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sturnsdarling · 1 day

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save a horse...

you and Matt go to a ranch for your anniversary and end up finding an old abandoned barn, taking the perfect opportunity to live your true wild west fantasy.

vibe check: smutty fluff, cowgirl position (obvi), public (kind of) sex

3k words

A/N: it hurts to write my dreams instead of living them. anyways the idea of cowboy!matt makes me feel a bit wobbly in the knees so this is my version of that, this fic is dedicated to the one and only cas (@sturnioz) because she, and I quote, 'loves this shit'

love and cigs, merc

It was yours and Matts year anniversary, you were driving through the South West, Matts hand on your thigh as you drove towards the ranch you had found as a surprise for him.

It was huge, an old family run ranch in the middle of nowhere. Recently, Matt had been on a kick about reconnecting with nature so, with your anniversary coming up you thought a long weekend in a ranch would be perfect for him to live out his cowboy dreams.

When you got there,

the family that rented it out was welcoming and lovely, showing you both the little house you'd be staying in for the weekend. It was an old converted barn, all the old wood work still intact and the furnishings being very on theme for yours and Matts 'wild west' weekend.

It was perfect, and the look on Matts face when he saw the cracks of light seeping through the cracking wood walls made everything worth it.

Once you guys had dropped off your stuff,

you and Matt decided to wander around the grounds and find a nice spot to have a picnic. After a while of walking about and taking photos of the beautiful scenery, you noticed a large tree a little ways walk from where you were, telling Matt it was the perfect spot and he agreed, looping his arm over your shoulder and leading you both to the tree.

When you sat down,

Matt laid down your picnic blanket and told you to sit down, saying he'd get everything ready and that you didn't have to do anything. You complied, watching as he unpacked everything, the bright orange sun illuminating his beautiful face perfectly.

"I can feel you starin' at me, you know" Matt smirked, pulling to plastic wine glasses out the basket followed by a bottle of root beer.

"i'm not staring, i'm admiring" you corrected him.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head and turning to face you, hooking a soft finger under your chin and pulling your head up to him. He pressed a tender kiss on your glossy lips, slotting his mouth between yours perfectly. You let out a satisfied hum into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Matt pulled away and opened the bottle of soda, he held it out to you like a waiter holding wine and made a fancy, silly face, "will this do, your highness" he spoke in a posh English accent.

you giggled, nodding and trying to pull a serious face, "yes, that will do nicely" you mimicked his tone.

Matt chuckled and poured you a cup of soda before pouring his own, holding it out to you to cheers before sitting down next to you on the blanket.

You were facing the horizon, watching as the sun began to set, leaving the sky a hazy orange and pink swirl of colours. You rested your head on Matts shoulder and he turned to place a soft kiss on your hair.

"happy anniversary, beautiful" Matt said, softly.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his shoulder as he looked down at you, batting your lashes at him as you gazed at him, "happy anniversary, my love"

He smiled, placing a soft kiss on your lips before turning back to face the sunset.

You stayed there for a while, eating, laughing and enjoying each others company. The sun was still setting, and you were laying on Matts chest, peppering soft kisses all over his face as he chuckled beneath you. You were giggling the whole time, loving how he let you shower him with love like you so desperately wanted to twenty four seven. Matt placed his large hands on your hips, flipping you both over so he was on top of you. You giggled at the swift movement, and Matt hovered over you, watching in awe at the way your face lit up when you laughed.

Your giggles subsided, and you looked up to Matt, who's eyes were flitting between yours and your lips. You looked to his plump lips, and bit down on your bottom lip at the sight of him looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Matt craned his head down, pressing his lips against yours with a firm hand on your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue against his lip. He accepted your invitation and pressed his warm tongue against yours, absentmindedly grinding his hips down into yours as you hooked one leg around his waist.

Everything was perfect, you were in a beautiful place, with a beautiful boy, making out on a picnic blanket like sneaky teenagers trying to get some alone time in the wild west.

Once the sun had begun to slip under the horizon, you decided to do some more exploring before heading back to where you were staying.

On your adventure, you guys had spotted an old barn, it was falling apart at the seams and looked as if no one had touched it in years.

"we have to go see inside" you said, pulling Matt towards the old barn with your hand in his.

He followed you, letting you lead him town the dry hill towards the large old structure.

You reached the doors, pulling on the old lock slightly as it basically crumbled in your hand. Matt reached above your head, pulling the door open and letting you walk in.

It was like a time capsule, bails of old hay everywhere, old horse riding equipment and a beat up tractor in the middle.

"this is so cool" Matt said, looking around in awe.

You were just looking at him, watching his face light up with every new thing he noticed. You did a full lap of the barn, and didn't take your eyes off him once, just letting him guide you about with his fingers locked between yours.

"y'staring again, baby" He chuckled, turning to face you, placing his hands round your waist and pulling you into him.

you looped your hands around his neck, "admiring" you corrected him again, brushing your lips over his.

Matt pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss that was quick to become desperate. His warm tongue pressed and pushed against yours as your hands found the tangled curls at the back of his head. His hand snuck down to your ass, gripping and squeezing at the flesh over your flowery sundress. Matt walked you backwards towards the bails of hay, laying you down gently on top of them without breaking the kiss.

He laid you down, one hand on your face and the other on your thigh as he looped your leg around his waist. Matt ground his hips down onto yours, pressing his growing cock against your pussy as your dress fell bunched around your waist. You whimpered into the kiss, tugging at Matts hair and pulling him closer into you with your leg.

Matts hand wandered up your leg, pushing your dress further up with his soft hands as his hand edged impossibly close to where the two of you connected. He pressed and kneaded at your skin as he ground his hips down into your core, hard and slowly, chasing his own friction just as much as he was trying to help you chase yours.

You whined into Matts mouth once more, biting down on his lip and bucking your hips into his. Matt chuckled, breaking the kiss and pulling away from you slightly.

"so needy" He muttered, lips still brushing yours.

"you like it when I'm needy" you pretended to sulk, earning a smile from Matt

Matt nodded, quickly pressing his lips to yours once more, "I love it, baby, y'so sexy when you're all desperate f'me" Matt smirked.

You let out a satisfied hum and kissed him again, this time, just after kissing you back for a moment, Matt began to trail is lips down your neck and along your chest, pulling at the bust of your dress with delicate fingers to expose your hard nipple to him. He locked his mouth around it, sucking down before biting it between his teeth, toothing the sting with another warm press of his tongue.

Your back arched into him, your head falling back onto the hay with a small moan. Matt made his way down your body, watching as you arched into his touch, bunching your dress around your hips and coming to eye level with your already soaked folds. Matt groaned at the sight when he saw you weren't wearing any underwear, his mind reeling at the thought of you not wearing any all day.

Your folds glistened for him, and he swiped a gentle finger over your core, earning a soft moan from your lips as you bucked your hips, chasing the feeling.

"so pretty and perfect" Matt uttered, his breath hot over your pussy as he edged impossibly close.

He wanted to tease you, he really did, but the sight of you like this for him, in a pretty sundress, spread open in an old barn with cowgirl boots on and no underwear, Matt was desperate to taste you.

Matt pressed a soft kiss against your slick folds, brushing his thumb over your puffy clit as his tongue dipped into your sopping hole. Your hands found his hair, pressing gentle fingers into his scalp as he began to lap at your pussy.

A soft, breathy moan left your lips, your legs coming to hang over his shoulders, boots wrapped behind his head as he groaned at the taste of you on his tongue.

"fuck, Matt, that feels so good" you moaned, head rolling on its hinge as your eyes fluttered shut.

Matt hummed in response, the vibrations making you clench around nothing as he continued to lap and kiss at your pussy, his nose brushing against your clit periodically, sending bouts of shivers up your spine every time.

It was blissful, his slow pace making your whole body tingle as you moaned his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth. He was bringing you to eye watering orgasm with just his mouth, working you so slow and tenderly, his steady pace making your stomach tense and your legs tighten around his head. You were a whimpering mess, moaning his name over and over again as you approached your high on his tongue.

it was as if Matt had a sixth sense that was tuned into your body, knowing exactly when you were going to cum without having to be told. He kept his pace, lapping softly at your pussy, driving you to a piercing orgasm. You were seeing stars, releasing your cum all over his mouth as you ground your hips against his face desperately.

Matt continued his pressure against your pussy, helping you ride out your orgasm. Your hands found his jaw, and you pulled at him, dragging him away from your pussy and whimpering as you pulled him upwards to you. Matt chuckled, crawling up your body and following your request as you pulled him down into you, kissing him with feverish need.

"see how good you taste, baby?" Matt spoke into your mouth.

You whined into the kiss, and Matt flipped you both over, so you were on top of him, sopping pussy pressed against the rough material of his jeans. He toyed with the fabric of your dress, pushing his hands under the material and pressing bruises into your skin as you ground down onto him, kissing him like he was oxygen and you were struggling to breathe.

You moved your kisses down his neck, inching your hands down the buttons of his shirt. You expertly unbuttoned his flannel, his bare chest exposed to you as you pushed it open, leaving it loose on his arms. You arched into him as you peppered wet kisses down his stubble ridden jaw, down his neck and across his chest. You were crawling down his body, your tongue inching closer and closer to the little trail of hair that led to your favourite thing.

You paused as you reached his bulge, palming him through his jeans as you looked up at him through your lashes. You fiddled with his belt, Matt helping you remove his jeans and boxers in one swift movement. His leaking cock slapped against his stomach, the sight of it making your mouth water as Matts gentle hand found your jaw, moving to the back of your head to take a handful of your hair.

You took Matts length in your hand, pumping him slowly as you hovered your mouth over his leaking tip. His head hung back, jaw slack as a soft moan left his lips.

You wrapped your lips around him, lowering your head down his length with a flat tongue against his stiff length. Matts grip on your hair tightened, him fighting every muscle in his body not to fuck into your mouth, wanting to let you do your thing that you did so well. You began to bob your head up and down against him, hollowing your cheeks out as you let him bottom out in your throat.

Matt gently guided your head down onto him, pressing his hips against your lips as you gagged around him.

"fuck, baby, your mouth feels s'good" Matt said breathlessly, letting you continue to bob up and down on him.

You hummed around him, the vibration sending a jolt up his spine as he softly bucked his hips into your mouth. Your hand came up to his balls, cupping him with a tender pressure, a throaty moan escaped his lips at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he let you work your mouth over him.

Pools of saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth, your throat opening to take his whole length as you flattened your tongue against him, the thick vein running up his cock tickling your taste buds as you lost yourself in the motion.

Matts stomach began to tighten, legs twitching periodically and you knew his was close. Before he could unload in your mouth, you pulled off him completely with a pop, earning a desperate whine from Matt who's head shot up at the feeling of your mouth no longer around him.

"why'd you stop?" he whined, eyes trained on your glistening mouth.

you chuckled, rising to straddle him, pumping his wet and sticky cock from behind you as you lined yourself up with his tip.

"I wanna ride you, cowboy" you said seductively, swiping his cock through your puffy folds.

Matt groaned at you taking control, loving when you rode him and loving it even more when you called him silly nicknames like that. He attempted to muster up a witty reply, but his train of thought was cut off by your gummy walls clenching around him as you lowered yourself onto his cock.

Matt let out a blissful sigh, eyes closing at the sensation of being nestled in your warm pussy. You bit down on your lip as he entered you, bringing your hands to rest on his chest as small whimpers left your throat, instinctively grinding your clit down against the small scattering of hair at the base of his cock.

Matts eyes fluttered open, locking with yours as he took in the sight above him, one hand finding your hip as the other tucked behind his head. He loved you like this, needy and desperate to make him feel good, and the sight of you, tits hanging out your dress as it laid bunched up around your hips, steadily bouncing up and down his hard cock, made his head spin.

You leaned forward slightly, pressing your body weight against Matts chest though your palms and you began to shift your ass up and down, dragging your tight walls over his cock as you milked him.

Matts grip on your hip was bruising, him holding you steady as you rode him. His lip was tucked between his perfect teeth, relishing in the sight of you fucking him. Your eyes were closed in pure pleasure, the stretch of your pussy around his cock making you feel lightheaded. His hand came to your ass, kneading at the flesh under your dress, he smacked the fleshy fat, soothing the sting with a massaging touch before repeating his action, spanking you as you bounced on him.

His spanks egged you on, making you feel all the more confident. You opened your eyes and smiled down at him, lip tight between your teeth.

"you look so good like this, pretty girl" He cheesed at you, shaking his head in disbelief that you were his.

You smiled at him, blushing slightly at the compliment as you picked up your pace, causing Matt to moan, his eyes closing as his head craned back into the hay.

"cum inside me, Matt, please, cum for me whilst I ride you" you muttered, your words coming out accompanied by moans, his dick hitting your gummy g-spot as you fucked down onto him harder.

Matt let out a guttural groan, pulling his hand from behind his head and palming your tit, his fingers pressing bruises into your flesh as he maintained heavy eye contact with you though his low hanging lashes.

You picked up your pace, shifting so you were rested on the bottoms of your feet, knees tight against your chest as you fucked him at a relentless pace. Matt couldn't control the noises that left his throat at the new position, the angle letting him hit a deeper spot inside you, your walls tight around his cock as he began to fuck up into you, matching your pace.

The moan that left you was throaty, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Matts balls slapped against your ass with every thrust of his hips, meeting you in the middle as you rode him.

Matts movements began to falter, breathy moans leaving his lips as he kneaded at any exposed flesh of yours he could. You were clenching hard around him, moaning his name, begging him to cum.

He didn't need to be told twice, his hand moved up to cup your jaw, pulling you own into a sloppy kiss as he pressed his cock base deep inside of you, his hips stuttering as he released spurts of white, warm cup into your perfect pussy, filling you up just like you asked. He bit down on your lip as the last remnants of his cum left his tip, coating his dick as you continued to fuck down onto him.

"I love you" he breathed into your open mouth, his whole body relaxing back into the hay.

You followed suit, letting your body weight drop down onto him as the ache of your thighs became instantly prominent, "I love you too" you muttered.

You were both spent, Matt pulling out of you with a hiss as you slumped down onto him, one leg by his side and the other over his hips. He pressed a long kiss into your hair, trailing soft tickles over your arm as you nestled into him, catching your breath on his chest.

The sun was fully set, and the light of the moon was creeping through the cracks in the battered barn walls. Crickets began to chirp outside, the night time wild life coming alive outside the barn doors.

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, and without meaning to, you both fell asleep on the hay, tangled up in one another in the warm embrace of the warm western air.

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bluesidez · 1 day

Note

Hello!!! Love that you’re taking requests now 🫶🏽 would you write a domestic!miguel fic? Like showing the chaotic but fluffy dysfunction of the O’Hara household. Miguel and the reader already have two kids, maybe reader is pregnant with the third (if you’re comfortable with writing that)

I just really need some fluff in my life lol 😅

[Five Peas In A Pod]

lab taster: @scorpihoooe 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant!Reader

summary: No family's life is exactly perfect, but it doesn't make them any less beautiful.

content warning: lots and lots of fluff, mentions of vomit, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy cravings, mentions of food, could possibly be suggestive? but not enough to warrant a huge warning, a lot of crying but I promise it's not sad

word count: 4.3k, not proofread

a/n: I apologize for this being so late! But I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

“Finally.”

Miguel slid under the covers, grunting as he inched towards your back. His breath was warm on your head as he positioned one arm under one of your pillows and another around your waist.

“How are we feeling?” he kissed your scalp and rubbed down your stomach.

“Not too great, she’s been kicking for the past forty minutes.”

“That’s no good,” Miguel shifted to place his mouth on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, mija? Did you miss me?”

Your baby girl brought her feet to where Miguel held his hand, tapping away like there was there was no tomorrow. Miguel chuckled and wrote a pattern into your skin with his thumb.

“I’m glad you two are having a lovely reunion, but I’d like to go to sleep.”

Miguel kissed up your shoulder and neck as you sighed.

“Hear that Gabi? Can you calm down until tomorrow? Mama needs to sleep so you can keep growing. We can talk in the morning.”

Like magic, Gabriella’s little feet slowed to a halt.

“She hasn’t even seen you yet and she’s already a daddy’s girl,” you weave your fingers through his over your stomach. “What’s next? She’ll look like you too?”

“Mm,” Miguel placed his lips behind your ear. “I hope she looks like you. She’ll be the most beautiful in the world.”

You smiled, “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Miguel took his hands down your body and massaged your hip and lower back. You groaned and melted into your pillow, arching your body into Miguel’s hold. With his ministrations and your daughter giving you a break, you start to fade into dreamland.

You could almost visualize your next craving you were going to make tomorrow. A big bowl of mashed potatoes with chunks of pickles, bacon, and caramel drizzle. Maybe some sprinkles too.

The door of the bedroom creaked, Miguel looking over his shoulder.

“Daddy? Mommy? I threw up.”

Miguel’s hands paused and he heaved a heavy sigh.

There was a dip in the bed and a shuffle of slides across the floor.

“Is your stomach still feeling funny, bub?”

You turned your body to watch Miguel bend down and check your second oldest for soiled clothes. Daniel shook his head and tucked his chin into his chest, eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was shaking. “I didn’t mean to.”

You got up on the edge of the bed and walked around to the other side. You sat on your knees next to Miguel and pressed the back of your hand to Daniel’s forehead. He wasn’t burning up, but he was trembling.

“We know you didn’t mean to, honey. Sometimes, we just get sick. It’s ok!”

“Yeah, buddy. Papá gets sick all of the time.”

“Really?” Daniel looked to Miguel with big doe eyes, a baby picture of Miguel brought to life.

“Absolutely.”

“And Mama has to nurse him back to health-”

“Ok! Here,” Miguel tugged at the sleeves of his shirt while you laugh. “Let’s clean you up and get you some medicine. It was probably really scary, huh?”

Daniel nodded his head as Miguel helped him take off his pajama pants.

“C’mon. Let’s take a quick bubble bath. How does that sound? No need to be sad,” you gave Daniel a hug and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll get the sheets and clothes in the washing machine and join you.” Miguel said as he helped you up. So much for cuddles before bed.

Miguel was quick to scope Daniel’s room. Any smell of tonight’s stir fry mixed with the chocolate milk from lunch and your waves of morning sickness might come back. He was quick to transfer the sheets to the washing machine and spray the room down with disinfectant. Luckily, the damage wasn’t drastic, so a quick change of sheets and a mop to the floor was all that was needed.

By the time he got to the bathroom, Daniel was wrapped up in a green dinosaur hoodie towel with a smile on his face as you blew raspberries into his cheek.

Miguel gasped, “Are you two having a party without me?”

Daniel folded his hands under his chin and nodded meekly, face rosy.

“Nonsense!” Miguel swept him up in his arms. “There’s no party without Papá, no?”

The hall filled with giggles as Miguel airplaned Daniel back to his room. The chatter amongst them filled the noise as Miguel reassured Daniel that he and mommy would only be a room away if was feeling sick again.

He ran lotion over his body and placed him in paw print pajamas. He wrapped him tight in the covers and shifted the star night light on the nightstand. With a whisper of goodnight, Miguel inched his way to the door.

However, the crumbling face of the five year old as Miguel looked through the crack tugged at his heart. He opened the door, swept Daniel up, and trudged back to his own bedroom.

Walking into the room, you were laying down with the opposite side of the duvet flipped up and an extra pillow in between yours and his.

Your face was knowing, a shake in your shoulders as you watched Miguel rock a clingy baby in his arms to the bed.

“Joining mommy and daddy, Daniel?”

“Uh huh,” he crawls to the middle and pulls the covers up. You lay a hand on his tummy over the duvet as Miguel slips in with a deep sigh.

He turns and places his hand over yours, the two of you acting as a shield. “I love you’s” and “good nights” are exchanged and a kiss between the two of you is shared before Daniel whines about wanting a kiss too. Both of you laugh and kiss him on his cheeks as he settled into his pillow.

You rub his chest lightly, something that put him to sleep easily as a baby.

His eyes start to close, almost gone to the world, before he jerks back up, startling Miguel whose eyes were just as heavy.

“Papá, can you sing the night-night song?” Daniel pleads.

A soft breath escapes your nose as you watch Miguel blink his eyes open and comply.

“But you have to go to sleep after this, bub.”

Daniel promises to do so as Miguel starts up a lullaby about a baby that wants to sleep but can’t.

It works on you too, the low drum of his voice holding you in his arms as you held your baby in yours.

Gabriella moved, and as softly as you can, you take his hand to your stomach. With this, she taps softly to his palm.

Miguel smiles sleepily as he watches you take a little breath, the rise and fall of your chest showing that you were in a deep sleep.

He only stops singing when he’s sure all three of you are asleep.

“Jaime, I’ve asked you five times to get up already. Get it together.”

There was only one more hour left before everyone needed to be out of the house or else you’d be late to your appointment.

The lump in the bed only moves a bit before it’s still again.

“Jaime, please. I don’t want to have to pull you out of the bed.”

Today was already starting out all over the place. You woke up sweaty and achy, the heat radiating from your furnace of a husband and your snuggly son was too much. Your ankles felt a little more swollen than usual, and you wanted chewy spicy rice cakes with extra cheese, but the heartburn wouldn’t be worth it.

You sighed as your eldest stayed put. A soft pat to the bed only earned a whine and a wiggle from him.

Looking towards the growing footsteps at the door, your husband was frantic and glaring at his watch as if it cursed him.

“What’s the holdup? We need to be in the car soon and Daniel has to be at school early for a field trip.”

You held your hand out to the bed, face defeated.

“Son.”

Jaime shot up with a wobble to his lips and a scrunch to his face at the tone of Miguel’s voice.

You folded your arms, half concerned, half offended.

“I know you hear your mother asking you to get up.”

“But-“

“Jaime O’Hara.”

The tears start to fall as he shuffles out of bed and goes to the bathroom, his cries pitiful and broken.

He swings the door like he’s about to slam it only to close it softly at the end, the sound of his voice carrying through then hallway.

“Was I too hard on him?” Miguel’s shoulders drop.

“No? I don’t think so. But I think there’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Is there something going on at school? Did we miss an important date?”

The two of you stare at each other as Jaime continues to sob in the bathroom.

“There’s no award ceremonies. He hasn’t said anything strange about his classmates. His birthday isn’t until the end of the year. He does have his game coming up.”

Miguel gasps and runs his had through his hair, “He’s been worrying about his 3-pointers nonstop. He’s probably nervous about it.”

He puts his face in his hand and mumbles through his fingers.

“How could I forget?”

You pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry about that right now. What’s important is that we talk to him. Check up on him, calm him down, explain things to him, and encourage him. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Miguel kisses your temple. “You’re so good at this.”

A snicker follows his statement, “And so are you. Now, can you go stop his crying while I make sure Daniel hasn’t made a mess in the kitchen? He’s too quiet.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up again as he realized he left the kindergartner to his own devices. The last time he did that, he walked onto a floor covered in flour and dusty, giggly baby.

“Smart idea.”

“Mm hm.”

Miguel turns and heads towards the bathroom, giving it two knocks before asking to come in.

Jaime takes a deep breath and pushes out a yes.

Miguel opens the door to him crying in the mirror while he puts up his toothbrush. If it were anyone else’s child or baby brother, it could have been funny and dramatic, but Miguel sees himself in the way his entire chest jumps when he breathes in.

He hopes Jaime always feels that home is a safe place to cry and yell, something his own parents never offered him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He left his frustration with the frantic morning at the doorway and stepped inside. With one hand on the counter and another arm resting on his thigh, he squatted down to Jaime’s level.

His son rubbed his eyes from the inside of his elbow to his arm, “I kept messing up.”

“Messing up what? Your shots?”

Jaime nodded his head, curly hair bouncing along with it.

“At practice, Coach made us do Around-the-worlds and the further from the goal, the more I kept missing. But the game is soon, and I can’t mess up at the game.”

His voice reached its highest point and he bit his lip in order not to cry again.

“Oye, está bien. That’s just practice, mijo. The game isn’t until a few more days. There’s plenty of time for us to get to a court and do some more drills. I know it feels like a lot right now, but we can always work to be better. Understood?”

Jaime nodded his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Jaime pouted as he turned to Miguel.

“I apologize for not giving you the space to explain yourself this morning. I was rushing and I didn’t take the time to check on you. For that, Papá’s sorry. Lo siento, mijo.”

With a calmer demeanor, Jaime forgives him. No whines and no hesitation.

“Still, when you’re feeling like this, you need to communicate, ok? Mamá was there and you could have told her that you were worried. You could have even called for me and I would have come running.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Mamá.”

Miguel bit the inside of his lip in order to not coo, “I know you didn’t. Would you like to apologize to her like I did to you?”

Jaime collided with Miguel’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. He could feel the movement of his head nodding.

“Ok, buddy. Let’s go find her after we get your uniform on.”

Jaime wasn’t budging from his spot so Miguel let him cling off his neck as he got up. One day his eldest might not want to do things like this again, so for now he’ll cherish it.

One blazer, some knaki shorts, and a button down later, Jaime was all ready for school.

“And what do we say when we’re feeling down about ourselves?” Miguel asked as he tucked in the end of Jaime’s belt.

“Nothing can stop me from the path I want to take, not even my doubts.”

