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nomie-11 · 17 hours ago

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Vi x Reader - Piltover's Princess

masterlist!

The first time Vi saw you, she had to do a double take, and then a triple take. Jayce Talis’ little sister, Piltover’s Princess. She was smitten.

“Cupcake, who is that?” She whispered with a nudge, not taking her eyes off of you as you crossed the room, a light and polite smile on your face.

“Hm?” Caitlyn turned her head to match Vi’s view. “Oh? Y/n? She’s a friend of mine.”

A brief moment passed where Vi tried to think of the proper words to say, but her mind was blank, not working properly at the sight of your radiant eyes.

“Do you think she’s gay?”

Caitlyn nearly spit out her wine.

—————————————

The second time Vi saw you, it was at one of Piltover’s extravagant galas. The kind where everyone looked like they were dipped in gold and smelled of old money. Vi hated these events, but Caitlyn had insisted she come along.

And there you were again. Standing near the balcony, your laughter ringing like bells over the dull murmur of ancient politicians and annoying industrialists. The soft moonlight spilling through the glass doors made your skin practically glow. Vi nudged Caitlyn, harder this time.

“She’s here,” Vi hissed, eyes glued to you like you were the only thing in the room.

“Yes, she’s here,” Caitlyn replied, sounding mildly amused. “She’s Jayce’s sister, Vi. Of course she’s here.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you tell me she’d be here?” Vi complained, fidgeting with the cuffs of her jacket.

“Vi, you look like you’re about to fight someone,” Caitlyn teased.

“I’m not! I just–” Vi trailed off as you glanced int their direction, your striking eyes meeting hers for the briefest second. Her heart did a strange little flip.

You smiled—a small, knowing thing—and waved.

Caitlyn, ever observant, caught the way Vi stiffened and the faint flush creeping up her cheeks. She grinned to herself.

“Go say hello,” Caitlyn suggested, nudging Vi toward you.

“Wait, what? No, I can’t just—”

But it was too late. Caitlyn had already started toward you, leaving Vi no choice but to follow.

“Y/n,” Caitlyn greeted warmly as she reached you, her voice smooth and composed. “It’s lovely to see you tonight.”

“Caitlyn!” you said, your face lighting up at the sight of her. Then your eyes flicked to Vi. “And…?”

“This is Vi,” Caitlyn introduced, her tone just a little too casual. “A close friend of mine.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning playful. “A friend, huh?”

Vi’s throat suddenly felt dry. She extended a hand, trying to keep it cool. “Vi. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you said, taking her hand. Your touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, and Vi was certain she saw something mischievous flicker in your eyes.

Caitlyn cleared her throat, drawing your attention back to her. “You look stunning tonight, Y/n,” she said, her voice softening just slightly. Then she leaned over to Vi, pretending to cough as she whispered: “Come on, idiot. Compliment her.”

“Yeah,” Vi managed to squeak out. “Your-uh-dress! It’s really pretty.”

Vi felt like she was drowning under the weight of your attention. You were polite, elegant, and… absolutely enchanting.

“Thank you, Caitlyn, and thank you as well, Vi,” you replied, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “You’re both too kind. And you clean up nicely yourselves.”

Vi could swear her cheeks were as pink as her hair, and she didn’t even get a direct compliment from you.

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “what brings you two to a place like this? Surely not the riveting conversation?”

Caitlyn chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “No, just the usual obligation. Though it’s not all bad now that you’re here.” The grin on Caitlyn’s face was mischievous as she glanced over at Vi, a flustered look on the fighter’s face.

Vi shot Caitlyn a look back, feeling completely out of her depth. You, however, seemed delighted by the interplay between them, your gaze flitting between the two with interest.

“Well,” you said, taking a step closer to Vi, your smiling widening, “maybe I’ll make your evening a little less boring.”

Vi’s heart practically stopped.

—------------------------

The third time she saw you, it was a rare day off for Vi, and she’d planned to spend it aimlessly wandering the bustling streets of Piltover. Caitlyn had tagged along, insisting she needed to check on a few vendors for some ongoing investigation. Vi didn’t mind; Caitlyn’s company was always better than being alone.

What she wasn’t expecting was to see you standing at a flower stall, holding a bouquet of brightly colored violets.

“Oh no,” Vi muttered under her breath, instinctively ducking behind Caitlyn.

“What is it now?” Caitlyn asked, turning to follow Vi’s line of sight. The second she spotted you, she smirked. “Oh, it’s Y/n. Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” Vi lied, her broad shoulder still visible behind Caitlyn despite Caitlyn’s towering figure.

“Sure you’re not.” Caitlyn adjusted her posture just slightly to block Vi further, her own tone suddenly a little too casual. “Though I can’t imagine why you’re panicking. She looks quite lovely today.”

“She’s always lovely,” Vi grumbled, her face heating up. “And she’s coming this way.”

Before either of them could think of a plan, you spotted them and lit up. “Caitlyn! Vi!” You called out, making a beeline for them with a bouquet in hand.

Caitlyn straightened immediately, all poise and grace. “Y/n! What a surprise to see you here.”

“Is it?” you teased, tilting your head. “This is the main market street, after all.”

“Right, of course,” Caitlyn said with a small smirk.

Vi, still half-hiding behind Caitlyn, managed a weak wave. “Hey.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by Vi’s sudden shyness. “Hi, Vi,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re not much of a flower person, are you?”

“I—uh—” Vi stammered, looking desperately at Caitlyn for help.

“She’s more of a practical type,” Caitlyn interjected smoothly, clearly enjoying Vi’s discomfort. “Tools and gadgets—although her name is Violet.”

“That makes sense,” you said, smiling at Vi, who looked like she was about to combust. “But they’d suit you, you know. A little color never hurts.”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. Caitlyn, sensing her friend’s distress, stepped in with a quick change of subject. “And the flowers? Are those for someone special?”

Your smile turned coy. “Maybe.” you glanced at Vi, who looked ready to fall through the cobblestones, and added, “You’ll have to wait and see.”

As you walked away, bouquet in hand, Ciatlyn turned to Vi with a smirk. “Smooth.”

“Shut up,” Vi muttered, watching you disappear into the crowd with a dazed expression.

—-----------------------------

The next time they saw you, it was at a small, high end cafe where Caitlyn had insisted on dragging Vi for lunch. Neither of them expected you to stroll in, dressed casually but no less stunning, and immediately notice them.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, already pulling out a chair before they could answer.

“Of course not,” Caitlyn said quickly, nudging Vi under the table when she failed to say anything.

Vi, startled out of her trance, nearly knocked over her glass of water. “Uh, yeah! Totally fine. Sit—uh—sit down.”

“I already am,” you said with a laugh, clearly enjoying her awkwardness.

The conversation started simple enough, with caitlyn asking about your family and Vi chiming in with the occasional comment. But then the server arrived, setting down the menus, and things quickly spiraled.

