#it could be Peanut Butter Maybe. you have no way of knowing if it's that or not. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peachypixelpop · 3 months ago

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Paws and Claws

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x curvyf!reader | smut | 6k

SUMMARY | Your dog Bert accidentally knocks up Dogpool which leads to a meet cute with an angry Wolverine.

WARNINGS | Meet cute (but make it intense) kinda enemies, to friends to lovers, mutual yearning, daddy wolverine, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humour, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, piv s*x, what refractory period? we die like men, You know he talks you through it.

RATING | Explicit

NOTES | Okay so this is my first ever Tumblr spicy oneshot, soooo thoughts and feedback are so welcome. Enjoy my loves <3

“You,” he snarled, teeth bared as he thrust what could only be described as a pot-bellied gremlin toward your face.

“Me?” you splutter, glancing between the feral-looking man in front of you and the small creature he held in his hands.

“Yeah! You’ve got some audacity coming back here after what you’ve done,” he spat, gesturing around the park while transferring the small creature to his large bicep, cradling it against his impressively muscular chest.

The ‘here’ he was referring to was your local park, currently hosting its weekly ‘Social Snout Society.’ You had moved for work, and the event seemed like a great way to meet fellow dog owners.

And in a way, it had. You’d made friends with. many of the regulars and had grown your social circle considerably. There was the sweet young couple who kept trying to set you up with their ‘friend,’ and the lovely old lady, Barbara, who always offered your dog peanut butter-filled treats.

But then, there was him. The one person you couldn’t quite figure out. He was always standing off to the side, averse to socialising, with his thick arms crossed over a plaid shirt as he watched the dogs run around. There was something about his presence—an air of brooding mystery—that made it hard to ignore him. You’d caught yourself staring a few times—how could you not? He was handsome in a rugged, roguish Clint Eastwood sort of way. But more than that, he was The Wolverine. Yes, that Wolverine—the legendary superhero from the X-Men who fought bad guys and saved the world.

Each time he caught you looking, you quickly glanced away, your face turning a brilliant shade of red as you desperately tried to distract yourself by calling your dog over.

You had pegged him as the type who would own a large, intimidating dog—a mastiff, a rottweiler, or maybe a German shepherd. So, when the social was winding down and you saw a tiny Pugese bounding over to him, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The little dog, all stubby legs and wrinkled face, leaped into the gruff man’s arms with surprising agility. Its long tongue lolled out, swiping affectionately at his mutton chops as he caught it effortlessly. The sight of this fierce-looking man cradling such a small, adorable dog was almost too much to process, and you had to stifle a laugh at the unexpected contrast.

“What’s going on?” you finally manage to ask, your voice shaky as you look at the small creature nestled against his chest.

“Listen, bub, this clueless act ain’t gonna cut it with me. You can see what you’ve done,” he said, his voice rough like gravel. He adjusted his grip on the little dog, gently supporting its neck and bum as he sat it up slightly. You leaned in, taking in the wide brown eyes that blinked up at you as the dog gave a quick yawn, shifting in the man’s arms. Its little red leather outfit was twisted slightly around its body, looking snugger than usual.

“This—” he growled, nodding toward the Pugese, “is Mary. And thanks to your sausage, she’s gonna have puppies!”

You blink in confusion. “My—wait, Bert? You’re talking about Bert?”

“Who else?” he huffed, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Your daschund knocked up my dog!”

As if summoned, Bert appeared between your legs, huffing loudly from his sprint back from Barbara, a smudge of peanut butter on his lips. He looked up at you and the angry man with a proud expression, oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

“Bert?” you repeat incredulously, trying to process the information. “But… but I swear he’s been fixed!”

“Yeah, well, he figured it out somehow,” the man muttered, still fuming. “Found out today at the vet—Mary’s knocked up, thanks to him”

You glanced at the small dog again and noticed how her little pot belly did seem more rotund than usual. She was happily wagging her curly tail, completely unaware of the drama unfolding.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your mouth as you look at the little Pugese. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“Neither did I!” he retorts, though his tone softens slightly as he sees the genuine surprise and concern in your eyes. “I mean, Mary is the last dog I’d expect to end up pregnant. She’s never even shown interest in other dogs.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. Of all the things I expected today, getting chewed out by a grumpy, muscle-bound guy over a pregnant dog wasn’t one of them.

“How do you even know it was him? There are hundreds of dogs around here”

He huffed as if appalled you would even ask that.

“How could it not be him, I’ve seen him - sniffing around her” he spat.

You side eyed Bert who had the audacity to flop on his back for a belly rub. It sounded exactly like him to your dismay.

“I honestly don’t know what to say except sorry” you finally manage wincing as Bert let out a long whine at being ignored.

“Just… keep an eye on your little Casanova,” he grumbled, rubbing Mary’s head. “We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not.”

“I really am sorry,” you say, reaching down to scoop up Bert, who was sniffing at the man’s shoes. Holding his little sausage body in one hand, you thrust a hand forward toward the man. “I’m Y/N. You’ve met Bert.”

The man eyed your hand for a second before clasping it in his own large one. “Logan,” he spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Listen, don’t worry. Bert won’t be an absent father. I’ll step up��I mean, he’ll step up—well, I suppose we’ll be there for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Mary, of course. Listen, I’m a girls’ girl, and the last thing I would do is—” You freeze as you realise you’re still gripping Logan’s large hand and shaking it like you’re sealing the most important business deal of your life. Quickly releasing his hand as if it were on fire, you take a step back and stare at the grass in embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and tried not to get lost in his warm brown eyes. “Listen, can you give me your number or something so you can keep me updated?” You asked, shifting Bert on your arm.

“I don’t have a phone,” he said awkwardly.

“Right,” you responded, feeling mortified. It seemed clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

“Okay, well, I’ll be around if you need me,” you said dejectedly. With twenty minutes left of the social, you just wanted to escape the awkwardness.

Before he could respond, you turned away and left the park, your ears burning red with embarrassment as Bert gently gnawed at your fingers.

You didn’t see Logan again, a couple of weeks had passed since the man had confronted you about Bert’s promiscuous behaviour so you were surprised to find a bright pink envelope on your floor when you arrived home from work.

🎉🐶 PAW-TEE ALERT! 🐶🎉 Hey there, Fur-tastic Friends! Guess what time it is? It’s time to celebrate the most adorable, waggliest, and undeniably cutest thing in the universe—PUPPIES! Yep, you heard me right. Wade is throwing the ultimate Puppy Shower and you’re on the VIP list. 🎉 Come dressed in your finest puppy-themed attire or don’t—either way, you’ll look fetching! 🐾 Please bring a treat for Mary, our star-of-the-show, and no, we’re not talking about your grandma’s fruitcake. 🍪 If you can’t make it, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you a selfie of me and Logan covered in puppy slobber. 📸 RSVP: Hit me up with your best bark or, if you’re feeling fancy, just send a text to [Contact Information Here]. Either way, let me know if you’re coming so we can prepare an appropriately excessive amount of dog treats and possibly a few questionable dog costumes. Pawsitively Excited, Wade & Logan xoxoxo P.S. If you think this is just a ploy to get free snacks and a chance to see Logan out of his grumpy shell, you might be right. But you’ll also be helping celebrate the imminent arrival of tiny, adorable puppies!

“Wade?” You murmured, running your finger over the red glitter hearts on the page. It made sense why Logan wasn’t single; he was undeniably gorgeous. But your brows furrowed as you tried to recall whether you had given Logan your address.

Glancing at Bert, who was sitting in front of his empty bowl and giving you a reproachful look, you sighed. “Time to step up, buddy.” You spoke to Bert, who huffed slightly in agreement and continued to paw at his dish.

When you arrived at Wade’s flat, you were surprised to realise it was only a few streets away from your own place. Bert whined softly as you lingered outside the door, feeling the weight of nerves flutter in your stomach. You could hear voices and music drifting from inside. Glancing down at your dog, you took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles on the door.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall man covered in a patchwork of scars. His expression was animated, and before you could say anything, he flashed a blinding smile.

“You must be Y/N! Come in, come in!” he greeted, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he ushered you and Bert inside.

“Thanks,” you replied, stepping into the cosy flat and carefully setting your wet umbrella near a pile of shoes and coats. Wade gave you a friendly hug as you shrugged off your raincoat, leaving you momentarily startled.

“It’s great to finally meet you!” Wade said, his tone warm and welcoming.

“You too! And, er, sorry again about the whole… getting your dog pregnant,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Pshhh, don’t worry about it! Our little Puppins is 90% G-spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later, the little tease,” Wade jokes, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh-oka—wait, Puppins?” you asked, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation.

“Yeah, Mary—Mary Puppins,” Wade clarified with a wide grin, clearly proud of the clever name.

“Ah, now Bert’s name is starting to make sense,” you mused, the pieces finally clicking together in your mind.

“Yep, it’s very on-brand,” Wade replied, a mischievous glint in his eye as he let his thoughts wander for a moment. He shook his head slightly, snapping back to the present. “Anyway,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness, “where is our little absent father?”

You glanced down, spotting Bert near your feet, his little tail wagging as if he understood that the spotlight was now on him. Bending down, you scooped up the dachshund, who was proudly sporting a tiny yellow bow tie, and handed him over to Wade.

“There he is!” Wade cooed, holding Bert up like a prized possession. “Someone went out for milk these past two weeks, huh? Poor Wolvy has been looking for your mama,” he added with a wink, turning to lead you both into the lounge.

Wade marched into the room, lifting Bert high above his head in a dramatic gesture. “Everyone, I present to you the baby daddy!” Wade declared with flair, holding Bert up like Simba in The Lion King. The room erupted in laughter and applause as the small group gathered around, showering Bert with attention and affection.

But then your attention shifted to your usual target, who was brooding near the kitchen, lingering near some red velvet cupcakes. You moved closer, your heart pounding as you took in his form that seemed to take up most of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you asked, reaching past him to grab a cupcake. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, alright. How’s it going with you?” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

“Good, great actually. Bert hasn’t gotten any other dogs pregnant,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“That’s good,” Logan replied, his tone a bit flat.

“You know what blokes are like, only thinking of one thing,” you blurted out without thinking, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth.

Logan raised a brow at you, his expression unreadable. “That right?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. To avoid saying anything else, you took a bite out of the cupcake. The texture was unexpectedly tough, and you found yourself chewing more vigorously than you’d anticipated.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, he reached out and gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“There was some icing,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, more of a rumble than his usual biting growl.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart pounded in your chest.

He held your gaze a moment longer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, that’s for dogs, right?”

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the half-eaten cupcake in your hand. “What?”

“Wade’s idea of a joke,” Logan explained, clearly amused by your reaction. “He put them out with the regular food to mess with people.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Oh my god…” you whispered, just before gagging as the aftertaste of beef hit your tongue. “Oh no, that’s disgusting!” you spluttered, wiping your mouth furiously as you tried to rid yourself of the flavour.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a grin. You were momentarily taken aback, surprised by how the smile transformed his face, softening his usual stern expression and making him look years younger.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you as your cheeks flushed a tomato hue.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a genuine grin that took you by surprise. The smile lit up his face, making him look years younger, almost boyish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you as your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Well, I guess it’s fitting. Bert and I are just full of surprises.”

“Seems that way,” Logan replied, his tone now more relaxed, a subtle hint of flirtation lacing his words. His eyes held yours, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt charged with an unspoken connection.

“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“Maybe not,” you teased back, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. The intensity of his gaze made it hard to think straight, and you wondered if he could hear your heart racing.

Logan’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he were picking up on the tension between you. But before anything more could happen, Wade’s voice broke the moment.

“Ooh, this looks all cosy, doesn’t it, Wolvy?” Wade chirped smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took in the lack of space between the two of you.

“Fuck off,” Logan muttered, his jaw clenching as he shot Wade a glare.

“Spicy, this one isn’t he? Muy, muy caliente,” Wade ribbed, his grin widening as he revelled in the discomfort he was causing.

You glanced down to see Logan clenching his whisky glass tightly, a small hairline crack forming in the glass, his expression one of barely contained irritation.

“Could you pass me the little tux behind you?” Wade asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Logan turned around quickly, grabbed the small tux, and tossed it at the scarred man without a word.

“Thanks, Peanut,” Wade winked before chasing after Bert with a mischievous glint in his eye.

As you watched Wade prance off, you noticed the pained expression on Logan’s face. Trying to smooth over the situation, you decided to make conversation.

“So… how long have you two been together?” you asked, your tone light but genuinely curious.

Logan, who had just taken a swig of his whisky nearly choked, sputtering slightly as he wiped away the spilled liquid with a large hand. “What?” he spat, clearly taken aback.

You blinked slowly, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. “Oh, sorry—I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“Listen, we aren’t together,” Logan clarified, his voice firm, though there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Sorry, I just… assumed.”

Logan shook his head, exhaling out of his nose “We just live together while I look for a new place.”

“Got it,” you replied, feeling both relieved and a little silly for jumping to conclusions. The tension between you eased slightly, though you couldn’t help but notice the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary.

You were soon swept into a whirlwind of party games organised by Wade, each one more spirited than the last. During the festivities, you met their third roommate, known as "Blind Al," though you quickly insisted on simply calling her Al. You chatted to their other friends too, laughing at some of their wild stories until your stomach got a stitch and your jaw ached.

As the evening wore on, the sky outside grew darker and darker, the stars twinkling faintly in the chilly night air. Feeling the onset of sleepiness, you decided it was time to head home. Logan, having observed your growing fatigue, volunteered to walk you back. At first, you insisted it wasn’t necessary, pointing out that you had Bert with you.

Logan, however, let out a dismissive snort at the sight of your chunky dachshund, who was currently curled up and snoozing with half his face buried in a muffin. “Seriously, you’re letting this guy be your bodyguard?” Logan remarked with a smirk.

You sighed at the sight of Bert’s icing coated snout and, realising Logan’s offer was genuine, you conceded. “Alright, if you insist.”

With that, you both left the warm, lively flat, stepping out into the crisp night air as Logan guided you through the quiet streets toward your home. The walk was peaceful, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound in the quiet neighbourhood.

When you reached your door, you lingered for a moment, cracking it open just enough for Bert to scamper inside and head straight to his bed, exhausted from the day’s excitement.

“Thanks for today. I really like your friends,” you said with a grin, noticing the unexpected softness in Logan’s eyes—a stark contrast to your initial meeting.

“Just my friends, huh?” he teased, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh yes, I suppose Mary is lovely too,” you teased back, looking up at him with a soft smile. The warmth between you was palpable, his large frame nearly filling your small hallway, making the space feel even more intimate. You could hear the faint buzz of your neighbours’ TV through the walls, a reminder of the world continuing on around you, yet in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Logan’s gaze held yours for a beat longer, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a fleeting second before he straightened up, breaking the tension just enough to breathe again. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly rough. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice softening.

As he turned to leave, you felt a sudden tug in your chest, an impulse you couldn't quite suppress. Before you knew it, you were calling out to him.

"Logan, wait."

He stopped and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension that had been simmering all evening. You took a small step closer, closing the gap between you.

"Today was... nice," you said, your voice almost a whisper now, "and I don’t really want it to end."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something much more intense. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of your hallway. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of him—something warm and earthy—filling your senses.

“It doesn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the stubble on his jaw. Logan’s breath caught at the touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

In that instant, the tension snapped. Logan closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he had been holding himself back. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, your heart racing as you responded with equal fervour.

The world around you blurred as all your senses focused on the feel of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, the roughness of his stubble against your skin. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—like he was claiming you, yet with a surprising gentleness that made your knees go weak.

You felt the arms round your waist pull you closer to his solid body, causing you to whimper and him to slip a tongue gently into your mouth.

You broke apart just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other as you both struggled to steady your breathing. Logan’s hands were still on your waist, his grip firm yet comforting, grounding you as you struggled to level your breathing.

“Come inside,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your hand slid from his jaw to rest against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Logan hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read what you truly wanted. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, almost teasing smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

You stepped back, pulling him gently inside your flat, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded louder in the quiet of your home. The cosiness of the small space wrapped around you both, the warmth and intimacy of it only heightening the tension that hummed between you.

