you, Princess.”

“You would be just fine,” you assure, but the ravenette frowns in disagreement, glancing behind her.

“I am surprised they even allowed me to see you.” When your brows furrow, she continues in a hushed whisper. “The wing-leader has been on edge ever since—” she gestures to you. “Even Perrington grows displeased with her refusal to let a soul near you.” 

“Then I suppose you, my friend, are one lucky lady,” you quip, but your mind stirs with thoughts you never allowed yourself to have in the past. Ones of hope. 

A groan passes your lips when you shift, roused from sleep by the pain it causes your stitches. When your eyes flutter open, you find burnt gold ones already on you.

“Manon?” You rasp, yawning sleepily. The witch blinks from where she lies on her side, a silent acknowledgement. You mindlessly shuffle closer, seeking warmth. Too tired to wonder why she does not turn away, you draw near enough to hear her short, sharp breaths.

“I shall take you to the skies on Abraxos,” the witch is hesitant as she lays a hand upon your hip, careful not to hurt you. “So that you may know true freedom.” Her body freezes when you press your face to her neck, hot air spilling from your lips, sending a chill down her stiff spine.

“This is enough for me,” you murmur. 

It is all so different from anything she knows. From the touch she has given you to elicit pleasure. From the same favours you have returned to her, only gentler. No, this is like nothing she has ever known.

She does not know what to make of it. Her desire for it.

And when you wake the next morning, Manon is gone. 

It is days before she returns to you, and you are finally able to move freely after the incident. “Princess?” A voice draws you from sleep, and you find the witch sitting at your side, peering down at you.

“You’re back,” you whisper into the darkness.

The Blackbeak heir hums softly, her touch oddly gentle as she reaches for your neck. You do not flinch, not when her hands only seek to caress the smooth skin thoughtfully. Instead, you wait for the words to find her.

“You do not bear the same collar they have used on your brother,” she frowns, staring at you as though you are a puzzle she cannot solve. “Why?”

You jerk upright. “Dorian wears a collar?” 

“You did not know.” Manon observes, feeling foolish for asking. Though you show no anger towards her. Saying nothing, your gaze finds the open window. It does little to hide the tears in your eyes, the moon’s dull glow illuminating your fragile features.

The witch feels an uncomfortable urge to reach out to you. But, “I asked you a question,” is all she can think to say.

When you turn back to her, your face is hardened, an unnerving calm seeping into your bones. “They enjoy it,” you mutter spitefully. “Breaking me to their will, knowing they do not need a collar to have their way with me.”

Something inside the witch hardens at that.

You seem to read the words on the tip of her tongue, the anger —the possession— burning deep within her. “I am just your bed warmer.” You remind her, remind yourself. Despite the fact she has not touched you in days, but refuses to leave your side nonetheless. 

“Do not trouble yourself with my mess.”

You rise from the sheets with a gasp, mind haunted by the depthless black eyes of your cousin, Roland. The ones that now rob the vibrant life from your own brother. Manon’s iron nails shoot out, as if sensing your distress, but she does not wake.

Quiet as the night, you slip from the bed, tip-toeing your way across the cool floors. You welcome the chill creeping up your spine, better than the eternal numbness. Finding your place by the large window, you peer out into the starry sky. You only wish it would swallow you whole, rip you from this nightmare.

A groan from the witch jerks your head to the side. Her eyes remain shut, but you know you have woken the beast. For her arm now lays outstretched; an offering, a command.

You wordlessly return to her bed; the only place you feel safe, it is a cage all the same.

When Manon tugs you into her side, so that your head may rest upon her chest, you are too tired to care of what it may mean. It is the kind of exhaustion that might creep within the cracks in your broken soul. And you no longer had the strength to fight it.

You wish to feel all and nothing at once. 

To forget the never ending storm wreaking havoc on your mind. So you absently hook your leg over the witch, moving to straddle her. Strong hands easily find your hips, burnt gold eyes flashing open.

She does not complain when your lips meet hers in a heated kiss, fingers trailing up your stomach and along your thighs. There is a hunger in her gaze when you pull away, but she remains hesitant, reluctant even. 

Impatiently, you fumble for her wrist, drawing it between your legs. Manon groans at the slick she finds, how easily riled up you are. But when she does not move, you begin to plead. “Touch me,” you urge, lips travelling from jaw to neck. The hand on your thigh squeezes in warning.

“Please,” you breathe, desperate, and the damn breaks.

Fingers weave into your locks, tugging, and then her lips are on yours again. You roll your hips, a moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. Manon bears a pleased grin when you continue to fuck yourself on her fingers.

But she cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss.

Even with your skin pressed to hers, lips locked, she has the overwhelming feeling that she has lost you entirely. 

True to her word, Manon takes you to the aerie a whole two weeks after she promised. And this time, you do not protest.

She watches for every twitch of your lips, seeming pleased with herself when you bear a grin that does not leave you from the moment you take to the skies above. When Abraxos roars, a laugh bubbles from your lips, and you cannot help but wonder if he does it for your amusement.

When you reach the clouds you know she is right. There is no truer freedom than the heavens above. “Thank you,” you murmur, unsure whether she hears. If she does, the witch does not respond, though you feel the tension in her shoulders ease.

Suddenly, Abraxos dips, and you're soaring between the clouds. A low chuckle escapes the witch when you yelp, tightening your arms around her waist. “Not so fearless after all, Princess,” she quips, voice carrying over the wind.

Rolling your eyes, you dare to pinch her side. The witch repays you with a threatening glare over her shoulder, iron teeth bared, but harmless. Your heart drops to your stomach when the wyvern lands on a mountain peak at her command, teeth snapping on impact.

She slides from his back with practiced ease, and you are almost surprised she offers a hand to aid you. A rare, true smile tugs at your lips. And Manon is confused to find it extends not only to the skies, but her as well.

However, once your feet hit the ground it is wiped from your features. As if the very step brings you back to a life never ceasing to haunt you, caging you. Her hand lingers on your own, for what purpose, she does not know, only that it feels right.

Her back straightens when it is you who slips your hand from her grasp.

A vulnerability shines in her burnt gold eyes, no longer dulled by years of familial oppression. Were you not so caught up in the winds of your past you may have noticed. Instead your back is to her, eyes clouded as you stare into the abyss below. 

“I was not always this way, you know.” The soft confession is so quiet only the breeze carries it to Manon.

When you continue, she listens. As you go on about the whims of your childhood, the fun, the hope, the love. And while she knows she is different, never has it struck her quite so hard as the words rolling from your tongue. 

“I was made to be this way, Manon.” 

There is meaning in your statement, the witch knows this much, but she is not sure she wishes to face it.

“But anything can be unmade, undone.” You say, and she refuses to acknowledge what that may mean for her. She is yet not ready.

She is even less prepared when you turn to face her once more. Tears line your cheeks, but a smile adorns your precious lips. She has never known a prettier sight.

“Thank you,” you smile. For everything.

The witch frowns. “You already said that.”

“Then I’m sorry,” you voice quietly.

“Sorry?” She takes a step forward. You take one back.

You smile wider, “that I will not be there—”

Her frown deepens, eyes flickering behind your.

“—to see you undo this cruel world.” You raise your arms, peace and longing drawn onto your delicate features. And then you lean back, giving yourself to the wind.

She is too slow. 

The last thing you see is the skies.

She does not reach you.

Abraxos roars.

She does not hear it. 

Your words echo in her mind.

“People change, Manon.” 

Your voice already fades.

“For better, or for worse.”

You wished for better.

So a better world she would give you.

Even if it was too late.

i am so sorry ya'll :(((

[atlasthegreatest]

Wild Card / Barbara Gordon x Gambit! Female Reader

Y/n LeBeau is invited to join the Justice League after Hawkgirl nominates her. However, her chaotic personality and unconventional style raise eyebrows among the team. Despite their skepticism, Batman vouches for her skills, leaving everyone stunned by his rare display of trust. Y/n revels in the confusion, but her relationship with Bruce remains a mystery to the League, as they have no idea he is her pseudo-father-in-law.

Word count: 2862

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Hope you enjoy it!

The Justice League Hall of Justice was abuzz with its usual hum of activity. The greatest heroes on Earth gathered in their meeting room, a sleek, expansive space with towering windows that overlooked Metropolis. Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash were seated at the table, joined by Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter. They were waiting on one final person.

“And remind me again why we’re interviewing her?” Hal asked arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. “She’s not exactly… traditional.”

“She’s effective,” Diana said calmly, adjusting her golden bracers. “And her powers could provide us with a strategic advantage in the field. Not everyone fights with sheer force or speed.”

“She does blow stuff up,” Barry chimed in, a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “I mean, I looked her up. Kinetic energy manipulation is cool, but she’s kind of… chaotic.”

Superman, ever the optimist, smiled. “Let’s meet her first. Hawkgirl was the one who suggested her, and she doesn’t hand out recommendations lightly. If she sees potential in Y/n, then we owe it to her to give this a fair shot.”

The doors to the meeting room hissed open, and in strolled Y/n LeBeau, kinetic card manipulator extraordinaire, and, unbeknownst to them, the girlfriend of a certain Barbara Gordon. She wore her usual attire: sleek black pants, a leather jacket, and fingerless gloves, with her signature deck of cards tucked into her pocket. Her gait was relaxed, her grin easy and confident, but her sharp eyes scanned the room with practiced precision.

“Bonjour, y’all,” Y/n greeted, her southern drawl as thick as ever. She flicked a glowing card into the air, catching it deftly before tucking it away. “Quite the welcome wagon ya got here.”

Barry blinked. “Did she just—bonjour? Are you French?”

“Cajun, cher,” Y/n corrected with a wink. “Not quite da same thing.”

Diana inclined her head politely. “Y/n LeBeau, thank you for coming. We wanted to discuss the possibility of you joining the Justice League.”

Y/n sauntered to the table and perched herself on the edge rather than taking a seat, much to Hal’s visible irritation. “Oh, I heard. Y’all want me on the big stage now, huh? Feels like I hit the jackpot.”

Hal frowned. “Do you take anything seriously?”

Y/n smirked at him, her voice dripping with charm. “Sugah, if I didn’t take things seriously, I wouldn’t be here.”

Diana interrupted before Hal could retort, her tone firm. “Your reputation precedes you, Y/n. You’ve handled significant threats and seem to have a knack for improvisation in critical situations. But we also know you work solo—or with small teams. How do you see yourself fitting into the Justice League?”

Y/n shrugged, casual as ever. “I get along fine with folks who don’t take themselves too seriously.” Her eyes flicked to Hal, who scowled, then to Diana, who remained impassive. “Y’all don’t mind a little flair, do ya? I ain’t exactly the silent type.”

Barry leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. “So, what’s your connection to Batman? Hawkgirl said you’ve worked with him.”

Y/n’s grin widened at the mention of the Dark Knight. “Batsy? Oh, me an’ him go way back. He’s a real hoot once ya get to know him.”

The room fell silent. Batsy?

Superman blinked, leaning forward slightly. “You… know Batman personally?”

Y/n tilted her head, feigning mock confusion. “Oh, did I forget to mention? Me an’ ol’ pointy ears, we’re real tight. Swap war stories, trade advice… he even lets me call ‘im Bruce.”

Hal choked on the sip of water he’d just taken. “Bruce?”

“You’re joking,” Barry said, wide-eyed.

Diana narrowed her eyes slightly, her warrior instincts kicking in. “Batman doesn’t… bond easily. How exactly did you earn his trust?”

Y/n leaned back, tossing a card in the air and catching it effortlessly. “Let’s just say I’ve done a favor or two for Gotham. Helped out a red-haired gal he cares about a lot. Guess he figured I was worth keepin’ around.”

Diana exchanged a glance with Superman, both of them intrigued. “And you’ve worked with him directly?”

“Oh, plenty,” Y/n said breezily. “Bats even taught me a few tricks. Y’all ever hear him growl at a thug so hard they practically wet themselves? Works like a charm, lemme tell ya.”

Barry burst into laughter, but Hal looked utterly baffled. “I… I can’t picture Batman willingly working with someone like you.”

Y/n shrugged, the grin never leaving her face. “Guess that’s your problem, sugah.”

The doors hissed open again, and, as if summoned by sheer force of will, Batman himself strode into the room, his cape billowing behind him. Everyone turned to look at him, their questions about Y/n immediately silenced. Bruce’s gaze swept across the room before landing on Y/n, his expression unreadable.

Y/n’s grin only widened. “Speak o’ the devil.”

“LeBeau,” Batman said, his tone even, but there was something in his voice—something that only those who knew him well might catch. A faint note of familiarity.

“Hey there, Batsy,” Y/n said, standing up and casually flipping a card in her hand. “Miss me?”

Hal’s jaw dropped. Superman blinked. Diana raised an eyebrow, her curiosity now fully piqued. Barry whispered under his breath, “Oh my God, it’s true.”

Batman ignored their reactions, addressing the room instead. “She’s capable. Skilled in infiltration, subterfuge, and combat. Her powers give her a unique advantage in high-stakes situations.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But she’s unpredictable.”

“Aw, Bats, you know you love that about me,” Y/n teased, earning a faint glare from Bruce.

