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easy-there-leftovers · 6 months ago

Text

A Question Unasked

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: In which your ambitious, workaholic nature makes Spencer wonder if you've got a crush on Hotch. This slight hitch in his plan causes him to miss a few signs.

[A/N]: Can be seen as a filler from Spencer's perspective of certain scenarios from "Mixed Messages" and a prequel to "As Cool As I Think I Am", but can also just be a standalone

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, allusion to inappropriate workplace dynamics (it's not true, relax lol), slight description of canon-typical violence, mildly inaccurate timeframe | word count: 4k

Spencer looks up from his endless stacks of files on his desk to look at the girl on the other side of his desk. Only a single carpeted walkway really separating them.

He could easily just get up and walk right to her. Ask the burning question that's been on his mind since the Arizona case, but he can't.

Why is that?

He's been your friend for a while, and he's known you for a while longer.

With his eidetic memory, he remembers so clearly when you first started working together. He remembers your starched blazer and pressed blouse, a stark contrast to his swimming-in-sweaters look, and how that alone let anyone know that you were serious about uniform and protocol.

You were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, and a fresh graduate just like him.

You were smart, beautiful, and started working at the BAU as early as he did.

And because you were new and young, one of the senior agents had been assigned to supervise your progress. So much like how he was mentored by Gideon, you had been mentored by the unit chief himself; Aaron Hotchner.

He'd like to think that he learned a lot from Gideon. He wasn't the type to hold his hand throughout a case, which he is thankful for, but he had been there to encourage him to think more outside the box. To let his mind be more flexible and creative. To see things from every conceivable angle. Leaving no stone unturned.

He supposed you learned a lot from Hotch as well. With your calm exterior, polite demeanor, and calculating mind that occasionally colored your less polite vocabulary-- He didn't know what Aaron must've been like in his junior years, but he supposed that having you as his colleague was essentially the same experience.

What he does know, however, is how close you are to your boss. Or is it your work?

Either way, you being glued to your work almost always meant that you were glued to him by proxy. You two being the first ones in and the last ones out showed that you spent three-percent more of your time with each other than the rest of the team, and two-percent more than with him.

Granted that had changed as of late, but still!

That didn't leave him a lot of time to ask you if---

"Dr. Reid, if you keep staring at me, I don't think you'll be able to finish your action reports on time." You had said without lifting your eyes from your folder.

Having been caught, he cleared his throat with a small 'sorry,' and directed his head back down to his still endless stack of files. The action earning a couple of chuckles from the bullpen where the rest of your colleagues had certainly seen, or at least heard, the exchange.

Not long after however, he saw Hotch from the corner of his eye lean over the railing outside his office. Calling for you both to meet him inside with his usual stern expression.

Spencer noticed how you got up, eyes still zeroed in on one of your files, and continued on your way up and into the unit chief's open door.

A clear sign that you had been invited there often enough that you didn't need to see where you were going.

You expected it.

He sighs and makes his way into the office as well. Dreading what the meeting could even be for, though he's confident he hasn't done anything wrong.

***

"As you might have noticed in our previous cases, I've paired you two to work on the more analytical aspects of it together. With these changes, we've been able to work twice as fast, and we’re thankful for the help."

Whatever Spencer had been expecting, it was not this. His raised eyebrows evidently agreed with him.

It wasn't everyday that Hotch complimented someone like this, much less in the proper environment. And if your respectful posture, but shining eyes in slight pride were anything to go off of, this was something new for you too.

As he was about to voice his thoughts, you had spoken up.

"Sir, Dr. Reid's knowledge in a wide array of subjects has certainly helped with our investigations. Though I'm afraid I haven't done much aside from ensuring it's accuracy and-"

"No! I mean--," He looked to see you already looking at him in slight confusion before continuing.

"She's been a huge help so far and has allowed me to exchange ideas with her to build a more accurate profile. Not to mention that her ability to mediate between departments has been beneficial to gaining access to pertinent information! So I think she's done plenty for the investigations as well." His voice dwindles as he realizes he's rambling on praises and he suddenly feels warm under the scrutiny of both his boss and his colleague.

He just didn't want anyone thinking you weren't doing anything by being humble. Especially since you're both so young.

Thankfully, it's Hotch who speaks up again after a beat.

"So what I'm hearing is that you're both satisfied with this arrangement?"

You both nod carefully and he smiles a small smile at that.

"Then we'll be carrying on with this pairing into the foreseeable future. Should there be any concerns about this arrangement, see to it that it goes through me. We can't afford to lose either of you." He says it with a finality that prompts both Spencer and you to leave with a nod, but the thought is instantly corrected when he speaks again.

"Oh and agent?" He looks only at you, but Spencer looks back as well out of instinct. "A private word, if you please."

Spencer sees you nod without a second thought and he takes it as his cue to hurriedly leave.

***

It hasn't been that long, Spencer argues with himself, since he left the unit chief's office. The blinds aren't drawn, he would know since he'd been looking at them periodically, so he also knows that nothing untoward is happening.

Yet something is bothering him about it.

From his position on his desk, he can see you and Hotch discussing something on his table very seriously, but he also sees how your eyes rarely leave the face of your superior. He can't quite see your expression due to the distance and the light, but he has this sinking feeling that it's a lot like the one from earlier.

He scoffs at the thought. If he wasn't thinking so rationally, he would've thought-

"Does she like Hotch?"

"Who likes Hotch?"

The new voice makes him whip his head back so fast to see Morgan with a confused face. Upon further examination, he sees him holding something that was definitely supposed to be flicked at him if he hadn't been caught so off guard.

He internally debates to voice his opinion, but he does anyway.

"Do you think that she likes Hotch?" He gestures with his eyes to their supervisor's office.

"You're asking me if I think 'little miss perfect' has a crush on a man that's hitched?" Derek echoes back with the use of your nickname. One that he coined as a playful jab at your no-frills behavior.

Spencer cringes when he hears it back though. He didn't ask this to get you in trouble, but it might come across that way now.

"Who has a crush on married man?" Elle joins in, and he only shrinks into his seat more.

"I'm not asking if she has a crush on him! I just want to know if she might like him and--what it is that she likes about him..."

The two exchange looks before looking back at him. Fully knowing that that's not the reason why he's asking, but they humor him anyway.

"Reid, what makes you think she likes him and not literally anyone else?"

"Well. there's her preference for prolonged eye-contact, a common indicator of interest for one. Her being in constant proximity to him, a sign that shows comfort in certain contexts, and then there's the amount of time they spend together."

The last one might be a bit of a reach, considering how you all work in the same area, but at this point he just wanted someone to tell him that he was either absolutely right, or crazy.

"Kid, that's crazy."

Duly noted.

"I'll say.” Elle chuckles out her response. “I haven't thought about it all, but those signs don't really mean anything. It just sounds like she has a habit of looking at whoever's talking to her." She notes, sharing her experience of being on the receiving end of your rather intense gaze.

His other friend adds onto that.

"And the whole closeness thing? You've seen her, she's like a computer with the way she works. She's a workaholic. And Hotch is another. It's just math, Reid."

Spencer furrows his eyes at the man's statement but before he can ask further, he sees you coming out of the office and staring at the small crowd that has now formed at his desk.

"Is something going on here?" You ask with tense brows. Eyes flickering to and fro.

He couldn't really think of something on the spot, but thankfully Derek had one at the ready. "Was just caught trying add my stack on to pretty boy's plate."

He sees you let out a small 'hm,' and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

He sighs in relief as he feels a firm pat on his back from Morgan.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking." He says before leaving to go to his own desk as well.

Spencer doesn't know what good that would do, especially now that he's worried one of his colleagues have caught wind of him liking you, but he at least takes note of it.

--------

He does not, in fact, take note of it until very later.

The team had been called to San Diego to deal with someone they had been calling, "The Tommy Killer." An unsub that had a preference for gluing his victims' eyes open.

As they were reviewing the scene in the jet, they had noticed a few stanzas of a literary work had been left behind at the scene.

"It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady." Spencer had mentioned from where he stood.

"A 17th Century ballad?" Morgan had asked him incredulously from his seat, but it’s you who answers.

"One where a woman tries to bribe Death with all that she has in exchange for a little more time to live. Naturally, he doesn't allow it. Claiming that she was undeserving of an exception that even kings were denied of."

Spencer looks up from his own copy to see you still looking at your own from beside Hotch. With your brows furrowing in thought, he almost sees the actual gears in your brain turning.

"So what, are we looking at a literature professor of some kind?" Elle asks which immediately perks him right up.

"Well, actually anyone with access to the internet today. You should see what comes up when you type in the word, "Death" into a search engine." He laughed absentmindedly.

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date."

Morgan's words made him frown, but he brushes it off.

Hotch, as previously discussed, then called on for the both of you to look deeper into the messages. To see if there was anything new that could be inferred.

He nods at him, and looks up. Expecting you to still be looking at Hotch as well.

Instead, your eyes meet his, but you quickly look back onto your file.

Reid thinks it's just a coincidence.

***

"Creepy, huh?" JJ had asked you two as she approached where transcripts of the written messages were tacked onto a board.

Spencer had been focusing so hard that he was caught off gaurd by her sudden appearance. Fully expecting the area to just be for you and him so he told her what first came to mind.

"Actually, conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance."

Though perhaps the delivery wasn't as as good as he thought it was as JJ only stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

He thought it was interesting, really, but he supposed his slight stutter and breathy laugh at the end must have distracted her from his point.

He turned to look at you for help, but you too had been focusing on the messages and wouldn't be available to do that. So he just agreed with JJ’s sentiment, which seemed to be enough for her to leave.

He sighed out in relief.

"The lady never answers. Have you noticed it yet, Dr. Reid?" You turn to him as you ask.

He immediately refocuses on to the case and tries his best to reply after his prior blunder. "Oh uh-- Right, the dialogue in the ballad seems to be fractured. Well, it's more of a monologue than a dialogue seeing that there is no exchange of information."

A small smile graces your lips at that, and you gesture with a nod to go report your findings.

"So it is. Let's get going."

He follows you to where Hotch and Elle were discussing the sexual aspect of the crime and sees you take your place next to your mentor. The same position you were in when he was blowing out his birthday candles, as he also inserts himself into the discussion.

"Sir, we believe what the unsub has written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad." You deliver, prompting your mentor to raise his brow at that.

"Most of?"

"Yeah, it's only one side of the conversation." Spencer adds. "There's no betwixt." He takes pride in your shared effort, which makes itself known by the smile that adorns his face.

Unfortunately, his satisfaction, isn't met with a positive reaction either as he sees Elle desperately trying not to make eye-contact, and your supervisor staring at him very pointedly.

He's thankful though at the little chuckle that you quickly try to hide behind a cough and a cover of your mouth to appear more professional. Quickly looking down at the ground.

He's happy that at least someone thought his joke was well-placed.

He continues to explain your theory about how the Lady in the narrative never answers, and that's enough for both Hotch and Elle to at least think about it.

Their attention is quickly stolen away however at an incoming call about a failed attempt nearby the precinct.

Quickly excusing themselves to get onto the scene as soon as possible, you see them call Gideon on their way out. Watching them as they leave the department doors.

But Spencer keeps his eyes on you as the thought just dawns on him.

You were the first one on the team to laugh at his jokes.

***

The more cases he works for the BAU, the more he realizes how much of his work isn't theoretical anymore. He feels it in the weariness in his eyes, the weight on his chest, and the shake of his hands.

Or maybe the shake is from the cold.

After all, he had dressed for the warm, California air. So now that he was in the cool, air-conditioned jet, he was seriously regretting not packing a sweater, at the very least.

He makes his way to the back of the aircraft after another successful investigation, and that's where sees you.

You had opted to shed your typically structured blazer on the seat beside you, leaving you in a softer blouse, both in color and form, that made everyone around you know that you were officially off duty.

It's a nice look on you, he thinks. A slight departure from your usually stern and hardened exterior. He wouldn't mind seeing a more relaxed version of you every once in a while.

A version of you that looked more your age and not constantly under the pressure of doing well.

He momentarily wonders if that's part of your mentor's influence as well.

He freezes a bit, as if catching himself in some depraved daydream, and takes a few steps back to return to the more vacant areas of the craft.

Before he can get any further though, you see him and beckon for him to come over with a tired wave of your hand.

"How's the flight treating you, Dr. Reid?" You ask, drowsiness lacing your tone as he sits on the seat opposite of you.

"Oh, it's the same as always, I guess. A little colder than usual, but that's to be expected. By the way, we’re actually lucky that we haven't experienced some semblance of turbulence yet on our flights, considering that the likelihood of it has increased by seventeen-percent in the last decade."

You laugh at that. "You really know just what to say, huh?"

He doesn't see it as funny as you do, so it seems. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or--" "There's no need to apologize, sir. I find everything you have to say interesting, whether you mean it to or not."

He stays silent at that, suddenly nervous, and tries to make himself comfortable. He does so in the hopes that he can finally steel himself to ask you that question.

He talked to Elle earlier when they were waiting for the unsub's call. Asked her if she thought it was weird that he knew what he knew, and if it had anything to do with his inability to get a date. She had reasoned with him that it was because he didn't ask, but it couldn't be that simple, could it?

He mulls it over in his head before sighing. Opting to give up and just wait for a more opportune time.

Besides, jury’s still out that you could very well be pining over his boss.

The action, however, seems to remind you of something.

"Before I forget," You look into your baggage, rummaging around before finally finding what it was you were looking for.

You ask him to close his eyes, which he obediently does, and you place a thick rectangular box into his awaiting lap.

The sudden shift in weight causes his eyes to open, and he is certainly surprised to see what was on there.

"What is this?"

"It's your birthday. There wasn't a good time to give it to you, so might as well."

He takes the box into his hands and shakes it a little.

From the sound alone, or near lack thereof, there could be a multitude of things inside it. He looks at you questioningly and you only smile and gesture for him to open it.

He takes his time in doing so, and he doesn't know how or why, but he finds your reactions to his movements much more amusing than whatever could be in the box. As if you were more excited for him.

He finally peers into the now open box to see some sort of purple cloth. A ribbon of geometric designs cutting through its middle and he stares at it in wonder.

"It's a scarf!"

You smile at him, and he was thankful that the rest of the team were either asleep or just not paying attention as it allowed the both of you to savor the moment with at least some semblance of privacy.