“And?”

“O’Hara’s may make mistakes, but O’Hara’s bounce back. O’Hara’s succeed.”

“¡Exactamente!” Miguel patted his back.

“¿Papá?”

“¿Sí, mijo?”

Jaime held his hands up, silently pleading with Miguel.

With an easy tug, his son was in his arms. As tall as he was getting, he was still Miguel’s baby.

In the kitchen, you were leaning over the island as you listened intensely to Daniel talk about types of dinosaurs. You looked up to your son in your husband’s arms and you knew they had a good talk.

Miguel strode up to you and looked at Jaime expectantly.

“I,” he picked at his uniform tie. “I’m sorry for not listening to you this morning Mamá. I was sad but that- that doesn’t mean I was supposed to ignore you.”

Your eyes started to water, “I forgive you, Jaime. I’m glad you were able to figure out what was wrong. Can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, you kiss his cheek and place a hand on his head.

“Papá, pick me up too!” Daniel huffs out.

Miguel complies, holding him in his other arm like nothing. You giggle at the three of them, all very similar in some way. Their skin, their hair, their smiles. Your precious, precious boys.

A sharp kick to your stomach causes you to suck in through your teeth.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks with a pinch in his brow.

“No, I just think a certain someone wants your attention, too.”

You gently press your stomach to your husband’s, hoping that he could feel Gabriella’s tap dance performance.

“She’s going crazy in there,” you mumble.

Miguel can kind of feel her little feet through his shirt, but really, he was staring at you.

Even as you frowned at your stomach, you were still so beautiful. Your skin was glowing, you were giving him more smiles than ever, and the pregnancy was treating your body right in his eyes.

“Mírame.”

You peer up at him and it’s like a halo appears above your head. He’s quick to slot his lips against yours and hold it, the feeling of warmth settling into his bones.

“Eugh,” Jaime scrunches his face up in disgust.

You pull back and shake your head with a heated face, brought back to reality. Daniel is giggling behind his hands.

Miguel turned to Jaime and bombarded his face with kisses to, leading the 9-year-old to scream bloody murder. You joined Miguel on his attack, not stopping until Jaime waved his white flag.

The two of you looked at each other and then at Daniel simultaneously who squeaked when he saw you grin. Laughter filled the kitchen as the three of you gave Daniel some love.

Mornings were for chaos, but they also brought you together.

By the time Miguel was walking to the car with his kids, it was far past his estimated time.

He turned and looked at you still standing by the kitchen counter.

“Baby, c’mon.”

“But,” you pause, smile growing on your face. “The baby wants to be carried, too.”

You think he’s about to brush the comment off with a sigh but he gives a “One sec” and disappears into the garage with the kids.

You go to gather your purse and your water, checking that all of the lights and appliances are turned off.

“Ok,” Miguel rushes back in and claps his hands, “vamos.”

Three blinks at his wrestler stance and it clicks. You walk to him and your feet leave the ground.

“You’re so silly,”

“Just in love, mi amor.”

The gel was still as cold as ever, you could never really get used to it.

Looking to Miguel, you could see that he could never get used to sitting next to you in these rooms either. His grip on your hand was tight and solid.

The obstetrician slid the transducer on your lower stomach, her eyes sliding over the screen.

Gabriella’s little heartbeat bounced through the room, fast and strong.

Miguel’s grip on your hand loosened as he smiled at the screen.

“Baby girl is looking good,” the doctor says. “Everything is in place and she’s growing perfectly. You both should be proud.”

She paused and looked at you both, specifically at Miguel, “I would be worried about how she big she’s getting at this stage, but I can see why. How tall are you?”

“Uh, 6’9.”

A whistle passes her lips, “Godspeed, Mama. You’ll need it for the next several months.”

“Two boys and my only girl is going to give me a run for my money,” you mumble.

Jaime and Daniel were so tiny when they came out, both of them barely showing at five months. Gabriella is close to being almost twice their size at this rate, and the soreness all over your body was showing it.

At least your husband made time to make you feel good in more ways than one.

“Is there anything that she should look out for? Other than the obvious?” Miguel asks, always the worrier.

“No, I think you guys are good to go. I’ll get you some pictures of the baby and get you checked out. Just keep taking your vitamins, get plenty of water, get those feet up, and stretch as much as you can while you still feel like it. The least stress you have, the better.”

Your stomach is wiped clean and in no time, you’re back in the car trying to decide what to get for lunch.

“I feel like I should have asked more questions,” Miguel’s fingers tapped on the wheel.

“I’m sure you’ll have more that you can call her for later, baby. Right now, I want a milkshake.”

“You need some nourishing food, too.”

“Is that what you want Gabriella?” you ask your stomach. No taps, no spins, no twirls. “What about a milkshake? Chocolate oreo? Extra whip cream?” Gabriella thumps three times.

“My girl is already so smart,” you say to Miguel who scowls.

“Already so spoiled.”

“You love it, though.”

“Mm.”

Miguel swore he would never be like those fathers that only connected to their children through their own expectations of them, and to be fair, he was the complete opposite.

Though seeing him stand at the bottom of the bleachers with a baseball cap, folded arms, and a stern face gave the impression that he was that type of dad.

“¡Ay, eso es faulta!”

“Babe. Maybe let’s let the couch and the referee do their jobs.”

“They don’t know what they’re doing. That was clearly a foul and my son should be holding the ball right now.”

You sighed and continued to chew on your nachos with Daniel who was just happy to be out of the house later than usual. Miguel was about to burn a hole in the gymnasium floor with how stiff he was standing.

Behind him was a family that couldn’t see, leaning around him.

“Miguel, honey, please sit down so everyone can see.”

He sits and folds his hands under his chin. His muscles bulge through his jacket as his legs bounce.

You place a hand on his leg and put a water bottle to his lips. He takes a few sips and focuses back on the game.

“Let’s go, Jaime! Make it count!”

He’s back on his feet again as Jaime gets ready to shoot some free-throws.

Jaime looks at Miguel, a hint of fear in his eyes. Miguel brings his hands up and pushes them down, motioning a deep breath.

“You got this, mijo. Just like we practiced.”

Your son dribbles once, twice, and takes the shot.

The basketball flies through the air and brushes the rim of the basket. It spins and the gym goes quiet. You don’t realize your holding your breath until it comes back when the people behind you stomp on the bleachers.

Jaime looks to Miguel with the brightest face he could muster. Miguel almost springs through the ceiling with how high he jumps.

“That’s my son,” he claps his hands like thunder, chest puffing up. “That’s my son!”

The game continues with Miguel milliseconds from fighting with the official, Jaime looking to Miguel for encouragement, and you smacking the back of his thighs whenever he was standing too much.

When Jaime made the final basket, you were scared Miguel might do a backflip.

Jaime ran to him and jumped in his arms, Miguel spinning him around and laughing with glee.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!”

“¡Eres increíble, mijo! I’m so proud of you.”

“Did you see me, mommy?”

“I did! I couldn’t take my eyes off of you!”

Daniel jumps up and down, “You made the ball go whoosh! And, and, and when it went in everybody screamed!”

Jaime and his brother played together as the gym started to empty out.

“What do you say we celebrate with some pizza?” you ask Miguel as you watch Jaime help Daniel dribble.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“And what do you say to carton of cotton candy ice cream after the kids go to bed? Maybe even a soak in the bath?”

Miguel looked to you as you blinked your eyes at him. You slid your hands down his arm and tilted your head.

“You want vanilla wafers too?”

You nod.

“And strawberry syrup?”

“You’re such a good husband.”

You pull him down to kiss him, heart soaring.

“Mamá! Look what I can do!”

“No, Daniel! Don’t jump off that!”

“If I hear that raccoon sing that song one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Miguel bit into a slice of pizza.

You reached across the table to wipe some ranch off of his lips and lick it away.

“I like the song! He’s a little off-key, though.”

Miguel had a grimace on his face, the energy from the building overwhelming. Or perhaps it was Daniel clinging tight to his side whenever the mascot came close to their table.

A couple of kids ran by, running towards the line for laser tag.

You listened to them go over strategies, all very serious coming from them.

“God, I can’t believe he’ll be 10 soon. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You poke the straw of your cup in and out, pout on your face. It felt like just yesterday you and Miguel were setting up his nursery.

“I remember him grabbing my finger at the hospital. So strong for someone who couldn’t eat solids yet.”

“Now he’s running around and blooming into this perfect little boy,” you sigh, watching him catapult into a ballpit. You should definitely make him take some vitamins later, just to be sure.

“And this little boy is the sweetest,” Miguel kissed the top of Daniel’s head, who seemed to be pre-occupied with a coloring book you packed.

“And once our little girl is in our arms, it’ll be so special,” you say. “She’s already making an impact.”

“I’m already crazy about her,” Miguel grins.

“And I’m ready for her to come out,” you snicker. “I have a feeling that whatever she’ll do will involve these rapid fire feet.”

“I need to get some new running shoes then,” Miguel replies in all seriousness. Daniel interrupted him with a drawing of a T-rex.

“When she gets here,” Miguel comments in between his praise for Daniel’s skill, “how do you want to celebrate afterwards?”

“I don’t need anything. Just maybe a plate of food I couldn’t eat and a comfy bed.”

“Mamà, c’mon,” Miguel held your hand across the table. “That can be arranged easily. I mean something especially for you for doing something so amazing. It can be anything. I’ll make it happen.”

Your heart sped up, a bit giddy.

“Well the last time we took a trip to an island and,” you panned to Daniel, “we both know how that ended. Maybe the mountains?”

“We can do the mountains. Or just you and your friends if you want.”

Miguel thought about you all bundled up and cozy, enjoying s'mores and wine in a sweater and a blanket. Peak cuddling form.

“That would be very nice. Thank you, Miggy.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a friendly game of arcade racing?”

“There’s nothing friendly about leaving you in the dust.”

Miguel scoffed and slid Daniel into his arms.

“It’s on.”

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! This was very sweet to write!!

#to the lab testers 🩻#love lab fics 🧫#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #pregnant reader #miguel o'hara x pregnant reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #domestic miguel o'hara #domestic!miguel o'hara

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scarlethexelove · 3 days

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It's Always The Drummer

Pairing: Drummer!Kate Bishop x Fan!Reader

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: Smut, Kate is a charming, Drumsticks being used for penetration, Service Top! Kate, Kate definitely cums just from getting R off, A bit of Beefy Kate.

A/n: As the last few fics I have to thank @wandamaximoffsbadgirl for helping with this. We have been doing this really fun back and forth were we right the fic together. It's super fun and can be surprising when one writes a something you weren't expecting. As for the fic I just had the idea pop into my head randomly while playing some Fortnite. Please enjoy 😁

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You can't believe that your all-time favorite band is coming to town. You stayed up all night just to get tickets. Sadly, you weren't able to get VIP tickets due to how expensive they are, but you knew if you got here early enough, you could maybe get front row. Your friends stand around you as you all talk about the band. Most of them are obsessed with either the lead singer Natasha, the guitarist Wanda, or bassist Yelena. You, on the other hand, have a big crush on the drummer Kate.

Kate was perfect on drums, and gods, the smirk on her face when she was performing, made you feel something. You had picked out an amazing outfit. You knew Kate's favorite color was purple, so you went with purple and black. Looking yourself over with all your friends beside you. You'd get to see her up close, you just knew it!

You hear some laughter that sounds familiar from behind you. You turn around and spot her. There she is, Kate Bishop in the flesh. Laughing with Wanda, Nat, and Yelena. You can't help as you start to smack the arm of your friend next to you without even taking your eyes off the women. You knew they'd be doing all the VIP stuff soon, but your friend murmurs. “oww Y/n/n.” As they walk by everyone is freaking out when Natasha calls out. “Each of us will be picking one person to be upgraded to VIP!” And of course everyone is freaking out and hoping to be picked.

You internally start to panic. There is no way you'll get picked. The women walk down the line, but as you watch Kate, her eyes seem to keep flicking towards you. You're pretty sure you're just seeing things, but it gives you hope. Of course, you would take any of them picking you, but if Kate did, you might just die.

The girls go and pick theirs. Natasha first, then Wanda, and then Yelena. Kate was last. None of your friends had been picked, but then it happened. Kate holds out her hand at you. “Care to join me?” You could die happy right now as you place your hand in yours. Forgetting all about your friends. She pulls you along, and as you round the corner around the building, she wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you into her side. You can't help the audible gasp that escapes you, and you don't miss the smirk on her face. Your heart races with excitement and fear. You can't believe this is happening.

Kate leans in and whispers in your ear. “You're very beautiful, you know.” A blush covers your cheeks. “N-Not as beautiful as you-you are.” You stutter. She lets out a melodic laugh at your stuttering. “No need to be nervous.” Her grip tightens on you. “We're gonna have some fun, okay beautiful?” You nod, which has Kate raising a brow at you. She holds the door open for you to let you into the band's entrance. “I need words princess.” You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Yes, um yeah of course.” You curse yourself for how stupid you sound. “My name’s Kate but I'm assuming you already know that.” Her confidence has your knees weak. “Y/n.” You tell her which causes her to smile. “Y/n I like the sound of that. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Kate's words have you blushing as she brings you to a room with her name on it. The opening to reveal what was a place for Kate to get ready, but there was something that was off and caught your eye. A bed. “U-um what's that for? Don't you guys just um like get ready in here?” Kate chuckles. “I like to take naps before the shows... along with some other activities.” She throws you a wink.

This is amazing, and you hate to admit the fact you would let Kate do anything, but something nags at the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot?” She looks at you. “Do what?” She asks and you can't tell if she's serious or not. “Bring...um bring girls here?” You can't look at her, but you hear a chuckle. “We each pick someone out, but usually I have no interest in anyone, but since the others do it. I do too, but…” She picks your chin up gently. “You caught my eye tonight. I know you saw me looking pretty girl.”

You're as red as a tomato and she can tell how nervous you are. “Princess we don't have to do anything you don't want to. I will bring girls back because of the others but I don't actually do anything with them. But you seem different... special.” Kate gives you a genuine smile. “I...um…” You feel your head spin and you feel like you're on fire. “I really um.” She leans over and cups your cheeks, whispering in your ear. “Just a yes or no is fine princess. You don't have to explain yourself.” She tells you. “Yes.” You breathe out.

Kate smiles, pulling you closer by your hips. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours. You melt into her as you kiss her back. Her fingers dig into your hips. “So beautiful.” She mumbles against your lips. A whine escapes your lips. This is all you've ever wanted since you found out about this band and saw Kate. You never thought you'd be here, and you find yourself chasing her lips. For a moment you wonder if she's lying and she does this all the time, but you don't care. You'll show her the best time she's ever had.

Kate picks you up easily, and you wrap your legs around her waist. She carries you to the bed, laying you down as she hovers over you. “You're so beautiful under me. I could get used to this.” You nod. “Me too.” You pull her down and kiss her again. The kisses get heated as she rolls her hips against you, and you moan out. “Fuck...Kate…” You desperately try to pull her closer. “Mmm need you.” She starts stripping both of you down and you feel like it couldn't be fast enough. You pull at her shirt. “Please.” You whine wanting her to go faster. “Patience princess.” You whine louder. She grips your hips tighter. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” She asks and you let out another whine. “Words princess.” She grips your face, your eyes dilating.

“I'll be good, please I need this. Need you Kate please.” Your words come out fast. “Good girl.” A blush rises to your cheeks at her words. She leans up and pulls her shirt off. You can't help but drool at the site. She obviously had super toned arms from being a drummer, but what you hadn't expected was how perfect her abs were. Before you even realize it, you've reached out and lightly touched them.

“Like what you see beautiful?” Kate leans down and kisses you, barely giving you time to squeak out a yes. Her tongue pushes past your lips, moving together and letting her take the lead. Her tongue explores your mouth, which only causes you to moan. She gladly swallows your sounds.

When Kate pulls away, you can't help but chase after her lips as a soft whine escapes you. She is already loving the sounds coming out of you and can't wait to see what else she can pull out.

Kate gets you undressed, running her hands over your body, admiring every bit of you. She gets up for a moment to finish undressing herself. You hadn't even noticed until now as she pulls them out. Her famous light up drumsticks were tucked into her back pocket.

You've seen them all over social media over the years, but your focus is always divided between them and the fingers that twirl them around. “Oh wow…” it comes out breathy, and Kate smirks when she notices. “Oh, do you like my drum sticks? I had them custom-made.” She holds them put towards you. “Y-yeah, I always see them in videos.” You mumble slightly embarrassed. She chuckles as an idea pops in her head. “Princess, do you trust me?” You nod faster than you should. You seriously only met the girl, but everything seems so right.

Kate smirks, taking back the sticks and having you lay back. “Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?”She just wants to make sure you are comfortable and that she doesn’t hurt you. “Mhmm yes.” She takes one of the sticks and slowly pushes it inside of you. A moan coming out as you tip your head back at the feeling. It's a new sensation compared to what you've taken before. It's not thick but it's so long. You can hear Kate panting slightly above you as she watches her stick disappear inside of you. She didn't expect to find it so hot, but watching how your greedy cunt just sucks it in has her blinded with pleasure.

“Fuck princess you're so hot. Look at you taking me so nicely like that. Do you think you can take both?” Kate asks, looking at you with darkened eyes. “I-I can try...mmm please? W-wanna try Kate.” She pulls the stick all the way out which causes a whine to escape you. Your walls clench around nothing as you feel empty now.

Kate presses the tips of both sticks at your entrance before letting them slowly sink in. “F-fuck!” You gasp at the stretch. “That's a good girl…” Kate bites her lip and the way she's moving, the sounds she's making you'd swear she was getting off as much as you were from this. The sticks hit the deepest part of you, as you arch up into them. “Fuck...f-feels so good Kate...mmm.” She picks up the pace as she plunges the sticks over and over again into your greedy hole. One of your hands reaching out and reaching around her biceps. You can feel it flex with every thrust.

“K-Kate...Katie cumming...I'm gonna..ah.” Kate looks up at you, face all flushed. “Me too princess go on. Cum all over my drum sticks.” Her voice is so deep and husky as you feel the coil tighten inside of you. You feel her tremble, and her muscles flex as she groans out.

Your nails dig into her biceps as your back arches off the bed. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the tips of the drumsticks hit that spot deep inside you. You fall over the edge, coating her sticks and fingers in your juices. You hear her moan loudly as you're pretty sure she just came from getting you off.

Kate slows down before coming to a stop. Pulling them out and admiring them covered in your slick. As you come back down from the high you catch her staring at them making you blush. She smirks as she notices you staring at her. You're both still slightly panting. “Fuck princess you're so perfect under me.” The blush deepens as you whimper. “W-well, you're perfect above me.” She smirks and leans down to give you another kiss when there's a knock at the door, making you jump. “Busy!” Kate yells to whoever knocked on the door. “Kate, we have to meet VIPs in 5.” You heard Yelena call through the door.”No problem, Lena, we'll be there.” Kate yells back. “W-we.” You stutter out. She smiles down at you and holds out her hand. “I'm not letting you go that easy princess.” You don't know if you could get any redder, but you're pretty sure your face is as red as a tomato now.

Kate pulls you up with her and helps you get dressed before dressing herself. Both of you making sure that your looks don't scream we just fucked in the dressing room. You two manage to join the VIPs, getting treated just like one with all the special little bits that came along with it. You guys got a special spot on the side of the stage and you weren't even upset about your friends not being with you. How could you be when you got to be with Kate Fucking Bishop and get the VIP upgrade for free?

As the opening band plays, Kate comes up behind you and pulls you back to where the other VIPs don't notice her standing there with you. Luckily, it's dark enough. She wraps her arms around your waist behind swaying with you to the music and enjoying the opening band with you.

Kate kisses your neck, which has you gasping. “Enjoying the show, princess?” She whispers in your ear, and you nod in response, which makes her smile. “I'm gonna enjoy it more once you get on stage.” You look back and up at her, kissing her jawline. “You better not take your eyes off me.” Kate says in your ear. “I wouldn't dream of it Katie.” You smile and kiss her as the opening band gets ready to play their last song. She pulls away leaving you chasing her, but she has to go and so you watch her disappear once more.

The opening band finishes up their set and heads off, high fiving all of the VIPs as they pass by. It takes a few minutes as the sets are all changed. The anticipation rising within you. The crowd starts to go crazy as they get the first glance of the band waiting to come out. Natahsa is the first one out with a loud roar from the crowd. Wanda follows, and the Yelena. Last is Kate. She struts onto the stage, catching your eye as she winks at you before she turns around and does a backflip on stage. The crowd went absolutely nuts at this. You can tell she is just showing off to impress you.

You smile, a little chuckle coming out of you as you shake your head at her. Kate sits herself down at her drums. Pulling out the sticks she just used on you making your face flush. You notice how the sticks glisten in the light more than normal. You can't help the gasp that escapes your lips. Kate smirks at you as she notices your reaction. The realization that dawns on you in that moment. She licks over the stick, staring you down. Watching your reaction intently. You feel yourself clench around nothing but you remember the sensation of the drumsticks inside of you. A pool of wetness is between your thighs once more. She gives you a wink as she starts off the set. She is absolutely going to be the death of you, but you couldn't ask for anything more.

The sets goes on, and you can't believe the night you're having. The spot is amazing and the fact you actually got fucked by your celebrity crush has your head spinning and your pinching yourself. The show is everything you could have asked for. The night was everything and more. Even if it turns out to be a one-time thing you'd get to tell your friends you fucked Kate Bishop.

The show came to an end with an amazing encore. As the band exits the stage on the other side, Kate does the opposite. She comes right up to you, grabbing you by the hips and kissing you. She doesn't care who sees, but you can hear the gasp around you and some cheering from afar. “I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself.” Kate pulls back a little and leans her forehead against yours.

Though you were taken by surprise at the drummer's forwardness, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and smiled. “You did amazing Katie.” You tell her before kissing again. You can see the flashes of people's phones going off at the two of you as you bury your face against her. Not used to this at all. She chuckles, wrapping her arms around you fully and lifting you up in her arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around her waist. “Let me take you on a real date princess.” She says as she walks you back towards the dressing room. You nod into her neck, and she kisses the side of your head. “And maybe it will just have to be a breakfast date.” Her voice gets low and sultry, which has you shuddering.

You're excited about where this could lead. In a sea full of beautiful women, Kate chose you, and maybe she will always pick you.

#syd speaks #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop smut #kate bishop fanfic #kate x reader #kate x y/n #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader smut #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader #drummer!kate #fan!reader

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dcandmarvelimagines · 1 day

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sweeter than you ever knew. (pt 5)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, this chapter is just smut, unprotected sex (p in v), rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, cum eating, nipple play, whiff of breeding kink (I'm very funny), biting, reader has a nightmare that's a little graphic but brief, Wade is very annoying lmao Author's note: I can't believe it's over!!!! It's insane to me how much love and support this had gotten :') I just want to say thank you so much from the bottom of my heart! Please enjoy! <3 ao3 Tags (if I forgot someone I'm so sorry!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @amararosesblog @bontensbabygirl @belgium2 @g0ldenstarr @wolvndmouth @sseleniaa @reddesires @harryshousewhore @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @clancy-the-pretty-odd-killjoy @geckosssssss

The next few days were a haze of food, sleeping, tender touches, and above all else, comfort. Most days I awoke to Wade cuddling close. Logan was too much of an early riser to stay in bed. He would get antsy the longer he lingered, grumbling about how he couldn’t just lay around all day. But I found that sleepy smiles and little nibbles to his jaw could convince him to stay. Even more so if I just happened to push my butt against his hips.

My leg was healing well, the bruise fading to a dull purple after a few days. The pain was manageable but it always hurt in those first few hours of the day. Wade was more than happy to rub and kiss at my skin every morning. I stopped needing the painkillers during the day but Logan insisted I take one before bed to minimize any discomfort in the morning. It was easy to sleep with the numbing effects pumping through me. My body would feel heavy, my mind quiet and still. I never dreamed. I simply closed my eyes and awoke to the morning sun.

But I was getting better. So I opted to not take one on their last night with me. It was hard to calm my racing mind and I tossed and turned before Logan snapped a heavy arm around me. “Do you want one?” He sleepily asked. Wade was already out, flat on his back, mouth open. Both of them were able to fall asleep in moments, a skill born from their military service, but Logan was unfortunately a light sleeper.

“No,” I mumbled, tucking my head under his chin, running my nose along his throat. He had showered before getting into bed so the woody scent of his body wash was strong on his skin. “I need to stop relying on them, need to sleep on my own.” He hummed but stayed quiet. One of his big hands slipped under my shirt, rubbing soothing circles onto my skin.

I was on the chair again but my limbs were free. I stood, looking around. No one was here. The concrete room was quiet and cold. I walked slowly to the large door, peaking through the small window.

Nothing.

Swallowing, I pulled it open. To my right was endless darkness and to the left was an infinite hallway. Something shifted in the darkness as I lingered. I quickly turned to the left. There were no windows or doors as I walked.

I heard something over my shoulder. When I glanced behind, it looked like I had made no progress, the darkness still close to me. My pace quickened. I heard the sound again. A low gurgle.

I could see a window at the end of the hallway, sunlight painted across the floor. A hand ran through my hair and I started to run. Whatever was behind me ran too.