Diana leaned forward slightly, studying Batman carefully. “You trust her, then?”

Bruce hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding. “I do.”

That simple statement sent a ripple of shock through the room. Y/n, as usual, didn’t miss a beat. “See? Told y’all. Batsy’s practically my biggest fan.”

Superman smiled, finally relaxing. “Well, that’s good enough for me. Welcome aboard, Y/n.”

Hal threw his hands up in exasperation. “Seriously? We’re just taking her word for it because Batman vouches for her?”

Batman’s gaze shifted to Hal, his voice low and deliberate. “You’re free to question my judgment, Hal. But don’t waste her time.”

Hal muttered something under his breath but wisely didn’t press further.

Y/n, meanwhile, stepped up beside Batman, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d caused. “Well, ain’t this just peachy? Guess y’all are stuck with me now.”

As the meeting adjourned, Y/n turned to Bruce with a sly grin. “Y’know, for a man of few words, you sure do know how t’give a glowing recommendation.”

Bruce sighed, already regretting this. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Y/n said, bumping his shoulder playfully. “Ain’t I always behaved myself?”

Bruce gave her a pointed look. Y/n laughed, her voice echoing through the hall. The rest of the League could only watch, baffled at the sight of Batman—stoic, grim Batman—walking alongside someone so… un-Batman-like.

None of them knew the truth—that Y/n’s connection to the Dark Knight wasn’t just professional. She was practically family. But that was a story for another day.

—————————

As the League members dispersed, most still reeling from Y/n’s casual familiarity with Batman, Diana lingered behind, curiosity etched on her face. Superman and Barry shared a quiet laugh about Y/n’s antics, while Hal muttered something about “needing a drink after this” before stalking off. Y/n, on the other hand, leaned casually against the meeting table, shuffling her cards and stealing occasional glances at Batman, who remained characteristically stoic.

Diana finally approached, her regal composure giving way to subtle amusement. “Y/n, if I may ask, how exactly did you and Batman become…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Friends?”

Y/n smirked, clearly enjoying the attention. “Oh, y’know. Just helped each other out here an’ there. Bats ain’t exactly the talk-about-your-feelings type, but he’s got his ways of showin’ gratitude. Ain’t that right, Batsy?”

Bruce shot her a pointed glare but didn’t deny it, which only amused Diana further.

“And this red-haired woman you mentioned?” Diana pressed gently. “She seems to be the thread connecting you and him.”

Y/n’s smirk softened slightly, a flicker of genuine affection crossing her face. “Ah, yeah. That’d be Babs—Barbara Gordon. She’s my girl.”

Diana blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Barbara Gordon? As in Oracle?”

“The very same,” Y/n said with a proud nod. “And trust me, she’s the real brains behind most o’ what we do. I’m just the one who makes a mess of things when she needs a distraction.”

Diana smiled knowingly. “Barbara is impressive. I see why Batman trusts you. If you’re someone she holds dear, it speaks volumes.”

Y/n nodded, but her smirk quickly returned. “Well, y’know, Batsy’s got a soft spot for Babs, too. Like a papa bear watchin’ over his cub.”

“LeBeau,” Batman warned his voice low and edged with that distinct don’t-push-it tone.

Y/n raised her hands in mock surrender, though her grin didn’t falter. “What? I’m just sayin’ you care, big guy. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Diana’s brow furrowed slightly, her warrior instincts picking up on something deeper. “Batman… is Barbara’s mentor, isn’t he?”

Y/n opened her mouth to speak but wisely closed it at the slight shake of Bruce’s head. She gave Diana a knowing look instead. “Let’s just say they’re tight. Like family.”

Diana studied the two of them for a moment longer, then smiled warmly. “It’s rare for anyone to break through Batman’s walls. You’re very… unique, Y/n.”

“Why, thank ya, Princess,” Y/n said with an exaggerated bow. “I do try.”

As Diana departed, Bruce turned his full attention to Y/n, his arms crossed and his patience wearing thin. “Do you ever know when to stop talking?”

Y/n grinned at him. “C’mon, Bruce. You know you love it.”

“I’m questioning that more with every minute.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” she teased, walking beside him as they left the room. “You vouched for me in front of the Justice League. That’s a big deal, y’know. Bet that cape o’ yours feels extra heavy now.”

Bruce sighed, already regretting his decision to let Y/n anywhere near the League. “This isn’t a game, Y/n. The Justice League isn’t like your usual missions. It’s dangerous. You’ll need to adapt.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smirk softening just slightly. “I know, Bruce. Don’t let the charm fool ya—I get how serious this is. But if ya trusted me enough to bring me here, I reckon I’ll do just fine.”

He studied her for a long moment before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

“No promises,” Y/n said with a wink, earning another sigh from the Dark Knight.

As they walked down the hall, Barry and Hal peeked out from around a corner, watching the exchange with wide eyes.

“I still don’t get it,” Hal muttered, gesturing vaguely at Y/n. “How does she get along with Batman of all people?”

Barry shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “I don’t know, but I kind of love it. She’s like… his polar opposite.”

Hal groaned. “That’s exactly what worries me.”

————————

Later, in the private safety of her shared apartment with Barbara, Y/n kicked off her boots and flopped onto the couch. Barbara sat nearby, a laptop open as she monitored several data feeds, but she glanced up as Y/n let out a dramatic groan.

“Rough day?” Barbara asked, smirking knowingly.

“Nah, it was a blast,” Y/n said, tossing a card in the air and watching it spin. “Your boy Bruce? Vouched for me in front of the entire Justice League. Had Hal Jordan lookin’ like he’d swallowed a lemon.”

Barbara laughed, shaking her head. “I can only imagine. How’d you manage not to blow the whole thing up?”

“Please, chérie, I’m a professional,” Y/n said with mock offense. “Besides, dad-in-law’s got my back. I think ol’ Batsy likes havin’ me around more than he lets on.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “Dad-in-law?”

“C’mon, Babs, it’s practically official. Ain’t like he’s introducin’ anyone else to his fancy little superhero club.”

Barbara chuckled, leaning over to kiss Y/n on the temple. “I’m glad it went well. Just… try not to drive Hal completely insane, okay?”

“No promises,” Y/n said with a grin, pulling Barbara close. “But hey, don’t worry—I’ll behave. Probably.”

Barbara sighed, but the warmth in her smile betrayed her amusement. Y/n, as always, was chaos incarnate, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bonus Chapter:

Y/n hadn’t been with the Justice League for long, but she had already managed to make herself a presence. While the League was still trying to figure out her chaotic style, Y/n herself was busy learning how to adapt her usual methods to work in a team environment. It was all about compromises, she’d told Barbara once, and she was starting to get the hang of it.

One night, after a particularly grueling mission that had taken them deep into a remote jungle to rescue a kidnapped scientist, Y/n and Barbara found themselves back in the relative safety of the Batcave. They’d spent hours debriefing with Bruce and the others, mapping out the operation’s flaws and victories. Now, as the adrenaline wore off, the tension between them faded into something more relaxed—if Y/n’s constant tossing and catching of cards was any indication.

“Okay, so I’ve got what we learned here down pat,” Y/n said, lounging on a recliner by the fire. “Guy’s evil genius, check. Traps, check. Skillset… hella check.”

Barbara finished her report on her laptop and turned to Y/n with a soft smile. “Good. So, what’s next? I know you’re not just here to lounge.”

Y/n tossed a card into the fire, watching it fizzle out in a small burst of energy. “Nah, just unwindin’. Needed a little relaxation after all dat punchin’ and shootin’.”

Barbara leaned back, her eyes tracing the crackling flames. “You know, the League’s still trying to figure you out. It’s like they think you’re some kind of wild card.”

“Me? Wild?” Y/n said, feigning shock. “Nah, cher, just like to keep ‘em on their toes.”

“I think it’s more than that,” Barbara said thoughtfully, her gaze meeting Y/n’s. “They see how you work with Batman and they don’t get it. And I get why—it’s not something that’s easily explained.”

Y/n leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she looked down at the flames. “Bats and I… we got history. Kinda like how you and him do.”

Barbara’s brow furrowed. “You’ve never told them, have you?”

Y/n hesitated, the light from the fire dancing across her face. “Nah, they don’t need to know. It’s not like it’s gonna help ‘em understand.”

“Bruce doesn’t hide things like that for no reason,” Barbara said quietly, a hint of worry in her voice. “Why not just tell them? Why didn't you tell me?”

Y/n shrugged, her hands moving to shuffle her cards absently. “Because it’s not their business. And for not telling you… you got enough to worry about without adding another layer of complexity.”

Barbara studied her for a moment, then leaned forward, her fingers brushing Y/n’s as she took one of the cards from her hand. “Is it so bad to know?”

Y/n smiled slightly, her eyes flicking over to Barbara’s. “Wouldn’t be the end of the world. But it’s better this way.”

“Why?” Barbara pressed gently, her voice a soft murmur.

Y/n looked away, out into the dark shadows of the Batcave. “Because if they knew the truth, they’d see me differently— you’d see me differently. I don’t want to be a charity case—just another girl with a sob story.”

Barbara reached out, taking Y/n’s hand in hers. “You’re not a charity case. You’re strong, capable… and you’ve proven yourself time and again. Maybe they need to see that more clearly.”

Y/n gave her a small smile, but it was tinged with something deeper, something that spoke of old insecurities. “It’s easier to keep it simple.”

“Not everything has to be simple,” Barbara said, squeezing Y/n’s hand gently. “You can have layers and still be strong.”

Y/n looked back at her, a quiet vulnerability in her eyes. “Guess I never really learned how to share those layers.”

“Then let me share them with you,” Barbara said softly. “I know Bruce doesn’t say it often, but he’s proud of you. I am too. And if the League knew… maybe they’d see you for who you are.”

Y/n stared into the fire for a long moment before finally nodding, a reluctant acceptance in her eyes. “Maybe.”

Barbara leaned in, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s jaw. “One step at a time, okay?”

Y/n looked at her, her smile genuine. “Yeah, okay. One step at a time.”

As the Batcave continued its watch over Gotham, Y/n, and Barbara settled into the quiet of the night, surrounded by the flicker of the flames and the steady hum of the cave’s systems. For now, Y/n was content with her secret, but Barbara’s words would linger in her mind as she prepared herself to take that next step—whether it was sharing her past or just allowing herself to be vulnerable with those she considered family.

One step at a time.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

HEY BESTIE!! just found your blog and I'm about to read your work. But I was wondering if you can write me a request? Please. One where Pedri (my love) is dating a female f1 redbull driver and how their relationship would be giving the schedule and stuff or if you don't know about f1 (idk) you can do like an actress!reader and pedri having a crush on her and pining over her? If you don't wanna do these, I completely understand! But be safe and have an amazing day/night.

Hi darling! Yes I can! Pedri is life, isn't he? Freaking precious (Even tho my weakness is Gavi😅). Tysm, I really hope you like my writing, please let me know!

I do know my bits of F1, not a really hardcore fan of it so I'm gonna take the Actress!Reader since I don't really know everything from it.

I did this while waiting for my class at Uni, so I hope you like it. And be safe too! Have a great day/night

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Hard Crushing - Pedri González x Actress!Reader

"Oh my god, Pedri. You're really watching again The Queen's Gambit?" Fernando, Pedri's brother, asked him after sitting on the couch next to him

"Yes I am, what about it?" Pedri said not taking his eyes off of the TV

"You're obsessed with her, aren't you?"

"I'm not, she's just a good actress!" Fernando gave him a look raising his eyebrows "Ok, maybe I do am a bit obsessed with her. But she's Beautiful, have you given her a good look? Fucking gorgeous" Pedri shook his head "And don't even get me started on her look in Last Night in Soho... AND! During Black Widow? My goodness" Pedri groaned already picturing you in said movies "Also, there were a few rumors saying she's going soon to be appearing in CM, it'll be awesome to see her as a doctora"

"CM?"

"Chicago MED" Pedri replied almost instantly looking at his brother crazily for not recognizing the TV show "Si aparece ahí, me encantaría tener las mil y un enfermedades solo para que me cure" (If she's appearing there, I'd love to have a thousand sickness just so she could cure me)

"Tú estas loco" (You're crazy)

"Thank god, she talks Spanish too" Pedri says out of nowhere ", that way I wouldn't embarrass myself more than I would probably do if I ever get to meet her"

... ...

"What do you mean Y/N Y/L/N will be here?" Pedri asked in disbelief stopping his training to hear the gossip from Balde, Araujo and Ansu

"Yes, she's coming to Barcelona apparently she'll be filming a movie here so she's gonna stay for a while" Araujo explained

"And she's fan of the Barça so" Balde ended

"I know she's fan of Barça, you don't have to tell me things I clearly know" Pedri stated making Gavi laugh "Tell me more about this visit, that I didn't knew about"

"¡CHICOS!" They were interrupted by Xavi "It's not time to gossip, we've a Clásico to win!"

Pedri watched Ansu, Araujo and Balde run off not without telling them a quick "We'll talk later"

... ...

