#i thought the thing only started this week?
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GHOST AS A DAD [ simon riley ]
part two
- Never wanted kids, he was so careful not to get you pregnant but with the amount you guys fuck, it was bound to happen.
- Youâre scared when you get that positive test⊠you cry out of fear that youâll have to get rid of the thing you had always wanted.
- It took you a week to gain the courage to tell him, you just left the pregnancy test on the kitchen table and left for work. You wanted to let him sit with it for a few hours.
- When you did return home, he sat on the sofa- elbows to knees looking down at the test. How long had he been like that?
- You waited for him to speak, while you shuffled around with that nauseous feeling bubbling in your stomach.
- It was late in the afternoon so you started chopping some vegetables for dinner, âIâll call the termination clinic in the morningâŠâ Your voice mulled over the slices weighing down on the wooden chopping board.
- Fingers crawled along your waistband as he rested against the sink. âNo. Youâre not.â You rested the knife down.
- âI thought you didnât want kidsâŠ?â Your eyes on the verge of tearing, looking back at him. Your cool, mysterious man⊠finding purchase in those deep dark eyes.
- His bare hands wrapped around you- resting under your shirt. âI canât put you through thaâ,â His light hair tickled while his chin rested on your shoulder, âYouâre the only person Iâd wanna do this with.â
- He was there for the first and second of your pregnancy. Simon held your hair back while you threw up almost every day and he rubbed your back.
- Simon is very careful when having sex with you, but he soon realised that you feel everything 10x as much. And your sex drive is through the roof, heâs never been so needy in his entire life⊠you were so desperate for him and he wanted you just as much.
- Simon gets deployed during your 7th month. He doesnât want to go⊠nearly refuses. Unfortunately he canât do that.
- Youâre stressed after he leaves. But his family takes care of you- he asked for them to.
- When he lands back on British soil, he immediately phones you. You pick up, and the cry of a baby is all he hears before he drops the phone and falls to his knees.
- Heâs crying, actually in tears. âIs Y/N alright, LT?â Of course Soap was the one to see him like that.
- Simon nods, laughing, âIâm a dadâŠâ
- Heâs never driven so fast in his life, and youâre there on the sofa he had been 8 months ago with that test in his hand. This time you cradle a little human in your arms, swaddled like a bundle.
- He drops to his knees once more, ripping his mask off. And your warmth covers him with the little sighs coming from the now awake baby.
- Simon fell in love. He didnât know if he was looking at a son or a daughter.
- You two didnât want to know the gender.
- âSimon Riley⊠meet your daughterâŠâ He melted again, face red and brown eyes bloodshot as he cradled the little one in his arms. Dotting into the identical eyes staring up at him.
- Thatâs when he held her close, head against his chest. âMy little princessâŠâ He hummed so gentle, rocking her slightly.
- He is so girl dad coded. Heâll be so sweet with her and sheâd always come to her dad if anything was wrong
- Your little girl would play with his masks all the time, it never annoyed him- only making him giggle. Telling her to stop so playfully and boyishly, that youâd never seen him so soft-hearted before.
- You most likely have at most two more children after your daughter- maybe one girl and a boy.
- Simon definitely teaches your children self defence from a young age. Safety was everything and he wasnât always around to protect them.
- Heâs there every award ceremony heâs on leave and is the most doting father ever.
- Your childrenâs friends are terrified of him, until they get him talking- then theyâre like âyour dadâs cool.â
Did you want a part 2 of this?
Part Two is posted!
âââ
masterlist
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#headcanon#cod smut#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#cod
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Title: Daytrip.
Pairing: Yandere!Illumi x Reader (Hunter x Hunter).
Word Count: 5.6k.
TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Prolonged Captivity, Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions of Animal Death, Semi-Public Sex, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Isolation, and Stalking.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was, per usual, Illumiâs face.
His dark eyes wide and unblinking, his skin bloodlessly pale, his lips pulled into a thin, neutral line â and all of it no more than three inches away. You were too numb to his off-putting proximity to scream, but you flinched back into your pillow on instinct, and Illumi took the hint, lingering for another half second longer before drawing back. A few months ago, you mightâve scrambled away, barricaded yourself in the smallest corner of your lavish bedroom, but now, you only rolled onto your side, regarding him with the same exhausted resignation that you used to pay to your cat, when she woke you up three hours early for no other reason than her own selfish desire not to spend the small hours of the morning alone.
âWhatâs up?â
It mightâve been a little too casual of a greeting for your kidnapper, but he didnât seem to mind. âThere are clothes waiting for you on your vanity. The butlers will help you dress as soon as possible.â
 So this was going to be an out-of-bed thing, after all. Reluctantly, you started pushing yourself up. âAre we in a hurry for a reason, orâŠ?â
There was a brief moment of consideration, then a resolute nod from Illumi. You let out an inward sigh. âOkay, whatever, thatâs my fault. Why are we in a rush, âlumi?â
âI have something planned for the two of us.â If you hadnât known better, you mightâve thought you saw his expression light up. âA daytrip, I believe.â And then, as if as an afterthought, âIâm very excited.â
Illumiâs excitement was normally something you tried to avoid, but your mind seemed to glaze over that and settle on the word âdaytripâ instead. Daytrips meant traveling. Daytrips meant activities.
Most pressingly, daytrips meant getting to leave the empty, lifeless, murderer-infested wasteland that was his familyâs estate for the first time since he carried you through its gates. You knew better than to say that in as many words, though.
âAnd for this daytrip, weâll be goingâŠâ You trailed off, gesturing in the direction you felt most strongly would lead back to civilization. ââŠout there?â
âWeâll be leaving the mountain, yes.â
âAnd weâll be going place where other people are?â
âI suppose so, if it canât be avoided.â
âAnd your family wasnât involved with this at all?â
âThey donât think itâs right for you to be given so much freedom so quickly,â he explained. âI disagree. Even well-trained dogs have to be walked.â
For the first time ever, you had to resist the urge to kiss him.
Instead, you only let yourself smile, casting your sheets aside and settling for a brief but bone-crushing hug. âThank you thank you thank you!â You pulled away abruptly, sliding off of the mattress. âIâIâll get dressed!â
Illumi didnât move, didnât react, but his eyes followed you as you stumbled across the room â happier than youâd been in months.
~
A little less than an hour later, you were spread across Illumiâs lap in the back of a surprisingly conspicuous black car, the divider raised to block a faceless driver from view. It took a concerted amount of effort to keep your attention on anything but the window, but you managed, only sparing the occasional glance towards the passing scenery.
You watched the mountainside spiral downward as Illumiâs hands settled around your waist, measuring the widening gaps between dense patches of forestry as his mouth ghosted over the side of your neck. Itâd always surprised you â how tactile he was, how someone so cold could be so fond of peppering feather-light kisses into your collarbones and groping at your thighs. Itâd been weeks since the last time you tried to brush off his affection. As far as you were concerned, there were worse things he could do to you than mimic the behavior of a more conventional boyfriend.
(At some point, youâd come to think of Illumi as the unclimbable, unmovable, twenty-foot-tall wall that separated you from freedom. You didnât like him, sure, but you had to recognize that on your own, you had no chance of getting past, over, or around him. If something happened to render him a little weaker, a little less tall, a little more susceptible to opening his gates, then things might change, but you couldnât rely on elusive possibilities. The way you saw it, you could either waste your time trying to overcome an insurmountable obstacle, or you could save your energy and try to make things as pleasant on this side of the wall as was humanly possible, given your below-standard working conditions. Until you met someone willing to offer you a ladder, at least.)
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and your eyes flitted back to the window. You were passing buildings, now â houses and apartments, people dotted in front of them blurred mannequins. âCan you tell me where weâre going, or am I not supposed to know?â
He seemed to think for a second, but answered quickly enough. âBrunch, first,â he said, not bothering to pull away from you. âThe rest is a surprise.â
You pursed your lips. You used to like surprises, but Illumi had managed to change a lot of things about you. âIs âthe restâ something Iâll like?â
 âItâs something youâve been known to enjoy.â
It took everything you had not to roll your eyes. Youâd been âknown to enjoyâ a lot of things, most of which Illumi had taken away from you.
There was one more open-mouthed kiss pressed into your collarbone, one more stolen glance of the outside world, and then, the vehicle was easing to a steady halt in front of a rustic, almost quaint building. A café, you realized, as Illumi stepped out in front of you, holding the door open while you stared wide-eyed at the perfectly idyllic, perfectly normal restaurant. The cute type, with a triangular roof and a greenery-laden front porch and chipped paint on either side of the front door.
Subconsciously, some part of you mustâve decided that youâd never see anything more charming or more homey than the lifeless grounds of Illumiâs estate again. You opted not to linger on that, as you stepped out of the car.
The interior was similarly fairytale-esque. There werenât any other customers or wait-staff, which youâd expected, but string lights hung from the rafters, fresh wildflowers sitting in pitchers on each table. Illumi let you choose where to sit, and you shot for a spot closest to the front windows â bay-style and freshly cleaned, the kind of thing you mightâve stared longingly out of while nursing an overpriced latte for the better part of an hour. Suit-clad butlers stood guard on either side of the door, but if you were lucky, youâd still be able to catch the occasional pedestrian walking by. You wouldâve given anything to sit in a room filled to bursting with other people, but since you couldnât have that, youâd settle for being able to watch a handful from a distance.
âYouâre staring.â
ïżœïżœSo?â You responded to Illumi without looking away. âYou stare at me all the time.â
âThatâs different. I have a reason to look at you.â
âWhich is?â
âI love you.â
It mightâve been easier to believe if he hadnât said it with all the warmth and all the affection of a corpse, already given time to cool.
You changed the topic swiftly.
âItâs a little nostalgic, honestly. I used to come to places like this all the time, especially before I made any friends in the city. It was nice to feel lonely in a aloof-and-mysterious kind of way, instead of an anti-social-and-depressed sort of way.â
âOh, you were never really alone.â You didnât say anything, but you made the mistake of shifting your gaze onto him, of spurring him forward with the reward of your attention. âIt was a guilty pleasure of mine â spending time with you before we met. I preferred it when you sat outside. It was easier to smell your perfume, in the open air.â
You grit your teeth. It wasnât the most disturbing thing heâd ever admitted, but it definitely made the list. ââŠI think I wouldâve remembered sitting next to someone like you.â
If heâd been more expressive, you couldâve imagined him smirking. âYou would think so, wouldnât you?â
There was a brief lapse, a moment of uncertainty on your part. Finally, you asked, âDid I smell⊠nice?â
âVery.â Illumi didnât share your sense of trepidation. âLike cinnamon.â
You hummed, and as if by magic, a waitress appeared from the door to an unseen kitchen â white knuckling her pen with one hand and driving her nails into her notepad with the other. She took your orders with a terrified sort of professionalism, and before you left, you convinced Illumi to give you all the cash he was carrying at the moment (a sum that easily added up to half a yearâs worth of rent, handed over without so much as a passing question) and left it on the table for her to find.
~
Your second stop was as surprising as Illumi had promised. If anything, heâd undersold it.
If the quaintness of the cafĂ© had been enough to throw you into a stupor, then the sheer scale of the building in front of you couldâve sent you to an early grave. A mall â a nice mall, either recently built or nestled so far into the upper-class shopping district that you never wouldâve come across it organically, the type with glass where there shouldâve been walls and a fountain without any coins at the bottom. You were tempted to try and pester loose change off of one of the butlers flanking you, but decided against it. The cafĂ©, you couldâve stumbled into on your own, without Illumiâs intervention. It just didnât feel right to leave a mark where you so obviously didnât belong.
More similarly to the cafĂ©, though, the inside of the shopping complex was startlingly empty. Butlers and hired security were posed in front of exits, but other than that, it wasnât hard to believe that you and Illumi were the only people on the property. As soon as you were past the initial entryway, you ducked into the closest store â a high-end cosmetics retailer. The door was unlocked, but there was no cashier at the register. Like someone had already come through and cleared it out.
âThis is some backrooms shit,â you mumbled to yourself, and then, to Illumi, ever-hovering just over your shoulder. âYou didnât⊠you know, do what you normally do to people you donât like, right?â
âAre you asking me if I killed everyone in this shopping complex prior to our arrival?â
âWell, not everyone,â you clarified. âMaybe just the employees?â
He didnât laugh, but the corner of his mouth turned ever-so-slightly upward, as if youâd said something funny. âNo, that wouldâve taken far too much time.â The unnecessary loss of life went unacknowledged. âThe buildingâs rented out, and the stockâs been purchased in advance. Youâre only deciding what youâd like to keep.â
Huh.
One day, you were going to sit him down and have a long, long talk about class privilege and resource waste. If you were feeling generous, you might even throw generational wealth onto the lecture, just to make sure he got the full picture.
One day, but not today.
âThe third floor always has the best stores,â you said, turning on your heel and grabbing Illumiâs hand, too distracted to think anything of the gesture. âLetâs start there.â
You weaved in and out of stores with reckless abandon, hyper-aware that you had no oneâs time to waste but your own. Essentials were overlooked entirely, makeup and self-care supplies limited to eyeshadow pallets with no less than several dozen eye bleeding colors and bath-bombs that were more glitter than pigment, and clothes made up the bulk of your adoration. Everything that wasnât in your size had already been removed â something as worrying as it was convenient. The only thing you refused to try on was loungewear. It wouldâve been practical, sure, but you didnât need to be reminded that this was likely the last time youâd ever leave Illumiâs sprawling home.
âYou know,â you called from a dressing room, pulling a gingham dress over your head. You couldnât see Illumi, but you were sure he wasnât far. He didnât seem to have much of an interest in shopping, but his favorite hobby was looming over your shoulder like some blank-eyed, haphazardly domesticated bird of prey, so it balanced out. âIf this had been our first date, I probably wouldâve married you.
You heard him hum as a weight settled against the dressing room door. âI enjoyed our first date. It was endearing â how long you rested your head in my lap.â
âWell, yeah. The paralytics you used were so strong, I couldnât move for three days.â Youâd still lose feeling in your left arm, if you held it at the wrong angle. It reminded you a little of your cat, after she first came around to the idea of sitting in your lap. Youâd been so afraid of scaring her off, youâd let your legs fall asleep before you so much as thought about moving her. âI just meant that the whole âkidnappingâ thing probably wouldnât have been necessary, yâknow? I wasnât exactly in a place to be picky when it came to creepy rich men.â
There was a brief lapse of silence, and you finally managed to drag the bodice of the dress into place. âI never considered that.â
It shouldnât have surprised you to hear that Illumi wasnât the dating type, and yet, you let out a breath of a laugh. âYou never thought about asking me out? Not even once?â
ââŠno, I didnât.â If you hadnât known better, you wouldâve thought he sounded shy. âIt was hard to be practical. I was distracted. You were perfect, and contained, and I thought touching you would beââ For the first time, his voice seemed to dip, to grow just a little quieter. ââvulgar. It wouldâve changed you, to know I was there.â
The skirt was layered, and you bit back the urge to curse as you smoothed over the layers of cotton and lace. âI think being abducted mightâve changed me, too.â
âIt was the better option. Something wouldâve fallen out of place eventually, but like this, I could save you. Only your environment had to be altered.â
He made it sound like heâd sealed you behind glass, rather than underneath a mansion occupied by the worldâs most dangerous killers. Youâd known better than to hope heâd be able to come up with a selfless reason for your prolonged captivity, but still. Hearing that you were miserable because he needed a ballerina to decorate his music box with stung more than you wouldâve liked to admit.
ââŠitâs unlocked. You can come in, if you want.â Immediately, you heard the dressing room door creak open, and turned your attention towards your reflection. Out of the countless youâd tried on, there was a reason youâd saved this dress for last. You used to fantasize about being able to afford something so wonderfully needless, something you wouldnât have had to justify with things as joyless as âfunctionâ and âpracticalityâ. Even now, the puffiness of the sleeves and the lace detailing around the collar and the tiny, almost impossible-to-see hearts printed onto the checked pattern felt exorbitant â borderline garish. You still didnât have any reason to wear it, any place you couldâve gone to show it off, but then again, you didnât have much of a reason to do much of anything when you were with Illumi. You guessed, in a roundabout kind of way, that meant you got to do whatever you wanted to.
Illumi came to stand behind you, and you leaned back, kissing his cheek gingerly. âIâll add it to the pile. Thanks for this, âlumi.â
His hands found their way to your hips, settling there as he rested his chin on your shoulder. âKeep it on. It suits you.â
You tried to laugh, but fell short â your smile falling into something more strained. You really shouldnât have said anything, but you were talking before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of it. âThe cinnamon,â you started, speaking against the dryness in your throat. âWhen I first moved to the city, the only apartment I could afford was flat above a bakery. The ventilation was awful, and the landlord was impossible to get a hold of, and everything I owned smelled like sugar and cinnamon and bread. I couldnât touch anything sweet for months, after I moved out.â
It was all you could do to bite down on your tongue and force yourself to stop, to shut up, to remember who you were talking to. Illumiâs response was less dramatic â as instantaneous as it was muted.
âHow fitting,â he said, with a chime of a laugh. âSweet things belong in sweet places.â
âŠ
You could only be mad at yourself, really. What else were expecting? It wasnât like he was going to get down on his knees and apologize, for fuckâs sake.
You sighed, melting into Illumiâs chest. Of course, he welcomed you with open arms.
~
You didnât end up keeping any other dresses. A few other articles of clothing, a couple pairs of shoes, a small fortuneâs worth of little luxuries thatâd help you pass the time when you were returned, kicking and screaming, to solitary confinement, but no dresses. Well, aside from the one you were wearing, of course.
It wasnât long before Illumi started gently ushering you to the nearest exit, and already thoroughly defeated, you didnât try to resist. You only got distracted once on your way out, and not for very long. Illumi made sure of that.
It was kiosk-type stand â the glass cabinets filled with high-end pet toys and animal-themed tchotchkes. You couldnât stop yourself, gasping as you broke away from Illumi and darted to the first thing that caught your eye: a bright pink collar with silver spikes, adorable and clichĂ© and so, so cute. It was clearly meant for a dog, but it couldâve fit a cat. Or, you probably wouldâve tried to make it fit a cat, rather. Â
Illumi appeared at your side, as always, and you started talking without looking up. âIâm sorry, I know weâre in a rush, but it justââ You paused, trying and failing to bite back a smile. âI had this cat before you took me â her name was Ghost. She used to be the neighborhood stray, but she was getting pretty old, and I think other cats were picking on her. Eventually, I just started letting her in, and after a while, she stopped leaving. She wouldâve hated something like this.â You held up the collar, gesturing dismissively before forcing yourself to set it back down. âShe never really liked me. Whoever took her in shouldnât have had too much trouble winning her over, after I disappeared.â
âGhost,â he repeated. âWas she a black cat?â
âYeah, thatâs where her name came from. I couldnât see her at all at night, and she could knock over anything that wasnât nailed down. It was like living with a poltergeist.â
âSheâs dead.â
You felt something small and vital tear open and start to bleed. ââŠexcuse me?â
âYou two were quite close. Had she been given the time, she wouldâve woken you up the night I came to get you. I didnât want that.â It took an embarrassing amount of time for you to make the connection, to form the link, to realize why the pain in your chest was quickly becoming so unbearable. âWe can get another, if youâre upset. As a couple.â
The shock was numb, if there was any shock to be had at all. âItâs fine,â you managed, eventually, and despite the strain behind your voice, Illumi didnât argue.
Instead, he glanced towards the nearest glass wall, to where the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon. âWe should go.â
âI didnât realize we were on a schedule.â
âYou werenât supposed to. I told you earlier â the last stop is a surprise.â This time, he was the one to take your hand, squeezing gently as he laced his fingers with yours.
It mightâve been a nice gesture, if his touch hadnât been cold enough to burn.
~
You werenât really sure what the third and final stop was supposed to be, at first.
An old sort of a dream knotted and coiled in your chest as his driver ferried you out of the city, metropolis shuttering into mountain backwoods. Youâd never really been afraid of Illumi killing you (not when there were so many things that were so, so much worse than death), but as the car eased to a stop on the side of single-lane road, it was hard to imagine why else he wouldâve taken you so far from the nearest scrap of civilization, another reason for him to wear such a bright expression as he ushered you outside - the most impatient heâd been all day. It wasnât until you saw the trailhead â unmarked save for a wooden post and break in the foliage â that you started to relax.
âOh,â you mumbled, your relief audible. âIâm not really dressed for hiking, âlumi.â
âIt isnât far.â And then, taking your hand in his, âI can carry you.â
It sounded more like a matter-of-fact statement than an offer, but you shook your head, edging forward. He was right, in the end. It couldnât have been more than half a mile of level ground, Illumi holding your hand all the while. It wasnât like you werenât allowed outside on Illumiâs estate, but you spent so much time in the woods that surrounded his mansion and his motherâs gardens â it wouldâve been impossible not to go numb to the absence of bird song, the treacherous slope of his mountain, how little sunlight managed to break through the dense canopy of tangled branches and leaves that seemed to lie a little closer to black than green. It was nice to be somewhere else, somewhere with humming insects and a gentleness to the landscape and just enough dappled sunlight to make you forget who you were with. You kept your head on a swivel, quietly eager to soak in as much of it as you could. If you were lucky, youâd actually get to see some life â a deer, or a wildcat, orâ
Something caught in your throat, and your head lulled forward, eyes dropping to your feet. You stared at the ground for the rest of the walk.
Your destination was, similarly, storybook levels of idyllic. The forest thinned and fell away entirely, breaking into a lake that stretched on as far as the eye could see and glittered pink in the light of the setting sun. Stretched over the lakeâs shore was a blanket piled with platters of chocolate-covered fruit, breads and cheese, bottles of wine with a matching pair of glasses for each option â everything you mightâve once drunkenly listed off to a friend while fantasizing about your perfect, fairytale date. You glanced around you, looking for the butlers who mustâve only just finished setting up, but Illumi was quick to call your attention back to him. You felt him let go of your hand, your body shift before you could process why you were moving, and then, you were no longer on the ground; one of Illumiâs arms hooked under your knees and the other behind your back, your side pulled against his chest in an effortless bridal carry. You made a passing attempt to squirm, but Illumi didnât seem to mind â keeping you tucked against him as he made his way to the only unoccupied corner of the blanket and all-but dropped to the ground, leaving you splayed across his lap and safely caged within his arms. Â It was hard to tell if he was trying to be romantic in his own, blank, heartless sort of way, or if heâd simply decided you werenât moving quickly enough. For your own sake, you leaned towards the former.
âItâs awful,â you muttered, and then, correcting yourself, âNot the picnic, I mean â thatâs perfect. Itâs just, I can never tell what youâre thinking.â
He seemed to consider that, for a moment. A chocolate-covered strawberry was plucked out of the nearest bowl and held to your lips, and to appease him, you bit into it. Your throat still felt too knotted for you to actually enjoy eating, but it was good to keep Illumi happy. âMost of the time, I think about you,â he admitted, any hint of shame absent from his voice. âItâs an issue. It doesnât affect my work, but itâll start to if left unchecked.â
He thought about you while cutting down innocent civilians. Great. âAnd youâre not going to fix that by drowning me in a lake, right?â
âNo, Iâm not.â Like your question, his answer was too sincere for comfort. The way his free hand toyed with the hem of your skirt did little to ease your nerves, either. âIâve tried keeping an amount of distance between you and I, but that hasnât yielded much progress either.â
If heâd ever tried to keep himself away from you, you hadnât been able to tell. His hand slipped under your skirt properly, and you twisted, reaching for the neared wine bottle. âThereâs so much food here, we should reallyââ
âIt can wait.â
It was awful, just how even his voice was. For the first time, you were tempted to give him a reason to raise it.
Youâd never resisted Illumi, but heâd never tried toâtried to do this, either. Thereâd always been an unspoken barrier when it came to sex â your resounding horror shadowed comfortable within his apparent disinterest. Now, though, he didnât seem very disinterested, and your lingering terror was brushed neatly to the side as his fingers grazed over your thighs, your hip, before slipping underneath the thin, silken fabric. You wanted to thrash, to bolt, but you were suddenly unable to move; paralyzed save for the reflex to clench your legs shut and sink that much deeper into Illumiâs chest. The former was undone with only as much effort as it took him to ease your thighs apart with his knee, though, and the latter only seemed to bring a soft smile to his lips â just barely prominent enough to feel as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. If youâd been in your right mind, you mightâve thought to look for his butlers, to worry about passing hikers or concerned locals he wouldnât think not to hurt, but Illumi had done his job well. It was impossible not to consider yourself wholly and entirely alone in the world, when you were with him.
He was less clinical than you wouldâve expected. Illumi did most things with surgical precision, but touching you seemed to call for a more experimental skillset. His chin came to rest on your shoulder as his long fingers spread and explored underneath your panties, the tautness of the fabric ensuring that he always moved against you, rather than over or around. Undressing you never seemed to cross his mind; instead, his attention was trained on dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit, on using his ring and middle fingers to trace the slit of your cunt. You werenât turned on â who could be, with their stoic kidnapper fondling them like a child learning to handle their first doll? â but your body and your mind were on two different tracks, one eager to make the best of a bad situation and the other too distraught to stop it. It wasnât long before you could feel yourself dripping around him, your arousal adding a damp heat to your already claustrophobic point of connection. Illumi hummed. âYouâre sensitive.â
You opened your mouth, but anything you mightâve said was drowned out by a hitched gasp as he thrust two digits inside of you with a wet click. âTight, too,â he muttered, almost absentmindedly, immediately falling into a pattern of pumping and scissoring; spreading you open and pulling back only to fuck his fingers that much deeper. When he paused, it was only to curl against something particularly sensitive inside of you, to leave you shrinking that much further into his chest. âIs this uncomfortable?â
The practicality of the question caught you off-guard. You couldnât call it considerate, but it was more than youâd expected, more than you ever wouldâve hoped for. Unable to speak, you nodded furiously, and Illumi clicked his tongue. âYouâll be alright,â And then, slightly softer, âIt couldnât be any worse than what I had to deal with, waiting for you.â
There was no bitterness, no remorse, no pity; just Illumiâs cold rationality and the feeling of his palm grinding into your clit. The only warmth you could feel was the ghost of his breath on the side of your throat, the dip of your shoulder â not quite panting, but a world apart from his usual absence of expression. You tried to steel yourself, to think about anything aside from Illumiâs presence where it draped across you like a funeral shroud, but itâd been months since the last time you so much as thought about touching yourself, and for all his apathy, you could feel heat pooling in your core and recognize that your attempts to stave off the inevitable were only prolonging the insufferable. Still, it wouldâve been impossible not to try and choke back your whimpers as that heat brewed and solidified into something more tense, something more breakable; as Illumiâs cheek pressed into the curve of your neck and his fingers curled against something soft and unprotected inside of you. Your climax was drawn out of you slowly, painfully, with a ragged whine in place of a moan. You kept your face buried in Illumiâs chest, your hands balled around the bodice of your dress. It felt like an eternity passed before it was over, before Illumiâs hand drew back, but no relief accompanied the distance.