“Sweetheart.”

The sunlight wasn’t getting any closer.

But whatever was behind me was.

I felt their breath along my neck. Cold needles pricked all along my spine. I couldn’t run any harder or any faster. Something caught my foot and sent me sprawling. Before I could scramble away, a hand latched around my leg, dragging me deeper into the darkness. I screamed, nails ripping at the concrete.

“You’re safe, come on baby, wake up.”

Then I was forced onto my back to look up at my attacker. It was him. His face was half gone, eyeball hanging from a destroyed socket, brain oozing and pulsating. I tried to fight him off, clawing uselessly at his mangled face.

He glared down at me, hot blood splattering across my cheeks from his exposed skull. Then he held up the knife before plunging it deep into my chest. I wailed, fighting with everything I had.

“Come on, you gotta wake up for me.”

The knife tore from me with a disgusting sucking noise. Then he drove it in, again, and again.

I sat bolt up straight, chest heaving as I panted. Cold sweat misted my skin and my clothes stuck to it. My eyes were cloudy from unshed tears. With shaking hands, I rubbed at them, and found something warm speckling my face.

It was blood.

“You back with us?” The voice was soft but I still jumped. Logan was also sitting up, his body tense. I could see four distinct scratches along his cheek in the weak moonlight. I let out a sob, clambering into his lap, arms latched tight around his shoulders.

“I-I’m sorry,” I whimpered. He lifted the quilt over me and wrapped it tight. It didn’t stop my shivering.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Should have known better than trying to touch you while you were having a nightmare.” I kept readjusting my hold, trying to find the position with the most contact. I wanted to crawl inside him, be encased in warmth and comfort. “It’s okay,” he hummed, throat vibrating against my forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” His hands were under my shirt again, fingers digging into the tense muscles of my lower back. He let me shudder and cling to him for a few minutes, sobbing onto his shoulder, the skin quickly becoming slick with tears. “What do you need, princess?”

“Just you, please,” I lifted my head from his shoulder, “just you.” Our mouths hovered close and he nearly went cross eyed to keep me in focus. Then he nodded. The kiss was sloppy and desperate but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel him against me. He let me take charge, one hand braced on the back of my neck. For once, I wished he had worn a shirt just so I could grip it tight. I settled on digging my fingers into his hair. It had gotten long, trailing along the nape of his neck. The longer I kissed him, the more solidly in my body I felt. My head felt clearer as the last of the nightmare ebbed away.

He was making these soft, tiny groans against my lips that made heat trickle through my veins. I needed more. My hands went to my shirt but Logan stopped me, his lips pulling back, forehead against mine.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled, collecting both of my wrists in one of his. “You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“Says who?” I wiggled, trying to snake out from his grip. I knew it was impossible. But as I shifted, I felt something press against my stomach and Logan let out a faint groan when I pushed myself against it again. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

“I can smell how scared you are.”

“I’m not.” I sounded like a petulant child. I was scared. But I craved him and Wade. I wanted to let go, let them chase away all my worries, feel their skin against mine.

“Relax, take a deep breath,” Logan hummed, ignoring my useless protest. The grip on my wrists had loosened and I took advantage, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him against the headboard. Anger was swirling up in me.

“Stop telling me what I want. I thought you said you would give me anything I needed. Why is it so hard for you to think I might need you? Might need to feel…” I stumbled over the word I wanted to use, loved. Logan’s face relaxed, the worry leeching away, a soft affection replacing it.

“Just don’t want you to rush into anything just because you’re scared, that your emotions are in high gear.” I huffed.

“Then help me calm down,” I pleaded, kissing his scratchy cheek. “I know you and Wade will take good care of me.” He groaned, the sound low in his throat, eyes squeezing shut. “Please,” I whispered as I nipped the corner of his jaw. My nails lightly scraped along his chest as I waited for his response.

“Okay,” Logan sighed, tilting his head back to allow me to bite and kiss at the newly exposed skin. “We can do that for you sweetheart.” I kept up my assault on his neck, marveling at the bruises disappearing seconds after I had placed them. “Are you done pretending to sleep now?”

“I was just watching. We need to work on your self-confidence, peanut.” I shouldn’t have been surprised Wade was awake, and even less shocked that he’s been observing us. The bed behind me shifted and Logan spread his legs to accommodate Wade’s body. “If a hot piece like this is begging for sex, you shouldn’t try to convince them that they’re wrong.” Logan growled, his palms hot as they skated over my ass, before dipping into my panties, gripping the flesh. I rolled my hips over his and was rewarded by a small hitch in his breathing.

“It’s not my confidence, I just need her with us to do this.“ His voice dipped, soft and sweet again,”lean back for me baby.” I do as he asked, back flush with Wade’s chest. Wade’s lips immediately descended on my throat and he cupped my breasts through my shirt. My eyelids grew heavy as he started to circle my nipples, the fabric a pleasant scrape. “Lift her up a bit,” Logan commanded. Wade curled one arm around my waist, easily raising me an inch or two off of Logan’s lap.

Logan’s fingers dipped under the elastic of my panties, his eyes never moving from my face, examining every expression. He moved between my legs, the pad of his middle finger brushing my clit. I wasn’t wet or turned on enough, yet, for that simple touch to do anything, but I still pushed my hips forward, craving more. Wade nuzzled his face into my neck, sucking at the skin. That made me whine. Logan moved in languid motions over my clit, not too firm, and just enough to reignite the warmth inside me.

Wade removed his lips from my thoroughly spit covered neck and made a satisfied humming noise at the sight. “So beautiful.” He released my breasts and I opened my mouth to protest but he slipped under my shirt to resume his treatment before I could.

“Go back to kissing her neck, she likes it, don’t you sweetheart?” I nod, biting my lip as Wade tweaks my nipples. Logan’s middle finger traces around my entrance, collecting my slick, but going back to my clit, the new wetness making his finger glide easier.

“He gets so bossy in bed,” Wade huffed. “Next time I’m in control.” Logan’s fingers suddenly left me and I gasped in shock. He reached up, his two middle fingers extended, pointed towards Wade.

“Shut up,” Logan growled, “get these wet for her.” Wade was more than happy to oblige, lapping like a dog at the tips before swallowing them to the knuckles. With his mouth next to my ear, I could hear his exaggerated sucking and slurping. Logan groaned, hips bucking against mine briefly, before he pulled his fingers back. A long trail of spit stretched and snapped between the two. His hand dove under my underwear again, soaked finger prodding at my entrance.

“Did you, after that night in the bar,” Wade mumbled against my throat, lips tracing my racing pulse. “Logan came from just sucking you off my fingers.” I could feel the man under me tense, like he was going to attack Wade. But he relaxed when he felt how wet I had gotten from hearing that. A finger slipped inside me and I groaned, head falling back on Wade’s shoulder. Wade’s fingers were long, able to poke and prod anywhere inside me with ease. But Logan’s were thick and there was a pleasant stretch around it. “Oh look at that pretty, pretty face,” Wade cooed, abandoning my neck to kiss at my flushed cheeks. “He’s so big isn’t he?” I moaned in response as Logan started to pump into me. “But that stretch feels so fucking good. Makes your toes curl, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Logan’s chest rumbled, gripping my hip as he increased his pace. Wade reached for the hem of my shirt, one borrowed from Logan, and went to pull it over my head.

“No,” Logan rasped, thumb pressing against my clit, forcing a moan from me. “I like her in it.” Wade chuckled.

“He’s such an animal, isn’t he?” Wade teased, but let the shirt go. “He loves marking his territory. It’s going to drive him crazy to smell his cum in you.”

“Wade, shut the fuck up.” Logan’s other finger eased inside me, being as gentle as he could be. My eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open. “Look at me, sweetheart. Wanna see your face, wanna see how good I make you feel.” Wade pinched my chin and used it to angle my head down. I couldn’t see Logan’s face well in the dim room but I could see little dark splotches on his cheeks. His nostrils were flared and his chest heaved.

“God you two look so hot.” I could hear Wade sucking on something before his hands went back to toying with my nipples. My hips jerked, forcing Logan deeper into me, at the feeling of Wade’s wet fingers. He pressed himself closer and I could feel the defined ridge of his cock against my back.

Logan’s grip on my hip became tighter as he guided me over his hand in long rolls. “There you go princess,” he mumbled. “Make yourself feel good for me. Take what you need.” Fuck. Those words made desire rush through me. I leaned forward, hands braced on Logan’s wide chest, and started to grind against his fingers. I could feel his heart racing under my palms. He curled his fingers just right that made pleasure shoot down my spine. Wade’s hands slipped from me in this new angle.

“Feel so good,” I sighed, nails pricking into his skin. Logan showed no reaction of pain, his whole focus on me. He pressed against my clit, the pressure just firm enough that my toes curled. “Logan,” I mumbled and reached for his free hand. He gave it willingly and I immediately shoved it up my shirt so he could take over where Wade had stopped. He played with my nipple like he did my clit, long, firm strokes across the sensitive nerves. “Oh god,” I gasped, pleasure pooling deep in my stomach. My hips became more desperate as I chased after the orgasm just out of reach.

“Aw, Lo,” Wade cooed, faux sympathy dripping from his words. “You’re so hard, do you want some help?” Logan’s hips jerked under me, his fingers spearing deeper, hand briefly clenching around my breasts. I let out a strangled moan at the stretch and rocked my hips quicker.

“Leave it alone,” Logan hissed, eyes finally darting from my face to glare at Wade over my shoulder. “Don’t need anything but her. I’m taking good care of you, aren’t I baby?” I nodded furiously. I could feel that tension growing in my stomach, that heady rush of heat just within arms reach. “You’re close.” It wasn’t a question and I was too focused on my oncoming orgasm to answer. “You’re so wet for me sweetheart, probably taste like heaven.”

”Oh she does,” Wade agrees, kissing the nape of my neck. Everything, their words, the rough scrape of Logan’s hands on my most tender areas, the knowledge that Wade is watching, kicked me over the edge. My body went rigid for a moment, a moan caught in my chest, before I ground against Logan with renewed desperation.

“Fuck, Logan,” I panted. My nails were dug deep into his skin, the warmth of his blood soaking into my fingertips.

“There you go princess, I got you.” His fingers were pumping into me, fucking me hard through my orgasm. It was exactly what I needed.

“Logan!” My blurry eyes opened to see him gazing up at me. I was too far into the waves of my orgasms to find his expression, but I smiled down at him all the same. He made a little noise, halfway between a grunt and a moan.

Soon the pleasure faded and my hips slowed. My breath was uneven. For a moment, that was the only sound in the room. Then Logan’s hand snaked up from my breast to cup the side of my neck. The neckline of the shirt stretched to accommodate his thick forearm. “Alright?” I hummed, little aftershocks rippling through me, my hips jerking over him. Once I stilled fully, his fingers left from me. I whimpered at the loss. He slipped his sticky fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling closed at the taste.

“Come on baby muffin,” Wade breathed against my neck, licking a drip of sweat off the skin. “Let’s put on a show for him, yeah?”

“Okay,” I sighed, “just one second.” I leaned closer to Logan, tongue flashing out to lick at the fingers still in his mouth. “Gimme a kiss,” I weakly demanded. He obeyed, removing the digits and dragging my face closer by my chin. His tongue delved into my mouth, the tang of me thick on it. I drew back with a faint smile before I nipped his bottom lip.

“Let’s go, I’m not known for my patience,” Wade playfully growled, giving my ass a light spank. I giggled, rolling off Logan’s torso, the bed squeaking a little under me. Wade’s hands slid between my legs and spread my thighs apart. He hooked his fingers through my panties and inched them down my legs. I blushed as I felt the fabric cling to my wet pussy before it slipped away. “There you go, you nasty old man.” Wade tossed the bundle of wet fabric at Logan’s face again. The older man made an annoyed sound, throwing the sticky panties near my laundry hamper.

“I don’t need it.”

“You didn’t say that with the last pair,” Wade teased, my borrowed shirt climbing up my stomach. “You know,” he said, voice low like he was letting me in on a huge secret, “that last pair I grabbed was ruined. You wanna know how?”

“Wade,” there was a hint of embarrassment in Logan’s voice. But I nodded eagerly, lifting my arms to let Wade slip the shirt off me, biting back a small giggle when he tickled across my ribs.

“He made me come in them and then let me fuck him while they were shoved in his mouth.” Heat burned down my neck. “I can’t even see you, but I know you’re all turned on and pink.” Wade backed off the bed, shimming his pants down his narrow hips. I propped myself up on my elbows and squinted in the darkness, trying to take his naked body in. The shadows played across the ridges of his stomach, the V of his waist, and unfortunately lingered between his legs, completely obscuring what I actually wanted to see. “You look cute when you pout like that.” Wade clambered back over me, settling between my thighs, hands braced on either side of my head. His cock was heavy and warm as it rested on my stomach. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

“I can take a guess,” I mumbled, arching my neck to brush my lips against his. A bead of warm liquid dribbled onto my stomach. “Why don’t you fix that?” He kissed me back, light pecks and lashes of his tongue on my lips.

“As you command, my love.” My heart stuttered at the casual way he said the word. Wade leaned back on his knees, his fist pumping over his length. Just as he was lining himself up, my stomach tight in anticipation, Logan’s hand wrapped around Wade’s cock, stilling him. “You can wait your turn, peanut.”

“Shut up you idiot.” Logan’s forearm flexed and Wade’s hips jerked with a strangled noise of pain. “Sweetheart, do you have condoms?”

“No, but you guys can’t give me anything can you?” Logan shifted closer, his face becoming clearer in the dim light, there was a pinch of concern on it.

“No, but we can get you pregnant all the same.” Logan’s nose twitched, clearly smelling that I got even wetter at the idea. “Fuck,” his voice was gruff, forehead falling to my bare shoulder.

“Stop smelling me,” I hissed. “Anyways, I’m on birth control. Now let Wade fuck me.” Logan sighed and let Wade go. He took his cock in his hand, sliding it through my folds, rubbing my slick into his skin.

“Ooh,” Wade teased, tapping my clit with each roll of his hips. “Remind me to get on your bad side. I like how you sound angry. Much better than big boy over there.” Wade notched himself at my entrance, pausing for a beat, then pushed into me. I moaned, back arching. He was so warm and twitching already. “Shit baby,” he mumbled, his focus solely on where he disappeared into me. He took his time, giving me an inch, before withdrawing, then working another in.

It was absolutely maddening.

“Wade,” I whined, the slow drag of his cock through my sensitive walls making my head spin. It seemed like he was never ending. I wanted him deeper and I tried to force it, but his grip was iron tight on my hips, completely freezing me.

“Let me savor this, yeah? I only get this for the first time once.” His hips pressed flush to mine, all of him buried deep. He lifted my waist, the change in angle made my stomach clench, as he worked even deeper.

“Fuck,” the word trembled as my eyes rolled back. The bed next to me creaked, then Logan’s lips were on my neck. He only left a few bites before he was trailing down my chest, tongue tracing along the hollow of my throat, the line of my collar bones. His beard scraped against my flushed skin as he moved.

“I see what you mean,” Wade sighs, “she flutters so much when you kiss her neck.” He pulled out, just the tip lingering, before he surged forward. It wasn’t rough, but it made my breathing hiccup, ankles locking around him, heels digging into his ass. Logan’s tongue traced down my breast before circling a firm nipple. My hands locked into his hair, keeping him close. Wade continued his slow, torturous, push and pull. He was long enough that at this angle, he was able to rub against my sweet spot on each stroke.

“Faster,” I pleaded, tightening my legs around him. This pace was only making me feel feverish, more desperate. I needed an edge, that bite of roughness, especially now. The nightmare was long forgotten but I could feel the lingering emotions in the back of my mind.

“Being so gentle,” Logan hummed against me, the hot air dancing over my wet nipple. I bit my lip at the feeling. “I would have thought you’d be fucking her like a rabbit.” When Wade didn’t respond, Logan titled his head to face him. “You really going to come already?”

“You’re going to be the exact same way,” Wade huffed, shoving Logan’s face against my breast a little too aggressively. “You’re probably going to cry when you have her wrapped around your ancient dick.” Logan growled, sitting up straight, uncaring that I ripped several of his hairs out. He gripped Wade’s face, silver claws breaking his skin and glinting in the dim light.

“Fuck her like she wants, or I’m going to.” Wade smirked. His face tilted, the edges catching on Logan’s claws, blood trickling down his bumpy skin. Shock mingled with the pleasure simmering in me. Wade had stalled in his movements so I was forced to wiggle my hips the best I could, giving myself a little friction.

“Look at her Lo,” Wade nodded down at me, like there was anyone else her could be. “She likes it when you're rough with me. I knew you were lying about not wanting knives to be involved.” Wade seemed to enjoy watching me struggle. I reached up, Logan’s claws glancing across the back of skin, and bent Wade’s body in half, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss, arms latching tight around his neck. I bit at his lip hard enough to break the skin, hot liquid dripping into my mouth. Wade grunted in shock, his hips jerking roughly into me.

“You said you fucked harder with them involved,” I murmured between kisses. “Prove it.” Wade’s arms curled around my waist, clutching me close, plunging deep on a harsh thrust. I groaned, eyes fluttering, the angle making my thighs tremble.

“Knew you had a mean streak in you.” His hips snapped into me finally giving me that needed roughness. I continued my sloppy kissing, nipping and sucking on his rapidly healing lips. His blunt nails dug into the soft skin of my hips as he gripped tighter. Another pair of calloused hands traced up my thigh, feather light as they moved up my skin. Wade trailed his lips along my cheek and jaw. Fingers pinched my chin and dragged my face to Logan’s. He littered my face with light pecks as Wade went to my neck.

“Is he finally making you feel good? Took him long enough, huh?”

“Do you,” my voice broke as Logan slipped his hand between Wade and I’s bodies, rolling his fingers over my clit. “Do you have to antagonize each other all the time?”

“Yes,” they said in unison. Logan’s mouth went to my neck again, his teeth sinking into the curve of my neck, nearly hard enough to break skin. My hand went back to his slightly sweat-dampened hair while the other laid across Wade’s flexing shoulders. With both of their mouth’s occupied, the only thing filling the room was the wet sound of Wade pounding into me and my ragged gasps.That familiar swirl of heat was growing in me. My head felt light, overwhelmed by all the sensations.

Wade’s forehead pressed between my breasts, his own uneven breath coasting across my sweaty skin. “Fuck,” he mumbled. His pace was losing its consistency but none of its harshness. Logan’s fingers on my clit picked up in speed, the scrape of his callouses extra intense on my tender skin. I whined, my body shuddering as pleasure shot through me. Logan’s mouth slanted against mine and swallowed down all my noises. It wasn’t quite a kiss, I was quickly growing out of breath to linger too long, but Logan didn’t mind.

Wade was adjusting my position in tiny ways, a slight tilt to the right, a little lift, a small drop. I figured it was just a coincidence until he hit that perfect spot inside me that would have made my eyes cross if they weren’t already closed. I let out a strangled wail of Wade’s name, nails ripping into his shoulder. “There we go,” he panted.

It only took four more strokes.

“Wade, I- I’m gonna,” I barely got the words out before the hot coil inside me snapped. Just like Logan’s fingers before, Wade fucked me through my orgasm, groaning at the tight squeeze. Logan slowed over my clit, knowing that overstimulation was creeping up.

“In or out?” Wade’s voice was clipped, hips finally losing all sense of rhythm, just becoming uneven jerks. It was hard for him to even move with the vice grip my legs had around him.

“In, ah Wade, in please!” He made a choked noise, somewhere between a moan and whine, as he pushed in as far as he could with a shudder. Warmth spread through me as he came with a long groan. “Fuck,” I mumbled, my hips still trembling from the aftershocks.

Our bodies slowed, all the shakiness easing out of us. Wade kept me close even when my legs fell from his hips. He laid his cheek against my sternum, body growing heavier over me as he relaxed. I gave his head a weak kiss just as another pair of lips found my cheek. “You okay baby?” I smiled at Logan, feeling just a little giddy.

“Yeah.” Logan smirked back and I blinked sleepily at him. Wade was softening inside me and drips of cum traced down my skin to the bed. I winced at the stickiness.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Logan said, already moving to get off the bed, legs on the floor. My arm stretched to grab his fingers.

“It’s your turn.” I couldn’t see his face too well, but I saw his head tilt in question. I chuckled. “Wade, get off me now.” He groaned, sucking a hickey right on my chest before rolling next to me. I moved to my hands and knees, crawling across the mattress to be face to face with Logan. I heard his breath stutter. “Cleaning up can wait can’t it?” My hand slid between his legs, gripping his cock through his boxers. “How do you want me?” I felt him throb in my grip.

“Jesus,” he huffed. I littered his neck in licking kisses while I awaited his response. “Go sit on Wade’s face.” Now it was my turn to look at him confused. He smirked, a flash of a pointed tooth catching in the street light outside. “Don’t you trust me princess?” Reluctantly, I released him, turning on my knees to inch across to Wade. I made sure to shimmy my ass for Logan as I moved.

“Oh dessert.” I had barely swung my leg over Wade’s face before he pulled me down by my hips. His tongue parted my folds, flicking aggressively at my tender clit before sliding back and licking his cum from me. I shuddered, hands gripping his head. The bed shifted and I felt Logan’s palm slide up my spine before cupping my neck gently and guiding my torso to be flat to the bed. I braced myself on my elbows, adjusting my hips, the new angle only allowing Wade to continue his torture on my clit. Calloused hands spread me farther open. Logan lapped away all the cum that had leaked down my thighs. I whimpered, fingers knotting the bed sheets. But the sound grew in volume and pitch as Logan joined Wade, tongues tangling briefly, before he speared into my leaking pussy. Wade laughed as I shook above him. His hot breath fanned across my wet skin and I had to bite my lip to stop from wailing.

“How do we taste?” I had no idea who Wade was even speaking as he was practically smothered under me. Logan groaned, nuzzling his face deeper into me, his grip tight enough to leave bruises on my ass. His tongue curled, licking every inch of my clenching channel. The scratch of his beard was like little pinpricks of pain but it only made me push my hips against him harder. The sounds I was making were downright pathetic. Just when I didn’t think I could take anymore, he reared back, breath uneven. I glanced over my shoulder to find his eyes glued to where Wade was pinned. When he looked almost content to just watch, I shimmed my hips, grinding harder on Wade’s face. The man under me eagerly sucked my clit into his mouth and I sobbed at the feeling.

“Shit,” he huffed, “you two are gonna kill me.” There was more adjusting and then I felt the blunt head of Logan’s cock at my entrance. Wade released my clit, opting to just rub his nose against it. It was enough friction to keep me satisfied, but not enough to make me come too quickly. “Beg for it.”

“Aw you’re being so mean!”

But I was all too eager. “Please fuck me Logan, please! Been thinking about it so long! I promise I’ll make you feel so goo-ah!” With one long stroke, Logan was buried to the hilt. Despite how wet I was and the extra slick of Wade’s cum, there was still the barest hint of pressure as he stretched me. “Oh god,” I whimpered. Logan’s rough hands grasped my hips, giving an experimental roll. “Logan.” He shushed me, drawing his cock nearly out before plunging back into me. The force punched a moan out of me. “Like that,” I pleaded.

“I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” he hummed. His pace was languid, but rough. He used my waist as leverage to drag me closer for each thrust. With each pull, I was forced to grind myself against Wade’s face, who stuck his tongue out so I couldn’t escape the pleasure. I was so wound up, so close to the edge after two orgasams, that I could only take a handful of his harsh strokes before I was coming again. I buried my face in the sheets, shuddering whines falling from my lips. “Shit,” Logan groaned. Wade made a muffled noise as my juices dripped into his mouth. His own hands joined Logan’s, clutching me close. I could feel Logan’s thighs trembling where they were pressed against mine.

I hadn’t fully finished my orgasm before Logan was moving in me again. He was far less restrained now, fucking into me with quicker thrusts. My toes curled. “Logan,” I sobbed. Despite the overstimulation growing in me, I arched my back, forcing Logan deeper.

“Feel so good, I can’t handle it,” Logan grunted. He bent over me, messily kissing at my spine and shoulder blades. “Too much?” His voice was quiet as it tickled along my neck.

“No!” I cried, bouncing against him as best I could with both of them holding me. Wade chuckled and the vibrations made me nearly rip the sheets in my grip. “More!” Logan huffed a laugh, kissing the back of my neck, before his hand replaced it, pinning me to the bed. The pressure was enough that I knew not to move, but light enough that I could slip out from it if I needed to.

Logan fucked into me like a man possessed, hips rutting into me with reckless abandoned. I had no doubt there would be faint bruises on my ass from him. But that pinch of pain only drove me higher. I felt drunk on all the sensations. Logan rubbing against my tender walls. Wade’s tongue as it rolled between my folds, tracing my entrance. The ache in my hips from being spread so long. My moans of their names grew more slurred before it just became whimpers. Tears stung my eyes and I let them fall freely.

“Goddamnit,” Logan growled, his hand briefly flexing around the back of my neck. He was panting, if only a little, and I took it as a compliment. His hips moved quicker, the slap of his skin against mine echoing around the room. Wade’s tongue stopped wandering and honed back onto my clit, making tight circles around it.