"What do you mean I'll be cooking in front and for Y/N Y/L/N?" Gavi, Ansu, Alejandro, Ferran, Araujo, Lewandoski and Ter Stegen laughed out loud after hearing the news and watching their friend's reaction

"Yes, she's coming to Camp Nou for a whole day, she'll see you training, we'll be giving her a tour and after that we'll be doing a video with her and you were the chosen one. That will make you both good" One of the staff said "Or if you don't want to do it, we can have Gavi or Lewandowski, they were also very asked for"

"¡NO, YO LO HAGO!" (NO, I'LL DO IT!) Pedri yelled surprising the poor woman, the guys laughing once more before he composed himself and added a quiet "I mean... I don't have any problem to do it. I'd love to"

"Okay, it's settled then. Next Tuesday, Pedri"

Gavi speaks up after the woman left "This is your big chance, bro. Meeting Y/N Y/L/N, the girl you've been practically in love with ever since 2019"

"What if I mess up? Say something weird? What if she thinks I'm crazy?"

"I don't think you can mess it up that much, Pedri" Ansu said shaking his head "She's a normal girl, you can do this, I mean... What's the worst thing you can do or say to her?"

"Be confident" Araujo said showing him a thumbs up

... ...

Next Tuesday

Practice had already ended, you had already met briefly the players and they were practicing while you were given the little tour around Camp Nou.

Also, while you were getting makeup done, Pedri was showering and getting himself dressed.

"How will I be able to not embarrass myself in front of her, if just by hearing her name I go like if I have a worm inside me?"

"That's a bit gross, dude"

"¡Joder!" Pedri turned around quickly nearly giving himself a whiplash and soon wished he hadn't.

You were standing there right besides him.

"Hijo de...- Ya la cagué" (Son of a... I fucked it up already) Pedri mumbled to himself but you laughed completely hearing him

"También hablo en Español, cariño" (I also speak Spanish, darling) You said giggling finding really cute his awkwardness.

Truth is that you absolutely loved Pedri and were also a bit nervous, he was your favourite player currently at Barça. And meeting him was like a dream come true.

"Don't worry about it" You said "You're my favourite player and I'm sweating my ass off too" He laughed out loud turning around to see you wearing a smile on your face.

"I'm sorry, you're just... Incredible" You blushed "Like, I've seen all of your movies and series"

"You're incredible too" you said "Like... I always see your matches and you never fail to amaze me" Pedri smiled feeling himself blushing at your words.

"Thank you, it means a lot"

"What are you cooking today?"

"Honestly, I don't know" You both laugh lightly "I just hope that whatever I'm making won't give you a stomach ache"

"You can't be that bad"

"The only thing I do great is serve a glass of water and burned rice" You laughed

"I trust you" You said smiling lightly "You'll do great" You showed your fist up, waiting for him to bump his with yours, when you were called to start recording

"God, she's so beautiful" Pedri mumbled but you still heard it

"Thanks. You're pretty handsome too" He groaned making you laugh. You were teasing him but at the same time you were waiting for him to lose his nerves and you, lose yours.

... ...

Pedri thought this was the worst and best day of his life, you were chatting with him while he was cooking.

Don't get him wrong, you're beautiful and chatting with you was easy, his nerves turned into excitement while talking. But also, the talking with you made it for him a bit impossible to fully concentrate in the cooking.

He just hoped everything tasted good. Or eatable.

"This is really spicy" You said taking a bite from the chicken and coughing up a bit "Like really, really spicy" The whole crew laughed and Pedri covered his hands

"I'm sorry" He said

"No. I like it, I just wasn't expecting that much" You pronounced That heavier making them laugh once more "But still this is delicious" you gave another bite to the chicken showing a thumbs up

"Rate 0/10?"

"9" You said inmediately "For those who say Pedri can't cook"

"Yo tambien lo digo" (I also say it) Pedri, himself said it in disbelief, you liked his food.

"Probablemente me de un dolor de estómago mas tarde, pero, por ahora está buenísimo" (It'll probably give me a stomach ache later, but, for now this is good)

"Esto ha sido Cocina en el Nou, si te ha gustado deja un like y sigue al Barça en todas las redes sociales" (This has been Kitchen in the Nou, if you liked this video leave a like y follow Barça in all social medias) Pedri said as you both waved at the camera

You stood besides him giving him a hug and soon the cameras stopped rolling only for the staff to bring you a Barça shirt.

It was your size with Pedri's name and his number 8.

"Thank you!" You said smiling. Both of you posed for a picture as Pedri quickly signed the shirt for you "It was a pleasure meeting you" You said hugging him once more.

It was almost time for you to go

"CanIhaveyournumber?" He asked quickly as you blinked a few times to recover from his quickness

"Pardon?"

"Can I have your number? It was really nice meeting you too and I would love to chat with you more, without cameras if you'd like" Pedri said.

You smiled

"Only if you take me out on a date"

"Only one?"

"You need to win me over, González. If you keep this moves up, you'll do it in a snap of fingers tho"

You didn't need to say it twice.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

@gaviypedrisbride

[an-anonymous-reader]

Welcome to the Show!

Hey there! You can call me Ophelia! Not my real name, however it’s a name that I think is extremely pretty and don’t mind going by! This blog is for writing ‘x reader’ requests! I don’t normally write x reader, however I’m willing to learn and think that it could be something fun for me to do in my free time.

If there's a character you want to see and you don't see them in any of the lists, feel free to ask if it's at all possible for me to write that character, but also make sure that you have a character from the list just in case I am not able to!

My Rules for This:

- Please be Anonymous when sending in an ask! -

- Be aware that I have every right to refuse an ask! -

- I do not tolerate hate on any character, you will be blocked! -

- I am 100 percent willing to write poly characters! -

- If a character is underage canonically, smut fic requests will not be accepted! -

- Lists can and will be updated as situations and boundaries come up! -

- Like above, Characters can and Will change, just like Fandoms will be added! -

- I’m new to writing most characters from X-Men/Avengers, please be patient while I learn! -

- If I write something offensive or if I could have worded something better, please tell me nicely -

Fandoms/Characters I write for:

|| X-Men

- Remy LeBeau / Gambit

- Rogue

- Logan Howlett / Wolverine

- Jean Grey / The Phoenix

- Scott Summers / Cyclops

- Ororo Munroe / Storm

- Jubilation Lee / Jubilee

- Erik Lensherr / Magneto (I go with the Movie version for name typically, please add in your request if you prefer his other name(s) from the comics, as I’m not familiar with the comics yet!)

- Peter Maximoff / Quicksilver (reason as above)

|| Avengers

- Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier

- Steve Rogers / Captain America

- Tony Stark / Iron man

- Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

- Peter Parker / Spiderman

- Bruce Banner / Hulk

- Pietro Maximoff / Quicksilver (MCU version)

- Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch

- Thor

- Loki

|| Percy Jackson

- Percy Jackson

- Annabeth Chase

- Leo Valdez

- Hazel Levesque

- Frank Zhang

- Leo Valdez

- Jason Grace

- Piper McLean

- Nico DI Angelo (if male/masc reader)

- Will Solace

|| My Hero Academia

- Midoriya Izuku

- Bakugou Katsuki

- Todoroki Shoto

- Uraraka Ochako

- Shinso Hitoshi

- Yaoyorozu Momo

- Kaminari Denki

- Ashido Mina

- Kirishima Eijirou

- Jiro Kyoka

- Asui Tsuyu

- Tokoyami Fumikage

- Shoji Mezo

- Aizawa Shouta / Eraserhead

- Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic

- Kayama Nemuri / Midnight

- Todoroki Touya / Dabi

- Tomura Shigaraki

- Toga Himiko

- Togata Mirio

- Tamaki Amajiki

- Hado Nejire

- Sero Hanta

To Request a Story:

- Female, Male, Enby, or Fluid Reader?

- if you would like neo pronouns of any kind, please know that it’s not something i’m familiar with, however I’m willing to learn and am willing to adjust accordingly!

- Important information about reader character (hair color, any piercings, tattoos, height, personality, typical clothing, ect… Please know everything you want about your character, I am unable to communicate with you to clarify or ask anything! Anything left unanswered will be left for me to decide!)

- What Character?

- Romantic or Platonic?

- Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut

- if there is something specific you would like to see, add it here!

- Any Headcanons you want added?

- What is the situation you would like written? (i.e. what’s the prompt/rest of your request)

- Which Style of Reader Fic? (Examples below)

Style of Reader Fic - First Person

I shook my head slightly, watching Remy make a fool of himself trying to impress Rogue again. Logan was trying to encourage him, a glint of feral satisfaction as Morph and Jubilee talked with Storm and Jean. I never quite understood his fascination with the southern woman, though I could admit that she was pretty.

A startled laugh escaped my chest as I watched Bakugou realize that Midoriya had beaten him today, the race to the dorms now over. Kirishima was trying not to laugh, though Denki and Mina were giggling quietly. I rolled my eyes as anger eventually overtook the blond’s face. I had homework to do before meeting with Shinso to train with the capture weapon again.

I groaned softly, turning over and feeling my breath catch in my throat, Natasha was curled up on the other hotel bed just across the room, with an arm under her head. In her arms was the stuffed animal I had gifted her the day before.

There was a sense of dread filling my head as I tried to spot any of my questmates. Percy was missing, again, and worry filled my being as I spotted Nico disappear into the shadows, looking much paler than he had that morning. A startled scream escaped me as something crashed into my side, a glance and I was relieved to see that it was just Mrs. O’Leary.

Style of Reader Fic - Second Person

You were surprised to find that Jean had waited for you instead of heading off with the other girls. Training had been strenuous today, and your back was sore and your hair a tangled mess. A flush appeared when you noticed that she was holding a brush, and was giving you a quiet smile of reassurance.

You sighed as you followed after Tony. The two of you were once again sent out despite the very obvious hate and dislike the two of you held for each other. He was listening to AC/DC on headphones and ignoring your general existence, which was fine by you. By all means he could ignore you.

You were giggling hysterically as you followed after Toga, music running through your head as you tried to decide on what ‘radio station’ you wanted to listen to for the night. You were smiling as Toga glanced back at you, excitement in her eyes. Ahead of her, just barely so, Dabi was ignoring the both of you.

You couldn’t find Annabeth, which would normally be worrisome, however you also knew that she had probably holed herself up in the Athena cabin to study for the exam she would have to take to go to New Rome. You were proud of your girlfriend, just like you knew your boyfriend was. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Percy wouldn’t be joining Annabeth for the first year of collage, instead, he was staying at camp with you to help train the flood of younger campers that had made their way to camp.

[marvelgurl789]

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/55816885"><strong>The Final Exam</strong></a> (7328 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdOfHermes"><strong>BirdOfHermes</strong></a><br />Chapters: 2/2<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/X-Men%20-%20All%20Media%20Types">X-Men - All Media Types</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/X-Men%20&#39;97%20(Cartoon%202024)">X-Men &#39;97 (Cartoon 2024)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/X-Men%20(Comicverse)">X-Men (Comicverse)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/X-Men:%20The%20Animated%20Series%20(Cartoon%201992)">X-Men: The Animated Series (Cartoon 1992)</a><br />Rating: Explicit<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Gambit/Reader, Remy LeBeau/Reader, Remy LeBeau/You, Remy LeBeau/Original Female Character, Gambit/Original Female Character, Remy LeBeau/OFC, Gambit/Black Female Reader, Past Rogue/Gambit<br />Characters: Remy LeBeau, Reader<br />Additional Tags: Crushes, Secret Crush, Crush at First Sight, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, Banter, Mutant Reader, Mutant Powers, Anti-Mutant Sentiments (Marvel), Cooking Lessons, New Orleans, POV Second Person, X-Men References, X-Men Inspired, X-Men '97 (Cartoon 2024) Spoilers, Schmoop, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character, Food, Comfort Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Mutual Pining, Dorks in Love, Short & Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Friends to Lovers, Interracial Relationship, Recipes, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Dry Sex, Dry Humping, Semi-Public Sex, Clubbing, Missionary Position, Cowgirl Position, Marathon Sex, Foreplay, Dirty Talk, Slow Dancing, Multiple Orgasms, Charming Remy LeBeau<br />Summary: <p>You, an X-Man and mutant, are enrolled in chef school and have a final exam coming up, so you enlist the help of the raging Cajun himself, Remy LeBeau aka Gambit, to help you ace your final exam of making an unforgettable pot of gumbo for your class and instructor. You're also nursing one hell of a crush on the man and are trying to keep it on the down-low, but maybe this cooking lesson with Remy is getting hot for reasons that have nothing to do with food...</p><p>Gambit/Black Female Reader AU. Takes place loosely within the X-Men '97 continuity.</p>

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Howdy, friend! An idea for a request hit me while I was struggling in the hair care department. Black/POC reader trying to educate Eddie on how to take care of his curls ?

All I have to say is YES. Let me get my hands on those curls sir. Right NOW.

Requests have resumed. You can submit yours here!

Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, readers of color too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

Eddie Munson x Black Reader

_________________________

"What do you mean it takes the whole day?" Eddie questions, phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder. The fridge rattles just a little with the force of Eddie closing the door with his foot. On the counter, he tosses a few pieces of the lunch meat--chicken he thinks that Wayne got from the deli--onto his sandwich.