You couldnât even bring yourself to hate Illumi for it, not really. You couldnât bring yourself to feel much of anything. The only thing you could think, as hard as you tried not to think at all, was that you missed your dead cat.
It was pathetic, honestly. A sob tore past your lips as he pulled you away from his chest and lowered you onto your back, tears burning twin tracks down your face. You couldnât remember the last time heâd made you cry, and this shouldnât have been your tipping point â not Ghost, not your awful shoebox apartment, not the fact that you could hear fabric tearing as he pulled your dress apart, too impatient to so much as consider a less destructive solution. You were in hysterics by the time he glanced up, the faintest possible frown coaxing the corners of his lips downward. âYouâre crying.â And then, when your only response was another jagged cry, âWhy?â
You opened your mouth, but only managed to force out another incoherent sob. Illumi softened, leaning over you, his dark hair forming a curtain that seemed to replace the rest of the world with unending void. Eventually, you managed to scrap up the only thing you could, even if it wasnât what you really meant. âIâI want to go home, Illumi.â
He cocked his head to the side, staring down at you with a sort of blank focus. A moment passed, then another, before his expression brightened. âOh.â
He leaned down, and you felt his lips brush over your forehead. His smile bit into your skin like a blade.
âWe will, love.â He pulled back. You heard fabric shift, felt something hot and terrible slot against your cunt. âJust not yet.â
 You moved to respond, but gave up quickly. His mouth crashed into yours as he thrust into you and your blood ran cold.
~
Later on, in the dark, things became bearable again. Illumi was cruel, psychotic, delusional, but he was dutiful, too, and with the most beautiful dress youâd ever seen reduced to scraps, he wrapped you in his jacket and gathered you in his arms. The picnic was untouched, the breath-taking view painted over by night. None of it mattered, of course. You were too exhausted to keep your eyes open, and a bottomless pit occupied the space your stomach used to. You wouldnât mind going the rest of your life without taking anything of the filthy, unfeeling outside world inside of you ever again, but you knew better than to swear off eating because of Illumi. Or, at least, you hoped youâd know better in the morning.
You were only half-conscious of him pulling you against his chest and starting back into the forest, following the same path you had an eternity ago. It was a stupid question, but you found yourself asking anyway, your voice low and hoarse. âAre we⊠Are we going somewhere?â
âOf course.â Illumi bowed his head, kissing the top of yours. âWeâre going home.â
He didnât know he was lying, but he was. He mightâve been, but you werenât.
Slowly and with no small amount of effort, you managed to nod, slumping against his chest. No sooner had you went slack in his arms than the final tether to consciousness thinned and fell away, leaving you to be consumed by the darkness.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere hunter x hunter#hunter x hunter#hunter x hunter imagines#yandere hxh#hxh x reader#hxh imagines#yandere illumi#illumi x reader#yandere illumi zoldyck#illumi zoldyck x reader
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SEVIKA X CAMGIRL!READER !!
finally convincing your girlfriend to join you on your stream you realize later on how much of a mistake that was..
a/n â i didnât like how this turned out but enjoy ïżœïżœïž it has usage of strap on, overstimulation, and kind of in public because your being recorded
three times a week you stream videos for your viewers in the office of the apartment you and sevika share, wearing the most gorgeous and revealing lingerie as always. just a one hour show gaining you about 200 bucks to just do stuff you and your girlfriend do every night for some randos. when you started dating her you had only just started to test the waters of cam shows and hadnât gone all in yet, so when you told her about your recent hobby she was surprisingly not against it at all. in fact itâs how the two of you started to explore your sexual relationship with each other, trying out stuff you never thought you would do, but being comfortable with anyway because it was just the two of you. eventually you grew into the routine of your streams and wanted sevika to join you, always whining and pouting about wanting her to play with you but she would always decline, saying it was a nuisance.
however when you asked her to at least watch you she said yes, the show lasting a whopping 20 minutes before she told you to turn it off just so she could have her way with you, messing up all your pretty clothes and leaving you with tears in your eyes. you told sevika how you really wanted her to join you, pleading and letting her do anything she wanted to just so that she would agree. and she actually gave in after a couple of weeks of begging as she usually does because she could never resist when it comes to you, talking over it with her and making sure she 100% was okay with it. the two of you decided to do it next week when she came home from work and you would have a new set of lingerie coming in from the mail, courtesy of sevika as per usual!
when the day came you were nervous for some reason when you were putting together your set up, this routine had became normal to you but now that your girlfriend was joining you - your nerves were on 10. and it wasnât a bad nervous feeling, no you just know what things people suggest to you in your chatbox and you just know how it might make your girlfriend a bit dramatic and jealous. you hear the front door close and your stream is about to start in 15 minutes, giving you enough time to gather yourself. walking out of the office you greet your girlfriend with open arms to give her a hug, âhi baby.â sevika says, kissing your forehead as the two of you rock together side to side at the doorway. âmissed you seviâ nodding into her chest you feel a wave of relief rushing through you when your in her arms and all your nerves come down as you take in her scent.
you guys get started in the room, the stream starting as soon as you hit the red button, you look to sevika to see her leaning back on the desk, watching you set up. âgo on.â she mouths to you as she puts out the cigarette she had, taking a gulp you turn on your camera to face you, your viewers flooding in going from 10 to 100 in mere minutes.
you greet them as you always do, of course added with the introduction of your special guest. âon tonights show we do have a special guest so get ready..â turning around you motion for sevika to come closer, walking up to the camera with that sway in her hips as she arrives on the screen.
telling your audience all about your girlfriend and what to expect for the stream, âdonât forget to hit the like button and enjoy the show!â you say as you look back to sevika, seeing her sat in the chair of the vanity that your camera is placed on as she watches you, âcâmere and sit down.â she says and you immediately walk to her with a smile, climbing onto her lap. making yourself comfortable while you hold her face seeing how cute she looks looking up at you, examining your face as she always does until you lower your lips to hers, kissing her so deeply and passionately. your girlfriend raises her arms to your ass as she breaths into the kiss, its always crazy how just a quick make out session could make you soaked and needy for her. and in this moment is when sevika realizes why she declined so many times when you asked her to join the stream, it was just the thoughtless âno.â each time but now she knew why.
she didnât want to share this side of you with anyone, she didnât want everyone to see how dumb she would make you by only shoving her tongue down your throat. the pathetic pretty sight of you that only she could make you experience was only for her eyes, deciding to make this quick even if it would end with tears. sevika still had her hands gripping the globes of your ass tightly as the puddle in your panties kept getting damper, moans coming from you as you moved on to your girlfriends neck. sucking and making bite marks all over her while sevika looked at the chatbox, people commenting âthatâs so hot..â and other lustful thoughts while they watched you did much more than tick sevika off, making her scrunch her face in annoyance. sevika switches back to you taking your jaw in her hands gently, âlets go to the bed yeah?â making you nod your head while you get up from her lap to prop the camera next to the bed. crawling onto the comforter you face sevika at the end of it, lifting your chin up for a kiss as she slides down her boxers to reveal her strap underneath. it was a black dildo that was about 7 inches long with some girth around it, it was always a struggle to take all of it but sevika makes sure all of it fits every time. âget it nice and wet for me like you always do babyâ following you with her eyes as you lower your head down, taking the silicon in your hands as you put it to your mouth giving it kisses at the tip.
taking the whole thing into your mouth stretches your jaw open, sevika bucking her hips forward a bit to force it down your throat a bit more, it makes you gag. gripping at your girlfriends thighs as you suck her dick, tears already trickling from your eyes when the rubber reaches as far as it can in your mouth, taking a bit more than half of it. âthere you go baby, just like that.. my pretty girl.â that last part is said while she holds your jaw up to face her, your mouth still filled with her dick inside as she slides it out. by this point you have already long forgotten about your stream, which had previously never ever happened to you before, you were always in control when it came to your streams but sevikas presence in itself is enough to cloud your judgement.
thatâs how you know end up laying on your back as you grip and pull at the sheets your currently laying on, with sevikas dick pushing deeper and deeper into your cunt. moans overflowing from your mouth as your stomach tenses,your hips rocking back and forth with your girlfriends large hands holding them harshly. your in missionary position and your lingerie is long goneâ facing her but avoiding her piercing eyes by squeezing them shut, a series of pleads coming from your mouth. âhngh vika sâtoo much!â her name falling out your mouth so easily brings a smile to sevikas face every time face. âsuch a fucking crybaby, relax..â you donât know how she can tell you to relax when sheâs thrusting into you so hard, hitting that same spot repeatedly that she knows makes you go crazy. moving her hand from your hips sevika brings her fingers to your neglected clit, circling the bud crudely when your hands fly to your mouth.
itâs way too much for you and sevika knows that but itâs what makes it all the more fun for her to watch, seeing you struggle and cry because of her hands on you like this. âdonât cover your mouth, let em hear you câmonâ she says pulling your hands from your mouth, tears welling from your eyes as she holds your hands to her stomach with one hand. âknow how much i like to hear that pretty voice..â still rubbing at your bud you feel yourself cumming, your face scrunching up and your chest heaving up and down. âmâcumming sev please..â pleading for her to help you get there, sevika rocks into you deeper as your hips flow together. your so soaked that your cunt can be heard loud and clear on the camera, a harsh plap-plap-plap echoing in the room even though the camera is more than a few feet away from the bed, you canât even imagine what the people in the chat are saying and you honestly couldnât care at the moment.
you are too focused on how good sevikas making you feel and it almost makes you forget how to breathe but sevika can just tell how close you were. âyeah you gonna cum for us sweet girl? you love it when im deep inside you like this huh..â she says looking at the camera, turning back to see you nodding your head as your eyes go half lidded, feeling the coil in your stomach snapping with the help of sevikas words. legs quivering on her shoulders you coat the black silicon in your slick, a white ring covering the base. you twitch as your back arches off the bed, sevika watching you with praiseful eyes, if she wasnât so focused on getting her baby to cum she probably would have came herself.
but sheâs âkindâ enough to let you catch your breath for a couple of seconds before sliding her dick out of your messy pussy, a uttering cry pulled from your throat as you instinctively close your legs from the loss. she pulls your legs to the edge of the bed as she kneels down on the floor, âopen your legs.â is said with a impatient tone, waiting for you to defer to what she told you. âmm sevi I canât! already came just now, I need a break..â instantly feeling your cheeks get hotter as you watch sevikas face, a stare you donât get too often but when you do, you know that your doing something your not supposed to be doing. âyou know im not gonna repeat myself baby..â a quiet whimper coming from you as you do as your told, shyly opening your legs for your girlfriend. she holds your thighs down to your stomach, they already ache and she hadnât even begun to torture you yet.
lowering her head down, sevika laps at your soaked cunt, slurping and licking up stripes to your clit. you canât even attempt to keep your moans to yourself, gripping at the sheets below you as you cryâs fill the room, your babbling to her about how itâs too much while your legs quiver and hesitate to close on sevikas head. âso fucking wet..this is all for me huh baby?â she says as she thrust her fingers into your hole, already soaked from the strap that was deep inside you just moments ago. leaving you panting as she holds your thighs down to the bed, licking up all your slick as if she hadnât eaten for days, the sight alone was more than enough to make you overwhelmed as you feel yourself cumming again. âvika, vika sevika- please mâcumming again!â you hiccup, gripping at the dark brunettes hair, uncontrollably grinding your messy cunt against sevikas face trying to chase that sweet relief. she rolls her tongue against your clit while leaving trails of praise every time she comes up to kiss at your thigh or look at you, with her focus fixated completely on you as your legs shake around her head, squeezing your teary eyes shut with a cry. âtaste so sweet..â is whispered as sevika gets up from in between your legs to give you a kiss on your forehead, âdid so good for me baby.â you hear from her, walking over to your camera set up. in the midst of all this you completely forgot you were even filming, your head way up in the clouds of pleasure and you were completely embarrassed. you watch as she grumbles to the camera and signs off of it, walking back to you with a smile. sitting on the edge of the bed with her hand cupping your face while her thumb rubs across the soft flesh of your cheek, âdo you usually make 1k everytime you stream? I didnât know I was missing out on miss celebrity over here.â she says with a chuckle and your just laying there with shocked eyes, you never made that amount of money before for a show, in fact you just barely started to make 200. âand I love you baby but im never doing this again.â your girlfriend says with her stern tone as usual ending with a kiss on your forehead, nodding to her, you knew you were definitely gonna make her do this again.
#sevika x reader <3#sevika x reader#sevika smut#sevika arcane#sevika#I didnât know how to end this tbh#ok so this is buns but I wanted to get smth out while I work on the logan plinks and my requests đđđ#bear with me#arcane
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taste me too
Satoru Gojo x reader. fluff. domestic satoru. teeny weeny bit of angst
Ever since you started dating Satoru, you have never felt that tinge of loneliness you use to feel. Not that you minded being alone. It was peaceful.
You used to go watch a movie in the cinema alone. Eat at that new restaurant with a table for one. Have cozy nights in with homemade face masks and belting out to your favorite singer of the week, self care and whatnot. In your opinion, why miss out on the things you want to do just because youâre on your own?
But now, you look to the side and thereâs another hand in your popcorn basket, just as giddy for the Barbie movie. You look down at your plate and you see your steak already sliced for your convenience under the romantically lit restaurant. The man in front of you with bright blue eyes, gazing at you so endearingly with a goofy grin on his face as he listened to you babble about your day. And lastly, it wasnât just you belting out on your hairbrush with a matcha green face mask on his face and a headband pulling back his snowy white hair.
Maybe you didnât mind being alone, but with Satoru sitting on top of the toilet seat as he gazes up at you almost reverent like - silently waiting for his turn to try out the new lip balm you bought for the cold winter months-always wanting to be included, your eyes burn.
âToru, stop staring.â
He pouts, âIâm just waiting for you to be done.â
You roll your eyes affectionately before you continue swiping the new balm on your dry lips, it smells like strawberry. Satisfied, you smack your lips together with a grin. Lips now soft and moisturized. âWow! its really nice and doesnât feel sticky.â
You turn to Satoru to hand him the lipbalm. To your surprise, he was already standing up, looking at you expectantly. âMy turn, my turn!â
You laugh at his excitement, shaking your head fondly. âHere.â
You missed the mischievous glint in his eyes as his hand reaches up to supposedly grab the lipbalm from your hand. He then seemingly misses and cups your face instead. You were slightly taken aback, confused at what he was doing. âToru what-â
You were cut you short when he leans down and plants his lips on your newly glossed ones. Your mind somewhat convinced yourself that he was ruining your lipstick so you push him back a bit. âToru-â
But to no avail, as he pulls you by waist, flushed to his chest. He angles his head and kisses you again, deeper this time. It makes you feel warm and hazy. The smacking of lips echoes throughout the bathroom, the balm only making it more distinct. You grab onto the collar of his sweater to ground yourself. The kiss is slow and passionate and as he licks your bottom lip, his tongue tangling with yours, you forgot why you were protesting in the first place.
To your dismay, the both of you needed oxygen. You pull away first, his lips chasing yours before you hid your face in his chest, breathing heavily. âLet me breath a sec,â
He wraps his arms around your body and you feel his heart thumping fast through his chest making you smile. He chuckles, the sound flitting through you. âYouâre right, it is nice- amazing even.â
You lift you head to glare at him but it has no real force behind it. âYouâre shameless, you know that? Here I thought you wanted to try it!â
And he has the gal to grin, âI did try it!â He licks his lips and hums in delight, yet you doubt there were any traces of the lipbalm left. âTastes so good too.â
Despite everything, you feel your face burn. âYoure officially kicked out of self care night!â
âWhat? Nooo! Baby, I was just teasing-â
Yes, you might not have any shred of peace ever again, but you donât mind. Not one bit.
^^ comments are much appreciated <3
#love#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#fanfiction#fluff#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#satoru gojo#jjk#domestic gojo#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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TheShatteredQueen posted in /r/AmITheAsshole:
AITA for doing whatever I can to save my people from genocide?
So obviously that title needs a bit of clarification. I (21f) am leader of a very small and tight knit minority group that's being persecuted by a very rich and very powerful man (3200m) and his family. For anonymity's sake we'll call him "Thunderbeard." He wants us all exterminated and our souls sent straight to eternal punishment, just because he has beef with our parents, my father (10000m) in particular. My father is also his father, but that doesn't really matter to him so we'll leave that aside.
We don't want anything to do with our parents; they made us solely to use as expendable soldiers, and we want more out of life. I literally diced one of them (7400m) and threw the pieces into super hell so we could avoid that. Unfortunately we only got a couple days of peace before Thunderbeard learned about us and had a bunch of his "employees" start hunting us. This was about five years ago.
I've lost good people. I can't imagine how they must be suffering right now, for no good reason. We'll all join them if we don't do something. I have a long term plan, but to enact it I need to buy us time.
Here's where things get complicated. Thunderbeard and his co-tyrants have kids similar to us, and a lot of them. Some are much younger than us, a few are much older, but they definitely outnumber us by a sizeable margin. Whenever Thunderbeard and Co need a job done, they typically send a few of the kids out to do it, more depending on how big the job is. The only reason they haven't been sent against us yet is because Thunderbeard thinks there's not enough of us to warrant it. My worry is that once he realizes he's wrong, he'll "rally the troops," as it were, and we'll be overwhelmed.
So I looked for ways to mitigate that, and happened on one that's a bit morally contentious. See, their kids are split into two groups (the criteria for which is a bit hard to follow and not really relevant atm) that have fought each other in the past. My thought was, if they fight again, maybe they'll weaken each other enough that we stand a chance against them. We've been laying the groundwork for that for a few years now, and earlier this week we kicked things firmly into motion. Barring any unforeseen mishaps, it could be the saving grace we've been praying for.
Now clearly that's not a good thing to do, I'm fully aware of that. It's already putting strain on my personal relationships. I just learned that I have a half-sister (19f) who I'd love to get to know, but she thinks I'm a "warmonger" and won't hear me out at all. It's all I can do some nights to fall asleep while the guilt eats away me.
But what else should we do? My people are counting on me to save them. We're damned even if we do nothing, so isn't the moral thing to fight however we can, even if it's sneaky and underhanded?
AITA?
StrengthAndEndurance: NTA. It's your job to think about what's best for the people under you, not anyone else. Keep your head high, don't let the guilt get to you.
FerrumMemoria: NTA. The oppressed have never gained anything by playing fair with their oppressors. In any liberation movement, bloodshed is inevitable. The ruler who does not recognize this is not fit to rule. Carry on as you have, and worry not about the judgement of history until you've survived to write it.
StargazerButch7: NTA. I understand feeling guilty, but there's no easy way out of this mess. We all appreciate the hard choices you have to make for our sakes. Keep the faith!
WaterloggedRedhead: NTA! Thunderbeard is the real asshole! Keep up the good work, we're all behind you!
Write an r/AmITheAsshole post told from your OCâs perspective. (Bonus: include replies from your other OCs.)
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joy sneaks in
you're chosen to host the BAU's annual christmas party at your apartment, where spencer's books line your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry. the days leading up to the party are a blur of stuffing his things into every drawer and cupboard you can find. itâs your mess. your life together. and itâs everything.
pairing:Â spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)
genre:Â fluff
content: domestic! and also a christmas party! less on the party and more on how spencer and bau!reader suck at lying though; which make for some humorous moments.
word count:Â 3.8k
note: i wrote this awhile back and felt like posting it too. honestly a tad bit dramatised for comedy's sake but whatever i love domesticity and nervous!spencer. and it was fun writing them flounder about.
a line: For the first time, the thought of being home doesnât feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.
joy does not arrive with a fanfare on a red carpet strewn with the flowers of a perfect life joy sneaks in as you pour a cup of coffee - donna ashworth
It starts innocuously enoughâa draw from Hotch's coffee mug, a simple slip of paper pulled out in front of the team, the scrawl of your name on it in black pen, and the pause before your name is announced in his unmistakably measured tone. âLooks like youâre hosting the Christmas party this year.â
Derek grins, his laugh a low rumble. âOh, this is gonna be good,â he drawls, shooting you a look thatâs practically dripping with amusement.
You feel all the eyes on you, and the weight of it sinks into your chest. Your first instinct is to swallow it down, play it cool, try not to look at Spencer. Hosting a party means opening up your spaceâ the space thatâs been shared with Spencer for the last six months. Your apartment, which has slowly morphed into a mix of the two of you, a messy blend of both your livesâwhere his books spill off your shelves and his sweaters are tangled in your laundry, where his favourite mug has a place in your cupboard.
Derek leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk a beacon for trouble. âBetter start tidying up, huh?â You laugh it off, aiming for nonchalance but his teasing lands squarely in your chest. Your heart does that familiar flip when your gaze slips, unbidden, to Spencer who to your dismay, is standing there with his eyes ever so slightly widened like a deer caught in the headlights. You can feel the teamâs teasing smiles from every corner of the room, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. But beneath their teasing, thereâs an edge. Suspicion. Theyâve been suspecting for weeks, piecing together the small clues youâve been desperately trying to keep under wraps.Â
And why wouldnât they? The truth is, youâve been dodging their invites lately, throwing out flimsy excuses about âerrandsâ or âearly morningsâ that didnât quite stick. At first, it was the occasional âIâve got other plansâ, but it became more frequent, more noticeable until even Derek had started to raise an eyebrow. Heâd started poking at the seams of your alibis weeks ago, slouching against your desk with an eyebrow arched in pure disbelief. âCâmon, pretty girl,â heâd said. âWhat gives? Youâve gone full hermit mode on us.â Youâd brushed it off, offering up a half-hearted excuse about how youâll definitely join them next week, but Derek didnât look convinced. And neither did the rest of the team. They werenât blind, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was somethingâor rather someone you werenât telling them about.Â
Then there was Garcia, sidling up to you with that twinkle in her eye that only ever meant trouble. âSpill,â she demanded, hands on her hips. âWho is he? And when do I get to give him the Penelope Garcia Official Seal of Approvalâą?â You had laughed, and tried to deflect with a vague answer about how busy things had been. âWhoever he is, he better be worth it, because youââshe jabs a finger at you with exaggerated flairâânever skip a night out. Ever. Weâre talking borderline-unbreakable attendance!âÂ
You bite back a smile, your mind flickering to those wild nightsâsweaty dance floors, drinks flowing, laughter that echoed until dawn. Itâs still a little surreal to think youâve turned into one of those girlsâthe kind who would happily trade a night out with friends for a quiet evening in with their boyfriend. That was never your style. It was always a point of contention with past boyfriends. They always wanted more of your time, wanted more of your presence, but the idea of slowing down for someone else always felt like a compromise.
But somehow, with Spencer, it doesnât quite feel like you're giving up anything at all. The simple, quiet moments with him have a gravity you never expected. Cooking dinner together while music hums softly in the background, curling up on the couch with a movie youâve both seen a dozen times, or just sitting in comfortable silence as he reads and you scroll through your phone. The domesticity, the softness, the ease of it allâit feels complete. With Spencer, those quiet evenings arenât boring. Theyâre grounding. For the first time, the thought of being home doesnât feel like a concession; it feels like choosing happiness.
Honestly, you donât really know how the team hasnât put two and two together yet. Maybe itâs because you and Spencer had always been closeâit was easy for them to chalk it up to that. Since youâd joined a year ago, it just felt natural to click with him, the two of you always slipping into the same rhythm. You were closest in age, after all, and the team had seen you trading inside jokes over takeout on stakeouts, hunched over books in the quiet moments after cases. In their eyes, it was harmless, a friendship born of long hours and shared exhaustionâNot that that came without teasing.Â
The question was always there, floating just beneath the surface of their casual remarks. Words unspoken, a line uncrossed. That is, until a tense night in Texas where you had gotten far too close to an unsub. The team had gotten to you in time of course, they always do. But that didn't help shake off the lingering memories of the encounter as you stared out the window of the jet. It was so simpleâa quiet look, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb gently tracing over your trembling fingers as you looked out the window trying to dispel the the thoughts of whatever had happened just hours agoâand suddenly, it was like every wall youâd both put up had just vanished. His touch held a weight that words couldnât carry, and in that touch, something between you shifted, settling into a place neither of you had been willing to acknowledge before. Looking back, maybe youâd both felt it coming long before, but neither of you had dared to say it out loud.Â
You and Spencer had made the decision togetherâkeep things quiet a little while longer. It wasnât the right time. Not yet. You wanted to savour the privacy of your stolen moments: his hand brushing yours during late-night coffee runs, your head resting on his shoulder as you both tried to survive the tail-end of a grueling case. It was fragile, precious. You could already hear the laughter, the surprise, the âWe knew it!â and the endless questions about how long it had been going on, how you kept it from them, how you didnât tell them sooner. And you could already feel the weight of thatâhow youâd both be under a microscope in a way you just werenât ready for. You liked the privacy, the simple, quiet moments that only the two of you shared. It was yours, together, something no one else needed to know about just yet.
The days leading up to the party are a blur of frantic cleaning, shoving Spencerâs belongings into anywhere they can fit. âEmilyâs a hawk with this stuff,â Spencer mutters, half-buried in a pile of mismatched socks and paperbacks. It had started with a few quick attempts at tidying up, but soon it turned into a frenzy of stuffing thingsâhis thingsâinto every drawer and cupboard you can find trying to make your place look like youâre just you.Â
You hold up a pair of slippers with a dubious look. âDo these scream, âman secretly living hereâ?â You hesitate, then stuff them into your wardrobe anyway. âHotch will see the shoes. Heâs thorough.â At one point, Spencer just starts throwing random clothes into a duffel bag with a kind of desperate determination, muttering something about how âDerek knows way too much about my wardrobeâ. Despite the chaos, thereâs laughterâgiddy, shared moments, like when Spencer hisses in horror at your attempt to cram his giftâan English copy of War and Peaceâunder the coffee table. âThatâs sacrilege,â he whispers furiously, clutching the book to his chest as if shielding it from harm. You have to bite back a grin.
Thereâs a particular moment though, when youâre crouched beside the couch again, frantically trying to shove a few stray novels underneath the coffee table hoping theyâll blend in with the meticulously arranged stack of Architectural Digest magazines youâd placed there purely for âdecorative purposesâ. Spencer suddenly peeks out from the bedroom, his eyes wide with alarm, his expression a mix of disbelief and panic. âHey, can you, uh, maybe not put those under the coffee table?â he whispers urgently.Â
You pause, halfway through your task, and blink up at him. âWhy?â
âItâs justââ He looks around frantically as though an ominous presence has settled around you. âThey will know. Theyâll know,â he repeats, shaking his head, the weight of some unspeakable doom settling over him. Itâs all you can do not to burst out laughing. You try to keep the situation light, but then you see the look in Spencerâs eyes. This is serious business.Â
And you nearly lose it, stifling a laugh so hard it hurts. The sheer absurdity of the situation. Yet, beneath the humour, thereâs something grounding about itâin the middle of the chaos, the intimacy of it all hits you harder than you expected. This isnât just a mess; itâs your mess. Your life together. And itâs everything.