“What can I get you?” the server asked, turning to Caitlyn first.

“I’ll have the house special,” Caitlyn said smoothly, handing back the menu.

“And for you?” the server asked, looking at Vi.

Vi froze, realizing that she hadn’t even opened her menu. “Uh… I’ll have what she’s having.”

The server nodded and turned to you. “And you?”

You smiled. “Just the tea for now, thank you.”

Once the server left, you looked at Vi with a playful grin. “Didn’t peg you as a house special kind of girl.”

Vi shrugged, trying to act cool. “Yeah, well, it sounded… special.”

Caitlyn, meanwhile, was barely hiding her laughter behind a perfectly polite hand. “Smooth, Vi. Very smooth.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” you said, your voice warm as you reached across the table to lightly touch Vi’s hand. “I think it’s endearing.”

Vi immediately went red, her brain short-circuiting again. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at you, clearly nothing the way your gaze lingered on Vi a moment too long.

The rest of the meal was a blur for Vi, who barely managed to form coherent sentences. By the time you excused yourself with a wink and a promise to “see them soon,” Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, smirking at Vi.

“You’re hopeless,” Caitlyn said with a smug grin, sipping her tea.

Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I know.”

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

#vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #arcane piltover #piltover's gayest #vi x fem reader #arcane vi x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 20 hours ago

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To Those Who Wait 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn't resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.”

“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine.

“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.”

She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh.

“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.”

“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.”

You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.”

You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.”

“Right, sure.”

You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath.

You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up.

The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message.

‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’

You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette.

‘I can dig some out’ you type back.

You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place.

Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering.

You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple.

The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde.

Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television.

Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis.

‘Here. I think.’

‘I’ll come down’. You type back.

You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more.

‘Right by the door.’

You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet.

You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod.

“Not at all.”

“I shoulda warned you,” he says.

“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin.

“Oh?”

“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down.

“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.”

He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there.

“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side.

“Sure, uh... right.”

You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick.

“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street.

“Ready,” you assure him.

He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it?

When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night.

You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing.

“We’re here,” he proclaims.

You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously.

“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar. “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.”

“Mhm, good friend.”

“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.”

You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?”

He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.”

You frown. What a strange answer.

You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near.

“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow.

He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.”

“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp.

He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.”

He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant.

“You got a lot of experience?”

“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.”

“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself.

“Go ahead.”

“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.”

“You want a few tips?”

“Think I need them.”

“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.”

You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.”

You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder.

“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.”

He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening.

Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.”

You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.

“Lucky,” you say.

“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?”

“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.”

“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.”

You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun.

“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.”

“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head.

“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.”

🎯

The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind.

“That was nice,” he says. “I think.”

You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike.

“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.”

You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.”

“You had fun?” He asks.

“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.”

“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.”

“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.”

“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh.

“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”

He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?”

“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“I’ll text,” he mutters.

“I’ll answer.”

You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew.

You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed.

You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date!

Was it really real? After everything? You think so.

You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished.

Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all.

You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal.

You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better.

Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid.

You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod.

It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for...

‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’

You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit.

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it.

You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb.

You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away.

You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space.

Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares.

“Slut.”

The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch.

You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down.

You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else.

You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp.

‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight.

The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly.

‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’

‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send.

He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’

‘No thx. Not interested’

‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’

You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for.

‘No. Pls don’t message again.’

You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How?

The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence.

He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too.

It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret.

You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before?

📱

��I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window.

“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says.

“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.”

His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.”

“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.”

“You’re right though,” he snorts.

“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.”

“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.”

“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.”

He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.”

The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands.

“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.”

“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain.

“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?”

“I like them but they still scare me,” you say.

“Really? Something actually scares you?”

“What do you mean?” You scoff.

He stares at you. “Do you really not know?”

“Know... what?”

“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.”

“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.”

“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.”

“RBF?” You wonder.

“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.”

You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away.

“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?”

🍿

The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.

You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths.

You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders.

“Scared yet?” He asks.

You giggle, “only a little.”

He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting.

You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder.

“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases.

“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.”

You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.”

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?”

“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer.

You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away.

He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?”

You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.”

“Can I do it again?” He asks.

You quiver and nod, “sure.”

He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer.

A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.

You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

“I need your bathroom. Sorry.”

You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you?

That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win.

You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself.

You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh.

No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote.

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Curtis asks.

“Yep.” You call back.

“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says.

You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night.

“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move.

“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.”

“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?”

He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?”

You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him.

“So why are you running away?”

He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'.

“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.”

He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.”

“So yeah...”

He narrows his eyes, “is that it?”

You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.”

You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.”

You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape.

“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.”

You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?”

He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?”

He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought. You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.

“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.”

#curtis everett #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #curtis everett x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #knives out #to those who wait #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #snowpiercer

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hunterofartemis7 · 2 days ago

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After Odysseus left for war, Penelope kept all his clothes, capes, jewelry etc tucked safely away in the closet for when he returned. She allowed no one touch them, not even herself really, that was until Telemachus found them. She left Telemachus alone with one of the maid, who was Athena in disguise, while she went to handle queen stuff. She came back a few hours later to find her son hiding under one of his fathers capes, and wearing one of his tops that was way to big for the baby. The young princess also somehow managed to get a hold of his father’s jewelry which he was both wearing, and trying to eat.

Penelope was of course confused as to how her infant son even got into a locked closet until she saw Athena trying not to laugh her head off.

“I’m sorry,” the goddess laughed, “he kept trying to get in the closet and I can’t say no to his little wolf eyes.”

Penelope wanted to be angry at her husbands mentor, but couldn’t when she saw how cute her son looked. She smiled and picked him up off the floor. “You’ll grow into them someday my son.”

“I can make small version of Odysseus clothes for Telemachus if you want. Just until he grows into them.” Athena offered, picking some of the random clothes off the floor.

“You just want an excuse to make my son small outfits.”

“Guilty.” The goddess smiled. “But I’m not hearing a no.”

The queen submitted and agreed to let Athena make smaller versions of her husband clothes for her son. She can’t say she didn’t hate it. Penelope liked seeing Telemachus crawling around like a small copy of Odysseus. As years went on, Athena continued to do this for Telemachus, while occasionally clipping a piece of Odysseus jewelry to his shirt or cape. Penelope loved seeing how exited Telemachus would get when his grandmother or aunt said he looked just like his father. He’d run around the place pretending to fight a boar like his father, getting a laugh out of the guards who saw him. Telemachus even convinced his mom to cut his hair like his father for a while. But as 10 years turns to 15, to 20, Telemachus had actually grown into Odysseus clothes and had no reason to have copies made anymore. He did it to feel closer to his father, and hoped he wouldn’t be mad when he came home. The suitors were the first to make a bad comment about it. They teased him from wanting to look like a knock off Odysseus, or for dressing like the man who abandoned him.