"I've noticed that you had a tendency to wear a lot of layers. I wasn't sure if it was because you were cold, or you just liked dressing that way, so I made an educated guess and got you something practical."

And just like that, he's over the moon.

He immediately goes to put it on with a wide smile, paying no mind that it paired so badly with the short sleeves of his button up.

Not that he would know, nor care.

And just when he had been feeling cold earlier too! "Thank you so much. This means a lot to me, especially since you don't usually give gifts."

You shake your head. "I don't, but it's not everyday one spends their twenty-fourth at the BAU."

He continues to observe the cloth that now hung around him. Smoothing his hands over it as he does with an expression unreadable to you.

You worry a bit and hurriedly mention, "I'm sorry if it isn't your color. I see purple show up on your mismatched socks more than any other color, so I just assumed. If it's any consolation, purple is a great color to contrast the warmer hues in brown eyes?"

He flushes at your admission, but matches your urgency to set you straight. "No! Please, I actually really like it-- It's beautiful."

You breathe out a sigh in relief and nod slowly at that.

"Speaking of the color, did you know the origin of purple dye is actually quite fascinating?" His voice filled with enthusiasm. With his eyes, bright, and filled with a child-like fascination that makes your chest feel warm at the sight.

"Historically, purple dye was incredibly rare and valuable, which is why it became associated with royalty and nobility. The earliest known purple dye, known as Tyrian purple, was produced by the ancient Phoenicians around 1200 BC. It was derived from the secretions of a particular type of sea snail, the bolinus brandaris, found in the Mediterranean Sea."

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was boring you, but sees that you're still very much paying attention to him.

"The process to obtain this dye was incredibly labor-intensive and complex. It required thousands of these sea snails to produce just a small amount of dye. The snails would then be collected and left to decompose in large vats. After several days, a gland from the snail was extracted and crushed to produce a purple mucus. This mucus would then be exposed to sunlight, undergoing a chemical reaction that transformed it into the deep, rich purple dye we commonly associate with our modern day equivalent."

As he kept going, he suddenly remembered what Morgan had told him all those weeks ago.

"Next time, try looking at what she does when you're the one talking."

So he does just that.

He observes the way that your shoulders are more relaxed, how your eyes never stray from him, and how the small upturned curve of your lip makes itself known as you rest your cheek onto your propped up fist.

How he has your undivided attention and yet you don't even look the least bit bored of what he has to say. Only silently appreciating and subtly nodding along with the slow blink of your eyelids.

All clear signs of unguarded comfort, and or interest, in his presence.

Had you really been looking at him like that all this time?

Now the idea of you liking your boss seems silly. Especially when you’re looking at him the way he imagines himself looking at you.

"I did know that, actually, Dr. Reid. At the time, Tyrian purple wasn't only desirable for its rarity, people said it was also incredibly lightfast. That it was resistant to fading under the sun and the weather. Not to mention all that hard work that just to get a single gram of it. Then again, modern studies do claim that its lightfastness was, in fact, not an accurate feature as it's color diminished when it was exposed to light and UV radiation."

You laughed a little again, as if remembering some anecdote, and that sound was steadily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Following only after your speaking voice.

"Fortunately for you, doctor, I could only afford a synthetically purple-dyed scarf. Though that means that you won't ever have to worry about it fading under the sun."

Hands up in faux surrender, you give him a tired smile that he returns with one of his own.

A calming silence enveloped the both of you as you continue to bask in each other's presence.

At some point you doze off, draping your blazer on top of yourself to shield yourself from the cold, and that's when he starts considering Elle's words again.

"Do you ever ask anyone out?"

"No,"

"That's why you can't get a date."

He nods to himself, and reclines a little more into his seat. Snuggling into his new scarf that still has the faintest smell of you.

Maybe he will ask you out on a a date later.

_____________________________

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areyouwell · 3 months ago

Note

Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations.

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck.

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel.

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously.

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids.

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck.

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one.

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath.

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child.

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever.

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine.

“Rough–”

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket.

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing.

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse.

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about.

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on.

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle.

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things.

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.”

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability.

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you.

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…”

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing.

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now.

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count.

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side.

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly.

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep.

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm.

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots.

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back.

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest.

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo.

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks.

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up.

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short.

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern.

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky.

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic.

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another.

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building.

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough.

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic.

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out.

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile.

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end.

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood.

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now…

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face.

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder.

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body.

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information.

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you.

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination.

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge.

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission.

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his.

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too.

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen.

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face.

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.”

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding.

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye.

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here.

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling.

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay?

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition.

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed.

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight.

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod,

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing.

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now.

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?”

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest.

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent.

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips.

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright.

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake.

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks.

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow.

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief.

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first.

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind.

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for.

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it.

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory. “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question.

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do.

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply.

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips.

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.”

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation.

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world.

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers.

Obviously.

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did.

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you.

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?”

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable.

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition.

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb.

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it.

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence.

“Sweetheart…”

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers.

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest.

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips.

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle.

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further.

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly.

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate.

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you.

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon.

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #the wolverine x reader #the wolverine #logan x you #x men wolverine #wolverine x you #x men x reader #essa's works

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wonysugar · 5 months ago

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wonder why i’m bitter | julie han

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. casual — chappell roan

synopsis : friends don’t act like this, you would know that better than anyone else.

pairing : non-idol!julie x fem!reader

genre : smut, angst, smutty angst, if you will! heavy on the angst though sorry.

tags : they were roommates,,, making out, marking, implied possessiveness, implied jealousy, anal rimming (heyyy), strap-on sex, vaginal penetration, cunnilingus, julie is bent ova, and YESS WHO SAID BACKSHOTS, arguing, topsub!femreader, bottomdom!julie, frequent mentions of sexuality, praise kink, cheating?? could you call this cheating,, one singular l-bomb,,, yikesss

warnings : none..? i guess apart from the obvious content warnings here (angst and smut) there’s some underlying internal homophobia themes?? but i don’t think it’s that bad tbh IDK BE WARNED JUST IN CASE

word count : 3,1k

a/n : haiii!! i’m finally posting this draft OUHH it went through so many changes, like for example THE TITLEE?? i was gonna make the title be a lyric to ‘goodluck, babe!’ by chappell roan since i originally based the fic on that but i ended up listening to casual instead and went woaahh,, this fits so much more what the hell?!? but yeahh i think i’m happy with how it turned out! :’) i hope you guys can say the sameedckem

ALSO! first time writing anything involving anal,, while yes i do talk about it often (ahem we all know,,) i was incredibly nervous in the process and this definitely made me step out of my comfort zone, hope it isn’t too apparent in this ;; but yeah, to stop rambling, thank you for reading!! i hope you like itt! :]]

“so…” julie’s friend makes a motion between the two of you with a raised eyebrow, wearing a curious smile. “what exactly are you two?” they ask. you thought about it for a few moments, theoretically, you two are roommates, friends at most. but, if anything, you’re more like a couple behind closed doors.

you shrug, thinking nothing of it, “i guess we’re kind of like—“

“we’re just friends.” she places, wearing a polite smile at the familiar in front of her before you could even think about the rest of your sentence. when you turn to look at her, she’s avoiding your gaze, already familiar with the type of expression you’re wearing.

it’s the face you always make when she pushes you away like this.

turning back to her friend, you nod slightly, “yeah. we’re friends.” trying your hardest not to let your dejection show through your smile.

maybe it’s all just in your imagination, perhaps you guys were never even close to being a ‘thing’ and you were the one who thought too much into it. but alas; no matter from which angle you looked at it, the way she displayed any ounce of affection towards you would always make you overthink what you two were exactly. anything she’d do in the comfort of your own apartment with you was never close to anything she’d do in public, in front of the eyes of everyone walking by. she always acts like she barely knows you whenever she is surrounded by people, whether she knows them or not.

you think about it often.

you think about her often.

you asked yourself, do you even like her like that? well, she’s pretty chill, smart, witty and funny. she’s also beautiful, and one hell of a tease, that much is obvious, you’ve had sex with her numerous times in the past, so sexual attraction is out of the question; you already knew the answer to that. the better question probably was; does she even like you like that?

“you done with them?” says julie, referring to the pile of kitchenware you guys left from last night on the counter as she hugs you from behind and rests her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapping all around your waist and watching you. you, on the other hand, were taken by surprise by the sudden display of affection, so much so that you lost your original train of thought. as much as you knew that she liked physical touch, it always did surprise you whenever you randomly felt her skin come in contact with yours throughout the day. getting quickly accustomed to the feeling of her lips kissing your shoulder, you hummed in response, washing and scrubbing the plate with the soaped-up sponge you were holding.

“almost.”

she whines in an exaggerated manner, “hurry uppp..” lightly tapping on your stomach and resting her head on your shoulder, before adding, “i miss you.”

you giggle, putting away the plate you were now done washing, quickly grabbing another dirty one, “i’m right here, though?”

“no like,” she left another kiss on your shoulder, “i miss you.”

you smirked, getting progressively more and more amused by the girl’s foreign, yet familiar behavior towards you, feeling her embrace you even tighter.

“oh yeah? well in that case, i miss you too, julie.”

you knew exactly what the girl in question meant by ‘i miss you’ and you would’ve teased her further if it weren’t for how impatient she was getting, despite how cute it was. her heavily annoyed sighs giving it away, despite those also being sprinkled with a tiny bit of humor.

“come onn, don’t play dumb with me, smartass.”

so, you pushed the oblivious act aside and obliged, setting the plate down before facing her.

your lips danced in sync with hers as you carried her to your bed. once you got there, you gently sat her down on the edge of the mattress, lips still intertwined whilst her hands glided along the curves of your body, tracing circles with the tip of her index finger on your soft skin.

you didn’t waste any time in laying her down moments later,, your mouth now eagerly roaming her neck and collarbone and leaving kisses down along her body, successfully marking it up. listening to her quiet hums, you proceeded to slide down her sweatpants, your hands tugging on the waistband.

now left in only her panties, you allowed your fingers to glide over the damp spot in between her legs, teasing the clothed entrance and taking in all of her reactions all at once.

looking at you through the light brown hair that fell perfectly on her face with hooded eyes and slightly upturned eyebrows, she whispered in a low, husky and raspy tone, “see, baby? see how wet i am for you?”

now, julie had this certain ability to turn even the most confident person alive on this earth into a nervous wreck.

you were, obviously, no exception from her spells. if anything, you, y/n, were a prime example.

you slowly nodded at her words, entranced, feeling yourself fall more and more at her mercy with each second that passed. that earned a smirk from her, putting her hand atop yours, before continuing, “you’re gonna be good and do something about it, right?”

you nodded once again, this time more eager.

“words, darling.” she whispered.

“yes,” you muttered in response, a mix of nervousness and eagerness taking over all five of your senses, “o-of course i will.”

she hummed, perfectly content with your adorable answer, before pulling you back into a hungry kiss for another long, pleasant while. that is, until she added something else between kisses, something that made you shudder.

“get the strap.”

immediately reaching for the drawer next to your bed upon hearing those words, lips still connected to hers, you obeyed and pulled the cabinet open, quickly pulling out the phallic silicone object residing in it as well as the harness, too impatient to feel even embarrassed about the sudden action.

it didn’t take long before the harness was tight around your hips, the brunette bent over in front of you at the edge of the bed with her panties pulled down to her thighs. you ravished in the sight; her perfect pink pussy sitting before you, slick and wet with desire, begging for you to finally please it properly, practically throbbing in anticipation. who were you to deny her of such pleasure?

you traced your index finger along her slit, your digit comfortably nestled in between her slippery folds as it slowly teased the entrance.

rewarded by the sweet sounds coming out of her, you wasted no more time and slowly leaned into her core, giving a long swipe of the tongue to her pussy.

“ohh shitt..” overhearing her moans, you smiled against her as you were now making out with her swollen cunt, intending to taste every drop of her slick, not wasting a single one. your lips circled around her bundle of nerves, giving it small and gentle sucks whilst one of your hands massaged her ass.

subconsciously, julie’s back arched with each movement that your tongue made inside her, her head hung low on the bed as she whimpered filthy praises, her sounds just slightly muffled from the white bedsheet she had over her mouth.

you heard them, though.

thank god you heard them.

after a long while of giving more than endless attention to her pussy, you felt your mouth move upwards by itself, driven by the pure desire to make her feel even better than she already was.

your tongue quickly made its way to her ass, roaming and dancing around her rim, which immediately earned a sharp gasp from her part. you’ve never made it a habit to eat julie’s ass, but whenever you did? it was always enough to cloud your brain with pure, raw want, and it always seemed to catch her pleasantly off-guard, since you’d always do it without any warning.

you attempted to relax her again by tracing slow circles around her hole with your muscle, before inserting it fully, which you could only assume worked, since you could hear her whines get longer and louder. “fuckk yes baby..” she shamelessly moaned, this time more audibly due to her raising her head up and looking back at you as best as she possibly could, “that’s it, such a sweet girl for me— ah..“

using one of your hands, you made sure to thoroughly stimulate her clit, rubbing circles around it and even going as far as to inserting two fingers inside her dripping cunt with your other hand in the process, all whilst the muscle in your mouth flicked way within her, drilling and wriggling as you hummed against her.

after what felt like hours of you messily rimming her, hours of her pushing herself further onto your mouth, practically fucking herself on you, you figured it was finally time to give her what’d she been wanting ever since she came up behind you in the kitchen.

pulling your fingers out and standing back up, you lined up your strap-on to her aching core, pressing the head against it before slowly inserting its entire length inside of her.

she let out a groan at the feeling of being penetrated, which progressively turned into longer and more suggestive sounds. it all sounded like music to your ears, it only made you want to please her more.

you reached for her hand, grabbing it upon contact. she squeezed yours with just as much force in return, pleasure visibly taking over her senses. it didn’t take long for you to be full on thrusting into her, either, feeling her walls clench around your fake cock as she babbled praises.

it was a small gesture, sure, but it made you feel things you weren’t quite certain on how to label.