By the time the day comes and the team arrives, the apartment looks borderline staged. You feel a little more preparedâalmost confident even. You breathe a little easier, relieved that all the obvious signs have been concealed. You act casual, ushering them in with drinks and snacks, but the sharp-eyed profilers in the room are already picking up on things youâve missed. Rossiâs gaze flickers to the second set of keys on the hook. JJ raises an eyebrow at the coffee machine by your counter. You don't drink coffee. And Derek? Heâs grinning like the cat that caught the canary, leaning against the wall and watching it all unfold.
âNice place,â he says smoothly, his tone loaded. Rossiâs eyes fall on the meticulously organized bookshelf, your heart stutters. âWar and Peace,â he says, picking up the hefty copy with a raised brow. âYours?âÂ
You freeze, your stomach sinking, silently cursing yourself for giving in to Spencerâs insistence that it was too precious to be shoved under the dusty coffee table. It had seemed fine at the time, but you shouldâve known better.Â
âYes,â you say too quickly. âMine. Iâm really, uh, passionate about Tolstoy.â
Derek raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. âSince when?
You flounder, trying to remember any of Spencerâs ramblings about the book that you may or may not tune out at times. Your mind races as you remember brief mentions about symbolism and war and societal constraints. âSince, umâŠwell, you know, Tolstoy isâŠdeep. AboutâŠsymbolism. AndâŠlife.â
Spencer, bless him, is standing behind them in your kitchen, making desperate hand signals to help you out. He subtly taps his chest, mouthing âindividualism,â then points at his head, clearly trying to convey something intellectual thatâs just not coming through. His hands flutter around like heâs illustrating the grandness of Russian literature, and you do your best to follow his cues. You latch onto it like a life raft. âIndividualism and thinking aboutâuhâsociety!â You nod vigorously, wishing you could disappear into the floor. Emily eyes you, smiling a little too knowingly. Spencer, meanwhile, is practically acting out War and Peace like a mime in the background, pretending to hold a musket, then making exaggerated âthinkingâ gestures, trying to help you navigate this act.Â
âI just love Tolstoyâs exploration of, uh, individual identity within societal constraintsâŠâ you manage, brows furrowing as if trying to convince even yourself of the words spilling out. Rossiâs brow lifts, skepticism dancing in his eyes, but he says nothing, clearly amused as he watches you scramble, letting you dig yourself a little deeper. Heâs David Rossi for a reasonâThe manâs silence is practically weaponized, making you ramble on and on, as if youâll somehow stumble your way into a believable explanation. Youâre nervous-rambling now and you can feel yourself grasping at threads, scrambling to remember somethingâanythingâthat sounds remotely convincing. You start stumbling over a vaguely remembered plot point and thatâs when Spencer starts making his way towards you from the kitchen, grimacing as you butcher the story. He walks toward you almost as if to steady you, a silent plea for you to stop digging yourself a bigger hole than you already have. âYeah, well⊠itâs, uh, definitely a classic,â he says, stepping in.
Spencer subtly coughs behind his hand, catching Derekâs attention for just a secondâenough to let you scramble for closing line. But the teamâs smirks only grow. âWell,â Emily says with a laugh, âif youâre such a big fan of this Tolstoy guy, why don't you tell us your favorite passage hm?â You try not to cast a desperate look Spencerâs way. Spencer opens his mouth like heâs about to cut in, but Derek catches his attention with a look that says, Donât even think about it, Spence.
Their eyes dart between the two of you, waiting for something. You can feel the tension building. Spencer stands there looking on, probably trying to telepathically send you the correct Tolstoy quoteâor any Tolstoy quote at this point, but youâre lost in a sea of flailing words and desperate thoughts.
âUh, no, actually, I donât have a favorite passage,â you finally stammer. âItâs just, you know, the themes are really profound.â
Emily crosses her arms and gives you a once-over, clearly reveling in whatever spectacle just unfolded. âUh-huh.â You roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, Rossi smoothly redirects the groupâs attention to the kitchen, likely throwing you a lifeline to salvage what little dignity remains. You and Spencer exchange glances, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smile. Itâs a private little conspiracy you two have shared for half a year, but now, as the night wears on, itâs starting to feel like the universe has other plans.
It doesnât help that your team is sharpâthey catch everything, a roomful of profilers who thrive on details, and tonight, every small habit, every casual touch seems magnified. Garcia narrows her eyes when she spots Spencer absentmindedly reaching to fix the crooked frame on the shelf. âYou know where that goes, huh, Boy Wonder?â she teases, winking, and Spencer mumbles something about âaesthetic consistency,â looking thoroughly flustered.
You try to brush it off, laughing along with her, but then thereâs Hotch, eyeing the stack of board games in the corner, the ones you both picked out last month on a whim. âDidnât know you were into game nights,â he comments. âOh, yeah. Huge fan of⊠Scrabble,â you say, your voice a little too high, trying not to look at Spencer, whoâs doing everything he can to stifle a laugh.Â
You can practically hear the thoughts running through his head, probably remembering the night youâd blown up at him after he beat you four times in a row with a ridiculously pretentious winning wordâquixotic, no less. Youâd been so mad, youâd tossed your tiles and stormed off like a petulant child. Now, judging from the way he's trying to hide his grin, the twitch at the corner of his lips, it's clear he hasnât forgotten the fiery aftermath either. You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile.Â
Your life with him has become this strange, endearing mix of shared routines and accidental collections. Where heâs meticulous, youâre spontaneous, always flying by the seat of your pants and, at times, leaving him with a resigned sigh when youâve left your keys in places you never should. Itâs a quiet chaos, but it works. And now, as you stumble through the evening, every little piece of your lifeâ your lives are flashing under the teamâs increasingly suspicious gaze.Â
JJ picks up a scarf lying casually on the floor, half-tucked beneath one of your jackets. She holds it up with a curious look. âHey, Spence, this yours?â Spencerâs heart skips a beat, and he quickly tries to school his expression, but the wide-eyed panic is hard to hide. He looks at the scarf as if itâs just been resurrected from the depths of his lost belongings. âOh thanks!â he says, dramatically, âIâve been looking everywhere for that!â He reaches for the scarf with an eagerness that betrays his attempt at nonchalance, fumbling with it awkwardly. âI thought Iâd lost it,â he adds, his words tumbling out in an over-explained rush as his fingers fuss with the fabric.
JJ doesn't buy it. Not for a second. âFunny, I thought you brought it with you today,â she says, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face. âSince, you know, itâs right here by the door.â
Spencer freezes again, scrambling for a response. âRight... yeah, thatâthat makes sense. Of course.â He forces out a laugh, the sound more nervous than casual, and wraps the scarf around his neck with an exaggerated flourish. âGood to have it back,â he adds weakly, trying and failing to look composed.
JJ just shakes her head, her grin widening. âSure, Spence. Whatever you say.â She watches him for a moment longer, clearly amused by the whole thing, before finally turning away, letting him stew in his overdramatic act. As soon as sheâs out of earshot, Spencer breathes a sigh of relief, but his cheeks are still tinged with pink, and he canât help but glance nervously over at you hoping youâre doing a better job than him at keeping this increasingly bad act up.Â
By the time Garcia corners Spencer in the kitchen, her grin is practically predatory. âYou guys are terrible at this, you know.â Spencer looks all too comfortable setting dishes away for someone who has only ever been to your place 'once or twice'. Spencer sighs, defeated, but thereâs a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you across the room. âYeah,â he says, more to himself than to her. âWe are.â Spencer, at least, seems resigned, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you across the room, fumbling as you desperately try (and fail) to explain away a forgotten pair of mismatched socks by the doorâsomehow "yours" now, despite them clearly being too big.
You can feel your cheeks burning as the night progresses, their eyes catching every little detailâhis fingers brushing against yours when he hands you a drink, the way you absentmindedly drape your arm behind him on the couch as the night winds down after one too many said drinks. The team exchanges knowing glances, soft chuckles bubbling up around you as they take in every stray look and subtle movement between the two of you.Â
As you say your goodbyes and thank yous, itâs clear youâve been thoroughly caught. Emily snickers, shaking her head as she slips on her coat. âYou two are adorable,â she murmurs, grinning without trying to hide it. You clear your throat feigning innocence, trying to look casual. She turns back with a sly smirk, her voice laced with amusement. âSo Spence," she asks, challenging, "You staying the night?â
The room falls silent. They all know. You both know they know. Spencer, ever the professional, tries to brush it off. âIâll help clean up,â he says nonchalantly, but the team is already rolling their eyes, clearly seeing right through the act. Theyâve been in this business long enough to recognize the signs.
You try to come up with something clever but Spencer knows itâs game over. He steps in beside you and thereâs that look on his face, that soft, earnest expression he gets when heâs about to confess somethingâwhether itâs a fact about astrophysics or a half-hidden truth heâs been holding close. âAlright, alrightâ he says, glancing at you for reassurance. âYou got us.â
Spencer slips his hand into yours, his fingers warm and steady, grounding you in this moment. A round of knowing laughter echoes through the room, with Derek clapping Spencer on the back, Garcia gasping dramatically, and Rossi chuckling, muttering something along the lines of âabout timeâ.
Spencer squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.
The team leaves you with a final round of cheers and teasing winks, and as the door clicks shut, you turn to Spencer, his smile mirroring your own. You hear the unmistakable whoops and cheers from outside. A laugh bubbles up inside you.
Once the house quiets and the last footsteps fade away, Spencer pulls you into his arms. The soft glow of the christmas lights he'd helped you put up yesterday creates a warm halo around him as he looks down at you, that adoring smile still tugging at his lips. âGuess the secretâs out,â he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek.
You shake your head, a little amused at how badly youâd tried to cover up something everyone already knew. âWe really are terrible at this,â you admit.
âWell,â he replies in a low voice, âit couldâve gone worse.â
You laugh, resting your head against his chest. âThink they bought it, even for a moment?â
âNot a chance sweetheart,â he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. âBut it was fun watching you try.â
You lean into him, the warmth of his touch, his presence grounding you in a way you never expected but now can't imagine living without. You look around the room, taking in the space youâve shared together. Sure, most of his belongings are still hidden away, tucked somewhat haphazardly in the cupboards or behind closed doors, but there are traces of him everywhere. Itâs in the small thingsâthe little hints of Spencer imprinted into the fabric of your life.
There are hints of Spencer in the kitchen sink, the one he fixed when it started leaking a few months ago. You had been ready to call a plumber, but Spencer had insisted he could handle it. He always does.
There are hints of Spencer in how you've stopped arranging your plates a certain way just for aesthetics because he'd proven how much more convenient it was to stack them according to how often you used them.
There are hints of Spencer in the stain on the couch from pasta night three weeks ago, a mishap that still makes you both laugh whenever you catch sight of it.
There are things only the two of you can understand. A code only the two of you can decipher. Small, unnoticed details that no one else can seeâNo matter how observant they are, no matter how well they think they can read you.Â
And so maybe it's okay that the secret youâve shared for months now belongs to the people who matter most. Because as you think of these little hints of Spencerâthe way heâs subtly woven himself into your life and you into hisâyou realize that some things do get to stay your own little secret after all. And in that, thereâs something beautiful, something thatâs just yours.
ââŽïžËïœĄâ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer x reader#spencer x self insert#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x bau!reader
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A little FiddleStan AU I cooked up, more information about the AU below the cut!
I'll probably post a few more characters from this AU later!
Aren't they just the cutest couple? (* Ž ✠` *)
BADEND FiddleStan Au
> Welcome to BLIND EYE CO. : Unsee It All!
-To Start us off, Ford sends his postcard over to Stanley a lĂĄ Canon, and Stanley immediately drops everything to rush up to Gravity Falls all the way from New Mexico, spending his last dime on gas and driving with as little breaks as possible. At this point in time, Fiddleford has left Stanford and is actively going through a divorce and the process of loosing his mind via mind gun overexposure. Stanford is not doing well, paranoid and extremely sleep deprived, watching for Bill in any eye sockets or triangles that flash in the corner of his eyes. None of them are doing well to sum it up.
- Stanley arrives fresh off a no breaks drive to meet with his estranged brother of 10 years, and while not exactly expecting a warm welcome, a crossbow pointed at his head and a flashlight shone in his eyes certainly didn't help set the tone of the meeting. Or help the spinning in his head. Or the Nausea. Frankly he only caught the tail end of Fords very concerning speech, but at least he knew to follow him down the stairs.
-naturally things devolve from there, Ford demanding Stanley take his research and flee while Stanley grapples with the fact that it's all Ford wanted of him. Spiraling into a physical fight once old grudges are dug up from their graves. A Fight that brands Stanley with a symbol he can't even understand, turning something on he didn't even know the danger of. A singular shove that absolutely wrecked Stanley's world, and the last words "Do Something Stanley!" Haunting the room as the portal that his brother built ate him and imploded.
- Fiddleford notices the gravitational anomalies and panics, going into hiding but terrified for Fords safety against his better judgment.
- Stanley spends the next week desperately trying to peice together both the portal and the journals contents, and his mental health takes an even steeper decline. He sits in the same lab going over whatever books he can find and that stupid journal over and over and over until he works on the portal till the next injury or road block, surviving off of whatever canned food both he and Ford combined had left
- Enter Fiddleford, who couldn't bear not to check on Ford after the gravitational anomalies and continued radio silence. Just a confirmation that he wasn't dead, Fiddleford told himself. Nothing more. Stanford deserved no more from him, after all Fiddleford had given. Just a quick safety check in for the sake of an old friend. A knock on the door, however, brought a slow shuffle towards it and opened to reveal a very tired, very devastated..... not Ford? But also Ford? At least he certainly looked like Ford. But Ford had less muscle mass last time Fiddleford saw him. Less hair too, because Stanford? Have a mullet? What sealed it was the normal, five fingered hands that the Not-Ford rubbed his eyes with when Fiddleford demanded, as politely as possible, to know who he was and where Stanford went.
- Fiddleford is invited in and the two sit on a couch Not-Ford cleared off in this waste zone of a house and explains that his name is Stanley, and he's the estranged brother of Ford. Who also happens to be his identical twin. Ford had called him up to help him by taking his stupid journal and running, the two got in a fight, and Ford got sucked in. Fiddleford felt cold panic settle in his gut, thoughts scattered and memories of what was on the other side coming back in nauseating waves, lapping at his consciousness.
- At first Stanely succeeds in getting Fiddleford to help him with the portal, and he's extatic while Fiddleford is decidedly not. However much to Fiddlefords surprise, he isn't forced into the basement, or working on that devil machine, or even couped up in the study to work nonstop. Instead, Stanley gives him a notebook and pen, and gives a description or photo of the exact thing he needs help with, explains to the best of his, admittedly limited, knowledge what the problem is, and has Fiddleford help. Then, Stanley thanks him profusely and dissapears by himself down to the depths of the lab, laving Fiddleford with the glow of the TV and a warm drink.
And it confuses him.
Greatly.
Because there were very few times Ford mention having a twin; Fiddleford could count them on one hand. But Ford had been angry most of those times, other than the one or two when crying and drunk, saying that Stanley had been 'ruled by emotion' and was 'brash with no tact'. But where Ford had been accusatory and sharp, Stanley had been understanding and toned down. There had been very few times over the last few days Stanley had raised his voice, and it was more out of frustration or picking at a touchy subject than anything. And more than that was the way he would shrink just a bit and apologize with enough self loathing that Fiddleford could taste it, sticky and bitter in the back of his throat. Stanford ignored everything when in a project. Stanley only seemed to ignore himself. Stanley was nothing like Stanford had been, and Fiddleford found himself craving those differences more and more, craving more time spent with Stanley, more conversation, more memories, just more Stanley. A pleasant but confusing change, especially when Stanley's features where so similar to Fords.
- Fiddleford would blame the fact that he didn't notice Stanley's condition until much later into staying back at Fords place on the way his mind was still shifting itself into something usable again, however once he noticed he would never stop cursing himself for how he didn't before. Stanley had collapsed in the kitchen, and it had taken nearly all of Fiddlefords mental power to drag the information on his injuries out of Stanley so he could treat them. The poor man had been walking around with that nasty burn treated the best Stanley could, but improperly the whole time, and infection had begun to set in like a bastard. That wasn't even beginning to speak of the malnutrition, dehydration and multiple other bruises and cuts, some yellowed, faded, crusted over, some fresh, purpled and bloodied all on too pale skin. Scars told of a life that was harder than Fiddleford had ever originally thought to think of, questions popping in his mind as he treated the increasingly more worrying Stanley.
And in this Time, Fiddleford was alone with his thoughts.
Fiddleford was here. Again. In Fords house, trying to save him from himself. Again. And frankly he was tired. He'd pushed past his family in favor of Fords shiny promises and stayed far past when he should have, gave more of his knowledge, more of his friendship, hell, more of his heart than he'd ever thought possible. And Ford still always wanted, Needed, more. Fiddleford had felt all that rage for himself and his life over and over, but feeling it for someone else was new. Yet here he was.
Here Stanley was.
Because really, what kind of man gets a call from a man he hasn't seen in 10 years, basically a stranger, one who never talks about him, and drops absolutely everything to help them? New Mexico was a 20 hour drive from Gravity Falls, and Stanley had driven that with the absolute last of his money, no sleep, just driving. Only for Ford to completely dismiss him for the survival of his research over the world. Fiddleford had no idea what Stanley supposedly 'did' when they were younger, like Stanford had vaguely mentioned and Stanely kept saying in a heartbreakingly familiar tone dripping with guilt and self hatred, but Fiddleford could tell from a mile away it was bullshit. Stanford had no reason to hate Stanley so badly. Stanley had no reason he should have helped Ford after God knows what he went through, but he did anyways. Ford? Fiddleford would bet the last of his sanity just to say that Ford wouldn't return the favour. He never had before.
- Fiddleford spirals deeper and deeper as he treats a heavily feverish Stanley, his hatred for Ford growing into a tangible thing the more he thought. And oh, how much simpler this would have all been if he'd simply met Stanley first. Rougher around the edges but kinder. Sweeter. God the way he was so gentle with Fiddleford even though he had no reason to be. The way he'd taken the existence of the memory gun in stride and stated he'd be here if Fiddleford needed support with it. It would be so much easier if Stanley just agreed to shut the portal down forever. Then they could just live. Together, of course, Fiddleford didn't think he could live without Stanley's gruff support now that he'd had it, but just. Simply live. Without the threat of the world, or demons, or weirdness over top of them.
Without the threat of Ford.
Oh how tempting it was, Fiddleford thought, in the days were Stanley was becoming more lucid while still soft and warm due to his sickness, to just simply erase Ford from Stanley's mind. But that would leave too much of a gap, and as he regains his mind bit by bit, Fiddleford begins to come to the conclusion that the memory gun needed a bit of work, yes, but as long as it wasn't over used then it's intended purpose would be served. Over using included, however, memories that were too big to simply pluck out completely. Its where he'd went wrong with his own treatment, and like hell he would leave Stanley to deal with the consequences of that.
Then, in the last few days where Stanley was beginning to move about in small increments as he shook away the last clawing hands of illness away, Fiddleford realized it. He didn't need to erase Ford completely from Stanley's mind.
Fiddleford just had to erase Stanley's love for Ford.
- So, he was patient. Fiddleford waited until Stanley was well, until he walked with full strength and his laugh was full again, until he was sure that the grown affection Stanley had for him after his illness allowed him close enough.
Fiddleford even made sure his memory gun was freshly updated and tuned to the most perfect he'd ever gotten it, making sure the shot would be clean and accurate for his Stanley's sake. Only the best for that man from now on, Fiddleford swore it.
Then he waited until he'd made sure Stanley was relaxed. Had gone out for the day and convinced him to go out to Greasys with Fiddleford. Had taken Stanley for a walk through the woods and laughed as his eyes sparked in excitement even as he cussed out a gnome. Had curled up together, warm and safe on the couch, watching movies and drinking a couple beers. Fiddleford even managed to persuade Stanley away from another long night in the portal room, asking him to stay to sleep for Fiddlefords sake, which Stanley relented to nearly immediately. It was all just such a perfect day. It all just confirmed to Fiddleford that he was absolutely doing the right thing. He'd be happier. Stanley would be happier. And Ford could stay having his horrific adventures on the other side, just like he had seemed to want so badly.
In the dead quiet of that night, Fiddleford pulled the memory gun silently from underneath his pillow, and smiled at Stanley, sleeping soundly on his chest, and fired it directly at Stanley's temple. The only sound Stanley made was a soft exhale, one that Fiddleford chose to believe was relief.
- In the following years, Fiddleford never regretted that choice. Stanley woke up and immediately broke down to Fiddleford, initially panicking him at first thinking he'd broken Stanley, them realized the man was talking about desperately not wanting to bring Ford back, asking Fiddleford if he thought he was horrible for saying so. After that it had been Fiddlefords pleasure to inform his sweet Stanley that not only did he not hate him, but shared his thoughts and truthfully didn't want to open that portal ever again. Things had moved quicker with Stanley dismantling the cursed thing than building it, and Fiddleford hadn't ever been happier. Clearing out Fords house of anything not safe to research or just plain garbage had been so satisfying too, convincing Stanley with little effort to replace any symbol of Bill with quite literally anything else. The Society of the Blind Eye had been a surprise, after all Fiddleford had never expected a group of people to find his scrapped plans or suggest he ever start them, but it was sweet, professional conman Stanley who had suggested making something more out of it. Afterall, Fidds had wanted his own company once, why not start with this?
- With that, BLIND EYE CO. was born, originally starting as a cover for the Society to do their work, growing into a more legitimate business with Fiddlefords inventions and Stanley's charisma faster than they'd thought possible. Fiddleford even continued the Gravity Falls anomaly research to better understand what could cause what, and which things were better of forgotten. Stanley, however, wanted nothing to do with the research of the journal to help with these findings, stating that nothing Ford had made he would ever want to touch, which suited Fiddleford just fine, in fact it delighted him. With Fiddleford and Stanley as both the owners and CEOs of the company( and the Society not that the town knew) it was no wonder the town quickly came to love them and know them, this large company that gave back to the community and was started right here in sleepy little Gravity Falls! How novel.
- Fiddlefords son, Tate, (now allowed to visit since Fiddleford was 'mentally stable') had taken the change badly at first, seeing his father turn from fine to broken to better than ever before, but warmed up once Stanley showed his soft side to him. Tate seemed to like Stanley better than he ever had Ford, which made Fiddlefords heart absolutely soar with happiness. Stanley and Fiddleford, while it wasn't legal to be married just yet, didn't have a solid relationship with the law anyhow and happily wore matching rings with pride. The memory gun is still in use and is consistently upgraded, with Fiddleford being the main figurehead to use it while Stanley happily sat next to him and did whatever he needed.
- Meanwhile in the nightmare realm, things are absolutely not going how Bill Cipher thought. Seriously how the hell was he to know the hillbilly would come back and steal Mackerel away from fixing the portal?! Stanley should have been getting that portal open to get Fordsy not forgetting he ever even liked sixer! Once again that stupid Specs, always messing up Bills progress. He does, however, get a new idea on how to screw with Ford while he's trapped here.
- Ford is greeted randomly, via Bill, with mirrors into his home dimension, taunting him with what's happening just to screw with him as he survives.
And screw with him it does.
Ford watches helplessly as his closest friend and former partner cuddles up to his frantically overworked brother finally at rest, and puts the memory gun to his head, and sees pure Red.
Ford is now hopping though dimensions with a purpose; subdue Bill, get home, cure Stanley, and Kill Fiddleford. And he won't stop until he does.
- Enter Mabel and Mason(Dipper) Pines, sent to their Grunkle 'Stanford' and his husband for the summer, when Dipper finds a journal that seems to have a page of a diffrent kind of paper hes never seen sticking out. The note holds an incantation written in the same cursive as the journal, and details preforming a spell on a mirror, labelled simply as EMERGENCY CONTACT NEEDED. Upon doing the incantation, the children are met with a shadow in the mirror telling them he's their trapped uncle, he's trying to get back to someone named 'Stanley' Pines, dont make deals with yellow triangles and above all else:
Do NOT Trust FIDDLEFORD
Do NOT Trust 'STANFORD'
TRUST NO ONE
Welcome to Gravity Falls!~â
#digital art#art#gravity falls#stanley pines#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddlestan#gravity falls au#BLINDEYECO.#bad end au
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Busy, Dying. Part 2;
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.
Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.
-OR-
an a/b/o soulmates AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Heâs a loser your honor!!!
Word Count: 6.3K
Read on AO3
Part 2;
It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirrorâI am so alone I am so alone I am so aloneâthe feeling will go away. Banished ghost.Â
You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die.Â
The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting.Â
Heâs like a raging bull after that. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like thisâall the while with a wife at home.Â
You wonder about her.Â
âThat one has a bad temper,â Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. âBig and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.â
You say, âI think heâs shy.âÂ
She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, âYouâre lost, girl. Joel Miller isnât what you need finding you.â
But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him.Â
The following Friday, heâs the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as wellâno show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if heâs ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why youâre so obsessed.
Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information.Â
His wife had been sick, he says. Heâd had to take her to the doctor.Â
You wonder if her sickness might be his babyâsick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself.Â
Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another.Â
âYouâve been ignoring me,â he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near.Â
âNo I havenât.â
âYouâre not supposed to tell lies in church. Itâs a sin.â
âI donât believe in sin.â You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts.Â
Heâs got on a dark green fishermanâs sweaterâwell worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if itâs been his for years.Â
Youâre feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, and for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And itâs only that, well you donât know him, yes, but youâd felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and youâre angry at yourself and at him at how wrong youâd been, still even after all these weeks of radio silence while heâd been busy caring for his sick wife.Â
âMe either,â he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans.Â
Setting the donut in your hand back on the tableârude and gross, but itâs an afterthoughtâyou wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat.Â
âAnywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to beââ you mumble, brushing past him. Thereâs a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.
Youâll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and youâll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly.Â
âWhoah, hold on,â he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. Youâd brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs and pace as he catches up.Â
Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and heâs right there, so close. âI havenât been ignoring you. You were gone.â Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it.Â
âI know. Iâm sorry.â
A scoff. âWhat are you apologizing to me for?âÂ
âYouâre the most interesting person Iâve ever met in my entire life.â He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology.Â
âYou must not have met very many interesting people.â
It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry.Â
âMaybe not,â he says very low. It seems heâs drifting closer, like youâll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still canât look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and Godâs name being taken in vain.Â
âYou should go back in there,â you tip your chin at the depths youâd just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, âFind someone else whoâs interesting.â
He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shouldersâyou decide youâre even colder now, you donât think youâll ever be warm againâand takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow.Â
This man. âArenât you here to get to know people?â You demand, finally looking up at him angrily.Â
âNo,â he shakes his head. âLetâs go for a walk.â His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.