“Wade!” I cried out, body jolting. Logan’s hand suddenly went to my shoulder, jerking me up straight, my back flush to his chest. He banded an arm across my chest to pin me close while he drove into me. His lips found his previous bite mark and sunk his teeth into it. The feeling of my skin breaking was a dull burn, soothed by Wade between my legs. Heat burst through me, an orgasm that nearly knocked the wind from me. My hand went to Logan’s hair, fingers twisted deep into the strands, and held him close, weak sobs of euphoria escaping me. His other arm curled around my hips before he shoved himself as deep as he could with a little snarl into the skin clutched between his teeth. I could feel every twitch as he came, filling me to the brim. I shook in his embrace. If not for his iron grip, I would have fallen flat on my face on the bed.

The first thing to move was Logan’s teeth from my neck. “Fuck.” His worry was clear as he licked the dripping blood away. “I, I-shit, I didn’t mean to, I just got so caught up in you.” My weak hand slid from his hair, caressing his jaw.

“S’okay,” I slurred. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to me. ”Felt good.”

“You really can’t help but bite any piece of meat you see huh?” Wade’s tongue swept between my folds again, lapping up Logan’s cum as it leaked from me. Logan growled. I felt Wade’s fingers brush against me, curling around Logan’s softening cock before tugging it out. I whined as he obnoxiously slurped the mixture of cum from me.

“Stop it,” Logan growled. “Make yourself useful and grab a towel.” With lots of adjusting, Wade was able to wiggle out from under us. But he didn’t go to the bathroom, instead he cupped the back of Logan’s head, meeting him in a kiss. Logan groaned.

“Taste good right?” Wade leaned back, grinning, before licking Logan’s face from chin to nose.

“How about you go grab a towel before I put my claws through your chest, yeah?” If anything, Wade’s smile grew wider, more wild.

“Okay, okay. How about I get a towel to clean our precious girl up and then we can have some fun while she recovers?” Logan sighs.

“Fine,” he grumbled. Wade shimmied in excitement, giving me a wet peck on the cheek, before disappearing out of the bedroom. My heavy head fell back on Logan’s shoulder. “Do you feel better now?” I gave a weak laugh and nuzzled my face against his cheek.

“I can get used to this.” Logan hummed.

“Me too sweetheart, me too.”

162 notes · View notes

homestylehughes · 1 day

Text

bed chem.

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): fluff. mutual pinning. very slight slow burn. suggestive content. 18+.

wc: 1.5K

an: hi lovesss!!!! I present you with a new fic, finally. this song is loosely based off of "bed chem" by sabrina carpenter, and the one and only quinn hughes. this is one of my favorites, I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy, like and reblog if you did :)

as always, much much love <3

He caught your attention in a room full of people, your eyes stuck to him like glue. Your eyes followed his every movement, watching him wordlessly from across the busy club. Watching how he interacted with the people around him, how his lips broke into a smile as he laughed at something someone said to him.

He, whoever he was, was beautiful. From his hair, eyes, smile, everything. Not to mention how his white fitted shirt looked on him. The fit was so perfect, it almost looked like it was painted on him. You felt like a creep looking at him, but you couldn't help it. There was just something about him that was almost addictive? Something bad, but yet so so good.

“Are you done staring at him like a creep, or are you gonna go over and say something?” your friend says besides you, snapping you out of daydream

“I wasn't looking..just observing” you say, clearing your throat, before taking a drink of the watered down cocktail in front of you in hopes to avert your gaze from the Greek god of a man in front of you.

“Well..he and his friends just looked over here and pointed.” she giggles from besides you

“Shit. Are you joking? Youve got to be joking right?” you whisper-yell to her in a state of panic

“Nope,” she says, popping the p.

“Oh god, yn they're coming over here now.” she says frantically

“Oh my god” you say, moving to sit up straighter in your seat. Your eyes move to follow the very attractive man and his friends make their way over to you guys.

“Shit he is hot, and so are his friends.” your friend gushes out besides you

“Shut it, act normal, talk to me about something.” you say quickly, your eyes flickering to the men who are moving in closer.

Your friend starts talking to you about something random, but you can't concentrate on her words. Your mind is locked in the man approaching, that you can't gather another thought about anything else, as you watch them in the corner of your eye. Just as they are about to reach the table, another large group of men cuts in front of them. Wrapping each of the men into hugs, yelling and smiling as they interact, with what you assume are their friends.

“Youve got to be kidding me” she says, stopping mid sentence of her empty word ramble.

“ well..thats, that i guess” you sign out, looking as the men pull each other to the bar in the opposite direction.

“Guy in the white shirt is looking at you, look up look up.” she says slapping your arm

Quickly reacting, pulling your head up. Your eyes find him quickly, as he looks back at you. Sending you a quick wink and smirk before he turns around following his friends.

“Oh my gosh. Yn he so wants you”

“I don't even know if i'll see him again”

“Never say never.”

You giggle at her opsitism, before throwing the rest of your drink back, hopping out of your seat, moving to grabher hands pulling her towards the dance floor.

“Come on! We came to have fun, right?” you shout at her, as you two giggle walking hand in hand to the dance floor.

–

After lots of fun, maybe too much fun and a few more drinks later. You finally make your way back to your hotel. You come back solo you might add, your friend being pulled away by a hot mysterious man who caught her attention. Leading her to follow him out of the club with a wide smile on her face.

Sighing deeply as you stare at your shoes waiting for the elevator door to open, a few moments later a loud ding signals in the opening. Heading in quickly, and hitting your floor. Leaning your exposed back against the cool elevator door, the only thing on your mind is taking off your shoes, and washing a somewhat disappointing night out away.

Just as the elevator is about to close, you hear a man shouting to hold the door. Pushing yourself off the wall to hit the open button. The out of breath man quickly moves in, as you look up to ask him what floor he needs, you're face to face with, hot fitted white shirt man, who's staring at you with widened eyes.

“What floor do you need?” you ask quietly, struggling to find your words.

“Um, 69 please, oh wait you've already pressed that.” The man finally speaks to you, his deep voice filling the now closed elevator.

“You're the girl from the club tonight.” he says looking over at you from across the elevator.

“And you're the guy” you say

“Felt you looking at me, the whole night” he says, his words causing a blush to rise to your cheeks as you look back down at your shoes.

“Don't be embarrassed, i was looking too.” he continues

“I saw” you spoke

“Almost had you too” he says

“Almost..” you repeat to him softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and eyes.

“Well we’re here now” he replies

“You have 9 floors to make something happen..” you trail off

“Quinn. My names quinn” he says

“Yn. my names yn”

“Well yn i only need 2 floors to make this happen” quinn says, quickly making his way over to you. One of his hands meeting your hip as the other holding your face, pulling you into him, your lips connecting as one.

The motion happens so quickly you barely have time to register what your body is doing until you're kissing him back quickly. Your hands tangle themselves into his hair as you pull yourself into his body.

You two are so wrapped up into each other that you don't even realize the elevator has stopped, the door opening slowly.

Quinn pulls back, his lips swollen as he looks down at you. “How was that for something yn?” he says, dropping his gaze down to you.

“I think i might need you to show me a bit more” you whisper

“Oh really?” he says as he slowly pulls you out of the elevator.

“Mhm” you mumble to him

“Lead the way” he says, dropping his hand from you, waiting on your next move.

You take a second to take him in natural light. Everything about him is intoxicating, you need more. No matter the cost, or how bad of an idea it could be. You don't care, not right now. Before you can give it a second thought, you're pulling him by his hand by your room. Your steps are quick, your body hot with need.

Reaching your room quickly, dropping Quinn's hand, as you start searching for your key card, you feel Quinn's hot body against yours. His lips finding your neck and his hands back on your hips as he pulls you back against him. Your movements began to halter as he began to get lost in his touch.

“Quinn..you have to get off me for 30 seconds so i can open the door”

“Mhm. I know, but I'm getting impatient. I've wanted you all night.” he says against your neck, his warm breath sending chills down your body.

“You wanna know what i've thought about and what i'm thinking about right now? Hm?” he asks

“Yes, yes tell me” you gasp out, your hands trying to move quickly, still in search of the key.

“How the dress would look on the floor, how your body would look against mine. How youd look all fucked out for me in my bed” he says, his lips tight to your ear.

Just as he finishes his sentence, your hands grasp the key card in your purse. Pulling it out quickly, and tapping it against the door aggressively, pushing the door open as soon as it buzzes open.

Quinn moves quickly, pushing you in slamming the door, and before you know it his lips are against yours as if they never left. You're quick to turn him around, your hands moving against the buttons on his shirt as he hits the bed, pulling you on top of him; your lips never once leaving each other.

“You're dangerous” quinn says pulling away from your lips

“Why's that?” you ask, your hands still working to unbutton his shirt.

“I've barely had any of you, and i dont think ill ever get enough” he says looking at you

“Who said you ever have to stop, we’re just getting started” you say while unbuttoning the last button on his shirt before pushing it off his shoulders.

Quinn responds with a look and a small smirk and you know what that means.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #qh43 #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #vancover canucks #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fic

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yelenasdiary · 2 days

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Hey, i'm the same one with the idea.

So i was thinking, the Marvel universe.

Wanda had the boys, but they are Vision's kids. Yn is their bestfriend(Wanda and Nat) and played like cupid, you know, they were a couple thanks to her.

So well, I was thinking something about being reincarnated, i don't truly believe in it but in a history i like that type of things.

Wanda was pregnant again, with a baby girl, and in the time Wanda was suppose to gave birth, Yn was in a mission but it went wrong, she got shot and even if they try to "fix" everything, they couldn't and she died.

In the moment, the doctors were trying to do their things, Wanda has the labor contractions and finally gave birth.

So the thing is, the "soul" of Yn went to the baby, or something like that.(I don't know how to say those things, i try my best to write in english hahaha)

And Wanda and Nat found about it and named the baby after Yn.

While the little Yn was growing up, they saw how many things she did in the same way as Yn, and of course they talked about her with the little one.

And basically, you can change everything you want and need to write the story, if you want to write it, of course. Thank you. Have a good day, or night.

Watching Over You

Pairing: WandaNat x Fem! Avenger! Reader (Platonic), Mentions of Wanda x Vision.

Summary: Somethings in this world are unexplainable but what if that one thing helped bring two people together to start a new life

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Character Death, Mentions of guns, and Child Birth | 1.5K

Translations: Detka (baby),

AC: I love this idea, it’s something different! I hope you enjoy this, I do apologise if this isn’t as exciting as you hoped. Thank you for sending it! x

The blue sky started to look dim, your body turning cold as Clint and Steve rushed you to the quinjet. Steve carrying you bridal style while Clint cleared the path, the soldier laid you down on one of the uncomfortable beds and strapped you down tightly. “It’ll be okay! We’ll get you home” you heard Steve’s faint voice before things went black. Clint wasting no time starting up the jet to rush you home to medical.

Meanwhile, your best friends were preparing for the next chapter in their lives. You could say you were cupid in Wanda and Natasha’s love story. After Wanda and Vision got divorced, Wanda struggled to get out of the loveless slump she was in. You did everything you could think of to help her get over Vision, but it was hard when her two eldest children were fathered by him. But with some time and patience, Wanda opened herself up to dating again. Did she expect her next marriage to be with a woman? No, but she was so thankful that you helped her see just how much Natasha loved and cared for the mother of two.

It wasn’t exactly easy for Nat either. Her feelings for Wanda started well before the brunette got divorced and watching Wanda have a little family with somebody else pushed Natasha’s hopes for a family of her own further and further to the back of her mind. But now? Now Natasha and Wanda were hours away from welcoming their first child together.

Without you and setting up a cheeky few blind dates and listening for hours on end to your friends feelings for one another, you weren’t sure what the two would be doing now. But it’s been 2 years since they got married and a lot of happy tears on the way.

“Something isn’t right!” Wanda said in a panic, “Nat, something isn’t right, I can feel it!” She added, rubbing her hand over her swollen stomach. Wanda’s water broke a couple of hours ago, but she wasn’t dilated enough to be taken to the delivery room. Natasha comforted her wife by taking her hand, “have some ice chips detka, everything is okay, I promise” she replied before offering Wanda a cup of ice chips. Wanda saw that Natasha didn’t quite understand her wife’s worries, she slowly shook her head, “it’s not the baby, something just doesn’t feel right” Wanda said, her eyes building with tears.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” Natasha asked. Wanda shook her head, “please don’t leave me” Wanda replied, looking up at Natasha. Although Wanda’s current state of mind was confusing Nat a little, she sat down beside Wanda’s bed and quickly changed the topic to keep her wife distracted.

“So, do you think is going to get jealous first? Tommy or Billy?” She joked, causing Wanda to playful slap her hand away from her.

----

What seemed like forever had passed, Wanda was only seconds away from giving birth. Natasha by her side holding her hand has her wife almost broke her knuckles in pain and while the delivery room was full of excitement and happiness, another room was full of the exact opposite.

Tony, Steve, Clint, Maria, Thor, Bucky and Pepper sat around the large table in one of the many conference rooms. Nothing but silence was shared, tissues in the center of the table that mainly Maria and Pepper reached for, the guys looking at one another, all wondering how to process the news.

“We have to tell them” Steve broke the silence.

“Last update I had was Wanda was taken into the delivery room. Nat said she’d keep me posted but I don’t think we tell them yet” Clint replied.

“We can’t not tell them; they’re going to know. Especially Wanda” Maria chipped in, whipping her tears on a tissue.

“How about we just deal with it when need too, right now, we should probably go to the hospital and be there for them” Pepper suggested, “nothing we do is going to change anything” she added. Tony nodded in agreement, “if anything, we tell Nat first. We shouldn’t tell Wanda right now” he inserted.

The small team came to an agreement, it wasn’t easy, and they wished things were different, that they would have better news but the best thing they could all do right now was to be there for each other.

Steve knocked softly on Wanda’s door in the hospital before slowly opening it, everybody had a soft smile on their faces and even through the news they had to keep to themselves for now, the excitement of meeting a new little family member helped make things feel a little better.

“Hey guys!” Wanda smiled softly at her extended family. Natasha was gently rocking their new-born daughter in her arms as the others entered the room. Clint stepped close to Natasha, looking down at his friend’s little baby. “She’s beautiful” he whispered softly.

“Do you want to hold her?” Nat offered with a sense of proudness in her voice, Clint nodded, “I’d love too” he added.

“Hey, where’s Y/n?” Wanda asked, looking at everybody. Thor’s eyes dropped immediately to his feet which only made Wanda tilt her head slightly to the side, “Nat, uh, there’s something I need to run by you, do you mind if we step outside for a moment?” Steve quickly said before Wanda could question anything. Wanda watched as Steve and Natasha left the room, the others quickly turning the attention back to the baby in Clint’s arms.

“Does she have a name yet?” Maria asked.

“We have a couple of ideas, but nothing seems to feel right at the moment” Wanda said, smiling tiredly at her.

“Steve, what is it?” Natasha asked, a sparkle in her eye that Steve hated to break. “We thought it would be best to tell you first” he started.

“Tell me what?” Natasha frowned slightly, trying to read Steve for an answer.

“Y/n is gone. There was a situation on the mission, and she was shot, she never made it off the table Nat”

Natasha was in disbelief as she cocked a brow at her friend, “you know this is a really shitty time to play a joke like that. She’s never miss this”

Steve stood in silence, allowing the news to sink in until it did, and Natasha’s eyes filled with tears. “When did Helen call time of death?” Natasha asked. “6:42pm” Steve answered, unaware that the little fact would cause Nat to break completely. He caught her in his arms, comforting her until she was able to gather herself once more. “I t-think you guys should go” she looked up at him, “I need to tell Wanda”

“I understand” Steve replied before the two of them entered the room once again. “Alright guys, I know it’s exciting, but I think we should let Wanda get some rest and our little darling will need a feed soon” Natasha announced, any excuse to kindly ask them to leave. They understood the moment they looked at Steve, they all gave Wanda a hug before the room was just the three of them.

----

It took a few long days for Wanda to process the news, every time she looked at her new baby, all she felt was happiness but in the short moments she was able to look into her daughter’s eyes, all she saw was you and that was the thing that troubled her a little. Not everybody believed in reincarnation, Wanda wasn’t sure she believed in it much herself but when it came to finalizing the birth certificate, it was time to give the new-born a name.

“That can’t be right” Wanda frowned, the blue ballpoint pen hovering over the birth certificate.

“What’s not right detka?” Natasha asked, placing her hand on Wanda’s knee under the dining room table. “Pumpkin’s time of birth, it has to be a mistake” she replied. Pumpkin being the nickname they gave their daughter until they were able to settle on a final name.

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice that” Nat replied, watching as Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped the pen from her hold and ran her fingers through her hair, “our best friend died the exact same time our daughter was born” she looked to Nat, “call me crazy but this can’t be a coincidence. Every time I look into Pumpkin’s eyes, all I see is Y/n. Even her cheeky little smile makes me feel like Y/n is here” Wanda went on.

Natasha didn’t think her wife was crazy, not for a second. “Me too” the red head admitted, bringing her hand to cup Wanda’s cheek, wiping her tears. “I know we’re stuck on a name but I can’t help but want to name her after Y/n” she added. Wanda smiled softly through her tears, “I wanted to suggest that. I would love to name her after Y/n, I think it’s a great idea”

As time went on, little Y/n grew up knowing more and more about the Avenger she was named after, she leant about how you helped her mother’s get together, she learnt all about your favorite hobbies, likes and dislikes. There was plenty of little things that mini-Romanoff did that made everybody around her think of you, from her cheeky smile to her stubbornness and even her mischief behavior when playing with her brothers, she might be half Wanda and half Natasha but she was in many ways, a part of you.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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jeankluv · 2 days

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The tale of the fox and the knight - Satoru Gojo | prologue

summary: You have been living all your life in almost isolation due to your true nature, one your parents want to hide and protect you from anyone finding it. But when the spring of your 20 year your parents grant you the wish of being able to walk around the city, you meet him. Your doom. Satoru Gojo, a white haired knight whose intentions in your eyes are unkown. And whose presence in your life will change everything, from how you see the world to your way of being.

tags: enemies to lovers, blood, eventual smut, Gojo is pretty rude at the beginning, betrayal, fantasy, magical creatures, angst, injuries, heavy language

notes: this is the prologue of an upcoming series I have in mind, but I’m not sure if I should continue or not. And since I don’t have chapter for this weekend I decided to share it with everyone. So pls give me your honest feedback with this new story of mine

materialist | ch. 01

jujutsu kaisen materialist

“So you know your mission.” The king said.

The white-haired young man smiled proudly. “Of course his majesty.” He bowed. “Kidnap the princess and bring her here in one piece. Still don’t understand why you need a useless princess, does your wife not…”

“Satoru Gojo, do not push your luck. I like you but that doesn't mean I'm not afraid to cut out that tongue of yours.”

He rolled his eyes, not giving importance to the king’s words. “I will depart tomorrow morning.” He said and with a final bow he left the throne room.

Satoru Gojo, he was an orphan, he lost his whole family when he was 8. His family used to be a Nobel and prestigious family due to their abilities, they were well respected by everyone in the kingdom, until that tragic night where everyone was killed, everyone except for the 8 years old boy.

The boy only remembered one thing and it was a flag. The flag from their enemies, the Zerua kingdom.

After finding out about the terrible incident, the king took the young boy with him and raised him as one of his new knights, they couldn’t lose his powerful abilities. So the years started to pass and the boy’s hatred towards that kingdom only grew bigger, his heart was full of rage and he only wanted the royal family to suffer.

Now as a skilled knight, he was going on a mission to kidnap the princess of Zerua. Satoru didn’t quite understand why his king wanted her, apparently she was a helpless princess, rumors said that even a butterfly was stronger than the princess of Zerua, so for Satoru the mission was pathetic, he didn’t understand why he had to bring her to their kingdom, surely she would passed out before reaching the limits of their kingdom.

But that’s not something that Satoru Gojo cared about, in fact, if she died, he would be more than happy to drop her lifeless body in front of the king. But apparently that could not be it and she needed to arrive at the castle in one piece.

The white-haired man walked through the extensive hallways, feeling how the paintings of ancient monarchs pursued him with their gaze, as if they wanted to know every movement and every action that the young man was going to choose.

He went out to the patio and was finally able to breathe the fresh air, with the footsteps of his boots echoing on his way to the barracks where the rest of the knights were.

The eyes of the vast majority of his companions rested on him, Satoru knew that it was envy that everyone there felt. They envied that he was the strongest and the king's favorite.

“So why did his majesty called you?” A deep voice talked to him.

“Why would I tell you?” Satoru smiled provocatively.

“Oh c’mon Gojo just spitted out.” The pink haired one rolled his eyes.

“Sukuna… Don't pull my tongue.” Satoru released his belt and leather vest. “The only thing I’m going to tell you is that I won’t have to see your ugly face for a while.” He grabbed his old jacket, which had a couple of holes sewn badly, and turned around.

“Where are you going?” Sukuna asked him. “You're going to say goodbye to your darling…”

“Sukuna shut your mouth or I'll cut your balls.” He looked over his shoulder at him and Sukuna laughed.

“Alright man.” He l raised his arms asking for a truce. “Enjoy your night Satoru Gojo.” He said turning and walking away as he laughed.

Satoru rolled his eyes and began to walk out of the castle, with an apple in his hands, his destination was clear and Sukuna was right with his words. He wished he could spend a night with his favorite girl. A mischievous smile appeared on his face as he thought about it, but it quickly disappeared when he remembered that he had to leave for Zerua and would therefore be away from there for quite some time.

The aroma of roses mixed with tobacco hit his nose as soon as he entered the place. The place was packed with drunks and partiers who must have had nothing better to do. But his mind eliminated all those and settled on a figure. Long blonde hair, green eyes and a slender figure, Stella. She and Satoru had begun to have intimate encounters when one night they were both alone in that place.

Theirs had never been anything more than sexual desire and that was how they both wanted it. Also, they weren’t exclusive from each other. Because they didn’t care, there was nothing else between them that sexual desire.

Satoru would never give his heart to anyone, he would never fall in love.

“Are you free tonight, beautiful?” Satoru whispered when he got near her.

“Oh Satoru!” She said surprise. “Didn’t expect you to come tonight.”

“Well here I am and…”

“Satoru, I’m sorry but tonight will be impossible.” She looked at him with sad eyes.

“What?” Satoru said with surprise.

“I’m meeting another person tonight.”

“Stella…”

“Satoru, we are nothing so you cannot say anything.” She said.

“Yeah I know… I just… I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Leaving?” Stella looked at him confused.

“The king wants me to go on a mission and I will be leaving.” He explained. “I will probably be out for months, don’t know how long.”

Stella smiled with a curiosity reflecting her eyes. “And where are you going?”

Satoru shook his head and took the beer Stella was offering him. “Can’t tell you.”

“Oh…” She pouted. “That’s a shame. Maybe someone finally steals your heart.” She mocked Satoru, knowing he didn’t like that idea.

Satoru made a disgusted face and put the beer aside. "I'd rather be taken prisoner by an orc and kept in his swamp for years, than fall in love with someone from Zerua." Stella smiled widely when Satoru said the name of her mission destination. “You are clever.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say?” She laughed as Satoru rolled his eyes. “So Zerua… that’s quite interesting.”

“The king ordered but I hate the idea, those people…”

“Oh c’mon sad boy, I’m sure it will be fine.” Stella said.

“Whatever.” He stood up, giving one last drink to the beer. “Wanted to have a goodbye night but… doesn’t matter.” Satoru turned around.

“I hope the stars guide you and you are able to return safely, Satoru Gojo.” He heard Stella saying.

Satoru moved his hand saying goodbye to her and he stepped outside the old bar, looking how the sky was already dark.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The sunbeam hit you right in the eyes, causing you to turn around trying to continue sleeping. But your peace did not last long when the door to your bedroom opened wide, letting your maids enter.

The voice of the one you consider your best friend echoes through the room. “Princess, it's time for you to get up.”

You thrashed around in the sheets, shaking your head. “Utahime…please.” You begged.

Utahime sighed and approached your bed. “C’mon princess, spring is beginning and the flowers are blooming.”

Your eyes opened and looked at Utahime with a special glow in them. "I can leave?"

Utahime bit her lip and you immediately knew what her response would be. “You can go to your personal garden, but…”

“But there's no more of that, I already know.” You sighed in resignation.

You got out of your bed and followed the same routine as every day; bath, get dressed and then go out to your private garden.

Once your bluish dress was on and your hair was tied with a pretty white bow, which let some subtle strands fall from your forehead, you left your room. Followed of course by Utahime, she was your most faithful companion, your friend, really the only one you had ever had.

Utahime grew up in the castle, her parents had worked there and your parents had let Utahime grow up with you, you were both of the same age.

At 15 she began to work for you, but you hated that term and you hated the concept that your only friend had to be at your command. But Utahime had insisted, that she did not care, that she was fine with it, but you knew that she aspired to more and that in some way wanting to serve the royal family as a thank you for all the help they had given her and her family, was cutting her own wings.

You glanced at her briefly and bit your lip, you knew your friend too well and you knew she wasn't happy.

“Princess?” She called you out loud.

