#somebody take ao3 away from me right now

[loquarocoeur]

YES

Exactly, this is everything, could not have said it better, this is all that goes on in Charles' head

Pretty boy in my lap. Pretty boy curled up comfortably in my arms. Pretty boy looking up at me with big watery eyes. Pretty boy hiding his face in my neck. Pretty boy letting my hands wander over him, doing whatever I want, touching however I want. Pretty boy breathing and moaning into my skin. Pretty boy squirming and losing his mind a little bit. Pretty boy begging me for more. Pretty boy tilting his head up, wanting a kiss. Pretty boy being so so good for me, and I lose my mind a little bit.

[imagine-you]

won't somebody come take me home? [Logan/Reader]

Summary: You've been abandoned to the Void after experiencing heartbreak in your universe. Instead of becoming food for Alioth or one of Cassandra's underlings, you find a new family with the resistance seeking to bring her down. When Johnny doesn't come back to the hideout, you keep watch in the hopes of seeing his return. Instead, you find a Deadpool variant fighting someone who looks achingly familiar. Someone who reminds you of your old life and the person who broke your heart. When you finally come face to face with a Logan after being pruned from your universe, you're not expecting the longing you're met with or the fact that in his universe, you were his wife. Word Count: 7.7k Author's Note: I've wanted to write for X-Men for so long and then I saw Deadpool and Wolverine and fell in love with Logan all over again. If you like this, please let me know! I'm so nervous about writing for a new fandom. And if you want to see more X-Men stuff from me, please let me know that as well! Reader's song for this is definitely I'm With You by Avril Lavigne, but I kind of imagine Logan's ends up being Hanging By a Moment by Lifehouse.

closer to where I started // all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

Read on AO3

Everyone in the Void had a tragic backstory that was befitting a hero or villain or anything in between. You were the ones who were lost, abandoned, or forgotten by your worlds and the people you cared about more than anyone else.

You didn't remember much about how you got to the Void, but you had a pretty good understanding of why you were dropped into the barren wasteland for the multiverse's landfill.

Like most people in the Void, you were here because of heartbreak. The one person you had loved with your entire being had loved someone else. You had given him your all, but he only gave you a piece of himself. And when he ripped that piece of himself away, leaving you aching and broken, you were swept out like unwanted trash and right into the Void.

"What's got you so down today, ma chérie?" Remy dropped down into the chair at your side.

You huffed out a laugh that was nowhere near amused. "Besides the fact that we're all stuck here and trying to avoid Cassandra and her wandering fingers?" You brought your hand up and wriggled them in Remy's face, reluctantly letting out a laugh when he snapped his teeth at them.

"Ah, there's that smile," he mused, bumping his shoulder into yours. "You thinkin' 'bout your old life?"

You rolled your eyes, inanely feeling your throat tighten as you fought the urge to cry. You kept your gaze on the bottle of whiskey on the table. Remy reached for it, but he met resistance and turned a glare on you.

You shrugged your shoulders before dropping the forcefield. "I had a dream about him last night," you admitted with a scowl. "About what happened and how no one on my team had my back. How they all thought it was inevitable." You snorted before you quickly grabbed the bottle and took a swig, relishing the burn that traveled down your throat and sent warmth pulsing through your chest. You handed it over to Remy, ignoring his obvious annoyance.

"Listen, you're a lot better off now than you were with those fuckers," he consoled as he finally wrapped his hand around the bottle. "But don't go gettin' between me and my drink, now," he warned, his eyes briefly flashing red before fading away. "I'm not like those assholes who abandoned you. You've got nothin' to hate me for."

"You're real shit at pep talks, you know that?" Johnny cut in, knocking into Remy as he walked by. "Leave Y/N alone. She doesn't want to put up with your bullshit right now."

"And you suppose she wants to put up with yours? All you've got is bullshit," Remy taunted, idly twirling a card between his fingers. It was half a threat, but Johnny would only fight fire with fire and Remy knew it. Elektra had forbidden both of them from using their powers in the hideout, since they had almost burned it down last time.

"Will you both just stop?" You groaned, letting your head hit the table. Someone reached out to pat you on the shoulder, but you didn't bother to look and see who did it. "I love and respect you both dearly, but if you leave another scorch mark in here, then we'll all be in trouble."

Remy obediently stowed the card back up his sleeve while Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," he sighed before making for the door. “See you later.”

"Where are you going?" You called, watching him retreat.

"I'll be around," Johnny answered, shooting you a smirk over his shoulder. "I always come back, don't I?"

You didn't get a chance to respond before he was gone. You always worried about Johnny when he went on his little trips around the Void. He swore he would be careful not to run into any of Cassandra's goons, but you knew all of your days were limited. Whether it was Alioth or Cassandra or one of the many rogue Deadpools wandering around, it was only a matter of time before trouble found you.

Remy stood up and placed the half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of you. "Just this once," he allowed with a wink. "You appreciate that, though, you hear?"

"Thanks," you muttered before reaching for the bottle.

You spent the rest of the day trying to block out the dream while you trained with Laura.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't realize you had company.

"Damn, what's got you so riled up?"

You turned to look at Eric, surprised to see him standing there. You then realized your knuckles had split open and you had trashed the makeshift punching bag you had made out of an old blanket and some sand.

"Nothing," you deflected, half-tempted to go invisible just so no one could see you. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, you knew you had his full attention and you didn't want another lecture on leaving your past behind.