He'd gotten up early by his standards--around ten. He got up mostly because he knew if he didn't catch you early enough your day would become a gambit of whatever errands your mother needed to run and that you'd get tagged along.

"It takes a few hours, Eds. To do it properly."

"It's hair," he counters. "And I get yours is different than mine. But--hours? You mean I have to go the whole day without one of your kisses because it's wash day?"

You know his shock and frustration isn't directed at you or is malicious. But you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, pushing out a deep breathe. He doesn't get it, you tell yourself. And Eddie can't know fully what it's like. He understood on a basic level but the depths he would never truly feel in his bones like you do yours.

"Yikes, I'm sorry. What did I say?" Eddie knows, even through a receiver when he's crossed a line with you.

"It's not just hair Eddie."

His full name. He definitely fucked up. "I'm sorry, hon. Those--the words, I could've said it better."

"You just want to hang out with me?" you pose it so you can understand better what Eddie really wants to say. There's no use is senseless arguing. Speaking and censoring where two things that took great effort with Eddie. Sure, he could physically talk a mile a minute, but there was a gear where the words were just automatic. You know what Eddie really wants to say and what he actually is saying are paths that could easily diverge.

"I wanted to see you today." Eddie nearly whispers it, setting the knife down as he finishes the swipe of mustard on the bread.

You worked--a by product of you graduating in Eddie's second attempt at senior year and not being in a position to afford college. So you stayed in town, helping your mother around and working. It was something Eddie dreaded. But you were working at one of the daycare centers a town over and nearly every time you and Eddie talked he had a story about one of the kids and you always sounded happy.

It worried Eddied that he really wouldn't find the thing that would make him smile like the daycare does for you. But high school, a third time, is fucking miserable. The two of you wouldn't really crossed paths post your graduation save for the occasional run ins around own and the town gossip. But you helped him with a project and the two of you became fast friends. Then you graduated. When you were out getting medicine for your mother you ran into Eddie again and his crush on you hadn't fully disapiated. Fast forward through the summer, now into the depths of October's breeze before the November freeze and the relationship blossomed.

But the realities were still there--you worked and the only time Eddie got with you was on the weekends. That is if your mother didn't snag you first and now it seemed you hair too.

The words escape you without hesitation. "Why don't you come over? You can stand to learn a thing or two about taking care of curls."

"My hair is perfectly fine."

"They are dying of thirst. Just get over here. Twenty minutes or we get started without you."

"No," Eddie wails around the frantic bites of his sandwich. "I'll be there in fifteen."

You can only laugh, listening to the way Eddie's screams are muffled by whatever it is he's eating before the line goes completely dead. He is a strange man, but you adore him regardless.

Eddie's just grateful, by the time he gets into the van, the last quarter of his sandwich in his hand, that you always extend him grace and then a little more. He feels like kicking himself after his comment. Of course it wasn't just hair. It never would be just hair--he'd seen all the intricate styles you'd weaved into the strands, the cornbrows creating a maze of your scalp that he liked to trace sometimes while you two watched movies. It always smelled good, shined a little and when Eddie asked why you always laughed a little, and said just a little bit of elbow grease is all.

Your street is only one more right turn away and Eddie is more mindful to slow down more than he normally does. Your street is busy at this time of the day on a Saturday. Kids played pick up games of basketball in the narrow street or rode bikes up and down before dumping them in someone's yard to play games of football.

Just as he expected, he can spot a game of 4 v 4 one house down from you. So Eddie creeps until he can pull up into your driveway. But the caution is all thrown out as he runs up to the front door of the house. He knocks are rapid and he bounces on the balls of his toes.

"Edward Munson," you tease, hollering from behind the door. A moment later, the lock gives and opens to reveal a grin. "Thirteen minutes."

"I lost a few seconds to finishing my breakfast."

You wave him inside and he quickly toes off his Reeboks before wrapping you up in a hug. The work coat--a hand me down from Wayne you're sure--doesn't swallow Eddie, but it is warm as you step into his embrace. He kisses the side of your head, arms encasing your waist tightly.

"Is that mustard I smell?" you ask, when Eddie exhales.

He laughs. "That's what you're worried about. The mustard on my breathe."

"It's a valid question."

"Only valid cus you got the nose of a dog," your mother teases as she approaches arms wide to give Eddie a hug too. "Good to see you again, sugar."

"Hi, Ma," Eddie laughs wrapping her into a hug too.

You expect Eddie just to watch, maybe attempt to give you a fauhawk when your hair is shampooed. But instead, he asks if you're okay with him stepping in. You and your mom had built a ritual. When she had the time, she'd wash your hair for you, deep condition it, part, cornrow and oil your scalp. It reminded you deeply of your childhood as she worked her fingers over your scalp or as you sat on the floor on a pillow as she sat behind you on the couch. But Eddie slips out of the jacket, rolls up the sleeves on the flannel he'd thrown on and ask if your mother can teach him, if he can be the one to do it.

You expect to laugh as Eddie tosses popcorn at you while you're sitting. You expect that you'll be the one to bring up to ask if Eddie will let you do a modified version of your wash day on him. But it's Eddie who breaks the seal and asks to be taught.

"I know it's important," he states. "I want to learn."

"You don't have to make up for earlier," you return, the towel already draped over your shoulders.

"I-" Well, Eddie is trying to make up for earlier. But he also wants to see and feel what makes this more than hair. "I appreciate that. But I feel like I need to get it. As best as I can of course."

Your mother easily agrees, but you keep staring him down. Those his eyes are big and you can always read them, you wonder for a moment if there's something that Eddie manages to hide as you watch him. All you feel those is genuineness.

You nod and Eddie nods, a smile gracing his face. "Thanks."

"Oh, don't say that just yet," your mother laughs. "Welcome to Black Hair 101. Detangling is going to be a bitch."

Eddie takes the outstretched comb, the teeth are tight together and a long silver need falls into his palm. "I'm going to need a picture dictionary," he laughs.

"We gotchu. C'mon. That there is a rat tailed comb. Good for parting and taking braids down," your mother directs not wasting another second.

Eddie nods, carefully taking you by the shoulder to pull you back into him. You scoot on your butt until your back hits the couch. The instruction of his hand, a titling of your head, is nearly too soft but you know what he's silently asking for.

Eddie's fingers are tentative, worried you might even say whereas your mothers hand are sure. But you like the feeling of him standing just off to the side of you as your bend your torso so your head is over the sink and his hips gently knock into your shoulder. He apologizes each time. "Nah, you're good," you state into the basin of the kitchen sink, fingers clutching the ends of the towel closed around your shoulder.

"Sorry," he whispers, fingers catching a knotted strand.

"Nah, you're good," you return.

It is a volley and each time you take hold of the apologies and return them with a soft reassurance. Eddie is good. He is okay. He is fine. He is just learning. He is just shampoo.ing He is good. He is okay. He is fine. He is just learning.

"That is a wide tooth comb," your mother direct. "Start at the ends, get that untangled first then you can go higher up. LIke this." She takes hold of a section, holding the mid shift tight and then working the comb through your ends. Once the comb goes through easily, she grabs higher up onto your hair and works the knots out before combing from the root to the ends.

Her arm is steady and swift. She knows just how much to tug, she knows when a knot needs more time to unravel the cause. She knows just when to put just a little bit more rake to get the desired result.

Eddie is slower. You can almost imagine how he's holding his breath each time his rake with the comb catches. You block the apology before it can fine. "You're fine. It's okay. It doesn't actually hurt me."

Eddie hums. He believes you, but he also knows the horrors of a bad knot.

The plastic crinkles in his hands, but he gets the cap over all your hair and tilts your head back. "Okay?"

"Perfect," you return, knowing that soon the hose will be plugged in and your mother will be setting a timer so you sit with the conditioner under heat for a few minutes.

You can only sit and watch. But the moment your mother gets the timer set, she's crooking her fingers for Eddie to follow. And into the kitchen they disappear again. You imagine it's clean up. Getting the shampoo and conditioner back up into the bedroom, cleaning out the combs, finding the rubber bands and hair grease.

But you only catch the sight of them from your periphery. But you take it. What catches your attention though, however clipped it is in your vision, is Eddie now posed at the sink.

Only your mother. You know she's fast. By the time the machine cools and then shuts off, Eddie's returning to the living room, his own hair dripping and resting against a towel. "She got you too, huh?" you laugh.

"I blinked and my head was under the faucet," he laughs.

You mother motions for you to scoot, and you do after peeling the cap off your head. Eddie takes your spot. "Just a couple minutes for you, sweetheart. Nothing too long."

He barely gets the nod before his hair it tucked up and way and the heat billows around his skull. Your mother is swift as she rinses your hair out and then the dryer turns off by the time the two of you can return to the living room.

"Should've brought a snack," Eddie teases, watching from the floor as your mother parts your hair.

"Told you it was called wash day."

"You hungry?" he asks, one hand resting on your knee. HIs thumb brushes over the exposed skin--thanks to the rise of your shorts due to you sitting.

"Nah, I'm good."

"This whole time I just thought you rinse conditioner out right after you got it through your hair," Eddie snorts.

"Lawd, have mercy," you and you mother echo. The room fills with cackles, a sheepish grin taking over Eddie's face.

"No one told me otherwise!" he defends. And it's true--Wayne most likely wouldn't have known. But now Eddie knows. Like he knows how to take down the cornrows. He knows how to shampoo, and detangle. He knows what sort of products you need. He'll figure out which ones are best for him later. He understands how to do a braid, but is sure, that his fingers won't cooperate. He almost wants to ask to try but the way your mother tugs and tucks, he fears he'd interrupt too much.

"You look like you wanna say something," you state, fingers tracing up Eddie's clothed calf.

"No, just watching," he answers. It's a lie. You both know it. But not even the arch of your brow gets him to confess.

Just as your mother plucks the last rubber band from the box, you unscrew the top on the jar of grease and hold it up. Your mother takes the pad of her fingers to take a small swipe, warming it up on the back of her hand before swiping it on your scalp. She follows the lines down and down to the nape of your neck.

Eddie peers in at the blue substance. His nose places the scent--something he's always connected to you-- but he never really knew what it looked like. It's jelly like, but easily pliable with a few rubs. He takes a taste amount, just dipping his pinkie into the jar.

"Just don't eat it," you laugh, watching Eddie inspect it.

"I doubt it would taste great," he concedes. You wave him in close, reaching for a different jar. He can't make out what it is, but you rub the cream between your palms and smooth it over his strands. You are careful as you finger coil clumps. It smells sweet. He catches the smell when you reach around his shoulders to take the towel.

"All done?" he questions.

"All done," you answer, pulling his head back by his forehead and kissing the end of his nose. "You hungry?"

Eddie peers to the clock next to the TV. Ten to three. "Shit, now that you mention it, yeah. But I see what you mean by it takes a whole day."

"Absolutely. We've got leftovers. Is that okay?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Give you strength to get hair products later. That'll be fun."

"You mean it's going to take another four hours," Eddie laughs.

"We have to get it right!" you defend.

Eddie stretches up, rubbing at your forearms. "I like the sound of that."

[the-fiction-witch]

Mrs Watts

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT  COUPLE: BENNY X READER RATING SWEET + FLIRTY REQUESTED

songbyrd15 asked:

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests and if you aren’t feel free to completely ignore this, but I would like to request Benny Watts with a kind of farmer’s daughter aesthetic reader. Like, she wears jeans and overalls and is kind of a tomboy and also carries a knife. Kinda cowgirl esque? Thank you!

I smirked to myself as I often did fixing my facial hair in the mirror and making it sit just so. I put a comb through my hair and headed out into the main part of my hotel room. I put my socks on and squirted a little extra aftershave on as I knew it would be warm today. Having to jump a little to get my jeans on. Grabbing my belt from the bedpost slotting my knife in as usual. I grabbed the first shirt out of my bag and ended up with my grey button down so I did it up leaving the top as usual to expose my chains. I slipped my rings on and my shoes and hat taking my keys on the way out. I locked up and headed down the hideously patterned hallways down to the main hall where everyone had gathered for the tournament. With the mass of button-downs and greased hair, I went to the bar and grabbed myself a sprite and I spotted a familiar camera on the marble bar top.

"Morning towns"

"Morning Watts" he smiled back "you signed in?"

"Not yet. Wanted a drink first"

"Why worried?"

"Worried? Me? Not at all towns. Well have this wrapped up prize money in hand by this afternoon"

"Would you like an interesting bit of information about the competition?"

"I don't need it" I smirked

"Alright" he laughed having a little more drink

"Tell me anyway"

"I found something of interest this tournament"

"What? Are we actually playing on wooden boards this time?"

"No something even more interesting"

"Oh? Go on then don't keep me in suspense"

"I believe I found the future Mrs Watts"

"What?" I choked up laughing

"You haven't seen her yet? Have you?"

"Trust me. You'll know her when you see her. And I'll be the first to recommend myself. I shoot great wedding pictures" he smirked winking at me before heading off I assumed he was joking so I didn't think much more about it I signed in and wondered around keeping an eye on the few faces I knew could possibly be worth more than a thought

"Get lost perv!" I heard across the way it was undoubtedly a female voice so I looked over the hotel lobby and...