You took his hand, guiding him deeper into the flat, past the soft glowing lamps outside and Bert who was already snoring softly in his bed, oblivious to the charged atmosphere filling the room.

Logan’s gaze was intense as he followed you, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. When you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him again, your heart in your throat as you searched his face, wondering if this was really happening.

Logan’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, slower this time, savouring each moment. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, the feel of his solid frame against yours grounding you even as your head spun.

Without breaking the kiss, Logan’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backward toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding with anticipation and need, the heat between you building with every passing second.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sank down onto the duvet, pulling Logan with you. He followed without hesitation, his body covering yours as you both tumbled onto the bed, the kiss never breaking, never slowing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, marvelling at the feel of him—so strong, so present, so overwhelmingly real. Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through you as his hands began to explore, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in the most delicious way. The sensation was electrifying as you gulped back another whimper as his tongue slipped back into your mouth, tasting the whisky on his lips.

As he slowly begins to undress you, You feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability as he unzips your last article of clothing and pulls your skirt down. Sensing you freezing he stops.

“Hey, where did you go bub?” He whispers, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“It’s just, er, been a while and I've put on a bit of weight recently” you mumbled, unable to hold his gaze.

Logan paused, his hands gently resting on your hips as he looked at you, his brow furrowing with concern. The intensity of the moment faded slightly as he took in your words, understanding the vulnerability you were feeling. He tilted your chin up softly, urging you to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised you. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re beautiful, just the way you are.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his words sinking in. It had been so long since anyone had looked at you like this, let alone made you feel beautiful. Logan’s eyes were full of warmth, no judgement or hesitation, just blown pupils and an open gaze that made your chest tighten and your panties soak.

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’re perfect, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through you. “Every inch of you.”

His words were like a balm, easing the anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands held you with such care.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, grounding you in the moment. You felt the tension in your body slowly melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest, as your heart started to race with excitement rather than fear.

You took a deep breath, letting the anxiety flow out with the exhale, and nodded slightly. “I just… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.”

Logan’s expression softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get that,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “But you don’t have to worry, not with me. I’m here, and I see you. All of you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hands moved with reverence, as if he was rediscovering every part of you, appreciating each touch, each breath, as if it was a gift.

Logan pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of quiet reverence. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, but if you want to stop I will respect that, what do you want?”

“No I want this, I want you Logan.” You whispered, biting your lip.

He leaned forward to kiss you again before pulling away your skirt and panties. He groaned at the sight of you glistening and swollen. “God you are incredible sweetheart” he groaned before leaning down.

“I wha-” You started before cutting yourself with a loud moan as he swiped over your clit.

He drank from you like a man without water. The silence of the room is broken by the sound of his slurping and suckling. “I’ve been smelling you for weeks and you taste even sweeter than I imagined’ he whispered against you.

Unable to answer him you continued to pant as he greedily ate you out. Grunting like an animal, his oral could only be described as animalistic as he pushed you towards that high. It was only when he added two thick fingers did you begin to wail as the stimulation overwhelmed you.

“That’s it sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, let go for me” He grunted as he continued to eat you out, the prickle of his beard between your thick thighs adding to the sensations as he rubbed his face into your pussy.

When he crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion that hit that sweet spongy spot inside of you. Something snaps inside as you whimper his name and come panting and wiggling on his face.

As you came back to yourself you let out a whimper as you saw him smugly looking at you from between your thighs. Slowly rubbing you as you came down from your high.

Standing up, you have to resist the urge to whine at the lack of fullness you feel and spy him suck his glistening fingers. As Logan swiftly removed his clothes, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his body was beautiful, all toned muscle and solid mass, every muscle defined and glistening under the soft light. The intensity in his eyes never wavered as he tossed his shirt aside, revealing the expanse of his toned chest.

He moved with purpose, crawling onto the bed towards you like a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, each one making your pulse race. The heat between you was palpable, electrifying the air as he inched closer, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sheer magnetism of his presence drawing you in, making you feel both excited and slightly nervous.

When he finally reached you, his large hands framed your face as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, full of the passion you had felt building between you all night.

“I’m on the pill” You blurted out as he pulled back and you watched as his pupils dilated wider.

“You sure bub?” he questioned.

You nodded fervently as a surge of confidence rushed through you and you pushed him back onto the mattress so you could climb on top of him. It really was unfair, he made it look so natural as he laid back on the duvet like a modern day adonis.

Logan cursed when you sank on top of him. It took a few moments for you to be fully seated. When you were, you took a slow and deep breath as you felt his entire length inside of you. You had never felt so full.

You wiggled your hips slightly as you tested the length of him inside you and his hands shot out to grip your soft hips.

“Just a second darlin’” He growled, his face looked strained as he held you in place.

“If i’m too heavy we can turn over” You spoke shyly conscious of how he seemed to grip tightly at your hips.

He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth “No, No, It’s not that darlin’ you’re just so tight” He muttered before starting to thrust at you.

You bit back a moan as you rode him. Large hands guiding you up and down as you bounced up and down, his cock rearranging your insides to make room for him, all of him.

Leaning forward he took one of your nipples in his mouth and gently nibbled and sucked on it before moving on to the other one. You were unsure of how much time had passed but you soon found yourself coming on his cock.

Unlatching from your nipple his hands went to your ass, taking over moving you as you came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl taking all of me” he rumbled before flipping you over and pushing your knees back to your chest.

In this position he felt even deeper inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way and nudging the spongy wall of your cervix. “Logan” you whimpered as you pulled him forward to kiss his lips as he lazily thrust into you stoking the fire in your stomach again. Wrapping your ankles above the curve of his ass you dreamily sighed into his mouth as the taste of whisky hit your tongue.

Your skin was damp with sweat as you clung to him desperately as his thrusts built up again.

“Think you can give me another one darlin’?” he questioned after he broke away from your lips and started kissing down your neck nibbling as he went.

At this point you were on fire, legs numb and eyes rolling back into your head. You felt like he had taken everything from you, yet, as his fingers rubbed over your clit a spark shot through you as you keenly lifted your hips upwards to his barraging cock.

“That’s a good girl, gonna fill you up” He grunted, taking the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit and pressing down on your abdomen to make the space inside you even tighter.

“Logan, I’m close” You whimpered at the stimulation. The sounds of his animalistic grunts and squelching filled the quiet room.

“That’s it darlin’ come all over this cock for me” he growled as you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as you spasmed around him, muscles pulling him in as deep as possible. Hips stuttering, Logan followed you into your release pumping you full of his thick spend. You could feel the heat of it filling you up as some of it leaked out of the sides of his cock, your body simply incapable of holding the sheer volume of it.

Rolling to the side he pulled you with him to lay on his chest as his cock stayed nestled deep inside of you twitching occasionally with the odd spurt, not quite finished filling you up. You hummed gently against his chest as his arms circled around you, warm and safe.

"You okay, bub?" Logan grumbled softly, his deep voice carrying a warmth that sent a wave of comfort through you. He gently smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from your face, his touch tender against your skin. You sighed happily, nestling into the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad Bert knocked up your dog,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips. The absurdity of the situation, which had once felt mad, now seemed like the best thing that had ever happened.

Logan’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, who would've thought?" he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile. He reached down, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek.

You shifted slightly and froze. Eyes widening in realisation at what was happening.

“Logan…are you still?”

“Let’s hit number four” he growled.

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine

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sunnitheapollokid · 2 months ago

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ੈ♡‧₊˚ you got blood on your shoes.

a five hargreeves long fic . . 🚇♠️

context : five had been looking for an escape from the timeline subway for over a year, and upon finding a girl in one of the other timelines, he realizes — maybe he didn’t want to find his way back home anymore? ᡣ𐭩

warnings : just some cursing .ᐟ

author’s note : THANK UUUU FOR THE LOVE ON THE FIRST ONE 🙈 you guys r so sweet <3

6 months. it had been 6 months since five saw his family. he scavenged through the depths of the subway trash can for any source of food. anything to keep his going for the next week. he sighed, then jotted down some writing on his notepad. it helped him keep sane.

he hopped on the next train again, the heavy messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. he sat, and waited for the next stop, anxiously tapping his foot on the ground as he watched the window. not like it really showed anything.

he felt his eyes grow heavy, and he fell asleep just minutes later.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ 🚇

the brunette felt the train stop, causing him to wake up. he raised his head up to look at wherever he had arrived to. he walked out of the subway train, and it looked, much more cleaner. cleaner than any of the stations he’d been in.

he looked around the dark station a little more as he wrote in his notepad, surprised that the pen he had brought from his own timeline was still working. as he looked around, he halted at a lit-up vending machine. real food, finally. he tried to look in his messenger bag for any coins he’d picked up before, lucky enough to find a few crumpled dollar bills.

he slipped the paper money in a picked out a peanut-butter chocolate bar — and he waited. but after a few minutes passed by, he realized it wasn’t going to come down. out of annoyance, he kicked the machine, punched the side, and practically bullied the candy filled mechanic.

“you know that’s not going to work.”

he moved his head to the direction of where the voice came from. there stood a girl, she looked young. around eighteen or twenty. she had a dead-panned and bored look on her face, her right hand embraced the handle of a worn out axe.

five stared at her, before flickering his eyes at her weapon. panic rushed over his body, he stepped a few feet away. he could easily beat her in a punching match, but he didn’t have that kind of energy to win. “relax,” she rest the axe on her shoulder and took out a few dollar bills of her own.

she put them in the machine and picked out the same chocolate bar. to her luck, it had fallen down the slot. she picked it up and extended her hand with the chocolate bar in it. five only stared at it. “what? don’t you want it? you look like you need it.” and she flashed him a devilish smile.

he stared at the ground, her shoes. the black converse was covered in red liquid — blood. who was this girl? why was she holding an axe? why was there blood on her shoes and face? how did she get here?

“if you don’t want it, i’ll eat it.”

“ — you have blood on your shoes.”

she stared back at him, then down to her chucks. “i’m aware.” she replied with the same smile. five took the candy bar from her and returned the smile faintly. “thank you.” her smiled deepened, “of course.” she turned to walk away, but he stopped her.

“uh wait,” she stopped her tracks, and turned her head to him. “yes?” he licked his lips, “how did you get here?” he asked her. she parted her lips, in attempts to respond but she swallowed back. “um.. i don’t know if i can answer that.” she gave another grin, but it was sadder.

then he noticed the symbol on the top corner her short black dress. it was the commission’s. “you’re from the commission.” he locked eyes with her. her eyes grew wide, her lips parted again in a sense of wanting to say something back. “and you’re five hargreeves.”

his name slipped out of her mouth like honey. “i’m (name). (name) (last name). i was recruited a year after you left.” she flexed her fingers on the axe handle. “i was sent here to um.. assassinate someone.” he licked his lips again nervously.

“you don’t like it, do you?” he asked her. she broke eye contact — flexing her hand on the axe handle again. “i don’t like the smell of blood. i don’t like the taste. i don’t like seeing it on my shoes. on my hair. on my clothes.” she continued. he started to feel sorry for her, he watched her sit on the steps, putting the weapon down beside her.

he walked closer to her and kicked the axe away. five sat beside (name) and handed her a half he’d broken off for her. “eat. you look like you need it.”

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ 🚇

it was impulsive, but (name) had decided to follow five right then and there. they shared the same trauma and experiences working in the commission, and they were like two puzzle pieces together.

she wanted to have a normal life. a normal life like the way five described it. she learned he started working for the government, and his favorite thing was espresso in the morning. she learned about his family, and how a family actually works. he taught her alot, and she was extremely grateful for him.

they could’ve used the briefcase she carried with her sure, but it only sent her back to the commission. not anywhere else. she helped him search for a way back to his original timeline. and just like how he’d taught her many things, she’d taught him things too.

(name) was bright. she was a joy, despite everything she’d gone through and the things she’s seen. she’d taught him the greatest thing of all. being love in a world of cruelty. she’d chosen to be sweet, to be kind. when the world wasn’t to her.

and seven years later, they found a greenhouse to stay in and a cute little cottage.

“sunshine? where’s the hose?” five called from the greenhouse, inspecting the strawberries. “under the white table, fives.” she responded. she followed him out with his cup of coffee, “i finally mastered your recipe!” she smiled in victory. “oh, that’s great hon.” he took the warm drink.

upon seeing her walk away, he made a sour face and giggled at her attempt and the thought. “i saw that!” she cried. he chuckled louder, walking towards her spin her around slowly. “maybe you’ll get it next time.” she slightly pouted at him. she cupped the side of his face and pressed their lip together for a short kiss.

“i think you’re just too picky with your coffee, sweetie.” she commented. “it’s not that hard to get my coffee preference.” he shrugged, his hands embraced her waist. “oh whatever.” she sassed with a bright grin and a hearty laugh. he looked down at the ground to look for the hose, his eyes wide at her clean chucks.

“you cleaned them?” he asked her. (name) nodded pleasingly. “they could use it. i missed them.” she winked at him, he laughed. “dunno. kinda liked the blood. had edge.” she rolled her eyes. “edge my ass.”

he gasped, “woah! language!” he shared a laugh with her as she lightly nudged him on the shoulder. “weirdo.”

#sunni’s writing ୨୧ * .#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #tua five #tua s4 #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves fic #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #five x reader #number five

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deadsetobsessions · 9 months ago

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Danny is desperately running away. Not from a robber, they’re not much of a threat to him anyways, but from a really intense Batman.

“Oh my ancients,” he muttered as he sprinted away from the dude swinging above him. “Can you please go away?! I already paid you back, dude!” Danny raised his voice at the swooping figure above him. He wished he could go ghost, but that would break his cover so fast as a “meta” or whatever.

“Stop running,” Batman landed in front of him, growl reverberating around them.

“Stop chasing me then! It’s bad manners!” And Danny’s from the midwest, so that’s an actual concern.

“How did you find Two-Face?” Batman loomed before stepping back when Danny’s shoulders curled inwards.

“Oh. Is that what this is all about?” Danny huffed. “It was self defense! And… the pun was too good to not, you know? Yeah, no, I had to. Prime opportunity.”

The cowl might hide it but Danny always knew when people are doing that nose pinch of exasperation. It’s a talent he carefully cultivated through shenanigans and puns.

Batman? Definitely inwardly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How did you find him? Harvey Dent is a dangerous criminal.”

“In my defense,” Danny started, like a teenager caught guiltily shoving the entire cookie jar into his room instead of leaving some for the rest of the family. “He found me first. Well, no, he found the kids first. He started it!”

Batman somehow raised an eyebrow. How the hell does he do that?? The cowl covered the entire upper half of his face! Danny squinted at him. Is Batman a meta?

“Listen, I didn’t start it, but my sister sure as heck taught me how to end it. It’s not my fault Dent couldn’t handle a beat down. And I told you I was gonna pay you back for that one (1) Big Dent! If you wanted cash, you should have said so!”

“Hrm.”

Maybe it was the fancy gear. Maybe it was the pointy head thing. Batman reminded Danny way too much of Vlad and he got the ick.

“Okay, well, good talk, bye!” Danny ducked and ran, faster than he had before.

Batman grappled up and forward, trying to grab him. Danny, with years of dodge training under his belt and impeccable teenage instincts of gtfo, managed to dodge Batman’s reaching hands with a hollered “OPE!”

“Bye! See you never!” Danny ducked behind an alley and turned invisible as Batman swooped past.

When he was sure the vigilante was gone, he slowly faded into the visible spectrum.

“Jeez. Better warn Amy about this. Maybe I should hide in Crime Alley until this blows past.”

——

Gotham’s underbelly had a new tale to sling around their bars that week and a new demographic to be wary of.

The Terrors, the kiddie gang that ran perpendicular to Crime alley, was preyed on by Harvey Dent.

“What do you think you’re doing to them?!”

“Ahhhhhh!!!” Harvey screamed, flailing as a creature of shadows and claws- god damn those sharp ass claws- descended upon him, scarring it just one side but both sides of his very vulnerable face!

“Back the hell off of my kids, you fashion reject!”

As for Harvey… well, he’s developed an aversion to the smell of peanut butter and small children.

——

Batman, hunting down Danny because he’s worried about the endangered meta kid: you left me a Dent.

Danny, because he sees a vigilante bum rushing him: I have no cash! That’s the only way I can pay you back rn!