“Huh?” You looked at her. “Oh… I was just thinking.” You smiled.

“Princess, I know it bothers you that you can not leave the castle but…” Utahime began but you cut her.

“I was not thinking about that Uta… I just…” You sighed. “I know you are not happy serving me.” Utahime looked at you and then away from you. “Uta please tell me, tell me what you wish to do. I will do everything to help you.”

Utahime sighed and started playing with her hands, a sign of nervousness. “I… I wish I could… work as a designer…” Your eyes shined looking at her and with a big smile forming on your face. “But that’s not…”

“I will talk with my parents.” You stood up from the seat you were and walked towards her. “I will make sure to send you to the best school and then you will make my dresses and I will…”

“Princess please, calm down.” Utahime took your hands, trying to stop you. “It doesn’t matter, alright? I’m happy with you.”

You bite your lip. “You are not… so don’t tell me it’s okay.”

“Princess…” She sighed.

Your conversation was suddenly interrupted, as the door of your private garden opened. Making the screech echo through the room and causing your gazes to turn to see who it was. Your eyes narrowed and you felt an overwhelming urge to roll them when you saw that it was one of your parents' advisors.

“Princess…” He bowed his head when he got near you. “Their majesties want to meet you.”

“Alright…” You sighed, not really wanting to see them. “We will keep talking about it.” You looked at Utahime.

Utahime didn’t say a word, not because she didn’t want to but because she knew that responding to a member of royalty could lead to punishment. If you were alone, it wouldn't matter, you would never complain about it but Utahime knew that the others wouldn't allow it and could report it to her superiors.

And she couldn’t risk losing everything she had achieved, not when her mother needed medicine and she was the only one bringing money home. But you didn't know that and Utahime didn't want to worry you with her worldly problems either.

You looked one more time to Utahime and then left the place. You walked before the advisor. The sound of your shoes echoed throughout the hallway, nothing else could be heard in the place except for those shoes of yours. A few years ago those hallways were filled with laughter and kids playing around, now there was no sound.

Ever since your coming off age ceremony something changed, your parents started to be more strict about you, they already were when you were younger but now, you could barely meet anyone. Friends? Utahime was the only one and because she was a trusted person, but for the rest, you didn’t have any.

And you knew why was all this, but it was pointless, you couldn’t hide forever your true nature and the family secret everyone has been trying to keep away. Eventually someone would found out. And… well you were a bit terrified.

Your mother used to tell you, not very kind stories about what could happen to you if the wrong people found out. It terrified you but you didn’t want to waste your life in that castle, not meeting the world, not meeting new people.

“Their majesties, the princess is here.” One of the soldiers spoke.

You heard the faint voice of your father speaking, telling you to enter. The big door opened, giving you passage into the throne room, where your parents were seated each in their place and their advisors were on either side. But your eyes fell on a figure you had never seen before, he was tall, much taller than you, and his hair was white as a snowy day. His back was to you, as you walked towards your parents, you saw how he was standing, with a straight and composed posture, as if waiting for an order.

Your name echoed in the room and your eyes looked at your father, who was carefully touching his beard. “We have some news to give you.” Your heart rate accelerated, was that boy who was now to your left going to be your fiancé? No, you didn’t want that. “You will have a personal escort, so you can go out a little more.”

They both smiled and you looked at them stunned, processing their words. “What?” You whispered.

“That’s right, darling, your father and I talked about it and we have decided to let you go out in the kingdom, as long as you are accompanied by at least one guard.” He pointed to the boy who was at your side. “He is Satoru Gojo, he has been practicing and under surveillance for 9 months to become your guard and he has passed all the tests with flying colors.” You looked at the boy in surprise and your breath hitched when you met those blue eyes, which almost reflected your face.

“It’s my pleasure to serve you, princess.” He took your hand and kissed it.

You felt a shiver go through your body, not sure if it was because those blue eyes were penetrating you or because you felt something weird on his smirk.

“The pleasure is mine Sir. Gojo.” You made a small reverence.

“Please you can call me Satoru.” He gave you the most radiant of the smiles.

“Oh…” You broke the eye with him and looked away, to your parents to be more exact. “So… that means I will be able to go outside?” Your eyes shone brightly thinking about what it meant.

“Yes. But remember you always have to be with Gojo.” You nodded. “Good, then that’s everything. You can leave.”

“Thank you father!” You smiled brightly and turned around.

You felt the presence of the white haired man right behind you. From that moment on, he would become your shadow. But also your downfall.

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kumkaniudaku · 2 days

Text

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?"

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down."

"Why? You like grapes."

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background.

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest.

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need."

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect.

"You see how that was childish?"

"Whatever."

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying.

"Get that one."

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath.

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register."

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes.

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs.

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face.

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl.

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that.

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car."

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy."

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach.

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary.

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?"

"Same time next week."

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner.

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?"

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you."

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!"

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics.

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy."

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers.

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line.

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!"

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake.

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?"

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack.

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while."

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off."

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!"

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship.

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships."

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn.

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time.

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom.

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience."

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines.

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance."

"That'd be grand."

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron.

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious.

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?"

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV.

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space.

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave."

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt.

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities.

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket.

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge.

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!"

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way.

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe.

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game.

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault."

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed.

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience.

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them.

"Treece! Terry! We over here!"

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three.

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation.

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?"

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things."

"Contract?"

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat.

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week."

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?"

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose."

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them.

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit."

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot.

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?"

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs."

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level."

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult.

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone."

"They talk?"

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?"

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued.

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it."

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then."

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was."

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food.

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world.

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music.

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you."

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping."

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed.

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world.

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach.

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?"

"Of what?"

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road.

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again.

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure.

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body.

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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poisonlove · 2 days

Text

The Ghost of halloween p.2 | A.D

Pairing: Astrid X reader

Astrid pov's

"Is it this way?" my mother asks with a small smile on her lips.

I nod without answering, pressing my lips together and turning my head toward the window.

I didn’t want her to see how uncomfortable I felt. We had argued again, and as always, she had decided that moving was the only solution. Panicking, I had told her I had a date today.

"It's really nice here," Lydia Deetz says, looking at the neighborhood decorated for Halloween: gardens filled with decorations, skeletons hanging from trees, and people in costumes getting ready to celebrate.

When we arrive in front of the house, her eyes land on a lit window.

"Oh... it's a girl," my mother exclaims in surprise.

"Mom..." I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush.

"She's very cute," she adds with a mischievous smile, giving me a sidelong glance. I feel my face heat up even more.

"Okay, bye," I finally say, my voice tense, as I open the door.

"I’ll pick you up at 10. Have fun, sweetheart!" she calls out, her voice happier than ever. I shut the door with a loud thud, the sound of my mother’s car driving away echoing.

I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, clutching the bag full of candy and snacks. Then, with hesitant steps, I head toward the porch of the house.

I raise my hand and knock on the door.

I waited nervously for the door to open, my heart pounding in my chest. When I finally see Y/n, a smile spreads across my face. I’m wearing a long, puffy dress in a pale gray, as if it had been corroded by radiation, perfectly embodying Marie Curie. The high collar and puffy sleeves give me an elegant yet eerie appearance.

Y/n looks me up and down, and her smile widens. "You look beautiful," she says, her eyes shining. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I feel my face heat up, blushing fiercely. "I'm Marie Curie," I say, trying to mask my embarrassment. I’m not sure if she got my reference.

"The scientist who died from radiation, I know." Y/n’s response surprises me.

I smile, incredulous and happy, as the tension in me melts away.

"Is that bag?" Y/n asks curiously, leaning slightly toward me.

"I thought we could eat some junk food and watch some movies... You know... it’s Halloween," I say timidly, feeling my cheeks flush.

Y/n smiles, and her enthusiasm encourages me. "Sounds like a great idea, come in."

I enter, glancing around curiously, immediately noticing a strange but oddly comforting silence.

"How come there’s no one here?" I ask curiously, following Y/n upstairs.

"Oh, my parents aren’t home," she says simply, guiding me to her room.

Once inside, I look around, noticing the 90s posters and details that make the room feel so cozy. "What movie do you want to watch?" Y/n asks, approaching the shelf of films. My eyes land on a book on the table: The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. I smile amused. "What a strange book," I comment.

"I found it at a stall," Y/n replies distractedly.

As she scans the titles, I feel a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Maybe something horror?" I suggest, a shy smile on my face.

"Perfect," she says, but then slowly moves closer.

Our hands brush, and in an instant, she leans in and kisses me. Her cold lips against mine are unexpected, but I feel a warm explosion of emotions. When I open my eyes, a smile spreads across my face, but right after, I realize we’re floating. The joy vanishes, replaced by a grimace of terror.

I quickly pull away from her, the disappointment clear in her eyes.

"Are you a ghost?" I say in disbelief. Are my mom’s crazy ideas real?

She nods, and my heart races.

"Why didn’t you tell me? How did you die?" I ask, incredulous but curious.

Y/n sighs, her face growing serious.

"I didn’t want to scare you, I haven’t had a decent conversation in years... And it was my father... After he killed his partner with an axe, he finished me off too, his only daughter. Then he died from poisoning." She slowly lifts her shirt, revealing a deep cut on her stomach.

The sight of that mark makes my blood run cold. I can’t believe what she’s saying, yet I can’t look away.

"Why did you lie to me?" I ask, my voice strangely calm despite the turmoil I feel inside.

Y/n scratches her head, her face turning a little red with embarrassment. "I told you, I wanted company... and I also wanted to surprise you," she finally confesses, her shyness evident in her tone.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. "A surprise?" I repeat, trying to understand where she’s going with this.

"I know we only met yesterday, but... you’re a good person, Astrid. And I... wanted to help you see your father," she murmurs, her voice fading as if it was hard to admit.

My eyes widen, taken aback by her words. "Is it possible?" I ask, the emotion clinging to my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Y/n nods, serious, and a part of me, the part that never stopped hoping, starts to believe it’s true.

An unexpected joy bursts inside me. Before I can stop myself, I approach and hug her tightly, but the moment my arms touch her, her body passes through mine as if made of smoke. The sensation leaves me stunned: cold and insubstantial, yet with a certain warmth, a distant echo of humanity.

"Sorry," I mutter embarrassed, while she laughs softly, not making a big deal out of it.

Without saying a word, Y/n steps away and heads toward a corner of the room. She bends down and picks up a small white object, lifting it toward me with a knowing smile. "A piece of chalk?" I ask, squinting in confusion, but without taking my eyes off her ethereal figure.

She nods and, with precise movements, draws a door on the wall of her room. When she finishes, she stands next to me, looking at the drawing with a strange satisfaction. The drawing almost seems to pulse with life, as if an unknown force was stirring behind that simple figure.

"It’s the door to the other world," she says with a small smile, her tone light as if she were talking about something trivial.

I feel my heart race in my chest. "And what am I supposed to do?" I ask, even more confused, staring at the drawing with evident skepticism.

"Knock," she says calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hesitantly, I approach the drawn door, my hand trembling slightly. I knock, feeling ridiculous. Who knocks on a drawing? But a moment later, a dull sound echoes beyond the wall, and before I can react, the drawing comes to life. The door creaks open with a chilling sound, revealing a passage that emits thick, glowing smoke. A cold breeze wraps around me, along with a spectral light, like that of an old neon sign.

I stand still, my mouth open in amazement. In front of me unfolds the world of the dead. It’s exactly as I imagined: chaotic, grotesque, yet strangely fascinating. The walls seem to be made of a material never seen before, a mix of rotting flesh and crumbling concrete, covered with drawings and graffiti that shift shape before my eyes. Indistinct shadows move at the edge of my vision, as if the world itself was breathing. The sky above us isn’t a real sky: it’s an endless ceiling of greenish mist, studded with metallic pipes and flickering light bulbs.

In the distance, I hear the hum of old fans and the sound of distorted laughter, like an echo from a forgotten cabaret. Creatures of all shapes wander in what seems to be a surreal public office, each with a more bizarre appearance than the last: some have gigantic heads, others are reduced to walking skeletons, and still others seem to melt into goo. The world feels like a collage of forgotten things and distorted memories, a mix of the surreal and the macabre.

"Welcome," Y/n whispers beside me.

I turn to her, still in disbelief, but my heart is pounding, full of a hope I can’t suppress. Maybe, in that chaotic madness, I’ll finally get to see my father.

(...)

As we walk through the world of the dead, my head spins as I try to catch every detail, but everything is so surreal that it feels like being trapped in a nightmare. The gray and decaying offices are populated by grotesque figures moving with indifference. Faceless shadows wander the hallways, and distorted laughter continues in the distance.

"It's... strange," I whisper, my voice tense, "This place... how can it exist?"

Y/n glances at me, but before she can answer, a chilling sound fills the air. A shrill, metallic alarm starts echoing everywhere.

"ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED HUMAN PRESENCE!" A robotic and sinister voice booms through the walls.

Y/n’s eyes widen, her face pale. "Oh no... the human alarm!"

"W-what?" I stammer, but before I can grasp what’s happening, Y/n grabs my wrist, pulling me forcefully.

"We have to go! Now!" she yells, starting to run towards the exit. The creatures around us freeze, some turning with ravenous eyes, others beginning to move towards us with eerie slowness.

We race through the hallways like two shadows, our footsteps echoing as the sound of the alarm grows louder. The lights flicker, and I can hear the frantic pounding of my heart in my ears. Every corner seems to distort, making it hard to tell which way is out.

We turn a corner down a long corridor and stop abruptly. In front of us are two familiar figures. One is my mother, Lydia, with her unmistakable black bob and stern look. But the figure next to her leaves me breathless: a man with messy hair and a black and white striped suit, with a mischievous and cocky expression. Beetlejuice.

"Y/n?" says Beetlejuice, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here, kid?"

Y/n grits her teeth, her voice a tense whisper. "Dad..."

I feel a lump forming in my throat as my mother and I turn to each other, both of us with mouths agape in shock.

"Dad?" I repeat incredulously, my eyes wide as I look at Y/n.

Lydia doesn’t have time for questions. She grabs both of us by the arms. "We have to go, now!" she shouts, and we start running, with Y/n still pulling me even harder.

Behind us, the alarm continues to blare, and the footsteps of the authorities from the world of the dead begin to echo closer. Beetlejuice lags behind, chuckling as if this were all a game to him.

We run towards a door, but when Lydia flings it open, instead of finding a way out, we fall into the void, tumbling into scorching sand. I hit the ground hard, raising a cloud of dust, coughing from the impact.

"No... no, no, no!" Lydia screams, scrambling to her feet. "We’re in the sandworm desert!"

I struggle to stand, but panic takes over when I see the ground shaking beneath us. In the distance, the giant sandworm emerges from the dune, speeding towards us at a terrifying pace. Its long, scaly body slithers through the sand like a dark shadow.

Y/n grabs my hand and starts running, dragging me along with her. "Come on! We can't stop!"

Lydia follows close behind, her face twisted in fear, but the worm is too fast. I can feel it getting closer, its gaping mouth emitting a piercing scream, ready to devour us.

"It's too close!" I cry, my breath short, but just then, a miracle happens.

From the sky, a door of light suddenly opens above us, and a hand reaches out from nowhere, grabbing each of us. First Y/n, then me, and finally Lydia. With a yank, it pulls us up, taking us away just as the worm opens its jaws beneath us.

The world flips for a moment until we find ourselves on a cold floor, safe. I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath, as Y/n looks at me with concern.

"W-we made it..." Y/n murmurs, still in disbelief.

I look up and see my father watching me with pride. His skin is greenish, with some fish stuck in his hair, but he's smiling all the same.

My eyes fill with tears. "Dad..." I murmur before throwing myself into his arms. "Sweetheart..." he whispers, hugging me tightly. I pull away with a smile I can't hold back.

"I saw Lydia and decided to follow you... But what are you wearing, sweetheart? You look like Marie Curie!" he says with an amused grin, glancing at me. I giggle and nod.

Then, his gaze shifts beyond me, and I notice Lydia approaching. My father smiles at her, reaching out an arm. "Lydia, come here," he says warmly. he embraces her without hesitation. "I miss you ," he whispers, his voice full of affection and gratitude.

Lydia smiles shyly as she returns the hug.

"I miss you too " she replies softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

They separate, and my father turns back to us. "You have to go," he says suddenly, his tone serious.

He puts an arm around my waist and takes my mother’s hand with the other. "You have to go. Now," he repeats urgently, pulling us toward a staircase that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

"I love you, Dad," I say, tears filling my eyes.

"I love you too," he replies, his gaze veiled with tears and a bittersweet smile on his lips before he slowly vanishes.

My mother starts climbing the stairs, but I stay behind, waiting for Y/n.

"Go," she suddenly says, with sadness in her voice.

"Come with me," I say, confused, my heart pounding.

"I don’t know, Astrid... I’m tired of wandering. Maybe my place is here," she replies, her voice trembling.

My heart stops for a moment.

"Don’t be silly, we’ll find a solution," I say, a lump in my throat, and my chest aching.

She shakes her head, resolute.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest, but I move closer to her and grab her hands. Her touch is cold, almost as if there’s nothing to hold onto, but I don’t let go. "I need you. I... I want you," I confess, my cheeks flushing red.

"Astrid..." she murmurs.

"We’ll figure it out, okay? But I need you," I repeat, with all the sincerity I can muster. Y/n looks at me for a few seconds, then sighs and slowly nods.

My face lights up in a huge smile.

Y/n Pov's

Days later, the light of the sunset fills my old room with a warm, orange hue. Everything seems so normal, yet the tension in the air is palpable. Astrid and I sit on the floor, surrounded by lit candles, while her mother draws a complicated circle of runes on the wooden floor. It seems absurd to think that it's really possible, that I can come back to life. And yet, here we are.

The book her mother holds is ancient, its pages worn and yellowed with age. The runes and symbols I see seem to pulse with their own energy, as if the text is more than just paper and ink.

Astrid is close to me, sitting by my side, her gaze serious but kind, just as it always is when she wants to show me that everything will be okay. She was the one who insisted on finding a solution, and when her mother discovered this ancient ritual, she didn’t hesitate. The thought of coming back to life fills me with hope, but also fear. It’s like jumping into the unknown.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, searching her eyes.

She looks at me without hesitation. “There’s nothing I want more in the world.” Her hand finds mine, warm and reassuring. “I want you here, with me.”

Her mother finishes drawing the circle with white chalk and stands slowly, her gaze focused and attentive. “This is the Rite of Essence Binding,” she says, her voice firm but carrying a gravity I can't ignore. “An ancient practice that binds the soul to the body. But it’s a delicate process. Y/n, you’re suspended between two worlds. This rite will bring your essence back to the living world.”

Her words make my throat tighten. I know something big, something irreversible is about to happen. I feel Astrid squeeze my hand tighter, and I look at her, finding all the courage I need in her.

“Step into the circle,” her mother orders calmly.

Astrid and I stand and position ourselves in the center of the rune drawing. The floor beneath our feet seems to vibrate slightly, as if the ritual had already begun just with our presence. Her mother begins to mutter ancient words that echo in the room as if carried by an invisible wind. The runes drawn on the floor start to glow with a deep, pulsing blue light, and the air becomes thick, charged with energy.

“During the rite, your soul will try to reconnect with your body, but it might face resistance,” her mother explains, not stopping the incantation. “Astrid, you must be her anchor. The bond between you is what will allow the rite to work.”

Astrid never lets go of my hand, and I can feel her strength flowing into me. Every word spoken by her mother pulls me in a different direction, as if my being is divided between the world of the living and the dead. Then, the pain begins.

It’s a deep pain, starting in my chest and expanding into every cell of my body. I feel like I’m being torn in two, as if something is trying to pull me away from reality. But I don’t let go. I hold onto Astrid’s hand with all the strength I have.

The runes beneath our feet shine brighter, the blue light rising like flames around us. I feel my heart beating in my chest, strong and fast. It’s a real, tangible heartbeat. My essence is returning.

“Don’t let go of me,” Astrid whispers, her voice broken with emotion.

“I won’t,” I manage to reply, as the pain intensifies even more, becoming unbearable.

Her mother’s words grow louder, faster. The energy in the room is almost suffocating, and everything builds to a climax. I feel immense pressure, like the entire world is crushing my body, but then, suddenly, the pain shatters, leaving only peace.

The runes glow for one last moment, then the light fades, and with it, silence envelops the room.

I breathe. My chest rises and falls regularly. I feel my heart beating, I feel the blood coursing through my veins. My body is alive.

I look at my hands, incredulous. They’re warm. Truly warm.

“You’re here… You’re back,” Astrid murmurs, her voice filled with emotion.

Her arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, and I return it, finally feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Her hand strokes my back, and I know that, this time, I’m really here.

Her mother closes the book and sighs deeply. “It’s done,” she says, with a small, tired smile. “Y/n, you’re alive.”

All I can do is smile, in disbelief, as I hold onto Astrid, feeling my heart beating strong against hers. I’m no longer a shadow, a memory. I’m real. I’ve come back. And with her, I feel like I can face anything.

"Astrid..." I whisper, my voice trembling but full of emotion. I can’t say more because she suddenly moves closer, her eyes shining with something I’d never seen before. Before I can even realize it, her lips are on mine.

The kiss is sweet, intense, full of everything we’ve felt during those days of waiting and hoping. I feel her warmth, her life melding with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel whole. The world around us seems to disappear: it's just the two of us, in that moment.

When we pull apart, her eyes find mine, full of a joy that manages to warm me from within. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back, even though a small corner of uncertainty still lingers inside me.

“You’re back,” she murmurs, as if afraid I might disappear again.

“Yes,” I reply, still in disbelief. “Thanks to you.”

I take a deep breath and decide to stand up, to take a step forward, to feel the floor beneath my feet again. But as soon as I try to move, my body seems to give way. My legs tremble, weak and unsteady, and the whole world seems to sway around me. Before I can process it, I’m falling forward, my knees giving out beneath me.

Astrid grabs my waist just in time, holding me in her arms. My heart races, not just from the panic of losing my balance. "Hey, take it easy," she says softly, rubbing my back to reassure me. "You have to get used to it again. It’s not easy coming back to normal."

“I didn’t think... walking would be so hard,” I say, trying to laugh but feeling the embarrassment take over. I look at my legs, still trembling slightly, as if they aren’t responding to my commands.

Astrid helps me sit down again, her touch always gentle but firm. “It’s normal, it’ll take time. You have to get used to being alive again,” she says, smiling at me like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Her mother approaches with an understanding expression. “Your body has gone through a shock, Y/n. Even though your soul is back, you have to give your body time to readjust. Move slowly, one step at a time.”

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of those words. Astrid is still beside me, her arm around my waist, ready to support me at any moment.

“I’m here,” she says softly, stroking my face. “I’m not letting go.”

I take a deep breath, and even though my legs are weak, I know that with her by my side, I can do this. I lift my gaze and meet her eyes. "One step at a time," I repeat, squeezing her hand. "Together."

Astrid smiles again, and in that moment, I feel like I can conquer the world.

#SoundCloud #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #astrid deetz #astrid deetz x reader #beetlejuice #ghost

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 14 hours

Text

Mad Season 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Peter rushes in, a tray of drinks in hand.

You pop up on the stool, broken from your trance. Uncertain what else to do, you spent much of your time trying to distract yourself with his schematics. You twist to face him.

“Um, Bucky,” you answer and cringe at home dumb you sound. “He helped.”

“Bucky? Helpful?” He nears and puts the cardboard tray on the table, “I guess he can be.” He picks at the edge of the tray, “I got you a blueberry matcha. The place I hit didn’t have strawberry in season anymore.”

“Oh, sounds... interesting, but you--”

“Didn’t have to. I know, you always say so but I felt bad for being so late. I told may to get an airtag for her wallet. She can be so--” he stops himself and chuckles. “It’s whatever. She’s got a lot going on.”

“Mhm,” you accept the cup he offers. “I was just looking over the plans. I think we could probably just go with yours. Makes more sense.”

“What? Oh, no way,” he takes his iced whatever. It just looks like layers of sugar and cream. “I think we could easily bring together both. Take some of your features and mine. I don’t want to take over.”

“Yeah, but...”

“But nothing. Really. It’s a team project, not my project,” he insists as he hops up on the stool next to you, “so,” he swipes his hand in the air and a holographic screen appears. You flinch. “Let’s compare and redraw.”

You gape as another floating rectangle appears before him. No wonder his look so much better than your Paint hack job. You want to sink down and disappear. You always figured you’re not interesting enough to be his friend but now you’re certain you might be too stupid and poor for him too.

“So, I’m going to get logged in...” he mutters.

“Um, Peter?” You murmur, “are you sure you wanna be my partner?”

“Why... wouldn’t I?” He hovers his hand before the screen as he looks at you.

“I dunno. I don’t... I don’t have much to offer. Not a lab, not all these cool computers...”

“Oh this? No, it’s not—it's not a big deal. Dude, I'm so lucky Mr. Stark is letting me use this. I’m not ignorant, you know? I just thought it would be easier. I don’t think your roommates like me much and mine are so loud.” he explains as he lowers his arm, crossing both over the table as he leans on it. “Do you not want to be my partner?”