One real bad experience with Antonius made him want to stop wearing them all together, but Athena encouraged him to ignore what those other men were saying and wear them anyway. He was honoring his father by wearing the clothes. So he kept at it. When Odysseus was finally home, he didn’t immediately notice his son was wearing his clothes, just that his armor resembled Athena. Actually he barely noticed that until late at night once everyone was asleep and he was replaying the memories in his head. It wasn’t till the next morning after he had taken a bath that Odysseus went to his closet and found all his old clothes had disappeared, minus a few that were to big for him.

“Hey Penelope, did you hide my clothes somewhere?” He asked “I mean I don’t mind walking around nude in front of you, but I’d rather not traumatize our son.”

Penelope had a good idea where they were, but was gonna let her husband figure it out. “No, I always kept them in there.”

“Huh.” Odysseus there confused for a moment before grabbing one of the oversized garments from the his wardrobe. “Well this’ll work for now till I figure this out.”

Penelope held back from laughing, “this is going to be a fun morning.” She thought to herself.

“Well if you’re ready, we should head down to breakfast.” Penelope held her hand out for her husband. “Don’t want to miss your first real meal with your son.”

Meanwhile, Telemachus was getting ready in his chamber. He had snatched on of his father garments, jewelry, belt and sword holster. He’d already be out the door if Athena, (who had been staying with the royal family since his diplomatic mission) would quit fussing with his hair. “Athena knock it off!” He groaned trying to pull his head away.

“Once I get it out of your face I will, now hold still!” She snapped, making him face forward.

“Did you do this to dad?”

“When we were training yes.” She answered, cutting Telemachus hair out of his face. “Until he learned to put it up himself.”

“Okay okay okay!” He got up and shook the hair off him.

“Why do I even try?” Athena signed setting the scissors down. “You should head out now. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked her.

Athena shook her head, “go on ahead without me, I’ll be there in a minute.”

The young prince nodded and ran out to the dining room to meet up with his parents. He ran in there and plopped down beside Odysseus, who had just figured out where all his clothes had gone. “Morning father!” He said brightly.

“Morning.” Odysseus replied looking at his son’s clothes. Penelope was across from Telemachus, trying not to laugh at her husband who was trying to find the right words to address this. Telemachus noticed both the strange smiles on his parents faces and got confused. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing. Just surprised my old wardrobe fits you.”

Telemachus was a bit confused by the comments until he remembered that he was in fact wearing his father’s clothes. The boys face turned bright red with embarrassment and he practically shot out of his seat, apologizing over and over again to his father and saying his go change. Odysseus grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat.

“My son you have no reason to apologize.” The old king said patting his son on the back. “Im glad to see you have my same taste in style.” Telemachus buried his face in his hands at his father’s teasing.

“He actually started wearing them to be closer to you.” Penelope told her husband whose face lit up in awe.

“Awwwww really?” Odysseus beamed, putting an arm around his son. “That’s really sweet my boy.” Telemachus buried his head in his father’s hair, his face beat red with embarrassment. It didn’t help when Odyssues made the comment about needing a whole new wardrobe since it seemed a little owl had nicked his. “So is this a new thing or?” Odyssues began to ask.

“No, he’s done this since you left for Troy.” His wife answered, which surprised Odysseus.

“Really?” The king asked, “that long?”

“Yeah. He managed to get a few of your things from your closet, well, Athena unlocked it and let him go nuts.” The Queen explained. “And both her and I made smaller versions of your closet until he grew into your normal ones.”

“Ofc Athena had an hand in this.” Odysseus thought to himself. “Please tell me you kept those, cause I would love to see them.”

“Ofc I did.” She smiled.

“Yes!” Odysseus cheered.

Penelope smiled at her boys. Odysseus who was very excited and Telemachus who was an embarrassed mess. “You two are so cute.”

@platinumink

#athena #athena epic #odysseus #epic the musical #greek mythology #athena goddess of wisdom #epic odysseus #penelope of ithaca #telemachus

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navysealt4t · 7 months ago

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the gay experience of slightly wanting to kill yourself in your grandparents bathroom

#i just can’t go out there and pretend like i’m loved with all of them anymore i cant #my dads gonna shut off my phone and my parents r gonna yell at me but i can’t anymore #ive never felt more lonely than i have around these fucking people #i wish i could go on a walk without all of them knowing that i left #man why did i leave my fucking shoes next to the door i should have brought them back here #vent

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barley-st-band · 8 months ago

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hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

#she speaks #oh gang we’re really in it now #i don’t think i’ve ever felt this bad this deeply in my whole life lol #the burnout just keeps accumulating past any point i thought it could reach #and i can’t even pretend at work anymore #i’m so tired and these kids are so infuriating and it builds and builds every time they do something shitty #and i love them and it’s not their fault they’re just kids and they’re tired and it’s almost summer #but god i can’t fucking do it anymore #how exactly am i supposed to survive the next two weeks #the class i’m taking is too confusing and too fast paced #and i didn’t buy the textbook bc it’s 200 fucking dollars #and our apartment is always a mess #and i can’t keep up with friendships and feel like i’m constantly letting them down #and there’s nothing i can do to fix any of it #until the school year is over #bc at this point it takes everything i have just to get up and go to work in the mornings #but then i still have to somehow find energy to do other stuff too. and like actually teach.#i have to grade and do report cards and return materials and clean up my classroom #i need to complete a checklist the size of a novel before i leave for the summer #i need to keep the kids engaged but none of us want to be here #i need to start organizing to make next year easier #i need to fill out paperwork and spreadsheets and update my password and find time to feed myself and grade more papers and #vacuum the floors and scoop litter and clean up clutter and do dishes and wipe down counters #and i haven’t been able to fucking do any of it in months and left so many chores to my poor partner who’s also going through it #bc i have nothing left and i don’t know what to do!! i want to scream every minute of every day bc i’m so beyond overwhelmed the moment #i wake up in the morning but i don’t have time for a meltdown so i just keep going!!#i wish i had better words to explain how bad it’s gotten but the brain fog has gotten so so bad #i can barely think i can’t make decisions my memory and recall have gotten so much worse #i take my anxiety meds so often that they’ve stopped working #and yet i still worry that i’m making it up and being dramatic. anyway sorry about all this lol

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fingertipsmp3 · 4 months ago

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I really need to get a proper job so I’ll be too tired to have insane ideas like “what if I learned 5 romance languages all at once”