——

Batman, trying to lecture Danny about safety because he’s a worried batdad:

Danny: ew a rich stalker trying to be my dad!

@tricksterwitchkat can you tell I’ve been thinking about your pun for days? This is for you, thank you so much for that pun, it made my entire week.

#batman #danny phantom #bruce wayne #dc x dp #harvey dent #two face #two face is not having a good time #Danny and his little sister’s kiddie gang #bamf danny phantom #ope being a thing I’ve heard midwesterners say #I think

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natromi · 3 months ago

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Flowers Help A Girl Out

Prompt: “I got you flowers..”

Natasha Romanoff, the scariest assassin, is not so scary when she's next to you, watching a movie wrapped around you. Even less scary when she's conflicted over what to gift you for your first date.

Warnings: Absolutely none. Pure fluff. Soft clueless Nat needs to be appreciated!!

Word Count: 340, to be honest it feels like more lmao

Natasha struggled to understand how gifts worked. Would you like chocolates? Or flowers? Or maybe you didn't like gifts at all?

...Okay, maybe, she might have been better off asking you what you liked for reference, saving her the embarrassment of looking through the grocery store, overwhelmed by the amount of things she could gift to you. But that would've ruined the whole thing, wouldn't it? She wanted it to be secret, wanted it to surprise you, and asking you would be no fun.

If she could, she would've gifted you the moon and everything you asked for after, in that order, so that you'd know how much you meant to her, but alas, she could not get the moon anytime soon, and the deadline was for tonight. At last, she chose the flowers, the same colour as your eyes as she drove back home.

You both had planned to go on a film binge watch, a date you called it. She had never been to a date, so to say she was anxious would've been an understatement. Sure, she had been on dates, technically, but none were meaningful to her, and all were for missions she didn't want to do. This one was genuine, this one she wanted to do with her whole heart.

As she arrived, she saw you all ready for the date, an excited smile on her face as she closed the front door and placed her shoes near the entrance, making her way over to the couch, where you were, as she sat down and pulled the flowers.

“I got you flowers..“

With an anxious smile she waited for your answer, her eyes sparkling with the soft lightning from the window's moon as you accepted the flowers and gave her a hug. Soon enough you both would be cuddling and everything would be alright.

She loved you more than she loved looking at the stars on a cold night. More than she loved Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches on a relaxing day. She loved you.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #scarlett johansson #fluff #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natasha x gn reader #natasha romanoff x gn reader #preferably read as wlw but I'm not stopping you #marvel fanfiction

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p0orbaby · 3 months ago

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So Boyfriend

summary: alessia is the poster girl for chivalry

warnings: none!

a/n: the minimum expected behaviour in any relationship, if you ask me

word count: 1.6k

Alessia’s wearing that black Adidas tracksuit again, the one that should probably have its own spot in the wardrobe by now, considering how often it makes an appearance. You’re not sure what her deal is with that thing. It’s like she’s conducting some kind of long-term experiment to see how many days she can wear it before it becomes a sentient being. But, somehow, it always looks crisp, like it’s just been peeled out of the packaging.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, legs spread wide like she’s declaring ownership of every square inch of space. The air around her practically vibrates with readiness, like she’s an overzealous butler trapped in the body of a world-class athlete.

You watch her, knowing exactly what’s coming next. She’s eyeing the cupboard, which is already funny because you’re not even hungry, but you know if you so much as glance at the counter, she’ll be up and rifling through shelves like a one-woman search-and-rescue operation. You could have sworn you saw her measuring the exact amount of peanut butter left in the jar last night, like a tactical mission was involved.

If there’s a minute, microscopic part of her brain that suspects you’re craving peanut butter on toast, she’ll know before you do.

And sure enough, Alessia is up before you can even think of saying, “I’ll get it,” moving towards the cupboard like she’s executing a flawless play. She grabs the jar and hands it to you like she’s presenting a hard-won trophy, her eyes bright with that stupid, beautiful grin. You stare at her, trying to remember why you ever thought her overbearing attentiveness was annoying.

You manage a “Thanks,” which comes out more as a croak because, well, what else can you say when you’re so completely outmatched in the whole ‘being a decent human’ department?

Then, like clockwork, she’s clearing the table. It’s your turn, obviously, but Alessia’s got this compulsive need to do things for you, like it’s a moral imperative. You know it’s coming—the way she’ll rinse the plates with one hand while gently nudging you out of the way with her hip, so casual and practiced, like it’s something she’s been doing her whole life. You’re just standing there, one hand holding the peanut butter jar, the other uselessly hovering in the air, like a mime who’s forgotten their routine. The sound of running water and clinking dishes fills the kitchen, and you’re left marveling at how domestic she makes everything feel, how easy it is for her to slip into this role without a second thought.

And here’s the thing: you should be annoyed. It’s your job to do the dishes tonight. You should be doing something about it, like grabbing a towel or, at the very least, half-heartedly protesting. But you’re not. You’re just… watching. You’ve seen this movie a hundred times, but it’s so ridiculous you can’t help but watch again. You’re transfixed by the way she stacks the dishes like they’re precious artifacts, not remnants of your poorly executed attempt at dinner.

When she’s done, she turns around and hands you your phone. It was on the counter, and you weren’t even thinking about it, but of course, she noticed. Of course, she knew exactly when you’d need it. It’s like she’s a mind reader, but only when it comes to the most mundane, everyday things. Like there’s some part of her brain solely dedicated to making sure your phone is fully charged, your favorite snacks are within reach, and that you never run out of clean socks.

You should say something, maybe tease her a little, but you don’t get the chance. Alessia’s already moving on to the next thing—turning off the lights, checking that the stove is off, securing the perimeter. You half expect her to pull out a checklist and start ticking off boxes. Instead, she turns to you, that lopsided grin still plastered on her face, and before you can even think, she’s pulling you in for a kiss.

It’s not just any kiss. It’s slow and soft, the kind that says, Hey, I’ve got all the time in the world, and I’m spending it right here, with you. You melt into it, feeling every ounce of tension you didn’t know you had drain away.

When she finally pulls back, she’s still smiling, and it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’ve just won something. Like maybe you’ve won her, but that can’t be right because it feels more like she’s the one who’s been winning you over, inch by inch, every single day.

Then, because apparently, she hasn’t done enough for one evening, she suddenly suggests, “Let’s go for a walk.” It’s not a question, really. She’s already grabbing a hoodie, even though it’s the middle of summer and the night air is perfectly warm. She throws it over your shoulders, and you know you’re going to sweat through it, but you don’t care.

She makes sure to lock the door behind you, even though you’re only going for a quick loop around the block. Alessia does that—locks up, checks windows, and generally acts like you live in a crime-riddled part of town. Even though you both know the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in your neighborhood is when Mrs. Patterson’s cat got stuck in a tree. And even then, it was a small tree, and the cat was more annoyed than scared.

As you start walking, she naturally takes the side closest to the road, like she’s in some 19th-century novel, guarding your virtue against runaway horse carriages or something equally absurd. You used to roll your eyes at this, but now it just makes you smile, like maybe there’s a small part of you that enjoys being taken care of in this overly dramatic way.

The night is quiet, the kind of quiet that’s comforting rather than eerie. Alessia’s arm slips around your shoulders, her fingers tracing the back of your neck in a way that sends little shivers down your spine. You sigh, and it’s not a sigh of exasperation; it’s the kind of sigh that comes when you’re trying to pretend you’re annoyed but you’re really just a puddle of feelings because she’s doing that thing again—making you feel like you’re the center of the universe.

You keep walking, letting her guide you down familiar streets. She opens the gate for you, then the door to the local café, where the barista already knows your order, thanks to Alessia’s meticulous planning. You’re not sure how, but she’s managed to get everyone on board with this whole ‘make everything perfect for you’ campaign, and honestly, it’s a little terrifying.

You sit down at your usual table, and she insists on ordering for you, even though you’re perfectly capable of speaking for yourself. But there’s something about the way she does it, with that confident ease, like she’s been rehearsing this role her entire life, that makes you just let her.

She returns with your drink, carefully placing it in front of you, making sure it’s exactly the way you like it—extra foam, no sugar, just a hint of cinnamon. You didn’t even know you liked cinnamon until she started ordering it for you.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you finally say, and she just shrugs, that lopsided grin never wavering.

“I just want you to be happy,” she replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it is, to her at least.

As you sip your drink, you watch her, watch the way she’s always so effortlessly present, always making sure you’re taken care of, and you realise that this is what it feels like to be loved so completely, so utterly, that it’s almost overwhelming.

It’s the little things she does, the way she’s always three steps ahead, always thinking about what you might need before you even know you need it. It’s the way she’s somehow managed to turn your entire life into a series of moments where you’re constantly cared for, constantly looked after, without ever making you feel smothered.

And maybe you’re starting to like it, more than you ever thought you would. Because being with Alessia is like being in a story where you’re always the main character, and she’s the one making sure the plot unfolds exactly the way it’s supposed to, with all the right twists and turns, and just enough drama to keep things interesting.

As you leave the café, Alessia’s arm finds its way around your shoulders again, guiding you back home, and you let her, because it’s just easier that way. It’s easier to let her do all the little things she does, the things that make you feel so loved and cared for, because deep down, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you finally get back, she unlocks the door, checks the windows again, and makes sure everything’s in its place. She pulls you in for another kiss, this one a little more urgent, like she’s trying to communicate something she can’t quite put into words. You kiss her back, letting her know you understand, that you get it, and that you’re not going anywhere.

You lie down together, her arm draped over you, and as you drift off to sleep, you realise that maybe this is what it’s all about. Maybe this is what it means to be truly, deeply loved—having someone who’s always there, always ready to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay, to make sure you’re happy. And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to believe that you deserve it.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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rueclfer · 28 days ago

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heyy there can i request some more touya headcannons? i really enjoy your way of picturing him because it’s just so canon and he’s kinda a lovely dick y’know. whatever comes to ur mind. thank u so much!!

weelll since you gave me so much freedom here r some touya as a housemate hcs ANNDD a moodboard bc i enjoy the visualization <3 since we talked abt this the other day too !! (i yapped so hard here sry sry this is so indulgent)

bakugou's and sero's version too hehe

housemates // touya todoroki

touya hates the idea of living with a complete stranger or one of his siblings, so what other option does he have other than forcing his best friend (crush) on a lease with him?

the newfound freedom definitely puts him on his ass for a few weeks. barely sleeps. eats like shit. trash is scattered everywhere. several unpacked boxes. it stays like this until fuyumi comes over to check our the place and gives you two a hard scolding to get your shit together.

more often than not, you'd end up waking up on the couch with your legs sprawled out across his lap and his upper half leaned over the couch arm rest in deep sleep. staying up so late was probably one of his favorite things about living together. being able to talk as loud as you wanted, watch movies late into the night, look over the city from your balcony- he found solitude in existing with you.

if he wasn't already codependent before moving in together, just know his ass will be GLUED TO YOU. you'd be doing work in your room and he'd barge in and flop down on your bed without a word. maybe he'd gotten a bit too comfortable.

if he's feeling extra annoying that day, he'd bring in his guitar and amp and keep asking you to rate his riffs until you entirely give up on work and give him some attention.

is it obvious his love language is quality time? not only that, gift giving too. he's like a fucking crow.

"look what i found. it's a rock. for you."

makes him soooo giddy to see your display of the rocks, feathers, and dried up flowers he picked up for you on his walk. sometimes you'd come home and there'd be a new addition to the ever growing collection.

ofc you'd return the energy in a different way. touya will not cook for himself. ever. he eats like shit as an internal rebellion against the healthy diet he was forced upon as a kid, but you will not allow that boy to rot himself from the inside out!! he can expect several tupperwares of portioned out meals with notes attached to the lids if you know he'd be home all day by himself.

"to t <3. if you don't eat every last bite i'll find out and it'll hurt my feelings and i might combust into flames or something idk don't risk it!"

i can also imagine him holding back tears whenever you ever come into his room to hand him a bowl of cut up fruit. the first time you do it he'd be speechless like jaw dropped taken aback. has he ever felt love like this??? i think not.

despite all of the kind gestures, he's still touya todoroki. hides your keys if you annoyed him that morning by rushing him in the bathroom and makes you a few minutes late to class/work. chronic door slammer. pisses with the door wide open. no sense of privacy and do not gaf to knock. always locking himself out -> i feel strongly about this like imagine coming home after a long day and he's sitting out in the hallway with a pouty face waiting for you hehehe.

i don't think he'd realize this crush until a few months after you've moved in together. how could he when you two practically already act and bicker like an old married couple?

yes- peanut butter belongs in the fridge. no- it doesn't. stop leaving your socks everywhere. you forget to flush again. stop slamming the doors. you ate my chips, didn't you? don't lie. did you really need to put the mugs up that high? (he does it on purpose, and tightens the lid to every jar too.)

it wasn't until one late evening when he comes home to find you frantically mixing a doughy substance in a large metal bowl. you never bake, but you have your own oven now, so why not?

"god, finally. help me, my arms hurt." you groan, shoving the bowl in his hands. "i think i fucked up."

he sees the hurricane aftermath of your kitchen- flour everywhere, egg shells left on the counter, every single jar imaginable opened and scattered around. he could be teasing you about the mess, but god you looked so beautiful with that stupid wrinkle in between your eyebrows as you read over the recipe, and the streaks of flour across your pant leg from wiping your hands, and the way you swipe away the stray pieces of hair falling in your face with the back of your hand- oh fuck.

he thinks he's falling in love with you.

he swallows it, but he starts acting kinda weird around the apartment.

like he's.... avoiding you?

living with his best friend whom he just so happens to develop a crush for, would eat him alive. he locks himself in his room and chain smoke out his window while he's stressing the fuck out. he told you he'd stop smoking, but he's sure you'd understand the need for it right now. he hopes you can't smell it.

i also think he'd be a stress cleaner lmaaoo he cannot sit still with his thoughts for too long, so the headphones are ON and blasting and he'll definitely use that as a scapegoat + the loud ass vacuum for ignoring you if you try to talk to him while he's on this cleaning frenzy.

you think he's sick LMAO imagine the pain he feels when you come knocking on his door and calling out that you're leaving a bowl of soup and cough medicine outside his door for him. he doesn't tell you that yeah he's sick but *not in that way*

lovesick. that boy is lovesick!!!!!!

how do you avoid your housemate while you figure out how to control your feelings?

he confesses via note that he leaves on the kitchen counter. really simple tbh nothing too extravagant, but he signs off by telling you that he's staying crashing at fuyumi's for a couple days.

you text him a string of obscenities to get his ass back home and he does (he's scared of you).

he CAANNOOTT talk about his feelings in an adult way. he is sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, twiddling his thumbs, and staring down at his feet like a child while you reread his confession note out loud to him. you find his discomfort hilarious but endearing. he finds you unbearably insufferable.

jesus the amount of times in that apartment where he would storm off to his room whenever you two got in an argument or you pissed him off...old habits die hard, you guess, because this isn't the todoroki household anymore and you aren't scared to lose that deposit and kick a door down.

once you corner him and get him to open up about his feelings the air in the room suddenly shift!! the clouds are clearing and the sun is shining woooowww look at what good communication can do.

sharing an apartment with your BOYFRIEND is no different than sharing one with your best friend. i think he'd like to keep your separate bedrooms to have your own space, but you'll rarely sleep apart.

so! many! new! traditions!

helping him dye his hair on the first saturday of every month. biweekly horror movie marathons. counting the communal piggy bank ever couple months. trying new takeout spots until you find THE spot for every category- chinese, pizza, ramen, etc etc.

and finally, an everlasting mark on your first apartment together: a small carved out heart around your initials left on the inner corner of a kitchen cabinet done with his pocket knife on a random weekday evening while you two are cooking dinner together.

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm

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roosterforme · 7 months ago

Text

The Younger Kind Part 60 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your bachelorette outing and Bradley's bachelor party are both hosted by the same person, but they couldn't be more different. Spending an evening at home with Noah is reminiscent of your babysitting days, but now he's asking you some pertinent questions.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, drinking, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Natasha was outside in her SUV on the driveway, ready to pick you up for your bachelorette outing. You refused to call it a bachelorette party since it was just the two of you going out for the evening, but Bradley made sure his best friend knew to spare no expense when it came to anything you wanted.