It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass.Â
Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they werenât really there.Â
Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold.Â
âHere, let me help you,â he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more.Â
Sitting before youâyou perch alone on the island of his given coatâhe tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips.Â
âYouâre angry with me,â he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine.Â
âIt doesnât matter.â
Finally, he looks at you, too. Heâs got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You canât help smiling at him, it feels too natural.Â
âNow youâre honest.â
âI wouldnât tell a lie here,â you say, and he sighs like youâre a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. But turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, thereâs a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.
The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, youâd never believed you could feel the cold so littleâlearning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islandsâyou trace the woolen edge of his coat against the groundâsome twenty years your senior and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. Youâd awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you wouldâve been sick with it if it were possible. And nowâyou hadnât felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality.Â
How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.
Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years.Â
âHow old are you?â Breaking the silence, you ask him.
âForty three.â
âYou have a brother.â He nods. âI have one too.â
âDo you speak to yours? I donât.â
âHe calls me once a month. Itâs all he can bear of me.â
âMine wonât speak to me.â He sounds sad saying so.Â
âWhy not?â
âI hurt him. Scared him.â
âMy brother, he says my whole life is papier-mĂąchĂ©. My values are all wrong, Iâm a crowd-pleaser. Itâs probably true.â Youâd felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him. âHow did you hurt him?â
âYou canât change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommyâs failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.â
The willow becomes your confessional. âI spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I donât want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.â
The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain.Â
Heâs looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.
âThe last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.â
âAre you?â
He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. âProbably. Iâve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I canât. Itâs right there.â The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next.Â
You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it.Â
âWhatâs your favorite thing about your work?â You ask him.Â
Where does his wife think he is right now?
âThatâs a nice question. MaybeâŠâ he thinks a moment, âGetting to make things thatâll go in peopleâs homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.â
You canât help yourself. âWhy arenât you at home?â You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is heâs doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. âDonât you love your wife?â The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding.Â
He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment.Â
âI donât know,â he finally answers. âI remember loving her. Maybe. At best? Sheâs a stranger. At worst? An excuse?â But he says it like a question. Heâs asking you, not telling, for he isnât even sure of it himself. Youâve caught him off guard.Â
âNoâŠâ the click of his tongue snapping you to attention, âThat's too generous. Weâre trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.â It suddenly feels like he shouldnât be telling you thisâabout her. Youâre sure he shouldnât be.Â
âDo you hate each other?â You ask anyway. Thereâs somethingâŠyour only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. Itâs difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like.Â
If you were truly brave, youâd ask if he has children, too.Â
âNo,â he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. âThat would take too much effort.âÂ
Now you understand. Heâs alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. Youâre frightened by this moment of discovery.Â
âYouâre Southern. Your accentâŠâ You canât discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject.Â
âTexas.â
âWhen did you leave?â
âLong time ago.â
âDo you miss it?â
At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. âNo. Where are you from?â
âSometimes it feels like I canât even remember.â
And as if heâd pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what thatâs like, and you canât help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him.Â
-
âIâve never been in love,â you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation youâd frightened yourself with. âIt seems too daring, even grotesque.âÂ
He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows thereâll be a broken heart.Â
Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but youâre beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.
âWonât you tell me a secret?â You beg.
He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks heâd been kept away, heâd desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty.Â
âI think about you,â voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep. Â
The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned danger.Â
âWe shouldâŠâ you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, âWe should fuck.â He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?
He cringes away from you. âExcuse me?âÂ
âSex. Youâve had it before.â His mind reels. His bodyâs reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words. Â
Looking away, he watches the pondâs couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence.Â
âDonât be peevish. Itâs unbecoming.âÂ
He canât help feeling angry. âIâm not. Iâm old enough to be your father.â And you laugh at him. Youâre deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it.Â
âWe could pretend thatâif thatâs what you want,â you say, voice husky and seductive. A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air.Â
You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.
âDonât be disgusting,â he shoots back, hot everywhere.Â
âDonât be a prude.â He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if heâd hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs.Â
Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. âWhat if we lose everything? What if tomorrowâs the end of the world? What if weâre so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?âÂ
His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed in such a wayâheâs like some creature coming upon its mate.Â
Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing heâd never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant.Â
He canât even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation.Â
âHave you ever even fucked an omega?â You spit at him meanly.Â
âWe shouldnât be talking about this.â Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control.Â
âTell me anyways,â you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it.Â
âItâs cold. Put that back on.â
âTell me.â And he shouldnât. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.
âOnce. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.â Heâs man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.
But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if youâre trying to soothe yourself.Â
âIâm sorry,â you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. âIâve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. Iâmââ you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. â...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like Iâll float away if I donât find anyone to hold me down.âÂ
He should tell you that youâre not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinousâhe straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine.Â
Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways.Â
The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five oâclock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldnât waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God.Â
And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairsâwearing his coat. He doesnât hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours.Â
The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied.Â
His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust.Â
He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what youâd looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday.Â
The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks.Â
âHave you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?â The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.
Youâre anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions.Â
Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath.Â
Heâs been so busy lately, distracted. Heâs hungry, overstrained, anxious himself. He doesnât mean to be brusque with you. He just canât help himself.Â
Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back.Â
The woman laughs, she has a kind face. âMe either.â You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. âBut there was someone⊠once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didnât choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.âÂ
And he suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and heâs gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy.Â
The speaker changes, and then itâs Mariaâs voice talking to them all. Joel still canât look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. âStop, Joel,â you whisper. But he canât.Â
âAt the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who arenât able to find what youâre looking for in this. Sometimes itâs not so simple,â Maria tells them.Â
A miracle move on drug, she calls it.Â
The groupâs coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what heâd been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups theyâd targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all.Â
âItâll help you let go of everything you canât let go of,â Maria tells them. âHelp make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. Weâll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone whoâs interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.âÂ
Beside him, you whisper, âOnly a coward would take that option. What a cheat.â He hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words.Â
âYouâll never have to grieve or miss something you canât get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,â Maria says.
âI think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.â
You exchange cards. Now itâs your turn, the wounded look.Â
When Mariaâs through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, youâre up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before heâs once again, striding after you.Â
You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are.Â
Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. Youâre really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if itâs been years since a soul stepped through here.Â
âWhatâs wrong with you?â Your face glows with fevered sweat.Â
âIâm sick,â you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. âLet me go. Stop,â you fight, trying to claw away from him.
âNo youâre not.â
âYes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?â Shoving at his chest now feebly.
Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. âYouâre not sick,â he says again, sure now.Â
Thereâs a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he think heâs ever felt in his entire life.Â
Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more.Â
âYouâre not sick. Youâre going into heat,â he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms.Â
Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. âNo. But itâs not time. I had one not so long ago.â You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. âMy blockers...Iâ I canât be. Itâs not time yet.â
âItâs a breakthrough heat.â His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. âItâs mine. Because of me.â
âNo.â You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom.Â
Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before heâs prowling after the sound of your crying.Â
-
âYou need to not run from me right now. Itâll make my rut come faster,â his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown.Â
You scramble around the childrenâs desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You donât want to go into heat right now. You canât. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.
His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and thereâs a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten.Â
âYou want me to lose my self control. Thatâs what this is, isnât it?â Thereâs a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering shriek. And then heâs here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if heâd just run miles fighting against himself.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says. âIâm sorry. Come here, baby. Iâm sorry, I didnât mean to scare you. Itâs okay.â He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. âYouâre only going into heat, thatâs all, sweet girl. Iâve triggered it for you and Iâm sorry. Let me come to you.â
You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. âJoel,â you say once.
âIâm here. Itâs okay.â
âItâs only thatââ
âWhat is it?â
âI have to tell you something.â
âTell me.â
âIâm embarrassed.â A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid.Â
âYouâve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Donât we?â
And heâs right of course. Youâd picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. âIâve had heatsâŠbut Iâve neverânever had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.âÂ
Heâs utterly silent and you feel deranged enough youâre almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.
âYouâve never had a knot take your cunt?â
âNo.â You swallow. âNever.â
You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment.Â
âThen how?â
You flush full of heat, embarrassed. âTâtoys,â you stutter. âMedication to help ease it.â
When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, itâs obvious this was all youâd needed to calm down.Â
You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then heâs bending slowly.Â
First, itâs a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan.Â
âYour mouthâŠYour mouth is so beautiful,â he says.
Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything youâve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.
His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. âFuck.â His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. âHave you had sex before?â The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast.Â
âYes.â His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin.Â
âBut not an alpha.â He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear.Â
âItâs going to feel so good,â he promises, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. âItâs different. ItâsâŠâ That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your ass. âItâs ordinary if it isnât with someoneâŠspecial. If thereâs not the possibility ofââÂ
You tell him you understand what heâs trying to say.Â
âI think itâll be so good between us,â he finishes.Â
At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt.Â
âOh, Joel. Not here,â you moan. âSomeone will come in.â Heâs circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. âWe canât in a church.â Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him.Â
âI donât give a fuck.â
He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. âTight, baby,â he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis.Â
He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine.Â
âCan feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesusââ he groans. Itâs all mine, whispered into your hair.Â
Suddenly, thereâs the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someoneâs voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you.Â
âRight there?â He hums.Â
Youâre crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning.Â
âIf I fuck you, nobody else ever will.â His voice is so dark itâs menacing. Itâs recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe itâs hope.Â
Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and youâre coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching pussy, and the frightened slam of a door.Â
âItâs alright. Youâre alright. Thatâs my good girl,â he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.
Part 3;
Netherfeildren's Masterlist
Updates Blog
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i love soft ale đ„č potential request if it sparks your interest: very early days of dating alexia and reader assumes sheâs not a cuddly type so tries to give her space. realises alexia is in fact very much a cuddly type whoâs asking to be lil spoon. reader teasing her cos how tf is the stoic woman i met a couple weeks ago the same one now making happy noises because iâm scratching her back??? đ€š
little spoon â alexia putellas x reader
in which: alexia needs a cuddle after a long day. she just doesn't know how to approach it
warnings: none
wc: 1.5k
a/n: been a minute since i published something! i've been very busy with my christmas series, but i got this request an hour or two ago and couldn't resist lol. hope you enjoy! (not proofread, sorry for any mistakes)
Alexia was many things. Sweet, thoughtful, caring, affectionate, considerate, dating the Spaniard was more perfect than youâd ever imagine it would be. It was still early days, you two had only been exclusive for a couple weeks, but you felt good with her. It felt right. Like you belonged together.
Every night, when Alexia finished rewatching footage or studying game plans, and you finished work for your marketing job, youâd find yourself together on the couch. Talking about anything and everything, munching on a meal either her or you cooked, nursing a glass of wine as the night went on. It usually ended in watching a movie or an episode from a show you were following together, a little routine youâd grown to love.
There was one thing, though, something that you found yourself feeling a little apprehensive about. Alexia wasnât a cuddler. You loved nothing more than the prospect of cuddling up against your brunette lover after a long day of missing her at work. Alexia, on the other hand, not so much. Always an armâs length between the two of you on the couch, never snuggled up in bed. She wasnât very fond of cuddling close to one another. Or so you thought.
It wasnât until one particular Thursday night, that you realised you were very wrong. Alexia came home late. A double training session, two tactical meetings and some media bits here and there led to a very long day, only arriving home a little past 9 in the evening. She dreaded days like these, especially since she knew she had a warm body waiting for het at home.
You were sat on the couch, immersed in the final couple chapters of your book, when you heard a set of keys jiggle outside the front door of your apartment. You glanced at the clock on your phone and frowned, knowing your girlfriend would probably not be in the best mood following the long day she had. You closed your book and left it on the coffee table, making your way over to the front door.
You noticed how slagged her shoulders were, barely able to carry the weight of the day anymore. She toed off her shoes and took off her jacket in complete silence before turning towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. âAmor,â she breathed against your shoulder. âIâm here, baby,â you reassured your girlfriend, rubbing soothing patterns across her back.
You stayed like that for a while, only pulling away after a couple of minutes as you heard Alexiaâs belly growl. âThereâs a plate in the microwave for you. I made your favourite pasta. I figured you could use some comfort food after the day you had.â Alexia wouldnât admit it, but you swear you saw some tears welling up in the Spaniardâs eyes. âGracias, amor. I love you.â You retreated back to the couch after a couple more lingering kisses, soon joined by your girlfriend with a plate of pasta perched on her lap. Again, though, a couple feet away from you. You decided not to think much of it and put on a movie youâd started watching the other day, before you got interrupted by a surprise visit from Alba.
Alexia finished her portion of pasta in record time and stood up to put her dishes away in the dishwasher, the Spanish captain forever a clean freak. It had its perks, sure, but you werenât exactly very fond of the scolding youâd get every time you left your dishes in the sink to clean up the next day.
She sat back down next to you with a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the long day slowly ebbing away the longer she was in your presence. âHow was your day, bebĂ©?â Alexia mustered up a small smile and turned her body towards you, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa, supporting her head. âHmm, fine. Lots of meetings, a couple new projects, nothing out of the ordinary.â Your girlfriend hummed, trying her best to seem interested, but talking about your work wasnât really high on her list of things to do right now.
In reality, she just wanted to bury herself in your arms and let the remnants of the long day wash away in your embrace. But she didnât know how to. Youâd never really⊠cuddled. She assumed it just wasnât your thing, because you had never initiated it. Not on the couch, not in bed. She didnât want to intrude, or make you uncomfortable, so she would usually steer clear. Today, though, she needed it.
Alexia shuffled a little closer to you and rest her hand on one of your outstretched legs, softly tracing her fingers up and down your bare thigh. You softly hummed at the sensation, her touch slightly ticklish. A couple moments passed and she shifted again, now nudging your legs apart a little and positioning herself in between them, but not facing you. You tried to catch her gaze, wondering what it was that she wanted, but she avoided any eye contact.
You didnât hear her the first time, causing her to speak up a little louder. âAmor,â Alexia breathed, in a voice that you couldnât describe any different than whiny. âYes, baby?â You raised your eyebrows and met Alexiaâs gaze, frowning slightly as you noticed the troubled expression on her face. âWhatâs up, Ale? You wanna talk about your day?â The brunette shook her head rapidly, biting her lip before she spoke up. âCan I lay with you?â
The question surprised you. Of all the things that you thought Alexia would want or need after a long day, you didnât think it would be that. Alexia had never asked for a cuddle. She asked for hugs, sure, but never to lay close to you. You quickly agreed, wanting nothing more than to hold your girlfriend close. âOf course, baby. Come here.â You shuffled a bit further up the couch and nudged your legs further apart, leaving her space to crawl into â but she didnât.
âAle? All good?â The Spaniard looked up at you and you tried to read her gaze. âCan I be⊠how you say, the spoon?â You withheld a chuckle at her accent, forever endeared with the brunette whenever she tried to speak English. âYou want to be the little spoon?â You asked, wanting to make sure thatâs what she meant. It earned you a nod and a small smile, a sight you swear youâd never grow old of.
âOf course. Come here.â You shifted on the couch so your back was now facing the back of the couch, leaving some space for Alexia in front of you. She wasted no time in curling up against you, burying her face in your neck as she fished your shirt in her hands.
You didnât quite know what to do. Alexia had never been like this with you. You werenât complaining, not at all, youâd probably never felt happier in the past couple weeks of dating the footballer than now. Alexia exhaled deeply, nuzzling her face deeper in the crook of your neck as she settled. âComfortable?â She hummed, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin where her head rested.
You shuffled and got comfortable, reaching a hand behind your girlfriendâs body and softly scratching her back underneath her shirt. Alexia nuzzled impossibly closer and you held her tight, tracing your nails up and down her back as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.
You scratched her back until you thought sheâd fallen asleep, her breathing evening out a bit, but you were very wrong. Your attempt at retreating your hand from underneath her shirt was met with an unsatisfied grumble and a pinch to your side, to which you chuckled. âNeedy, are we?â Alexia scoffed, but it held no malice as you felt her lips forming a grin against the skin of your neck.
You once again started scratching your nails up and down her back. âMhm, feels good,â Alexia mumbled against your neck. You pressed a tender kiss against her crown. You soaked up the warmth from Alexiaâs body pressed so close to yours, your figures moulding together like you were made for each other.
You spent the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch, eventually moving to the bed where the Spaniard once again curled up against you, this time her head resting on your chest and her leg swung across your midsection.
âWouldnât have taken you for a cuddler, Alexia,â you teased, after giving her a kiss good night. âShut up. I thought you didnât like it. We have to make up for lost time.â You chuckled and pressed a soft kiss against her crown, closing your eyes as you soaked in the warmth from your lover. âThereâs nowhere Iâd rather be.â
#woso#woso community#woso imagine#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#barcelona femini#fcb femenĂ#fcb femeni#spain wnt
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i love you, in every time àżâ§â 1974 - ...but it was never meant to be
chapter summary: You and Logan have been living in the Canadian Rockies for almost 6 months, enjoying the peace and solitude that comes with it.
word count: 8.9k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: this is just fluff, at least until the end... but we're finally hitting the movies! and sorry for it being a bit shorter than the others, there are some ideas i'm saving for a future chapter :))
(p.s. the first sentence about the hotel in nyc is going to be very important to remember for a future chapter...)
warnings/tags: fluff, origins!logan, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, (beginning of) x-men origins, character death
series masterlist - chapter 5 â chapter 7
Leaving was easy once you got past the one incident. You and Logan had stopped that day at a hotel a bit out of New York City only to be found by your fatherâs men.
But what happened was almost like magic. Logan, your Logan, took them all out with claws. At first you were bewildered, shocked at what you just saw. But now, after 6 months of living in the Canadian Rockies, it was normal.
Normal.
Mornings would start with the soft light streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over your shared space as Logan brewed coffee and you stretched, enjoying the easy comfort of it all.
Logan had found work quickly enough as a lumberjack, something that kept him outside and busy, and it suited him. Meanwhile, youâd stumbled upon a small animal shelter in the nearby town. Youâd started going once or twice a week, helping out with the dogs and occasionally picking up shifts to keep yourself busy and connected to some semblance of normal life.
The routines you fell into together were quiet, steady, and for the first time in a long while, you felt grounded. Though you missed New York sometimes, especially the volunteer work at the retirement home, the silence of the woods and the small town was a peaceful change.
Not only were things peaceful, but Logan had started opening up to you in the quiet of your cabin, usually in the early morning or after one of his nightmares. It started with little thingsâdetails about his mutation, his healing ability. Then, as the days blurred into weeks, he told you about his age and the wars heâd fought in, his voice quiet, words weighed down with old memories.
One chilly morning, you found him staring out the window, his gaze distant as he sipped his coffee. You moved up beside him, nudging his shoulder with yours. âHey, you alright?â
He looked down at you, a flicker of a smile breaking through the shadows. âYeah. Just⊠thinkinâ,â he murmured, his voice rough but calm.
âAnything you want to talk about?â you offered, watching his face closely.
Logan considered this for a moment, then took a long breath. âI think⊠just realizinâ how long itâs been since I had somethinâ like this,â he finally admitted, a glint of honesty in his eyes. âItâs been a hell of a road, darlinâ.â
You reached out, resting your hand on his forearm. âI donât need to know everything, Logan. Iâm just glad youâre here now.â
He gave a short nod, letting his hand rest over yours, a simple gesture that spoke volumes. He didnât say anything, but his fingers wrapped around yours, holding them a moment longer than necessary.
---
Life in the cabin wasnât extravagant, but there was a certain charm in the simplicity. Nights spent by the fire, mornings with the scent of pine and fresh coffee, and the comforting weight of Loganâs arm draped over you as you both drifted into sleep. But there were also the little bumpsâlike the time you tried making him dinner.
It had been a stew recipe, something you thought would be foolproof. Youâd stirred, added spices, tasted⊠but when you served it, the look on Loganâs face was priceless.
He took a spoonful, eyebrows lifting as he held back a chuckle. âThis a new recipe?â
âOkay, I get itâitâs not great,â you sighed, laughing a little as you took a bite yourself. âAlright, yeah, maybe itâs terrible.â
Logan chuckled, setting his spoon down. âItâs not so bad. I mean⊠itâs got heart.â
You nudged him, rolling your eyes. âHeart doesnât mean itâs edible, Logan.â
âMaybe not,â he smirked, âbut Iâll still eat it.â He winked, lifting another spoonful as he pretended to struggle through the bowl, making you burst into laughter.
---
Late one night, Logan awoke from one of his nightmares. You knew, even before heâd fully come to, just by the way he stiffened beside you. He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, and you reached out, fingers brushing his shoulder.
âDo you want to talk about it?â you whispered.
He looked down at you, the muscles in his jaw tight. But after a moment, he nodded. âIt was a long time ago. Just old ghosts.â He paused, exhaling heavily. âThereâs been a lot of violence. Stuff⊠I donât ever want you to have to see.â
âI know youâve seen a lot,â you murmured, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. âBut you donât have to go through it alone, Logan. Not anymore.â
Loganâs hand covered yours, and he turned his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes soft but searching. âYouâve been more than I deserve, Y/N,â he said quietly.
Your heart twisted, and you reached up to cup his face. âLogan, I donât care what youâve done or where youâve been. All that matters is who you are now.â
He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. âThen Iâm one lucky man,â he whispered, his voice low.
He held you close that night, your presence calming the echoes of a past that seemed finally willing to rest, if only for a while.
---
One day you were trying to make something simple, roast chicken and potatoes before Logan got back from work. You diligently checked the oven, making sure that nothing was burning, until Logan came home, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood up from the oven.
Loganâs hands settled warmly around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he looked over at the oven. The familiar, steady weight of him grounded you, even as you felt your heart give a quick little skip at the simple, domestic gesture.
âSmells good in here,â he murmured, his breath brushing your ear as he took in the scent of roasting chicken and herbs. âDidnât know you were this fancy in the kitchen.â
You let out a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. âFancy might be a stretch. Iâm just hoping it doesnât come out dry.â
His arms tightened just a bit, pulling you closer. âEven if it did, Iâd still eat it,â he said, a hint of that playful glint in his voice. âMeans a lot, havinâ you here. Feels like⊠home.â
A warmth rose in your chest, one that went beyond the physical, and you leaned back into him, a smile tugging at your lips. âYou know, I could get used to this too.â You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. âLong days, quiet dinners, just us.â
âUs,â he echoed, his voice softer, thoughtful. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something unspoken yet weighty. His thumb brushed small, slow circles along your hip, as if anchoring himself in the moment, and he gave you a slight smile that didnât quite mask the intensity behind it.
Logan was quiet for a moment, and you felt a shift in his posture, almost like he wanted to say something but was holding back. He looked at you in that way he sometimes didâlike he was seeing more than just you standing there in your small, cozy kitchen. Maybe he was seeing all the days stretching ahead, those simple moments youâd have together, and the weight of that left him speechless.
âLogan?â you asked, brushing a hand along his arm.
He blinked, then smiled, the intensity in his gaze easing back into something gentler. âNothinâ. Just thinkinâ how lucky I am.â
You laughed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. âGuess that makes two of us.â
The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence, with just the faint hum of the oven and the quiet, steady beat of Loganâs heart against your back. In the quiet of your little life together, things felt simple, natural. Here, there were no expectations, no obligationsâjust the two of you, building something real out of those little, ordinary moments.
But later that night, as you drifted off beside him, Logan stayed awake, lost in thought. His hand brushed over the small velvet box in his drawer, the ring that had waited all this time, the one that had been meant for you once before. He ran his thumb along the edge, thinking about when the right time might beâor if heâd even have the chance. For now, though, heâd savor each day, each quiet moment, holding on as tightly as he could.
---
You lay nestled between Loganâs legs on the couch, your head resting comfortably on his chest as you read, while he watched TV, idly sipping his beer. His free hand drifted up and down your arm absentmindedly, and you could feel the faint rumble of his quiet breaths beneath you. There was a calm in the cabin tonightâa peace youâd found only since being with him.
âWhatâs got you so hooked?â he asked, glancing down at your book with a smirk. âLooks like youâre deep in it.â
You tilted the book so he could see the cover, Jaws. âItâs a book about a shark.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, âa shark, huh?â
You turned back to the book, keeping a small smile hidden. âKind of. Itâs a little deeper than just a shark, though.â
âDeeper than a shark, huh?â Logan smirked, shifting slightly to glance down at you, looking mildly amused. âDidnât think a fish story could be that interesting.â
âItâs not just any fish, Logan,â you said, letting your hand rest on his as you settled back into his warmth. âThis sharkâs on a whole other levelâa menace, basically unstoppable. And thereâs all this tension between the people in the town, like whoâs responsible, what to do, whether they even believe itâs happening.â
He gave a soft grunt of understanding, taking a sip of his beer. âGuess I can see why youâre hooked. Townsfolk fighting over a monster they canât get rid of⊠kinda familiar.â
You tilted your head to look up at him, a glint of curiosity in your eyes. âYou got experience with monsters, Logan?â
âMore than youâd believe, darlinâ,â he murmured, his eyes holding that far-off look he sometimes got when his mind slipped somewhere else, somewhere harder. But his grip on you stayed gentle, grounding him here.
There was a momentâs quiet, then he smirked, leaning down closer. âBut I could take out your shark, no question.â
âOh, really?â you teased, closing the book and giving him a look of mock skepticism. âA great white shark, Logan. One that can bite clean through a boat. I think even youâd have some trouble with that one.â
He snorted, giving you an exaggerated look of disbelief. âIâm tellinâ ya, Iâd have it done in five minutes.â
You laughed, poking his chest. âIâd like to see that. You, in the water, with a shark. Youâd probably scare it off.â
âProbably,â he chuckled, his tone playful but carrying a hint of something genuine. âBut Iâd do it for you.â
His words caught you off guard, softening the teasing banter into something warmer, something real. You looked up at him, and the light in his eyes held a familiar steadiness, a promise you hadnât expected. You felt a smile creeping up, one that made your heart beat a little faster.
âThatâs sweet of you, Logan. But donât go risking your life over a shark.â
He shrugged, giving a small grin. âRisking my lifeâs kinda my thing.â
With a smirk, you shifted to put your arms around his neck. âI donât need you to fight any sharks. I just need you here, safe, preferably not trying to tackle any more sea monsters.â
Loganâs hands came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek. âDonât worry, darlinâ. For you, Iâd stay outta trouble⊠or at least, try.â
Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly. You melted into him, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath you, the steady beat of his heart, a promise in every kiss, every touch.
When you pulled back, he let out a small sigh, looking at you with a softness that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.
âNow,â you murmured, your voice quiet as you tried to keep the mood light, âhow about you let me finish reading this book before you start making any plans to fight sharks?â
âFine,â he chuckled, leaning back into the couch, his arms still loosely around you. âBut Iâm just sayinâ, the offer stands.â
You rolled your eyes, shifting back to lean against his chest, your book in hand. But even as you returned to the words on the page, the comfortable silence between you filled every corner of the cabin, your heart warmed by the man beside you.