#it was a false alarm i was not fired. i do have projects again now #i also have a job interview but i don’t hold out a lot of hope for it because i didn’t do the assessments they wanted me to do #because they felt like psychological torture #anyway. yeah so i woke up and was browsing the duolingo subreddit and someone mentioned a challenge someone did where they tried learning #swedish; danish and norwegian all at once #which……. with all the love in the world that sounds pointless to do i’m sorry #i speak a tiny bit of swedish and i tried learning danish and i was like ‘this is just swedish but with worse pronunciation’#anyway. it made me think what if i tried learning spanish; french; italian; portuguese and romanian all at once #i’m already learning spanish and i’m getting pretty okay at it but i keep encountering the other romance languages #and i really want to learn them tbh. i did some french in school and i’ve always liked it and i love the sounds of italian and portuguese #and romanian seems really interesting because it’s so different from the other four languages since it has slavic influences #but i do think this would break my brain and also be impossible. can’t pretend otherwise #and i have been reading posts abt learning similar languages at the same time and everyone is like ‘it’s a bad idea don’t do it’ LOL #but also like.. there’s no law against it. i’m allowed to do this. i don’t work normal hours #my brain keeps being like ‘learn five extremely similar languages all at once. you will definitely not regret learning five extremely #similar languages all at once. learning five extremely similar languages all at once cannot possibly go badly for you’#maybe i could just pick up romanian since it’s the least similar and wait until i have a good grasp of both that and spanish #and then pick up french since that’s also not Too similar #or i could just learn the absolute basics in the other 4 (not spanish since i know the basics of spanish. hopefully) and pick my favourite #i think i can keep two languages separate from each other. i haven’t tried to answer a spanish question in esperanto in like.. a month #personal

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eupheme · 5 months ago

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— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happy to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

#gorgeous gif by @ayo-edebiri!#wolverine x reader x deadpool #wolverine x reader #deadpool x reader #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader

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de8thm8rt · 11 months ago

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#i don’t know how you could post something like this and not see anything wrong with it like you really think you’re the victim #the complete lack of moral apathy is sickening and pathetic my mental health is great but the people of palestine are going through a much #worse mental health crisi than you like if those post make you uncomfortable imagine actually being in the situation when all your loved #ones are dying and your home is being bombed then when palestine is liberated inshallah rebuilding will take years and healing from all the #grief and trauma will take years if you feel bad imagine for one second how bad they feel #honestly these type of posts remind of why i don’t like talking about racism with white people because it makes them so visibly #uncomfortable like if you’re uncomfortable imagine i fucking feel having to deal with racism my entire life there are even studies show how #it negatively impacts your mental health but i literally have no choice to but deal with because i’m black like i just can’t pretend it #doesn’t exist becuase it makes uncomfortable and that doesn’t it stop it from being real because you shut your eyes and cover your ears #seriously think outside of yourself and about other people for once get a grip you are out of touch with reality #living in a patheic childish delusion #sorry i had to get that off my chest i don’t usually post like this #rafah #palestine #gaza #free gaza #free palestine #tel aviv #jerusalem

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pomegranatesarchive · 4 months ago

Note

A female f1 driver who was featured in the barbie movie as the f1 driver. You could write about her scene and working with the Margot and Ryan lol, and how the grid reacts to it. Lanpd could be her bf or not if you don't want.

You don't have to absolutely write if it doesn't strike any inspiration and you obviously can write whatever you want you xoxo

barbie girl | redbull!reader

pairing: f1 grid x reader

summary: redbull!reader does a cameo in the barbie movie

part of my ‘redbull!reader’ series

liked by alex_albon, landonorris, and 816,027 others!

yourusername: this barbie is a f1 driver! 🎀 barbie is out now in theaters near you <33 (or not near you? idk where you lot live)

view comments below!

user1: yn is just hitting all these side quests because what?

user1: happy for her tho!

user2: is this what it’s like to be so rich that you can literally do whatever you want?

user3: YN CAMEO!!!!

user4: WE CHEERED

user5: omw to see barbie now

landonorris: i know where you live

user6: can someone tell me her part in the movie? my parents won’t let me see it 😓

user7: she’s a f1 driver barbie, and she’s gets into a relationship with f1 driver ken (played by glen powell) throughout the movie you could see like snippets of them going from friends to bf and gf!! you could probably find some clips on youtube or something :)

user6: thank you <33

user7: GLEN POWELL????

user8: THE CAPYBARA GUY???

charles_leclerc: i can be your ken 😊

yourusername: no thank you i already have my glen ken!

charles_leclerc: but he can’t drive a REAL f1 car

yourusername: i can teach him

charles_leclerc: FINE

charles_leclerc: BE LIKE THAT THEN

charles_leclerc: I DONT CARE

charles_leclerc: GOSH

glenpowell: i would like to make it very clear that i have no interest in learning how to drive a f1 car!

charles_leclerc: NO ONE CARES GLEN

user9: i love when yn posts because i just know the comments are going to be filled with the drivers acting like they have no decorum

landonorris: i know where you live

alex_albon: movie night?

maxverstappen1: i already watched it

georgerussell63: we know…we all saw the picture of you decked out in pink at the movie theater

user10: LMAO

user11: it makes so much sense that the first time we see max in pink is when he’s supporting yn

lewishamilton: so excited to see it! 🩷

yourusername: love you 💚

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU TOO YN

maxverstappen1: i want love

alex_albon: can’t remember the last time you said that to me…sigh…

georgerussell63: love me next?

oscarpiastri: playing favorites i see 🤨

landonorris: i love you too 🥰

user12: bring back shame

user13: their desperation makes me sick

oscarpiastri: i guess ill watch barbie now

yourusername: why are you pretending like you weren’t the first to ask me for spoilers?

oscarpiastri: no clue what you’re talking about???

yourusername: mhm sure osc sure

user14: osc 🥹

landonorris: i know where you live

yourusername: what is wrong with you?

landonorris: i’m outside your door

user15: it’s official, lando is killing yn so he can win more races

. . .

notes: thank you for requesting!! hope you don’t mind i used this for my redbull!reader au :)

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maskedbyghost · 4 months ago

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lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

#simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you

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yandere-daydreams · 14 days ago

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Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions. It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere batman #yandere dc #dc x reader #batman x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd

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not-neverland06 · 5 months ago

Text

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment.

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan.

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation.

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling.

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding.

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name.

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected.

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head.

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit.

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles.

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout.

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it.

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean.

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly.

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath.

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something.

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check.

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull.

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott.

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger.

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps.

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him.

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be.

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes.

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest.

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space.

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices.

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together.

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart.

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen.

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others.

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal.

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside.

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear.

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers.

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds.

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other.

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs.

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan.

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities.

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid.

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode.

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns.

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being.

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids.

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone.

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission.

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave.

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy.

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse.

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold.

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen.

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead.

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down.

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue.

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur.

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened.

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash.

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up.

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this.

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize.

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus.

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up.

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more.

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be.

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal.

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too.

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia.

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze.

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire.

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold.

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you.

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment.

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire.

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you.

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming.

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him.

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus.