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body. "I'll be home in a few hours."

He grunted softly, kissing you a little deeper before releasing your lips. "We'll still miss you," he murmured, letting his hands roam along your hips while Noah sat on the area rug and worked on one of the new coloring books you picked up for him. "And don't overdo it." When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst."

You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

It would have been impossible to dispute that fact. She was the one who took care of you when Bradley wasn't stateside. "Go have fun."

"Bye, Mommy!" Noah said, popping up to give you a hug when Bradley released you. He scooped his son up since he didn't want you lifting anything, and you gave Noah a kiss on the forehead.

"Have fun with Daddy," you told him, kissing him once more before heading outside to Nat's idling SUV.

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?"

"Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?"

His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Bradley took him back inside, and they ended up stretched out on the floor together. Noah continued with his masterpiece while Bradley started searching for options on his phone. After a few minutes, he found an independent shop that made coloring books with different themes based on photos that you send to them. "Do you like this?" he asked his son, holding up his phone.

Noah looked at the sample pages as Bradley scrolled through them. He nodded and said, "Mommy is prettier than that."

"She absolutely is," Bradley replied as he realized the wedding was in a week and didn't know if a custom book could even be completed in that short amount of time. "Let me see if we can get something like this for her. If not, we can always save it for her birthday."

His son started to pout at the mere mention of having to wait longer for it, so Bradley started typing up a message to the owner of the shop, hoping that he'd be able to explain that it was for his wedding. Once that was done, he checked the time and asked, "Do you need a snack before dinner?"

"Ants on logs," Noah replied without missing a beat. Bradley had no problem with the healthy snacks you somehow tricked the two of them into eating, but he was always told he never got the peanut butter proportions right.

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-"

"Mommy left some in the fridge."

Bradley chuckled as he stood up, coaxing Noah to abandon his coloring project for the time being. "Of course she did. She's the best." Somehow even when you weren't here, you had everything covered.

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

"Okay, so if you could ditch Bradley and marry a celebrity, who would you pick?"

You burst out laughing in the pedicure chair next to Natasha with your hands resting on the roundest part of your belly. "Who said I would? Even if I could?" She gave you a look followed by an eye roll before you said, "You'll laugh at me, so I don't even want to say my answer."

"Just say it," she prompted as you dragged your foot through the warm water.

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors."

Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

You thought back to all the time you wasted with Greyson and other guys your age and grimaced. "I don't think that was always my type. It's a more recent development, and I'm not mad about it." You moved your hand on your belly and added, "Boy suck. Men are at least marginally better."

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

"Mostly because he has Noah," you told her, and then both of you were laughing.

After your nails were painted a vibrant purple, Natasha took you out for dinner and let you eat until you were full. You could tell your body and appetite were changing by the day, but you refused to feel self conscious about it in front of her. The two of you were sharing a slice of cake for dessert when you said, "He really did plan almost everything for the wedding. All I did was help him pick out matching suits for him and Noah to wear. And I picked out some flowers and my dress, but that's it."

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

You felt silly telling her what was on your mind, but you said it anyway. "He pays my credit card bill. Not that I spend a lot! I try not to! I usually just buy groceries and things for Noah." She nodded like your words weren't as startling as you thought they were. "I kind of wanted to surprise him as a thank you, but if I buy something, he'll see it on the credit card statement."

Maybe you should have been wary of the smirk that found its way to her lips when Natasha said, "What if I rally the boys one night this week and take him out for a little bachelor party?"

"Oh," you said softly. "You'd do that? Just something lowkey?"

"Super lowkey," she agreed with a nod.

You could easily imagine them going to Top Golf or out for some drinks. "I think he might really like that."

"Or.... and just hear me out," she said, holding up her hands innocently after handing her credit card to the waiter. "Or, you let me absolutely roast him for the night."

You studied her face; how bad could it be? She was Bradley's best friend after all. Even if she was giving him a hard time, she'd probably make it fun. "What did you have in mind?" you asked as the two of you left the restaurant and headed for the pottery boutique down the block.

"A few things I'm going to need your approval for," she replied casually. And while you worked on making yourself a mug that said Noah's Mommy, you listened to Natasha's not-so-lowkey plans for Thursday night. By the time your mug actually looked like a mug, you gave her full approval.

"I almost feel bad about this," you told her with a laugh.

"I don't."

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

The following evening after Noah was in bed, Bradley set you up for a nice shower while he cleaned up the kitchen from the chicken enchiladas you made for dinner. When Nat called him, he held his phone to his shoulder with his cheek and kept working.

He answered the call and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

"Your bachelor party with me and the guys starts at six o'clock on Thursday evening."

He laughed in response. "It's funny that this is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Bradley could practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Just be ready to go."

"Ready for what?" he asked, knowing better than to just trust her with this. The dating app was one thing, and that had turned out great in the end, but he wasn't going to blindly go with her on this.

"Uhhh... just some stuff."

"Natasha."

"Bradley."

"What did you do?"

There was a brief pause before she said, "Just be ready for dinner, booze and some strippers."

With a deep sigh, Bradley closed his eyes and said, "I'm going to have to check with my wife-to-be about the strippers, Nat." You had to know by now that you had nothing to worry about, and he wasn't even all that keen on going to a strip club, but he didn't want you to be upset.

"She knows the plan."

He froze as he loaded the dishwasher. "She does?"

Natasha laughed, and Bradley swore he felt his skin crawl. "She does. Be ready for six o'clock on Thursday."

"We have work on Friday-"

She already ended the call. Bradley finished cleaning up when he heard you getting out of the shower. "God damn it, Nat," he muttered as he turned off the kitchen lights and made his way back to the bedroom where you were all wrapped up in a towel.

"Hi, Daddy."

He groaned at your words and your little smirk. "Hey, Baby. Can we talk for a minute?"

Your eyebrows shot up as you held your towel around you a little tighter. "What's wrong? Is it something about the wedding? Did the marriage license not go through? We only have six days."

"No, no," he promised, reaching for you. "It's not that. It's... I just got off the phone. With Nat."

You looked relieved as you leaned against him. "Good. I was worried for a second."

Bradley didn't quite know how to approach this topic now that he was here. Natasha would be as tenacious as a junkyard dog about her plans, so he had to say something. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You laughed softly. "That sounds nice."

He cleared his throat and said, "Nat called about my bachelor party night?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, but you just nodded and said, "Dinner and drinks and the strip club."

"Yeah," he rasped. "You approved this whole thing?"

"Mmhmm. To be fair, it was all her idea. I just told her it was okay."

Bradley tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, your face fresh and perfect after your shower. "If this plan is not okay with you, then I'm not going."

"It's okay with me," you replied easily. "I trust you."

He studied your face. "I feel like I'm going to end up babysitting everyone on a work night. Two days before the wedding."

You snorted in response. "You'll have fun. And so will everyone else. You should go."

"Yeah, I'm going," he groaned. "Nat will just have the guys drag me out if I don't go willingly. But I don't really care about looking at strippers. I got you and your perfect tits right here at home."

You didn't stop him when he slowly tugged your towel from your fingers and pulled it open. And yeah, your tits looked perfect, but so did the swell of your pregnant belly and your soft skin. He was hard as soon as the towel hit the floor.

"Daddy," you whined softly, shivering in his arms. It was December, and the nights were chilly in San Diego; you had taken to snuggling with him even more than usual in your sleep. "Now you need to warm me up."

"My pleasure," he replied, scooping you up and dropping you carefully onto the king sized bed that you picked out for the room. "Let me start right here," he whispered before he kissed you softly, covering your body gently with his. "Feeling warmer?"

You shifted beneath him, spreading your legs wider so he was nestled against your pussy, his cock straining against his jeans zipper. "A little bit," you whispered innocently.

Bradley smirked, and when he brought his hand up to stroke your breast, he said, "I told you, I got these perfect tits right here."

"Bradley," you giggled as his fingers skimmed along your skin, but when he stroked his thumb across your tightly furled nipple, you arched your back and made a raspy gasping sound. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. "Oh my god," you moaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his hand away, but you were already nodding vigorously.

"It felt really good." The words rushed right from your lips as you rolled your hips up to meet his. "Different, I guess. I can't explain it."

When he rubbed your nipple between his thumb and index finger, he smirked. You were instantly squirming and moaning, reaching for his zipper with one hand and his hair with the other. Your eyes were wild even though he was being gentle, and he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear. "You're extra sensitive right now. It's the pregnancy hormones." He plucked and stroked as you started panting. "God damn, Princess. You like that?"

"Yes!" Your voice already sounded broken, and he'd barely touched you.

"Shh. Keep quiet like a good girl." But his words and hand seemed to have the opposite effect on you, because you just got louder. Bradley reached down to where you had his cock free from his zipper and pulled your hand up to his lips. He kissed your fingers before shoving them a little rough into your mouth. "You have to be quiet if you want me to play with you."

You moaned around your own fingers but nodded your head, and at least you were quieter now as Bradley kissed his way from your neck down to your tits. He didn't know how he was going to manage you when there were two kids in the house trying to sleep, but at the moment, he didn't really care. You were going to be his wife in a few short days. That thought alone had him bucking his cock against the bedding as he ran his mustache along your peaked nipple, inhaling your wildflower scent.

When he pulled your nipple into his mouth and sucked, he could tell your breasts were already a little bit bigger than before. Soon you'd be bigger everywhere. Getting even more sensitive by the day. He was painfully hard right now, listening to your muffled screams and tasting you. He licked and sucked until your tits were both damp from his mouth and overstimulated from his mustache.

When you started bucking up, Bradley eased his hand down to cup your pussy and found that you were soaked. He couldn't remember Meredith getting quite like this as he dipped his middle finger into your slick and easing it down to your hole.

"Daddy," you gasped as you pulled your fingers from your mouth. "I'm going to come."

You looked shocked by your statement as you sank down around his finger. He could already feel your tight pussy fluttering around him as he whispered, "You want me to make it so good?"

His only answer was a whimper as you bit your lip, and he knew he'd make sure you were always taken care of in every way. Carefully, he added a second finger and started to circle your clit with his thumb. You were shaking a bit, your pretty tits bouncing softly as he ran his nose down the valley between your breasts.

"Be a good girl. You know where to put those fingers, Princess," he coaxed, watching you slip them between your lips. Then he let you have his mouth on your tits again, while his hand worked at your pussy. He carefully drew a shaking orgasm out of you as you slobbered on your own fingers, not stopping until he was afraid you'd be too far gone soon.

"Daddy," you whined around your fingers as he ran his tongue flat across your nipple.

"Let me fuck you," he begged, realizing he was already close and needing to be inside you. "Please, Baby."

You reached for his cock and guided him home, and he fucked you with his jeans barely pulled down, coming inside you after just a few strokes. You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

"Keep me warm all night, Daddy."

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

As you sent Bradley off with Natasha, you shared a conspiratorial look with her. You only felt slightly bad for keeping the bachelor party plans to yourself, and ultimately it made you feel good when Bradley went out for the night in an old pair of jeans and an uninspired shirt. He didn't look the part of a man who wanted to try to dazzle some strippers, and you loved him for it.

"Bye, Bub," he said, kneeling to kiss Noah where he stood at your side. "Be good for Mommy." Then he stood and kissed you deeply. "I won't be out late, okay?"

"Stay out as late as you want," you told him, running your fingers along his cheek as he pulled away from you. "Just don't have a hangover on Saturday."

He smiled and focused on your face even as Nat and the guys yelled at him from Javy's car in the driveway. "Our wedding day. It'll be perfect. Like you."

"Go," you told him with a laugh even as you had butterflies in your belly. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get home."

With one more kiss, he was off and jogging down the walkway. You watched him climb into the backseat, then they all waved at you as Javy backed out of the driveway with Natasha in the front seat. You were wondering how long it would be until Bradley called you to tell you he had in fact been taken to see a bunch of male strippers. The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

But you didn't hear from them at all while you and Noah ate macaroni and cheese together. You still didn't hear a word as the two of you took Skittles for a short walk to look at Christmas lights. You even let Noah dip his hands in green paint to make a Christmas tree art project to hang on the refrigerator, but nobody called or texted you.

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?"

You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry.

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Oh, Noah," you said with a surprised laugh, pulling him into your arms and holding him against his growing younger sibling. "Not at all! It won't feel like anything."

"Then why are you going to do it?" he asked, face muffled by your shoulder.

You soothed his back with your hand, considering his question. For all intents and purposes, you really were his mom. Bradley added you to his will; if anything happened to him, Noah was solely yours. "I kind of want to have a little piece of paper with an official signature that says we get to be together forever. Does that sound okay?"

"That's adoption?" he asked.

"That's adoption."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed with a little shrug before climbing into bed. "Can I sleep with Skittles again?"

The pup appeared in the doorway, always excited to hear her name. "She can stay in here until Daddy gets home." You set the dog in bed with him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead as he yawned. "I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." He was half asleep as you turned on his night light and left the room. When you checked your phone, you smiled, having finally received the message you were waiting for.

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

You were doubled over in laughter, holding your belly and trying not to wet yourself. Because he also sent a picture. All of the guys were lined up under the marquee sign, and you were pleased to see that they all looked like they were being good sports about the entire thing. Bradley was the only one who looked slightly mortified.

You texted back Go have fun, Daddy Bradshaw!

Natasha sent you some random photos as you got ready for bed. You were surprised Jake was there, given your history with him, but even he looked like he was having fun. You laughed at a picture of Bradley drinking something pink and blended, and then the photos stopped.

You wondered what was going on, but you kept yourself busy. Bradley told you not to clean up, promising to take care of everything tomorrow night before the wedding in the backyard on Saturday afternoon. Since you had the time and the privacy, you tried on your wedding dress one last time, sliding the fabric along your legs and zipping it up your side. You grabbed your purple paper crown, which was looking a lot worse for the wear now, and set it on your head.

When you looked in the mirror, you smiled. The dress fit like a dream and hugged your bump. The crown looked fun at the moment, but you wouldn't wear it on Saturday; you were pretty sure Bradley considered it a 'bedroom' item at this point anyway. Mostly, you looked happy. Like someone who was accepted in this perfect place. Like a woman who was needed here. And you needed the Bradshaw boys to be your family.

You wore the dress around for a few minutes before carefully unzipping it and getting ready for bed. It was late now, but you requested the day off tomorrow, and you wanted to see Bradley when he got home from his bachelor party. After you checked on Noah and Skittles, you curled up on the living room couch.

Every time you stopped to think about the wedding, you got a little anxious. When you asked Bradley what he had planned for dinner for the reception, he just told you he had everything under control. He said all you had to do was show up with some sort of wedding vows, but he didn't tell you anything that he had planned.

You dozed off on the couch, somehow still exhausted all the time, and you had no idea how late it was when you woke up to the sound of laughter and a key in the front door.

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you."

"Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

"Well, I know I had a great time tonight," Natasha cackled as she guided Bradley inside, and you stood up with your hand clasped over your mouth. He was a swaying mess, and he was holding a huge wad of cash and a bag from a convenience store.

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

And then he was on you, so gentle in his overindulgence, it was almost surprising. He was looking around like he wasn't sure what to do with everything he was holding, trying to touch your belly.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Natasha said with a smile as she closed the door behind her, and then you were alone with him.

"What's in the bag? Are why are you holding a roll of cash?" you asked as you guided him to the couch.

He sat down hard and handed everything to you as you stood between his splayed legs. "The strippers were dudes. I made Nat and Javy stop so I could get you some Skittles. I'm really drunk. Can we get married soon?"

When you looked in the bag you found six packs of your favorite candy. "Wow, you must be very intoxicated if you bought a pack of Sour Skittles too."

"Did I?" he asked before stretching out on the couch. "Shit. I'll eat them. Come here."

You sat on the floor next to him and handed him the bag of Sour Skittles as you counted the nearly seven hundred dollars you were holding. "Bradley, where did this come from?" you asked in alarm.

But he just crunched on some of the candy in response. "Oh, these are fucking nasty. Baby, can we please get married?" he rambled, dumping more Skittles into his mouth.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "Were getting married in like thirty-six hours. Now can you please tell me where you got this money from?"