---
When Logan came home and removed his jacket, the sound of music drifted to his ears, mingling with the low hum of a vacuum. The cabin was warm, a sharp contrast to the biting chill outside, the smell of pine and faint wood smoke greeting him like an old friend. The soft glow of late afternoon sun streaked through the windows, and as he stepped further in, he caught sight of you.
You were standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, wearing one of his old flannels that hung loose on your frame, the hem brushing just below the tops of your thighs. The vacuum roared in your hand as you cleaned, entirely oblivious to his arrival.
Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you. Something about thisâa simple domestic sceneâmade his chest tighten, a warmth blooming there that he couldnât quite name.
âYâknow, youâre not supposed to wear clothes that fit me better than they fit you,â he drawled, his voice cutting through the vacuumâs roar.
Startled, you turned it off with a quick flick of the switch and looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face. âLogan! You scared me,â you said.
âDidnât mean to,â he replied, his tone warm as he pushed off the frame and walked toward you. His boots thudded softly against the wooden floor, and as he got closer, his eyes drank you in, lingering on the way the flannel gaped slightly at the neck, exposing the soft line of your collarbone. âGot a habit of sneakinâ up, I guess.â
You laughed softly, setting the vacuum aside. âIf you were a little less loud, Iâd think you were some kind of predator.â
âOh, darlinâ,â he said, his grin spreading as he reached for you, hands settling at your waist and pulling you close, âif I wanted to catch you, you wouldnât stand a chance.â
Your breath hitched as his words settled between you, his voice a low rumble that always managed to make your knees feel just a little weaker. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the solidness of him beneath your palms. âGood thing Iâm not running then,â you murmured, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.
He leaned down, his nose brushing yours. âGood thing,â he echoed, before his lips claimed yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands slid lower, fingers splaying over the curve of your hips, pulling you tighter against him. The flannel you wore rose slightly under his touch, and you gasped softly into his mouth as his fingers found bare skin.
âLogan,â you breathed against his lips, your voice a soft plea.
âYeah?â he rasped, his mouth trailing down your jawline, his scruff brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine.
âThink you should let me finish cleaning,â you teased, though your hands had already slid up to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the dark strands at the base of his skull.
He huffed a laugh, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your throat. âNah, think I got a better idea.â
With a swift move, he bent and swept you off your feet, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. You let out a startled laugh, clinging to him as he carried you toward the couch. âLogan, the vacuumââ
âVacuumâll be there later,â he cut in, his voice gruff but tinged with amusement. âRight now, youâre the only thing Iâm worried about.â
He set you down gently on the cushions, his large frame hovering over you as he knelt on the floor, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the flannel higher. The intensity in his gaze sent a flush rising to your cheeks, your heart pounding in anticipation.
âBeen thinkinâ about you all day,â he admitted, his voice thick, raw. His hands paused, fingers curling just under the hem of the shirt. âMind if I show you how much?â
You nodded, breathless, and he smiledâa rare, almost boyish expression that quickly dissolved into something darker, hungrier. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt about where his mind was. His hands roamed freely now, skimming along the curve of your thighs, pushing the flannel higher and higher, exposing bare skin to the cool air of the room.
âGoddamn,â Logan muttered against your lips, his voice thick, raw. His hands splayed across your thighs, gripping them as though grounding himself, his thumbs brushing along the tender skin there. âYouâre a fuckinâ dream, darlinâ.â
A shiver ran through you, anticipation building as his kisses trailed lower, down your jaw, your neck, leaving a path of warm, open-mouthed caresses. You gasped softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he moved further down, sinking to his knees before you, his broad shoulders nudging your legs apart.
"Logan..." Your voice was barely more than a whisper, already trembling.
âShh,â he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed a kiss just above your knee, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The intensity there made your breath hitch. âLet me take care of you.â
He kissed his way up your inner thigh, taking his time, each press of his lips deliberate, teasing. Your heart pounded as you felt his warm breath against your skin, so close to where you wanted him, needed him.
When his lips finally brushed against you, his tongue darting out to taste, you couldnât suppress the soft moan that spilled from your lips. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer as he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue working you with an expertise that made your head spin.
âFuck,â you gasped, your hands clutching his hair, your hips arching into him. He didnât stop, didnât let up, his tongue delving deep before retreating to flick against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you trembling, your thighs pressing around his head.
Logan growled against you, the vibrations shooting straight through your core, and the sound of itârough, primalâonly spurred you on. He was relentless, his lips and tongue working you with a fervor that left no doubt about how much he enjoyed this, enjoyed you.
âLogan, Iââ Your words dissolved into a whimper, your body tensing as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His name was a mantra on your lips, each syllable punctuated by gasps and moans as he pulled you apart and put you back together with every stroke of his tongue.
When you finally shattered, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave, he didnât stop. He worked you through it, his hands holding you steady as you trembled, as your body arched and writhed against him. Only when you were completely spent, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you with a wicked grin.
âYou taste like heaven,â he said, his voice rough, gravelly, as he rose to his feet, his hands still resting on your thighs. âI could do that all night.â
You laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the couch, your body still tingling, your cheeks flushed. âYouâre insatiable.â
âSays the woman who was just begginâ me for more,â Logan teased, his voice a low rumble as his lips brushed against yours. His kiss was slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own release sent a thrill racing through you, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, keeping him close.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. âYou sure youâre not tryinâ to kill me, darlinâ? Feels like every time I get my hands on you, I lose a few more pieces of myself.â
Your lips curved into a soft smile, your fingers idly playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. âThat doesnât sound like such a bad thing.â
Logan huffed a laugh, the sound deep and almost self-deprecating. His thumb traced lazy circles on your thigh, his gaze locked on yours. âFor you, maybe not. For me? Iâm startinâ to think I wouldnât mind it.â
The weight of his words hung in the air, a quiet confession that made your chest tighten. You reached up, brushing your thumb along the rough edge of his jaw. âI wouldnât let that happen,â you murmured, your voice soft but steady. âYouâre too important, Logan. To me.â
His expression softened, the hard edges of his usual demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. âYouâve got no idea what you do to me, Y/N.â
âMaybe you should show me,â you said, your voice carrying a teasing lilt, though the heat in your eyes betrayed how serious you were.
Loganâs lips quirked into a small, almost mischievous grin. âYouâre insatiable, you know that?â
You shrugged, feigning innocence. âMaybe. But you donât seem to mind.â
He let out a low growl, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips. âYouâre damn right I donât.â
In one fluid motion, Logan had you lifted, his hands firm as he repositioned you to straddle his lap. You let out a surprised laugh, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself as you settled against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, the solidness of him grounding you in a way that felt almost necessary.
âSee? Told ya I had better plans than cleaninâ,â he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke.
You tilted your head, giving him more access, a soft hum escaping your lips. âI think Iâm starting to agree.â
Loganâs hands roamed over you, calloused fingers exploring the soft curves of your body with reverence. There was no rush, no urgency in his movements. It was deliberate, almost tender, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of you.
His lips trailed a path along your neck, his scruff scraping against your skin in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine. âYou drive me fuckinâ crazy,â he admitted, his voice low, almost like a growl.
âI could say the same about you,â you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his shirt.
Loganâs hands gripped the hem of the flannel you wore, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he slowly lifted it. He paused, his gaze flicking up to meet yours, seeking permission.
You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, taking in the sight of your bare skin bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.
âGoddamn,â he muttered, his voice thick with something between awe and hunger.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but the look in his eyes kept any hint of self-consciousness at bay. âYouâre staring,â you teased, though your voice wavered slightly under the weight of his gaze.
âCanât help it,â he said simply, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath your ribs. âYouâre fuckinâ beautiful, Y/N. Donât think Iâll ever get tired of lookinâ at you.â
The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was slow and deep, your hands threading through his hair as you pressed yourself against him.
Loganâs hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he shifted beneath you, the hard press of him against your core drawing a soft gasp from your lips. He swallowed the sound with a groan, his grip tightening as he began to rock you against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure racing through you.
âLogan,â you breathed, your voice trembling with need.
âShh, I got you,â he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. âJust let me take care of you, darlinâ.â
His hands moved to your waist, guiding your movements as he kissed you again, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate slowness that left you breathless. Each roll of your hips against him was maddeningly slow, the steady build of tension making you ache for more.
âLogan, please,â you whispered, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you tried to quicken the pace.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. âPatience, Y/N. Iâm not in a rush.â
You huffed in frustration, though the warmth in his gaze softened the sharp edges of your need. âYouâre cruel,â you muttered, though the slight smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.
âCruel, huh?â he echoed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hands slid down to cup your ass, squeezing gently as he shifted beneath you. âPretty sure youâll be thankinâ me when Iâm done with you.â
You couldnât help but laugh softly, the sound dissolving into a soft moan as he bucked his hips against you, the friction sending another wave of heat coursing through you.
âLogan,â you gasped, your voice a mix of exasperation and longing.
He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. âYeah, darlinâ? What do you need?â
âYou,â you said simply, the single word carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air between you.
Loganâs expression softened, his teasing demeanor shifting as something deeper flickered in his gaze. âYouâve got me,â he said, his voice steady, his hands firm on your hips as though anchoring you to him.
Your heart stuttered at his words, the raw sincerity of them making your chest feel impossibly tight. You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his as your fingers slid down his chest, the fabric of his shirt rough under your touch. âIâm glad,â you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Loganâs lips found yours again, the kiss unhurried and deliberate, his hands roaming up and down your thighs. The heat of him seeped into your skin, grounding you as you moved against him. The friction was maddening, a slow burn that made you ache for more.
âDarlinâ,â he rasped against your lips, his voice thick and strained, âyouâre makinâ it real hard to take this slow.â
âMaybe I donât want slow,â you countered, your tone teasing, though the way your breath hitched betrayed your own urgency.
Logan chuckled low, the sound vibrating through you as his lips moved to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin. âTrust me, you do,â he murmured, his teeth grazing your pulse point just enough to make your thighs tighten around him. âI want to feel every second of this.â
His words sent a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening in his hair as he took his time exploring every inch of you. Loganâs hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you slightly as he shifted on the couch, settling back further into the cushions.
The new angle pressed you more firmly against him, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallowed with another kiss. âFuck,â you whispered, your hands clutching at his shoulders.
âYou okay?â he asked, his tone softer, though the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
âMore than okay,â you replied, your voice trembling as you shifted your hips, testing the pressure between you.
Logan growled low in his throat, his grip on you tightening as his hands slid up your back. âYouâre somethinâ else, Y/N,â he said, his words heavy with reverence.
You didnât reply, too caught up in the way he was looking at you, as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. âOff,â you said simply, your voice breathless but firm.
He smirked, obliging without hesitation as he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Your eyes raked over him, taking in the broad expanse of his chest, the scars that marred his otherwise flawless skin.
âLike what you see?â he teased, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his tone.
âAlways,â you replied, your hands trailing over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of old wounds. âYouâre beautiful, Logan.â
He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands sliding back to your waist. âDonât think anyoneâs called me that before.â
âWell, they should have,â you said, leaning in to press a kiss to his collarbone.
Loganâs hands tightened on your hips, guiding you as you moved against him, the steady grind of your bodies making your head spin. âYouâre gonna be the death of me,â he muttered, though the words were laced with affection.
âNot likely,â you quipped, a soft laugh escaping you.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shifted again, one hand moving to undo the button of his jeans. Your breath hitched as you realized what was coming next, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach.
âYou sure about this?â he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze searching yours.
âLogan,â you said, your tone steady despite the way your heart was racing. âIâve never been more sure about anything.â
He nodded once, his hands steady as he slid his jeans down just enough, freeing himself. You couldnât help the soft gasp that escaped you as you took him in, your cheeks flushing at the sight.
âCome here,â he said, his voice rough as he guided you closer, his hands firm on your hips.
You moved slowly, adjusting yourself over him, the heat of him against you making you tremble. Loganâs hands were steady, his thumbs brushing soothing circles on your skin as he guided you.
When you finally sank down onto him, the feeling was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that made you moan softly. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as his hands gripped your hips tightly.
âFuck, Y/N,â he rasped, his voice raw. âYou feel... Jesus, darlinâ, youâre perfect.â
You didnât reply, too caught up in the way he felt, the way he filled you completely. You braced your hands on his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as you began to move.
Loganâs hands guided your movements, his grip firm but not controlling as he let you set the pace. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming as you rocked against him, your bodies moving in perfect sync.
The steady rhythm built slowly, the intensity growing with each roll of your hips. Loganâs hands roamed over you, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, grounding you in the moment.
âY/N,â he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
You met his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at you. It wasnât just lustâit was something deeper, something that made your chest ache in the best way.
âIâve got you,â he said, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrust upward, matching your movements.
The new angle sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, a soft cry escaping your lips as you clung to him. âLogan,â you gasped, your voice trembling.
âRight here, darlinâ,â he murmured, his voice steady despite the strain in it.
The intensity between you grew, the slow, deliberate pace giving way to something more urgent as your bodies moved together. Each thrust, each kiss, each touch pushed you closer to the edge, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak.
When you finally shattered, it was like nothing youâd ever felt before. Logan held you through it, his hands steady on your hips as your body trembled, his name falling from your lips in a breathless mantra.
He followed moments later, a low, guttural groan escaping him as he buried his face in your neck, his grip on you tightening as he found his release.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths mingling as you clung to each other, the world outside forgotten.
âYou okay?â Logan asked finally, his voice soft, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.
âMore than okay,â you replied, your voice muffled against his neck.
He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. âGood. âCause Iâm not lettinâ you go anytime soon.â
âDidnât plan on going anywhere,â you said, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned back to look at him.
Loganâs expression softened, his hands moving to cup your face. âYouâre somethinâ else, Y/N,â he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence.
âAnd youâre mine,â you replied, your tone steady despite the warmth spreading through your chest.
âDamn right I am,â he said, his lips curving into a small, almost boyish grin.
The two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, the rest of the world fading away. For now, there was only thisâonly him.
---
You turned off the water that was filling the bathtub and dipped your hand in to test the temperature of the water. The water was just rightâhot, with steam gently rolling off the surface. You stood, wiping your hands on the towel, just as you heard the front door creak open and close with a soft click. Loganâs footsteps padded quietly through the cabin, but you could still feel that familiar presence, that comforting weight of him even when he wasnât yet in sight.
You barely had time to turn around before he appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you standing by the tub. âNow this is a surprise,â he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
âThought youâd like a soak after all that work you did today,â you replied, a little smile tugging at your mouth. You stepped aside, gesturing toward the water. âGo on, itâs ready.â
Loganâs gaze softened, though his smirk never quite faded. âSo youâre spoilinâ me now, huh?â
âMaybe a little,â you teased, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him. âCanât have you overdoing it. You might be practically indestructible, but a hot bath never hurt anyone.â
He chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off. âGot a point there,â he admitted, tossing it onto the nearby chair. You tried not to stare, but you couldnât help your eyes drifting over the familiar planes of his chest, scars crisscrossing his skin like a map of all the years heâd survived. He didnât seem to noticeâor maybe he didnât mindâjust kept undressing as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Logan stepped into the tub, easing himself down with a contented sigh as he settled into the water. He leaned his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as the steam rose around him. For a moment, you simply watched him, a fond smile on your lips.
âGood?â you asked softly, breaking the silence.
He cracked one eye open, glancing at you with a lazy grin. âBetter than good. You joininâ me?â
You laughed, shaking your head. âThis oneâs all yours. Iâll go make us something to drink.â
Before you could turn, Logan reached out, his wet hand catching yours. He looked up at you, his expression softer now. âStay, darlinâ. Least for a bit.â
His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, and you found yourself nodding, unable to refuse him. You sat down beside the tub, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of the water, and he let his hand rest in yours.
Logan kissed the top of your hand, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Sure ya donât wanna join me? Promise I donât bite."
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say."
He chuckled, his fingers still wrapped gently around yours, as if he was savoring this quiet moment between you. âCould use a little company, thatâs all,â he murmured, his gaze never leaving your face.
âThis is supposed to be a bath for you.â You replied, your own eyebrow quirked.
âIâd enjoy it more if you were in here with me.â
You raised an eyebrow at Logan, the corner of your mouth quirking into a teasing smile. âIs that right? Well, maybe if youâre lucky.â
Loganâs smirk deepened, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the side of the tub. âOh, come on. Iâm always lucky when it comes to you.â His voice was a low murmur, pulling you in with that familiar, lazy charm he always seemed to have.
âUh-huh, says the guy who tried to convince me he could take on a shark,â you shot back, crossing your arms, leaning casually against the wall. âYouâre just full of bold ideas, huh?â
He chuckled, giving a shrug. âI stand by that. But Iâm talkinâ serious here.â His hand reached out, fingertips grazing your wrist in a way that sent a warmth through you. âNo sharks, no messinâ around. Just you, right here.â
The sincerity caught you a little off guard. The tension settled into something deeper as you looked at him, his hand steady on yours, like he was holding onto more than just the moment.
âI guess⊠I could keep you company,â you said softly, the lightness of your earlier words giving way to something quieter. You slipped out of your shirt, feeling Loganâs gaze follow you, his eyes dark with a warmth that made you feel both nervous and excited.
Sliding into the water, you settled in close to him, leaning back as his arms naturally came around you. The water was hot, relaxing every part of you, but it was Loganâs touch, the gentle press of his fingers tracing over your arm, that made you feel completely at ease.
âSee?â he murmured against your hair, his lips grazing the top of your head. âTold ya this was a good idea.â
You hummed, closing your eyes as you leaned into him. âYou did. Guess I should listen to you more often.â
Loganâs hand slid along your shoulder, trailing down your arm with a steady, careful touch, like he was trying to memorize every inch. You felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, followed by the soft press of his lips just below your ear. The tension of the day melted away, leaving you relaxed and content in his embrace.
For a few moments, you both just stayed there, the only sounds the quiet rustle of water and the occasional creak of the cabin settling. Loganâs fingers traced small, lazy circles along your arm, his other hand holding you close against him, anchoring you to him like he was afraid youâd disappear if he let go.
âSo,â you murmured, breaking the silence, âthis isnât so bad, right?â
Logan let out a low chuckle. âCould get used to it,â he said, his voice rumbling against your back. âPeace and quiet. Just the two of us.â His hand dipped below the water, wrapping around yours.
You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. âThought youâd be the type to get bored out here, all this peace and quiet.â
He gave a noncommittal shrug, though his thumb continued to brush over the back of your hand. âCan handle a bit of quiet if it means youâre here,â he said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself.
You smiled, tilting your head to look at him, your faces close. âGuess that makes two of us.â You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, the weight of those unspoken words lingering between you both.
Loganâs eyes flicked down to your lips, his gaze soft and intent. âYou gonna kiss me, or do I gotta ask real nice?â
âAlways so impatient,â you teased, but you leaned in, closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. His hand moved up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepened the kiss, slow and unhurried, like he was savoring every second. When you finally pulled back, you were both breathing a little heavier, your forehead resting against his.
Logan looked at you, a small, crooked smile on his lips. âSee? Worth the wait.â
You laughed, shaking your head, but there was no denying the truth in his words. âYou really know how to charm a girl, you know that?â
âOnly got one girl Iâm tryinâ to charm,â he replied, his voice rough but warm.
Your smile softened as you nestled back against him, letting the silence settle over you both once more. The warmth of the water, the feel of his arms around youâit felt like a small eternity in that moment, like nothing else in the world mattered except this.
---
Trying to turn the conversation away from what Logan told you, about Stryker coming to visit him about a âmissionâ, you started to talk about your day, with Loganâs head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair.
âThe stray was matted but Tina started calling him Wolf. Said the dog reminded her of another animal.â
Logan hummed, his eyes still closed, âlemme guess, she showed you a picture of the animal from her book.â
You giggled, âyeah, she did. Gotta admit that dog looked quite similar to the wolverine in her book.â You tilted your head downwards to look at him, âReminded me of you. Grizzly, sometimes dirty.â
Logan opened one eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. âOh yeah? Grizzly, huh?â
âMaybe a little.â You grinned, your fingers drifting through his hair in slow strokes. âNot just the dirty part, by the way. Wolverines are pretty fierce, donât let much stand in their way.â
He let out a low chuckle, closing his eye again, seeming to relax further under your touch. âGuess Iâll take that as a compliment, cominâ from you.â There was a slight pause, and his voice softened a bit. âNot everyoneâs a fan of the grizzly type.â
You scoffed lightly, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. âWell, good thing I am. You know, even wolverines have a soft side somewhere.â
Logan huffed a small laugh. âYeah? Donât think Iâve got much of that left, but Iâll take your word for it.â
âOh, you definitely do.â You brushed a thumb gently along his temple. âTrust me. Like todayâtaking the time to help out with that old coupleâs truck, even after a full dayâs work.â You smiled down at him, admiration clear in your gaze. âI see it, Logan, even if you donât.â
He tilted his head a bit, opening his eyes and looking up at you, his expression unreadable for a second before he sighed, a smirk breaking the moment. âKeep sayinâ things like that, and I might start to believe you.â
You laughed, rolling your eyes. âIâve got plenty more where that came from.â
Loganâs gaze softened, but he kept his usual, laid-back tone. âGuess Iâm lucky you put up with me, huh?â
âYou know it.â You winked, letting your fingers trail down to his jawline, and you felt him relax a little more, like he could melt under your touch. âPlus, someoneâs gotta keep you in check.â
âNot an easy job,â he muttered, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he leaned into your hand, his voice barely above a murmur. âYouâre somethinâ else, Y/N.â
The two of you fell quiet for a moment, the warmth in his gaze making your heart beat just a little faster, and you couldnât help but lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. When you pulled back, he just looked at you with that familiar mix of amusement and something elseâa depth you didnât need him to explain.
You shifted slightly, a small smile still on your face. âNow, about that dogâthink you could convince Tina to bring him around here?â
Loganâs eyebrows lifted, a smirk tugging at his lips again. âBringing a stray mutt up here? You sure?â
âWhy not? Heâd be a good watch dog for you when Iâm not around,â you said, with a wink.
He chuckled, a bit softer this time. âGuess Iâll think about it.â Then, his eyes crinkled with that familiar spark of humor. âBut only if you promise not to call me Grizzly in front of anyone else.â
You laughed, leaning back against the couch, his head still in your lap. âDeal.â
For a few minutes, neither of you spoke, and you just let yourself soak up the comfortable silence, the simplicity of Logan resting there, perfectly at ease. And as your hand drifted gently through his hair again, you couldnât help but wonder if thisâthese quiet momentsâmight be what youâd both been needing all along.
---
You were driving down a narrow road, the trees thickening as you made your way toward town. The familiar hum of a cassette player filled the car, and you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm. It had been a good weekâa small but sweet milestone with Logan, half a year together, and youâd even managed to keep things peaceful in that cabin of his. Tonight was supposed to be simple, a little surprise youâd planned: a tiramisu. Probably the only thing you could bake to perfection.
You rounded a curve, smiling to yourself whenâ
The sight in the distance made your stomach twist. A figure stood in the middle of the road, dressed in black, unmoving, watching you with an unsettling focus. You slowed the car, blinking to see if you were imagining things. But noâhe was still there, large and unflinching in the middle of the narrow path.
As you approached, your heart hammered against your ribs. Something about him was familiar, but not in any way that felt safe or warm.
You pressed on the brake, bringing the car to a cautious stop. The man took a slow, deliberate step forward, his face coming into view under the faint sunlight streaming through the trees. His eyes were cold, almost amused, and his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
It was himâVictor. The man Logan had mentioned a few times, enough to make you know he wasnât someone youâd ever want to meet, much less find waiting for you like this.
âGoing somewhere?â he asked, his voice deep, mocking, and calm in a way that was anything but reassuring.
You tried to keep your face calm, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. âJust heading into town,â you replied, voice steadier than you felt. âIs thereâŠsomething you need?â
He tilted his head, like he was sizing you up. âLogan ever mention me?â
A chill crawled up your spine, but you kept your expression guarded. âMaybe once or twice.â
Victor took another step forward, his gaze raking over you with a twisted curiosity, almost like he was toying with the idea of letting you goâbut only almost. âSee, Iâve been meaning to have a little chat with him,â he drawled, his tone venomous, âand here you are, just making it easy for me.â
You felt a pulse of dread, instinct telling you to turn the car around and get out of there, fast. But you knew better than to provoke him. âLoganâs not here,â you said, hoping that would be enough.
He smirked, that same cold expression never leaving his face. âIâm aware,â he murmured, taking another slow step toward you. âYou think heâd leave someone like you on your own if he thought youâd be safe?â
Your heart raced, a knot of fear tightening in your throat. You wanted to say something, anything, to stall him, to get yourself out of this, but nothing came to mind. The realization was dawning, and from the look in Victorâs eyes, he knew it too. There would be no bargaining, no reasoning with him.
"Didn't think Logan would be the type to leave someone behind. Guess I was wrong," he said, sounding amused.
You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, refusing to give in to the fear swirling in your chest. "Loganâs not here," you repeated, your voice firm.
"Like I said, I know," Victor replied smoothly, taking another step. His eyes traveled over the car, then over you, a twisted curiosity behind them. "But I figure, maybe you can pass along a little message for me."
Every instinct told you to run, but the car blocked you in, and Victor was only feet away. "What do you want, Victor?"
He grinned, his sharp teeth glinting under the dim light. "Simple. Tell Logan I said 'hi'... if you get the chance."
The dread in your stomach crystallized as he lunged forward. You tried to move, to react, but he was too fast. His hand closed around your throat, lifting you out of the car as though you weighed nothing, and you fought, kicking, clawing, anything you could think of to get free.
"You know," Victorâs voice was disturbingly calm, "heâs been through a lot. But thereâs always that soft spot, that weakness he canât seem to shake."
Desperation flared within you, and you kicked harder, one foot making contact with his chest. It only made him laugh, and he tightened his grip, his face drawing close enough that you could see the cold cruelty in his eyes.
"Youâre just like all the others," he murmured, voice almost thoughtful. "Maybe a little more stubborn, but thatâs hardly new."
Black spots began to dance at the edges of your vision, your breath coming shorter and shorter. You knew there was no getting out of thisânot with him, not with a monster like Victor Creed.
But Logan...
---
Logan walked through the vegetation right by where he and the other guys were cutting apart a tree. He stopped short once he saw the head of an animal laying on the yellow grass.
âWhat you doing, Logan?â One of the guys asked from behind.
Logan looked around before seeing large scratch marks on a tree trunk, lined with red. âY/N.â He whispered, before running down the hill and through the forest.
Once he hit the clearing, he could see the truck on the side of the road. Logan reached the car, his hands gripping the window frame as he scanned the empty interior. âY/NâŠ?â His voice was rough, the crack of worry breaking through, echoing in the quiet forest.
His eyes darted down to the disturbed earth, faint scuff marks in the dirt telling him where you mightâve been dragged. His heart hammered as he followed the path into the trees, every step growing heavier with dread as he moved through the dense underbrush, the silence unsettling.
And then, in a small clearing, he found you.