“such a good girl for me—“ was what she let out, a loud moan escaping her agape mouth whilst you continued pounding her, faster with each second that passed. “f-fuck y/n i love you—“

you saw her lose herself under you, you watched in… admiration? infatuation? whatever it was, you thought she looked mesmerizing, especially with how her brown long hair fell all over the place, how perfect she sounded, how perfect she looked.

how perfect she was.

the words “i love you” resonated in your head.

“who’s eric?” you ask her, having thrown glances at her phone that was charging on the kitchen counter whilst washing a plate, the singular one you had left untouched due to being… distracted.

you finished washing it, then turned around, now met with a surprised julie, clothed in a pair of booty shorts and a white tank top, she was fresh out of the shower, towel drying her hair. that is, until she unexpectedly heard you speak that name, her eyes immediately darting between you and the phone, greeted by that man’s contact name and picture on the latter, an incoming phone call from his part.

“a guy?” she says back, in her usual sarcastic yet gentle and quiet tone, “thought that was obvious enough—“

jealousy and inexplicable possessiveness flooded your senses; you knew most of her friends, but, you had no idea who this ‘eric’ dude was, and that especially ate at you. why was he calling her, on a random weekday at like, 4 pm? you had checked the clock hanging on the wall to confirm the time.

“well yeah but, i don’t think i know an eric.” you stated, wary of what the girl before you was gonna say, “who is he?”

“…i just told you, some dude. i met him on campus and we just exchanged contacts after he complimented me, a while ago.” she replied, slight annoyance cracking through the facade of the joking expression she wore. she ran her dominant hand through her messy and wet hair, causing it to fall back perfectly on the side of her face and her exposed shoulders.

she added, “sure, he makes it very clear he wants to hook up with me, but that’s all it’ll ever be i think, he’s not the type of guy you’d wanna date seriously. why do you ask—“

“no reason.” you cut her off, cold and dry.

she furrowed her eyebrows, the previous annoyance being more and more apparent, this time only paired with confusion. “…what?”

“so this is completely normal for you? like, you guys hook up and call each other sometimes and you’re just casually telling me about it? what, does he take you out on dates too?”

“what are you, my girlfriend or something?” she scoffed, bitter and defensive, gently throwing the towel on the couch in close proximity to her, “and what if he does, why’s it such a big deal to you?”

why is it such a big deal to me?

and before you know it, you’re quickly matching her tone. “i simply don’t understand how you could tell me something so casually, especially right after we—“

“listen, let’s get this straight.” she says to you, “i know that just because you and i fuck sometimes you’re convinced that it’s gotta mean something, that we’re something, but we aren’t. it doesn’t fucking mean shit to either of us and you know that very well. it’s all in good fun; i don’t belong to you, y/n, and i never will.”

“it’s not about that?” you walked closer to her as you justified, trying to get your point across, “i’m not saying that you belong to me julie i’m just trying to say that—“

her stare pierces right through you as she cuts you off, and you could’ve sworn you noticed her eyes being glossy. her eyebrows furrowed in anger at you, she added on, “who i date isn’t your business. we’re just friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be, end of discussion. don’t try to turn our friendship into something it isn’t.”

friends?

“so now i’m the crazy one for not liking the fact that you’re talking to that dude?” you eventually yelled back. you didn’t even notice her grabbing her things as you talked, ready to head out, despite her hair still being wet from the recent shower. you, however, noticed how she took her still ringing phone and put on her favorite puffy jacket, her soft hand’s acrylic nails digging and clutching onto the mentioned cellular device as you rambled on and on, irritated beyond comprehension.

“we’re not fucking dating y/n, it’s all casual, i.. i’m not even into girls like that—” she asserted herself, trying her absolute hardest to sound as convincing as possible. you heard it, though, you heard that little twinge of doubt and guilt in her voice. it’s almost like she, herself, didn’t believe whatever nonsense was coming out of her mouth.

how funny was it to watch her say that all whilst having the fresh hickeys you left on her neck and collarbone not even a few hours ago?

perhaps eric will notice them, too.

perhaps with that, he’ll realize how good you treat her, how he’ll never be able to do it like you do.

how he’ll never be able to make her feel as good as you do.

“sure, you aren’t.” you scoffed at her words, before proceeding to add on, “since you swear you aren’t, how about you stop acting like you are? you know, instead of giving me shit for getting upset.”

“sorry?—“ she laughed bitterly, those words cut deep.

let me talk, you thought, let me place a damn word.

you continued, “no, seriously! you always do this julie, you always make me feel like i’m fucking insane for seeing it the way it is, for the way i see us. you’re convinced that there’s nothing between us, that we’re just friends, yet friends don’t randomly kiss me throughout the day for whatever reason, do they? they don’t fuck me and tell me that they love me in the process, do they?” as you spoke, she avoided your gaze and walked right past you, heading straight for the front door.

that’s when you recalled a certain moment, “sure, why not, let’s say, for your sake, that completely normal friends do fuck sometimes; they don’t buy you stupid lovey-dovey bullshit on valentine’s day and drive you to the middle of nowhere to stargaze, they do not take you out at night and take every opportunity to kiss you in public whenever nobody’s looking, they don’t fucking say they love you while you’re deep inside them— i mean for fuck’s sake julie do you hear yourself??”

she stopped in her tracks in front of the door, her hand resting on the doorknob. she hates it when you read her like a book, she hates it when you call her out on being the way she acts with you, she hates it when you stare at her like that— she fucking hates you. she fucking hates you for making her feel the way she does, for making her question everything about herself, she hates herself for thinking about you whenever she’s with him—

she let out a noise, something in between a sob and a laugh, before looking back at you with tear-filled eyes, she stared at you, up and down. her eyebrows twitching slightly, she then set her eyes on the ground and bit her lip in what seems to be frustration, frustration aimed both at you and herself.

“if i knew it was gonna be like this, i would’ve never done anything with you to begin with.” her voice was shaky.

you watched her figure as she turned the doorknob and slammed the door on you, with a loud clack. just like that, the apartment was empty, silent and once again, peaceful.

she’d be back, of course, whether she decides to sleep somewhere else and come back the next day or sneak back in here in the middle of the night on this same day, she always comes back after a fight. still, despite knowing that, you couldn’t help but feel like drowning in your own guilt, as this argument wasn’t like any other other. her pained expression still vivid in your memory and terrorizing you, you were afraid that you might never see her again after that.

that was pure dramatization, however.

the only thing that occupied the deafening silence of the room was the muffled sound of julie sniffling and being on the phone with who you assumed to be that boy, already planning to meet up. then, you could’ve sworn you heard the name “eric?” being pronounced as it progressively faded in the distance as she walked away, basically confirming your theory.

that’s all that filled your house and your clouded mind.

that, and the sound of your pathetic sobbing.

#smut #kpop gg #female reader #kiss of life smut #kiss of life #julie han x female reader #julie x female reader #kiof smut #julie han #kpop girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop gg smut #julie kiss of life #julie kiss of life smut #julie kiof #julie kiof smut

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bunny-jpeg · 3 months ago

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make 'em young dumb and full of cum

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, russell!reader, age gap (20s/50s), doggy style, (failed) pull out method, daddy kink, filth (!!!)

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toto wolff was a man who enjoyed the adrenaline of the race. both as a driver and as a head principal. but, lately, everything felt slower. while mercedes wasn't on top of the world yet, it was making good progress. but the slow days made toto want to sink his teeth into something.

"this is stupid george!" toto heard a voice nearby that took him away from his phone. he looked over in the direction of his driver and a girl by his car.

"aw, c'mon. you always talk about how you have no way to show off to your friends that your brother is a formula one driver! you can get a little closer the car, it won't bite!"

toto took a second glance at you and his stomach sank. he knew about george's family, and had even met them on more than one occasion. but george had a sister who rarely if never around the track due to her being away for school. something about a master's program.

but as you shifted a little closer to george's car and smiled at the camera, flashing a peace sign, toto knew where to sink those canines into next.

toto had thought out this entire plan. he had put all of his skills to use, figuring out how to get such a precious woman into his bed. he was quite a bit older than you, and in all honesty, he wasn't even certain that you liked older men.

but you came to him like a gift from heaven. you were in his hotel room, with your clothes off. a compromising position for the sister of one of the best driver's in the world. it was even more scandalous that toto was standing in front of you. his arms crossed and his eyes staring down at you.

you felt so much more smaller, physical you were. he towered over you. the man was over six feet tall, and he was a great bit older than you. it was a domineering factor in every way, size, age, status, wealth. you were some little university student and toto wanted to devour you whole.

"you look lovely."

you shifted a little, "i'm pretty sure you could've found someone hotter in the stands, mr. wolff." you swallowed a little. the focus on you was a little too much. you had become so used to your brother being the center of everything, you were fine with being left alone. but to feel toto's searing gaze on you, heated by an undeniable lust was a bit much.

"don't look away from me." he said as he took you by the jaw and made you look up at him. he admired your beauty. those beautiful eyes, the softness of your bottom lip. the small scar on your cheek, it made toto a little curious. he wondered how many more scars and marks littered your body upon inspection.

you looked different than your brother, but in a good way. toto didn't want to fuck the female version of his driver. you were your own woman, and toto couldn't get enough.

"i'm sorry, sir."

he chuckled, "sir sounds very nice on your tongue. but i know a word that sounds better." when you perked up at his words, he added, "daddy."

the change in your expression made him chuckle before he leaned down to kiss you deeply on the lips. you were a fine woman, perfect like wine.

you whimpered, "daddy!"

he pulled away and started to undress. maybe next time you'll wear one of his button ups to the track. keep you nice and safe, thinking of daddy while he works. you swallowed when he got his under shirt off, followed by his expensive leather belt and his slacks. everything was off and on the floor before he got on the bed beside you.

"why don't you get on your hands and knees for me, beautiful." his large hand was on your thigh, fingers threatening to get in between your legs.

you nodded and kissed him once more. you felt a flutter in your chest. there was a angle of this that said it was wrong. but, you were both adults. and it wasn't like your brother would find out. plus, the attention that toto gave you made you feel electric. it was unlike any other man you had ever been with.

they were boys. toto was a man.

his gaze lingered as you got further up onto the bed, your face buried in the softness of the pillows with your hips angled upwards to have easy access for toto. toto soon got behind you, on his knees. his back was curved to get closer to you. the size difference was noticeable.

but he liked them smaller, struggling to take even his fingers. watch them become so soft and warm around his aching cock. and you were just euphoria when he managed to stuff his entire cock inside of you. your back arched and you hips raised further, you whined sweetly into the covers.

his hands were placed on your hips and he started to rut up against you. he could feel the heat pool in his gut. you were beautiful. he started to rut against you, moving his hips up against you. you fit him perfectly.

"you'll pull out right?" you asked meekly.

he reached for the back of your head and rubbed it gently, "of course, schatzi. of course. no need to worry."

you visibly relaxed more which allowed toto more of an opportunity to move against you. he pushed you further into the mattress with each heavy thrust. he pressed you further down by the back of your head which gave him more leverage.

you held onto the covers and tried to meet his pace. look at you, trying to hard to be a good girl for toto. he loved the feeling of you against him, you were a sweet little vice that milked him for all he was worth. a woman like you was dangerous, you could have the whole paddock under your thumb if you chose so.

but you'd never do that, right? you'd behave. plus, call toto a possessive old man, but he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that you didn't slip between his fingers. you were a prize to be kept. maybe it was a small blessing that you hadn't been at the paddock as much, if toto caught sight of you sooner. by now you would've been married with two children. kiss goodbye to you undergraduate degree.

"please. daddy." you whimpered.

the bed moved a little bit under your motions. his soft groaning was over shadowed by your louder whimpers. the heavy breathing and the squeaking of the bed filled the room. your cunt was soaked and he speared into you with a quickened pace.

"you feel so good, my treasure." he said as he leaned over you. next time he'd love to see your face and to hear your noises better. not muffled by the soft hotel pillows under your head.

"thank you, daddy." you replied. already so good for him.

where had george russell been keeping you this whole time? his precious sister off away to university. maybe it was the best that you were so far away for school for so long. for toto's own sanity.

if he knew you were the apple in the garden of eden then maybe he would've second guessed having you in his hotel room. but now he was hooked in a way, anything to keep this precious woman under him.

all the thing he wanted to do you.

his pace staggered, your cunt was a vice around him. he needed to fill you to the brim, he needed to know that he marked you properly. there was no need to be playing around with boys anymore. not when you had a man like toto by your side. his pace only got more erratic, when your back arched further and you climaxed. your head buried in the covers.

"ah!! toto!" you whimpered loudly as you clawed at the covers under you with those pretty pink nails. everything about you was perfect. he finished inside of you and you made such a sweet noise. you said softly, "wait, wait! you were supposed to pull out."

toto just wrapped a strong arm around you and said to you softly, "don't worry, schatzi. it won't take." not yet.

george russell got a shiny little contract wrapped in a bow about two weeks later. a promise that mercedes would be his home. toto said that he greatly believed in the driver.

and toto got a winter break in monaco with the sweetest thing since honey. he may have been lying to george, a little bit. a little white lie never killed anyone. in reality, he wanted you as close as he could get you.

true, if george moved to a different team, toto would still see you. the problem is that you wouldn't be wearing the mercedes colours. you'd be in something more garish. he needed you close, if he had to he'd put you in the shirts he wore to the races. something to stake a claim, as if your cunt was sticky with his cum at all times.

"good girl." he said softly into your ear, "your brother was pretty excited about that raise in pay." he moved up against your slowly, "you helped me make that decision."

you arched your back and gripped onto the expensive covers. you whimpered, "really, daddy?"

"yes.' he kissed the shell of your ear, "and next year will be even bigger, if you do one little thing for me, schatzi."

you nodded, always eager to please. your cunt was tight around his cock as he pressed into you.

he held your hair and pressed you a little further into the bed, "you be good for me for the entire season. take a year off of school." he hoped one year would turn into two, and two would turn into a drop-out. toto was a man who loved action. but, he also loved the idea of making george russell's sister his bride. <3

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ddejavvu · 4 months ago

Note

Ok so smut idea for Tyler! Tyler’s shy and sweet gf who gets all horny and needy while he’s gone so she sends him some nudes or like a dirty vid and Tyler is totally thrown because that’s not his sweet innocent girl?? Is it??