"Huh?" he grunted like he'd never seen it before. "Oh. Oh, that." Then he casually dumped the rest of the Sour Skittles and chewed them up while you laughed and shook his arm.

"Bradley!"

He swallowed and dropped the wrapper on the floor before pulling you up onto the couch with him. "Jake got tips for stripping, and Nat made him give me the cash."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked with in shock as you tried to settle into a comfortable position on him.

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

You couldn't stop laughing now. "But you got the cash?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes drifting closed as he propped his arm behind his head. "A wedding gift. For the honeymoon."

Just as you settled your head on his chest, you popped back up again. "Are we going on a honeymoon?" You started to feel a little apprehensive about going away for an extended trip without Noah while you were pregnant, but Bradley brought his big hand up to settle on your back as he snuggled in a little more.

"Next year. After the baby's born. Anywhere you want to go."

He really did kind of smell like Axe body spray, and he definitely needed to take a shower, but you let him hold you for a few minutes while he slept.

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

Part 61 will be their wedding! Thanks so much for reading and letting me share this family with you! We're almost to the finish line. Thanks @caitsymichelle13 for the request about the coloring book; stay tuned. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 61

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year ago

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Danny and the Fan Blog part 2

Danny is trying to get a picture from the Gotham Bridge of its sister city, Bludhaven. He has dropped his invisibly, sure that being on the edge of a dangerous out-of-the-way ledge will keep unwanted mugging away.

He had flown down to the bottom metal part of the arch right smack in the middle- still far from the water but lower than where the cars and people were.

He sinks to his knees, hoping the bridge's light can get his shadow against the waves for an epic piece. Danny aims his lens, adjusting the focus again, and then presses the button.

At the exact moment, he does, a boat out rushes from underneath the arch of the bridge, and a body flings itself off the bridge's edge above him. The person twists masterfully midair, landing on the boat's deck with a soft thump and not a wasted movement.

Danny's mouth drops open, watching the boot disappear into the horizon before scrambling to see the photo.

It's gorgeous.

The water is highlighted by the golden glow of the street lanterns, and they bounce off the sleek black boat, with the skyscrapers of Bludhaven painting the perfect drop back. But what ties the picture together is Red Robin mid-fall, half twisted and arms above his head that its hard to tell if hes a fallen angel or a rising one.

He's got a half smile on his face, black hair blowing in the wind and Danny breath catches.

It's the best picture he's ever taken.

He stares at the screen of his camera, wondering how he could have been so lucky to have captured the perfect moment. Danny won't even have to do too much editing. It's ready to be posted right now.

He was so excited to share it that Danny abandoned his place, turning invisible and flying back to his apartment. He arrives to find Jazz working on her homework on the kitchen table, but her hand rests on a ghost gun until he drops his powers and becomes invisible.

Her face lights up at once, and her hand lifts from her weapon. "Danny! How was the photos tonight?"

"Only got one." He admits, sprinting forward to show her, "But look at which one!"

He brings up the image from the memory card, displaying it proudly. Jazz mouth slacks. "Woah, Danny, that's amazing! He looks so good in it! How on earth did you manage to get this?"

"Luck, really." He grins, reaching for a plate with apple slices and peanut butter that Jazz likely set out for him. It is his favorite snake.. "I was at the right place at the right time."

"And where exactly was this place?" He winces at the tone, he knows she doesn't like him taking too many risks, but it's not like he's in any real danger. Even the Meta collars that canceled people's powers would never work on him. Danny is a ghost, and no one has the technology for that unless someone finally starts taking his parents seriously.

Vlad has been fine since Jazz convinced him to see a therapist. He is currently in the ghost zone at some mental hospital retreat that has been doing wonders for him. They visit whenever chance they get.

"I may have been under the Gotham Bridge."

"Trigate Bridge or Brown Bridge?"

"There is more then one bridge?"

"Danny," Jazz sighs. "There are four bridges."

Danny shrugs, taking a bit from his snack, and starts his laptop. He's sending the photo onto his blog from his camera, watching the photo download with anticipation. "I don't know Jazz. I ignore stuff like that."

"Well, maybe you should. You have yet to learn how important it is to pay attention to the things around you in this city. Danger is around every corner. Just this afternoon, someone tried to steal my phone!"

Danny's head jerks up. "They what?"

"I know! I was just minding my business reading a fascinating article on child development in the tablet era when some thug walked right up to me with a gun. I would have handled it trust me, his stance was pathetic at best, but Red Hood came to my rescue." Here Jazz's face reddness and Danny has a moment to wonder if he could take Red Hood in a fight. Maybe. He's sure he would win but it would be a close call.

He would do it, too, anything to keep no good punks away from his sister.

Jazz sees the face his making and rolls her eyes. "What? I'm allowed to drool over boys every once in a while. Just like you do."

"I do not droll!" Danny shouts offended.

Jazz gestures to the laptop screen, uploading the photo onto his blog. "Sure. And you just happen to stare at Red Robin's photos for the artistic application."

"I-I do! I took them!" Danny shutters, watching his sister's face break into a teasing smile. He feels his own lips pull upwards against his will and suddenly, they are laughing. It's strange, how at ease they both feel here.

They were never this carefree back at their parent's home. The realization makes Danny feel slightly guilty for noticing- because it wasn't like his parents didn't love him- but there was always tension at home. Even before the accident, he knows now that it wasn't healthy.

Jazz must have felt the change too, because before while she was racing towards adulthood- always strung so tight and nervous- she missed out on being a typical teen. Danny never had a chance to sit down with her and gush about boys, nor had she ever prioritized making friends.

Sure, Jazz was pretty, brilliant, and basically the pride of Casper High, but Danny never noticed she had no friends. She never hung out with people at the mall, she never got invited to go out, and she never texted funny memes to others back home.

In Amity, people knew of and respected her, but no one was close to Jazz. Maybe that's why she got so excited to be part of Team Phantom when she first found out.

Jazz Fenton may have been the intelligent sibling, but Danny Fenton was the social one, leaving her feeling crippling lonely while he had his two best friends.

He knows that now.

"Speaking about drolling over boys- how's Jason?" Danny teases just as Jazz's phone buzzes with a new message. The notification displays Jason's shy smile before Jazz yanks it protectively close to her face.

Jason Peter is someone Danny can approve of instead of that thug Red Hood. Jason and Jazz met at one of their classes at the beginning of the semester when Jazz was still unused to the city. She always went to class ten minutes before it started and read to pass the time instead of speaking to her college mates.

She had been reading Pride and Prejudice- one of the fancy covers kind Vlad had gotten her- and Jason had practically teleported to her table gushing about the artwork. Then, when he sat down, the two broke into a healthy debate about the characters.

Jazz admitted to him later that she was surprised by a man in a leather jacket with a white streak in his hair and multiple piercings in his ear having such in-depth character analysis of her beloved novel.

They've been hanging out ever since.

"He is fine, thank you." She huffs, typing a response to the text. Danny places his chin on his hand, smiling as her eyes soften. "He asked me to see a play this Friday. Or, well, he said he was going to one and wanted to know if I wanted to come along."

Danny perks up. "Like a date?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" Jazz nervously plays with her hair. "He made it sound like we were just hanging out. Do you think he meant it like a date?"

"It could be either way if he didn't clarify," Danny admits, then smiles to settle her sudden anxiety. She always doubted herself about spending time with people outside the family or Team Phantom. Doubts that were the result of her upbringing. "But why don't we go shopping tomorrow? Get you a nice dress, and I'll do your make-up. Once we're done, he'll wish it was a date!"

Jazz's smile may be wobbly, but it was there, and it was real. They chat more about the play and what she should wear. Danny forgoes any black, claiming it's too fancy for a first date, and trades ideas for her outfit.

Neither notices that the photo has finished uploading or that people are already commenting and losing their minds.

Nor did they notice a particular hacker with the handle- Oracle- attempting to break into his computer only to be booted out by Technus' system. It flings Oracle to the closest computer system that is close to his.

Somewhere deep underground under a particular mansion. Oracle panics, thinking that Phantom piggyback rides her signal to the cave and quickly shuts everything down. She bites her lip before picking up her personal phone and calling Bruce.

"We have a problem."

Else where Tim is helping Dick with an out-of-control gang. He isn't aware that a photo of him has just circulated through Gotham nor of the sudden new simps awaiting him.

(Lady Gotham laughs)

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny and The Fan Blog #Part 2 #Dead tired #anger management #Danny is unware of anything always #Also he scared Babs into thinking he knows about the cave #He's just vibing with sister #Jason is unaware the pretty red head is part of the Blog

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saerins · 2 years ago

Text

─── 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 4.9k | content: angst, fluff, some making out, implied sex, stupid teenager phase

notes: sobs this was not supposed to be this long … one of y’all need to stop me from writing about this man !! i love him too much, pls send help </3 extra: this is the song playing in the last scene :’)

summary: sae has few interests, and one of them is you. but sometimes, being special just isn’t enough.

you’ve always been special.

ever since age three when your family moved across the street from where the itoshis lived. ever since age five when you finally gathered the courage to talk to the pair of brothers. ever since age six when sae invited you to play with him and rin. ever since age seven when you cried because someone bullied you at the playground and sae wiped away your tears. ever since age ten when both of you played with paper rings. ever since age eleven when you and sae would talk endlessly at night through the phone and get nagged at by your parents when they found out.

ever since age twelve when you told sae you’d watch him become the best soccer player in the world by his side.

your presence bleeds into sae’s life and he can’t think about anything without relating it to you; like how his breakfast tastes like ass when you’re not smearing your stupid peanut butter on it because apparently peanut better goes well with everything is your phase at that point of time. like how he’s walking home and he’ll always have to crane his head to the right just to check if you’re on your front porch swing, because if you are, he’ll wave and then you’ll smile and wave back, and sae would feel like it’s a special code you two share.

you’re probably the only thing he pays his spare attention to. and rin. you, rin, soccer. that’s all.

you complain way too much, especially at the fact that sae doesn’t smile often. he counters, “that’s none of your business.”

and you tell him one day you’ll be the reason he smiles everyday.

sae thinks it’s kind of stupid though, because you already are. you just aren’t around to see it. he’ll probably never let you see it too. he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did.

it isn’t long before you’re age fifteen and graduating middle school and you’re excited to start high school. it didn’t really make a difference for sae, as long as he got to play soccer, he really couldn’t care less.

when you’re age sixteen you tell sae that a boy from class broke your heart because he didn’t accept your valentines’ chocolates. it was as good as a rejection, apparently. or whatever girl code says it is.

frankly, sae’s just offended. you’ve never given him any valentines’ shit. all of a sudden some no name guy is getting it?

maybe it’s true what people say, teenage girls cry over stupid things they consider love that’s not actually love. now you’re getting his soccer jersey wet with your tears and you’re crooning on and on about how boys suck but somehow sae’s still the best.

you’re sixteen and crying on sae’s shoulder, while he’s seventeen and wishing he could torture the son of a bitch who made you cry.

this is the closest you’ve ever been, physically. your heart’s not really broken because whoever you’re crying about has never really had it. but sae doesn’t know that.

teenage girls make really stupid decisions sometimes. and other times, they making stupid passing comments, like when you say “glad i didn’t let him kiss me. would suck for my first kiss to be with a dick who didn’t give a shit about me.”

sometimes teenage boys make stupid decisions too.

sae doesn’t really know what possesses him to do this, but he doesn’t stop it. he doesn’t stop his hand from reaching out to you, doesn’t stop his fingers from tilting your chin up. there’s only confusion in your eyes when he looks into them. there’s only hesitation in his.

sae’s not anything to you except for a childhood friend, and you’re not anything to him, except for one of the most beautiful people he’s ever met. that’s why he does this slowly, so you have time to stop this.

he has no right to do this. he wishes you would just stop him.

you’re both teenagers when sae becomes your first kiss, when your tears stain his cheeks and he tastes like the fruits he just ate. you’re both delirious off of the feeling, like neither of you want this to end because your lips stay connected even when you’re not moving, and your lashes are fluttering against one another’s and sae really wants to kiss you again.

but it’s late and your parents are probably the ones knocking on his door right now so he stops himself and pulls away while rin bounds down the stairs to open the door.

sae sees nothing but you, you and your pretty face and your pretty lips and your perfect perfect person.

“there, now your first kiss is with a dick who does care about you.”

it’s that same summer and you’ve forgotten all about the stupid boy that supposedly broke your heart. you have sae with you whenever he’s free, when he decides to bring you out after practice and explore rooftops to find the best view for the fireworks.

you’re not together, but it sure feels like you are.

then it’s autumn and the leaves are turning orange and red, and you swear you see sae’s cheeks and ears turn nearly the same shade when he holds your hand for the first time as you walk through the park, a white cat crossing in front of you.

sae blames it on his practice earlier and that he’s tired because there’s no way he’ll ever admit it’s because of you.

when winter comes, sae’s still taking care of you. nothing stops him from playing soccer, but nothing can stop him from finding you either. sae’s starting to regret his decisions when you force him to go ice skating and look at him expectantly whenever you see a mistletoe.

you’re a lot of work, maybe you’re worth it.

and then you kiss him again and he thinks yes, maybe he can do this. he can juggle soccer and you, it’ll magically work out.

finally it’s spring and you’re excited because you love the cherry blossoms, and sae thinks maybe he loves something else but he’s not going to go there yet. and while everyone’s watching the solar eclipse that one night, sae’s watching you.

for once, he wants to believe in superstitions, wants to believe what watching the solar eclipse means.

“what’s the matter?”

you’re always so perceptive. you’d make a great playmaker, he feels.

of course you pick up on the tension, barely a minute after you walk into his room. sae doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is, whether it’s love or something less, or maybe something more.

but it’s not a democracy, and the answer is crystal clear in sae’s mind. his answer’s always been the same, but it’s not like you don’t exist in his world.

“the club in spain gave me an offer.”

that’s all he needs to say to make you understand. and if you weren’t the most understanding person he knows, you might’ve reacted differently, but you’re still the same supportive, kind girl he met at age four.

“when do you go?” your voice is shaky and he knows you’re trying to hold it together.

sae’s sorry, really.

“next month.”

it’s not a lot of time, but probably enough to say goodbye. then you throw your arms around him and you work your magic, you say you want to try despite the distance, despite the unknown timeline. and who is sae if not someone who’d give it a try?

he’s not even sure he can ever say no to you.

it doesn’t seem real until the night before he leaves, because you’re eighteen and standing in his near barren room, everything already packed into boxes and loaded.

maybe it’s the fact he’ll be gone for a very long time, doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he feels you pressed up against him. maybe it’s the fact he’s denying the depth of his feelings for you and it’s getting him frustrated.

or maybe it’s because he’s selfish and he doesn’t want anyone else to have you, just like how he gave you your first kiss.

he’s your first kiss, and he’ll be your first time, with your hands clawing at his clothes. and you’ll be his, with the way he’s grabbing onto your bare back so desperately.

you’re eighteen and you think nothing’s prettier than the sounds sae makes, especially when his lips are right next to your ear, with his hot breath fanning against you.

sae’s nineteen and he thinks you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, in all sense of the word. he thinks you look pretty in pink, still pretty when you wear nothing too.

and suddenly sae thinks that maybe it doesn’t feel so crazy to think that the both of you might make it through this.

long distance can work for some people. but sometimes it’s just meant to drive two people further away.

sae’s gaining momentum in europe, and you’re proud of him. you’re proud of your boyfriend, doing his best and showing off his talents and having his hard work pay off.

you’re really, genuinely happy for him. but the bigger of a star he is, the further away he feels, and maybe it’s selfish of you to want him here, to want him to be just your neighbour itoshi sae like how things started out.

maybe it’s selfish and wishful thinking, but you can’t help yourself.

sometimes sae doesn’t even have time to look at his phone. he’s tired and overwhelmed and understandably too. and you feel guilty everytime you subject him to your insecurities.

but you’re nineteen and you don’t know better.

rin’s not much fun to hang around with, especially when he got more stoic and awkward. he’s like a mirror of his brother, and that may fool a lot of people, except you knew him before that. but you’re not going to butt your head in things that don’t concern you, so you leave him be.

and suddenly the itoshis seem further away than they’ve ever been. for the first time in your life, you’re not sure if trying will be enough anymore.

sae misses you. that’s whenever he has the free time to think, when he’s not hounded by trainings after trainings, when he’s not busy from day to night with whatever new training regime they’ve got him on.

is he aware that he’s probably being the world’s worst boyfriend now? yes. but sae can’t force himself to choose that over his dreams. can’t force himself not to choose soccer.