I saw her.

These little black boots sat happily at her ankles, with little wedge heels. These skin-tight blue jeans that exposed her every curve and crevice a fairly sizable ass had been squeezed in them to the extent I'd be a little worried if she bent over that the back seam would bust, the jeans up to her waist with a black belt around her hips a holster on her right hip holding something that I couldn't see but the belt had bullet loops that she has stored something in not sure what little gold tubes only two or three of them sat there. She had a blue button-down the sleeves rolled to just above her elbows a tattoo clearly on her arm of what I couldn't see from here, the shirt tucked into her jeans the top buttons undone to reveal a little cleavage. Little makeup on her face but a blood red lip and some eye liner her hair in this intricate fire maybe even six strand braid that went all the way down her back in a braid it went to the small of her back god know how long it was out of it. She was standing with a young boy named Quinn that I knew well he had a tendency to be an asshole to the few women who show up every now and again. Given where his hand was he clearly slapped her ass and honestly having seen her ass I'm not sure I blame him for trying... cause I think I would have in his situation.

And her response was a hard slap in the face loud enough people looked and his face turned bright red his eye-watering.

She looked pissed and walked off into another part of the hotel and I have to admit I watched her every step as she left.

"Fuck."

"Yeah. I did say" towens laughed as he has heard me

"She.... Shes-" I began lost for words a little

"What's this then, the masterful Benny Watts has a crush?"

"Shut up towns. She's... nice. Certainly different" I told him "her name?"

"Miss y/n y/l/n according to the sign-in sheets"

"She's playing?"

"Apparently so"

"Excuse me." I told him quickly finishing my drink and heading off in the direction she went and quickly I found her by the bar so I went over "Hey, can I buy you a drink?"

"Hum. Double scotch on the rocks hold the rocks" she smiled

The barman heard her so I nodded and plaid for her drink getting myself a cola,

"Cheers"

"No trouble. I've not seen you before"

"Not typically my scene but why not right?"

"You're not that interested in chess?"

"I never said that. I like the game just not the players" she says "a lot of bullshit to chess tournaments I'd rather just play"

"Yeah. Me too" I smiled "benny Watts" I offered my hand

"I know. Recognized you from a back issue of chess review" she smiled "y/n y/l/n" she says giving my hand a shake immediately I was shocked by how strong she was I have her hand a little kiss which made her crook her eyebrow at me a little taking her hand away and very obviously wiping it on her jeans where I kissed her

"Sorry about Quinn he can be a dick"

"I noticed," she says sipping her drink

"I promise not all chess boys are like that?"

"Aren't you?"

"There's a few good ones" I smirked "Texas?" I asked as I had been trying to figure her twang

"Ohh soo close. New Mexico"

"Damn. You guys a tricky" I laughed

"Maine?"

"Not bad. Not bad. New York."

"Thought I had it" she sighed "what's with the knife?"

"This is for protection"

"From? You got bears in New York or something?"

"From whatever" I shrug taking it from the holster and sitting it on the bar she happily took it giving it an inspect

"Nice. Needs sharpening" she says putting it back on the bar "I mean... I don't wanna get into a who's is bigger but" she smiled pulling from her holster her own knife and jr was in fact bigger than mine and sharper. And I have never felt such a confusing feeling of both being aroused and humiliated at the same time my dick didn't know what to do so I ended up with a strange semi. I took the knife and inspected it myself it was old but very well cared for and likely would do far more damage than mine.

"This is impressive"

"Thanks." She smiled taking it back

"But if you're carrying a knife around, what are the little cases?" I asked looking to the small gold and silver tubes she had beside her knife holster she smiled pushing out the loop twisting the golden tube causing it to open up revealing a bright red lipstick identical to what lay now on her lips she touched up her lipstick with it and returned it to her belt "how the hell have I not met you before"

"Luck of the world" she shrugs "see ya around Watts" she smiled giving my cheek a kiss and going off to her first game and towns snuck up and leant on the bar beside me giving me a look

"Shut up," I told him

"I'm not saying anything" he smirked

"Then your thinking loudly"

"I am. So, what do you think of her?"

"I don't know if I hate her or I'm in love with her."

"Isn't that what you say about yourself in the mirror every day?"

"Kinda" I shrug

"Also," he smirked offering me a Hankey from his pocket

"Ohh what am I drooling over her?" I joked

"No, you have a bright red kiss on your cheek"

"Ah. Thanks" I nodded happily taking it to clean my face off

"Well if you don't like her. I think I'll go and ask her to dinner" he smirked

"You keep your hands off my cute little cowgirl," I warn him and instantly noticed his smirking face as I realized the words that just exited my mouth

"Okay. Okay. Thought you didn't like her?"

"I never said I didn't like her" I answered "in fact, I rather think I do... quite like her" I smirked

[arlemangel7]

Gambit x blackfem!Mutantreader x rogue

First meet: Love in the club

When he met you he had three thought southern loud and sexy. You were a bartender that knew her way around the bar and how to entertain large crowds from the door all he could hear was loud woos and "come down on the left", "what can I getcha boys?", "alright alright two beers and six shots haha, guess we have a big night tonight huh 😁". He was alittle star struck almost to the point of drooling and had it not been for rogue nudging him out of his trance he'd still be standing at door mouth agap watching you twirl and dazzle the room as you shake cocktails all from behind the bar.

Rogue thought you were a raging fire but knew what she wanted soon as she seen you. She sauntered up to the bar through the sea of men sat right down in the center and said "hey sugar how's about me and you take a shot of your choice when you get a minute,hm?". You standing in her perfect line of sight say "well I hope you can shoot something sweeter than you accent darlin?" Without missing a beat she replies with "tell ya what, I'll take as many shots as it takes to get you to come home with me?" You, muddling limes into the bottom of the tin say "well, lucky for you I don't have any plans tonight and I get off in an hour. Soooooo if you can down ten shots of my choosing without throwing up or keeling over I'll take you...and your friend there up on your offer. And?" You place the muddler down grab a bottle and turns around to face her with the bottle still out of view "I'll tell you the name of your poison just cause im so nice." She place the bottle on the counter between yall "100 proof jack, so, do ya really wanna take me home?"

Five minutes later

Yall are down to the last shots of whiskey. Rogue takes her ninth shot and then you follow both your tummies are churning proof that both of you have CLEARLY over estimated the integrity of your stomachs, gambit is in the middle of yall already guessing the outcome if this battle is finished as intended "Listen ladies, I'd suggest we fold this round." both you and rogue say in unison "hush it Cajun!" Realizing yall both made a jinx burst into laughter before you say "you sure you wanna finish this?" She doesn't say anything accept "to our night together." She raises her shot glass up awaiting for you to do the same you chuckle raising your shot glass and doing your best to maintain eye contact through fuzzy vision "night ha *hiccup* try life" *clink* yall slam the glasses on counter and down them hearing the crowd roar in drunken cheers was the last thing you heard before blacking out.

The next morning.

You wake up to bright Sunrays shining through the window next to your bed..... only you don't have a window next your bed. It takes a few seconds to feel an arm squeeze around your tummy and a "mmm" in a slightly familiar voice. You softly and slowly turn to get a glimpse of your bed mates face when you realize you are naked, this makes you spring to a Sitting position trying desperately to remember what happened. "Well good morning cher, helluva night you had huh?" Surprised by the southern male voice coming from the fuzzy figure coming from the doorway. Squinting to get a better view of this person he says "your specks are on the night stand on ya right" you smile silently in thanks and retrieve your second eyes. After a few seconds your pink irises start to focus and you see the man from the bar "names remi but you may know me as 'cajun' I believed you called me last night" you nod "y/n". "Awh, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Your bedmate is.." "rogue?" You cut him off, you remember her saying that was her name on the way out of the bar.

"The very same, may I?" He gesters to the spot on the end of the bed trying to be careful with his movement not to frighten you you nod and he sits down before you ask "we didn't do..???" "No cher nothing like that, you two kissed alittle on the couch got naked because it was 'to hot in here' wandered through the house to this very bedroom and watched TV until you both passed out on top of the covers. From there all I did was place a blanket atop both of you, remove your glasses, shut the door and went to go sleep on the couch." Seeing the slight skepticism written on your face he says " listen i understand how it sounds but scouts honor im not made that way and There are security cameras in the living room and the hall if you wanna check for ya self."

For your own sanity you decide to take him up on his offer and Lou and behold he is telling the truth you both stumbled in the house threw your keys on the table near the door splayed on the couch where rogue atop of you where a make out session followed as yall are preoccupied with each other remi is seen in the back chuckles shaking his head taking his coat off, locking the door and going down the hall to the room where we ended up. Going back to the living room camera yall break from. The kiss turn on the TV say something in audible to each other and proceed to ditch clothes left right and center until nothing but skin remains yall cuddle on the couch for a sec before saying another sentence to rogue and her reply makes you rise from your position of your head on her belly to walk/stumble through the hall opening doors left and right until you found the bathroom following your departure rogue meets you in the hallway and guides you to the bed room as you both enter remi leaves shutting the door behind him and going to lay down on the couch.

"See a perfect gentlemen." He says in a matter of fact tone "alright I, ahhhh" you say feeling a sharp pang ring through your head "so you want Tylenol, ibuprofen or advil?, and what would you like for breakfast I got waffles eggs and sausage." (Insert medicine and breakfast of choice here) "That'd be great, thank you" he gives you one of his shirts to put on before breakfast is ready and points you to the hall closet with all the spare rag,towels, toothbrushes and etc are he tells you food will be ready in a second and to take all the time you need. Between that time rogue wakes up and is in the dining room where the food and remi are.

After this your relationship would start off and the rest would be history.

As always stories mine characters belong to who they belong to

Let me know your thoughts and ideas

Signing off for now sleep well yall💋💋

[mariamermaid]

The Queens Gambit

Ron Weasley x fem reader

Summary: Ron had been waiting for weeks for the upcoming chess tournament in London, but what if his title is endangered by a rookie…

Words: 4k

A/N: I think it´s pretty obvious where I got the inspo from, but in case you haven´t watched the show; I can highly recommend it! (That doesn´t mean you have to watch the show before reading though) I decided to add a few more characters from the HP fandom to make the story a little more entertaining. It´s basically like a little alternate universe story (but not really??)

  “Do you have a clock?”

You shook your head as you filled out the form with your name and other information. It was your first tournament and as much as you were excited on the inside, you kept a cool exterior. In reality, your heart was pounding against your chest. You had counted the days to this precious Saturday midmorning.

“If you´re opponent doesn´t have one, we´ll loan you one. Play starts in 20 minutes”, the boy in front of you nonchalantly explained. He was tall, but his slack figure was loosely positioned on the wooden chair. His teeth were a little crooked and he barely looked up to eye you any further. “What´s your rating?”

You glanced up from the paper in your hand, furrowing your brows. “My rating? I don´t have a rating.”

“Have you ever played in a tournament before?”

“No.” Your voice was steady, but a slight annoyance grew as the rules of the tournament seemed to have decided to play against you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Starring directly at the boy, merely a man, in front of you, you nodded. Then you handed the paper back to him. “I´m sure.”

“Then I put you in beginners”, he sighed and shrugged.

“I´m not a beginner”, you argued, but apparently, that didn´t change anything. “Doesn´t matter, if you´re an unrated player, you go in beginners and people with ratings under 1600.”

A pause fell from your lips, clearly Merlin didn´t want you playing against actual contenders.

“Is it against any rule for me to play in the Open?” The boy with dark short hair seemed taken back by your sudden and quick answers, and he stuttered when answering. Maybe it was your confidence that startled him, maybe it was the pure attendance of a female.

“Not… Not exactly.”

“Then put me in the open.”

“There are three guys with over 1800 and Weasley might show up, you have no chance.”

You didn´t answer, leaving him sitting behind the desk. You weren´t sure, if he meant to spare you with good will, or simply feared that an irascible woman could ruin the tournament.

Neville Longbottom, looked at the paper handed to him and read out the name. “Y/n Y/L/N.”

When entering the hall, that was used for all kinds of events when booked, very few decorations fell into your eye. A few flags with symbols of schools or teams and a few goblets. Pieces of sports equipment were pushed to the sides for space. The tables, all fairly small with enough space for the chessboards, were placed induvial throughout the room. Boys, mostly around your age and older were talking to each other, while other´s sat down to study their strategies. At the back was a partitioning, that’s where the big players gamed.

 Another boy, he seemed to be around your age with dark hair and round glasses joined you in eyeing the scene.

“Are the matches played random?”, you asked him quietly without looking away from the tables. You hoped for no unwanted attention, which was easier said than done. Especially giving the fact, that you were one out of two girls.

“No, they match it by ratings on their first round. After that winner play winners and losers play losers.” The boy answered. He seemed calm about his presence as well as his answer. He had clearly played before in tournaments. You nodded understanding, before walking to the first table assigned to you.

The second girl other than you, was sitting to your opposite.