Caught off Guard - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Tyler's never had a problem with opening a message from you in front of his crew. You love him more than life itself, Tyler knows that, but you're almost painfully shy, and the most racy thing you've ever said to him over text was that he looked 'handsome'. In private, in the secluded space of your shared bed, filthier things come from between your sweet pink lips, but over text you're always civilized.

It's why he's so taken aback that he nearly doesn't turn the sound down on his phone when he presses play on the video you'd sent him. It's nothing but a black screen originally but your sweaty, flushed face pops into frame when you lift the phone.

All anyone at the makeshift table is able to hear before he turns the volume down is Tyler's own name, and he's wildly, viscerally grateful that it hadn't been something more suggestive.

"Woah!" Tyler coughs over a mouthful of cheap beer, chest heaving as you showcase your two fingers pressed together with a slick substance coating them, dripping from them, "I gotta- y'all eat without me, I'm- I have to go."

"Is Y/N okay?" Lilly peers up worriedly at him, the typically brash storm chaser reduced to a pouting mother hen at Tyler's urgency, "She sounds like she's crying."

"She's fine." Tyler's already jogging towards their motel room, struggling with the keys in his pocket to jam the card inside of the door, "Don't bother me, and- and don't let anyone touch my beer!"

He's fairly certain that before the door even shuts behind him, Dani is already chugging it, but he can't bring himself to care.

He reloads the video, turning the volume up so that he can hear your voice again, "Tyler, I- I need you so bad right now. I've been feeling- aagh! I've been feeling like this all day, and I just- I keep trying, but I can't do it like you can!" You sob, your face screwing up as you desperately try getting yourself off, "Look, look! This is- I'm so wet, Tyler I'm so wet thinking about you, and I just can't- I can't finish, I need you I need- hnngh! Tyler," You cry, tears spilling out over your lower lashes and down your humid cheeks, "I need you!"

Tyler's hands tremble as he jams his thumb onto the 'call' button. His jeans are uncomfortably tight now, and one of his hands is already palming against the denim before he realizes that he's even hard. He acts on instinct, tucking the phone beside his ear and panting when the rough fabric of his jeans rubs flush against the angled head of his cock.

You pick up on the first ring, "Ty!"

"Baby," He breathes, groaning as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, "Shit, honey, you can't- you can't fuckin' do that to me."

"I need you," You're still crying, perhaps moreso now that Tyler's voice is in your ear but your cunt is devoid of his erection.

"'Thought I was gonna bust at the fuckin' table," He scoffs, stroking over his leaking cockhead, "Shit, baby, sendin' me pretty little videos like that? You're feelin' brave today, huh?"

"It hurts, Ty," You sob, "I- I need you."

"Shit, say it again." He pleads, already fucking his fist with vigor, uncontrollably turned on by your sudden, bold change in demeanor.

"I need you!" You cry, and Tyler's throat grows sore with the volume of the groan he releases as you hopelessly grind on your too-small fingers, "Please, Ty, i need you so bad!"

"Shit," Tyler curses, wondering if he's ever cum faster in his life, slightly embarrassed yet still raring to go as he hears your needy gasps, "Oh, fuck, baby, you're- you're all mine. I've got you, we're on our way back home. I'm gonna- agh, I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress, baby, just you wait."

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens blurb #tyler owens drabble #glen powell x reader #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens smut

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ohhiimweird · 15 days ago

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Looking out the Window

In which Sunday learns about your favorite view on the express, but he's a little distracted

Character: Sunday

Reader Pronouns: They/them

Other Tags: Sunday is on the express, Post-2.7, 2.7 spoilers, Sunday is hardcore pining and it's kinda cringe

Sunday has never been without the crumbling pressure of responsibility on his shoulders. It's been happening ever since he was a child. That might've been why it's so hard for Sunday to adjust to being aboard the Astral Express. Of course, there were duties the passengers attended to. However, they were more like banal chores than actual duties. Sunday was a family head, though. Perhaps he shouldn't demand much more. He was merely glad that everyone on the express let him join them, even after all that he's done. It's also why Sunday couldn't seem to fall asleep for three days straight.

He wasn't sure why he went to the parlor car tonight. In the back of his mind, there was the thought of needing a change of scenery. That's where he found you staring out the huge window of the astral express. It was about the size of a wall.

The first time he saw you was at the Reverie Hotel. He knew then that you were beautiful. There was a blatant curiosity in your eyes that captivated the man. It as only a look you both shared in that moment. Words were not needed, not to Sunday.

You gave him that same look when you noticed shim in the parlor car. Sunday stopped in his tracks. Your gaze wasn't malicious, yet it felt like he was caught doing something bad.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" you asked. Your smile was so warm and inviting in the low light.

"I-I" Sunday covered up his stutter with a cough. "I suppose so. I thought merely a change of scenery would help me relax."

Sunday kept his distance, merely staring out the window, wondering what in particular you were looking at. There had to be something interesting in this sea of stars before you.

"Come on. Sit," you patted the seat next to you. "I'm not gonna bite."

Sunday hesitated. His heart jumped in his chest. Then, he decided to sit next to you. This is the closest he'd ever gotten to you physically. Wow. He was sitting next to you. It gave his spine chills without even meaning to.

"This is my favorite view on the express," you said. "I always come out here when I can't sleep. There are so many stars, planets, and galaxies out there, and we haven't gone to them yet. It changes with every stop too, so there's always new scenery."

Sunday glanced out the window. Right now, you are looking at Penacony from the outside. It's odd seeing his home planet from this angle. Never in a million years did he think he'd travel outside of Penacony. He wasn't like Robin, who had such a yearning for the stars, wanting to sing her songs for the whole universe. Right now, Sunday was at the threshold of home and something alien to him. He looked away, not wanting to be reminded of the home he lost and the sister he disappointed. Instead, he focuses on your beauty, your eyes lighting up from seeing the stars.

"Yes, it's quite beautiful," Sunday said while looking at you. He didn't want to offend you by saying it, but he was more captivated by your appearance than by the stars. Their radiance could not compare to you.

"Hey, you're not even looking," you huffed.

"I'm sorry. I got a bit distracted," Sunday said. "I found an even better view."

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader

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cruel-seduction · 18 days ago

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Night Changes

(Based on a request sent by @moonymeloncholymoney, I accidentally deleted your request but hopefully I remembered your username so here it is. I have tried to come up with something. I hope it's worthy. Feel free to request next time if you have any other scenario. Love you <3)

CONTENT WARNING - Proceed with caution: this story contains excessive fluff, nostalgia, Sirius being his usual dramatic self, James developing a questionable man-crush on Hrithik Roshan, and Peter quietly wondering if everyone’s lost their minds. Oh, and Remus Lupin? He’s here to single-handedly raise your standards for boyfriends. ,and possibly a bit too much snark—don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Summary - Remus Lupin has his own ways of making you feel why exactly you choose him. When You started missing your childhood, he knew exactly what to do.

────୨ৎ────

The library was quiet, the air thick with the familiar scent of old parchment and ink. The glow of candlelight flickered gently across the room, casting soft shadows that danced on the wooden tables. Remus sat across from you, his chair slightly angled as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully focus on his book.

His gaze kept flickering up, catching the way your brows furrowed slightly as you stared at the pages before you. You hadn’t turned a single page in nearly ten minutes, and the way you were gripping your quill—so tightly it looked like it might snap—was enough to make him sigh softly.

“Alright, that’s it,” he said, closing his book with a decisive thud. The sound made you jump slightly, your eyes darting up to meet his. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head just enough to seem casual. But the way your eyes shifted away from his gave you away entirely.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said gently, leaning forward so that his forearms rested on the table. His voice was soft, his concern evident in every syllable. “Sad, even. And before you say you’re fine—”

“I am fine,” you interrupted quickly, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Remus stared at you for a moment, his honey-brown eyes scanning your face as though searching for the crack in your facade. He let out a soft hum, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” he said simply, though his tone was far from convinced. “If you’re fine, then I suppose that’s the end of it.”

You nodded, relieved that he wasn’t pushing further. But the way his gaze lingered on you, thoughtful and almost calculating, sent a small pang of guilt through your chest.

────୨ৎ────

Two days later, the guilt had turned into something heavier. Remus wasn’t one to pry unnecessarily, but his worry for you was becoming more evident. The way he’d gently squeeze your hand when passing in the halls, the soft but concerned “Are you alright, love?” he’d murmur when you seemed particularly distant.

You wanted to tell him you were fine. You wanted to be fine.

But that evening, as the two of you sat together in his dorm, the familiar warmth of the fire casting a golden glow across his features, Remus finally pressed again.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. “We’re not doing this anymore.”

You blinked, glancing up from where you’d been idly fiddling with the hem of your jumper. “Doing what?”

“This,” he said softly, gesturing toward you. “You pretend you’re alright when you’re not. I know you, baby. And I know something’s been eating at you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could speak, Remus leaned forward, cupping your face gently with one hand. His thumb brushed against your cheek as his lips pressed softly to your forehead.

“I know you’re not, baby,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “So please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The tenderness in his voice unraveled you. The walls you’d been so carefully holding up crumbled, and before you knew it, the words were spilling out.

“I miss my family,” you admitted, your voice shaky. You hesitated, glancing away as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But Remus’s hand on your cheek kept you grounded, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin.

“I miss… my cousins, my siblings. We used to live together—a big, noisy, chaotic house. We’d stay up all night watching movies, all four of us crammed into the smallest room because it felt cozier that way. There’d be snacks everywhere, arguments over who got the biggest share, and ridiculous fights about which movie to watch next.”

You let out a soft, tearful laugh, the memories vivid in your mind. “It was always so silly, but it was ours. And now… one of them is getting married. It feels like everything’s changing so fast. We grew up too quickly, you know? I just… I just want to go back. Back to when I was that little six-year-old with pigtails, running around the house with my cousins, no worries, no responsibilities. Just… us.”

Your voice broke slightly, and you felt a tear escape, sliding down your cheek. You quickly swiped at it, forcing a smile even as more tears threatened to fall.

“I’m sorry for being like this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “For… I don’t know. Being stuck in the past, I guess.”

Remus’s hand shifted, both of them now holding your face as he leaned forward, his gaze steady and filled with so much love it made your chest ache.

“Stop that,” he said firmly, though his tone was still impossibly gentle. “You have nothing to apologize for. Missing the people you love? Wishing you could hold onto those moments a little longer? That’s not silly—it’s beautiful. It just shows how much you care.”

He leaned in, pressing another kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly.

“And for the record,” he said, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips, “if you ever want to relive the chaos of fighting over snacks and watching movies, I am more than willing to argue with you over popcorn. And more than willing to make everything go away from your mind. You know what I mean” He smirks and raises his eyebrows.

You let out a watery laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in your chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a wink, earning another laugh from you.

The warmth of his words, his presence, and the sheer sincerity in his eyes melted away the ache that had been weighing on you for days. You felt lighter, like a piece of your heart had finally found its way home.

As you rested your head against his chest, his arms wrapping securely around you, you couldn’t help but smile.

And in that moment, Remus knew exactly what to do.

────୨ৎ────

The week that followed felt like a blur of passing days and stolen glances. You and Remus barely crossed paths, caught in the whirlpool of schoolwork, house duties, and, in his case, whatever the Marauders were plotting. You’d see him occasionally in the Great Hall, his head bent low as James leaned in to whisper something conspiratorial, both of them bursting into laughter moments later. You two used to sit together but you thought maybe he needs some time so you sit with your group.

At first, it didn’t bother you. Remus could be consumed by his friends and their antics now and then—that was just part of who he was, and you adored that about him. But as the days stretched into a week, a small pit of unease settled in your stomach. He hadn’t even paused to sit with you under the usual tree in the courtyard, where the two of you would talk about everything and nothing while the hours melted away.

Still, you shrugged it off, convincing yourself that the Marauders were probably up to their usual mischief. Maybe planning an elaborate prank that required all hands on deck. You tried not to take it personally, even though a part of you missed the quiet comfort of his company.

The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of leaves above you, casting soft dappled light over the page of the book in your lap. You were perched against your favorite tree on the edge of the courtyard, the rough bark pressing lightly against your back. The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass, and a gentle breeze ruffled the hem of your robes.

You had just turned a page in your book when you heard the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps on the stone pathway. You looked up, your brow furrowing as Peter Pettigrew skidded to a stop a few feet in front of you, his round face flushed and slightly out of breath.

“Hey!” he panted, doubling over with his hands on his knees for a moment before straightening up.

“Peter?” you said, blinking at him. “What’s going on?”

Peter fumbled with something in his hands, and you realized it was an invisibility cloak. He thrust it toward you without preamble, the fabric spilling over his arms like liquid silver.

“Remus wants to see you,” he said quickly, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. “Oh, okay. When?”

“Tonight,” Peter replied, his tone clipped and hurried. “In his dorm.”

“Wait, what—” you started, standing up and brushing bits of grass off your robes. “Why couldn’t he just tell me himself? And why the cloak?”

But before you could get another word out, Peter had already turned on his heel. “Just—just go, alright?” he called over his shoulder, already jogging away toward the castle.

“Peter, wait!” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

You stood there for a moment, the invisibility cloak draped over your arms and a puzzled frown on your face. The whole interaction felt... odd. Remus wasn’t the type to send messages through someone else. If he wanted to see you, he usually found you himself, his calm and steady presence impossible to ignore.

Still, the thought of seeing him after a week apart made your chest flutter with anticipation. Shaking your head to clear your doubts, you sat back down, folding the cloak neatly and placing it beside you.

You glanced down at your book, the words blurring together as your thoughts drifted to the evening ahead. What could he want to talk about? Was something wrong? Or maybe this was just his way of making up for the week of silence.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you closed the book, tucking it under your arm. Focus, you told yourself. If Remus wanted to make a big deal of this, then the least you could do was meet the occasion.

Your mind wandered to your wardrobe, mentally sifting through options. Something casual, but not too casual—after all, this was Remus. Maybe the soft sweater he always said looked nice on you, paired with—

You shook your head again, laughing softly at yourself. “It’s just Remus,” you murmured under your breath, though the way your heart raced at the thought of him made you think otherwise.

The biting chill of the winter night crept into the castle, its icy fingers weaving through the drafty corridors and sneaking under doors. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, no matter how many layers you wore. You’d bundled up as best you could—an oversized hoodie that practically swallowed you whole, paired with your fluffiest pajama bottoms, patterned with tiny stars that shimmered faintly in the low light of your dorm.