[17:08] she’s fine, idk what you’re worried about.

rin’s message doesn’t alleviate his worries. sae knows you better than anyone, and he doesn’t believe you’re fine.

[08:08] hey sae :)

[17:34] going to bed now, gn!! <3

sae stares at your message for a while in the locker room, while everyone else is showering. you’ve cooled off on the pet names, you’re worried you’re overstepping. you’re worried he’s lost his feelings.

he’s not.

he’d be crazy to.

but he can’t find the energy to convince himself that this would turn out fine. he can’t convince himself that he’s not hurting you every single day by not being able to be everything you need, by not being able to be physically there for you.

this half-assed relationship isn’t what you deserve. and where he is right now, with his bird’s eye view of the world, he doesn’t know if he can ever give you anything else.

[17:49] goodnight. call you tomorrow.

the moment sae breaks up with you, you feel like that kid at sixteen all over again, except this time you don’t have your favourite person’s shoulder to cry on and this time it’s actually love.

all you can think of when you hear him pick up the phone is that morning right before he left for the airport, how his hair’s a mess and how his lashes are way too pretty and how he sounded when he’s all groggy and tired.

but then he tells you the one thing you do not want to hear, and the illusion is shattered into pieces.

“this isn’t working out.”

“what are you talking about?” he’s silent, and you’re anxious. “we’re fine, sae.”

you can hear him sighing over the phone. you so desperately want to fix this, and so does sae but he can’t think of anything more selfish than to ask you to wait for him until he’s ready—he knows what’s the right thing to do. it sucks, but he’s made up his mind.

“that’s bullshit, y/n,” he responds, calmly, and you feel him slipping further and further from you.

“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”

“give it a break, woman,” sae chuckles, low and deep, and you’re beginning to doubt that you know him at all right now. “we’re done.”

the dial tone is all you can hear after that.

twenty years old is where you have your first actual heartbreak.

and all that talk about how time heals all feels like bullshit when you’re right in the middle of it all. five days in and you’re still a wreck. twenty days later and you’re still staring at the pictures you and sae took together. a month passes and you’re visiting the places you went to together. just a sad, pathetic girl crying on the benches, reliving what she once had.

three months later you’re still watching his matches on tv. you’re still cheering for him inside. four months later and it’s sae’s birthday and he doesn’t even respond to your birthday message. half a year after the breakup and you finally stop crying when you think of him.

but it’s easy to delude yourself when you’re not in the presence of what you grieve. because eight months after you broke up, you see reports that sae’s dating a sports photographer. the next few days, a picture is released of them kissing in a restaurant.

then you get glimpses of other girls being able to be intimate with him. other girls getting to taste his lips and feel his love. other girls getting his attention when that right used to solely belong to you.

and you’ve never felt worse.

“why so glum?”

sae blinks at the woman, indifferent. he can’t even remember her name.

“nadia,” she says, like she’s reading his goddamn mind, holding her hand out. “i’ve been your team’s photographer for a few months now.”

sae shakes her hand out of courtesy because he really doesn’t want his publicist to chew him out again. “didn’t ask.”

“you know, you’re a lot more crabby these days,” she comments, and it’s like he can see the lightbulb going off in her head. “oh, is it girlfriend issues?”

“i don’t have one, so shut it.”

“come on, i promise i’m good at making people forget.” she says this so seductively that sae’s a little disturbed. he just wants to get this shoot done with and go home, maybe even check up on you a little. all in incognito mode, of course, because he can’t risk you knowing he still cares. can’t risk getting your hopes up.

somehow the stars have spent all their time aligning sae’s soccer career and everything else is in tatters because his publicist forces him to take nadia up on her offer and go out with her.

what was supposed to be a one time thing turned out to be something more. she wasn’t even close to you, but she could be close. turns out when he’s not being such a dick, nadia can be moderately interesting.

different, maybe that’s what he needs.

he thinks back to when she kissed him on their first date. sae still finds himself hoping you didn’t see that.

but no, he’s not in love with you anymore. sae’s officially an adult at twenty-one and he’s still the same stubborn guy in denial because he’s looking at pictures of you while nadia’s sitting right next to him.

it’s not healthy, it really isn’t.

you’re twenty-one now and you’re actually going on a date with the sole intention of trying to get over the one and only itoshi sae.

can you even trust your friend? all you know is that the guy is a friend of a best friend’s and that’s all she told you.

“my best friend’s a good guy, so by extension, so is his best friend,” was all she said.

now you’re here, at the amusement park, waiting for your date to show himself because apparently, in your friend’s bid for suspense, she was reluctant to share anything about him except that he’s dreamy and pretty and that his friend describes him as a genius.

and also “oh, he’s a soccer player too so that’s right up your alley, right?”

when the call from date guy comes in (because to stop you from profiling your date she also didn’t give you his name), you kind of like his voice.

“hey, where are you?”

you find out his name is nagi. and that he’s only here because reo stole his switch and he won’t give it back until the date’s over. which kind of works because you tell him you’re only here because you wanted to get over someone.

to which he says it’s a hassle.

there’s nothing you expect out of this, but then you find yourself enjoying your date.

it’s clear by the first fifteen minutes why nagi chose this place to meet. he’s absurdly good at games. he’s won you tons of plushies that you had to give away to some very happy kids. it’s a pattern; every game that he doesn’t know, he only loses once and then he proceeds to dominate.

no wonder his friend calls him a genius.

with nagi it’s easy, fluid. you’ve been spending the whole night there with him, playing together and eating together—well, mostly it’s just you feeding nagi because it turns out he finds a lot of things a hassle.

three days later, you find out that apparently you’re not a hassle in his books. not really, because he asks you out again.

it’s irrational.

sae shouldn’t be this bothered, but he is. he hates seeing your stupid updates about how you’re on a date with this nagi guy. he hates seeing your posts with the two of you wearing matching sweaters for christmas.

he gives it a like.

nadia’s already gone. sae doesn’t have time or energy to waste on people that don’t matter. and you shouldn’t matter. not right now. but here he is, wishing the circumstances were different.

if you and nadia switched places. if you had something to bring you to spain. it’s fucking selfish, he knows. doesn’t stop him from wishing for it. he can’t think of anyone else like how he thinks of you. doesn’t want to.

he really is clueless about everything outside of soccer, because he’s twenty-two when he realises that no one could ever make him forget about you, and maybe he should just live with it.

sae turns twenty-three when he’s in the running for being the world’s best midfielder. he’s gotten rid of the hopes of moving on and he’ll just fake it till he makes it.

maybe that’s why this year is particularly special to him. or maybe it’s because for the first time in a long while, you wish him happy birthday.

at midnight, in japan. because you’re thoughtful that way.

this time he responds.

thanks. how r u?

it’s criminal how easy it is for you to get his heart beating like this. he sees you typing and it’s enough to lift his mood.

great, school’s kicking my ass though.

sae finds himself wishing that he could hear your voice right now. for some stupidly non-complex reason that he finds completely absurd.

i saw your match last week, good game, genius.

fuck. after all this time, he still wants you.

his fingers type i miss you, just for the hell of it. just to see it there on his screen before he inevitably deletes it and replaces it with something mediocre like thanks or i know.

because he can’t just say that after being the one who broke things off. he can’t do that when he still thinks it won’t work out.

all he does is sigh and hit the delete button—except fuck, he accidentally hit send. and he would’ve deleted it if you weren’t already online and read it and he sees you typing for a moment before you stop completely and go offline.

sae has never felt more numb.

it’s been three months since sae said he missed you. you still can’t get that out of your head. the most upfront he’s been about his feelings and he chooses then of all times to be honest?

when your boyfriend was right beside you?

maybe it was your fault. you didn’t even know why you wished him a happy birthday. maybe you missed him too and was just lying to yourself.

god, maybe you’re the asshole in this after all. did you really love nagi? or was he just exceptionally well at making you forget? you really really like him, that’s all you know.

“hey, what’s wrong?” nagi’s looking at you, pushing his hair back, and you can’t help but think you’re lucky to have him these past few months.

but the turmoil inside you wins, and maybe you understand a little bit of how sae felt that night when he broke up with you.

it’s not fair to nagi for you to do this, but it’s not fair to him either to keep him around.

“we need to talk.”

it’s a surreal feeling, to be back in japan.

sae was nineteen when he left. now he’s twenty-seven when he breathes the tokyo air again. he lugs around his carry-on baggage because he’s not staying here for long. not yet. he’s coming back soon, and he doesn’t really know why. he’s milked everything he could from spain, from the rest of europe, some of the americas, and maybe he’s homesick now.

plain and simple.

the cab driver asks him why he looks so sharp, and he simply says, “wedding.”

it’s been seven years since he broke up with you. and your grip on him is as firm as ever. a grip he’ll never let you know you have on him because he’s made this mistake before—said i miss you and then scared you away.

by the next day he couldn’t even find you online because everything is wiped and maybe you hate him, hate his guts. that’s fine. he can live with that.

to him, you’re still the same lovable person as you were at age five. still the same girl at age sixteen that he fell in love with. you’re still his person and it’s fine if he has to just admire you from afar.

when he arrives, he takes a long hard look around the room, filled with guests socialising and drinking their wines and it’s so pathetic but he’s wondering if you’re still around. he’s late, and it’s his plane’s fault but it’s no use playing the blame game.

“hey,” rin calls out when he sees his brother. “you missed the ceremony.”

“yeah, stupid plane got delayed,” sae says, mind still distracted.

rin formally introduces his new wife to sae and she seems nice, polite, the kind that can put his brother in his place if she needs to. that’s nice. sae can’t help envisioning you in the wedding dress though. you’d look nice.

nicer if he was the one beside you.

“oh! as a gift to my now brother-in-law, i have a friend i want to set you up with,” she grins, and as much of an ass that sae is, he just figures he’ll reject the poor girl later. for now, he’ll entertain his new sister-in-law.

rin claps him on the shoulder before smirking and walking off, presumably to get a drink because no matter how much rin has changed, sae doubts he’ll ever become friendly enough to mingle in this crowd.

sae feels someone poking his shoulder and turns around, first to find his sister-in-law grinning from ear to ear, and next to find you next to her, just like he remembers.

pretty in pink, stupid bashful smile, still fucking beautiful.

“have fun,” rin’s wife says before she walks off with a knowing look. she’s already winning points with sae for bringing you to him.

“hey, genius,” you try to suppress your smile but it’s not working.

he thinks he’s dreaming. he’s not. he’s here. and so are you. and this might just be what he missed all this time.

you hold your hand out and he takes it wordlessly, obediently. sae follows you to the dance floor, trying to calm his erratic heartbeats, savouring the feeling of your hand in his once again, remembering that moment back in autumn when he first felt it.

when you wrap your hands around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, it feels like finally, something is real. like there’s something in this country that can really keep him here this time. because now he’s twenty-seven and he finally understands, he’s always loved you but he’s never been ready until now.

“can’t believe you let your brother get married before you,” you say, sarcasm because you’re breaking into a grin. “he actually beat you at something.”

sae pouts slightly, averting his gaze. “what’s the big deal anyway?”

you shrug. “i’d have thought you’d be the first. maybe with one of the girls you met abroad or something.”

there’s a certain bitterness in your tone that he likes, only because it means you minded all this time. the thought of him with someone else. he suddenly remembers something, and searches the room for a familiar face.

gray eyes meet his teal ones before they turn away, disinterested.

“you sure your boyfriend won’t mind you dancing with your ex?”

“probably not, since i don’t have one.” you smirk, sensing the bitterness in his tone too. it’s funny, seeing sae jealous like this.

he has no reason to though, since you broke up with nagi after being honest with yourself—that you’re not over sae and you probably never will be. you’d decided to just live with your decision.

“shame. thought you guys looked cute in those matching sweaters.”

so that was a jealous like, you think to yourself.

“thought you looked cute with that sports photographer girl too, kissing and all,” you say, though it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “why didn’t that work out?”

for the first time in his life, sae decides to be outright honest with you—

“because she’s not you.” because everytime she said his name, he’d overlay it with your voice in his head. because everytime she’d tried to get close, he’d resent her more for not being you. because no matter how hard anyone tries, they will never be you and that will never work, not for sae.

—to a certain degree.

he’s twenty-seven when he’s finally old enough to understand that it was never a problem with feelings because he’s always loved you all the same all this time. it was just a matter of being ready at the right time. it’s like luck in the world of soccer, where coincidences can only fall to those who are prepared.

and he’s here now. he’s ready.

call him crazy for thinking you’re on the same page because you’re getting closer and closer and closer.

“itoshi sae,” you whisper his name against his lips and he’s reminded of the first time he had you. you drive him crazy and he thinks he’ll keep on letting you. “i missed you too.”

you did. you used to be too young and inexperienced to put yourself in sae’s shoes. too young and naive thinking emotions were enough for two people to stay. sometimes, some things just aren’t meant to be… in the moment. and other times, when you’re both ready, everything suddenly falls into place.

you were sixteen when sae first kissed you. now ten years later, ten years wiser, you kiss again, and this feels significantly better than before. because now you both know.

sae has known you ever since you were three. and he thinks he’ll keep on knowing you, every day, every hour, every minute. he wants to know you forever. and he’s thinking maybe that superstition worked out after all. maybe it was destined to be like this all along.

two people coming together and falling apart only to end up in each other’s arms.

and he thinks fuck superstition, fuck the white cats and solar eclipses and everything else. even if things threaten not to work, this time he’ll make it work.

sae’s known you for so long he overlooked one simple thing. when he kisses you even deeper and is greeted with your lips smiling against his, he knows.

he hasn’t become the world’s best soccer player yet, but when he does, you’ll be by his side.

one day those paper rings the both of you played with when you were little would be real.

you’ve always been special, and you always will be.

now he’s finally home.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months ago

Text

could be

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).

genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."

words: 1.7k

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Whoa, that’s a new one,” drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. “ If it ain’t the prettiest little clicker I’ve ever seen.”

You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumn’s early frost already turning the ground to stone. “Shut up, Joel,” you mutter.

“That always work for ya? How haven’t you gotten shot yet?” He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap you’ve adorned with the decapitated clicker’s face.

(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms don’t matter.)

“Yep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.”

“It’s a good impression, darlin’, but it’s not quite enough to trick me.” He’s drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face.

You roll your eyes. “You a clicker whisperer or something?”

His lips curl. “Not quite, no.” He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go.

When you look back up at his face, you’re caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.

“You got somewhere to stay tonight?” he says, instead of acknowledging the way you’ve drawn a breadth closer.

“Sure do,” you drawl.

He chuckles. “Alright, keep your secrets. But, uh—my back ain’t what it used to be, so the forest floor ain’t gonna work for me today.”

Your lips curl. “Presumptuous, are we?”

“You’re lookin’ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’tcha?”

“Guess you must be desperate, then, ‘f’you’re back for an old man like me.”

“Guess so,” you hum and give in. “How d’you always find me?”

“Hmm, don’t you worry ‘bout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and I’ve got some of Tommy’s peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.”

“My hero,” you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal ‘gimmie’ gesture at his backpack.

“Could be, y’know,” he mumbles.

You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger.

“Nope, not yet,” he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. “If I give it to you now, you’ll just run off, and then what’ll I have?”

“A sense of satisfaction from being kind?”

You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe “house” but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected.

“Calm down, I already cleared it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.”

“You mean so you don’t break a knee fuckin’ me over a log?”

“It didn’t break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?”

“Old as shit,” you mutter.

He just grins.

“What?”

“Nothin’. You just get brattier the longer you’re away. Ain’t got any good cock back home?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, but it’s close to the truth. There’s cock back home, sure, but then you’d have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joel’s ruined you.

Ruined you with intent and precision, and now he’s taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodge’s dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room.

You whistle. “Did you clean this just for me?” You ask, batting your lashes.

“If I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. “So get your ass up here.”

You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch.