#wolverine x reader #Wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #Wolverine

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saturdaymournings · 1 year ago

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Fuck EVERYONE who ever taught me to hate myself. I was never like this before and I never deserved to feel this way about myself. The hardest part of this is the fact that I know it’s just been instilled in me! I could have been different. Fuck, I was different! I was happy to just exist as myself. I didn’t care what other people thought. Now I’m just like you. Fuck you for taking that away from me

#Yeah sorry folks I do hate myself for being queer sometimes I wouldn’t have it any other way but i also wish I didn’t have to sacrifice #Fucking everything I’ve ever loved #Either sacrifice myself (the only person it seems has ever really loved me)#Or sacrifice everyone I live for. What a fucking choice. A choice I knew I had to make from the age of 11 because of the way ive been treat #I’ve had a good life and I will continue to. I’m fucking privileged and I notice that. But I wish I didn’t have to live like this sometimes #I’ve never been a girl. I’ve always liked them. Why are those things that make me weak. Why do they make me wrong. What is all of this even #Fucking for. How much do I have to suffer before anyone even cares whether I live or just pretend to.#I used to fantasise about trying to kill my self. Not actually dying but waking up in the hospital. My mum saying that it’s okay. That she #can accept me being a boy and that she’s just glad I’m alive. Why the fuck should anyone ever feel like that. It’s so fucked.#Instead I’m just told that my mental health is a burden. That everyone walks on eggshells around me. That everyone hopes Ive grown out of i #That everyone loves my deadname. That everyone would be disappointed if I wore a suit. That people would talk. I can’t FUCKING TAKE IT.#I’ll be okay though. Don’t worry about me. I’ll repress it a bit more. It’ll go a bit further down. I’ll practise my little self care ritua #And eat good and try and tell myself that maybe it’s not all bad.#And I’ll tell myself that I’m being dramatic when I cry myself to sleep #Genuinely tho don’t worry about me this will probably all be forgotten by the morning it’s just sad boy hours

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seonghwaddict · 9 months ago

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save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #ateez #ateez x reader #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi reactions #mingi imagines #mingi smut #mingi fluff #mingi angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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ellecdc · 2 months ago

Text

The Bolter

Sirius Black x fem!reader who meet again [5.5k words]

prompt: poly!wolfstar or just Sirius x reader in which they were friends with benefits but it was obvious they loved each other even though they acted like they weren’t. Then, reader finds out shes pregnant and before telling them, they do something stupid. so reader runs away for a few months. When she comes back (only bc she had to for some reason) shes like 6-7 months pregnant

CW: secret pregnancy, angst, FWB to strangers to lovers, second chance fic, post war trauma, both Sirius and reader are meeesssssssssssyyyyy in this! I don't approve of what they've done but I understand it

“So…she’s coming back?” Sirius asked cautiously, focusing more on the condensation pooling on the coaster underneath his pint than the concerned gazes of his two best friends.

“Well, I don’t know if she’s coming back, but she’ll be here for Harry’s birthday.” James mollified, sharing a nervous look with Remus.

“Right.” Sirius murmured around a swallow; throat tight and dry though neither the pint nor the pitcher of water in front of him looked as though they’d be able to help him with the matter.

“Are you going to be alright?” Remus queried, and Sirius offered him the most arrogant scoff he could muster; he missed by a long shot.

“Of course I’m going to be alright.” He huffed. “Why? Can’t two friends see each other after five and a half months of silence?”

“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius carried on.

“She’s the only one who’s been silent, you know?” Though he knew that they did indeed both know. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried reaching out.”

“Pads.” Remus offered consolingly, looking frustratingly like he was going to reach a hand out to Sirius as if he were some over tired toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

“Stop, no I- I’m fine, honest.” He insisted as he took a steadying breath. “I- you… talked to her, then?”

James and Remus shared another look before James allowed the segue.

“Mostly by owl, but she has spoken on the phone with Lily a few times.”

Sirius nodded as he considered this; considered the number of owls Sirius had sent that had gone unanswered - perhaps even unopened if the silence meant anything at all.

“She’s…okay?”

Remus let out a sigh as he shot Sirius a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. “She’s…vague.”

“She doesn’t share a whole lot.” James agreed. “Says she’s fine, things are good. Mostly asks about…all of us, Harry.”

“She’s still staying with that great aunt,” Remus added, “helping her with the property.”

“She seeing anyone?” There was no point in pretending that wasn’t the most pressing matter in Sirius’ mind; of course it was. And as angry and bitter as the idea made Sirius, it would have been his own fault, his own doing. He had no one to blame but himself.

And he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he was the one who let you slip away - pushed you away - right into the arms of someone else.

“Not that she’s mentioned.” Remus responded honestly; he couldn’t say for sure that you weren’t, but if you were, you clearly hadn’t said anything about it.

“Right.” Sirius offered shortly.

“Pads, I…we would understand if it's too hard for you to see her. If you can’t come-”

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius scoffed deploringly. “I’m not going to miss my godson’s birthday. If anyone should be missing it, it should be her; I’ve been here for the past four and a half months, she’s the one who fucked off for good.”

“Sirius-”

“I don’t understand why you had to invite her!” Sirius shouted then, startling even himself when he realised how breathless he sounded all of a sudden.

James smiled at him sadly; Sirius wished he’d stop doing that. “We wanted all of Harry’s uncles and his aunt to be there, Sirius…it’s important, yeah? We…we almost didn’t get this chance.”

Sirius could feel a wicked migraine coming on; between talking about you, the close calls and the fact that the group of you were all alive following the war by nothing but chance, and the fact that the person Sirius was most angry with was himself, he downed the rest of his pint and flagged the server in favour of having to look at the pitiful gazes being shot at him by Remus and James.

Sirius couldn’t tell if he was eager for Harry’s second birthday or dreading it. But like it or not, Sirius was going to be seeing you again.

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

It felt beyond foolish now, but it had felt like a good idea at the time.

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“Sirius, we just won. We just won, why do you have to leave now?” You practically begged as you followed Sirius through his flat.

“Because if I don’t get out now, I’m going to be stuck here for eternity.” He all but spat at you as he shoved articles of clothing into his duffle rather haphazardly. You felt like grabbing the bag from him and folding them properly if the act wouldn’t leave you feeling like you were aiding and abetting his abandoning you.

“But what about James? And Remus? What about Harry? You fought this war for them, and they for you - we just got them back!”

“And they’ll be here when I’m ready to come home!” Sirius shouted; turning to look at you with wild, red rimmed eyes.

“What about me?” You asked quietly, hating how small you sounded.

“What about you?” He asked; face falling painfully neutral. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was occluding.

“I…I don’t know.” You started awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought…maybe we’d have a chance now. To try?.”

“Y/N.” Sirius sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; entire being oozed exhaustion at having to have this conversation with you. “Have I not been entirely clear about what this was between us?”

“Right.” You agreed quickly, biting roughly on your lip and looking anywhere but at him as he let his hand fall away from his face.