A woolen cap covered your head, its edges tugged down snugly over your ears to stave off the cold. You wrapped your favorite muffler around your neck, the soft fabric brushing against your nose, which, predictably, had started running again. Winters always did this to you—your nose would run, your cheeks would flush, and the occasional sneeze would sneak up on you at the worst times.

You sniffled, frowning slightly as you pulled the invisibility cloak over your head. The fabric settled around you like water, rendering you invisible to the world. It felt strange, sneaking out of your room like this, but the note of urgency in Peter’s earlier message had left you little choice.

You crept through the dormitory with practiced ease, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that always threatened to give you away. The common room was empty, save for the dying embers in the fireplace casting a faint, flickering glow across the room. The cloak swirled around you as you moved, the silence of the castle amplifying the soft sound of your footsteps against the cold stone floor.

The chill grew sharper as you climbed the stairs to the Marauders’ shared room, your muffler pulled up to cover your nose. You paused outside their door, hesitating for a moment as your breath fogged the air in front of you.

Knocking softly, you waited, half expecting to hear Sirius’s teasing voice or James’s overly enthusiastic greeting. But the door remained stubbornly closed, the silence on the other side thick and unyielding.

You knocked again, a little louder this time, but still nothing. Your brows furrowed as you shifted on your feet, the weight of the cloak suddenly feeling heavier.

“Okay, then,” you muttered under your breath, your fingers curling around the cold metal handle. With a quiet click, you pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

The usually chaotic room had been transformed into something entirely unexpected. A bed near the far corner of the room was covered in a soft blanket of fairy lights, their warm glow casting an ethereal shimmer over the dark wood. The lights weren’t just draped haphazardly—they were carefully arranged, framing the bed like a halo and weaving through the posts in delicate loops.

Scattered across the blanket were a few small cushions in mismatched colors, as though someone had raided the common room for every cozy pillow they could find. A small tray sat at the foot of the bed, holding what looked like steaming mugs of hot cocoa, the faint scent of chocolate wafting through the air and mingling with the faint hint of pine that lingered in the room.

But what struck you most was the sight of the Marauders themselves. All four of them stood near the bed, their expressions a mix of nervous anticipation and barely contained excitement. Sirius was the first to notice you, his face lighting up with that unmistakable mischievous grin as he elbowed James in the ribs.

“Look who’s here,” Sirius drawled, his voice dripping with exaggerated nonchalance.

James turned toward you with a wide smile, his arms crossed as though he were trying to play it cool. “Took you long enough,” he teased, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Peter waved awkwardly, his round face flushed with what looked like a mixture of pride and embarrassment. And then there was Remus, standing slightly off to the side, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jumper. His gaze was steady, his warm eyes locking onto yours the moment you stepped inside.

You tore your gaze away from them for a moment, your eyes landing on the centerpiece of the room—a muggle laptop perched precariously on a makeshift stand made of stacked textbooks. The screen was frozen on a scene from a movie you’d recognize anywhere, no matter how many years passed.

Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham.

Your stomach flipped at the sight, your heart caught somewhere between nostalgia and confusion. It was a movie you’d seen more times than you could count, a staple of your childhood that you’d practically memorized. But seeing it here, in the middle of the Marauders’ dorm room, surrounded by fairy lights and cocoa and the faces of your friends, felt... surreal.

You looked back at Remus, your brows furrowing slightly as you tilted your head in question. “What...?” you began, your voice trailing off as a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

But he didn’t answer, not yet. Instead, he took a step closer, his expression calm and steady as the others watched silently, a knowing spark in their eyes.

And though the question lingered on your lips, you felt the flicker of something warm settle in your chest.

────୨ৎ────

Remus stepped forward, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting golden highlights across his sharp cheekbones and kind eyes. His gaze never wavered as he closed the small distance between you, the familiar warmth of his presence enveloping you like a favorite blanket

Slowly, his hand came up to cup your cheek, his fingers warm against your slightly chilled skin. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone in a tender, absentminded motion, and you saw the faintest flicker of nerves in his expression—like he wasn’t sure if this was enough, if this would ever be enough to convey how much he cared.

“You missed these moments,” he began softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. The sincerity in his tone made your heart clench. “So I tried to bring those moments to you. I know it’s not perfect. It’s probably not even close to what you wanted, but...” He paused, the corners of his mouth twitching in a faint, almost shy smile. “Even if it makes you feel nice for just a second, I’ll feel blessed.”

You felt the familiar sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t born of sadness. Happiness and love bubbled up inside you, threatening to spill over as you stared at the boy who always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you couldn’t say it yourself.

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was equal parts gratitude and affection. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you gently as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

The sound of exaggerated gagging shattered the moment, and you broke apart just in time to see Sirius dramatically clutching his chest. “Oh, Merlin, they’re doing that again,” he groaned, his voice dripping with mock horror. He pointed a finger at you, And naked his head “One night. One night I want without seeing you two snog. One night. Give me a break.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up as you glanced back at Remus. His lips were quirked into a wry smile, his hand still resting lightly on your arm.

“Should we stop?” you asked, your voice teasing.

“Definitely not,” Remus replied without hesitation, earning another groan from Sirius.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away and joined the others on the bed, settling into the cozy pile of blankets and cushions. The muggle laptop still displayed the paused frame of Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, and you felt a warm pang of nostalgia as you looked at it.

“We charmed it,” James explained, patting the laptop proudly. “It’ll play in Hindi for you and in English for us. You know, so we can all follow along.”

“That’s... actually brilliant,” you admitted, a little surprised.

“Thank you,” James said, puffing out his chest. “I am a genius.”

Remus snorted. “You didn’t do the charm, James. I did.”

“Well, I supervised,” James shot back, grinning.

As the movie began to play, you quickly found yourself lost in its familiar rhythms. The opening scenes felt like slipping into a favorite memory, and despite the occasional interruptions from the boys, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Wait, wait,” James interrupted during one scene, leaning forward with wide eyes. “Who’s this guy? The one with the... the abs?”

You stifled a laugh. “That’s Hrithik Roshan,” you said, the name rolling off your tongue like second nature.

James whistled low, nudging Sirius. “Look at that guy! I mean, come on. Those arms are unreal.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius scoffed, tossing a pillow in James’s direction. “I could pull that off if I wanted to.”

“Sure you could,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “But Hrithik Roshan isn’t just about the abs, you know. He’s got moves.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you unbidden. “He is ridiculously handsome,” you admitted, and immediately regretted it when three heads turned to look at you in mock scandal.

“Wait, wait,” Sirius said, holding up a hand. “You’re saying you had a crush on him? And you never told us?”

“Not just Hrithik,” you added, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Shah Rukh Khan too. I mean he is just too much, His dimples are also very cute. I had a crush on him since I was 10 or 11 years old.”

Remus’s jaw dropped in exaggerated offense, and he clutched his chest as though you’d physically wounded him. “You mean to tell me I have competition?”

“Oh, loads of it,” you teased, grinning at him. “Better step up your game, Lupin.”

The others roared with laughter, Sirius wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Don’t worry, Moony,” he said, slapping Remus on the back. “You’ve got something those blokes never will—an unhealthy obsession with books and chocolate.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile.

The rest of the movie was filled with moments like that—Sirius and James bombarding you with dumb questions about the plot, Peter’s wide-eyed fascination with the lavish sets, and Remus quietly pointing out every little detail he noticed, his whispered observations making you smile even more.

When the emotional scenes played, you caught Remus sneaking glances at you, his hand brushing against yours under the blanket. And when the iconic songs began, Sirius couldn’t resist attempting to mimic the choreography, earning loud protests from James about blocking the screen.

By the time the credits rolled, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and the room was filled with the warm hum of shared laughter.

And as you leaned back against Remus’s chest, his arms wrapping snugly around you, you couldn’t help but think that this—this messy, chaotic, and utterly perfect night—was exactly what you needed.

169 notes · View notes

msbigredmachine · 3 months ago

Text

Butterscotch & Chocolate (Roman Reigns/OC/The Rock)

What’s better than a hunky, rich and powerful Samoan boyfriend? Why, two, of course! 😉🤤

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem reader/The Rock

Warnings: Smut, Threesome

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I planned to post this as far back as April at the peak of the Final Boss arc. Sorry I'm late 😭. Based on the Jimmy Fallon interview before Wrestlemania 40.

Enjoy!

-----------------

It’s always amazing to witness your man’s ease in swapping personas for entertainment purposes. From the feral, bloodthirsty beast that rules the wrestling ring to the dapper, charming gentleman currently chatting it up with Jimmy Fallon on his late night talk show in Manhattan. Seeing up close how one of a kind Roman Reigns is, is something you never get tired of experiencing, whether it’s in the ring, in front of the media, or behind closed doors, specifically between the sheets…his favorite place to be with you. Now here you are, in a swanky dressing room in New York on a Wednesday night when you’d normally be at home, probably working. This is a welcome, more glamorous change of environment all thanks to your boyfriend.

He’s also made dinner plans for after the show, which is why you’re all dressed up in a daring little slip dress and a pair of open-toed stilettos, with your toenails painted white, his favorite color on your feet. The dress has a thigh-high slit, which is perfect because you want him to have full access to the goodies tonight. You wonder what he has planned afterwards. Are you fucking tonight? You’d better be. He’s been away from you for weeks, and FaceTime sex, as good as it is, is not sufficient for your horny little self.

The door to the dressing room swings open and Roman walks in, a cute smile curving those lips you love to kiss. "All done! You ready, baby girl?" he asks.

The term of endearment coming from such a deep, whiskey-smooth tone like his always makes you shiver. You nod eagerly and get to your feet, smoothing out the sleek satin fabric of your dress. He makes his way to you, drinking in your appearance with smoldering eyes and a low whistle that warms your bronzed cheeks.

"I can’t get over how beautiful you look. Give Daddy a twirl, baby." He lifts your hand in the air, pleased as you oblige him, then tugs you close to meet his lips. You sigh softly as his free hand immediately finds your round derriere, giving it a generous squeeze. You love how you never seem to get enough of each other, always need to touch each other.

And you’re not the only one who notices.

“Jesus Christ, get a room.”

Roman laughs softly against your mouth before turning his head with a happy grin. Your heart lurches inside your chest at the sound of the other deep voice, your cheeks growing warmer as your boyfriend's new partner in crime locks eyes with you from across the dressing room. You inwardly hope Roman cannot feel the shiver that caresses your skin.

Dwayne Johnson has more or less become part of your life since his Final Boss angle for Wrestlemania was signed off at the start of the year. The first time he showed up at Roman’s doorstep, you freaked out. It was The Rock, after all. You had a huge crush on him when you were younger and initially, you found his size and status intimidating. But he’s turned out to be a sweetheart, always checking up on you, providing support whenever you need it. He seems to genuinely care about you, and Roman thinks the world of him, too. But as your friendship deepens, so have your feelings. Though you’ve done a good job of keeping them at bay, it’s become more difficult each time he stares at you like he wants to fuck you where you stand, which is all the time now.

And secretly, you like it.

"We should get going guys, I'm getting pretty hungry…" Dwayne drawls. You don’t miss the heat in his eyes as they rake down your frame. You can’t help but stare back either; he looks incredible. The definition in his arms, chest and legs is on display through the silver satin of his garb. He and Roman are such babes; gorgeous, sophisticated older men that appeal highly to your tastes.

Your next destination is shrouded in mystery. You have no idea where you are going and Roman gives nothing away. Seated between the two huge men in the back of a sleek G63, you snuggle close to your boyfriend, sharing soft, sweet kisses with him and enjoying the comforting circles of his fingers on your hip. Dwayne seems to take the PDA in stride, accustomed to it. But feeling him so close makes you wish he can touch and caress you too.

As Roman answers a phone call, you check on the other man, not wanting him to feel excluded. “You good, big guy? You’re quiet,” you say to Dwayne, resting your hand on his knee. You feel him tense at your touch, his eyes shutting for a brief moment.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry ‘bout lil ole me,” he simply answers, his hand brushing over the top of yours in a gesture intimate enough to send shivers of desire down your spine. If Roman notices the exchange, he doesn’t show it.

The car eventually arrives at a harbor. The illuminated boardwalk welcomes you to a sizable boat and all its luxury. Roman’s much larger hand engulfs yours as he leads you onto the yacht, with Dwayne right behind you, most likely staring at your ass. A maitre'd guides you to an exquisite table set laden with the finest plates and cutlery that glint from the lanterns on the red tabletop. Soft music plays quietly in the background. The atmosphere reeks of opulence and romance. Your man knows how much you love the fancy, finer things, but this feels above and beyond, like a team effort pulled off specifically by the two men you're in the presence of.

Having an entire boat to oneself has its perks, particularly with the stellar service as well as not having to wait long for the food. Sat again between your boyfriend and your crush in the plush, booth-like seats, conversation flows easily among all three of you as you dine together. However, you observe that Dwayne sits much closer to you, on purpose too it seems, without the tight confines of a vehicle as a ready excuse. Roman is on your left, also pressed to your side. It’s not uncomfortable at all. You're in the middle of a very appetizing sandwich and you wonder, just for a second, if either man, or maybe both, would like a bite.

After your plates are taken away, Roman puts his arm around you, and you swoon when he links your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand. “You look so beautiful tonight, baby girl,” he gushes with a smile.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you respond. He’s been affectionate all evening, even more so than usual. He’s showered you with compliments, along with a bouquet of white roses and beautiful luxury jewelry, and you feel love-bombed in the best way. You wonder if there’s anything else in store tonight. Sex, you hope.

“I agree. Very beautiful,” Dwayne chimes in, surprising you.

"I—" you stammer, looking at him, taken slightly aback by the intensity in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Roman's hand moving down to squeeze your hip refocuses your attention on him. “So, babe…I know it’s been a long couple of months, and I’ve seen how hard you work at your job, yet you always manage to make time for me. Time for us. So I wanted to show you my appreciation by giving you something…extra special tonight."

It's then that you feel it; a tension that was present before but has somehow heightened, a nagging feeling that you’re out of the loop on something, but it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is.