“You think I brought you here for you to ride me? Y’can do that shit in the woods. Get up here.”

You hesitate. “I live in a fucking camp, Joel.” The “without running water” bit is obvious but unspoken.

“I do not give a shit,” he says bluntly. “Get up here.”

“Your funeral,” you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. You’re barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him.

It’s been… longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasn’t done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckin’ terrible because this is nothing like you’ve ever known.

But he doesn’t dive in and rush it. He doesn’t go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesn’t push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock.

Oh, no. You’ve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. He’s brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckin’ time with you.

His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy.

“Shit,” he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. “It’s been too goddamn long.” He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you can’t wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response.

He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. “Mmm, baby, is all this for me?”

“Shoulda known you wouldn’t shut up,” you mutter, even though you’re addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.

“Shut me up then,” he says in a way you simply cannot refuse.

You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work.

You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips.

“Y’ain’t quittin’ on me, are ya?” He taunts.

“I thought you were gonna shut up.”

He smacks your ass. “Turn around.”

When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. “Get nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, he’s diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing.

Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but it’s so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick.

He spanks you again. “Don’t be a tease.”

You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and it’s all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway.

You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you.

You can’t hold back your questions now that you’re back up and running. “How d’you have the time for this?”

“Hmm?” Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up.

You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. “You’re usually in a rush.”

He turns a little pink. “Don’t matter.”

“Uh, it clearly does. I’m asking.”

“Well, it’s nunya.”

You groan. “Think I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall.

You shrug. “Gone forever,” you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically.

It’s a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face.

“I’m on watch here,” he says once you stop screeching indignantly.

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” you let him know solemnly.

“Ain’t alone. M’brother—Tommy,” he clarifies unnecessarily, “S’here too. He’s got it handled.”

“Oh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Aw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you drawl.

He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing is—you know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, he’s been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up.

And you’re pretty sure he’s using Tommy’s cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. You’d be mad at the absolute gall, but… it’s not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.

When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You won’t go with him, so he’ll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #fic: joel drabble #fic: could be

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thepixelelf · 2 months ago

Text

warnings: coarse language. jihoon is so in love it's probably unhealthy. wc: 1092

love triangle au requests

[who's this guy who's everything I'm not?] There is a universe out there where Lee Jihoon is able to say everything he wants to say, when he wants to say it, and exactly how he wants to say it.

But that universe isn't this one.

No, in this world, Lee Jihoon is standing like an idiot in front of the person he came all this way for, in a city he's never stepped foot before, with his mouth opening and closing like those dogs moviemakers would give peanut butter to to make them look like they're talking.

"Jihoon," you say, blinking as if it'll make the mirage he must be disappear. "Holy-- What are you doing here? When did you..."

From your open doorway, you tilt your head to take in Jihoon's appearance. Sweaty. Floundering, and yet with a determined furrow between his eyebrows.

His passport and boarding pass in hand, and a distinct lack of luggage.

"...Did you just fly in?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it again.

God damn it. He got on a plane for this and his tongue still doesn't work -- the same way it didn't when you asked who left the only valentine on your desk in eighth grade. The same way it didn't when your prom date ditched you for some girl, and you finally told Jihoon after his three weeks of torment that it was a ruse you and your date came up with to get that girl jealous all along. The same way it didn't when you told him you applied to a university in a city he'd never even heard of, and to your surprise but not his own because he knows you're capable of anything, you got in.

Today should be different. He clamours, "I-- I had to..."

"Where's your stuff?" you ask incredulously, but there's always... that behind your words. That which made him feel like he could trust you to watch his intricate sand castle in the playground. That which made him go to you with his first ever song lyrics in middle school, when no one else has ever seen them, ever. That which he feels vibrating in his bones or maybe even deeper because you care. You care when you go, "Do you literally only have the clothes on your back?" Even if it sounds blunt. "I swear you've had those shorts since forever. And-- wait, where are you staying? Have you eaten? You're always stupid about hydration, too."

He wants you to shut up so he can talk. But god, he loves when you tell him you care in the most words possible.

"I gotta put some water in you, hold on--"

You go to back up from the doorway. Jihoon's hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can think about the fact that now that he has you in his grasp, he definitely has to speak.

Shit.

You process his hand around your wrist slowly, your eyes blinking slowly like a cat before they look up at his face. He loses all thoughts again.

Well, not all. It's more like his brain fills to the brim with how your eyes look when your face is this close, and it literally can't fit anything else, much less what to say next other than wow.

And he probably shouldn't say that.

But what... (the sunlight is hitting your irises so perfectly) ...should he... (even the concern seeping into your expression is cute) ...say...

"Jihoon--?"

Whatever question you're sure to have asked is cut off when a strong hand separates Jihoon's from your arm, and he breaks his gaze away from you to see a handsome but clearly unwelcoming face. The man regards Jihoon with a certain cautiousness as he wedges himself between you and him, almost pushing you back into your home with a protective arm.

"Are you okay?" he asks you, though he doesn't take his wary eyes off Jihoon. "Who's this?"

You seem a little thrown off. "Uhh..."

Jihoon looks this man up and down, taking in his white tank top and the buff, tan arms that it shows off. His cropped hair isn't styled, but somehow it looks good on him anyway. He's tall.

Annoyingly tall, because to see you, Jihoon has to lean to the side rather than just look over Tank Top's shoulder.

"Who's this?" Jihoon asks right back.

You meet his eyes and come back to the here and now. "Right, uh." Poking your finger into the man's stupid naked bicep, you point at him. "This is Mingyu, my--"

Tank Top interrupts you with, "Husband," as soon as you say, "--roommate."

Your pointed hand transforms into a fist, and you punch it into Tank Top Mingyu's arm. "Hey," you say when he recoils, covers the apparently instantly sore spot, and pouts at you. "I'm fine-- He's an old friend."

But Jihoon can't really focus on that. He's too busy processing.

...

Husband?

"This is Jihoon," your voice says from somewhere far away. "I've probably mentioned him before."

"Oh." Tank Top straightens up, and after faltering for only a second, his eyes brighten like your words flipped a light switch. "That Jihoon?" He turns towards Jihoon. "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry! I just thought, I mean, you know..."

This new Mingyu acts like one of those golden retriever boys from the internet.

You love dogs.

Fuck.

Puppy Mingyu holds out his hand to shake.

Jihoon just stares at it. Then looks at you.

"Husband?"

You shove your way back in front of Mr Sunshine and lightly touch Jihoon's arm. He can barely breathe. "No, no, that was just... I mean, well, kind of-- but also not really because, well..." Pausing, you think for a moment and torture Jihoon for one million years. "Okay. We're roommates, but Mingyu started telling people at work that he's married so people would stop hitting on him or trying to set him up with their kids... except that was obviously stupid and now I'm kind of caught up in that lie and occasionally picking him up from company gatherings pretending he's my, uh, 'husband'."

"Oh." Jihoon nods slowly; he's underwater, ears plugged. "Okay."

Mingyu drops his hand after a couple seconds of zero reciprocation. "Haha, uhm, anyways... Did you want to come in?"

"Oh." Jihoon nods again. "Okay."

Your touch on Jihoon's arm becomes a little stronger. "You look a little pale. Come in and let me get you that water, yeah?"

"Oh." Yeah. "Okay."

As Jihoon ambles into your home -- your shared home with some guy who introduced himself as your husband but isn't your husband but chose you to be in his marriage but it's a fake marriage but -- he wants to say the things he's always wanted to say. Fuck, he's been wanting and wanting forever.

But he can't.

Not only because he can't form the words; that's been his problem since the beginning and was supposed to be his last hurdle today.

No.

He can't because your fake husband smiled at you in front of him.

And that smile looked nothing like a lie.

part 2 (mingyu's pov)

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luveline · 10 months ago

Note

hello lovely, I was wondering if I could ask for a soft remus request. maybe loser!reader where someone made them feel invisible and remus comforts them? I hope that makes sense ily <3

ily ty for requesting!! <3 fem, 1.3k

“Come on, poppet,” Sirius says in one of his teasing tones as he puts a hefty looking glass of pale ale in front of you, “cheer up and get sloshed.”

“Oh, I really don’t want to drink tonight,” you say, surprised he’d get you something.

“That’s for me. This,” —he puts a short glass to the pale ale— “is for you. From him.”

You look up from the dark table to spy said him across the way. Remus stands behind the bar with a relaxed smile, arms holding himself up and biceps just that little bit tight against his sleeves. You send him a shy smile.

It’s an ice cold mix of your favourite. You send him another smile as you drink it, not sure how to cope with the fact that he’s still looking at you when you do. He raises his eyebrows a touch before a customer steals his attention.

“He should really quit,” James says happily. “He’s enabling me.”

You push the bowl of roasted peanuts toward him. “Abstinence,” you say. You’re still feeling wobbly, not quite happy, but better to move forward then dwell on things. Plus, Remus’ nice smile reminds you that he’s on your side.

“Remus gives you a Help to Stop card every time you buy a second round,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes.

“But Marlene lets me drink as much as I want.” James waves at her. She blows him a kiss from the table she’s bussing two chairs over. “Bad place. Takes advantage of me. And there’s too much riff raff.”

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. “Right.”

They chat to each other enough to make up for your silence and Remus’ absence. He’ll be off any minute now, joining you for a quick drink if he’s awake enough to manage it before you head home. You can’t bring yourself to watch him, knowing he’ll be chatting, giving pretty girls polite smiles and prettier boys their refills. He can be charismatic when he wants to be. He’s a natural flirt deep down. You hope he doesn’t flirt with other people.

He wouldn’t.

Or maybe he would? You’re not exciting like that.

“Penny for your thoughts, lovely girl?”

He says it quietly, pressing his pet name into the side of your head as he slips into the chair next to yours. Suddenly he’s here. He sneaks up on you too often.

“Not worth the penny,” you murmur back.

“I don’t think that’s true. Do you want another drink? I’ve closed my line, but I–”

You shake your head, not having finished the first one he sent over. He smells like the too sweet cloy of beer, but his breath is minty on your cheek. “Fine, be that way. You make it hard to spoil you.”

“Yuck.”

“Ew,” he agrees. Remus gives the top of your shoulder a gentle shake. “Not feeling well?”

“She was attacked, Moons, I told you this,” Sirius says.

You glare at him as Remus says, “Mm. You okay?”

“I wasn’t attacked, that’s– you know. It was the opposite of an attack. I was–” Ignored. You attempt to shove it down even as the memory surges up, the heat of knowing you’d been deemed a loser, the shrug off, the giggling. “Sirius.”

“What? If I didn’t tell him he would’ve been pissed off with me and you know I can’t afford butter right now. I need my toast fix.”

James and Sirius are nice, good guys, but Remus is the only person who can really make you feel better. He knows it. You all know it. But it’s too embarrassing to divulge the details of what happened. You’d told Sirius and James in a strange flustered panic as you sat down, and you don’t fancy telling the story again.

In the bathroom, there had been a group of girls taking photographs. You didn’t know them, but they were around your age, beautiful, and giggling at not being able to fit in one photograph.

I can take it, you’d offered. That way you can all be in the frame?

One girl smiled at you but the rest didn’t even look up. You know you’d said it loudly. You seem to have this effect on people. Total invisibility.

“Can’t afford butter, can’t afford his own pints,” Remus says, reaching under the table to touch your thigh. His fingertips dig into the softer part of the inner thigh as he brushes downward to your knee. “Next I’ll be paying his rent.”

“It’s the least you could do,” James says. “Do you think they’ll put the rugby on if I ask?”

Remus stands and beckons for you to come with him. “Where are we going?” you ask.

“Home?” He holds out his hand for you to take. “The shop first.”

He twines your fingers and waves to the boys. You’ll see them again in an hour or two when they come home, but as soon as you and Remus leave the pub, you might as well be all alone in the world. It’s dark as pitch despite the early evening hour and twice as cold, wind like needles thrown at your hands. Remus puts his open hand out to pull your empty one into his side. It’s a funny way to walk.

“Are you terribly upset?”

“Mm… no,” you decide.

“James said you,” —his voice turns soft and careful— “looked a little bit welled up. Like you might cry. It’s okay if you were upset.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Dove, if you were to be believed, everything is embarrassing. But you’ve never done anything to be embarrassed of.” You take your hands back. “Oh, except that.”

You laugh as he snatches your hands back, your laughter whipped away with the mean winds as you make your way through the alley that leads to the small corner shop on the way home. “No one sees me like you,” you say.

“People are fucking rude,” he says with a shrug. “They could’ve at least said they were fine.”

“I don’t know if it’s rude–”

“It is–”

“I’m a stranger and they were probably fine without my help. But it was weird to have nobody say anything. It made me feel so silly.”

“If it were you,” Remus says, weight in his words as glances at you from the side, his hair dancing away from his ears, “you would’ve looked them in the eyes and said no, thanks. You would’ve acknowledged them. It’s not kind to treat people like they don’t matter.”

“I don’t matter.”

Your weak tone slows his pace.

“I mean, not to them,” you correct.

Remus slides an arm over your shoulder, humming from his chest. “Yes, you do,” he says, kissing your cheek, “of course you matter. You’re everything to the people who love you. You’re more than that to me. Please don’t think otherwise.” He presses his lips and chin to your temple. “Yeah?” he asks quietly. “You matter, dove, you do.”

“Why does this happen to me so often?” you ask in a similar quiet.

“You’re not like everyone else.” He grins at you. “We’re not like other people. Thank god.” His lips press again to your cheek. “I hope all their pictures turn out shit.”

“Sorry if I’m overreacting.”

“I think you’re underreacting. I think I should go back and have them banned.” Remus gives you one last kiss before he steps back, ushering you down the pavement to the neon lights of the corner shop. “But I’m going to buy you some chocolates instead. Is that alright? Should I go back?”

He starts walking back the way you came. You catch tight to his hand and force him into the shop before he can get too far away.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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bellaxgiornata · 3 months ago

Text

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter Four|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 4.1k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

a/n: Saint Matthew strikes again in this fluffy-ish(?) chapter that has been my favorite to write so far. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @danzer8705 @scriptedmoon @flowher @wanda-maxamommy @guccicloudz @loves0phelia @withasideofmeg @mattmurdock-wife24 @sarraa-26 @mylastarrival @mdanon027 @kmc1989 @abiisscared

“Dinner?”

“We'll see what we've got, cricket.”

The sound of voices in the hallway broke through Matt’s sleeping mind, pulling him back to consciousness. Groggily stirring on his couch, Matt tried to focus his senses around him as he rubbed a hand across his forehead. Waking from sleep always left him a bit disoriented, especially the rare times he allowed himself a short nap.

“Chicken nuggets?”

“You know I'm–I'm not too sure if we have any left, but we can look when we get inside.”

Pushing himself slowly upright on the couch with a hand, the leather groaned beneath his weight. As he continued to listen to the voices outside of his apartment, Matt quickly realized he was overhearing you and your daughter in the hallway. Leaning forward and resting his elbows along his thighs, he tilted his head towards the wall where the pair of you were now standing in front of your own apartment door.

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m sure we have something I can make for dinner tonight, Evie.”

A frown settled on Matt’s mouth, his tired eyes narrowing as he focused closer on your body out in the hall. It sounded sluggish, as if you were exhausted and low on energy, and if he concentrated really hard, he could hear the faint rumblings of your stomach. You were both hungry. And with the hesitant way you’d just responded to your daughter along with the burst of anxiety inside of you at your last statement, he’d begun to wonder how true it actually had been.

Shifting on the couch, Matt did what he’d told himself he wouldn’t continue to do. He focused on you as you made your way into your apartment. He found it odd how your young daughter didn’t seem to say much, even now when it was just the pair of you alone in your own place. Something about that unsettled him. A child so young shouldn’t constantly be so timid and quiet.

He heard you set something down on your kitchen counter–a purse most likely. He listened as you took four steps before you opened what sounded like your refrigerator door. There was a soft, quiet sigh that even he’d barely caught as you closed that door seconds later and opened the other. A few items faintly shifted around on the shelf as you clearly searched for something in your fridge.

“Sorry, cricket, there’s no chicken nuggets. I’ll have to add them to the grocery list for this weekend. But I can make us peanut butter and jelly for dinner. How does that sound?”