You starred at the clock at the side of the chess board, you had never played with a clock. It annoyed you deeply that it made you look like a beginner. You were good and you were planning to win. The girl, black shoulder length hair and almond shaped eyes, noticed your look and offered you a polite smile.

“I´m Cho Chang. Each player has 90 minutes, after you move, you press the button closest to you. Then it´s your opponent’s turn.”

You didn´t want to talk much, you were there to play, but you appreciated her explanation. Then your eyes traveled through the room, just to find Cho´s again.

“Why do they put the girls together?”

“They´re not supposed to, but if you win, they´ll move you up. Have you ever played in a tournament?”

You shook your head slightly. “No.”

But she simply shrugged. “I´m sure you´ll do fine.”

“What about Ron Weasley, is he coming today?” Oh, the king of chess, at least currently.

You had read about him, his matches from his first years at Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore himself had praised him and the daily prophet had written multiple articles about him. You had studied his games, over and over. It was him, who you wanted to play.

“Yeah, he has to defend his title.”

 After 20 minutes, Neville heard light steps approaching. Only seconds after, he found you standing in front of him again. “What do I do with this?” You hold up the paper from your match. It took every bit of effort to hide your happiness, the first game had taken a lot of weight off your shoulders. After beating Cho, you were more determined than ever.

“Is your match already over?”

“Yes, I won”, you shrugged.

“That was fast, circle your name and drop in the basket”, he muttered and you did as said. Neville starred at the spot where you had previously stood; something tingled in his senses. Maybe you would actually get a chance to prove yourself to the higher players.

 You snuck through the rows of players still starring at their boards until reaching the dividers. Clearly, you were fast, faster than most of them, which gave you time to study the room further. But the interesting part was happening behind the dividers. You paused for second, before deciding to enter. Around the table was a group of people watching, within the crowd, the boy from before with the round glasses. It was your turn to join his side and watch the two seated players. By the red hair, you could easily make out Ronald Weasley himself. His green eyes were pierced on the board as he chewed on his lips. You had seen several pictures of him in the newspaper, but seeing him in person? It was a new excitement rushing through your veins.

“Is he a Grandmaster?”, you asked the dark-haired boy to your left. Curiosity had always been in your nature, it even more so, got you into trouble.

“He´s working on it, it takes time. You have to play a grandmaster to become one.”

“How much time?”

“Do you mind?”, Ron turned from the game, eyeing you with caginess. His green eyes pierced right through yours and you pressed your lips to a thin line, looking to the floor with guilt. Internally, you cursed at yourself, but the smallest part showed a weird reaction; Ron Weasley had taken notice of you. Not in the way you wanted, but maybe he´d remember you. Slowly, they all focused back on the game.

Weasley´s opponent, Blaise Zabini, had his arms crossed in front of the board. “Draw?”

Ron shook his head, he wasn´t cruel. However, the victory was too close and too easy for him. “No.”

Zabini sighed, watching as Ron´s Queen moved on the board to shatter his king. The art of wizard chess remained aggressively; how queens and rooks smashed and destroyed kings and pawns. It was fascinating to you.

Weasley clapped at his own win, just like the crowd, a smirk back on his lips. “Yes!”

The group around you echoed in further applause and you couldn´t help but feel a smile. The two of them shook hands, before Zabini took off in defeat. He tried his best not to show his disappointment and anger. Ron watched his tall figure leave through the crowd, until his eyes landed back on you. You felt a blush rushing into your cheeks. Did you said he´d remember you? He probably despised you already.

Avoiding his glance again, knowing you had already attracted unwanted attention, you swallowed. Ron on the other hand just realized the pretty girl, who had watched him…

 The minutes and hours took by and one after one player was defeated by you. Oh, how you loved winning. Some might decline it as a weakness, but it was the drive that kept you going.

“That´s check”, you explained after successfully beating another man. He adjusted his hair, feeling clearly uncomfortable. You on the other hand, had found your safe zone.

“I know what it is”, he then replaced his Queen, which rose from her throne, before making her way to the newly assigned field. But you had already figured out his move and even more so, your own win.

“Draw?” He asked, nervously tapping with his pencil. You had placed your head on top of your hands, watching him closely. You shook your head.

“I resign”, he admitted.

 “Dinner break, then three more rounds. Final round on Sunday 11a.m.”; Neville explained, while the players had gathered outside the hall to either chitchat or look at the charts of the past games. You eyed the chart; you had won four games already. Two games were listed above you, the next one was against Harry Potter. You furrowed your brows. “You said there were three people with ratings higher than 1800!”

Neville, the boy of drossy posture and crocked teeth, looked up from the papers. He had already guessed that you would complain. “Yes, that´s right.”

“I thought I´d be playing one of them.” Neville sighed, his love for chess, organization of tournaments and the clear instructed rules, were a little thwarted by you. “You don´t have a rating, consider yourself lucky.”

“How do I get a rating?”

“You play 30 games in the USCF tournaments and then wait four months.”

“But that’s too long! I want to play Weasley”, you exclaimed. The calculations in your head were fast and no matter how you turned it, time was your enemy. “If you win your next three games and if he does the same…”

“I will.”

 Annoyed, you stepped back into the hall. You were ambitious to win. It was all you had and the potential price money lurked you even more. At home, nothing but your mother waited for you. Money had always been a big concern, she wasn´t even able to afford for you to go to Hogwarts. Everything you knew about magic; she had taught you.  She worked two jobs to make enough money for food and rent and while she cleaned motel rooms, one of the guests that often stayed at the motel, taught you to play wizard chess; Mr. Lupin was an amazing teacher…

 At the table of your next tournament, you found the dark-haired boy with round glasses. He awaited you and smiled as you finally sat down. “I´m Harry, Harry Potter.”

Besides your prior encounter, you had seen him talking to Ron Weasley and a small wave of exhilaration rose inside you. He and Weasley seemed close friends. “Y/n, Y/L/N.”

The game started with innocent moves from pawns. In between, Harry glanced up to you, checking. But you were sure of what you were doing. Minutes passed into the game and Harry started realizing that you were better than him, he didn´t show it yet, but he was well aware. Nevertheless, he was enjoying an exquisite game of chess.

You took his queen nonchalantly, which fell off the board in debris, and nervously licking his lips, he wrote down new notes on his notepad, before making his move. Your turn again, the rook.

Harry folded his hands, starring at the game. He pondered how to get out. After more minutes passing, a few people even started to watch you. They stood in the background, far enough to not make it conspicuous, but close enough for you to notice.

You moved your king and Harry sighed. “Merlin, Y/n, you´re humiliating my rook.”

“You won´t have to suffer much longer.”

Yes, you had it all played out in your head. Your win was safe and secure.

A smile was on your lips. Two further moves, and it was done.

He stretched out his hand in defeat and you took it. “Good game, you´re very talented.”

You shrugged as if it didn´t matter, but it did. To you it did. “You really are something.”

Saturday came to an end; you had won every single game. With your head tilted high, you stepped out the building. Fresh air flowed through your lunges and you took a deep breath. Suddenly voices echoed from your right; a few steps away Harry was talking to Ron Weasley. They chuckled in ease as they continued to make conversation. Ron´s back was turned into your direction, but Harry quickly noticed you.

“Hey Y/N! You played well today; do you want to grab a butterbeer with us?”

A bitter taste spread on your mouth; you had never even tried butterbeer. But all your savings had gone into the fee of the tournament and you already expected a long lecture when coming home. You shook your head with a polite smile on your lips. “Sorry, I have to get home.”

The two boys watched as you left, silence between them.

“She´s good, better than all the other girl´s I´ve seen”, Harry added and his friend rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Harry, just because she beat you, doesn´t mean she´s some kind of unknown genius. She doesn’t even have a rating.”

Harry shrugged innocently. “Whatever you say, but be careful, maybe she´ll even beat you.”

Ron echoed in laughter as he playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “As if!”

 Sunday came, Ronald Weasley was late.

“Mom, have you seen my shoes?”

“Ronald, if you just once tidied up you might find them at the right place!”

Ron wasn´t nervous, but as so often, he was running late. With the annual tournament of wizard chess, he was ready to defend his title as current state champion.

Finally, the shoes had been next to the dishwasher (probably Fred´s and George´s play), he threw over his jacket and made his way to the fire place. “Mom, I´m leaving.”

Molly Weasley, who always knew where every single one of her children was, came hurrying down the stairs. With swift motions she brushed away dirt from Ron´s jacket and then started fidgeting around with his red hair. “Mom!”, Ron instructed his mother to stop and hurried towards the fireplace. He took the floo powder and rolled his eyes as Molly started wiping away a tear.

“There goes my champion!”

 You sat at the table, the same table where Ron had previously won against Zabini, waiting and growing impatiently. People around you waited as well. You couldn´t help but feel a deeper reluctance towards the conceited champion. Finally, you flinched as the door opened.

“Sorry, took a butterbeer on the go”, Ron added and held his cup high to show his evidence. You wanted to let out a sigh and roll your eyes, but you resisted to do so.

He took another sip before stretching out his hand.

“Ron Weasley, what´s your name?” Quickly, you shook his hand. Ron knew your name, Harry had told him, but he asked nevertheless. It was a rude tactic to make you feel smaller against him. You on the other hand wanted to begin, not waste more time. “Y/N, Y/L/N.”

He nodded acknowledging and the game started.

Five minutes into the game, he yawned.

It drove you insane. Did he do it on purpose? To make you lose focus? Or was he as underwhelmingly annoying?

He played confidential, not even thinking he could lose. It didn´t even take seconds for him to plant his moves. It intimated you and no matter how hard you tried not to show, the second yawn as you moved the pawn, did bring you to a slight stumble. Neville as well as Harry stood in the audience watching.

You felt sweat forming on your neck and cleavage, and strain pushed against your temples.

“I´ll be right back.” You jumped off your seat and hurried into the bathroom, leaving behind their confused faces.

Cold water ran down your hands and you placed the refreshing cool on your cheeks and neck.

Your eyes were pinned in the mirror, starring angrily at yourself. Running away from the game felt like an embarrassment enough, you weren´t ready to lose.

“Come on, you can beat him.”

Slowly, your stare wandered towards the ceiling. The chess board appeared out of your imagination and the figures stood tall, just like you had left them behind. Then, they started moving and each time you found yourself in an inescapable path, they pulled back into their initial position. Until…

 As you sat down, you were steadier as before. It surprised Ron a little and he watched as you moved your knight to take out one of his pawns. His rook then took your knight and you followed by replacing your pawn. On and on. The game continued. You were dangerously calm and as you placed the bishop down, you watched his face closely.

Ever so slightly, Ron shook his head and the glint in his eyes vanished. Harry in the crowd had the smallest hint of a smile.

“For Merlin´s sake”, Ron muttered and his hand pushed back his ginger hair.

“I think that´s it.” Your tranquil voice didn´t help him at all, but it gave you the confirmation you had hoped for.

“No, I can get out of this.”

“I don´t think so.” Then you tilted your head to side, completely deserted. “Maybe, if you had gotten here on time.”

Ron´s green eyes pierced into yours, then back on the board. Oh, time could be a cruel opponent and right now, he was losing. He took another move, not wanting to admit it yet, but you sighed sounding bored and exhausted.

“It doesn´t work, I don´t have to use the Queen.”

It didn´t matter to him. This was now more and ever about his ego. “I´ll just cover it with the bishop and-“

“Move.” His voice was low and unlike his usual character, deadly serious. Harry had never seen his friend in such a situation and even though he found it alarming, what a terrible loser Ron was, he was happy for you. You deserved it.

You did as said, covering your queen, while his rook took one of your pawns. It didn´t help, all it was, was a desperate cry. Your rook moved right next to his King, which he placed further away, but then your queen came along.

“Do you see it now? Or should we finish this on the board?”

In disbelief, he shook his head once again. But this time, his eyes found yours in an amazing gaze. “For Merlin´s sake.”

The King was destroyed by the Queen. You had won.

The people around you echoed with applause and Ron clapped as well, gentle smiling.

It was useless denying it further, you had beaten him fair and square. Harry had been right, you were good and better than Ron.

He lifted himself off his seat and shook hands with you, a reassuring smile on his lips.

For the first time on this day, you could smile as well. All the worries and the lecture that lasted till late in the evening, had been worth it.

You defeated the state champion and you won the prize money.

 “Y/n?”

You had planned to go home, your mother would be enthusiastic about the money, but Ron´s voice held you back. You were outside in the hall, hand already on the railing to the staircase leading outside.

“Do you want to grab a butterbeer with me now?” He sensed your hesitation and quickly spoke up again. “Don´t worry, I´ll pay. I guess I owe it to you”, Ron shrugged and pushed his hands nervously deeper into the pockets of his brown pants. He looked different than when seated behind the chess board, taller but less comfortable as well.

“I´m not sure…”

“Come on, you can´t leave me hanging like this after taking my title.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips and Ron noticed how well it suited your face. While playing chess and debating over strategies, there wasn´t much time to give away polite smiles or studying your opponent’s traits.

You couldn´t help, but feel how the reluctance towards Ron disappeared. He sighed relieved as you nodded agreeing.