“Okay…” You glance back and forth between the two men, your eyes fixated on their Adam's Apples, fighting the urge to moan out loud at the sight of their strong throats working. You almost miss it, but Roman catches Dwayne’s eye, exchanging a knowing look. Something is definitely going on.

Then, in a move that totally stuns you, Dwayne reaches out to touch your cheek, running his thumb along your skin. Your body washes with heat at his unexpected caress, but common sense tries to prevail as your head snaps over to Roman, anticipating some kind of outburst at his cousin’s forwardness. But nothing comes. If anything, he looks…calm. Like he saw this coming.

"I know you want Dwayne, baby. I’ve known for a while,” Roman says softly, and your heart drops. Have you been that obvious? Did you do something or say something that gave you away? As you frantically wrack your brain for an answer, his next words catch you completely off guard, even more so when he smiles. “And it turns out, he wants you too.”

"W-what?" What is going on?!

"It’s okay, my love," Roman shushes you gently, brushing his thumb back and forth across your lips. “I don't mind at all. It just shows that my cousin got good taste. And speaking of taste…”

“Roman and I talked, and we decided we want to give you exactly what you want,” Dwayne interjects. He’s smiling, making him even more attractive if that’s even possible. He puts his hand over your own, his light brown eyes piercing your soul. “We want to please you, sweetheart. Together. And not just tonight, but every other night.”

“We wanna take care of you, baby,” Roman continues. “We’re yours now, and you’re ours. You call on me, or him, or both of us, for anything you need, and we’ll be there.”

You’re at a loss for words. This has to be one of your wet dreams gone haywire. Now acutely aware that you’re firmly trapped between them, you gulp audibly, feeling nowhere near as brave as you usually do when you find yourself in this position in your fantasies. Flustered, you grab your glass of wine and knock it back in one go, almost coughing as the strong alcohol burns your throat in protest. “Are…are you sure?”

“Positive. But only if you’re sure that this is what you want, too,” Roman assures you.

Dwayne nods in agreement, and you break into a slight sweat despite the outdoor sea breeze, blowing out a breath as you fan yourself. These last few minutes have honestly left you shook. But the fact that they’ve essentially confessed that they both want you is a huge turn-on. They’re the most beautiful men that you’ve ever laid eyes on, and you feel honored that they feel so strongly about you.

Emboldened by this, along with the influx of alcohol in your system, you straighten in your seat and turn to the Great One with your most seductive expression. “Anything, huh? Well then, I just got one question, Mr Final Boss.” You trace your index finger from his torso along his broad chest, and stop at his bottom lip. “What dat mouth do?”

Dwayne smirks, purses his lips against your finger. “How ‘bout you come closer and find out?” he retorts.

Your eyes widen, your courage wavering. “Right here? Now? But what about…” You wave your hand around, reminding them that you’re not exactly alone on this boat.

“There’s a reason you ain’t seen nobody in a minute,” says Dwayne as Roman grins slyly, “They show up when we tell them to.”

Power.

You glance over at your boyfriend again, seeking, needing his consent. As tantalizing as all this is, you can��t do this without him. He merely stares back at you, his eyes cloudy with that familiar look of lust you’ve seen so many times. “Go ahead,” he encourages. He seems mesmerized by what’s unfolding before him.

Dwayne tilts your chin up, studying every little detail and emotion on your face, seeing right through the bravado. "I bet you taste incredible..." His hands span the length of your sides, holding you in place as he kisses your lips. His are surprisingly soft, moving gently against yours, taking his sweet time to enjoy your sweet taste. You press your body closer to his and run your hands up his smooth, shaven face, moaning into his mouth when his tongue whips skillfully against yours.

Behind you, Roman’s large hands are on your shoulders, massaging away the tension he knows is there. He knows your body so well. It helps you relax more and savor the firm pressure of Dwayne’s mouth. His kiss is different from Roman’s yet just as intoxicating. You gasp when his hands slides down your body, caressing your chest with care and attention. A sigh escapes you as Roman’s lips meet your shoulder. Right away your head lolls to the side, encouraging him to explore like he likes to. In the meantime, Dwayne has navigated underneath your dress and is parting your inner thighs, stroking the soft skin dangerously close to your apex. Warmth spreads throughout your body, ignited by their kisses, their touches, the knowledge that two beautiful, powerful men want you as much as they do. It’s an overwhelming feeling, scary even, yet it's all you want to feel from here on out.

A startled moan bursts from you when Roman bites down on your skin. It’s a familiar, pleasurable pain, one that makes you squeeze your thighs together. But Dwayne is not having it, nudging them back apart with his big hand. Both men are in complete control and obviously aim to make you lose yours. As Roman makes out with your throat, Dwayne fingers the straps of your low cut dress, easing the material down your arms, exposing your ample bosom inch by inch. Instinctively, your hands rise to cover yourself, but he catches your wrists before you can and holds them down.

"Don't hide, baby, let him see how pretty you are," Roman rasps in your ear, nuzzling his beard against your cheek. You shift restlessly, the throbbing between your legs intensifying with every passing second. You’ve daydreamed about a moment like this more times than you can count, and now it’s actually happening, with more to come.

What is life?

"Good girl," Roman smiles, watching Dwayne kiss on the swells of your heavy breasts spilling over your red lace bra. He drags your dress down further, resting it beneath your breasts. As you thank your lucky stars for opting to wear your prettiest bra tonight, Dwayne pinches your nipples through the lace, making you gasp out, your head tilting back with pleasure. He groans his approval as he pulls the bra cups down and kneads your naked breasts with firm, eager hands, the skin on skin contact sending shockwaves to your core. "Damn, girl. Look at them perfect titties," he praises.

"They nice, huh Uce," Roman purrs, his breath fanning your cheek, his hungry eyes affixed on your exposed chest with a growl that sends a flood of heat through your loins. Your back arches against your man's strong chest. You’re unbelievably wet, the lace of your panties already soaked through and clinging to your pussy lips. Roman takes over toying with your nipples while Dwayne descends, moving your dress up to your stomach as he comes face to face with your lace-covered treasure.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me," Dwayne kisses your belly, looking up at you from where he’s now crouched down on the floor. The view before you leaves you on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Dwayne fucking Johnson. On his knees. Asking you what you want. Good lord.

"I…I want you to eat my pussy," you manage to gasp.

The two men laugh, Roman’s deep chuckle vibrating through your half-naked body. "I think he can do that," he whispers, sucking your earlobe into his warm, wet mouth that has you panting out an expletive or two. Dwayne tugs at the waistband of your panties, prompting you to lift your hips so he can pull them off, rendering you open and exposed. You’re practically on Roman’s lap now, and you hear him moan as your ass wiggles directly on his crotch. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you reach up to grab his head, running your fingers through the silky locks of his hair, watching through heavy eyelids as Dwayne rubs two fingers along your slit. Roman refocuses on massaging your chest with those big hands of his. "So perfect," he mumbles into your hair, “The things I wanna do to you right now…”

Beneath you, Dwayne dips down to drag his tongue along your folds, tasting you for the first time. "Oh yeah, wayyy better than I imagined," he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, the small movements of his mouth making your pussy clench tight in anticipation. Not to be outdone, Roman gathers your breasts in his palms and grinds his hips against your ass. His thick, hardened length rubbing against your backside feels amazing. With a moan, you lift your head up for a kiss. He plunges his tongue in your mouth, dancing sloppily and noisily with yours, demanding the same energy you're receiving.

As you're caught up in Roman’s oral skills, the People’s champion decides to demonstrate his. He pushes his tongue deep inside of you, somehow managing to synchronize with Roman’s, filling both ends of your body. You find yourself also gripping the back of Dwayne’s head as he flicks his tongue against your folds rapidly, reminiscent of the way he utters his famous 'If You Smell...' catchphrase. The sensation has you crying out his name and your eyes rolling back. Then, he proceeds to trap your clit between his lips and suck heartily, then lap the protruding little nub and work it in circles.

"Oh my god," your voice cracks in a sob as he pushes your legs further back, spreading you wider, allowing him better access. The man is deep-diving in your pussy, feasting, as though the stuffed lobster he consumed just minutes ago was not satisfying enough. Your body is electric, your pussy spasming every few seconds as ecstasy beckons. His tongue is magical, and combined with the expert attention that Roman is providing, it’s almost too much to bear, so much so that you’re forced to tear your lips away from Roman's, moaning and panting heavily, your wide, hazy eyes staring up at him with a look of shock and almost helplessness from the barrage of pleasure.

The lust in the Tribal Chief's eyes as he stares right back reflects yours, and he keeps twisting your nipples, making you twitch and squirm in his arms. "You gon' come for us like a good girl," His voice is low and rough with desire, emphasizing his command with a particularly sharp pinch to your swollen, sensitive nipple that makes you squeal. "Come in his mouth, babe, make him taste every drop of that sweet ass pussy…"

On cue, Dwayne suddenly begins sucking you hard. Firm. His mouth wet and hungry, determined that you give them exactly what they want. He slips two long, thick fingers inside your dripping core, curling and twisting them, pumping them roughly inside you, and you’re gone. It knocks you silly, your nut, and your eyes squeeze shut as you scream, pussy clamping down on Dwayne's fingers, hips jerking on his face, Roman having to anchor you down as the pleasure ravages you. Dwayne never takes his eyes off the euphoria washing over your beautiful face, lapping up everything that pours from your weeping pussy. Roman lowers his hand between your thighs, swiping at your mess and bringing it to his mouth, groaning pleasurably at your taste he’s since known he can never get enough of.

"Mmm. Good girl," he murmurs against your throat, hugging your waist as you float down from your incredible high. His kiss on your cheek is soothing, loving. Proud. “You did so good for us, my love.”

It takes you a good thirty seconds to open your eyes, and you’re met with the most amazingly erotic sight. Dwayne’s handsome face smeared with your essence, his tongue gathering the remnants of your orgasm into his mouth. "I think that’s all the dessert I need tonight. I can eat your pussy forever, baby," he smirks up at you.

You feel yourself blushing profusely, retreating to your shy ways. "That was…unbelievable," you breathe, amazed that you can even speak.

"That's what we like to hear," Dwayne smiles, standing up and sitting back next to you. He draws your dress back down and makes a show of tucking your discarded panties into his back pocket. “That’s mine now,” he announces with a haughty wink and a shit-eating grin, and you’re certain you’re wet all over again. He tugs your bra and the rest of your dress back into place, patting your breasts fondly before kissing you softly. You can taste yourself all over his mouth and it’s the hottest thing ever.

"Um, would you like me to return the favor, Daddy? I can," you ask, already rubbing on both their thighs, your voice small and hopeful.

Chuckling at your newfound neediness, Roman swoops down to steal a kiss, "No, baby. At least not yet. This was all about you."

Damn. It feels unfair to not reciprocate such a tremendous gift, so you insist. You’ll be damned if this ends here. "Fine, maybe not here. But when we’re back on dry land, I’m fucking the shit outta you," you tell Roman, grabbing his chin and sealing your promise with a sensual, breathless kiss to his lips. You do the exact same thing to Dwayne, determination shining through the lust in your eyes, “Both of you.”

THE END

-------------------

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272 notes · View notes

brittle-doughie · 2 months ago

Note

Eyoooooo I Uhh, have a really long au that’s been kinda driving me insane to keep to myself lately but not only is it nowhere near done, I’m pretty sure it’s already way too long to reasonably fit into an ask so, I guess I’m asking if you’d like to read it? Idrk I just want someone to share this idea with so that I don’t lose it completely. It’s a variation of the beast ancients au but things go horribly wrong both really slowly and really quickly.

As payment for a nothing ask, I give you: a character study moment that has absolutely nothing to do with the au in question I just thought it was neat.

You were cornered.

Nowhere left to run.

The last gleam of hope dying as you stumbled your way in. All that greets you is red torchlit stonework.

‘Why the hell are there even dead ends in here?!’ You mutter, mostly to yourself, knowing full well there’s not much of a point in being quiet now. But your incredibly valid question must wait as your pursuer, and the one who broke off your leg has found you. Huddled in the corner, clutching a dagger and jam still leaking out of where your leg once was. He hums, an idea having piqued his interest. The loud clatter of his weapon falling against the floor startles you to attention. What you see, is quite strange indeed.

Burning Spice Cookie stands just a few feet away from you, arms outstretched as if waiting for a hug, and a colossally smug smile on his face. Stranger still, is what he says next.

“Come here, hit me, show me that fire in your eyes again, little cookie”

By far, the weirdest thing though, is that you listen to him.

Hobbling back to get a better angle, your remaining leg shudders and struggles to carry you any farther. The dagger in your hand the only thing still keeping you grounded, aware that what is happening is real. And Burning Spice simply waits, far more patiently then you ever expected him capable of. The hopelessness of the situation rattles you once again, and it spurs you forward, dagger flying through the air towards your assailant, and you along with it.

The dagger strikes true, piercing through dough with ease as jam leaks out of the wound you’ve caused, wetting your hands as you try to keep your vice grip on the dagger as your good leg has finally given out on you. Putting your whole weight on the comparatively tiny blade.

And he doesn’t even flinch

Burning Spice plucks you by the nape, holding you up in one hand as the other pulls out the dagger. Your hands fall down with it, barely having the strength to keep focus now.

“A well placed strike given your handicap. I think I’ll keep you all to myself.” He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, even after you flinch away, he remains ever gentle, ever patient. A part of you is pretty sure you’re hallucinating from jam loss at this point. That’s the only explanation for this-

“I wonder what that fire in your eyes will become. Will it be smothered-“ Burning Spice is stopped mid sentence as something cuts him just below his eye. He simply cannot help the fondness and pride he feels for you already. His grinning teeth on full display as if revelling in the wounds you’ve caused.

“Yes, I’ve already decided. You will be my favourite little spitfire.” Your head slumps, dagger clattering to the floor as your grievous wound finally catches up to you. And just as gently, Burning Spice carries you to your new home.

-ephemeralcryptid

Y/N Cookie will be a beautiful new addition to the Spice Swarm.

Golden Cheese was only holding them back, keeping them a constant in the tides of Change. Burning Spice can fix that….

And now? She can only watch as Burning Spice leaves with them deeper into his palace, their weak body in his arms.

She wanted to scream….

Run after them…

Demand he comes back to fight her….

Instead…

Between her dough cracking and coughing up strawberry jam…

She cries….