“No bread.”

“Oh,” Matt heard you reply, your cheerful tone instantly shifting to something disheartened. “You’re right. I uhm, I guess we might need to–to make a trip to the store before dinner then. Maybe we can find something to make for tonight.”

Your heart rate had accelerated as you spoke, the sound piquing Matt’s curiosity. Why had you suddenly become so nervous at the prospect of going shopping? But then he heard you picking up the object you’d set on your counter, the soft noise of a zipper confirming that it had indeed been your purse. That’s when he understood–you were looking for your wallet. Probably to see what cash you had on you in order to find groceries for tonight. You were probably nervous because you knew how little you’d find to help you.

Eyes closing, Matt blew out a deep breath as he buried his face in his hands. So his suspicions had been correct, you were struggling financially. Even with being able to afford to feed your daughter. He felt sick to his stomach listening to your growing panic in the apartment across the hall in what was clearly a very vulnerable moment for you.

Desperately Matt wished he could head over to your place right now, knock on your door, and offer you that job that Foggy and Karen had agreed upon letting you have earlier this week. Except there was absolutely no way Matt could realistically do that without making you entirely uncomfortable and possibly scaring you further away from him. Because he’d barely ever spoken to you, there was no realistic reason that he should’ve known about the situation you’d found yourself in or for him to offer you a job.

But he also couldn’t just sit here in his apartment and let you both continue to go hungry.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, he tried hard to think of how he could help you. Chewing the inside of his cheek, his mind ran over countless different ideas before it finally settled on one realistic one. Lowering his hands from his face, a small smile slipped onto his mouth. While he may not have had an excuse to go over to your place and offer you that part-time position just yet, there was something else he could do to immediately help the pair of you and possibly open the door to communication between you both.

Getting up from his couch, Matt began to make his way into the kitchen and over towards his fridge. Mentally he was already trying to prepare himself for what he would say to you when you opened the door for him because he needed to make this interaction count. He couldn’t afford to have you slam the door on his face–or worse, completely refuse to answer.

“Thank you, Mrs. Amato,” he whispered under his breath as he pulled a dish out of his fridge.

Pulling your wallet out of your purse, you tried to calm the sick feeling in your stomach. You already knew how much cash you had in there. A single twenty dollar bill. And that was all you had until you got paid again next Friday.

Plastering a smile onto your face, you glanced up at Evie. She was standing at the edge of the kitchen, the glaringly empty living room behind her only cementing your feelings of inadequacy. But now wasn’t the time for focusing on that–you needed to find a way to stretch twenty dollars and fast.

“Hey, how about you go put your backpack away in your room while I try to figure something out for dinner?” you suggested.

Silently Evie turned and headed over to her bedroom. Pressing your lips together, you watched her until she disappeared from your sight. Once she had, you focused back down on the wallet in your hands, spotting the lone twenty dollar bill sitting in your otherwise empty wallet. Shoulders dropping in defeat, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it last all of next week now.

Two soft knocks came from the door behind you, the unexpected sound startling you so much that you dropped your wallet back inside of your purse. Your heart jumped into your throat just as Evie poked her head out of her bedroom, her eyes growing wide and terrified. Yet again you did your best to plaster a calm smile on your face, not wanting to worry her further. Because while you didn’t know who was at your door, and while you were almost positive it wasn’t your ex-fiance, your fear had still sky-rocketted at the sound. The fact that someone was here when you didn't expect company was enough to put you on edge.

“It’s alright, I got it, cricket,” you told her.

Mouth going dry, you stepped out of your kitchen and nervously made your way towards the door. You weren't sure who you’d find on the other side because it had barely been a week since you'd moved in. You'd intentionally gone out of your way not to speak to anyone in the building, so there was no reason someone should've been trying to visit you right now.

Placing both of your hands very carefully against the door, you leaned forward and peered through the peephole. Sucking in a sharp breath, you were shocked to see your neighbor standing in the hallway. The same man from across the hall who you just couldn’t seem to get away from this week. You were about to lock the deadbolt and tell him to leave until he shifted his weight on his feet and you caught sight of what looked like a glass dish covered in tinfoil in his hands.

Was he bringing you food? Because that was…odd. You were in the middle of New York City, why the hell would your neighbor be bringing you food? Even where you’d lived previously just outside of the city, no one had been that friendly. Had he somehow overheard you and Evelyn talking about dinner in the hall? But even then, as you replayed the short conversation in your mind, nothing you’d said had implied that you were both in need of anything.

You’d truly contemplated telling this man to go away as you stood there watching him through the peephole. It was strange that he kept randomly appearing around you this week. But as you stood there chewing your bottom lip, you knew that if he was bringing you food–for whatever reason that he was–you weren’t entirely in the position to turn it down. Because a stranger’s kindness, however unexplainable, would certainly help you make it to your next paycheck.

Inhaling a deep breath, you tried hard to calm your nerves as you began to unlock your door. After all, he was only carrying a dish of food, not some sort of weapon, and when you’d very briefly encountered him on the roof a few nights ago he’d sounded friendly at least. Though there was still a part of you that internally screamed danger whenever you saw him, and you’d yet to put your finger on why.

Opening your door only halfway, your trembling right hand still gripping it in case you needed to slam it shut, you took in the sight of your neighbor. He was standing there in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a crumpled olive green tee-shirt–a vast difference from the nicer suit you’d first spotted him in at the beginning of the week. There was a bright smile on his face beneath the red-tinted glasses sitting atop his nose. Your eyes didn’t fail to miss the small cut along his chin behind his stubble though, your gaze lingering along it as you nervously licked your lips.

“Can I help you?” you asked after a moment.

“Hey, I’m your neighbor across the hall,” the man greeted, his voice like honey to your ears as he spoke. “6A?”

One of his hands briefly released the bottom of the dish he was holding to gesture at the door behind himself. Your eyes followed the movement before coming back to land on the dish in his hands. It looked like a glass dish filled with lasagna and your stomach gave a faint rumble. Your hand nervously gripped your door tighter, hoping he hadn’t caught the sound as your attention returned to his smiling face.

“Hi,” you replied awkwardly.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” he continued, clearly unphased by the tone of your voice. “My name is Matthew Murdock. I’m a lawyer over at Nelson, Murdock, and Page. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of us before, but we're known for helping out many folks in the Hell’s Kitchen area.”

“I haven’t,” you stated simply.

The man’s smile wavered for the briefest of seconds, but it didn’t completely disappear from his face. It was true, though. You hadn’t been in the city long enough to have become familiar with much in it yet. While you’d been at Hope Haven, you’d been more focused on getting you and Evie set up to make a life in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t exactly have a need to go searching for lawyers–not unless Daniel found you. But even then, you weren’t sure there was a single lawyer that you could afford who could save you and Evelyn from him.

“Well, we often tend to do a lot of pro bono work for clients in the area who understandably can’t afford a lawyer,” he continued, almost as if he’d read your mind. “And they tend to show their appreciation for our help with meals and baked goods–and sometimes far too much fruit.”

He chuckled good-naturedly as he held up the lasagna in his hands. Your eyes once more dropped down to the dish and you swore you could smell the delicious red sauce through the tinfoil.

“I just thought I’d bring over some food to welcome you to the building,” Matthew continued. “I know with a big move sometimes it's hard to find the time to cook or even pick up groceries, so I thought this might help give you a little break this week.” His charming smile grew even wider, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes behind his red lenses. “But I’ll be honest and admit upfront that I did not make this lasagna, so I can't exactly take credit for it. One of our clients made it as a thank you for dealing with some issues with her landlord.”

You eyed Matthew curiously as he stood in the hallway just in front of your door, examining his friendly and charming smile beneath those red glasses. While there was a part of you that still felt an unexplainable sense of danger from him–the hair on your forearm having prickled beneath his unseeing gaze–there was a smaller part of you that felt his sincerity. After all, how often did you hear about lawyers who handled pro bono cases happily getting paid in lasagna and fruit?

Still, you found him incredibly strange and you planned to remain on your guard with him.

“And why exactly is it that you're giving away a lasagna to a neighbor you don’t even know?” you asked cautiously.

He shrugged lightly in response. “I certainly don’t need an entire lasagna for myself. I’m just one man, there’s only so much I can eat.” He paused, a soft, disarming chuckle falling past his lips again. “I’m still trying to make my way through the soup I was generously gifted the other day. But if I’m also being honest–”

He leaned forward towards you but the unexpected proximity had you startle backwards a step, your hand squeezing your door in response. Strangely it almost seemed like he’d hesitated, as if he’d somehow known you’d moved despite being unable to see you.

“I don’t want the food to go to waste and I’d much prefer to drop it by your place than over at Mrs. Henderson’s in 6C,” he finished conspiratorially. “She frightens me a little. Very big flirt, that one. Doesn’t matter if she’s in her late sixties and widowed.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly as he leaned away from you once more. Curiously you thought you saw him even shuffle a step backwards into the hallway.

“Right,” you said, uncertain how to respond to that.

“But I’m sure you’re busy this evening and I'd hate to take up any more of your time,” Matthew continued, extending the lasagna out towards you. “I was told the instructions to heat this up were on a post-it note on top, but considering that I can’t see it, I’m certainly hoping that’s true.”

You glanced down at the yellow post-it note on the tinfoil. It did in fact have the reheating instructions noted. But instead of reaching out and taking the dish from him, you awkwardly stood there, your right hand still firmly grasping your door. Matthew’s smile finally fell at your hesitation.

“I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable in any way. I can leave,” he said. “I was hoping this would be a friendly gesture. I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know that if you ever needed something, I’m just across the hall.”

“Why?” you blurted.

His dark brows furrowed beneath his glasses, his head tilting just a bit to the side. “Why what?” he asked.

“Why’re you coming across the hall to welcome a neighbor to the building?” you questioned. “That seems quite uncharacteristic of someone in the city. At least, from the time I’ve been here so far. People are not generally this friendly unless they want something in return. And I'm not looking to owe anyone any favors.”

The charming smile returned to his mouth as he shrugged once more. “Maybe it’s my Catholic upbringing,” he told you, “but I prefer to be kind whenever the opportunity presents itself. But I assure you that I absolutely do not want anything in return. I promise.”

Your eyes dropped back down to the dish in his extended hands. You did, in fact, want to accept it, but you still felt uncomfortable at the idea of it.

“I…don't really know what to say,” you awkwardly confessed.

“You don't need to say anything at all,” he assured you.

Cautiously releasing the firm hold you had on your door, you slowly reached out and accepted the dish from his outstretched hands. You eyed him curiously as the smile on his face somehow grew wider when you did.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“You're welcome,” he replied. “I hope you and your daughter enjoy it. And if you're a fan of baked goods, I know for a fact that we're receiving far too many peanut butter cookies on Monday. I'd be happy to drop some off because I certainly don't need them all.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, clutching the heavy glass dish in your hands, “that's alright. Really. We don't–”

You stopped short when something tugged at your dress slacks. Glancing down beside your leg you spotted Evie with one of her small fists curled around the dark fabric. She looked up at you and then over at your neighbor.

“Cookies?” she asked.

Matthew's head turned towards the sound of your daughter’s voice. The softening of his expression somehow almost completely eased that feeling of danger you often felt around him with the way he was now smiling down at Evie. He almost looked trustworthy. Safe.

Almost . Which made you even further suspicious of him.

“Hello there,” he greeted gently. “I'm–”

“Mr. Murdock,” Evie said.

Shifting the heavy casserole dish over to your left arm and cradling it against your chest, your other hand landed protectively along her back and held her close to you. You were surprised she'd even come over and spoken to him because she usually disliked strangers and kept quiet. She must have sensed something else in him than you initially had.

“That’s right,” he said, still warmly smiling in her direction. “We're always getting sent so many baked goods. And it's up to your mother, but I could certainly bring you some cookies next Monday after work if you'd like?”

Evie's attention shifted to you, her wide hopeful eyes silently pleading with you. She didn't often get sweets anymore because they weren't a priority when you were budgeting groceries for the week, so you knew exactly what that look meant. She wanted you to accept the offer of cookies. But that also meant another inevitable interaction with your neighbor and this one was already one too many for your liking.

But it was Evie and you’d do just about anything to make her happy.

With a sigh, you nodded at her before focusing back on Matthew. “If it's not too much trouble, I think Evie would like that,” you told him. “Thank you.”

“No trouble at all Ms….?”

Your lips pressed together for a moment, your initial instincts fighting you to give away your name and briefly causing you to hold your tongue. Though you had just given him Evie’s name and he already knew where you lived. What more harm was there if he knew your name, too?

Quietly you gave it to him, your stomach twisting into nervous knots. He repeated it softly, somehow the sound further calming you as he did.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said, already taking a step backwards towards his door. “And I meant what I said. If you ever need anything, I'm just across the hall.”

A tight smile settled onto your lips even though you knew he couldn't see it as you nodded. “Thank you,” you replied, full well planning not to ask him for anything more. “I'll keep that in mind.”

You watched as he finally turned before you shut the door one-handed, the dish of lasagna still cradled against your chest. As weird as that whole interaction had been, at least you didn't have to worry about dinner for the next few nights.

“I guess we're having lasagna tonight, cricket,” you said, carrying the dish over to your kitchen counter. “Sound good?”

Glancing over your shoulder at Evie, you saw the expression brighten her face. She nodded enthusiastically in response and the sight managed to put a smile on your own face.

Whoever that Mr. Murdock was, he'd at least put a smile on your daughter’s face tonight with his kindness.

“Mama!!”

Eyes flying wide open at the unexpected scream that ripped you from a dead sleep, you felt your heart nearly jolt out of your chest. By the time you heard your daughter shout for you a second time, you were already scrambling out of your blanket and rising to your feet.

“I'm coming, Evie!” you yelled back.

This was why you slept in front of your daughter’s door. Because it took you a matter of seconds to throw it wide open.

Rushing inside her bedroom, you found Evie out of her sleeping bag and standing by the window across the room. You dropped down to your knees once you reached her, immediately beginning to inspect her with your hands for any sign of injury.

“What is it?” you asked her in a panic. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”

She nodded her head, your eyes drawn back up to her face. Despite her having shouted for you, she didn't look terrified. She appeared startled and a little surprised, but not scared.

“I saw him,” she told you.

Hands making their way back up to her shoulders, your brows furrowed at her words. “Who?” you asked her slowly. “You saw who?”

“The man,” she answered, turning at the waist and pointing to her window. “Outside.”

Your eyes flew to the window, scanning the rooftops beyond the fire escape outside of her room. There was nothing to see though. And with how bright the billboard across the street was, you would have been able to see if someone was there.

This wasn't the first time this week Evie had told you she'd been seeing a masked man outside her window out on the rooftops. At first when she had told you about seeing someone, you'd let your fear take hold of you, worried it was somehow Daniel out there trying to torment you. But then when she hadn't been afraid of the man, you'd begun to worry that her fear of her father had led her to conjure up some masked imaginary figure that she kept seeing at nighttime when she was supposed to be asleep.

“Cricket,” you said softly, your attention returning to her, “I've told you already. There's no masked man on the roof.” You reached a hand up, gently cupping her cheek. “Sweetheart, you're just dreaming. Okay? No one is out there. We're safe here, remember?”

“ He keeps us safe.”

Her strange comment gave you pause, your lips parting as you wondered what that even meant. Shaking your head a second later, you rose back up to your feet. At least this masked man wasn't giving her nightmares.

“Let's get you back to bed, alright?” you suggested.

With a hand on her shoulder, you guided her across the room and back over to her sleeping bag. Despite being grateful that everything was alright after how terrified her screaming had made you, you really weren't a fan of her constantly waking at night because of this imaginary man.

“He is real,” she whispered.

Expelling a soft sigh, you helped your daughter get back into her sleeping bag, tucking her in as you smiled down at her. If she wanted to believe some man on the roof was keeping you safe, you weren’t about to tell her that she was wrong.

“Alright, Evie,” you replied. “But it's late. You should get back to sleep. You can tell me all about it in the morning. Okay?”

You leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek before gently smoothing her hair. Telling her goodnight one more time, you got up and made your way back out of the room. But before you shut the door after yourself, you caught her quiet voice once more behind you.

“He is real.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock series

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