You were lying there, so still, your skin pale against the forest floor, hair fanned around you like a dark halo. Blood flecked the ground, stark and terrible against the greenery. He staggered, dropping to his knees beside you, reaching out with trembling hands, one of them clenching briefly before he let himself touch you.
âY/NâŠâ he whispered, voice breaking as he cupped your face, his fingers brushing a smear of dirt from your cheek. Your eyes were closed, lips parted just slightly, as if youâd been trying to say his name. For a split second, he could almost pretend you were just asleep, and that any second youâd open your eyes, make some joke, or reach up to tug him down to you.
But there was no warmth, no spark, nothing.
Loganâs breath caught, and he pulled you close, his arms cradling you as if he could shield you from the reality already etched into his heart. The rage simmered below his skin, burning through the grief, fueling the ache with something primal. He rocked back, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his face buried in your hair, trying to hold on to any last trace of you, the faint scent of you still lingering, even as everything around him felt like it was falling apart.
âYou⊠You were supposed to be safe here,â he whispered against your hair, voice hoarse. âI shoulda been here. I shouldaâŠâ His words trailed off into silence as he sat there, unmoving, clutching you in his arms as if the weight of his grief alone could pull you back.
He looked down at you, his thumb grazing over your cheek one last time, as though trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. âY/N⊠I swear⊠Iâll make him pay.â The last words came out like a promise, a vow laced with the kind of anger only a man like Logan could bear. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before letting out a long, broken breath.
When he finally tore his gaze away from you, his eyes turned cold, a new resolve searing through him.
This wasnât over.
umm... sorry??
i tried to make a different version of how logan got the name 'wolverine' to try and fit reader's personality, since she probably doesn't know about the myth kayla did.
next chapter will be x2!
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#i love you in every time
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'You were important'
Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader
9.5k words
cw: Minor use of y/n, fluff, swearing, mentions of Walburgaâs great parenting, hurt/comfort, swearingÂ
Youâre not exactly sure when you first met Sirius. You both came from unhappy homes. His was just empty of love in general; his parents, cold and disconnected, held impossible expectations of him. Yours was a broken love; parents that had onced loved each other but only stayed together out of obligation to you. You knew your parents tried to hide their growing distaste for each other from you, but they were bad at it. Their arguments filled the house almost nightly.
Your friendship with Sirius was born out of literal escapism. You had taken to going to the park near your house whenever you couldnât take being in the house anymore. At one point, the curly haired boy started showing up and youâd sit on the swings together. It wasnât until a while later that you actually talked to him. And the two of you became friends, disparaging your parents together.Â
âSome people just shouldnât be parents,â you had said to him once.Â
He agreed. The two of you made your own fun as two unsupervised kids did: he liked to break things and you liked to set things on fire. You werenât always causing trouble, sometimes opting to go exploring down every alley within the surrounding neighborhoods. But at the end of the day, youâd always go back to your own homes. You could easily be described as best friends, despite not knowing his last name and he yours.Â
Your friendship hit what you thought would be a minor bump at the end of the summer after you both turned eleven. You were hanging out at your usual park, chatting at the swings like you always did. He told you that he had been enrolled in a boarding school. You stared at him, silent for a beat, but then you told him that you had been too.Â
âSo⊠Iâll see you at Christmas?â he asked.
âYeah. Donât go forgetting about me.â
âItâs just school. I wonât forget you.â
Little did you know that you would be going to the same school as him. You had managed to not see him on the platform, on the train nor on the boats. You didnât see him at all prior to the sorting ceremony.Â
âSirius Black.â
The dark curls you were all too familiar with walked up the steps to the tri-legged stool and the sorting hat was placed on his head.Â
After a few moments, it shouted, âGRYFFINDOR!â
The table of crimson and gold erupted into the cheers while the rest of the hall seemed to fill with whispers of uncertainty. You understood their whispers. You would have to have been a muggle to not know about the Black family. As you waited for your turn to be sorted, your mind spun with questions to ask him when you had the chance. How had he never mentioned his last name? How had there been no accidental magic between the two of you? Was everything he said about his parents true? What about the rumors about him? How come you had never seen his brother?
You were ripped out of your thoughts at the call of your name. You climbed the steps and took a seat on the stool for your sorting. You glanced over at him. He was staring at you with a white face. You were only given a singular moment of eye contact before the hat made its decision.
âSLYTHERIN!â
As you made your way to the green and silver table, you tried to find his eyes again, but he wouldnât look your way. And it stayed that way. For the whole first week, he wouldnât look at you and always made a point to not be near you, which wasnât difficult as he surrounded himself with his fellow Gryffindors. You didnât speak until he approached you in the library.Â
âHow are you here?â he whispered, pretending to look for a book in the same section as you. His voice made you jump.
âI could ask you the same thing,â you hissed back at him. âNever mentioned youâre a wizard.â
âYou didnât either.â
âTechnically, Iâm a witch. You never said your last name.â
âSome muggles know my family.â
Silence.Â
âWeâre going to pretend we donât know each other,â he said.Â
âWhat?â you asked, turning to face him despite him still not looking at you.Â
âYou donât know me. I donât know you.â
Then he grabbed a random book from the shelf and walked away. You watched him walk away in utter shock. How were you supposed to pretend you didnât know him?
Sirius took what he said to you very seriously. You were just another Slytherin to him, someone as bad as the rest of his pure-blood-obsessed family. You werenât friends anymore. Despite making your own friends, the semester felt lonely.
You had hope that over Christmas break heâd come to the park. The promise of seeing each other at Christmas was a spark of hope that lingered in your chest. A spark that was extinguished when he didnât appear at the park; you were there almost every day for several hours. It was then that you gave up on those years of friendship. Youâd have to learn to survive your parents without his company.Â
---
You wonder if he thought about you as much as you thought about him. You werenât friends anymore. You hadnât spoken in years except for minor interactions.
âExcuse me.â
âCan you pass the frog warts?â
âHere.âÂ
âCan I get through?â
âThanks.â
Yet Sirius still haunted your mind. You werenât friends. But you cared for him. And caring for him was a distraction from your own home life. You just couldnât show how much you cared for him in the normal ways, but it seemed as if fate knew that and gave you Regulus. Another boy who lived in the same house as Sirius with the same parents. You made it your mission to befriend him, letting him tell you details about his life and hiding how much you knew from Sirius. He didnât tell you much, nor did he ask much about you. You had a quiet mutual understanding with Regulus, and that was enough for you. It was that understanding that made you two best friends. His walls slowly came down when he was around you. You were easily the one he trusted the most at Hogwarts and he became yours. It was an easy friendship. You treasured that, even if it sometimes reminded you of what you had had with Sirius.Â
---
You had gotten used to being at the park by yourself. Sirius was never there anymore. You did a double take when you saw a boy with dark curly hair sitting on the swing. For a moment, you thought it was Sirius, but the hair was too short and not curly enough. His frame was thinner. Then it hit you. Regulus.Â
You sprinted up to him and stood in front of him. He was silently crying. You had known him long enough to recognize the signs without actually seeing his face; he was an expert at hiding it. You knew heâd rather die than have anyone see him cry.Â
âRegulus,â you breathe, kneeling down in front of him.
You hear his breath hitch and he looks up from his lap. The expression on his face makes you want to cry. It makes you want to hold him, using your grip to put his broken pieces back together. It hurts your soul to see him like this. The look changes from extreme hurt and sadness to confusion.
âHow are⊠how are you here?â he asks.
You reach out to hold his hands. He doesnât pull them away.
âDoesnât matter right now. Whatâs wrong? What happened?â
âSirius,â Regulus says, his voice tight. âHe ran away. I donât think heâs coming back.â
You press your lips into a thin line. Even based on what Regulus has told you, which didnât measure up to everything Sirius had ever told you, you know that him being alone in that house wasnât a good thing. You give his hands a squeeze, hoping it offers some kind of comfort.
âYouâre going to be okay.â Maybe if you speak it into existence, it will be true. âYouâre strong. Youâre resilient. Youâve done all you can to make your parents proud. They canâtâŠâ
He shakes his head before cutting you off. âThey donât have to be upset with me to be upset at me.â
âDo⊠do you know where he went?â
âIâm assuming the Potters.â
âDo you have somewhere to go?â
He blinks at you, emotion slowly draining from his face.
âI canât leave.â Itâs a firm statement.
âRegulus,â you say, almost pleading, but he just shakes his head again.
âI have to stay. I canât leave. I donât expect you to understand.â
âRegulus.â Your voice is softer, but your grip on his hands is stronger. âWhat if you had somewhere to go?â
He shakes his head again. âI told you. I have to stay⊠I should be getting back soon. Mother wonât be happy Iâve been gone so longâŠâ
âRegulus Arcturus Black,â you say, trying to hold his attention. He looks into your eyes and you can see all the pain heâs holding in. âI donât live far from here. My homeâs not much, but itâs better. Safer.â
âBetter? Safer?â he scoffs.Â
âI come here often. Iâll be here if you change your mind,â you say, knowing he wonât. He was too proud and too determined to survive without Sirius.Â
âIâll see you at school.â
You watch as he walks away and you just know that youâre going to have to piece him back together when the fall comes. From what you know Sirius endured, you know heâll need a careful hand.Â
---
Come the fall, you find you were right. Regulus was numb to the world. He was silent and emotionless as the rest of his friends greeted him, pulling him into the compartment where you were.Â
âRegulus,â you say as he sits next to you.
His back is pin-straight, like he couldnât even think about slouching. You reach out to touch his arm when he doesnât acknowledge you. When your hand touches his bicep, he turns to look at you and you see the sadness creep up into his face. You adjust how youâre sitting so you can pull him into you. He falls into your chest, not bothering to say anything and certainly not attempting to resist your touch.Â
âI should have listened,â he mumbles into your arm thatâs wrapped tightly around him.
âI know,â you whisper.Â
He stays in your arms for most of the ride to Hogwarts, getting more comfortable as time passes and he shifts to periodically participate in the conversation with Dorcas, Pandora, Evan and Barty. The more time he spends with the group, the more life gets breathed back into him. Itâs not much, but itâs something. By the time the train pulls into Hogsmeade Station, heïżœïżœs laughed once and thereâs a hint of a small spark of life in his eyes again. He throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side as you walk toward the carriages.
âThank you,â he whispers, his breath hot on your ear.
You turn to look up at him. âDonât be thanking me just yet, Reg.â
He chuckles softly.
âLove, you were somehow there when he left. That in itself is enough for me to be showering you in gratitude.â
âGoing soft on me, are you?â you laugh, leaning more into his side.Â
He rolls his eyes, a sign his old self is still there.Â
âI care for you. And Iâll be damned if I ever let you forget that.â
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. âI donât think I can.â
âGood.âÂ
You stay by his side all through dinner and all evening in the common room. You didnât let the boy out of your sight until you walked him to his dorm and he bid you goodnight. Once the door closes between you, you let your cheerful mask fall. You had tried to catch Siriusâ eyes during dinner but he seemed to look everywhere but the Slytherin table. It soured your mood, but you wouldnât let Regulus see that. You had to be strong and gentle for Regulus. For the Black that wouldnât fully push you out of his life. Not that you would give Regulus the option to do that.Â
You could feel Dorcas and Pandoraâs eyes on you as you stalk across the common room towards your dorm. You had been positively beaming when you walked away with Regulus and now, without him, you were scowling. They corner you in your dorm as you brush your hair, preparing for bed.
âSo, you and Black?â Pandora asks, her tone light.
âWhat do you mean, Dory?â you respond, looking at her in the mirrorâs reflection.Â
âSeemed cozy. Close. Almost like Evan and Junior,â Dorcas says.Â
You snort a laugh. âGod forbid a girl has a male friend. He had a rough summer and you know he trusts me.âÂ
âHe put his arm around you after you held him the entire way here,â Dorcas points out and Pandora nods in agreement. âThatâs something.â
âI assure you, itâs not.âÂ
---
With each passing day, you and Regulus spend every spare second together, as you had in previous years. Only this time, youâre making sure that he is okay and present. Itâs obvious to you every time he disappears into his mind. His eyes gloss over and any expression on his face dissipates into the numb expression he had when his parents dropped him off at Kings Cross. When you see him in passing, he has the look on his face and heâs more rigid than you had ever seen him previously. You know heâs just getting through the day and will relax once heâs back in the common room or library with you.Â
When heâs with you, you see his old self coming back, but there are still the effects of the summer without Sirius. Heâs more jumpy and paranoid. You catch him glancing over his shoulder, and your shoulder, periodically, like someone is going to walk up and attack them. He flinches when people raise their voices or a room gets too loud. You do your best to tell people to quiet down or find a believable excuse for you and Regulus to leave. It works well enough and Regulus always gives you a grateful smile.Â
Youâre not sure what possesses to check on Regulus a month or so into the term. You put on your robe before heading down to the common room. A hunched-over form scribbling away at one of the tables tells you that you donât need to go to the dorms to find Regulus. Heâs already up. You walk over to him, ensuring your steps make noise and going to sit across from him.
âWhat are you working on?â you whisper.
He still jumps at the sound of your voice.Â
âReworking a Charms essay.â
âDidnât I already proofread that for you? I thought it was done,â you ask, narrowing your eyes at the parchment.Â
âUh, yeah. It was finished. But it can be better. It needs to be better. I donât want to settle for an E. I want an O. Mother wants an O.âÂ
He looks back down at his essay and continues to write until you reach over the table to put your hand on his wrist.
âRegulus, youâre supposed to be sleeping. And the essay you already wrote was O material.â
âI wonât be able to sleep until itâs perfect.â
âIt is perfect.â
âThen more than perfect. It has to be better.â
âRegulus, look at me.â
He raises his eyes to look into yours. His grey eyes are bloodshot and his face pale.Â
âYou need to sleep. Itâs three in the morning.â
He shakes his head. âI wonât be able to sleep.â
âThe essay is-â you start to say.
âItâs not the essay,â he cuts you off and then sighs. âI dream of home when I sleep.â
âOh.â
Thereâs silence, except for the occasional crack or pop from the dying fire. Regulus stopped working on his essay. You try to think of a solution.
âWhat if⊠I stayed with you until you fell asleep?â
âYou should be sleeping too, though.â
âIâve gotten a few hours already,â you remind him.Â
âWhat if I dream of there again?â You can hear the fear in his voice and it breaks your heart.
âI can stay until morning, if you think your dormmates wonât mind,â you suggest. âI donât think Junior would mind, but I donât know about the others.â
At your offer, his eyes start pleading for you to do so.
âPlease stay.â
You nod, stand up and hold out your hand to him.
âCome on then. Letâs get you to bed.â
He quickly collects his items from the table and takes your hand. You lead him back to his own dorm. Regulus lights a small light before he gets ready for bed. The curtains of the other beds in the room are pulled closed, giving the boys their own privacy. You sat on the edge of the only empty bed, obviously Regulusâ with all of the House of Black monogrammed items. You didnât crawl under the covers until Regulus did. You let him get comfortable first before wrapping yourself around him.Â
âJust focus on my breathing, yeah?â
âAnd you wonât leave?â
âIâm not leaving until morning.â
Your presence in Regulusâ dorm becomes more common. He would let you know when he needed you there. Enchanted notes would fly into your dorm and wake you up if he woke up from a particularly horrid dream. You would be there in an instant, helping lull him back to sleep. Dorcas and Pandora said âI told you soâ when rumors of you and Regulus dating circled briefly. You shut them down quickly. Whether anyone actually believed you wasnât the point; it was that no one was talking about it. You did take pride in being scary when you needed to. You knew you had to split your focus between Regulus and lessons, not silly rumors.Â
Some days were better than others for Regulus. You knew it wasnât going to be all sunshine and roses, but it was nice when those days came along. And you made sure to be there when a day just went to shit. Things had been trending upward the further you got into the semester. You had been able to become less attached at the hip with Regulus. He had spent some evenings with Junior and Evan and some others that you didnât particularly care for. But he was opening up again to his other friends and that was good.Â
Then one of his enchanted notes flutters into your Potions class. Luckily, you are working in the back near the door so Slughorn doesnât notice the parchment fly in and land in front of you. You quickly read over the note and raise your hand.Â
âProfessor, may I use the loo?â
Slughorn looks a bit shocked at your interruption.
âYes. Go. Be quick if you can.â
You nod and hurry out of the room. You find Regulus in the alcove he had described. Heâs hugging his knees to his chest and visibility shaking. His face is hidden, but you know heâs been crying. You crouch next to him.
âHey,â you say softly.
He flinches but then lifts his head. You were right; tears were streaming down his face.Â
âWhat happened?âÂ
âI-I donât kn-know. There was a n-noise a-a-and something hit me. I c-couldnât breathe. I couldnât see. I-I just ran.â
You wrap your arms around him. You hold him for a few minutes in silence, except for his ragged breathing and sniffles. You rub circles on his back and arm where your hands rest.Â
âThank you for the note,â you whisper.Â
He nods. He doesnât know why youâre thanking him for it, but who else was he supposed to send for? Sirius?Â
After the rest of classes, you decide to skip dinner. While youâre sure that Regulus wouldâve benefitted from your presence, you needed to clear your head. You pace around the castle, corridor after corridor, floor after floor. You come across a door youâre unfamiliar with and you peer inside the room. Your face lights up at the piles of old broken crates. The room looked abandoned and youâre fairly certain youâve never come across this room before. You crack your neck and launch spells at the crates, making them explode and catch fire. There must be some sort of enchantment on the room because the piles of crates never end. You are able to go through what mustâve been hundreds of crates until you are tired. Your system feels momentarily cleared.Â
---
Regulus sending for you during class set something off in you. While you had been mad at Sirius for leaving Regulus alone, now you are furious. You know part of your anger is fueled by what Sirius did to you, just casually ending a years-old friendship and never truly acknowledging you again. You waited for the right time, rage boiling inside of you. You hid it from Regulus and the girls, but it was there. You knew it was there.Â
When the moment presented itself, you approached Sirius and his friends. They had claimed a shady area by the Black Lake and were lounging around. It was secluded enough that you felt no shame in the scene you knew you were about to throw. You had decided that Siriusâ decision that you werenât to acknowledge each other was done.Â
âWhat do you want?â Peter asks with a sharp tone. He is the first one to notice you.
At his question, the rest of the boys look up to see who was walking up to them. You notice a brief look of warning cross Siriusâ face.Â
âYou left him alone,â you say, trying to be firm and steady but it comes out accusingly. Youâre only looking at Sirius. You donât care for the rest of them right now.Â
Sirius blinks at you. His expression is unreadable, not giving you anything to go off of.
âYou two know each other?â Remus asks, sensing the tension youâre giving off.Â
âHow could you leave him alone? In that house with them?â
âPadfoot, whatâs she on about?â Peter asks. Heâs giving you a wary look.Â
You know Sirius understands exactly what youâre getting at.Â
âThis isnât the place,â he says coolly.Â
âYou left him behind and went to hide at the Potters,â you continue. You look at James briefly. âFull offense by the way.â
âOi, what?â James gasps.Â
âPadfoot, is she talking about-?â Remus starts to ask.
âRegulus? Yeah, I am.â You shoot Remus a soft smile before turning back to Sirius with the anger bubbling up within you. âAfter everything, I know they were horrible to you, but how could you leave him there alone? Did you see him when they dropped him off?â A dry laugh escapes your lips and your voice rises. âWait, of course not! You werenât there for him. I know you stood between them and him for years but suddenly disappearing? Thatâs so fucking cowardly, you dipshit. He wasnât prepared. He wasnât ready.â
âRegulus is an open book, isnât he?â Peter mumbles. âAiring the Blacksâ dirty laundry?â
You turn to Peter with a much more harsh look on your face. âI forgot that you all donât know.â You donât need to see Siriusâ face to know heâs giving you his own furious look of warning. One that says âDonât you dare.â âSirius and I go way back. At least we did until he became the family disgrace and I wasnât in the same house.â
âSod. Off,â Sirius says. All calmness that had been in his voice previously was gone. âThis isnât about you.â
âItâs fucking about me when Iâm the one putting him back together. When I was the one who found him. When I was the one who offered him somewhere safe. All because you left him.âÂ
âHeâs their golden boy. How bad could it be?â Peter asks, leaning back on his elbows as he stretches out.
âWormtail, you stay out of it,â Sirius warns.Â
âYou called him that.â
âBlack, you could learn a thing or two about loyalty. You got a wicked case of abandoning people who care for you. Boys,â you cast a glance around the group, âjust know itâs only a matter of time before he leaves you for dead because something better for him came up. Consider yourself warned.â
The boys watch as you stalk off toward the castle. You leave a thick silence in your wake. Once you are a safe distance away, the boys turn their glances to Sirius, who is fuming.Â
âSo Sirius?â Remus asks, his words cutting through the silence.Â
He didnât say anything, still staring in the direction you had gone.
âPadfoot,â James tries, âcare to explain what that was? Or even, who?â
When Sirius still doesnât say anything, Remus answers part of Jamesâ question. âY/N. Sheâs one of Regulusâ friends, I think. I see them around each other a lot. Slytherin, obviously.âÂ
âOkay, but she said she goes âway backâ with Pads, not Regulus,â Peter points out.
ïżœïżœYeah, because we do and they donât,â Sirius finally speaks up. âWe live⊠lived near each other. Met at a park when we were small. When being at home was too much.â
The others wait for him to say more. He doesnât, at least not willingly.Â
âAnd?â Remus pries. âWhat was all of that?â He gestures to the space where you had berated him.Â
âSuppose the result of mixing my moving in with James and her friendship with my brother.â
âOkay, and the bit of about loyalty?â James asks. âLike, what was that?â He lets out an awkward laugh.Â
âI may or may not have told her we werenât friends like a week into first year,â Sirius mumbles, not meeting any of their eyes.Â
The boys exchange confused looks with each other, not fully understanding.
âWhy?â James follows up.Â
âI⊠donât know. Some mix of betrayal of not knowing she was going to be here and her being a Slytherin, I guess. It felt like a connection to my family that I was able to separate myself from by being a Gryffindor, you know?â
Remus shakes his head. âBut, mate, if you were friends before Hogwarts-â
Sirius cuts him off. âTry my closest confidant.â
âThatâs even worse,â Remus continues. âIâd imagine she was pretty pissed when you left her. Coming here and you see a familiar face that tells you to fuck off?â
âI mean, I was pleasant to her. We just arenât friends anymore! And we didnât see each other at home anymore either.â
âIâm willing to bet thatâs your doing though,â Peter says.Â
Sirius sighs and nods.Â
âPadfoot, Padfoot, PadfootâŠâ Remus breathes.Â
âShould you be concerned about Regulus though?â Peter asks, his voice small as he knows talking about his family isnât Siriusâ favorite thing. âShe seemed pretty stressed âbout it.â
âMildly,â Sirius says shortly. âHeâs stronger than she knows.âÂ
Remus gives Sirius an unsure look. Remus has seen how often you hang around Regulus and assumes you two were probably as close as the Marauders were. Only differences being you didnât share a dorm and were in different years. Sirius didnât see Remusâ look. He didnât want to feel the judgment of his friends right now. Not when he had been yelled at by his oldest friends, one who knew of his home life better than the Marauders did. You had been there when he was subjected to his parentsâ moods and opinions year round as compared to only having to survive a few months with them.Â
Sirius didnât sleep well that night. He kept tossing and turning but ultimately failed at becoming comfortable and falling asleep. He tried to just rest with his eyes closed. It didnât help that his mind was endlessly spinning and replaying your words, your concern for Regulus and fury at him for leaving Regulus behind, rather than being happy for him finally escaping his tormentors.Â
The next day, he makes a point to find you after class. Being exhausted in class wasnât conducive to paying attention, nor was still having you on his mind. His friends could tell he wasnât in it; they mostly left him alone and tried to keep the professorâs attention off of him. Remus had made comments to James and Peter about thinking your intrusion had affected Sirius more than he would admit to them. Afterall, Sirius liked to keep his personal emotions close to his chest.Â
He finds you in the library with Pandora and Dorcas. He looks around nervously for Regulus, or Barty and Evan. He was more nervous about Regulus, but seeing Barty and Evan wasnât my favorite scenario either. Luckily for him, it was just the girls. Dorcas and Pandora noticed him right away as he started to approach the table. You had continued working, not looking up.Â
âUh, hey, Y/N,â he says awkwardly.Â
Dorcas and Pandora give him annoyed glares. You look up slowly.
âWhat, Black?â you all but spit at him. Had he not gotten enough of an earful yesterday?
âCan, uh, can we talk?â
Pandora cocks her head to the side as Dorcas glances quickly from Sirius to you and back. You blink at Sirius, as if bored. The girls next to you have never seen Sirius so unsure of himself, except maybe when he was walking up to be sorted, when the possibility of being a Slytherin still hung in the air.Â
âI guess,â you say with a sigh. âIâll be back shortly,â you assure the girls as you follow Sirius into the depth of the shelves.Â
âHow bad is he?â Sirius asks once youâre out of earshot of the girls.Â
You scoff. âOh, so now you care.â
âI always cared. Itâs just not something I talk about with the guys. Heâs my brother.â
âHe was wrecked when you left. Rightfully so, if you ask me. And he was ruined when he came back to school. You left him alone with them.â You were trying to keep your voice steady and low, not wanting to start a shouting match with him in the library.Â
Sirius sighs and runs a hand through his hair.Â
âIs that all you needed?â you ask. âPretty sure I told you that yesterday.â
âHow is he⊠now?â
You bite the inside of your cheek before answering. âHeâs not the same, if thatâs what youâre asking. Barely okay some days. Itâs hit and miss, but overall, better the longer he isnât there, I think. Iâm worried about when he inevitably goes back. Christmas? Summer? All of our work this semester is going to go down the drain.â
âOur work?â
You roll your eyes. âMe, Dory, Dorcas, Evan, Junior. You know, the people that care about him.â
âI care about him.â
âThe people that care about him enough to be around.â
âBeing in that house was killing me. You know that. I had to get out.â
âIt never wouldâve killed you, Sirius. Drive you mad, yes. But not kill. Even on the worst days, you were never as bad as he is.â
âItâs not my fault he doesnât have the common sense to get out.â
âHe feels like he has to stay. I offered-â
âI know. You said yesterday. So he didnât take you up on it and you still feel the responsibility to fix him?â
âItâs not a responsibility. Itâs because heâs important to me. Thatâs why I helped fix you. You were important to me.â
Were echoes in his brain. Sirius shakes his head in slight disbelief.
âStill. He turned you away and youâre doing more than heâs asking of you. Why?â
You blink at him slowly and take a deep breath. What you wouldnât give for it to be appropriate to smack him upside the head, but you needed to keep your composure.
âHe came back to me. Heâs opened up to me. He didnât lock me out forever. Like you did.â
You feel like you need to scream.