She cries for her precious treasure back….

A treasure that may not be hers anymore…..

#brittle answers #cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #golden cheese cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice cookie

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hbdttg · 2 years ago

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“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

#stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #modern office au #corporate steddie au #eddie's in IT #HHH is a commercial real estate firm #but steve's not a hotshot broker he's literally just a guy who makes copies all day or some shit #i personally just want to see all of eddie's baseless assumptions shattered as he gets to know steve #fic writing #hbd #actually i've never read a corporate steddie fic before so if anyone has any recs i'd love to hear them

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sashaisready · 2 months ago

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Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

Hi, I'm back! I have no idea where this came from, or where it's going! So apologies as updates may not be consistent while I figure it out. Warnings for death of parents, grief, mentions of cemetery/graves - please tread carefully if these are triggers for you.

🍂

It was a chilly Autumn day, but not unbearable. Your coat could more than handle the frigid breeze. You squinted at the headstone as you crouched on your knees, angling your head to make sure you hadn’t left any streaks or marks from the polish. Satisfied with your performance, you trimmed a few of the roses that were leaning against it before standing and taking a step back to admire your handiwork.

Immaculate as always, so neat you could almost be fooled into thinking you weren’t even outside. You could hear your parents’ voices in your head now, joking about being able to keep their graves far cleaner that you ever managed your bedroom to be, their frequent nags falling on deaf adolescent ears.

You smiled sadly as you looked at the intricately engraved text below their names on the shared stone:

Beloved parents taken too soon,

Waiting in heaven to be reunited with their only daughter

You’d never really like that phrasing; it was a little too whimsical for your tastes – especially all these years later. But a recently orphaned teenager wasn’t exactly an expert in choosing the best headstone wording. You’d been more than happy to let your aunt and the funeral home lead the way, too paralysed by grief to make even the smallest decisions in the hellscape that was death admin.

Still, you’d never want to upset your aunt by getting it changed, there’s a lot of strange emotion tied up in grief even when time has passed, and that mourning teen has become an adult. And it wasn’t like new headstones were cheap anyway…

As you packed up your cleaning kit your attention was drawn to the two graves next to your parents’ - George and Winnifred Barnes. They had both passed several decades earlier, long before your parents were buried next to them. They had died only a few months apart according to the text…maybe they’d couldn’t survive without each other.

It was easy to infer that they no longer had anyone left earthside. The graves had been long untouched, unkempt, and overgrown, the inscriptions getting harder to read – and you’d never seen any evidence of a visitor in all your time coming here. Except of course when the cemetery staff did one of their occasional mass clean-ups of the neglected graves.

About a year ago, you’d started tending to them alongside your parents. You weren’t sure why, it just seemed like the right thing to do. They were neighbours after all. And you’d want someone to do the same for your mum and dad if you weren’t around.

You’d cleaned their stones, wiped away the grime and given them a decent polish. You’d trimmed back the weeds and laid fresh flowers. The first time took a while, but after you’d got them to a reasonable standard it was all pretty easy to maintain.

You’d often wondered who they were. What they were like. The dates suggested they’d died of old age, a luxury your parents didn’t have. Were they kind? Funny? What hobbies did they have? They were around during the war, that must’ve been tough. You knew from the inscriptions that they had children who would’ve been over hundred by now. Maybe no grandchildren which is why nobody came by to see them anymore. It made you feel sad, how we could all be just a few generations away from being forgotten entirely. At least you could try to remember them.

You gave their graves a quick once over, took away the dead flowers and added some fresh roses in their place.

“Well, I’m done,” you said aloud, “see you soon, mum and dad. And you too, George and Winnifred. Sleep well”.

You sighed, walking back to your car and back to your life. You knew all too well that the dead may be still, but the world continues around them.

🍂

A week later you were back at the cemetery with your cleaning kit slung over your back, your arms full of fresh flowers.

“Afternoon, mum and dad,” you said as you placed your kit and flowers down and pulled out the foam pad that you used to kneel on, “and you, George and Winnifred”.

“Work has been kicking my ass this week,” you sighed as you got to work on your parents’ stone. “There’s only so much I can take of Brock’s moaning about the numbers…it’s getting harder not to smash my keyboard over his head – yeah I know, violence isn’t the answer, blah-blah-blah…”

You worked diligently, chatting away as you went through your maintenance tasks. It was nice, talking to them like this. You could say anything, really. No judgements, no admonishment, just silent acceptance of everything you told them. It was a bit like therapy for you. You often imagined your parents were sitting behind you as you spoke, just out of sight.

You liked to use old newspaper to buff up the marble. As you gathered your things together, you glanced at some of the headlines from the copy you’d brought with you. Lots of dreary grimness unfortunately. There was also a longread feature on the Avengers and where they were now, their photographs lined up across the top of the page. It was sad that a few of them were dead now, or at least no longer here. You felt a pang of sadness for their loved ones – you knew what that was like.

You didn’t know all the details of The Avengers and their associates, but like everyone else you knew the basics. It was a strange time, just a decade or so ago nobody had ever thought superheroes really existed…but then all of these ‘enhanced’ people started crawling out of the woodwork, revealing weapons and technology that previously had only existed in sci-fi movies. It was hard to believe, really.

You scanned the newspaper page, looking at the pictures for a few moments. You took your time studying their faces before sighing and placing it back down.

“All done…now let’s help out George and Winnie over here, looks like you guys need some new flowers…and all that heavy rain we’ve been having has really done a number on your stones…let me just-”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the gruff voice behind you demanded, causing you such a shock that you nearly joined your parents.

You spun your body away from the graves, horrified to see a man looming over you as you stared at him open-mouthed in surprise. You hadn’t heard him approach, not quite understanding how you hadn’t noticed him coming at all…

“I said what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he repeated to you, his blue eyes alight with anger.

He was big. Bigger than you. Even under his coat you could see his broad shoulders. A mop of dark hair framed his face, most likely quite an attractive face when it wasn’t pulled into a furious sneer like it was now. He wore black gloves as he pointed at you accusingly. The fact that you were kneeling on the ground while he stood towering at his full height had not gone unnoticed by you.

There was something strangely familiar about him, but you couldn’t place it. Did he shop at the same market as you? You couldn’t quite…

“I’m…I’m just-�� you spluttered as you fumbled for the words, still caught in your surprise and the fact that this normally serene time had been interrupted by a stranger yelling at you…

“Get away from there!” he snarled.

You quickly realised he was talking about the Barnes’ graves. You bounced backwards, landing painfully on your ass in your desperation to do what he said. He had a chilling air of authority that you didn’t want to screw with. You weren’t trying to piss off an angry man while you were out here all alone…

“I was just tidying them up,” you managed weakly as you sat up and clutched at the flowers.

“Nobody asked you to,” he scoffed in response as he leaned over and ran a gloved finger over Winnifred’s inscription, “you shouldn’t be clambering all over graves of people you don’t know”.

You frowned as the initial shock of the encounter wore off, now annoyed now at his abrupt rudeness towards you when you only had good intentions.

“Oh, and you know them, do you?” you snapped back sharply as your felt your emotions surge and your eyes water, your cheeks hot with mortification, “well, nobody has been to visit those graves in years so-”

“Yeah, actually I do know them - I’m their son,” he spat furiously.

Your head bounced back in surprise and confusion. You curled your lip and frowned at his strange claim, he appeared to be his mid-to-late 30s at most – many years away from the very elderly man he’d need to be for that to be true.

What was his goal here, exactly?

Was this guy just looking to start an argument and decided you’d be his target? Spouting off nonsense about random graves just to mess with you?

And where did you know him from?

Despite your survival instincts, you couldn’t help but fight back. You didn’t appreciate being messed with at the best of times, let alone when you were only here to visit your deceased loved ones. Who came to a graveyard to fuck with people? And yell at them?!

“Huh? Son?” you scoffed with derision and jabbed a finger towards the inscriptions about their children, “well, that can’t be true as that would mean their kids would have to be over a hundred…and how many one-hundred-year-olds look like you…?”

“I’m 107 years old, actually,” he said venomously. He sounded utterly sincere despite the ludicrousness of his claim. His face was sullen, his eyes piercing.

You ignored the shudder that threatened to roll through you in response. It was a strangely familiar expression on his face.

Where had you seen that look?

“Oh, yeah! You’re 107…Sure!” you laughed sarcastically. “You just have the greatest plastic surgeon of all time, in fact there’s a bunch of centenarians wandering around looking thirt-”

You trailed off as a wave of recognition suddenly hit you and the penny dropped. Oh. Oh.

He wasn’t from the market…

It was him.

Your eyes panned down to the crumpled newspaper lying next to you. The same man’s face scrutinised you from the page, an exact mirror image of the brooding 3D version in front of you. A little older now, but still unmistakably the same man.

Oh!

Now you remembered that same picture on the news. Read about the terrible things he’d done before when he was under hypnosis. For the Nazis? The Soviets? Both? Flashes of recollection hit you at once, disjointed and scattered.

It wasn’t really him doing all of it, it was a mind control thing, they’d said. He was like the Captain…the first one from the 40s. Kept young…somehow. He had a robot arm. Then there was the big government pardon after he’d helped to save the world. The deep dive the New York Times had done on his assassin past. What had they said he was called? Iceman? Winter? Winter hitman?

The Winter Soldier.

Barton? Baines? No, Barnes.

Barnes.

As in…son of Winnifred and George?

Ah.

He must’ve seen your train of thought written all over your face as he nodded solemnly at you.

“Yeah. It’s me. And I only found their resting place a few weeks ago,” he said with disdain.

You got to your feet, taking a few cautious steps backwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t need to be a jerk - I’ve just been coming here for years, and I’d never seen…”

You trailed off, he didn’t care. His focus was on the graves, one gloved hand gripping the top of his father’s stone as he peered down at the grass below.

You turned to leave, giving him his privacy, “I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumbled quietly as you picked up your kit.

You started to head back to your car, then turned to face him again after a couple of steps. You warily moved back towards him and leaned over, placing a single flower between the feet of his parents’ graves. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pick it up and throw it back in your face, either.

As you walked away, you thought you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

🍂

Another week passed and you were back at the cemetery once more, working the usual routine and doing your best to forget what had happened the last time you were here. Upsetting a war veteran slash Avengers superhero by accusing him of not being his parents’ child was impressively incompetent, even by your standards. But in your defence, he did just start yelling at you out of nowhere. And you were only trying to help. And he was a literal defiance of nature, time, and aging…

But then again, people weren’t always their best selves in a cemetery. It wasn’t exactly Happy Hour over here. And you’d probably freak out too if you caught a stranger tinkering around with the resting place of your parents. The parents who died of old age while you were cryogenically frozen and a prisoner in your own body…

You’d done a little more reading up on him, James Buchanan Barnes. ‘Bucky’. The man behind the scary winter soldier mask. The older images of him in his combat gear were chilling, as were the alleged stats of his kills, but mainly you just felt immense empathy for a man out of time. A man who had lost his youth, a limb, his autonomy, and everybody he once knew from his old life.

You tried to put it out of your mind, catching your parents up on what they’d missed and pretty-ing things up a little around their plot. You didn’t touch the Barnes’ this time, just gave them a little wave and concentrated on your own flesh and blood.

You were a million miles away, lost in the quiet fog that often seemed to overtake you when you were working in the cemetery. It was peaceful, really. This was the one place you could switch your brain off and quiet the chatter of your head, just concentrate on the tasks you knew so well by now that your hands did them on muscle memory alone.

You were just adjusting the newest flowers when a voice interrupted you.

“Hey,” it said.

It startled you as you were still in your own world and hadn’t heard anyone else approach. You whirled around slightly panicked as a pair of eyes the colour of sapphires met yours.

It was him again.

“Oh, hello,” you replied quietly.

He stared over at you, wrapped up in his coat as he was last time. His stare was still intense despite appearing much calmer than when you first met him. He wore black pants and boots, his hands tucked away into his pockets, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder. His face was more relaxed than it was during your first encounter. His blue eyes were just as arresting, but the absence of anger made them sparkle rather than burn. He had a soft dusting of stubble across his taut jawline, his dark hair was pulled back behind his head as he absent-mindedly ran a hand over it. He was…

…hot?

Fuck.

He nodded at you in acknowledgement and moved to George and Winnifred’s plot, kneeling in front of their stones. He pulled a candle out from his backpack and lit it with a lighter, placing it between where his parents lay.

You turned away sharply, not wanting to look like you were intruding during what was clearly a private moment of mourning. You focused on your own parents’ graves, clipping back the flowers as quietly as possible.

The two of you continued doing your own thing, the awkwardness thick in the air. You remembered how furious he’d been with you last time. You considered saying something, trying to explain that you were only trying to maintain the graves, but you didn’t want to provide any more ammunition for potential anger. Instead, you continued your routine in silence, keeping your eyes down.

After you finished you packed up your stuff and cleared your throat, ‘uh, bye,” you said quietly to him as you hurried down the path and back towards your car. He didn’t respond, but looked up at you as you passed, studying you intently.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #since you've been gone fic

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fandom-go-round · 1 year ago

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Personal Time: Astarion x Reader x Halsin

Did I romance either of these two? No I didn't. Is that going to stop me? God I wish it would

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Dom/Sub (Astarion Topping), Leashes, Light Humiliation, Size Kink, Sex Outdoors, Overstimulation, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Threesome, Mild Pain Kink, Established Relationship, Poly Relationship (Astarion x Reader x Halsin), Druid Tav

You did everything correctly, thank you very much. You behaved yourself on the road, making sure to not threaten anyone, even the guy who tried to rip you off. You kept your mouth shut when you ended up covered in blood and guts. Today had not been your day, damn it but you were going to make something of it. Which meant that you were going to get off of course.

Dinner passed without incident and after helping to clean up, you told everyone you’d be going to wash up. No one tried to stop you (even as they teased you about being alone) and you made your way to the river, skin itching. The plan was to clean up quickly and then take your time. It’s why you picked a more secluded site from camp, far enough away that no one would run into you.

You sped through your bath routine, making sure to get all the blood off. You wanted to spend more time doing and less time thinking. The sun was just beginning to set, the grass still warm in a sunspot away from the shore. You laid out your blanket, placing your small bag of personal items onto the ground. You took a moment to just breath, letting the tension roll out.