The bar was only a few streets away, a side alley and the entrance to the magical ambience was hidden. The door opened as the front side to a large dumpster and lead a few steps down into the pub. It was cozy and due to the early time on a Sunday afternoon, still fairly empty. The bartender nodded towards Ron, they seemed to know each other.

“Two butterbeers, Dean.”

Together you sat down in niche to the side, a few plants hung from the ceiling and blankets and pillows laid on the armchairs in between. Chill jazz music played in the background and a house elf washed up used glasses. You imagined how the room was filled with people in the evenings.

“So, you never played in a tournament before and yet you beat the state champion?”

Ron was curious, which was understandable and you blushed at his question.

“A friend of my mom taught me how to play chess.”

“Really? He must know a lot about it, I imagine.”

“Yeah, and he gave me many books about openings and strategies.”

“I never saw you playing in the school tournaments, when did you start?”

You avoided his glance, starring down at the butterbeer Dean just brought to your table. The yellowish, sweet smelling liquid with soft foam on top.

“I don´t play for a school team”, you admitted quietly. The topic was hard to avoid, but you didn´t have many friends anyways to talk to.

“Well, I think you should maybe start then. They often travel together to other tournaments and-“

“I´m actually not going to a public school, I´m home taught.” You voice was louder now, but still shaking enough for Ron to realize your indisposition. He maybe was a genius on the board, but construing social interactions? Not his strength. Awkwardly, he scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh.”

 An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you and you decided to take your first sip to take off your mind. He watched carefully, how your face enlightened with joy. “It´s really good!”

Ron kept his assumption, that it was your first butterbeer, to himself and smiled nodding.

“Dean knows how to make one of the bests around here”, he paused before continuing.

“I admire you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everything I know about wizard chess, I learned in school from my teammates. Actually, everything I know, I was taught in Hogwarts. But now you come along and beat me, you´re brilliant Y/N.”

“I always liked chess, it´s a whole world on a simple board. I´m not as good in other things, trust me.” You admitted, but his compliment spread warmth around your heart.

“If you want, I could teach you a few things about magic.”

Maybe Ron Weasley wasn´t the best teacher, but he truly wanted to see you again. Something about you was so charismatic and mesmerizing, he couldn´t help himself. To his luck, excitement was shown in your face. “That sounds amazing!”

When you had finished your beers and left the pub, Ron faced you again. The two of you had talked for over an hour and he was beginning to like you more with each minute.

The thought of Ron teaching you more about magic, made you enthusiastic. Maybe it was also the fact, that seeing him again, brought a tickle in your stomach.

“Well, I see you next week, Queen.”

You chuckled at his new nickname for you, it was a pleasant flattery.

“We will see how good your gambit is when it comes to dueling.”

[love-dreams]

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

content: based off of the netflix show, the queen’s gambit, with different character names; drug abuse and overdose; lots of chess terms

wc: 3454

note: I FREAKING LOVE THIS NETFLIX SHOWWW!! this is a character study i’m trying to do to make my female y/ns less.. idk meek? wimpy? it’s such a writing pet peeve of mine and i absolutely loved beth harmon’s character so here it is :))

the queen’s gambit masterlist: 1 2

It was quiet in the orphanage basement. With the exception of the dull thumping of childrens’ feet on the basement’s ceiling. Pensive, and tense, the air felt pregnant with strain. 

Your eyes flitted back and forth, from black to white and then back again. They went over the ridges of the standing pieces, and down the curves until it met the checkered board. A criss-crossing maze full of infinite possibilities for strategy. 

Finally, your delicate, little fingers wrapped around the stem of your rook, pushing it so it slid all the way across the board. 

“Check,” came your raspy voice. 

The janitor’s bald forehead creased into more folds, and he raised up a finger to push up the frame of his glasses. “Not anymore.” His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against concrete.

The young girl’s brows furrowed, “Wait, how can you do that? You never taught me-”

The buff man stood up suddenly, interrupting her rhetoric. “That’ll be for next time. Clean up the board now and get to class.” 

“Wait-” you stuttered, feeling confused and cheated, but Mr. Lee's back was already turned on you, already moving in between the aisles of paint. You sighed, letting her gaze brush over the stationery pieces on the chess board once more, before sweeping all of them off into a velvet bag. 

The school bell rang shrilly.

Soonyoung liked to win. Even at the young age of five, he liked crushing his opponents with a gummy smile on his face and curved crescent eyes. 

They called him lots of names: the best chess player in the country since Yoon Jeonghan, the chess champion, etc. 

But he figured he liked the title “Innocent Tiger of the Chessboard.” Soonyoung thought it made him sound powerful and glorious. He used the name “Hoshi” a lot after the Times magazine coined him that way.

“You’re all a bunch of-”

A girl, whom you did not know, was getting dragged from the cafeteria. A teacher yanked her forward by her long, curly afro harshly. One hand held the girl’s hair, and the other hand, you barely noticed, was holding a yellow-tinted soap bar. 

You walked into the cafeteria, naturally standing at the back of a long line of orphaned girls. She moved forward, hesitantly, taking the spot in line from the previous girl. You looked up at the male vendor with large, unblinking eyes, expectantly. His eyes held a glint of remembrance, and slid a small, white paper cup toward you. 

Your fingers reached into the small cup and grabbed the object inside. Small, oval shaped pills rested at the bottom of the paper cup. 

“Ooh, those ones are best saved for the night. Don’t take ‘em all at once, either. Save ‘em.” You turned around. It was the black girl from before. “My name’s Ruth, by the way. You’re new here, right?” Ruth’s voice was sultry and teasing; her brown, chocolate eyes hid a twinkle of mischief that you could already tell made her a troublemaker. She had her own matching green pill in between her large hands. “You’ll see what I mean.”

Then, she walked right back into the cafeteria with the other girls. 

The room where you slept was also occupied by the dozens of other girls in the orphanage. It had large windows with thin curtains, and stone ceilings and floors. The beds were identical with small dressers on the side of them. 

Because the curtains were thin, they didn’t do much to keep the silver beams of moonlight from filtering into the room and onto the beds. 

Your eyes were wide open, staring at the green pill twirling in between your fingers. You debated yourself internally for a few moments, before swallowing it in one gulp. Your eyes felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was as light as feather, swirling and swirling with thoughts. You finally cemented on one event in her day, zeroing in and latching onto it with no mercy.

The chess game with the orphanage janitor. 

As the event seeped into the cracks of your skull, your eyelids slowly opened until you were faced with the dark, blank ceiling above you. 

A spot appeared. Then another right beside it.

Then two more around those, and then more and more and more. They were alternating spots, some dark and some light.

You gasped, pushing herself to a seated position.

It was a chessboard. 

The pieces slowly materialized on the ceiling. You could make out the distinct shapes of the king, the rook, and the many other pieces that she didn’t know the names of. You knew of the pawn, pieces with a rounded sphere as its head. Mr. Lee had taught you about them the first day she played chess with him. 

“The opening,” he had called it. “Openings are the first moves of the game. Learn some.”

The pieces flickered on the board, teleporting from place to place, mimicking a real chess game. 

You almost overslept for breakfast the next morning.

The teacher paused for a moment in her lecture, her hand moving automatically toward the chalk erasure. Her fingers brushed metal and her eyes saw an absent seat.

“Check.”

A piece moved. 

You let out a breath.

“Checkmate.” 

Mr. Lee leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his bloated stomach. He said nothing, instead pulling out a rectangular box from his back pocket. 

“I know all the pieces now.” You stood up, your arms bracing yourself against the table. “And how they move.”

Again, he refused to answer. His muscled, long fingers nimbly hooked under the latch on the cigarette box. You watched as Mr. Lee lit the cigarette and turned away. 

Your internal question remained unanswered.

“Tomorrow,” he finally replied. “Tomorrow, I’ll properly teach you how to play.” 

Your breath hitched in excitement, “Really? You’ll teach me-”

“You should learn the Sicilian Defense,” came his gruff voice. His back remained turned on her. You stood as well, seriousness filling the gap between the two of you. 

Mr. Lee finally turned. 

“To tell you the truth of it, child…” His lips curved upward. “You’re astounding.”

It was the national championship. Reporters and news outlets were crawling around everywhere, shoving their microphones into every chess player’s face. Soonyoung smirked in amusement, letting his gaze drop back down onto the chessboard in front of him.

“Oh, you moved already?”

Chan huffed, “It’s been two minutes, you’re gonna run out of time at this point.”

Soonyoung chuckled, sliding a piece away from him. His aura remained confident and unsettled by Chan’s warning. “I’d be more worried about yourself, brother.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed as he analyzed the board. At first glance, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. All of his pieces were set in motion and Soonyoung- 

His eyes snapped open. Soonyoung was already one step ahead of him. Except this step was a mile in front and already at the finish line.

“H-how did you-” he stuttered in disbelief.

Soonyoung interrupted Chan, “Next move is Anderssen’s mate.” His eyes held a small twinkle of triumph, but anyone who had played Soonyoung before knew that he was never truly surprised about the outcomes of games he played. 

Chan let his head hang low in defeat. “Alright, then.” His hand reached up to knock over the long column of his King. “You win.”

A crooked grin spread across the face of the young champion. 

“Don’t worry!” He smirked. “You’ll always have next time.”

You had been falling behind in math class. You hardly ever paid attention when you were in class, and when you were out, math was hardly even at the back of your mind. Mr. Lee had gifted you a book to read called Modern Chess Openings. Soon enough, you had mastered not only all of the openings in the book, but also the art of hiding a book under your desk and reading.

One day, Mr. Lee had a visitor in the basement. Another man, leaner and taller than the janitor. He was dressed formally and wore a hat. 

“Beth,” Mr. Lee greeted her. “This is Mr. Choi. He’s a representative of the chess club I play at.”

You stared at the stranger, unmoving and unresponsive.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he said, smiling. Mr. Choi was a friendly looking man, youthful too. “Would you care for a game of chess?” He took the chair next to Mr. Lee, long fingers already moving the pieces to their correct positions. His poise was confident and his eyes were shrewd. A completely different player from Mr. Lee was in front of you. 

You won in three moves after the opening. Quick and precise, with no room for error. Mr. Lee looked on from the side of the table. His face showed neither surprise nor pride, but his eyebrows stayed furrowed. 

“Well,” Mr. Choi raised his gaze from the board, turning his head toward the elder janitor. “She’s exactly how you described, Jihoon. I’m certainly impressed.” You waited patiently, unaware of the relationship between the two men. He turned his attention to the young girl in front of him. “(Y/N), how old are you?”

You answered mechanically, without any hesitation. You remained unfazed, an almost bored tone in your voice. “Nine years old, sir.” 

Mr. Choi leaned back in his chair. “Nine years old, huh,” he echoed in disbelief. “That’s amazing. Say,” Mr. Choi reached down beside him. “(Y/N), would you be interested in competing against some other people?” He straightened himself, this time holding something in his hands. “I run a chess club at a high school near here, and I’d love to have you come play with us.” 

You stared at him, shock and curiosity filling your gaping mouth. “Me?”

Mr. Choi chuckled, finally bringing up the object in his hands for her to see. “You can think about it for awhile, I’ll also be in contact with your headmistress. In the meantime, here’s a prize for your win. Nine year old girls like dolls, right?” 

Your mouth refused to answer. You looked helplessly at Mr. Lee, but his gaze was fixated on the ending board pieces. 

“Well then,” Mr. Choi breathed. “I’ll be off.” 

You watched as he grabbed his leather briefcase and his hat, then strode straight in between the shelves and up the wooden, creaky stairs. Then, you turned your attention to the doll in front of you.

You hesitantly grabbed the plastic body, running your thumbs over the cheap polyester clothes. 

Then, you promptly threw it in the trash.

The next time you saw Mr. Choi was not in the cold basement, but instead, in the headmaster’s office. The headmaster was a bitter woman with strict ideals that were brittle and unbending. You had only met her once, and you had hoped that they would never come so close again.

“Well, Miss (Y/N). Is what Mr. Choi telling me true?” Her wintry voice chilled you down to the bone, leaving your head numb and you palms overheating. Without waiting for a response, Headmaster Kim turned her attention back to Mr. Choi. “Mr. Choi, we appreciate the offer and would love for the orphanage’s many talented students to compete with others, but going to a school by herself? I worry for the child.” 

Mr. Choi nods, compromising with a soft tone, “Of course, I will be with her at all times.”

“Hm,” the headmaster pondered. “I’d rather her go with another girl actually.”

He relented immediately. “Absolutely.”

The Headmaster stood up from her seat. “Well then, it’s decided. Young (Y/N) will be accompanied by a fellow student from the orphanage.”

Mr. Choi complied calmly, leaving without another comment. Quietly and rapidly just like the first time you had met him. Your nerves spread out like spindly branches of a tree, bumping against each other until it filled the entire room.

“(Y/N)?” 

It was only until the Headmaster called your name that you realized your gaze had dropped to the floor. 

“You’ve been playing chess in the basement, I hear.” There was a pause, and you quickly recognized that the woman expected a response. You dipped her head slightly into a nod of acknowledgement. “I must say, playing chess in the basement is highly irregular.” Your heart rate jerked upward. Would the Headmaster forbid you from playing chess? A sense of dread pricked her heart. “Ask Mr. Jun for a chess board from the game closet, I’m sure we have one or two. You can play out in the open from now on.” 