“Nnnooo,” you drag the word out. “No, I do, but I want to contribute to and I don’t know how to use any of this.”

“That’s cool. I’ll show you.”

“Um, okay,” you nibble your lip sheepishly. “I guess...”

“Did you try the tea? Is it good?” He changes the subject. He does that a lot. Pivots around before you can finish your thoughts.

“Not yet,” you look down at the bright pink lid, “where did you get this?”

“Some place called Berry? I don’t know. Everything was bright. You’d hate it,” he laughs again. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as you blow into the lid cautiously. “Before I forget, I’m having a party. I know it’s not really your thing but it’s ‘my turn’,” he makes quotations with his fingers, “and I don’t really wanna but I also thought I'd invite you in case you wanted to not be there with me, too.”

Your blink in surprise, “a party?”

“I know, too much. Well, I didn’t wanna leave you out.”

“Mmm,” you drone nervously. It is really nice of him to think of you and after everything else, you hate to say no. “No one ever invited me to a party.”

“No?” His brow furrows, “really?”

You shake your head, “I’ll come. Yeah. I’ll try. You know, it’s college and ...” you take a sip and clear your throat, “should I bring a dessert?”

He laughs and gives you a playful grudge, “wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that except my aunt’s friends. Nope, you can just come as you are. You can always bring some drinks for yourself but I’ll have more than enough to share.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod.

“The tea good?” He asks again.

“Yeah, sweet,” you put the cup down.

“Awesome!” He grins. “I really didn’t think you’d come. I’m so excited.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Well, duh. You’re so fucking cool. Like all my other friends, they try so hard. It’s all ‘let’s go do shots’ or ‘watch me do this dumb shit’. You don’t even try, you’re just you. It’s like people don’t realize they can just be nice and be cool for just that.”

“I... yeah,” you don’t know what to say.

It’s like he’s calling you boring but not. You know you are and you don’t mind but you can’t ever remember when you just felt like everyone else. Where you weren’t the odd one out. Despite trying to include you, Peter still manages to push you to the edges.

You wince as you notice how he stares at you. You fidget and pick at the button on the front of your corduroy skirt. His eyes flick down to the nervous movement.

“I like that,” he reaches to touch the ridged fabric, “blue. Oh, thick.”

Your leg twitches in surprise, “uh, yeah... found it at the student thrift shop.”

“Really?” His fingers brush over the hem and touch your coloured tights. They linger for a moment before he pulls away. “Cute. I’ve never been there.”

“It’s not bad...” you cross your legs as you knee tingles from his touch. That was strange.

“Well, anyway,” he waggles his fingers as he turns back to the table, “uh, where was I?” He squints at the screens and taps in the air. He pauses and looks at you. “Here, I’ll show you how it work, alright?”

He reaches over again and you brace yourself. He grabs the underside of the stool seat and drags you closer. He it so easily, you gasp. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He slides his hand around so his arm is diagonal around your back.

“Right, so...” his shoulder presses to you as he points with his other arm, “you can just use your finger. I’ll have to add your prints to the program. Put your hands up.”

You obey as he stays close. You’re overly away of it. The way he’s pressed to you. He doesn’t seem to notice at all. You try not to think of it and focus on his instructions. The project. That’s why you’re here.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mad season #series #drabble #au #winter soldier #spider-man #avengers #marvel #mcu

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afewfantasies · 2 days

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Lucky Strike 🎯 🎱 - Visions - VI

COMPLETE MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Pairing: Benny Cross (Bikeriders) X Reader

Summary: The reader extends her stay and Benny confronts her with how he's been feeling. They share their visions of forever before being confronted with unwanted visitors. There are fluffy moments and lots of physical touch.

Word count: 3.4K

He could feel himself getting angry standing at your side. He didn’t think it was possible but hearing you call another man sweet things took him there easily. It was gnawing at him again. How little he had to offer a woman like the one you’d become. The little engagement ring riddled in diamonds was something he could never give you. The wind blows and he tries controlling his temper only to hear the phone slam into the receiver and a few coins falling out. Turning to face him your eyes are all lit up as you chew your bubble gum.

“We have two more weeks!” You giggle, taking his hands and hopping up and down with excitement. “Think that’s enough time to teach me to ride a Harley?” You ask as Benny’s energy settles.

“Why do you need to learn how to ride a Harley now?” Benny asks, wrapping his arms around you as he turns you to the parking lot.

“Well, my hobbies are much less thrilling” you pop your gum.

Benny smiles, eager to know more. “What are they?”

“My mother’s hobbies, shopping, reading, painting. Silence is the underlying theme.” You jest.

“I’m sure she won’t like you on a bike, your fiancé either” Benny adds fishing for more info on the man.

“Well that’s what friends are for Benny, you keep my secrets and I’ll keep yours. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. We’re on borrowed time so let’s get going so I don’t miss the picnics festivities” you stomp in good spirits. Benny’s smiling at you already indulging outbursts he shouldn’t.

“What if we blew off the picnic? And just went somewhere just us two?” Benny asks.

“How much money for gas do you have?” You ask handing him a five dollar bill.

“That’ll get us far enough” he comments, pulling out another ten. “This’ll keep us fed”

“What about if it rains or we need a place to stay?” You ask.

“We can figure it out. You trust me don’t you?” He asks and you find yourself smiling.

“With my life” you confess.

“Why are you so sunny today?” Benny asks, trying to get a hold of his own happiness.

“I get to spend seven more days with my best friend in the entire world who doesn’t expect me to wear stuffy proper clothes, or do anything really but be me and exist. To me that’s as exciting as a brand new shiny Harley is to you.” You explain.

“Now I feel special,” he says sarcastically, only it’s the furthest thing from a lie.

“Benjamin, don’t mock me, I'm being sincere.” you laugh shoving him playfully. Benny grabs your arm pulling you in closer as the two of you laugh.

“Y/N, if it was you or a brand new high performance Harley and unlimited gas. I’d choose you” Benny says.

“Oh wow, I am special. For a bike rider that’s practically wedding vows” you gape genuinely surprised.

“You can’t be surprised, you’re my best friend in the world” he asserts. “You grew up nice, I’d marry you too” Benny says cavalier. He shrugs casually and you laugh.

“Now I know you’re pulling my leg, I see the way you look at my clothes. I know what you and the guys think about my fancy style” you tell him to get on the back of his bike and slide back so he can get on.”

His good humour fades into a serious expression “Not pulling your leg. What’s so hard to believe? You don’t love the other guy and he’d marry you” Benny says and you take a breath closing your eyes. You blank when you try to picture your future with Benny married. He smiles amused that you visualise things in adulthood.

“We both have bikes” he says, starting you off.

“Mhm” you nod motioning for him to keep the visuals coming.

“We live someplace simple but near enough to a shopping mall to feed your habit” he says and you laugh.

You nod some more “Keep going…”

“And I work at an auto shop or factory. You bake from time to time to make some money.”

Benny continues and you hold out a hand with your eyes till closed moving it from side to side to tell him that part of the vision is so so.

“When do you have time to ride and meet up with the guys?” You ask, opening your eyes and he shrugs.

“Weekends” he proposes.

“This bike is everything to you Benny. Don’t be so quick to give it up for a life of responsibility. We’ve had enough of that” you tell him disregarding his incomplete satirical vision of the future.

“So what your fiancé has more to offer you?” Benny snaps. “Or is an auto mechanic not good enough” he snaps feeling affronted.

Your brows knit and it takes you a moment to realise it was real for him. You take in enough air to fill your lungs in absolute shock sitting there on his bike. Benny watches as it all comes to you. The revelation hurts, he’d been swimming in confusing feelings for you since he’d laid eyes on you and you hadn't given it a serious thought. He leaves you spinning as he heads in the direction of the outdoor pool to have a smoke and cool off instead of kicking up a fuss.

Swallowing you look at your feet and then to his bike and then you relax as water comes to your eyes. The thought of hurting Benny is too much. You’d locked up your heart long ago. No expectations, no disappointments. When your fiancé came around it seemed perfect. You’d be tethered to each other out of chosen obligation, not something as fickle as love. He promised to care for you and he would. He’d never have to pretend with you and that there was real love enough. Just not the kind most couples hoped for. The world wasn’t yet ready for him to openly love the man of his choosing and so he opted for a wife that understood and accepted him. Your fiancé was a safe space who ensured that you wouldn’t be the only one playing a role while in public within your society. Pretending to be proper and well off when your humble beginnings suggested otherwise. Getting off the bike you make your way to the pool and find Benny sitting on one of the chairs. He’s gorgeous even when he’s upset. You smile, allowing yourself to see him as more. You sit down beside him and he kills his smoke on the concrete before looking at you with a clenched jaw.

“If you get mad so fast this’ll never work. I’ll wear down your nerves and keep your cigarette pack empty” you tease with a smirk. Benny swallows his own, unable to stay upset with you. “I wasn’t implying you don’t have enough to offer. I was making it clear I don’t expect you to sacrifice your happiness for my comfort” you explain.

“It would make me happy to keep you comfortable” Benny mutters.

“You could work for a bit and then we could save up and buy a mobile home. Huck would give us a truck. We could do something that keeps you on a bike as often as possible.

“That would make you happy?” Benny asks.

“We could drive anywhere, see this country and eventually maybe even the world. An extended adventure. That would make me happy.” you confess allowing yourself a dream.

“Not being a mother?” Benny asks.

“I’d like to live a little first so I can settle down and have something to offer a kid.” You explain. Bennys never heard such a thing. He scratches his head. People got married, got a home and worked until they died to provide for their families. That’s how adulthood had been put to him. “Benny, do you want kids?” You ask.

“Not sure, I mean if it happened I’d be okay with it” he shrugs. “A mobile home?” He asks, looking at you.

“Yeah, cheaper than hotels and motels. You can use it like a tent. A boy from my high school got one he drove all the way down to South America. Said it was life changing” you share.

“That’s what you want?” Benny says being the first to ask. You close your eyes again and you can picture it. Being on the road with Benny for hours. Exploring new places. Taking pictures, laughing, talking by campfires.

“Yeah” you nod, opening them to him. He draws in a deep breath.

“I don’t know a lick of Spanish” he mumbles.

“We can figure it out,” you shrug.

He sighs. “Doubt your mother will like that”

“She’ll get over it” you shrug again. “Now let’s go to this picnic and have a good time.” You stand holding out a hand for him. Benny takes it, getting up and pulling you into a warm hug. You were his heart beating outside his body. Something he heard Johnny say about his daughter once. Now he finally knew what it really felt like. He gets on the bike first and you follow suit giving him space as he starts up. The running engine starts the motor and Benny settles back in his seat. Taking your hand from his side he pulls your hand to slide you closer to him so you’re body to body before repositioning your hand on his abdomen.

“Comfortable?” He shouts over the sounds of the bike looking back at you.

“Yeah!” You nod before resting your head on his back. He gives your hand a pat feeling like a new man as you pull off. Your mind runs wild at the possibilities and at the physical contact. You can’t help but wonder where all this has come from. Benny declaring his intentions. He’d always loved you but had it really been more? He’d been in a relationship and you betrothed and there’d been no room in your heart for expectation or disappointment after a lifetime of it one way or another. You’d never really had anyone after you left Benny. Your fiancé had been a friend turned potential life partner and overall good man. In your bid for normalcy you’d decided to adopt and maybe foster a child that came from a situation like yours. You wouldn’t be a mother but a friend, a safe space for the kids and him. It brought you enough peace.

The prospect of being with Benny was different. Exciting, terrifying, riveting. Your return had fed your soul in more ways that anyone could ever know. Love had never been in your vision for yourself. You tried it in high school but what your friends described and what you felt were totally different. Pretty dressed and pretending was all it was. After high school you were in a relationship with a guy your mom thought was great. You tried to let yourself fall but it didn’t happen. He was enamoured but you’d always been lukewarm. Smiling on cue, laughing at his jokes and he was none the wiser parading you around like a trinket. Sex was the nail in the relationship's coffin.

You went to the library at a women’s college the next day. A small penis and premature ejaculation were to blame for that god awful first time, in addition to a lack of skill. As you closed that book on sex you closed your heart and mind to the possibilities of love. Your fiancé came into town a few weeks later. The rest was history.

Benny takes his hand from the handles placing one over yours on his stomach. He’d never felt so full in all his years. Tearing through the Chicago roads his mind is fixed on your vision of the future. He’d never ever thought he could travel. Be free of this city. Be with a woman like the one you’d become. You start to hear a party as the cement turns into gravel and eventually dirt roads. There’s cheering at Bennys arrival. You hug a couple of the guys looking for Johnny’s wife Barb. You watch a couple guys on the grill and run around with the kids playing tag and frisbee. A few hours in, you and Barbara walk up the hill to sit in peace.

“Benny can’t keep his eyes off you” she says perceptively. Looking into your drink you smile and she laughs at your blush. “You’re good for him, he looks relaxed every time he sees you’re having fun” she adds. “Hear you two have been hold up in one hotel room”

“It’s not like that” you smile, knocking your knees against hers. “We’ve never fooled around,” you tell her honestly.

“I believe you, Bennys girls aren’t typically so sane” she jokes. You look at the sunset.

You sigh.“The girls say it’s not easy living a vandal”

“Because they love the vandal when they’re supposed to love the man.” She says.

“I love Johnny. He loves the club so I support that. And god does that man love me. Comes home every night unless he’s driving a long hall and works his ass off. He deserves a little partying and some beer every night. If riding around with his friends and sitting at the clubhouse makes him a vandal, so what?” She shrugs.

“Y’all get down here before it gets dark” Johnny shouts from below. You and Barb hold hands talking it slow. By the time you’re down it’s dark and the guys are tending a fire. The kids are asleep in cars and the party is getting started. You sit beside Benny and he wraps an arm around you.

“Alright?” He checks in.

“Yeah you?”

“Mhm” he nods with eyes on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as he kisses your forehead instead. He’s golden in the hue of the campfire. You look away melting under the heat of being looked at as an object of desire from someone you actually love and admire. It’s an immense pressure. Your heart races and fear wins out, when you remember society’s expectations.

“I’m not a virgin Benny. I know it means a lot to some men so I thought I’d tell you now” you confess looking at him. His eyes hold yours before he smiles a little.

“Neither am I” he shrugs. You hold his gaze relaxing when you see he’s serious and it’s not a point of contention. “What, you thought I'd be upset? You gonna be upset that I’m not either”

“I don't know you could be. You’re a bike rider. I hear how these guys are and I hear you get all the ladies.” You recall.

“I’m not like that. I don’t run through women.” He says. “How about you?��

“It was once and it was terrible but at least it was quick.” You tell him and he frowns.

“Did he have your permission?” He asks with his heart in his stomach.

“Yes but it was … god Benny I’ve never said any of this out loud” you admit feeling bashful.

“It was what?” He asks pulling you in closer.

“Not good, I wanted it to end and him to get off of me and then it was over and he was asking for a few more minutes to make it up and apologising and I was getting dressed to go home.” You confess making Benny chuckle. “Sheesh” he says amused.

“It’s not funny” you say, misunderstanding his laughter.

“No it’s not but it is. Gorgeous as you are poor fool probably got too excited. That’s not how it should be.” Benny says looking down at you. It was a strange thing to be so open with a woman but it was you.

“No?” you ask.

“No,” he affirms.

You sigh not believing him.“I think that’s just for men”

“It’s not ask Barbara,” Benny advises.

“I’m not asking Barbara about her and her husband” you whisper aghast at Bennys suggestion. He chuckles some more and you realise you love to see him smile. “You’re being a terror” you smile getting up and he follows suit, enjoying winding you up now as much as he had as a boy.

“It’s not just enjoyable for men,” he says, pulling you close as you make it to a park bench away from the group. The city is sparkling below as you sit resting your head against his.

“Tired?”

“Mhm” you nod.

“Let’s head back while you can still ride with me” he says standing. You find Johnny and a few others before leaving and riding into the night. Benny parks and you get your keys for the hotel stopping when you see two big guys outside your door. You step back into Benny who steps in front of you.

“Y/N Y/LN?” One of the men says.

“Who’s asking?” Benny snaps.

“You have an outstanding debt. I was gonna collect it’s value from your step mothers house but she told me you could give me cold hard cash” the man says looking around Benny at you.

“I don’t have any, the man is dead, leave us alone” you tell him.

“You deal with me” Benny tells them and he scoffs.

“Fancy hotel like this. You have until tomorrow at midnight to clear the debt or I’ll beat one of the kids. Vandal, you know where to find me.” the man says before walking away. You feel your hands trembling. Benny takes the keys letting you in. You’re a kid again. It’s not the first time. Far from the first time men have showed up to collect.

“Even while dead” you sigh and Benny holds you.

“I’ll take care of it. Must’ve missed one” Benny promises.

“Benny it’s extortion, they’ll keep on now they think I’m well off. I can’t believe she sent them here?!” You snap.

“Y/N relax, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Grab a shower and let’s go to sleep.” Benny suggests but just like that you’re too wired. A ball of nerves. A mix of fear and frustration. You sit on the couch and he follows pulling you onto his lap before cradling you like a child. His eyes assure you it’s handled. “Nothings gonna happen to you” he promises as tears fall. He wipes them away, taking on the role of protector like he had so many times before.

“Benny, I'll just take some things to the pawnshop for the cash. I don’t want trouble” you sigh, not wanting it to be bigger than it needs to be.

“I’ll take care of it,” Benny asserts.

“But B-“

“Shhhhhh, I have the cash. I’ll clear the debt” he asserts. You swallow looking up at him wondering how it was that you were so lucky to have him and then find him again. Sitting up you run your fingers through the low sides of his hair. His eyes watch you intently.

“Thank you” you whisper and he places a kiss on your forehead and the nose.

“You never have to thank me,” he says, not needing it.

“I do Benny, and I love you” you confess. “Like a crazy amount” you say, breathing through your tears.

“I know, and believe me I love you more” he says.

“Impossible” you smile as he wipes your tears away. Taking your chin he brings your lips to his several times kissing them quickly as he tries adding levity to the situation.

“It’s a fact” he asserts.

“Now go shower first” he whispers and you nod, getting up feeling a little better. You cry in the shower feeling as powerless to your father as you did in childhood. You get in bed as Benny heads to the bathroom. You don’t have to ask him to sleep beside you. He does. Getting in the bed pulling you to him and placing his hand under your silk top is resting skin to skin. “I’m here okay?”

“Mhm”

“Forever” he promises and you turn to him.

“Forever” you agree. He’d gone from having nothing to everything in a matter of weeks. He never wanted you to worry again. This time your dad’s choices wouldn’t win. He’d save the day and keep. His hand slides up your back as he holds you and your heart beats sync.

Authour's Note:

Ok, ok, ok, so we're moving along. I know this one moved a little quick but it's longer than the typical update. How do we feel about them unthawing for each other? How do we feel about their vision for the future? How do we feel about that ending? Lets get into it!

Thanks for reading lovelies 🩵🩵🩵

TAGS:

@mrsalwayswrite @ughdontbeboring @astrogrande @palomavz @thesaturngurl @peggyao3 @thefallofthedamned @avidreader73

#austin butler imagine #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #benny cross imagine #benny cross x reader #benny the bikeriders #benny cross #benny #the bikeriders x reader #the bikeriders

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amiti-art · 2 days

Note

HI! I’m here to ask honest opinion on….Lore Olympus. I’m sorry for putting my opinion here….but I hate it. I’m sorry, I try to see it in a good way….put it paints Apollo as a horrible person. And there are other things that I’d respectfully don’t like about it.However, I want to see your opinion. That is if you’re willing to share it. BTW, I fricking love your drawings., especially the ones about Apollo and his myths! Have a good day or night!

Hello!

I'm glad you like my art 🫶🏻

So, Lore Olympus.

This probably won't come as a surprise to most people, considering how much Apollo art I've made, but I hate Lore Olympus. And not only because of how poorly Apollo was portrayed there.

I'm going to be honest with you: I never read much of it. I read maybe a few chapters some years ago because it was advertised as Greek mythology retelling, but I didn't continue because it was boring to me.

Much later, I saw a lot of posts pointing out all the things wrong with Lore Olympus, and boy oh boy, it's bad.

From what I've seen, it’s hardly a retelling; if the names of the characters were changed, nobody would realize this is supposed to be myth-inspired.

And look, I'm not saying you can't change anything when making a Greek mythology retelling, because it's simply impossible to keep everything the same as in the myths—especially when you want to create a story that covers many myths. The math isn't mathing when it comes to Greek mythology, because the myths changed over time, and different city-states had their own versions of the stories, so it's pretty impossible to make a cohesive timeline without changing something.

But from what I've seen, there isn't much Greek influence in this Greek mythology retelling. From the way the characters dress and speak to the food they eat, there is nothing Greek about this comic, it’s completely Americanized.

And I hate Americanization so much. I remember watching Netflix's "The Witcher" and being so disappointed because there was nothing Slavic about it. They kept Jaskier's original name from the books and called it a day. They turned it into another generic fantasy show.

I know that many Greek people feel the same way about Lore Olympus and other American adaptations of their myths. I love Percy Jackson, but the whole "gods moved to the USA because this is where Western civilization is" is just so icky to me. Greece still exists, hello??????

Back to Lore Olympus. For some reason it's fans think that the comic is a valid source for mythology, and they spread so much misinformation.

For the last time: Persephone was abducted in the myths. There is no version where she goes to the Underworld on her own.

Demeter is a heartbroken mother looking for her beloved daughter, not some evil helicopter parent standing between Persephone and her happiness. Justice for Apollo and Demeter.

Also, Persephone is sometimes drawn like a child and looks more like Hades' daughter than his wife. Why?????

And from what I've seen, Persephone is ridiculously powerful for some reason and fights Kronos or something???????

Also, apparently, Leto is portrayed as a manipulative mother????? Leto??? The Titan goddess of motherhood??? Why????

I don't understand why this comic got so popular, to be honest. Probably because of the artstyle.

#asks #anti lore olympus #greek mythology #greek mythology retelling #apollo #demeter #hades #lore olympus

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fleurrreads · 3 days

Text

pretty little rich girl

pairings: benny cross x fem!reader

warnings: some unwanted comments, bit of angst, happy ending(?)

author's note: based on this request! honestly don't know how i feel about this one, i might write more for them in the future.

Benny has seen many girls in his lifetime, but none of them have downright turned his world upside down. Until he met you. It was supposed to be just another night at the bar, until you walked in. All pretty in a little dress, pearls around your neck. You look expensive. Benny's eyes follow you until you sit down, probably with a friend. He steps closer to eavesdrop on the conversation.

You sit down with a huff, "Where did ya bring me, Kathy? Ya hang out 'round here?" You look around wildly at the bikers crowding the little bar. Kathy laughs. "Don't worry, darlin'. They won't do anythin to make you uncomfortable or somethin'. They're good people." Kathy finishes, looking over your shoulder, spotting Benny standing a few metres away. She smirks, "Okay listen, I'm gonna go get us some drinks, you want a pop? I'll get ya a pop." Kathy rambles, before walking off to the bar, leaving you alone. You look around warily, the bikers closest to you looking at each other, then at you, and then laughing among themselves. You look down, fiddling with your fingers. 'Hurry up Kathy' you thought to yourself, and a split second later someone sits down in Kathy's chair. But it's not Kathy.

You look up, seeing the prettiest blue eyes and you nearly gulp. Holy shit you think as you let your eyes travel the stranger up and down. He's gorgeous. The stranger looks in a daze, as he crosses his arms over his chest, muscles on full display. Before you say anything, he speaks and you think you could melt right there.

"I'm Benny." he says, his face nearly in a pout. You nearly laugh, the situation being so unorthodox. "I'm y/n. And you're sittin' on my friend's seat." you say, making him throw his hands up in feigned innocence. "Really? I didn't know. My bad, darlin'." He says in a husky voice, his eyes never leaving you.

You smile, "Yeah, but listen I gotta get home, so it was nice meetin' ya, but i gotta get goin'." You stand up, not bothering to look for Kathy, you'd call her later. Unbeknownst to you Benny gets up and follows you outside. As you make your way to the door you hear whistles and calls, making your stomach turn. One comment made you stop in your tracks. "Look at this pretty little rich girl, playin' where she doesn't belong." one of the bikers said, and you frowned.

Yes, you were from a wealthy family, but that doesn't make you just a rich girl. You have ambitions, you have dreams. You can be something other than a rich girl too.

You shake your head, pushing past people as fast as you can, trying to calm the tears that are threatening to spill. As soon as you get outside you take a cigarette from your bag, and sigh. "For fuck sakes. Where's my damn lighter." you grumble, emotions on high. Benny walks up to you, lighter in hand. Without saying anything he brings the light to your face, to your cigarette. "Thanks" you mumble, taking a drag.

You just want to go home. The past hour you've been here has probably taken three years off your lifespan. You sigh, kicking around a rock with your polished shoes. You would be able to enjoy this life, the freedom that comes along with it, if it weren't for people and their stupid comments. You'd finally find a place where you belong. Because it certainly wasn't with the rich kids. They always thought you were weird for having dreams like moving to a farm and building a life for yourself. Or moving to California to surf and working at a surf shop. That's why that guy in the bar's comment frustrated you. If you didn't belong at home, and you didn't belong here, then where do you belong? Benny clears his throat, you jump, forgetting that was there.