Secluded location inside the trees? Check. Oil and toys? Check. Far enough away you might be able to make a little noise? Check. You did one last scan of the tree line to make sure no one was behind you and got to work.

Foreplay was skipped to get off quicker, although you did take some time to pinch your nipples and move lower. You grabbed your vial of oil, rubbing it between your fingers before laying back. Thank the gods you grabbed a pillow. It didn’t take you long to start feeling hot. You circled a few times, your other hand reaching down to play with yourself. The gentle stretch of your finger turned into slick movement after a few strokes. You grunted and added another finger, moving your other hand to better support you. You had brought more toys to make it fun but didn’t want to rush. Tonight, you wanted this to take a while.

You let out a sigh as you pushed a third finger into yourself, not feeling as much of the burn. You stopped moving, enjoying the feeling of being full before starting to pump. You opened your legs wider without thinking, head leaning back. The change in angle helped so you heard the moment someone gasped.

“Darling!” Shit. Your eyes snapped open at the voice and you swallowed hard. Astarion’s face was amused, the shock on his face half true. You groaned, giving a huff as you slowed your fingers. His eyes flickered down to your hand, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stepped into the clearing, dying sunlight giving him a soft glow.

“Looking for a show?” You tried your best to come off coy but you were too breathless. There was a part of you that felt embarrassed by Astarion catching you and the other part figured this was his own fault. He went looking for you and that was on him. He smirked at your voice, taking your words as an invitation to move forward. You watched him take you in, red eyes bright and getting darker. He hummed and you began to fuck yourself faster.

“I was wondering what you were doing, yes. Wanted some alone time?” His voice had taken a softer tone, even if the words sounded mocking to the untrained ear. You gave him a smile and half shrug, angling your legs better as he took a peek. Astarion gave you a smirk, hand drifting down to rub himself through his pants.

“Today sucked and I figured this would make it better.” He took in your face as you spoke, eyebrows furrowing a bit. Affection bubbled up, your eyes soft as you gazed at him. The two of you had been working through Astarion’s hesitations with sex and both of you felt confident in approaching each other.

“…would you like some help? Or shall I leave you to it?” You smiled at his question, sitting up so you could wave him over fully. Astarion pulled his shirt off, giving you a wink as he began to strip. You gave an apperceive groan, leaning back on one hand and pulling your fingers free. You wiped them on a cloth, making sure that your hand wasn’t sticky. He tracked the movement, sighing and then gracefully kneeling between your legs.

“I would love it if you helped.” You wrapped an arm around his neck, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He gave a slight smile at your gentleness, kissing your check back.

“And you didn’t think to invite me? Just plain rude.” His words were teasing against your skin, lips trailing over your shoulders and down your chest. He nipped at your skin until you shivered, shifting so it was easier for him to reach. You gave a soft moan, your other hand going to tangle into his hair.

“Honestly? I just figured this would make things more efficient.” He laughed around a nipple, giving a hard suck. You rocked your hips towards him, Astarion grinding his cock against you. He pulled back to give you a wicked smirk, fangs peeking out from behind his lips.

“Oh dear, now I’m really going to have to take you apart.” He didn’t give you any time to respond, kissing you hard and lining himself up against your entrance. His tongue brushed against yours and you groaned into his mouth as he pushed his cock into you.

He was bigger than your fingers, the burn of the stretch making you tingle. Astarion didn’t give you time to adjust, rocking into you. He didn’t pull out, only pushed deeper and you whimpered. His hips were hard against your own and it took a couple seconds to realize he was pinning you down.

“Astarion.” You called him name, trying to sound scolding but coming out whinier. He laughed, nipping at your neck as he pulled you closer. You were half in his lap now, legs wide open and hitched over his. Your lover began to move faster, fangs sinking into your skin as you exposed your neck.

He didn’t drink deeply, moaning lowly and rolling his hips. You felt bolts of pleasure move up your spine, orgasm so close and yet so far. When he pulled his fangs out you squeezed around him hard, the vampire groaning. One of his hands came up to tease your chest, flicking and pinching the skin.

“Aren’t you a little eager? I thought you were going to draw this out?” You made a surprised sound, pulling back to look at his face. He smirked and stopped moving, buried deep inside of you. He plucked your bag off the forest floor, ignoring how you squirmed against him. Astarion pulled out a dildo, chuckling as he began to go through the bag. You’re not embarrassed; you’ve been together long enough you know his teasing is lighthearted. There is a bit of heat on your face as he pulled out another, larger dildo and you see the understanding in his eyes.

“I was going to but now I have help.” He threw his head back and laughed at your comment, the sound breathless and mocking. You leaned forward and began kissing down his chest, stopping to pay attention at his nipples. Long fingers wrapped around your throat and you gasped, pushing into his hand.

“Oh sweetness.” Astarion cooed at you, placing your bag back on the ground and pushing you to lay back. “I am going to have you here all night. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be stretched out all night?” You gave him a wicked smile in return, wrapping your legs around his waist. He snarled and finally moved again, face focused on where he’s pushing into you.

The dirty talk started to become white noise the closer you got to cumming. Astarion’s hand was still wrapped around your neck, holding but not squeezing. That made your brain fuzzy on a good day but when he reached down to rub you just right? You’re only half aware you’re cumming, cutting yourself off halfway through a satisfied moan. Astarion’s eyes locked on your face, a softness in his features that only happens now, after the two of you have confessed.

“Gorgeous.” His words are breathless and you almost lose them in the hazy of pleasure. Instead, you gave him a smile, groaning as he pulled out of you. There’s an answering groan behind you and you gasped, fingers digging into your lover’s sides. Astarion cooed at you, stroking your hair and looking over your shoulder.

“Come to find us bear?” You relaxed as Astarion identified your other lover, looking over your shoulder to see Halsin. The druid offered you a smile, eyes dark but face sympathetic.

“I only wished to check in on you. Forgive me for interrupting.” Halsin did, to his credit, sound a little embarrassed. You snickered, hole clenching around nothing. You had wanted to wait until the larger dildo to cum but you couldn’t resist Astarion.

“You’re alright Halsin, Astarion interrupted first.” The vampire gave a short ‘humph!’ at your words, more playful than serious. Halsin gave another smile, eyes slowly roaming over the two of you. You shivered, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your gut. Apparently, you were ready to go again.

“I offered help and you accepted, simple as that. Bear, “ Astarion had his semi mocking tone again, eyes showing that he was playing. “Come over here and clean up this mess.” All three of you shared a look, questions and answers coming quickly. Halsin, as always, had to speak things into the world.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” You shook your head, slowly turning over to face him. He gave a low groan as you opened your legs towards him, Astarion settling in behind you. He was still hard but grabbed your hand to place a kiss on the back of it when you tried to wrap a hand around his cock.

“Not at all. I’d love you to.” Your voice was lower than normal speaking to Halsin, more proof to you being warm and fucked. Both of your lovers moved closer, Halsin beginning to strip and Astarion reached for your bag.

“I’m much more in the mood to direct than participate right now. Maybe after a show?” Astarion’s words had you and Halsin sharing a look, letting the words sink in before you both nodded. Astarion and Halsin had their own relationship outside the three of you and you were thankful that the triad was working for everyone. All of you enjoyed taking charge from time to time and no one had any issue with that being Astarion tonight. He gave a sinful smile at your consent and Halsin groaned, pulling your legs closer.

“We will be more than happy to provide the entertainment.” Halsin’s words were laced with a growl and you gave an agreeing moan. He leaned down to kiss at your thighs, Astarion’s hands moving to hold you open. You squirmed, trying to get Halsin to nip but he didn’t take the bait. The druid groaned, eyes flickering to your face for just a moment before diving in.

You whimpered, eyes closing as Halsin began to eat you out with vigor. His mouth was hot and with Astarion’s help, it felt like he was warming you from the inside out. He had no issue cleaning up the mess you made, one of his hands drifting down towards his cock. Astarion gave a pleased moan, eyes darting over to your bag.

“Do you mind a couple of toys, Halsin?” The large elf looked up at the call of his name, eyes flickering over to your bag and then back to you. You sighed dramatically, pushing your hips closer to the eager mouth.

“You’re not going to embarrass me Astarion.” Your tone was playful and he laughed, something fond on his face.

“Oh I know that darling. Between the two of you I have learned, without at doubt, that druids are freaks.” You laughed at his words, Halsin’s eyes flashing with amusement as he began to lick you clean. He traced the edges of your hole over and over and your laugh dissolved into a whine.

“Toys are acceptable. What are you thinking Astarion?” It took all of your willpower to not cry out as Hasin pulled away. Astarion didn’t answer the other man’s question verbally, reaching into your bag and pulling out a collar and leash. Halsin’s eyebrows raised and you blinked in surprise; you hadn’t meant to grab that.

“Our adorable little pet wanted to be stretched out tonight and who better to do that than you? But I was hoping that you’d let me, ah, control the pace?” Astarion phrased his want as a question but it was coy, said to sound more enticing. Halsin sat back on his knees to think, slowly stroking himself. You watched his hand intently, wondering if Astarion would let you up so you could suck Halsin off. Just a lick?

“I do not mind, as long as we keep the same precautions as last time.” You both nodded at the druid’s words, Halsin leaning towards Astarion with a smile. The last time the three of you had played, Halsin had tied the two of you up with rope and fucked you for hours. The word to stop was ‘dragon egg mushroom’ and three snaps if you couldn’t speak. It was a good system and it hadn’t failed you yet.

“Excellent.” Astarion purred, grabbing the back of Halsin’s head. He kissed him hard, tongue darting into the druid’s mouth. You watched them make out for a moment, fingers reaching down to stoke Halsin. The larger man groaned, a gasp following shortly after. You refocused your attention on them and groaned when you saw the collar around Halin’s throat. Astarion pulled back with a smirk, giving a gentle tug of the leash.

They weren’t anything fancy, a simple leather set but Astarion treated them like they were made of gold. And they looked like it in his hands. He gave an amused chuckle, taking in Halsin and tugging him close. Halsin followed immediately; there was no way the collar was tight enough to cause actual harm. He was freely giving Astarion the ability to control him and the vampire loved it. They kissed a few more times, Halsin groaning into the vampire’s mouth.

“Go ahead and start pushing into them dear, they’ve been waiting long enough.” Astarion’s voice left no room for argument and Halsin gave a tight nod, kissing down his neck. You could see the gold rising into his eyes but he pushed it down. You pulled your hand away and Astarion reached over to drizzle oil onto his cock. Halsin groaned and you gave an answering groan in response. The elf behind you chuckled, tugging you so that you were almost laying completely flat. Your head was cradled on Astarion’s thigh, Halsin watching as you got situated.

Once you were comfortable Halsin moved in, the leash taught as he was pulled closer. He used once hand to line up with you, groaning at how wet you were. Your mouth opened in a wordless sound as the tip of Halsin’s cock opened you up. Normally you would need a lot more prep but Astarion was eager to see you fall apart early. You couldn’t ignore the burn and Halsin waited, eyes flickering between the two of you.

“They wanted this you know.” Astarion’s voice was easy to focus on, even if you know he was going to say something embarrassing. His words always make you feel good, even if they’re teasing. “They were going to take it nice and slow but we know they can take more, can’t you darling?”

You try to answer, really you do but your words are cut off as Astarion pulls on the collar again. Halsin pressed closer, the head of his cock slowly pressing in and you moaned, head going back. Your legs were getting sore, insides pulsing with a mix of numbness and pleasure. Sweat gathered around Halsin’s temples and his arms shook with the force of holding himself back.

“I-I don’t want to hurt them.” Halsin’s eyes were getting glassy, looking at Astarion with pupils blown wide. The vampire cooed, giving a devilish smile. One of his hands reached down to rub you and both you and Halsin groaned as you tighten.

“You aren’t going to hurt them bear, you’re being such a sweet boy.” Halsin shuddered at the praise, letting himself be guided forward. He’s halfway inside and you know that he’s not going to fit the rest of the way, not if you’re not stretched out. Your hole was still burning but it felt so good, like when a bruise starts to heal.

“Besides, they like pain with their pleasure. Isn’t that right?” One of Astarion’s hands came up to pinch your cheek and you moaned, giving a nod. It felt so good when he treated you like a toy.

“F-feels so good Halsin please-“ Your words were cut off with a yell as he began to rock his hips. He doesn’t go deeper but hits one spot that makes you see stars. Normally you can’t cum from penetration alone but fuck if he’s not going to try. Halin’s hands are white-knuckled fists by your hips; he only moved how Astarion let him and you almost cum at the realization.

“He can use you however he wants, can’t he?” Astation’s voice lulls you both deeper, Halsin moving faster and you opening your legs wider. “Halsin’s been so good for us, he should get rewarded. Such a gorgeous wild thing, playing nice with us.”

Blood rushed in your ears and you’re so close to orgasm it hurts. Your body was still sensitive from Astarion taking you and Halsin makes you feel like you’re going to break apart at the seams. Halsin doesn’t stop thrusting, eyes locked on Astarion’s face as he fucks into you. He still doesn’t go deeper than halfway and all it took was Astarion rubbing you a few times for orgasm to hit.

You half registered Halsin following you over the edge, hips jerking as pleasure washed through you. The elf gave a roar as he came, eyes snapping to your face. Astarion released the leash and Halsin bent over to give you the filthiest kiss of the night. You moaned into his mouth, Astarion jerking himself off just behind you. He came with a quiet sigh, none of the mess ending up on you.

The three of you bask for a moment; you’re too blissed out to talk and the boys kiss gently and talk over your shoulders. Eventually Halsin pulls out and Astarion takes off the collar, everyone returning to their bodies.

“Thank you.” Your voice is still slurred and they turn to you with matching smiles. Astarion gently kisses your forehead before rising, Halsin pulling you into his lap. You’ll be sore tomorrow but its worth every second of discomfort.

“No need to thank us my heart; thank you for letting us enjoy the night with you.” You give him a quick kiss, Astarion walking back with water and a wet rag. The two of them are in charge of cleaning; you’re only half conscious to anything being said. You grumble as Halsin redresses you, the druid smiling and pinching your nipple. Astarion rolls his eyes but says nothing, the three of you heading back to camp. The others will tease you mercilessly but you’re too blissed out to care; that’s a tomorrow problem.

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