“It’s…it’s not you, doll-” but even your humourless scoff didn’t derail him “I’m not the kind to settle down and be content I- I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I’m not asking you for any more than what we have, Sirius-”

“Yes you are.”

“-I just want you to stay.”

“That’s too much for me.” He stated; his voice never raised though he may as well have screamed it at you. “I cannot sit here and play house, I cannot be that guy for you.”

“Cannot or will not?” You asked quietly, regretting the question the second it came out of your mouth and he looked at you with nothing but pity in his eyes.

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I asked.” You let out with a chuckle as you harshly wiped tears from under your eyes.

“It’s…it’s not forever, yeah? I just…I can’t see myself being happy here…not right now, at least; not for a while.”

“Where will you go?” Your voice grated painfully as it came out, but you tried to keep an air of nonchalance about you. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could see his shoulders shrug helplessly.

“I don’t know…everywhere. Anywhere.”

Anywhere was better than stuck here with you, apparently.

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is.” You offered, and you found that you meant it. As much as it hurt to say, you really, really meant it. Sirius had been fighting and running his entire life, and he finally won. If he wanted to celebrate his victory by taking off to be that rich, vague uncle who popped by with lavish gifts every so often, who were you to deny him?

You loved him.

You were in love with him.

You loved him enough to let him go.

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

He had sent James a postcard a few weeks later. Turns out he started in the South of France; his family had a home there that had been left untouched by the war, and Sirius was going to start by figuring out what to do with the property.

And you? Well, you found out you were pregnant.

You suppose it was a small mercy that Sirius wasn’t here to know; you’re sure it would have hurt more hearing him tell you he was leaving if there were two of you he couldn’t find it in him to love. You would have hated it even more if he felt trapped into staying with you just for this.

But all this meant was that you couldn’t stay, either.

You supposed that was alright, though; the life you wanted to build here was with Sirius. You loved your friends, but you had a little one to think about now, too.

You made up a story about a great aunt needing help tending to her property and wishing to be closer to your relatives now that you could be, now that it was safe. No one questioned it, likely because Remus had done the same following the war; moving back home to help his dad and ailing mother tend the property in whatever ways he could.

You found yourself a little cottage, you wrote to the boys and had the occasional phone call with Lily, and you grew.

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

But now you were almost six months pregnant and returning home for the first time since you moved to celebrate your nephew’s birthday with all of your closest friends, the love of your life whose child you were carrying, and none of them knew.

You wondered if you should even go, but the thought of missing out on sweet Harry’s second birthday that the lot of you almost never got the chance to see made your throat constrict with tears you refused to shed since the war.

You wondered if you should tell everyone before you arrived, but the thought of them all discussing you and your pregnancy without you being there left you feeling small and ashamed.

You wondered if you should tell Sirius, but you looked over at the stack of unopened letters he had sent to you in the past four months - the first thin, perhaps a postcard, the second and third were thicker, the fourth was by far the thickest (like he had drafted an autobiography that he wanted you to proofread for him), the fifth was similar to the second, whilst the sixth (the last) couldn’t be more than one page - and wondered how the hell you’d even start that conversation after all this time.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, the bird who caught feelings during our friends with benefits situation that we both agreed would remain platonic amidst a battle for survival and then begged you to stay with no success? Well, whilst you’ve been off probably shagging every beautiful woman across the British Isles, I’ve been pregnant. Right, with your child. How was France, by the way?

You swallowed around your gag reflex and groaned at your image in the mirror. You put on a pair of gingham pants with the baggiest band-tee you could find, planned on sucking in the best you could if anyone (when everyone) insisted on a hug and hoped to every deity that they all just assumed you’d been eating really well since the end of the war.

You smoothed the fabric over your bump one last time before you left - looking at the proof that, if nothing else, you were protecting more than just yourself, and you let that be enough - before you grabbed Harry’s birthday present and called for Potter Manor, throwing a fistfull of floo powder into your fireplace and travelling by way of the flames.

You could hear Harry squealing in delight in one of the adjacent rooms as you stepped into the floo reception room at Potter Manor; a smile taking over your face uninhibitedly at the sounds of the people you loved more than life itself, happy and celebrating.

How could you have gone so long without this?

“Y/N!” Lily shrieked as she made for you, and you sucked in before returning her hug. “Merlin, you're glowing! Where’s your aunt's place again?”

“Erm. Killarney.” You offered; not entirely untrue - you did have an aunt in Killarney.

“Well,” she let out with a breath, eyes turning a touch glassy as they darted across your face, “it seems that Irish air’s been for you.”

You smiled back at your friend before pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ve missed you, Lils.”

“Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah? We can come to you, too; I’m teaching James how to be a muggle, and Harry’s only had the odd burst of accidental magic yet. We could play the part in front of your aunt.”

“I’d love that, Lily.” You responded earnestly.

“Y/N!” James hollered then before you were being bodily tackled by the former quidditch chaser, a brief flash of anxiety at his hold around your stomach abating only when he relinquished his hold on you. “Where in the sodding hell have you been!?”

“Killarney.” Lily answered for you.

“I love Killarney!”

“Have you ever been to Killarney, Prongs?” Remus asked then, appearing in the door as he leaned against the archway.

“No! But I love it there! I just know it!”

“Hey Moony.” You greeted, quickly accepting his open arms and breathing him in.

“We’ve missed you.” He murmured into your hair, and you couldn’t help the traitorous hitch in your heart that he might’ve meant-

“Uncle Pafoo!” Harry squealed, suddenly standing right underneath you.

“That’s right, Haz!” The voice that haunts your dreams called out. “Auntie is here!”

“Hullo, Harry!” You cheered as you picked him up, sucking in before settling on your hip. “Happy birthday, little dude.”

“Am two!” He announced as he held up four fingers.

“You are two! Way to go!” You laughed. “Is everyone here?” You asked the room, shooting Sirius a tight smile so you couldn’t be accused of hostility when your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason.

He looked tired - a bone deep tired that no amount of sleep could rectify - and the bags under his eyes seemed to be chronic. But he was still so beautiful; his hair had grown slightly longer since the last time you’d seen it, the last time you’d run your fingers through it, the last time you’d brought sheers to it, and he donned more than a few new tattoos if the few you could see were enough to go by.

You had to look away.

“Reg’s going to be by after work; his part-time student called in sick so he needed to be there to close the shop himself. Thankfully, they’re only open in the morning on Sunday’s.” Remus explained kindly.

“Good, it’ll be nice to see him.” You offered, and the room fell slightly awkward.

“Uncle Pafoo, aeroplane?” Harry asked then, and whatever exhaustion seemed to be plaguing Sirius vanished as he beamed at his godson.

“Absolutely, little man!” He agreed, holding his arms out and taking Harry’s weight from you.

“Do you want something to drink, Y/N? Wine? Beer, Cider? Juice? Water?” James rapid fire, causing Lily to groan.

“We just got her back, Potter. Do try to control yourself.”