"Y'know, they didn't mean it like that. What they said back there. They 'just never seen a girl like you in our bar." he says, as if reading your mind. You scoff, taking another drag from your cigarette. "Yeah whatever, I don't really care. Probably won't see 'em again anyway. But you have a good evenin', Benny. It was delightful meetin' ya." You stomp out your cigarette, walking to the bus stop.

Benny offers you a ride home, because of course the busses don't run at 2am anymore. So you give him your address. As Benny takes a turn into your street you think of how vastly you differ from him. Him in his dirty leather jacket, his hair unwashed for probably a while, and his grease stained shirt underneath with his leather boots. To you, a girl polished by her parents to embody elegance, even though you were far from it. A white dress, pearls probably worth more than his bike, shoes polished and your hair neatly in a bow. A doll. A doll standing on a dangerous cliff, ready to jump down to whatever world Benny was involved in.

Benny pulls up to your house, and he takes a moment to study your house. A double story house, white picket fence, gorgeous porch running around the house. You were rich. He hears you sigh as you get off the bike, and he blurts out a question. "You wanna go to a meetin' with me tomorrow?" He looks at you, pretty dress now stained from sitting so close to him on the bike. He quite likes it. Him tainting your pretty little life. He can sense that you might like it too. You smile, "Yeah, why not. I don't have anythin' goin' on anyway." you nod, making your way to the white picket fence surrounding your house. You look back at him, his eyes sparkling with something you've never seen before.

"Well goodnight, Benny." you wave, making your way to your door.

"Goodnight, princess." Benny hums, leaning against his bike. Yeah he likes you, a lot. He's not going to let you slip out of his fingers. He's already obsessed with you. His princess.

Six weeks later, you married him.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

#fleur's blurbs 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 #benny cross x reader #benny cross x fem!reader #the bikeriders

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brain-rot-central · 2 days

Text

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 9

A/N: *YELLS "GOOD LUCK, BABE!" FROM THE ROOFTOPS*

WE MADE IT TO THE GALA, HOLY SHIT

Thank you to every single person that has liked, commented, sent anons, or showed any kind of support in any form for this silly little story. These last two months have been some of the shittiest of my life and I'm so happy be here with ya'll. I love you all so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Rating: Explicit (due to the themes, really. No smut this chapter.) Word count: 9.9k (I love you guys SO MUCH I'M SORRY)

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named)

Warnings: 18+, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, pregnancy, implied alcohol abuse, trauma, past abuse, PTSD themes, depictions of physical abuse, unhealthy relationship, death mention, depictions of murder and gore

Summary: It's the night of Wyll's charity event. Will Tav receive the answers she seeks from the Duke, or will more present themselves?

♥ Previous Chapter

♥ Link to Ao3

♥ Playlist

They descend the master staircase, Tav drawing in a shallow breath as she hits the final step. As they turn the corner, arm in arm, she realizes how unsettled she is. Astarion was so close to saying it. Admitting to what they both know to be true, only to tear himself away at the last moment.

Her throat feels tight as she tries to swallow. Should he have said it, there's no doubt in her mind as to how the night would end up. Possessed by the urge to say it back, over and over, spending half the evening wrapped in each other's arms, making up for lost time. She'd guide his hands to her stomach, foreheads pressed together, and speak softly against his lips of what lay within. Of what will be, soon enough.

None of that will happen, now.

The thick aroma of the hors d’oeuvres being served wafts through the air, pulling Tav from her thoughts. The subtle sweetness of wine is complementary, surely free-flowing like waterfalls into the mouths and bellies of those gathered within the grand hall. She can hear muffled chatter from within the ballroom, along with the occasional clinking of glasses. Drawing in a breath, Tav dares herself to stare ahead.

Astarion turns to her, and she catches him from the corner of her eye. But as Tav raises her head to meet him, he quickly adverts his gaze. He’s silent for some time beside her, save for a conveniently timed clearing of his throat. Finally, he asks, “Are you ready, my dear?” Although he continues facing forward, Tav catches stolen glances from his periphery.

She's still so very raw from their earlier bout, and the booming depth of Astarion's voice causes a shiver to run down her spine. Despite its seriousness, Tav can hear the concern laced within his tone. Her body jerks involuntarily as her nerves alight. “Yes,” Tav replies, forcing a smile to materialize on her face. She now dares herself to look upon him.

Astarion simply grunts in acknowledgement, refusing to meet her. He can't even look at me, now? she ponders to herself. A pit forms in her stomach, alongside a sharp cramp that leaves her wincing. She rests her free hand over her lower abdomen, closing her eyes as she draws another breath through her nose. Pursing her lips together, Tav breathes out. The tension pitted high within her chest unravels as the breath leaves her lungs.

But when she looks at Astarion again, she's awash with emotion once more. His jaw is taught with tension, threatening to snap. There’s a sheen over the reds of his irises, highlighted by the dull light of the candelabras lining the hallway. Tav knows this look. And as much as she'd like to blame the drink that lay heavy on his breath, she knows that isn't the only cause.

He looks far away.

Astarion only wears a distant expression when he's desperate to remove himself from the current. When his mind is elsewhere, shielding him. Protecting him until it’s safe to come back out. As if a switch has been flipped – the mask of the entertainer, the people pleaser, is falling into place. The actor is almost stage ready. To give the people what they came here to see.

The dissociation is taking root.

He's uncomfortable. Tav’s entire body shakes from the realization. What's worse is that he's forcing himself to do this. Putting himself on display for everyone, strutting around like some proud peacock for all to fawn over. Astarion once told her that a handsomely crafted face can open any number of doors. She wonders how many times he’s been forced into opening those doors. What prizes lay behind them.

Tav shutters again at the thought of all he's been made to endure. A deep ache settles within her chest, her gaze falling to the floor in front of her.

It's obvious now that Astarion was hoping for a better outcome to their earlier discussion. Perhaps a kiss or two, maybe even something more. Anything to help soothe the ache within him, knowing he was sending himself out to perform. Instead, he got the complete opposite – Tav backing him into a corner, pushing him to admit something he clearly isn't ready to share.

Doubt begins to rear its ugly head within Tav’s heart.

Maybe she should have gone easier on him. His history is complicated. Of that, she knows. There are things Astarion doesn't understand due to two centuries of indentured servitude, like emotion, and how to coexist alongside another. Perhaps she should have been more patient with him. Perhaps she shouldn't be so demanding of him. He’s trying, afterall. Isn’t he?

Her heart skips heavy in her chest – a defiant thud, then a pause before resuming its normal rhythm. Pressure mounts once more and she suddenly finds herself choking back tears as her vision clouds.

No, Tav reassures herself, screwing her eyes shut.

Astarion isn’t an innocent child needing protection behind her skirts. He’s taken lives – many, to be frank. He, himself, has died. He understands the delicate balance between the life before and thereafter, better than any mortal being could ever dream to. When Tav reopens her eyes, she lifts her head and looks straight in the direction of the ballroom. All sound drowns out from her ears. She clenches her jaw.

I deserve more. He should be more.

It's been a process, learning to give herself the grace to truly feel. Tavaria has taken the lives of so many people without second thought. Faces that are no more than blurs behind her mind’s eye, barely able to decipher one from the other. All she recalls is the incessant chanting within her mind. Scleteras’s shrill voice echoing, encouraging her to kill, kill, kill. The voices only grew louder when she found the others. Daydreams of what pretty corpses they'd make.

Especially Astarion.

She'd gotten close, one night. Did her best to warn him before the urge took her completely. All Tav remembers is writhing against her restraints as Astarion looked on. Concern clouded his visage, mixed with the smallest drop of fear. Visions danced behind her eyes, of how beautiful his flesh would look laid out within the palm of her hand as she fileted it clean off his bones. How delicious his blood would taste on her tongue. Would it run hot, she wondered? Smell of rot and decay? She'd bathe herself with his entrails, feeling impossibly close to him, but not before successfully copulating with him. A high offering to her Father, securing the next generation of cursed Bhaalspawn.

Bhaal must be furious, looking upon her now.

But that was all months ago, and she rejected her birthright. Refused to be her Father’s vessel of chaos and murder. The day she turned her back on him is the day Tavaria chose life. And to her surprise, the chanting stopped. The urge stopped. She could breathe for the first time in what was likely years.

Since then, Tav has tried her best to walk the path of redemption. She can never bring back those who have fallen victim to her sins. The young tielfing bard’s face haunts her daily, smashed beyond recognition. But she's vowed to do better with however much life she has left. To be kinder. Show the compassion she was never given to others.

She’s chosen to be a good person. That should be reason enough as to why she deserves to hear him say it. To hear from his own mouth that he loves her and not have it be a figment of her imagination.

And it's perfectly fine that she does. There's no reason to feel guilt for wanting what you deserve.

At this very moment, Tav stands next to a man that feels more like a stranger to her than ever before, all while their child grows within her. A man who wears the same face of the one she loves, yet acts so foreign to her.

She deserves to be loved in a way that is befitting of her, and she will not settle for anything less than what she deserves.

Without so much as another word, Astarion steps forward. Tav follows almost seamlessly, their arms still interlocked. They cross the threshold into the ballroom and are immediately greeted by copious pairs of prying eyes, all focused on them. Music swells from the band as they travel to the middle of the room, neither of them missing a step.

As Tav looks out into the crowd, she recognizes a few faces from her short tenure in the City Watch – noblemen and ladies all dressed in their evening best. Their silk dresses and velvet frock coats are dyed in various elaborate colors and patterns. Jewelry adorned with precious gems hangs plentiful from their ears and necks. She nods and smiles as she passes, catching more than a few people ducking their heads after making brief eye contact. Their lips move in silent chatter to one another, but Tav can imagine their conversations: one of Baldur Gate's most eligible bachelors arriving arm-in-arm with the city's hero. The same hero who left him at the moment of their triumph.

How terribly poetic.

The band suddenly cuts out as they reach the middle of the room. Astarion retrieves his arm from around hers rather swiftly, and Tav steps back. The vampire takes a quick breath, wiping his head up. Applause rings out as he then turns to address the crowd. Astarion bows repeatedly, each time in a new direction, the reception growing louder. Tav again surveys all in attendance and decides to clap in tandem, all the while retaining her best face.

The vampire lord then raises a hand – a gesture to signal the quieting of the crowd – and the applause slowly dies off. A smile is etched across his face, but it isn't his usual smile. Not the one he reserves for her. Tav shivers.

“Thank you all for such a warm introduction!” Astarion exclaims, boisterously. His open-mouthed smile stretches now across his face from ear to ear, the tips of his fangs gleaming in the light.

Do they know of his true nature? Tav wonders as his teeth catch her eye. It's a question that hasn't dawned on her before this moment. He’s not necessarily trying to hide it. Many in the city knew of Cazador, but only as an aristocrat, bred from a long line of wealth. If they do know the truth about Astarion, it doesn't seem to bother anyone much.

Tavaria again looks out among the crowd, studying them intently. Many of the ladies have fans covering their faces, though the ones who do not, Tav easily catches the barest glint of a blush sitting upon their cheeks as they watch Astarion swish about the floor. A single thread of what must be jealousy pulls tightly within her. It fades as quickly as it comes, dissolving into vapor as she releases the breath she’s holding.

Signs of Astarion's vampirism are so obvious to her, now that she's looking at him. Pointed fangs just peeking over his bottom lip as he smiles, ruby red eyes that glimmer in the light of the chandeliers, Cazador's bite scarred into the column of his throat. His complexion used to be ghastly, like that of one raised from the dead. But since the ritual, he's as pink as any mortal being. He blushes, even.

And, gods, is he handsome. More so than any other man in existence. The sharp lines of his face, the subtle bump along the bridge of his nose. Tavaria understands all too well why the women, and even some of the men in attendance, look upon Astarion with such hungered stares.

Astarion clasps his hands together. He turns again to the crowd and says, “I'm sure we all know why we're here tonight, yes?” He gives them a moment to murmur an audible response before continuing, “And, no, unfortunately it's not just for my handsome face.” The room erupts into laughter. The vampire then raises a sharp brow, mouth curling into a sly smirk.

A horrid realization comes over Tav: These people could easily be sacrificial lambs, ripe for Astarion's picking. And he knows it. Worse yet, loves it. Loves having fools wrapped around his finger.

This is Vampire Lord Astarion, the entertainer. The socialite. The deceitful. Pulling from his past life as an at-will aristocrat; as many times as his master made him perform. It's such a well-practiced act that Tav can hardly tell when her Astarion ceased and this version took over. The transition occurred seamlessly right before her eyes. And if she didn’t know him better, she’d be thoroughly convinced that this is what he truly consists of. Tav watches in awe as Astarion flits across the floor, continuing to address all before him. Not a drop of worry remains present on his face, his countenance bright and inviting.

It makes her gravely uneasy.

He lets the room swell for a moment, continuing his speech once it dies back again. “My dearest Lords and Ladies,” Astarion’s tone sends another shock wave down Tav’s spine. He speaks with the same sweetened vitriol as when they first met. Bile builds near the back of her throat, her mouth turning bitter.

“We come together tonight to celebrate one man who surely gets the job done,” the vampire continues. Astarion looks out into the crowd, lifting a hand to wave one finger. Tav follows his eyes. “One man, who puts honor and duty before all else.” Suddenly, he halts, having found his intended target, and he extends his hand. And as Tav traces his arm, she finds the man in question on the other end.

“Esteemed guests,” Astarion boasts, “it is with great honor that I introduce our man of the hour.” Astarion hesitates for a moment, the room eerily silent. He glances toward Tav; her breath hitches. She can see the contempt within his eyes, but he continues, loud and prideful. “Wyllyam Ravengard, your Grand Duke!”

Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd. Wyll, surrounded by the other members of the Watch, tilts his head politely in acknowledgement, giving several small bows. Servants then descend upon the guests, holding silver trays lined with glasses of sparkling liquid.

“And as such,” Astarion says, choosing a glass off the tray a servant presents to him, “may I propose a toast to our young Duke, who does oh so very much for his belovéd city.”

Tav retrieves a glass from a servant, giving the contents a quick whiff. Champagne, and a damned good one, too. Astarion then holds out his glass, those in attendance following suit. Silence befalls the ballroom – the only audible sound being the fizzling of champagne. All eyes are on Wyll, who stands with his own glass, ready to receive his due.

“To Wyll,” begins Astarion, “for I could have not asked for a better traveling companion during our plight against the Absolute.” His eyes are thin slits as he speaks, expression forcibly strained.

He's lying. And so brazenly.

Astarion despised Wyll during their journey. Teased him about being the golden boy, only agreeing to be a dog for Mizora due to a subconscious desire to bed the she-devil. Some, if not all in part, influenced by Tav and Wyll’s short-lived romance. Astarion’s quips escalated in intensity not soon after, and remained sour right up until the end of their adventure together.

It's unsettling to her just how easily Astarion can slip into the mask of a perfect gentleman. Play any hand to his advantage, win over even the most suspicious of individuals. Is that what he's been doing to her this entire time, she wonders? Playing a game? Is there even still a line between what's real and what's for show?

Who is this man that wears the liar’s grin so unashamedly? He wears her lover's face, but this is not him.

Unless… their dynamic has changed?

Tav finds that difficult to believe, but perhaps they've come to an understanding. Perhaps she shouldn't be so quick to judge their relationship. The men are partners now, after all. That demands some level of mutual respect.

…Right?

Raising the glass to his lips, Astarion drinks his champagne. The other occupants of the ballroom soon follow suit, as if following orders from a leader. Placing the glass to her lips, Tav tips it back just enough to make contact with her mouth before bringing it back down. She quickly scans the room – hardly anyone is looking at her. Likely no one has realized she didn't truly drink, and she sighs in relief.

Wyll then steps forward, glass still half full. He wears a white satin full suit with golden trim. His long locs are pulled back behind his shoulder in a low ponytail. A rapier sits upon his hip, swishing gently as he steps forward. “My sincerest gratitude, Lord Ancunín,” he says, taking his place by Astarion's side. The ballroom is silent again as the men stand eye-to-eye. Only the occasional sound of someone clearing their throat travels through the air.

“Truth be told, I had my doubts about Astarion when we first met.” Wyll then turns toward the crowd before continuing, “but now, through his gracious donations towards the restoration of the Lower City, I can tell his heart lies in the exact same place mine does.” He begins nodding his head, as if agreeing with himself. “The abundance of love he has for this city and her people rivals my own.”

The patrons begin clapping and Tav furrows her brow. Idiots, she sneers to herself. Astarion would sooner watch this city burn than save it, especially if it meant protecting himself. How can Wyll not see that? How can they not see it?

“And so I also propose a toast,” Wyll exclaims, holding his drink up in the air. “To Lord Astarion Ancunín, the rogue-turned-hero. An undeniable asset to this city, and someone I am grateful to call a true ‘friend.’” His face is tightly guarded, wearing a well-practiced expression. Diplomatic in nature.

The room tips their glasses once more to their lips, and Tav does the same. Again she only allows the liquid to grace her lips for a moment before bringing it back down. Her stomach lurches as she watches the two men then embrace one another.

The discontent on Astarion's face is clear to her: He wishes for nothing to do with Wyll and this entire affair. And then Wyll – precious, gracious Wyll who makes the best out of every situation – smiles brightly, genuinely welcoming of the vampire's embrace. If Wyll has any reservations surrounding their current situation, they're well hidden.

The men separate, eyes locked to one another, and Astarion raises a hand to Wyll’s shoulder. He gives it a pat, and then the two men turn toward the crowd. Applause rings out again and Astarion speaks, “I say it's about time we start this thing!”

Wyll nods, taking a quick sip from his glass. “Agreed, friend.” Their voices are loud and echo throughout the room. “Everyone!” Wyll states, “Please, enjoy the festivities! This is a night for all! Thank you!”

Astarion's hand then slips from Wyll's shoulder and he departs, but not before managing to squeeze out another smile. The band resumes playing, chatter resuming within the ballroom. Tav loses sight of the silver-haired vampire as he blends within the crowd. She bites at the inside of her cheek – Astarion is unhappy. But she can't worry entirely about him, at the moment.

Her eyes find Wyll as he crosses the room, back to the small gathering of people he was initially with: Marceline, a half-elven paladin of Lathander; Oliver, a human fighter like herself; and Lester, a high-elf who is a cross between a fighter and a mage. Together, they make up Wyll’s personal division of the City Watch.

Admittedly, Tav had found Lester’s skill quite peculiar. ‘I'm somewhat of a battle mage,’ she recalls him saying. Tav had initially laughed at the insinuation, though she soon found it to be true. One afternoon, Lester used his magic to hold his enemies in place, and then proceeded to bring his mace down hard over them. Needless to say, Tav found a new respect for the man, after that.

Tav places her still-full glass of champagne on a tray held by a servant, then smooths out her dress. Astarion had suggested speaking to Wyll, should she wish to know more about their arrangement. And as she makes her approach toward Wyll, Marceline is the first to notice.

“Tavaria!” the half-elf exclaims. She bolts over to Tav, raven hair lifting off her shoulders from the momentum. Marceline hugs her, warm and tight, nuzzling her face against her hair. Tav returns the hug, raising her arms to encircle the woman. As Marceline steps back, she says, “Gods, we were all so worried about you!”

Tav raises a brow, allowing Marceline to take her by the hand and lead her back toward the group. “What ever do you mean, Marceline?” she asks, curiously.

Marceline stops, as does Tav. As she looks at her, Tav can see the slight pull in her bottom lip. “...You didn't show up for work yesterday, Tavaria.”

Tav’s eyes grow wide with surprise. “I… I what?”

“We were going to send a patrol to your flat,” Marceline explains, resuming her initial course, “but Wyll refused to grant it.”

Tav feels herself being brought closer to Wyll; watches as his eyes land on her. Though, her mind is a million realms away. Has she really been so preoccupied that she forgot her duty?

…Has she forgotten herself?

“Ah, there she is!” Wyll states jovially, a smile stretched across his face. His demeanor is warm and welcoming. It hints nothing of him being cross with Tavaria, despite her most recent transgression.

“Your Grace,” Tavaria says with a bow. “I am so–”

“Oh, Tavaria, please,” Wyll interjects, huffing out a laugh. “We know one another far too well for formalities. Please, speak to me as you would a friend.” He brings the champagne glass to his lips. “That is what we are, yes?”

A calm falls over Tav. One would think she'd grown used to it by now, but Wyll's patience and understanding always surprises her. “Of course, Wyll,” she agrees, giving him a smile of her own. “But I am still so very sorry for abandoning my post yesterday.” She shakes her head. “I fear that I don't know what's come over me, as of late.” Not necessarily a lie.

“You ’n this fancy lord fella have history, don't ya?” asks Oliver, outwardly. He's a stoutly man, bald and fills out his dark blue suit with hardly an inch of give. His words are slurred, his cheeks red and flushed. The tone he uses is somewhat accusatory, though Tav knows him well enough to be certain he means no harm.

Despite herself, Tav cocks a questioning brow in his direction. “We do… but how do you know about that?”

“Aye, Tav,” Oliver answers with a haughty laugh, “there are sonnets written ‘bout the two of ya.” He points his glass in her direction. “Down in the brothels, the bards sing of a young woman fallin’ in love wit’ an evil prince.” Oliver nods his head. “Pre’ty sure that’s you ‘n lover boy, no?”

A scowl settles on Tav’s face. She can feel the anger rising within her. It's on the tip of her tongue to inform the man that Wyll was once the closest thing to an actual devil, though she manages to hold off. No reason to throw him under the table. “Oliver, they've sung for ages about that,” Tav bites back. “I doubt it's just Lord Ancunín and myself they refer to.”

Lester then snickers quietly, turning away as he brings a hand to his mouth. The blond is a man of few words, a stark contrast to Gale and other mages she's met. Yet when he does speak, his words carry heavy meaning. He and Tav share a sly grin. It's obvious to both that Oliver is full of drink and hardly worth the argument currently mounting.

“It's more than fine, Tav” says Wyll, finding an opportunity to break the tension. “I figured you needed a day off. You haven’t been yourself, as of late.” Wyll takes another sip from his glass. “But what I didn't expect,” he says, lowering his glass as he tips his face up toward Tav, “was to find you here.”

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Gooseflesh breaks out over her arms, quickly glazing around the room. This isn't a conversation she wants to have out in the open, especially with Astarion lurking about. Tav dips her head and asks quietly, “Wyll, may we speak privately?”

The group exchanges glances, their expressions flat. They then nod to one another, and soon Marceline, Oliver, and Lester depart toward the refreshment table at the far side of the room, each giving Tav an uptick of their head as they walk past.

“Why are you here, Tavaria?” Wyll asks sternly once the others are out of earshot. He turns his whole body toward her. “I can only assume this means you're both–”

“It's complicated,” Tav answers, quickly. Wyll’s face then falls, an exasperated sigh escaping him. She feels her stomach nearly drop through the floor. She should have expected slack from Wyll about this. Or, really… from anyone.

“I see,” he remarks, placing a hand on his hip. Wyll chokes back the rest of his champagne just as a servant passes by, and he places the glass upon their silver tray. “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asks Tav, nodding politely to the servant as they depart. “Should I remind you of what he's done?”

Tav meets the questioning gaze of the servant looking back, and they quickly duck their head. Astarion has eyes and ears throughout the entire manor – not a detail she's forgotten. Though, she screws her eyes shut and draws a deep breath in.

Wyll speaks of the ascension.

The moment Astarion, the rogue, fell and Astarion, the vampire lord, took his place. Tav still hears them, even now – the shrieking of over 7000 souls perishing from this realm, banished to the depths of the Hells.

She remembers the fire behind Astarion's ruby red eyes as he rose, as if born anew. The manic laughter that tumbled forward from his chest as he confronted Ulma, slitting her throat. The pulsing artery of her carotid bathing him in blood, flowing freely into his mouth.

She remembers the moan he let out as the woman's blood hit his tongue. The gurgling noises arising from her throat as she grew limp, falling into his arms. His body rocking in time with her twitching form as he finally sealed his lips over the wound, drawing more and more blood into his mouth.

And within moments, it was over. Ulma grew still, and Astarion dropped her to the floor in an unceremonious heap, completely lifeless. Astarion stood still for what felt like ages. The Gur who arrived with her soon fled when Astarion finally lifted his head, vowing to return with stronger numbers. And all the vampire lord did was laugh.

In the immediate aftermath, Tavaria and the others were horrified. The chance of Astarion turning on them next ran through each of their minds. Wyll vowed to stake him through the heart should he draw closer; Gale promised to cast spells to hold Astarion in place. Tav had never feared Astarion up until that point. Even with his fangs seated deep within her neck, she still trusted him to take just enough. Though, as he turned to face her, blood smeared across his face, dripping down his chin… A chill ran through her heart.

His smile is what did it. Wide, almost goofy. It was as if he expected her to be as proud as he was. Finally, after two centuries of horror, he was now the cat who got the clotted cream. And, by the gods, did it feel good.

“I remember well enough what he's done,” Tav remarks solemnly, opening her eyes. She shifts her gaze away from Wyll. “And all he continues to do.”