âExcuse me.â
You turn and leave Sirius alone in the shelves. Pandora and Dorcas give you concerned looks as you take your seat again. They only look away from you when Sirius emerges from the shelves where you had left him. Their eyes follow him all the way out of the library before looking back at you and then refocusing on their own homework. You know they want to ask you what Sirius wanted but your demeanor says you arenât talking about it now, and maybe never.Â
---
âWhat did you yell at my brother about?â Regulus asks you as you sit down next to him at dinner.Â
âHm?âÂ
âPeople are saying you yelled at Sirius and his friends yesterday. I think you scared a first year.â
âReminded him that heâs a piece of shit.â
âWhat did he do this time?âÂ
You give Regulus an intrigued look. âWhy are you so interested?â
âMy best friend chewing my own flesh and blood a new one? Youâre kidding, right?â
âHe came and talked to her in the library earlier,â Pandora adds, leaning forward.
Regulus turns fully toward you.Â
âFirst you yell at him and now heâs coming to talk to you? Darling?â
âToldhimoffforleavingyou.â You have never spoken more quickly and quietly in your life.Â
âYou did what?â Regulus gasps. Of course he understood you.Â
âHe shouldnâtâve and you know it,â you say, pointing your fork at Regulus before going to stab another piece of food. âSomeone had to let him know and you obviously werenât going to do it.â
âBecause it was his choice.âÂ
âExactly. He chose to leave. He didnât have to. He shouldâve known better.â
âSo you told him off. For me.â
âYes.â
âYou didnât have toâŠâ You see Regulusâ gaze drift over to where Sirius was sitting at the Gryffindor table and he frowns. âMaybe you shouldnât have.â
You bite the inside of your bottom lip. It was easy to hide behind Regulus being your best friend as the sole reason, but yelling at Sirius had been cathartic. You finally got some sense of revenge for him abandoning you in first year. It felt so good to get that off your chest, at least in front of Siriusâ friends.Â
âIt wasnât just for you,â you mumble, half hoping that Regulus didnât hear you.
âThen for who else?â Pandora asks.
Regulus turns back to you. He waits for your answer.
âFor me.â
âFor you?â Regulus repeats.
âI, uh, I was his friend before I was yours.â
Dorcas snorts from next to Pandora. âBitch, when? You could barely look at him in first year and then Regulus was here.â
âBefore Hogwarts. We live near each other.â
âHe never mentioned a friend,â Regulus says softly.
âOkay, but then what happened? Youâve talked more in the past twenty four hours than the past six years,â Dorcas says.
âHe said we werenât friends anymore and yeah, that was that.â
Your friends all stare at you, each with a different expression on their face.Â
âExcuse me, what?â Dorcas asks.Â
You shrug. There wasnât anything more to say; you couldâve mentioned that Sirius told you all about life at home, but you felt that was implied enough for Regulus.Â
âAnd you never talk?â Pandora adds.
âHuh,â is all Regulus says.Â
âSo yelling at him was a little for me too. But the purpose was for you, Reg. He knows he shouldnâtâve left.â
âWhy didnât you ever say anything?â Regulus asks.
âI didnât think it really mattered. The Sirius I was friends with wasnât Sirius Black. He was just Sirius and I was just Y/N. We werenât wizards. We were just kids at a park. And then everything changed and the past was the past.â
âKids at a parkâŠâ Regulus mutters, putting two and two together. âThe one you said you visit often?â
You nod.Â
âI suppose⊠that makes senseâŠâ Heâs speaking slowly as he is still processing the fact that you knew Sirius and were friends before he had even met you. âAnd he was the one who left you?â
You nod again. He hums and puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.
âThatâs his loss and my gain, I guess.â
You sigh in relief. Some part of you had thought Regulus would be furious that you hadnât disclosed your previous friendship with his brother. Although, in your defense, like you had said, the Sirius you knew wasnât Regulusâ brother. That Sirius had been an only child and a muggle. And if you could have had your way six years ago, you wouldâve had both Black brothers as your friends.Â
---
Once again, what you had said kept Sirius up at night.Â
Were. Were. Were.
You were important to me.
He knew he was the reason he no longer was important to you. He had been the one to push you away. He had never found himself regretting it until now. As he goes through the next dayâs classes, he wonders how he managed six years of ignoring you. Youâre in almost every class he has. Your voice and laughter draw his attention. He never realized how much he missed hearing both, and even more so, being the cause of the laugh.Â
The rest of the Marauders arenât oblivious to Sirius watching you, but they donât say anything to him. They donât understand how close the two of you had been before he ruined it. And they donât understand that your yelling had really got in his head. That you coming to him, instead of listening to his command, forced him to realize how much he missed you and your friendship. He missed you and needed to fix it. He saw that he made a dire mistake pushing you away.Â
It takes him time to wrap his head around everything. After a week of trying to dissect your words in his head on his own, he swallows his pride and asks for help.
âWhat does it mean if someone says you were important to them?â Sirius asks, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.Â
âYou need a grammar lesson? Okay.â Remus says. âWere. Used to be. Past tense. No longer important.â
âIs it a lost cause though?â
âIs what a lost cause?â
âCan you re-become important to someone?â
âI suppose it depends on what happened to make you unimportant to them.â Remus pauses, looking over Sirius. âIs this about Y/N?âÂ
Sirius nods. He knows that Remus would be looking at him to see it.
ââFraid I donât know enough about that to really say, Pads. She sounded beyond pissed at you.â
âHow do I get her to see that I had to leave and taking Regulus with me wasnât really an option?â
âYou think Jamesâ parents wouldnât have taken him in too?â
âNo, they would have. I donât think Reg would have come with. Certainly not easily.â
âDid you ask him?â
âNo. What if he told Mum what I was going to do? I was able to get out because I had surprise on my side.â
Remus thinks for a moment before responding. âWhen did y/n say that?â
âLast week, after she yelled at me. I went back to ask about Reg.â
Remus doesnât say anything. Once again, he needs more information.Â
âShe said Regulus is important to her. And I was.â
âAnd you want to change that?â
âThe part about me, yes. I donât mind that she cares for Reg. Itâs⊠good he has someone. That he has her, of all people.â
Remus shakes his head and tries to stifle a laugh. Sirius looks over at him when he hears.Â
âWhat?â
âPadfoot, itâs really quite simple. I think you need to talk to her. Apologize for being an idiot. Maybe a bit of groveling. See if she has ideas on how you can help Regulus,â he says. âGirls like it when guys admit they were wrong. And you were wrong. Very. Extremely.â
âShut up, Moony. I know. I know I was wrong.â He takes a breath. âAnd itâs hit me how much I miss her. I donât know how I managed six years without her.â
âTell her that. While youâre groveling on your knees. Begging.â
âDonât make it sound so pathetic.â
âCan I come with to watch? I think it is going to be pathetic and thatâs something I need to witness.â
âSo you can tell everyone?â
âSo I can tell everyone.â
---
Sirius corners you in the library. Well, not quite corners you. He finds you at a table alone. He sits next to you and turns your chair so youâre facing him.
âI was working,â you hiss at him.Â
âI need to talk to you.â
âAgain?â
âYes, again.â
âYou only have a few minutes. Regulus is meeting me here after Quidditch practice. You need to be gone when he gets here.â
âActually, I need to talk to him too. But youâre first.â
You narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms. You wait for him to talk.Â
âOkay. This is long overdue. Iâm sorry.â
You scoff. âSorry for what?â
âI wasnât finished,â he says. âIâm sorry for pushing you away when we were first years. And for never talking to you. Never going back to the park. I was selfish and stupid. I still am stupid. The biggest idiot youâve ever met.â
âI couldâve told you that, Black.â
He briefly purses his lips together at his last name.
âContinuing my idiocy, this is going to sound even more stupid. I didnât realize how much I actually missed you until you yelled at me. I havenât been able to get you out of my head. I donât know how I survived the last six years without you. I need you in my life.â
You raise your eyebrows in surprise. âYou missed me? Bit too late to be confessing that, donât you think?â
âYes, I know it is. Thatâs how stupid I am! Six years and being called a dipshit to get my head out of my arse.â
Your glare softens ever so slightly.
âSo Iâm sorry. Iâm so, so, so sorry.â
âOkay.âÂ
âCan I try to explain something? Do I have time?â
You sigh and lean backwards to see the clock.Â
âYou have time.â
He smiles before his expression becomes serious again.
âI thought the only way to escape them was to leave on my own. To disappear out of the blue. If they had an inkling that I would actually leave, they mightâve stopped me. Thatâs why I didnât say anything to Regulus. I wasnât sure heâd want to come with, especially to the Pottersâ. I know I need to talk to Regulus on my own. But I want to try to fix it. I need to work on fixing my relationships with the Slytherins I never shouldâve let leave my life.â
âI donât think he wouldâve said anything. Probably wouldnâtâve gone with you, but he wouldnâtâve been so goddamn blindsided.â You pause. âI donât know if you can fix these relationships.â
âI need to try. Please. Let me try.â He got out of his chair and on his knees, as Remus suggested. âPlease, Y/N. You were my first friend. The best friend Iâve ever had and I ruined it. Please, let me try to fix it.â
Youâre looking down at him with wide eyes as Regulus approaches the table.
âWhat the actual fuck?â he asks.Â
Sirius immediately stands up, turning towards his brother.
âRegulus.â
âSirius.â
âIâm sorry.â
Regulus put his bag down on the table, not breaking eye contact with his brother.Â
âAre you now?â
âI should have told you.â
âYou should have stayed.â
âI couldnât.â
Regulus sits down and looks away from his brother and at you.Â
âRegulus, I had to leave. I think for the same reasons you feel you need to stay. I know I was the one who left, but I donât want to lose my brother.â
âYou have James.â
âHeâs not blood.â You knew it was hard for Sirius to say that. âYou always have a place at the Pottersâ if you want to leave. Itâs okay to leave.â
âMy invitation still stands too,â you say, speaking for the first time since Regulus joined you.Â
Regulus looks back at his brother and then to you again. He shakes his head.
âWhat is this?â
âI, uh, I am trying to start mending the bridges I burned with my idiocy,â Sirius says as he slowly sinks back into his chair. He looks at you. âDoes he know about us?â
âAbout what?â Regulus spits.Â
âWe were friends before Hogwarts. When I would disappear, I was usually with Y/N,â Sirius clarifies and Regulusâ face relaxes.
âOh, that. Yes, Iâm aware.â
You laugh, earning a sharp look from the librarian.
âReg! Do you really think Iâd be dating him without telling you?â
You were important. Sirius feels his face grow hot.Â
âAnyways!â Sirius says. âI want a second chance, even though I probably donât deserve one from either of you.â
You look at Regulus, trying to read his expression. Siriusâ apology to you certainly felt more heartfelt than his to his own brother. Maybe there was a dynamic you werenât familiar with between them, but you wanted Regulus to answer first. Your loyalty would be to him first. His face is stoney as he looks his brother up and down.
âWill you be better?â Regulus asks after a few seconds.
âIâm going to try. Whatever you need of me, except moving back in.â
âOf course thereâs a caveat,â you sigh.
âNo, no,â Regulus says, giving you a soft smile. âI wouldnât ask you to move back in. But write? Keep me in the loop? Donât prank me?â
âWhat about a friendly prank? Like something I would do to James, Peter, them.â
âMaybe.â
âAnd I will write. Daily, if you want. And even if you donât stay, youâre welcome to visit the Pottersâ or we can spend a day in the city or whatever.â
There is so much desperation in Siriusâ voice as he talks to Regulus that you almost feel bad for him. His apology could have used work, but he seems genuinely wanting to reconnect with Regulus outside of their parentsâ grasp.Â
âAnd for you?â Sirius asks, turning his attention to you once Regulus seemed satisfied with him.
âWhat?â
âWhat will it take for a second chance?â
You look at Regulus, only to find him actively watching you. You canât tell if heâs encouraging you to give him one or if heâs curious at what youâd require from him. You look back at Sirius with a grim face.
âI donât know. I was never friends with Sirius Black.â
Sirius gives you a confused and hurt look. âBut the parkâŠâ
âI was friends with a young boy named Sirius. He didnât have a last name. He didnât have a brother at home.â You sigh before continuing. âI suppose if Sirius Black wants to try to be friends, he can try and weâll go from there.â
âThank you. Thank you both. I promise I wonât blow it.â A wide smile is adorning his face as he stands up. âIâll let you two study, but thank you.â
You both watch Sirius leave the library in silence.Â
âYou think youâll be able to forgive him?â Regulus asks you as he opens his bag and takes out his homework.Â
âWeâll see. That first year was hard. Guess weâll see how much effort he really puts in. You?â
âIf he keeps his word. We can be pleasant then, I think.â
You smile across the table at the younger boy. âYouâre kinder to him than I am.â
âFamily, you know.â
You roll your eyes. âYou damn well know you donât have to love family.â
âThen Iâm choosing to. Heâs Sirius. Something about him is loveable.â
You didnât want to admit it, but you knew he was right.
---
Itâs the little things. Sirius started making a point to say hi to you, and to Regulus. Pranks seemed to avoid you. He would approach you in the corridors and the library to chat. You could tell Sirius watched and cheered Regulus on the Quidditch pitch, when Slytherin wasnât playing Gryffindor. He was taking the baby steps he needed to.Â
As much as you tried to hang onto your anger, you couldnât. It didnât wash away in one go, but it melted like an ice sculpture without a permafrost enchantment. It probably helped that over Christmas Regulus received the letters he was promised. Both Regulus and Sirius wrote to you, which the latter was more unexpected. They both told you about an adventure into the city that went well, only a few minor tense moments that passed almost as quickly as they appeared. You spent time with Regulus at the park, apparently at Siriusâ suggestion. So when the spring term was starting up and Regulus wasnât a shell of himself as he had been at the start of the fall term, you really noticed how much effort Sirius had been putting in. He was really trying to not mess up his second chances.Â
Sirius finds you sitting in a window seat, reading a book you had gotten for Christmas. He leans against the wall and watches you for a moment. Heâd be lying if he said he didnât enjoy seeing you so focused and lost in the pages.Â
âHey,â he says finally,
You look up. The shock of seeing him evident on your face, but you mark your spot and put the book down.Â
âHi.â
âCan I ask you something?â
âYeah. Whatâs up, Sirius?â
You cross your legs so Sirius can sit at the other end of the window seat.Â
âIf I had invited you to the Potters for a day over break, would you have come?â
Youâre taken back by the question. It was unexpected and it felt loaded.Â
âI just⊠I almost invited you. I need to know if I should be kicking myself for chickening out,â he adds when you donât respond.Â
âHonestly, probably not. I donât know your friends, especially not the Potters. I donât think James is too fond of me.â
âHeâs come around a bit,â Sirius says. You can tell heâs trying to not look too hurt at your denial. âAnd how will they learn to love you if you donât come around?â
âLove? Letâs work on simple friends, or acquaintances at school first.â
âThen Hogsmeade? Next weekend? Would you consider coming with us?â
You hesitate. A full day with Sirius and his friends is daunting. You were just beginning to be friends with Sirius. Jumping into his friend group felt like too much. Again, Sirius talks more when you donât say anything.
âWhat if it was just me?â
âIâd consider just you.â
âThen Iâll tell the boys I wonât be going with them!â Sirius exclaims happily, jumping up from the seat.
âI said consider!â you call after him, but heâs sprinting down the corridor.Â
You did consider it. You thought about it during class and meals. You even talked about it with Regulus, who supported your reformed friendship with Sirius. He said something about the day in London with Sirius was more fun than heâd admit to Sirius so if he has a London day with him, you need a Hogsmeade day. And then you considered it and thought about it more.Â
You kept doing so until you hadnât said no and were waiting for Sirius by the ground gates to walk to Hogsmeade. It was cold and snowing and Sirius was a little late. You pull your cloak tighter around your body. You canât help but smile when you catch a glimpse of Sirius running toward you while attempting to tie his scarf.
âIâm late, I know! Please donât hold it against me!â
You laugh at him as he huffs.
âOh, just let me,â you say, grabbing his scarf that wasnât remotely tied in a way to keep him warm.Â
You tie it for him and tuck the ends into his cloak so they wonât fly in the wind.Â
âThere. Now letâs go! Iâm thinking you owe me a butterbeer for making me wait.â
âIf thatâs the cost of being late, I can handle that. As much butterbeer as you want.â
Your day with Sirius goes smoothly. Conversations donât run dry. The camaraderie is just like when you were younger. Itâs fun and relaxing. After the Three Broomsticks, he follows you around a bookstore and then you follow him around Zonkos. You end up back in the pub for more butterbeer to warm you up before your walk back to Hogwarts.Â
âDid your friends even come to Hogsmeade today? Iâm surprised we didnât run into them,â you say, pulling on your coat.Â
âNo. Said something about giving us privacy?â
âDo we need privacy?â
âI mean, I did explain that you werenât ready to be thrown into a day with the Marauders?âÂ
âWhich is true. You have to admit, your group can be a bit much.â
Sirius laughs and holds open the pub door for you as you exit into the cold.
âWe can be. I think Zonkos both cringes and celebrates when all four of us walk in. They make sales, but at what cost?â
âThatâs the bookstore when I go in with Reg!â you say with a laugh.Â
âYou know his book collection well?â
You nod. âWeâre our own little book club, the two of us. And possibly edging on a library. If you ever take up reading, we got you.â
You lightly run into Sirius with your shoulder.Â
âMaybe Iâll have to. Sure would make Remusâ day to see a book in my hands.â
âIf you need recommendations, you know where to find me and Regulus.â
You walk for a little bit without talking. Snow is still falling, flakes getting caught in your hair and on your eyelashes. Youâre too busy watching where youâre walking to see Sirius sending sideways glances your way every few steps. Youâre about halfway back to the castle when he puts his arm out in front of you to stop you.
âWhy we stopping?â you ask, a shiver running up your spine as a gust of wind chills you.Â
âIâm going to risk my second chance with you.â
It happens before you can process anything. Sirius grabs your face and pulls it closer to his. He presses his lips to yours. He couldnât help himself. In rekindling your friendship, he realized that something else was caught on fire inside of him. With each letter he sent you, he could only anticipate your response. He had hoped you wouldnât want to go to Hogsmeade with all of his friends but would accept going with just him. He had been so nervous this morning that it made him late, but you had laughed and fixed his scarf. And then you just looked so beautiful with the white snowflakes in your hair. He couldnât help himself.Â
His eyes search yours for a reaction when he pulls away. You donât seem angry or upset.Â
âDarling?â he asks softly.
âHow long?â you ask.
âA few seconds, maybe?â
âNot the kiss. How long have you liked me?â
âOh. Sometime after you said youâd give Sirius Black a chance. But I think it wouldâve been longer if I had never pushed you away.â
You nod, suddenly unable to form words. Your thoughts are running a hundred miles an hour. Sirius had been one of your first and best friends. Today had been a testament to how easy it was to fall back into the friendship with him. It wasnât like you had ever truly stopped caring for him, nor that you have never imagined what mightâve happened between you if he had stayed. For Regulusâ sake, you always kept your thoughts about Sirius to yourself. You didnât dare mention anything to Dorcas or Pandora in case someone overheard or they didnât keep their mouths shut. Now, here you are, with Sirius in front of you, searching for a proper response after he kissed you. A Sirius who begged for forgiveness after being an idiot for six years. A Sirius who said he was going to risk his second chance.
You lean up and give him a quick peck on the lips. He stares at you.Â
âWeâre lucky I gave you that second chance,â you say with a smile.
âWe?â he breathes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours.
âWe.âÂ
Sirius kisses you again and is smiling so widely that you think his jaw must hurt.
âI guess I need to tell Reg,â you sigh as you reach to hold Siriusâ hand.Â
#marauders fic#marauders#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black fluff#slytherin!reader#marauder-misprint
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Changed Woman - Chris Sturniolo
Babydaddy!Chris - Positive - Mama Pairings - Babydaddy!Chris x fem!Reader Summary - Your babydaddy, Chris, comforts you after morning sickness continues to kick your ass. Warnings - established relationship, pregnancy, mentions of morning sickness, mentions of vomiting, sassy Nick, lil fluff Word Count - 1950 Authors Note - I knoww it's short but it would've been way too long if I didn't break it up. With that being said, another part will be out soon! I hope everyone enjoys! đ«¶đ» Also I made my own dividers, feel free to use! The own used in this post is also mineđ«Ł (not proofread yet) Masterlist Current Series - City of Love
Clutching the countertop in a death drip, you suck in a deep breath in an attempt to steady yourself. Recently hitting ten weeks a few days ago, your morning sickness had been kicking your ass ever since you found out you were pregnant. âMorningâ sickness was a horrible term because it lasted all day and night for you. Half of the things you ate your baby didnât agree with, even if you craved it for days on end. Throwing up sporadically throughout the day made your body exhausted and achy from all the heaving. Currently in the family bathroom of a local Chiliâs, you were trying your absolute hardest to pull yourself together, mainly because you were out to eat with Chris, Nick, and Matt.Â
Chris made you vow to keep it a secret until he was ready to tell them, but you knew time was ticking. With your small bump getting bigger by the day, the secret was getting harder to keep. You wore baggy clothes to keep the growing bump concealed but you could only do so much, you were a pro at hiding the fact you were running to the bathroom every 30 minutes to either pee or puke. The boys were starting to catch on, and both you and Chris knew it. There had been a few times where you stumbled out of bed in the middle of the night, rushing the bathroom the boys shared to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet, forgetting to shut the door behind you which gave Matt the perfect view when heâd walk out of his bedroom. Matt would rush to Chrisâs room every time, waking him up to tell him what was going on, but heâd never ask questions, always assuming you were just sick. Nick was too observant, when he noticed your sense of fashion went out the window, he began to ask questions and make teasing comments - âwell donât you look bummy today,â and âwhyâre always in one of Chrisâs hoodies? You have one on like every day.â On most occasions, Chris would be by your side to defend you by saying a quick-witted comeback like - âMy girlfriend canât wear my hoodies?â or âso what? Sheâs comfy.â Other times, you were left to defend yourself all by your lonesome, whether Chris wasnât there or just wasnât paying attention.
A light knock on the bathroom door snaps you back into reality. âJust a minute,â you manage to call out. âItâs me,â the familiar voice echoes from the other side of the door. As you recognize the voice, you reach a hand out to the door, unlocking it to let him in. Chris gently pushes it open, stepping inside of the family restroom with you and closing the door behind him, âyou okay?â
Looking up at your boyfriend, you see a sympathetic look engraved into his face. He had been worried about you, âno way pregnancy made a woman throw up this much,â is what he thought each time he saw you scurrying to the bathroom. Chris did his best to help out where you needed it, holding your hair, rubbing your back, and always having a water bottle in hand. He couldnât help but feel like it wasnât enough, like it was all his fault. It was starting to take a toll on him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he broke down to his brothers, telling them you were carrying his baby.Â
When Nick and Matt started asking questions, he started making up excuses and little white lies to cover both of your asses. Lying to the two people he had always been closest to made him feel like the worst person in the world, but he knew the time wasnât right. Right before he left the dinner table to check on you, Matt asked if you were throwing up again, making it obvious what Chrisâs plans were. Whether he meant it in an innocent way or not, it didnât put Chrisâs mind at ease.Â
Sucking in another deep breath and nodding to your boyfriend, âmâfine, Chris. Baby didnât like the mozzarella sticks. I donât know, I had them last week and I kept them down just fine,â you ramble. Ten weeks in and you felt defeated and drained. Watching as Chris rubs a hand down your arm, pulling you in for a hug, âhey, itâs okay. Youâre not doing anything wrong, heâs just being indecisive,â making sure to give you the reassurance he always did. His calm demeanor soothes you almost immediately. You nod a few times and turn to the mirror, looking over yourself. You were pale as a vampire; it looked like all the life and energy was sucked out to you. If this is what pregnancy was like, this baby was for certain going to be your one and only.Â
Chris inches behind you, letting both hands fall to your waist. A nervous expression plastered on his face as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, âwe have to tell them soon.âÂ
Sucking in another scattered breath, you open your mouth to speak, âI know.â You let out a lengthy sigh, âtheyâre catching on.â Chris nods slowly, agreeing with you, âasking too many questions,â dipping his head down to plant a kiss on your temple. His hands smooth over your small bump, lifting your shirt up, âand heâs getting big. Canât keep him a secret much longer.âÂ
His words put you at ease, making a smile pull at your lips. Chris had been manifesting a baby boy ever since he found out. He only referred to the baby as he or him, never she or her. You wanted a girl as bad as he wanted a boy, so it pinched a nerve every time he mentioned it. Deep down, you didnât care what the gender of the baby was. As long as they were healthy, you would be over the moon, and you were sure Chris would be too. Regardless of the short amount of time you and Chris had been together, you knew your baby was made with so much love.Â
âYouâre gonna be real shitty when we find out it's a girl,â you poke at him. You can tell by the way he screws up his face that he doesnât agree with a single word you said. Bellowing out a laugh, âa girl wouldnât be bad,â you tell him, running your hands down his arms and pulling your shirt up further to expose more of your growing bump. He lets out a soft sigh, âI know. I just really want a mini me,â he muffles, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. âWell, donât get your hopes up. We donât know yet,â you tell him before turning your attention to your reflection in the mirror. Your bump looked bigger than normal. It seemed like every time you raised your shirt to look in the mirror, your belly grew in size - kind of like Pinocchio and his nose.
âWe should tell them tonight,â you blurt out. Chris digs his head out of the crook of your neck, âtonight?âÂ
âYea, why not?â you beam, even though you dreaded the thought. His brothers could be a bit judgmental at times, especially Nick, who had no idea what a filter was. A lot of the time, heâd impulsively say the wrong thing, but heâd always feel bad and apologize later on. Itâs not that Nick didnât like you, he just didnât care to not be himself around you. Matt, on the other hand, didnât seem to give two fucks. He was happy for Chris and his intuition told him you were a perfect match for his brother. He was the main person Chris vented to which made Chris feel like he was keeping everything bottled up. He wasnât wrong. Chris lets his hands drop to his side, pinning his bottom lips between his teeth once again as he takes a step back, âI donât know, baby. I donât think tonight is a good idea.âÂ
âNuh-uh,â you grumble, âwhat happened to a few minutes ago when you were trying to convince me the time was right?â You spin around, wrapping your arms around his neck, and playfully narrowing your eyes at him, âweâre telling them tomorrow. No ifs, ands, or buts. I mean it, Chris!âÂ
âYes maâam,â he holds a hand up to his forehead, jokingly saluting you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips, âletâs get back out there, yeah?âÂ
You follow Chris back to the secluded booth Matt had picked out for the group. Going out to eat was out of the norm for the four of you, usually you guys would go through a drive thru, but Chris suggested it and didn't let up when everyone was opposed to the idea. He wanted to get you out of the house and if he was being honest, he wanted to butter up his brothers before he broke the news to them. Chris was nervous to tell them. Nervous was an understatement. He was so scared to tell them, he felt like telling his parents would be a piece of cake.