“Water would be great, Jamie. Thank you.” You laughed, following the group into the open concept kitchen-to-living room.

Save the fact that you and Sirius seemed to be doing acrobatics to avoid each other, you were almost stunned at how easy and natural being back here felt. Regulus returned and the two of you shared friendly jibes, Lily caught you up on all of the drama at the Ministry, James strong armed you into agreeing to join them for their next pub quiz night, and Remus said that your old professors all wished you well.

You loved your cottage - the home you’d built for yourself and your little one - but you found yourself feeling homesick for here, and you hadn’t even left yet.

You were leaning on your elbows against the kitchen island, watching Sirius and Regulus pretend to be knights in shining armour as they fought off a fire breathing dragon (Harry) to save the princess (James) when Remus appeared beside you and mirrored your stance.

“It’s not the same without you, you know?” He murmured then.

“But they seem to be alright.” You responded simply, and Remus allowed the two of you to fall into silence for a few beats.

“How far along are you?”

You stood up straight and turned to stare at him in horror, only to see him smiling kindly at you.

“How do you-”

“Lycanthropy - I could smell it on you.” He said with an embarrassed wrinkle of his nose. “I knew Lily was pregnant before she did.”

You shushed him and looked over your shoulder to ensure no one else could hear you.

“Come.” He said with a sigh, gently taking you by the elbow and ushering you out of the sliding doors to the back yard and closing it behind the two of you.

“Remus-”

“Is it his?” He cut you off; his face held no judgement though perhaps just a touch of concern. For you or his best friend/virtual brother-in-law, you weren’t sure.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about; you both knew.

Remus simply nodded as he looked you over. “Is that why you left?”

“He left first.” You hissed petulantly.

“He left you, but you left all of us.” Remus countered somewhat sternly. “Besides, I didn’t ask about him; is this why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because, Remus!” You shouted, tears flooding your vision as you turned to look at him. “Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to force him to come back just because… just because.”

“Don’t you think he should have been able to make that choice for himself?” Remus asked gently.

“He chose! He did choose! He told me he couldn’t play house, he told me he couldn’t be this person for me. I loved him enough to accept that. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“Loved?” Remus asked with a tilt of his head. “Past tense?”

“Remus.” You groaned. “Please.”

“He came back for you, you know.” Remus pointed out. “He left you, you left us, but he came back for you.”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Y/N.”

“And so what if it is?” You nearly sobbed. “So what if he did, Remus? What can I do? I can’t go back in time and change my mind, I can’t go back and fix this. He made choices, I made choices, and here we are.”

Remus heaved a sigh and looked at you sadly. “I don't think either of you realise that your choices don’t have to remain permanent; there can be an expiration date on them.”

You were catching your breath from your mini temper tantrum when you heard the glass door slide open, both you and Remus turning to see Sirius standing there almost shy - far shier than you’d ever seen him before.

“Just talk to him? Okay? You..don’t have to tell him now, just…talk to him.” Remus whispered before heading towards the door, clapping Sirius on the back before disappearing back into the house.

“Hey.” Sirius offered cautiously after a few beats of silence, coming to stand beside you as the two of you looked over the railing of the patio to the rest of the manor grounds.

“Hey.” You returned dumbly, clearing your throat before continuing. “You…you look good, Sirius.”

Sirius scoffed, and you could feel your shoulder rising before you saw him smirk at you - if not somewhat sadly - cutting you a playful glare from the corner of his eye. “Did you take up lying there in Ireland?”

You let out a breathy half-laugh. “I’m not lying.”

“Then you need glasses. I look like shite.”

“You look tired.” You amended.

“I’m exhausted.” He agreed, and the two of you lapsed into silence.

“You look good, though.” He continued. “Healthy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Funny what not having to run on rations and broken hours of sleep on military cots does for a person.”

“Why haven’t I heard from you, Y/N?” He blurted then, turning his entire body to face you.

“Sirius, I-”

“Everyone else has. You’ve spoken to Lily on the phone. James and Remus have gotten letters. Even Reg got a postcard for his birthday.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage to say.

“I wrote to you.” He continued. “Letters, a lot. Did you get them?”

You nodded your head yes shamefully.

“Did you read them?”

You felt your heart splinter at how hopeful and heartbroken he sounded over it. You felt like scum of the earth when you shook your head no, and he let out a sigh.

“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better, then.” He said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

You found yourself taking a step away from him when you asked “why does that make you feel better?”

He let out a humourless laugh that forced smoke from his lips. “At least now I know that my begging for a second chance, begging you to come home, professing my love for you isn’t what kept you away.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up, Y/N.” He declared earnestly. “I…I was fucking scared, terrified. I’d spent so much of my life living with one foot on the threshold of hell that after the war, I didn’t know how to live amongst the undead.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as if he’d run all the way here just to tell you something. “And I ran. I bolted, I…”

“You left.” You finished for him.

“I left.” He agreed. “I… I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know what?” You asked as you choked back tears.

“Didn’t know what I had, or what I wanted. Or that I had everything that I wanted.”

“And you do, now? You know what you want?” You asked, and a look of determination painted his features as he met your gaze head on.

“For my entire life, I had never known what family meant, so I wasn’t even aware that I’d created my own with all of you until I’d risked it all. I was so sure I didn’t want to be like my parents that I never realised I may actually…want to be a parent someday. I was so sure I didn’t want to be my father that I never realised I actually did want to be a partner someday. I was so certain I’d never know what true love felt like that I didn’t even realise I had it right here all along with you.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up. I left. But what I don’t understand is why you did. Or why you stayed away.” He took a step towards you with his cigarette long forgotten in one of his hands, the ash threatening to burn his fingers before you plucked it and stubbed it out on the stone railing. He barely flinched. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t want to sit around and wait for you, Sirius. I- it hurt, I was hurt. And then-”

“I’m sorry.” He offered quickly, but you shook your head.

“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry, I just-”

“I came back for you.”

“But it wasn’t just about me anymore, Sirius!” You shouted then, and you watched his brows furrow before his face fell in horror.

“You’re seeing someone.” He asked, though he phrased it as more of a statement; like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Sirius.” You sighed.

“Then why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You blurted, and Sirius fell silent. “I’m almost six months pregnant.”

“Six-” He started, eyes falling to your stomach still hidden behind the baggy article of clothing before you smoothed the fabric over your ever rounding bump. “Six months. Six…”

You let him do the maths in the head as he stared hard at your stomach like he was sitting in divination and it was a crystal ball that might just give him the answers if only he stared at it long enough.

“It’s mine?” He finally concluded.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“It’s mine. You’re pregnant, it’s mine.” He murmured, before his eyes met yours again. “You’re pregnant with my child?”

“Right.” You agreed, and he crumpled to a heap on the floor.

“Sirius Orion Black,” Sirius heard Remus hiss, clearly hovering somewhere over him, “I swear to Godric if you do not wake up and eat some of this godsdamned vanilla cake you bought, your brother is going to skin you alive.”