Wyll cocks his head upward, narrowing his eyes. “So you know?” he probes, cautiously.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Tav confirms, moving her head in agreement. “In fact, that's the entire reason I stand before you now. Astarion suggested I speak with you about what happened.”

Wyll is stoic for a moment, unwavering. Tav questions for a moment if she somehow misread the situation, but Wyll bursts into a sudden fit of laughter, placing a hand on his chest. The duke then shakes his head. “At least he's still a character,” he says, continuing to laugh. His arms fall back down to his hips. “But petty, no less. The man doesn't even have the common decency to wear a suit.” He then gestures toward Tav, hand waving up and down. “Though, he made sure you look the part.”

Heat floods her face. “H-how do you know I didn't choose this myself?” Tav argues. How embarrassing, she thinks, for it be so obvious that Astarion clothed her. Like his personal doll.

Though, much to her relief, Wyll only chuckles. “Tavaria, you are capable of many things,” the Duke says, reassuringly. “But this?” He waves his hand up and down her form again. “I don't think you'd ever choose this for yourself.” And just as Tav's heart begins to sink, Wyll adds, “It's not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Wyllyam!” she scolds through gritted teeth. Tav then scans the room, silently praying no one is eavesdropping on their conversation. “Mind yourself, please!” She can feel how brightly her cheeks now burn, and before she turns back to Wyll, Tav catches Astarion's scowling at them from across the ballroom. “I-I’m your subordinate, Wyll,” Tav states within a hushed tone. A cold chill passes over her, and she finally meets the Duke's gaze once more.

Curse Astarion's attuned hearing. He's likely heard everything they've said.

“Of course, of course,” Wyll agrees. “My apologies; I may be a bit deeper in the drink than I realize.” He shakes his head. “Right. You're here to talk about my agreement with my lovely friend, Astarion.”

A jolt of pain shoots through her chest as she feels her cheeks flush. Their performance earlier was exactly that – an act. There's still no love lost between the two men. However, it sounds even more strained, now.

Tav gives Wyll a sullen glance. “I'm sorry, Wyll. When I found those men laying in the crypts below, I demanded answers from him.” She clasps her hands over her stomach, looking down. “But he refused to tell me everything.”

“Of course he did,” Wyll is quick to remark. He shifts his weight onto one hip. “Because your opinion of him is the only one he cares for, just as it's always been. Wouldn't want to sully that, now, would he?”

Tav raises her head to meet Wyll. How much of what Astarion told her is the truth? Perhaps she knows nothing at all. Would that be so out of the realm of possibility? “Wyll, what happened that night?” she asks, plainly. “Why was Astarion even with those men?”

Wyll sighs, casting his gaze to the floor before looking back up. He clicks his tongue, placing his arms over his chest. “When I became Grand Duke, I knew one of the first things I had to do was keep an eye on Astarion.” He wags a finger in the air. “The Szarr family has been around for centuries, and is considered one of the wealthiest in all of Baldur's Gate. For Astarion, in all of his unpredictability, to inherit such an estate, alongside boundless physical powers…” Wyll seems lost in thought for a moment before he continues, “...It’s a recipe for disaster.”

Tav nods in silent agreement. She knows he isn't wrong to assume as such. Only minutes after ascending did he test the boundaries of these new abilities, much to everyone else's horror. Mere hours after the ritual is when he demanded her mortal life be given to him. Wyll was absolutely correct to not trust Astarion. A fact that's difficult to argue against.

“So,” Wyll explains further, “I invited him to Wyrm’s Crossing one afternoon and proposed an agreement: Astarion aid me in cleaning up Cazador's morally questionable affairs, and I give Astarion his privacy. No meddling in his records, nor his personal business. And he agreed.” Wyll then smiles. “But only after I made good on my promise to position patrols outside of the palace, ready to move in should I give the word.”

Tav’s eyes widen in shock. “You would have laid siege upon him?” she asks, voice quivering.

“Without question,” Wyll answers, sternly. ��Tav, I know of your history with him. I can only imagine how complicated it is now.” He leans in closer to Tav, nearly face to face. “But heed my words – the man is a devil masquerading as a man.” There's a sharp bite to his words that sends a shockwave shooting down her spine. Wyll shakes his head again. “He is not the Astarion we knew. Not even close.”

“...How can you be so sure?” Tav’s lips pull into a quirk. Astarion can't be all that horrid… Could he? Surely, she would know by now.

Wyll draws a deep breath in, releasing it with forced effort. “Cazador's depravity ran deeper than I thought. I knew the man would be involved in terrible business, but never did I think it would include the trafficking of humanoid creatures.” The Duke swallows, taking a moment of respite before adding, “I used this as leverage to broker a deal with Astarion. He'd continue business as usual, gathering sensitive information to help me build a case. And I stay out of his other affairs.”

“You used him?!” Tav exclaims, worriedly. “And with slavers, no less? Wyll, that's low! Even for you.”

“Is it crueler than Astarion forcibly taking half the city as his spawn?” responds Wyll, coldly. “I needed an in, Tav. Surely you can understand why.”

Just then, the leader of the band speaks, welcoming all to gather for their next song. Tav meets Wyll’s eyes, and he gestures toward the dance floor, holding out his hand for her. Reluctantly, Tav accepts, and they both head toward the floor.

They stand before one another, one set of hands interlocked adjacent to their waists. Tav's free hand rests atop Wyll’s shoulder, while he places his on her hip. The band then kicks in – a slow, melodic song – and the two begin to sway. Tav remembers the night they danced around the campfire together. A soft smile comes to her face, but it’s short lived.

“I'm the reason Astarion was present that evening,” Wyll continues. “But I never instructed him on how to act.” The two part as Wyll stretches out their conjoined hands, and Tav twirls under both of their arms. She returns to him, and the two spin as they glide across the floor, the hem of her skirts swaying as they go.

“He told me he had no choice but to kill them,” says Tav within a broken breath. “That they would have gotten him first.”

Wyll then chuckles, throwing his head back. “And I'm sure he's expecting me to tell you the same. But that would be too far from the truth.” Wyll then separates from her again, releasing their hands to lay his palm flat against hers. Tav then follows his lead, moving so their bodies are parallel to one another, and they walk in a circle together. “You're a smart woman, Tav. I know that as fact,” Wyll states, confidently. “Do you really think the vampire ascendant is so defenseless? That he’d find himself trapped?”

Wyll then drops his hand, holding up the opposite, and Tav does the same. They mirror their previous formation, circling now in the opposite direction. “He had every chance of escaping, had he any desire to do so,” Wyll continues, facing Tav.

Tav meets his eyes, her body almost on autopilot. A chill runs down her spine as her mind makes sense of Wyll's inference. “Wyll, are you implying–”

“That he murdered those men on purpose?” Wyll interrupts, almost emphatically. The band then slows, music winding down, and Wyll comes to stand before her. “Yes, Tavaria. That is exactly what I'm implying. Because that's exactly what happened.”

Applause rings out around them as the music cuts out, but Tav can hardly hear it over the sound of her heart hammering away in her ears. Her blood runs cold.

Wyll speaks sense; Astarion always had control of the situation. His life was never in danger. He killed those men for no reason other than he could.

A game. A way to test his new powers.

The smell of iron dancing beneath her nose pulls her violently from her thoughts. Saliva pools thickly in her mouth as she scans the room, desperately searching for the source. She gasps aloud when she finally finds it.

There, in the far corner of the ballroom, stands Astarion. His eyes are fixed on her as he raises a silver goblet to his mouth. They share a glance long enough for Tav to watch the goblet then fall away, a small bead of crimson liquid dripping down his stained lips. Astarion is quick to snatch it up with the side of a finger, bringing it to his mouth.

The smell is intoxicating, and Tav’s vision grows fuzzy. She's suddenly hungry, starved for something she knows not what. It's what happened to her at the butcher shop, but it’s worse. So much more intense now than it was then.

Astarion's tongue darts from his mouth to envelop the digit, swiping the liquid from his finger. His eyes have yet to leave hers, and Tav feels an enigmatic pull overtake her.

Is that… blood?

The urge to lick the essence from his lips swells within her. To bury her tongue as deeply as possible within his mouth, savoring every last drop of blood. To swap their tainted saliva back and forth, until the taste all but fades into nothing.

Astarion then smiles, as if privy to her thoughts. Her mouth falls open with sudden realization.

…Has she grown a hunger for blood?

“Tavaria!”

Her concentration is broken as Wyll’s voice bellows in her ears. She whips her head in his direction, staring wildly. “I'm sorry,” Tav says, rushed. She sucks in a sharp breath and screws her eyes tightly. “My mind was elsewhere.”

Wyll’s gaze shifts to the far corner of the ballroom, where Astarion stands. The two men exchange deep scowls. “I don't want to get between whatever business you have with him, Tavaria,” he says, shifting his eyes back to her. “But if I were you, I’d run.”

Tav huffs out a laugh. She then looks to Astarion and finds that despite the women who have now joined him, he's still focused entirely on them. “What do you mean?” Tav asks innocently, turning her head to Wyll. “I don't think Astarion would ever harm me.”

“You have no idea who Astarion is anymore. None of us do.” Wyll states with finality. “And I'm deeply concerned by what may become of you should you stay.” He lifts his hands then to Tav’s shoulders, and she shudders under his touch. “There will come a time when he grows bored of this game.” Wyll tightens his grip. “I don't think I have to tell you what happens next.”

Tav’s eyes grow wide.

It's… a game. Their entire dynamic is a game of cat and mouse – who can outsmart the other first. How could she have been so blind? There's no love in this. No, this is about possession. Control. Deep down, a part of her always knew that. But she didn't think it was evident to anyone else.

“Your neck, Tav – I see it.” Wyll's eyes draw tightly together, his voice dropping an octave as he tilts his head. “He's already marked you.”

Bile pools in the back of her throat again as a sudden wave of nausea rushes forward. A hand flies to her neck, covering the remnants of Astarion's bite.

Tav wants to vomit. She wants to run, scream, forget she ever let Astarion back into her life.

The realization dawns over her that Wyll is right: Astarion will inevitably force her hand, should she stay long enough. He will never let her live out a mortal life. Tav will become his puppet, his trophy. His most prized possession, completely dependent on him for sustenance. Astarion will keep her sealed tightly within this palace, never to see the light of day again. She will be expected to lay with him as he commands, satisfy him as he commands… To become completely subservient to all his desires.

She was right, and has been right this entire time. Astarion has only given her the illusion of choice, hoping that she gives into him willingly.

She feels hollow.

Tav stares blankly at Wyll, placing both of her hands over her lower belly. Her mouth struggles to form the words racing through her mind, unable to grasp them. She wants to tell Wyll everything. About her and Astarion, about the baby. He could hide her, far away from Astarion's reach. So that he could never find her or their child ever again. She knows he would.

But the aroma of a certain spiced cologne distracts her, and as Tav turns her head toward that particular corner of the ballroom again, she sees Astarion drawing closer.

Panic grips her throat, and almost instinctively she's ripping herself away from Wyll. “I–I need some air!” she shouts in his direction, briefly looking back. Wyll moves to speak, but Tav is beyond earshot.

The urge to run consumes her, but to where? She scans the room desperately, tunnel vision beginning to set in. Finally, she finds large window pane doors leading out into the garden.

Tav dares to look back and finds Astarion now chatting with Wyll. Their expressions are taut, strained – she can see Astarion's fangs under the curling of his upper lip. Her heart skips strongly within her chest, and she looks again to the French doors.

It may be futile, as Astarion can simply sniff her out should he choose, but anything is better than staying here. She may as well try. With that logic in mind, Tav makes a desperate dash towards the doors.

—----------------------------------------

Bursting out into the courtyard, Tav barrels down the stone steps. She runs into the hedges, stopping just short of a rose bush. The sound of tearing fabric rings in her ears, but she doesn't care. All that matters is keeping away from him right now.

Fearfully, she dares herself to look back to the top of the stairs. Astarion soon comes into view, surveying the garden. Though, he makes no effort to follow her. Instead, he turns, wine glass in hand, and heads back into the ballroom.

A choked sob then escapes Tav's throat. Her body is overcome by violent shaking as she drops to her knees, clutching herself. How could she have been so blind? Was she charmed? Has Astarion been whittling away at her subconscious this entire time?

Just as she feels her resolve begin to shatter entirely, Tav catches the silhouette of another standing where Astarion just was. Brown hair tied into a high bun atop the man's head, the rest flowing down his shoulders. Mauve and midnight blue evening dress, complete with a vest and jacket. He seems to be searching for something.

“Gale?” Tav questions tentatively, poking her head from beyond the bushes. “Is that really you?”

The wizard looks out into the garden, his face lighting up as he finds her. “Tav!” he exclaims, running down the steps to meet her. “I knew I saw you talking to Wyll earlier! Though, I must ask…” Gale then extends a hand to her. “...are you hiding?”

Tav pouts as she takes his hand, letting Gale pull her up. “It's a long story,” she deflects, patting herself down. There's a small tear in the dress just below her left breast, and she scowls. “I'm surprised to see you here. I wouldn't think of Astarion inviting you.”

“Well, fortunately for you, the guest list wasn't his to command.” The magician places his hands on his hips, staring intently at Tav. “But really, why are you out here? You all but ran from Wyll.” Gale then searches her up and down, bending forward and sideways. “Are you hurt? Did he say something unkind?”

Tav sighs and shakes her head. “No, no. It's nothing Wyll said.”

A blatant lie – it's everything Wyll said.

“I just needed some fresh air, that's all.” She tries her best to put on a smile, but she knows Gale doesn't buy it.

“Tav,” he states, sternly. “What's wrong? You look beautiful, yes, but I can also see that you're shaken.” He dips his head to stare up at her from under his brow. “I'm your friend, Tav. You can talk to me.”

She looks at him. Emotion swirls within her chest, and she begins to heave with heavy breath. Tears well up within her eyes, and it's not long before Tav rushes forward, throwing her arms tightly around Gale’s neck. She sobs, heavily, messily, into his shoulder.

It's cathartic – like a dam finally giving way after keeping a rushing river at bay for far longer than ever intended. She feels arms encircle her and realizes they're Gale's, prompting another rush of tears to flow down her cheeks. For the first time in months, she feels safe. She hadn’t realized she'd forgotten what this feels like, until now.

By the time Tav lifts her face, the shoulder of Gale's jacket is horribly stained. She must look like a child's painting right now, make-up askew. But Gale simply gives her a reassuring look, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve a handkerchief. “Here,” he says while holding it out for her.

And for a moment, Tav wishes she could have fallen in love with him instead.

Tav accepts his offer, muttering her thanks as she lifts the kerchief to her eyes. “I'm sorry for not having answered your most recent letters.” She then blots the skin over her cheeks, scowling as her foundation stains the cloth. “There’s so much I have to tell you, Gale. So much has happened in such a short period of time, and I've no time to process it.”

“I'm here now,” Gale states triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips. “No better time to start than the present.”

She gives a soft laugh, sniffling before she says, “I suppose you're right.” She swipes the handkerchief under her nose. “Well, for one… I'm pregnant.”

Gale doesn't answer. Instead, he cocks his head slowly to the side, eyes growing wide with surprise. “...Whoa,” he musters. “Well… That's… certainly one way to start.” He then rights his posture, shifting his weight to one side. “I… wasn't aware you were with anyone.”

“That’s because I'm not.” Tav stares at the ground, sticking out a foot to run her shoe mindlessly over the small stones that make up the garden’s pathway. “At least not officially.”

The wizard crosses his arms over his chest. “I see. Is it someone that you know?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Tav answers quickly. “We both know him quite well.” She then pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, adding, “Or, we did.”

“I think I'm beginning to understand,” says Gale with a snicker. “I can see how tensions may run high in your line of work.” Tav quirks a brow but remains silent, curious as to where Gale is taking the conversation. “And how your superior may seem like the best person to relieve them with.”

And then her mouth hangs open for a moment, dumbfounded, though she quickly gathers her thoughts to argue. “Gale, I don't think you–”

“You know,” he continues, sticking up a hand to wave a finger, “when I was at the academy, I had a professor who–”

“Gale!” Tav shouts. Heat floods to her cheeks in embarrassment. “Gods, no! It's not Wyll!” Placing her face in her hands, Tav begins to pace back and forth. A groan escapes her as she drags both hands across her face, further smearing her make-up. “Why does everyone assume I'm still infatuated with Wyll?”

Gale shrugs his shoulders. “I don't think he's that hard on the eyes.”

“He isn't!” Tav shouts again. “But, sweet Hells, he's my boss!”

“Alright, alright,” Gale holds up his hands in defeat, then crosses them over his chest. “So, if not him, then who?”

Tav sucks in a breath through her nose, exhaling slowly through her mouth. Her heart pounds against her chest as Astarion's name dances across her mind. She wants to say his name, but her mouth won't cooperate. Instead, she slowly lifts her hair, turning her head to expose the healing bite mark on her neck to Gale's curious eyes.

“That… looks like a recent bite wound,” comments the wizard, pupils dilating.

“And you would be correct,” Tav confirms, flatly.

His squints, leaning closer to Tav, then stands upright. “Judging by the spacing of the marks…” Gale says, hesitantly, “...I would say that's the bite of a vampire.”

Tav nods, lips drawing into a thin line. “Right again.”

“Huh,” huffs Gale. “But, there's only one vampire we both know.”

Her heart is pounding again, so loud it's drowning out any sound in her ears. “Indeed,” Tav agrees, willing herself to continue despite her discomfort. “And we happen to be standing in his garden.”

She watches Gale's face as it contorts, the phases of acknowledgement written clearly for Tav to see. The magician's face ranges from confusion, to shock, to acceptance, back to shock again. “Oh, Nine Hells,” Gale mutters. “...How? When?!”

Tav throws up her arms, laughing to herself. “Not sure, Gale! Because if I did, I certainly wouldn't be in this mess!”

Shame settles in. Tav’s face burns again, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Hearing these words said with her own voice somehow makes this real. Makes the empty hole within her chest ache, once occupied by Astarion. The desperate desire to be held by him, to disappear into the night and fall in love all over again.

“Gods, Tavaria… I don't even know what to say.” Gale lowers his arms to his sides, holding one hand to his hip. “How did he react when you told him?”

The air is knocked from her lungs, and Tav sucks in a desperate breath. “...I haven't,” she says, quietly.

“What?!” exclaims Gale. “Tav, you have to tell him!”

She glares at him, balling her hands into fists, shame quickly warping into anger. “Gale, if I tell him, you can kiss ever seeing me again goodbye.” She's shaking now, emotions boiling over.. “I will be his, forever, whether I want to be or not! I will no longer have a choice!”

“Oh, poppycock,” says Gale with a wave of his hand. “If there's one thing we both know about Astarion, it's that he'd never let any harm come to you. Especially by his doing.” Gale moves closer to Tav, voice dropping in decibel. His gaze remains glued to her. “Is this what you were discussing with Wyll? You know how he feels about Astarion, Tav,” says the wizard.

Tav swallows thickly. Her jaw is clenched tightly, teeth grinding against one another. “Gale, he's not the man either of us think he is,” she states, boldly. “Not anymore.”

Gale leans back with a laugh. “I somehow doubt that,” he argues, raising a hand, then both. “Sure, he's grown to be a bit of a recluse over these last few months.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Gale adds, “And the Gods only know how familiar I am with such a state. But it doesn't seem his heart has changed, when you're concerned.”

“What are you talking about?” Tav retorts in frustration. Does he mean to mock her? It's unlikely, but still infuriating how wrong he is at this moment. “Gale, he had fucking bodies in the crypts, what are you–”

“Did you ever think that perhaps Astarion sought you out again because he knew he was losing control?”

Tav’s eyes grow wide, shocked by the wizard’s declaration. “...What?” The whispered sound that escapes her throat is foreign to her. “I don't…” She shakes her head slowly in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“You're the only one he's ever felt safe with, Tavaria,” explains Gale. “Astarion never spoke to us the way he spoke to you. You two had a language all your own.”

…He’s right. Tav’s gaze wanders off toward the French doors of the ballroom. Astarion confided in her like no other. Spoke to her in a tone that was reserved strictly for her. His hardened edges gave way to a soft, pale underbelly after a time. And never to another.

The panic in his eyes as Cazador rendered him utterly helpless, entrapped within an enchantment. Desperate pleas to free him ripping through his throat. Astarion shook violently within her arms as she broke the spell, his body collapsing against hers. His nails nearly pierced the thick leather of her armor from how tightly he gripped her, and when it came time for them to separate, Astarion refused to let go.

‘Please,’ he cries softly, pupils blown wide. He's shaking something fierce, as if reliving the worst moment of his life on repeat. He clings to her forearm as she tries to stand. ‘Please, I can't, he's going to, to you, he's going to–’

‘Hush now, Astarion,’ Tav coos, trying to soothe him. She runs a hand gently through his hair and kisses his sweat-soaked brow. ‘We’re here. He can't harm you.’

Astarion turns to her. He lifts a trembling hand to her face, cupping her jaw. ‘...I don't care about what happens to me,’ he says, voice hoarse. ‘I don't want him to have you.’ His jaw cinches tight, spitting through gritted teeth, ‘He has no right.’

The magician sucks in a deep breath and brings a hand to his face, exhaling as he begins stroking his beard. “Look, if Astarion wanted to harm you, he would have done so already.” He then tosses his hand to the air, lips molding into a soft pout. “I think he's asking for help in the only way he knows how.”

Heat crawls across her skin, and suddenly the air is too hot. Tav draws in a deep breath, fanning herself with her hands. Her eyes sting from the threat of fresh tears and she once again begins to pace back and forth.

“I never wanted any of this,” she admits to Gale, looking up at him each time she passes. “Gods, sometimes I wish I chose my Father.” Tav chokes back a sob. “At least then I would never have to think or feel again.”

A moment passes before Gale says solemnly, “Pain, happiness, sorrow, bliss – emotions remind us that we're alive, Tavaria.” He shakes his head. “To deny them is to deny life itself.”

“I don't wish to argue that,” Tav replies. “I just mean–”

The words die in her throat as her eyes catch a glimpse of someone standing by the French doors.

At the top of the marble stairs is Astarion, glass of wine in hand. As he descends the steps, Tav swears there's an additional button undone on the crimson dress shirt he wears. The fabric ripples across the pale plane of his chest, moonlight glinting off the golden amulet hanging around his neck. He reaches the bottom step and takes a swig of wine before sauntering over.

“The Wizard of Waterdeep!” Astarion bellows, almost mockingly. “Fancy seeing you here.” As he comes to stand next to Gale, Tav can smell the alcohol on his breath and notes that his eyes are slightly glazed over. He fidgets to find a comfortable pose, inevitably settling on leaning to one side with his free hand on his hip.

He's… drunk. Reminiscent of the night he helped himself to a cave bear within the Underdark.

“Astarion,” Gale replies with a nod of his head. “Good to see you, too. Love what you've done with the place. It feels so much more–” Gale rolls his wrists, as if to stimulate a response, “–alive, than it did before.”

The vampire gives a soft grunt before saying, “Well, yes. That was the entire point, no?” His eyes then land on Tav, and she feels the small hairs on her arms and neck stand on end. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything?” Astarion inquires with a grin.

The ruby red of his irises burn into her despite their sheen. “Not at all,” Tav manages to reply, turning her head to Gale. “Gale and I were just catching up. I've admittedly been a poor friend,m neglecting to answer his letters.” She makes sure to give a laugh after her sentence; Astarion is studying her.

The magician’s gaze flits momentarily between Astarion and Tav before settling on Tav. “Oh, no, of course you're not,” Gale says with a chuckle, “it's no issue, really. Just happy to know you're doing well.” Tav gives him a small nod of her head, thanking him for having taken her lead. Gale returns the gesture.

“Splendid,” Astarion states flatly, albeit sarcastically. “Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I borrowed this lovely lady?” He brings his glass again to his mouth, throwing the rest of the wine back. As the cup drops from his face, Astarion meets her eyes again, brow drawn tightly together. “I’ve been looking for her.”

Again Tav and Gale share a look, and Tav nods approvingly. “N-no, of course not,” Gale stammers. “I think we're sufficiently caught up.”

“Indeed we are,” Tav comments, moving closer to Astarion. “It was a pleasure to see you, Gale. I'll do my best to be better about answering your correspondence.” She then slips her arm around the vampire's, only to feel Astarion flinch against her. “Shall we?” she then asks Astarion, giving his forearm a pat. He's tense alongside her, though he returns her gaze.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Gale,” Astarion says to Gale, turning toward the palace. His voice edges on bitter, but there's still enough pleasantry about it to be considered cordial.

Tav waves to the wizard, then follows Astarion's lead back toward the ballroom. Her stomach is in a mess of nerves and her heart is practically in her throat. Drawing a deep breath in, she manages to blink away any hint of tears forming within her eyes. The signature scent of Astarion's cologne envelops her and she clings tighter to his arm as they ascend the stairs.

Before entering the ballroom, Astarion gives Gale one final glance as he ushers Tav beyond the French doors. He then follows swiftly behind her.

“Huh,” is all Gale can mutter to himself.

#sotlc #cw: gore #pregnancy mention #tw: gale #astarion fanfic #astarion x durge #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion

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