"Please don't tell me y'all were fucking in the bathroom," Nick spits out in a playful tone. You give him a funny face, scooting into the booth while Chris mimics your actions. He didn't find it that funny, though. Nick had been giving you shit over a lot of things, from your sudden change in style to the way you ran to the bathroom. Even though you all knew Nick loved to pick on you like the little sister he never had, your hormones were at an all-time high. Chris knew your waterworks were a ticking time bomb and you were ready to explode at any given opportunity. He had not been super attentive since you revealed your pregnancy to him, he had become really overprotective. Nick constantly picking on you didn't sit right with him, but he knew if he told his brothers that you were in the bathroom throwing up again, they'd ask questions. The last thing he had the patience for was more questions. He already had too many of his own.
The four of you sit together, chatting about numerous topics as the boys finish their food. The mozzarella sticks being the culprit of your sickness just a few moments ago, you didn't dare touch them. You had thought your reluctance to finish your meal had gone unnoticed, but the waitress came back to set the bill down, asking if you need a to-go box in the process. You give her a toothless smile as everyone turns their attention to you, "that'd be great. Thank you," you tell her sheepishly.
"You didn't finish your food?" Matt asks, still chewing his last bite as he sets a few twenties down on the table. The boys get up from the table, and you follow quickly behind. You shrug off Matt's question, "you guys eat too fast," pulling the excuse out of thin air, "and I was in the bathroom." Your comment earns a nudge from Chris, indicating he liked your comeback. He crouches down to your level, "good one," making sure to whisper so his brothers don't hear.
"She didn't order her henny margarita either," Nick points out as you guys walk to the nearby exit. His comment makes Matt come to a realization, "you do always order a henny margarita!"
"What can I say? I'm a changed woman," you shoot out playfully as Chris intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly to let you know your response was valid.
đ·ïž - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @emely9274 @loveparqdise @frickin-bats @sweetshuga @thepubeburgler @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 (I think i got everyone. For some reason my tags weren't working in my last post?? Idk tumblr always acts weird to me đ« Let me know if anyone else wants added. Going to make an actual taglist post soon!)
© All Rights Reserved to m00nl1ghts1vt. I do not wish to share my work.
#âĄâ§âË cheyenne's works#âĄâ§âË Babydaddy!Chris#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo#the sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo
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Still The One
Note - just as a little thank you for being so kind I thought Iâd post something Iâve written lately. Iâll be back in a few days when my heads on straight but i hope youâre all well đ©· and I miss you guys and my masey
Pairing - Mason Mount Ă Reader
Word count - 1.5k
Warnings - fluff
âSorry guysâ you heard from behind you. The hand that was being placed on your waist squeezing you ever so softly as their hot breath tickled your neck but you knew that voice instantly and you couldnât help but smile. âCould I borrow my wife please?â
The chorus of awwwâs from your little group of friends that you were standing with made you blush but you didnât care. Melting back into Mason's body behind you as he wrapped his arms further around your waist and kissed your shoulder. His skin was hot from embarrassment as his cheek touched your neck and you thought it was the cutest thing ever.
It was the first time heâd referred to you as his wife to other people. The sound making your skin tingle as you couldnât contain you giggles and you just felt yourself radiating joy as your friends mirrored your smile.
âGo on then, y/n. Your husband needs youâ your best friend laughed. Her sending you a wink as he pulled back so you could take his hand and when you turned to face him you felt your heart explode in your chest.
You couldnât believe he was officially all yours.
This whole day had gone by in a flash, time only stopping when you caught eyes with him as he looked back at you tearily down the aisle and it finally hit you that you were actually doing this. Finally marrying the boy of your dreams and cementing the rest of your lives together.
âWhatâs up?â You asked as you followed him. Trying your best you wade through in your huge dress as Mason did his best not to step on it.
âIt's first dance time, are you ready?â He asked. Brows wiggling cheekily at you and you were beginning to wonder if he had something up his sleeve.
âWhat do you mean? We just sway from side to side right?â
âNah, Iâve been working on my movesâ he winked. âJust follow my lead yeah?â
âOh Mase, I donât like the sound of thatâ you laughed, but there was no time to argue. Mason giving the DJ a wave as he led you to the centre of the dance floor and you noticed people had started to gather in a circle around the perimeter. The nerves suddenly hit you that everyone would be looking at you but one look at Mason's kind face let you know everything would be fine.
âLadies and gentlemen, Mr and Mrs Mountâ
When it came to picking the song for your first dance, there was only one option you could think of. The pair of you had never really had a song that was yours before and considering how long youâd been together for you figured you should have had one by now. That all changed around six months ago when you and Mason went on a date night with Rasmus and Laura to see Teddy Swims and Mason pulled you in extra close for one specific song.
Youâd heard the original so many times, but listening to the boy you loved murmur the lyrics softly into your ear was a moment that etched itself right into your brain and as you looked up him right now you felt those same feelings swarm you.
He was so handsome
His hair was styled just how you liked it, him asking you what your favourite look of his was a few weeks before today so he could have it just like that and your chest fluttered at the gesture. His eyes were warm and happy as they creased at the sides but it was your favourite smile in the whole wide world that your eyes were drawn to. The same one you were met with on your first date that made you fall for him in the first place, the same one you woke up to and went to sleep with every night and the same one that you saw when he told you I do a few hours prior.
You were so so in love with him you thought you might burst.
As the start of the song played, Mason took your hand and kissed the back of it causing the butterflies to surge in your tummy. You were so in awe of him itâs like you were floating and when he pulled you in closer by your waist you wrapped your arms around his neck. Letting him sway you ever so gently as his forehead rested on yours.
Looks like we made it, look how far we've come my baby
We mighta took the long way, we knew we'd get there someday
Tears were springing in your eyes almost instantly, looking up into his eyes as you could tell his were a little watery too. His freckled nose pink as he blushed and you had to hold back from pulling him in for a kiss as everyone was watching and and you werenât sure if you could pull yourself away.
They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holding on
We're still together, still going strong
âI canât believe we finally did itâ he laughed quietly, trying to pull you in a bit closer but the puffy skirt of your dress made it difficult.
âSorry, this dress is bloody massiveâ you laughed. âIâll take it off soonâ
âOh yeahâ he winked and you laughed at the way he couldnât keep things serious ever.
âCheeky, I meant Iâll change into my evening dressâ
You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You're still the one I want for life
âHave you had a good day, Mrs Mount?â He asked, not getting tired of hearing that name come out of his mouth and his smile mirror yours as you grinned up at him happily.
âThe best dayâ you beamed. âI love you so muchâ
âI love you tooâ he whispered. Placing his forehead back on yours and shutting his eyes so he could feel the lyrics whilst you looked up at his perfect face.
You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss goodnight
Even though today was all about the pair of you, youâd missed him. Since the ceremony youâd been pulled apart to try and speak to everyone that had joined you for your special day but you wanted to be around him more than anything. So you took this opportunity with both hands and held him close. Letting him whisper the words in your ear just had he had that night as he slowly moved you around the dance floor and forgot everyone else that was there. Feeling so full of love as you inhaled his scent and revelled in the feel of him. Knowing you just needed to get through the rest of your day and it would be just the two of you again.
âYou trust me right?â He whispered. His voice teasing and you didnât know why he was asking you that and when you pulled back to look at him his eyes were sparkling with joy.
âI just married you, I can hardly say no can I?
âRight answerâ he laughed, pulling away so he could spin you out to the side of him and you giggled as he pulled you back in so your neck was against his arm and he could dip you back. The whole room cheering as he lent down to kiss you but you couldnât kiss him back properly as you were laughing so it was just a mess of lips and teeth.
As soon as he pulled you back up and into his arms properly again you grabbed his face and kissed him. Not happy with the fact you hadnât kissed him the right way just now and even though everyone was being loud you blocked out the noise and focused on your man as he lifted you up by your waist and spun you around a few times.
âAre these those moves youâve been practising?â You giggled as he settled you back down. Going back to swaying you gently as the song was coming to an end but you wished it would have gone on forever. Knowing as soon as it was over youâd be torn away from him again until later on when you went to bed.
âNah, Iâve got a few more to show you laterâ he winked. Your face turning bright red at the cheeky remark and even though he was joking, in the back of your mind you were hoping there was a lick of truth to it. The pair of you smiling back at each other delight, feeling completely euphoric at the fact you were stood in the middle of a dance floor in the arms of the one you loved more than anything with the rest of your lives to navigate together.
Youâd made it. Made your way through the awkward talking stage, to your first date and then to your first kiss and everything that comes after. Through laughter and tears, fights and apologies and everything in between. Youâd done it together and you knew youâd never be alone again.
I'm so glad we made it
Look how far we've come, my baby
#Mason Mount#Mason Mount blurb#mason mount fanfic#mason mount one shot#mason mount imagine#mason mount fan fic#mason mount fluff#mason mount angst#Mason Mount smut#mason mount imagines#mason mount fan fiction#mason mount fic#mason mount x reader#mason mount x y/n#footballer x reader#footballer x y/n#footballer imagines#footballer imagine#footballer fan fiction
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Dadâs best friend! Simon âGhostâ Riley x Reader
Warning: Smut
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Dbf!Simon, when visiting his friend, finds out he has a daughter. A pretty girl back from college on summer break. Young and beautiful with a promising future, a sweet thing really. He knows he shouldn't be looking, to keep his gaze away from his best friend's daughter, but he can't help but let his eyes trail up her figure. Up her legs to her perfect ass, up her enticing curves to soft breasts. The hard peaks up her nipples teasing him in the tight fabric of her tank top.
Dbf!Simon keeps his distance for a long time, watching from afar. Never acting on his urges, but he canât help but look, he's a man after all. Admiring the soft curves of her figure, eyes almost never leave her perfect body. He canât help but feel guilty when he ignores his best friend because he's too distracted looking at her to bend down to grab her phone. Her shorts riding up her thighs and gripping on to her ass making his jeans feel almost impossibly tight. Heâs surprised his friend never picked up on it, considering he was ogling unabashedly.
Dbf!Simon excusing himself from the conversation to use the bathroom, only to fuck into his fist with a fast pace. hurriedly trying to get rid of his achingly hard boner. Eyes clenched tight, brows furrowed, and mouth hanging open as he pumps his thick cock. Lewd thoughts flashing through his mind, imagining every position he could take her in, everything that he could do to that pretty little pussy. He quickly cums, shooting thick globs of his semon onto his hand, stroking his dick until nothing comes out. Quickly washing his hands and returning to his friend like nothing happened.
Dbf!Simon starts to visit more often, staying for family dinners and even spending nights. The more time he spends around this home the more it becomes increasingly hard to ignore his feelings for his friend's daughter. He slowly starts to pick up on things he didn't notice before, fleeting glances and soft touches when passing by. Bumping into him âaccidentallyâ and mumbling a soft âoh, sorry Mr.Riley. Didn't see you there.â while gently gripping on to his bicep. Such actions made his fat cock chub up in his pants, quickly leaving to rub one out. Her actions start to become way too obvious to him as the weeks pass by. One point her hand gripping his thick thigh almost touching his cock through his sweats while watching a movie, head leaning against his chest while batting those lashes up at him while her dad is in the next room over.
Dbf!Simon after months finally decides to return the touches. Hands gripping on her waist when needs to pass by, holding on to her hand during those movie nights under the blankets, even getting so confident to grab her ass when she bends down in front of him. Never once does she look at him with disgust, never once swatting away his hands. She returns those looks and touches. Everything changes when both are finally left alone with each other, her dad going on a quick beer run, and leaving the house. He makes his way up to her room as quickly as possible, barging in and quickly spotting her, pouncing on her. He makes quick work of her clothes and then his.
âĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄâĄ
âThink I wouldnâ notice the way yaâ look at me?â his fat cock pounds roughly into your pussy, stretching you wide open to accommodate his girth. The bed slams against the wall as he fucks up into your pussy, nearly breaking the bed from his powerful thrusts. âFuckân teasing me every chance you getâŠâ he moans deeply against you. his head by yours, mouth hanging open drooling on the back of your shoulder. His body on top of yours as he fucks in to you roughly, strong arms caging you under him. He ruts into you like a fucking animal, brain barely functioning, only knowing how to pound into your sloppy pussy and stretch your walls out. âWanted this didn't you? Wanted me to fuck you?â his hips roll up and hit the spots that nearly make you cum on the spot. Leaning up from you he harshly slapped your ass making you let out a soft gasp âanswer me when i speak to youâ youâre barely even able to form any coherent words. Only loud mewls and moans of pleasure. After a moment you can finally scramble enough brain power to answer back âY-yes!...â he soothes the now red mark on your ass, rubbing it softly and leaning back down to almost crush you under his weight. Heavy balls slap against your swollen clit as he fucks in to you like a damn animal. Panting in your ear like a dog as he comes closer to finishing. âImagine the look on your fathers face if he saw what I was doingâ to yaâ..â Roughly grabbing on to your hips he turns you on to your back, collapsing on top of you, crushing you under his weight. He paws at your chest, latching on to your puffy tit and licking it roughly. At this point he couldnât say a snarky comment to you if he wanted to. Drunk off the feeling of your tight gummy walls clenching on his cock like it never wants him to leave, sucking him in and caressing his cock each time he pulls out only to shove it back in as far as he can. Tip teasing your cervix each stroke. You claw at his back, nails digging and scraping against the large expanse of his lower back then down to grabbing his ass to push him in even further if possible. It's not long before the both of you are cumming. Your walls tighten around him to the point he can't pull out, shooting his warm sperm deep into your depths, reaching spots you didn't even know existed. Minutes pass before heâs done pumping his seed into your pussy. Shakily rising he looks to where you both connect, half lidded eyes gazing at your pussy that's stretched taut around his fat dick. His eyes lazily trail up to your stomach, breath hitching when he sees the outline of his massive cock just under your belly button. Fuck he can even see it twitch. he falls on top of you once more, head buried between your tits. He finally speaks up. âMâsorry i went so rough on you⊠couldnât control myselfâ he mumbles out in an apologetic tone. Your fingers card through his hair. Softly smiling you whisper reassuring words into his ear, holding the man close. âI enjoyed it Simon.â he lifts his head to gaze up at you, deep brown eyes staring into yours. âI shouldn't have done that to you, you're my friend's daughterâŠâ he was right on that, being the daughter of his best friend made this a lot more awkward, but nothing could stop the way you feel for him. âMaybe so, but i canât stop the way i feel about youâ your lips meet his, being way more gentle then what just happened a few minutes prior. âDidnât even take you out on a date first.â he mumbles against your lips as you both break apart. You canât help but smile at that. What a gentleman.. âYou still can.â
#cod#cod smut#ghost cod#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#cod mw2#smut
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reuniting with jinx <3
everyone... that was quite the rollercoaster. but, i choose to believe that jinx is alive. i'm not ready to let go of arcane for a good while, and I'll do my best to upload fics more often, especially with the holiday breaks coming up too, so reel in whatever arcane requests you have! i write for vi, caitlyn, and jinx. i do take smut requests for these characters too if you guys would like to request some...
obviously though, jinx wouldn't leave without finding her amazing gf though... right??
summary: jinx surprises you while you're grieving, and you both escape and go elsewhere.
warnings: angst at the beginning, season 2 act 3 spoilers, kissing, emotional, lots and lots of fluff, I PROMISED A HAPPY ENDING AND DELIVERED
you couldn't believe it. your whole body crumbled to the ground as vi told you the devastating news.
"I'll tell you one thing," vi tried to quip, a small smile on her face, "she went out with a bang."
vi explained that she heard an explosion sound when jinx fell down the vent, and how she guessed she had set off one more bomb. you take vi close to you, hugging her tightly.
"she really did love you, you know." vi admitted, "i think she's just had a lot come her way. and i can't say I'm the most innocent in that realm myself."
you left vi to continue staring at the fireplace, about to leave and go to jinx's workshop, hoping to take a few things to remember her by. you see caitlyn looking at the vent diagram, studying it closely. how could she possibly studying the place where your beloved girlfriend died? you knew that caitlyn had grown to not hate jinx anymore, so you decided to just leave it at that.
after leaving the kiramann mansion, you traversed back to zaun, thoughts racing through your head. had you not done enough? loved her enough? given her a reason to live? you wanted to scream as loudly as you could, and let whatever you were feeling out.
you finally made it to where jinx had her things, and you took a deep breath before entering. this was it.
the once lit-up place was darker and worn-out in her eyes. the once neon, bright-colored place seemed to be dark and empty now. like you without jinx. a tear rolled down your face as you picked up small tools and things, even parts of a flower she was making for you out of scraps. you sat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, trying to make sense in your head of what you should do next.
"did you really think i was gone, hun?" jinx questions, right behind you. your entire body leaps at the sound of her voice. it can't be.
"jinx?" you ask, shooting your head up and turning around.
"did you really think i was gonna die that easily? now stop moping. we have to get on the hot air balloon."
shocked, you hug jinx quickly before shoving one thing you collected in your pocket. you both start running. hand in hand, you make a beeline in order to get on the next hot air balloon.
"you know what i realized? things aren't so great here, so why don't i just go somewhere else to do my thing? but, i knew i couldn't leave without you." jinx explains while running.
"how did you even get out?" is the only thing you manage to say.
"my shimmer, silly! i got the hell out and escaped through the air vents."
"and how did you get back to zaun?"
"simple hacking and tweaking of the hexgates. nothing special."
you both finally make it onto the airship, jinx holding your hand as you get on so you don't fall. she closes the door behind you.
"so. this is it. any last wishes before we leave forever?"
"my biggest one has been granted," you answer before pulling in jinx for a sweet kiss. you had missed her, as you hadn't seen her for a week or two with everything going on. jinx pulls away, explaining that you two had to go.
"you know, i've always wanted to drive one of these," jinx admits, steering the ship, "i have since i was very young." you notice a new sense of peace in her eyes as she drives the ship. she doesn't seem so... tortured anymore. in fact, she seems free of any past issues.
her newly cut hair blows in the wind, as you go up behind her and hug her waist, your head resting on her shoulder. no matter what the future held, you knew you were going to be happy. as long as jinx was there, you would be at peace.
"i love you," jinx says softly, taking one hand off the wheel to rest on top of yours.
"i love you too."
#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane league of legends#arcane jinx#arcane jinx x reader#jinx#jinx arcane#jinx league of legends#jinx arcane x reader#jinx x reader#jinx arcane x fem!reader#jinx arcane x female reader#jinx x fem!reader#jinx x female reader#arcane jinx x fem!reader#jinx x f!reader#arcane jinx x female reader#jinx x you#jinx x y/n#jinx arcane x you#jinx league of legends x reader#jinx arcane x y/n#jinx arcane headcanons#arcane jinx headcanons#arcane headcanon#arcane headcanons#jinx arcane headcanon#arcane jinx headcanon#jinx league of legends x female reader#jinx league of legends x fem!reader
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Take It Easy
Summary: With everything that's gone on this season, you decided Joe deserved some much needed time away.
Pairings: Joe Burrow x gf!reader
Warnings: implied smut minors DNI
Note: Hi! I was finally able to get around to the request from this anon. I hope you enjoy it! Some good ole bye-week comfort with some steam.
Word Count: 2k
Check out my Masterlist here!
It had taken quite a fair bit of convincing, but you were all packed up heading a few hours away to a cabin with a couple other guys from the team and their significant others. Joe was beside you in the driver's seat, making you passenger with Sam and Jess passed out in the back. Evan and Gracie were in another car about 15 minutes ahead. Your trunk was filled with all of the supplies you could possibly need for the weekend with a few more hours on the road ahead of you.Â
After how youâd seen Joe beat himself up this past week, you knew you had to do something to take his mind off of things. A trip like this has been something youâd wanted to do for a bit, but the bye week felt like the right time to get everyone rest for the remainder of the season. Joe was reluctant at first, still heading to the facility at the start of the bye week, head strong and adamant that he needed to be doing everything he could to get the team in shape. Youâd had to talk him through things, getting him to understand that his body needed a break and having a few of the guys could help him to talk to other people who would get it. Heâd only agreed to a few days, but you still took that as a win in your book.Â
You knew he was trying so hard, carrying so much weight of the team on his shoulders. It was a burden he could only hold alone for so long before it did him in. Joe didnât relax much during any typical season, but this felt like a special exception to his strict routine. You were trying to drill into him that rest was just as productive and all of the other components he prides himself on.
Joe was lightly drumming along to the beat of the song softly playing from the speakers, your music left on shuffle from earlier in the drive. You were excited to get away with everyone, knowing the guys needed a break during the bye week and what better way to spend it than up in mountains unplugged for a few days. His right hand found its way to your thigh, light stroking you out of your thoughts.Â
âWhatâs going on in that pretty head of yours?â Joe asked, glancing in your direction. He looked so soft like this, wearing a hoodie and sweats with his hair down. His expression was calm, any signs of stress that had been showing on his face werenât currently evident. You hadn't gotten to see him like this much recently, taking him in while you had the chance.Â
âI was just thinking about how nice this trip is going to be. Iâm really glad you agreed to go, I wanted to be able to do something nice for you and figured this was a perfect time to goâ.
Joe sighed, humming constantly as his hand gently squeezed your thigh three times. It was a signal you both can come up with during your early days of dating, a nonverbal way to say âI love youâ and a simple reminder you were there for that person. The gesture brought a small smile to your face.
âIâm glad we invited some of the guys, but I canât wait until I can get you aloneâ Joe spoke, keeping his voice low in case anyone had woken up. His voice held a rasp and desire that would cause you to fold right there in any other circumstance.
You felt Joe's hand begin to climb your thigh, sliding closure to the apex of your thighs. You placed your hand on top of his, applying a bit of pressure to halt his movements. Â
âSlow your roll cowboy, we're not even there yetâ you spoke chuckling.
âCowboy? Iâd gladly save a horse and let you ride me any dayâ Joe said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. He looked over at you, tipping his nonexistent hat to really seal the deal. You couldnât help, but laugh at his antics. Joe
You lightly patted him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes in his direction with a smile on your face âyeah, yeah focus on the road so we get there in one pieceâ.Â
âYes maâamâ he said with a short nod, turning his attention back to the road ahead.
By the time you had arrived, it had gotten late and you all were ready to get everything in and turn in for the night. You tried to do everything as efficiently as possible, creating a system of the guys bringing everything while you and the girls got it all sorted out inside. Once the last thing was brought in, the guys began to explore the place you had booked. You tried to keep as much of it as a surprise for Joe as you could, keeping the details limited.
The cabin itself was nice, a cozy feel hitting you immediately. There were plenty of bedrooms for everyone, a pool table in the living room, finished with a fireplace. There would be plenty of room in the kitchen to cook for the weekend, opting to stay in as much as possible to really unwind. Downstairs there was a small room that led out to a patio hosting a hot tub, the main thing that had really sold you on this place specifically. You could tell by the vibe it was going to be a nice few days getaway with each other even if you werenât completely alone.Â
You and the girls got to cooking, the guys finding enjoyment out of the pool table. You could feel yourself getting lost in your thoughts again as your eyes fell on Joe, leaning against the table laughing and joking around with his friends. When it was his turn to play, he bent over and steadied the pool stick expertly between his fingers. Joeâs hands were always something that you had found attractive and this instance was no exception. You knew exactly what those hands were capable of, causing a shiver of desire to run down your spine. The look of focus on his face completed the narrative you were writing in your mind, making your thoughts not so innocent.Â
You were snapped out of it by a bump to the hip by Gracie, coming back into the moment and food you were preparing in front of you. A knowing look had crossed her face followed by a wink as she went back to what she was doing.
âItâs good to see him with a smile on his face againâ Jess said, you nodded in agreement. Joeâs happiness was contagious, leaving you to finish your cooking with a wide smile on your face.
Everyone finished up dinner, deciding to head to bed and be ready for the day ahead.Â
âI really wanna go enjoy that hot tub before bed, we had such a long drive and itâd be nice to unwind just the two of usâÂ
âIâd like that, I also brought that one suit you really likeâ you said with a mischievous grin plastered across your face and you made your way down the hall to your room.
âThe red one?â Joe called after you, sounding eager.
âYouâll just have to wait and see Burrowâ you said, tossing his suit out and closing the door behind you.
By the time you made your way down to the hot tub, Joe was already there getting everything set. You stepped out onto the patio, the sounds of the door closing alerting Joe to your presence. Joe let out a low whistle at the sight of you, letting his eyes rake up and down your barely covered body.
âYouâre absolutely breathtaking sweetheartâ Joe said, extending his hand to help you get into the hot tub.Â
âThank you babe, you know I had to bring your favoriteâ you told him, stepping into the hot tub and letting out a moan at the sensation of hot water and got comfortable.
Joe got in after, settling on the opposite side of the tub and letting his shoulders drop at the feeling of hot water relaxing the tension in his muscles. He let his eyes close, fully submitting himself to relaxation, a groan escaping his lips. The sounds he was making had you clenching your thighs together, still feeling worked up from earlier. You loved seeing Joe when he got worked up, but you also loved these moments when he was able to be unguarded with you.Â
âCâmere, I feel like youâre so far away from meâ Joe said, lifting his arms out of the water to gesture you over.
You swam over next to him, gently pushing his shoulders to turn him to the side and settled your hands onto his shoulders. You began massaging his muscles, leaving tender kisses across the top of his back, hearing the soft sigh escape his lips.
âI know I donât tell you enough, but I appreciate all that you do for me. You're my biggest supporter in my corner and I want you to know how loved you are. I know I donât always show it â Joe said quietly.
âOf course Joey, loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done. Watching you get to do what you love for a living every week is one of my favorite things. You go out on that field and put your entire soul into it. I know youâre doing everything you can Joey and I know everything will work out eventuallyâ you said, hoping he would take on some of the confidence in your words.
Joe wordlessly spun you around to face him, lifting you onto his lap. His hands fell to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze while your arms settled around his neck, your lips connecting in a passionate kiss.Â
âI really donât know what I'd do without you sweetheart. Youâre my rock, my safe place, thereâs no one else Iâd rather come home to every nightâ Joe said, his lips finding your neck trailing kisses down to your collarbone.Â
âIâm right there with you, Joey, you have no ideaâ your words trailing off as he continued his assault with his mouth, biting and sucking your throat to the possibility of leaving marks.
He used the leverage to ground you into his lap, feeling his growing erection beneath you. A gasp caught in your throat, Joe taking the opportunity to let his tongue find its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance.
âThat feel good, baby? I want you to feel just what you do to me "Joe groaned out, eliciting a whimper from you.
This was the sweet friction youâd been craving from him all night, letting your head fall back as pleasure overtook you. This only spurred Joe on more, watching how he was able to make you feel as good as you were. Seeing you fall deeper into your desire only made Joe grind harder against your clothed center. It was getting harder and harder for him to control himself, his patience thinning. You brought your head back up, leaning in letting your lips ghosting over his ear as you spoke.
âIâve been craving you all night Joey, i want you so badlyâ you lightly whined, nipping at his lobe.
Joe reacted as quick as he could, scooping you into his arms as he carried you out of the hot tub and into the house. You broke out into a fit of giggles at his movements, careful to keep your volume down for your housemates. The remainder of your night would be spent relaxing in a different way.
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