“It’s true.” James agreed from somewhere on Sirius’ other side. “He actually ran to the store when he found out you bought vanilla because he knew Remus wouldn’t eat any of it. Remus is going to get his chocolate cake, and you’re going to get egged.”

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel, mate?” James asked rather jovially as he clapped him roughy on the shoulder.

“Like hell.”

“Why’s that?” Remus joined in.

“Because I was in the middle of a dream and you sods woke me up going on about cake.” He muttered as he opened his eyes, realising then that he’d been propped up on a number of cushions in one of Lily and James’ spare rooms.

“S’he awake?” Lily whispered, and Sirius craned his neck to see you and Lily poke your heads into the room.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed as he sat up, likely far too fast for someone who fell unconscious mere moments ago. “Oh my gods, you’re actually here?”

“Did you hit your head, mate?” James asked as he prodded at Sirius’ head, causing Sirius to swat his arms away as he shifted towards the edge of the bed.

“You’re here.” He whispered as you slowly made your way into the room.

“I’m here.” You offered cautiously, eyes darting around at your oldest friends like there might be some secret threat lurking in the room.

“You’re pregnant…” He tried then, punching the air right out of Lily and James who both spun to stare at you in shock.

You smoothed the fabric of your shirt over your midsection again to expose a very obvious (now that everyone could actually see it) baby bump.

“Oh my gods!” Lily and James chorused, causing Remus to snort.

“You knew, didn’t you!?” Lily accused Remus who held his hands up in surrender.

“Only when she walked in, and not a second sooner.”

“With my child.” Sirius continued, and you nodded at him.

“Y/N.” Lily winced. “You-”

“You sodding scared me!” You shrilled then, grabbing one of the throw pillows James had dumped onto the ground to make room for Sirius and swinging it at him.

“I scared you!?” Sirius shrieked right back, much to the delight of Harry who started banging on the throw pillow that had landed beside him.

“I thought I killed you!”

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry that finding out the woman I’ve been in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months - who was missing for all intents and purposes, may I remind you - is pregnant with my child happened to be a little shocking.” Sirius sneered sarcastically.

“Well I only went ‘missing’ because the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months took off an-” The abrupt end of your statement nearly gave the room whiplash as you cut yourself off mid sentence and stared at Sirius like you’d never seen him before.

“What…what just happened?” James whispered carefully.

“Years?” You whispered then, and Sirius hated every version of himself that deigned to let you go without knowing just how loved you were.

“Probably when we were still just cosmic dust.” Sirius smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t always realise, I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that you knew.”

“I take it to guess there isn’t an aunt in Killarney?” Lily offered then, smiling kindly at you when you turned your attention towards her.

“No, I- I think there actually is an aunt in Killarney, I just don’t live with her.”

“Where do you live?” Sirius asked eagerly, wondering if you could hear it in his voice or even see on his face just how desperate he was to know everything about you.

“Near Tintagel.” You offered abashedly as Remus slapped his hand on his thigh.

“You minx!” He scolded you. “You lived basically across the channel from me this whole time!”

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is” You offered him then, smiling through your tears as Sirius swallowed around his bile threatening its way up his oesophagus.

“I hope it’s nice.” Sirius blurted suddenly, and Sirius thanked the heavens for Remus John Lupin who seemed to understand that the conversation delved beyond the need of an audience, scooping Harry up and closing the door behind Lily, James, and himself to give you two some privacy.

“It’s nice.” You offered wetly. “It’s quiet.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement. “In Tintagel, near Merlin’s cave?”

You laughed, which saw Sirius smiling. “I’m not right in Tintagel, just outside. My neighbours are mostly sheep.”

“Does it have a picket fence?”

“To keep the sheep out of my garden.” You nodded with a smile.

“Flowers; lots of them.” Sirius deduced, you nodded again though Sirius watched your smile falter.

“You’d probably hate it.”

“Are you there?” He asked quickly.

“Well, usually, yes.” You offered, and Sirius shrugged easily.

“Sounds as though it might be my favourite place in the world, then.”

The next breath that left you shuddered on its way out, and Sirius finally stood and met you in the middle of the room; close enough to touch but not daring to. He hadn’t earned that right yet.

“Take me with you?” He all but begged then, and your face crumpled in misery.

“Sirius, I don’t want you to follow me because you have to, I-”

“I don’t have to though, I know I don’t; I know you’d never make me.” He assured you then, lifting a hand but pausing to wait for you to nod at him before he placed it on your upper arm. “The letters, Y/N, I- I’ve been looking for you for months.”

A sob tore through you as you lowered your head, and Sirius allowed himself to catch it in his free hand.

“I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m not telling you so that you feel bad, love.” The endearment falling off his tongue so easily now that he had you in his arms. “But I need you to know that I want you - any of you, all of you - and have for a very long time.”

“It’s just…you said-” and Sirius knew exactly what he said; he had played that conversation over and over and over in his mind until he found himself sick over it more than once. But we waited for you to tell him anyhow; he’d always wait for you. “You couldn’t settle down and be content, you couldn’t play house; you weren’t that kind of guy.”

“I know, doll. I know.” He whispered. “I…I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t think I deserved everything I wanted and I knew that you deserved better. That you deserve better.”

“But?”

“But I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you otherwise; trying to give you everything you deserve.”

“Sirius…” You sighed, and Sirius could see your walls cracking. “I…I’m-”

“Take me home? Please?” He begged then, words interrupted by a sob of his own. “To Tintagel, to Killarney, to bloody fucking Azkaban or the bottom of the sodding ocean, I don’t care where it is just as long as it’s with you, please. Please.”

Your hands landed on Sirius’ chest and he was sure you could feel his hummingbird heart beating under your fingertips. He only hoped you knew how it beat for you.

“Please bring me home?”

James didn’t know if he could consider this a success or not.

His motivation was not singular; it was a ‘hit two fairies with one gobstone’ sort of scenario, so to speak. Was his son turning two? Indeed he was! Was James throwing a party for said son’s birthday? You’re damned right he was. But was it also a really good excuse to force two of his idiot best friends into the same room again? Absolutely.

Except James seems to have gotten slightly more than he bargained for; Sirius falling unconscious in his childhood backyard, you sobbing into Lily’s shoulder out in the hallway as he and Remus tried to bring him back from the dead, Remus sneering at a slice of birthday cake like it personally offended him and Regulus threatening to defend his boyfriend’s honour, and - apparently - a new niece or nephew coming in the next three-ish months.

But when he looked over to see you and Sirius emerging from the spare room - both of your faces tear stained and puffy from the grief and torment you no doubt put yourselves through - hands intertwined between your bodies and your hand resting protectively over your growing bump, and a spark in Sirius’ eyes James had thought he lost in the war but now realised he only lost when he lost you…

…yeah, James figured he could probably consider this a success.

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