A wave of relief crashed over you. “Really?”

The Headmaster dismissed you, “It’s lunch time now. Hurry back to the cafeteria, Miss (Y/N).” 

You left without any refusal, your steps hurried and rushed as your shoes clicked against the cement floors.

The cafeteria had its usual vibrations of friendly chatter, and the line to the pill vendor was just as long as the day she arrived. Inching closer and closer to the vendor, you buzzed with anticipation for your daily collection of green pills.

The man slid the snow paper cup toward you, and habitually, you looked inside for the strange green pill among the scarlet ones. 

It wasn’t there.

“Where’s the green pill?” you asked, bewildered. 

The vendor sighed, clearly annoyed and frustrated with you. His voice was thin and gruff, an unattractive timbre. “New state laws, kid. No more tranquilizers. Now move on, more people waitin’ behind you.” 

You furrowed your brow, but moved aside regardless. 

That night, you counted the leftover tranquilizers you had saved up. There were only five left. You’d have to ration them and not take them frivolously. 

The ceiling remained a blank canvas without its usual checkered illusion projected.  

“Chess is getting kind of boring,” Soonyoung noted one day. He was 18 at the time.

Chan glared at him from his peripheral vision. “God damn it, Kwon. Maybe you need to get a life or something.”

He laughed, sweeping the plastic chess pieces off the wooden board. “Are you suggesting a get laid, or that I go on a date? Because both are well within reach.”

Chan grinned cruelly, “Like hell they are. The only thing you’ll ever love more than yourself is chess. As if a girl could even compare.”

Soonyoung rubbed at his nape sheepishly. “Maybe if she was a girl who played chess..”

“Well then you’d just see her as another bad player who couldn’t beat you.”

“Jesus, Chan. Way to make a guy feel motivated,” he sighed. “I guess I’ll just have a steamy date with my chess books instead.”

Chan huffed in annoyance and turned his attention away from the other male.

The drugs didn’t last you until the chess match and you began to feel the effects of it. Or rather, the effects of not having them. You mind would wander during class and you felt sluggish and tired. Ruth noticed. 

“What’s going on, cracker? You don’t look so slick.” 

It was true. Your hair was unkempt, your eyes were sunken and bruised from insomnia, and you no longer had the energy to hold up a conversation. Ruth sighed and moved closer so that your elbows were brushed up against each other. “It’s because of those green pills, ain’t it?” When you didn’t respond, Ruth huffed. “Alright then, I was gonna help you out with that by sharin’ some of mine, but if you’re gonna be so rude, then I guess I won’t!”

Your head snapped up. “You still have some?” you whispered. 

Ruth smirked, her large lips parting to reveal bright white teeth. “Sure I do! Started savin’ these babies up a long time before you did.”

“Can I have some?” you hesitantly asked, your voice was low and soft. It was only a day before the chess game with the high school team and you were slowly going psychotic without the tranquilizers’ help. 

Ruth denied you a verbal cue and instead, moved closer to slip two pills into your dress’s pocket. 

It was your first time leaving the orphanage ever since you entered through the black, metal gates. Thus, when you, accompanied by Jamie Park, ambled through the high school halls, along with Mr. Choi, you were noticeably a little startled. It was noisy, crowded and ever so chaotic. Kids of all sizes were ravaging the school, lockers were haphazardly open and some closed, there was no sense of the eerie order at the Methuen Home orphanage. 

You found that you didn’t mind the disarray much after all. 

Mr. Choi led the duo into an empty classroom filled with desks that had been arranged into a circle. Only a few kids lingered in the room. You could count the amount of girls with your fingers. He directed you and Jamie toward the edge of the room. 

The pair watched as student after student filed into the room in a steady stream of people, like tap water flowing out until only the last few drops fell. 

Mr. Choi stood in the middle of the classroom and spread his arms dramatically. “Welcome, everyone! Today we have a very special guest,” he announced. Mr. Choi motioned toward you. Feeling compelled, you shyly stood and walked forward. “This is Miss (Y/N). You all will be playing a simultaneous against her!” He paused. “Please take your places.”

The students shuffled amongst themselves, the sound of feet thundering crescendo-ed until all of the seats were filled. You looked around at all of the male students seated in front of chess boards, a somber expression pasted on each of their faces. Some even had smirks. You looked up at Mr. Choi, who had a smile on his face. 

“Mr. Choi?” you questioned. 

He nodded, ushering toward the first board from clockwise motion. 

You stepped forward in front of the first board and looked down at the colored pieces in front of her. You took a deep breath, then moved the first piece. 

It took only eighty minutes to win every single board, even the high school’s best chess player.

When you returned to Methuen, you first celebrated with Mr. Lee. The janitor had prepared a small treat for you when you returned. To the normal eye, Mr. Lee looked neutral and maybe even a little irritated, but to you, the pride in his eyes were as clear as the squares on the chessboard.

“Honestly, I was most surprised about how bad they are. I mean, they made the most basic mistakes.” You paused to swallow a lump of dark chocolate. “Doubled pawns, queen trades, all of that. It was honestly kinda embarrassing to play against them.”

Mr. Lee didn’t interject your rant, watching as brown spread across your lips to your cheeks. He handed you a napkin and stayed quiet. 

“Well,” you stood up, straightening our your skirt. “I’m off now.” The janitor nodded, eyes fixated on the chess pieces on the board as if they were moving by themselves. You looked down at the board and a question naturally floated to the top of her mind. “When’re you going to teach me end game, Mr. Lee?”

Mr. Lee looked up at the nine year old. 

“Soon.” 

Soonyoung was only 10 when he won his state championship. He won the country’s championship when he was 14. 

He lost it when he was 23. 

You ran out of the green pills in a day after the chess tournament. Once again, your body was thrown into withdrawal. It felt like a constant yearning for water. Every single day your gaze would linger on the glass jugs of pills behind the windowed divider. It became tantalizing. Each night you would salivate at the thought of breaking in and shoveling those pills into your mouth. It was a heavenly dream that nudged you closer and closer to reality.

It was during class that you found herself passing the open door of the cafeteria. The cafeteria room was a desert and the oasis was straight in front of your very own eyes. Self-control was a feeble wall that disintegrated under the wave of pent up yearning. 

Your fingers trembled as you undid the lock, yanking it off and sliding over the divider. It was too easy. 

Your heart pounded against the confines of her chest. The adrenaline rushed through your veins and your vision quickly became dizzy. 

The second your fingers reached the pills, you were gone.

All those nights of dreams finally came true. You couldn’t even stop her hands from shoveling those pills into your mouth. 

You couldn’t even stop as your fingers twitched on the ground, your body pressed against the cold tile floor.

“Rumor has it you were drunk while playing Minghao.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I was sober anyway.”

next part: here

tag list: @haotheheckk​ @svtantalizing​

[starl1ght-child]

Could you please do a drifter x female hunter where the reader starts to lose sleep, take more missions, etc because she knows when she goes to sleep, she sees all of her friends she couldn't save? Please and thank you! (Also, love your writing! ❤🙏)

asdkjfjals thank you!! And thank you for this request, I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to.  This is honestly my favorite troupe e v e r!  The fear, the tension, the aftercare… oof.

perma tag list: @mail-me-a-snail @shins-wife @speed-boop @threevie @squadnos @daggerthegamer @reaped-winnower

The Drifter x F!Hunter Reader - She Doesn’t Sleep

You were cold.  You were tense.  You were tired, of all things.  You’d lost so much that you had to harden yourself and build up walls to prevent yourself from ever letting anyone close again.  They haunted you.  They plagued you.  Everyone you ever cared about was gone, you had accepted that since it was the only way to move on with your life, but the memories of them bled into your sleep and turned peaceful, empty rest into heart wrenching nightmares.

You couldn’t save any of them and they were making you pay for it from beyond the grave.  You thought you had moved on after Cayde died.  For a while, the nightmares subsided.  Then you saw all of them as phantoms on the Moon.  The sleepless nights and nightmares returned.

You filled the restless days with work.  Even though the routines were tired, they were familiar.  It was easier to tell who was good and who was bad, black and white, right and wrong.  You did anything and everything to keep yourself busy, because when you were busy, you were focused.  When you were focused, you didn’t feel the exhaustion that was firmly set into your muscles and bones.  You took strike missions from Zavala, you played round after round of Crucible, you fought in match after match of Gambit, you even visited the Black Armory forges to help pass the time.

The Drifter must have noticed your unhealthy habits.  Or at least he picked up on the distance you had put between the two of you.  You two had been friends.  You used to make small talk.  But after Cayde and then after seeing the phantoms of all of your lost friends, you’d stopped talking to him and closed off.

The next time you visited him, it was late.  You were coming to pick up bounties.

“You got a minute, sister?”  The Drifter asked.  As much as you wanted  to just ask for bounties, you nodded.  No words.  He pulled you aside and down the hall into a small alcove, out of sight and earshot of anyone else in the Annex.  He crossed his arms over your chest.  “What’s goin’ on with you?”

You shrugged your shoulders.  “Nothing,” you muttered.  You shifted your weight uncomfortably beneath his gaze.  

“Bullshit.  Somethin’s wrong with you, ol’ Drifter can tell.”

You involuntarily flinched at the tone of his voice and immediately got defensive.  “I don’t know what you want me to say!” You snapped.  “Everything’s fine!  Nothing’s going on with me!”

“Then why’ve you been so quiet?  Listen, to me—”  

He reached out to touch you.  Before his hand could even land on your arm, you grabbed his wrist.  You stared him down with a combination of anger and desperation in your eyes.  “Don’t.”

His eyes narrowed at you.  “What’s gotten into you?”  He asked.

“I told you. Nothing.”

He didn’t buy it.  His motion was quick, he pulled his wrist out of your grasp and both of his hands were on the sides of your helmet, his fingers pressed against the release for it, and he pulled it off of your head.  You ripped the damn thing out of his hands and slid it back on your head, but it was too late.  He’d already seen the bags underneath your eyes, and the exhaustion that was written in your tired gaze.

“You’re not sleeping,” he murmured.  “Are ya’?”

“That’s none of your business.”  You turned to walk away.  You didn’t need this confrontation, you could just go talk to Shaxx for bounties.  His hand wrapped around your arm and he tugged you back into the privacy of the alcove as his other hand wrapped around your bicep to hold you in place.

“Like hell it’s none of my business.  So I’m going to ask you one more time, what’s goin’ on with you?” 

You bit on the inside of your cheek.  “Please, Drifter,” you whispered.  “Please don’t do this.”

“Why?  What can be so bad that ya can’t tell me about it?”

“Drifter,” you said firmly, even though there was a small tremble in your voice.  “I don’t want to lose you too, please, don’t do this.”

His head cocked to the side.  “Now why would you be sayin’ that?  Drifter’s not goin’ anywhere, sister.”

“It’s not you,” you sighed.  You ran your hands through your hair.  “It’s me, okay?  Everyone I have ever let get close has died, Drifter, do you understand that?  I don’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I can see their faces, I can hear their voices asking me why I didn’t help them, I can see their blood on my hands.  So unless you want to be the next one on the receiving end of my bad luck, you need to back off.  Now.  Please…”

His hands dragged up your arms and placed them on the jaw of your helmet.  Fingers pressed against the release and he slid it off your head once more, though you didn’t pull it out of his hands this time.  “I know what it’s like to lose people, sister.  I’ve seen my fair share of death, but that doesn’t stop me from letting my head hit that pillow at the end of the day.”

“Well that’s good for you,” you muttered, “but I don’t have that luxury.”

Drifter sighed and he tossed your helmet in a crate full of scraps and parts.  “Alright, enough’s enough.”  

Before you realized what was happening, Drifter pulled the hood of your cloak over your head to hide your face and he picked you up off your feet.  You tried to squirm yourself out of his grasp as he started to walk out of the hall, but his grip was like iron.  “Drifter, please, stop,” you begged quietly.

“Uh-uh.  You need some sleep and I’m gonna see that you get it.”

“I don’t want to sleep!”

He laughed heartily as the two of you transmatted onto The Derelict.  “Tough.”

He set you down on the couch and you sat there, wide-eyed and frozen in place as he shuffled around the room.  When he came back over to you, he had an armful of blankets and a pillow.  You pulled your knees close to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs, but you kept a wary eye on him.  He plopped down on the couch next to you.  You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes in confusion as he settled the pillow in his lap.  You didn’t resist when he placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you down until your head rested on the pillow.  You sighed as he spread the blankets over you and you stretched out on the couch, feet hanging off the edge, and adjusted to lay on your back.  You looked up at Drifter as he leaned back against the couch and started to run his fingers through your hair.

Your eyes fluttered.  As hard as you tried to remain awake, his quiet tenderness was slowly lulling your exhausted mind into sleep.  And you did fall asleep.  You had the same vivid, haunting nightmare as the last time you slept.  But this time when you shot up out of your sleep and burst into tears, trembling and clutching onto your head, The Drifter was there to comfort you and reassure you that everything was going to be okay.

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