No one on your team was good at that, but you were arguably the worst at letting your pain go.

You always hated when you dreamt about Logan. His last words to you echoing in your mind over and over. You hadn't been enough for him, but Jean? Jean was everything he wanted. You supposed your powers paled in comparison and you would never measure up when all you could do was conjure forcefields and become invisible. Logan had been in love with her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, but you had never seen that look on his face when he looked at you.

It was a pity that you had given Logan everything only to be cast aside for the one who truly held his heart.

If Johnny were there, he would have told Blade to mind his own business, but he still hadn't come back.

"Again," Laura prompted, drawing your attention towards the punching bag. It was half-demolished, but you figured you still had some fight in you.

You noticed her shake her head at Eric as you turned away and focused all your hurt into your fists, watching the bag fall apart.

Johnny hadn't returned by the next morning and you were starting to worry.

You considered everyone your family, but you had a special bond with Johnny. He had been the first person to welcome you to the resistance and you, specifically your powers, had reminded him of his sister. He opened up to you about how much he missed his team, his family, and you told him about the heartbreak you had endured in your universe.

"I'll tell you what, if I ever get my hands on your Logan, I'll light the fucker on fire."

You felt a laugh bubble out of you. It was the first time you had laughed in ages and it felt so good to know you could still find joy in things. "He'd just regenerate."

"Not when I'm done with him," Johnny promised. "I'll cook him 'til he's just a heap of ash and then you'll dance on his remains."

You shook your head, but let Johnny carry on with his elaborate plan for revenge on your behalf. Johnny would never meet your Logan and you knew you would never actually see him again. Everyone in the Void was forgotten and there was no escape.

"You worried about Johnny?" Elektra wondered, coming to stand at your side.

You were keeping an eye on the horizon, searching for any sign that Johnny was coming home.

"It's not like him to be gone this long without some kind of message he's okay.

"He's gotten this far, hasn't he?" Elektra pointed out, shooting you a reassuring look. "He'll be fine."

You nodded your head, but didn't budge from your spot.

"You plan on staying out here all night?" Elektra asked.

"If I have to," you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. "What if he's in trouble?"

"Then you won't be any help to him sleep-deprived," she answered.

"I've had worse," you deflected with a forced grin.

Elektra sighed, but didn't try to dissuade you again.

You had a pair of binoculars Laura had scavenged and you were doing your best to keep an eye on your surroundings. You were surveying a forest when something caught your attention. You focused on the sight, wondering for a moment if Elektra had been right and sleep deprivation was messing with your mind.

You pulled the binoculars away and blinked a few times before looking through them again.

"Ah fuck," you groaned when you realized that what you were seeing was real.

"What's wrong?" Laura asked, startling you.

"Shit," you hissed, nearly dropping the binoculars. You handed them over and pointed towards what previously held your attention. "You see that?"

"Is that--?" Laura cut herself off before shooting you a disbelieving look. "It's him."

"With a Deadpool," you confirmed with a nod of your head.

"We should get them before someone else does," Laura suggested, handing the binoculars back to you.

You hesitated, knowing she was right, but hating the idea of seeing him again.

"I can go alone," Laura offered. You knew she also loved her Logan, but he had been like a father to her up until his final moments. Your Logan had managed to bring you nothing but pain and insecurity.

"No," you told her with a firm shake of your head. Johnny had gone off alone and now it had been almost two days since the last time you saw him. In the Void, that was as good as a death sentence. "I'll go with you."

You let the others know you were off to rescue two new recruits to the resistance and helpfully left out the fact that one of those people was a Logan variant.

Laura led the way and you followed in her tracks. You kept yourself invisible, knowing that if anyone came after Laura, then you could use your presence as a surprise. You had also learned to use your forcefields as a weapon as much as a defense and you were ready if anyone tried to attack.

Once you got to the station wagon, you let yourself become visible again. You slowly approached the car while Laura investigated the clearing for any signs that you might have been followed. You could see the Deadpool variant wrapped up in the seatbelts, but you couldn't help but let your focus stray to Logan.

He was different from your Logan, but seeing his face hurt all the same. Your Logan had taken everything from you and given nothing back except for pain. This Logan was a stranger, but he still brought up familiar feelings. Love and confusion and agony.

"Is he yours?" Laura wondered, finally joining you in your study of Logan.

"No," you assured her. "Mine would've never been caught dead in the yellow suit," you admitted with just the tiniest hint of relief. You never wanted to see your Logan again, but you couldn't help but admit to yourself that didn't mean you never wanted to see any other Logan. You were scared, terrified of the pain he might cause you, but you hadn't been able to let go of the love you held for him. You were sure, even in that moment, that you would love Logan in every universe. It was too bad he wouldn't love you just the same.

Although, you supposed you didn't really have a Logan. You never did, since the one from your universe was never yours in the first place.

Doubt and wariness began to creep in and you started to herd Laura towards the Honda you were half-sure belonged to the Nicepool variant. "You drive," you prompted, opening the passenger door seat and carefully sitting among the wreckage and blood that was practically painted on every surface of the car.

Laura started the car and you glanced over your shoulder, waiting for the two backseat occupants to stir, but they were both still knocked out.

"They really did a number on each other," you muttered, your gaze already back on Logan.

Laura was silent for long enough that you thought she was ignoring you. "It's not your Logan," she reminded you after a couple of minutes. You realized you were still watching him and finally forced yourself to turn around in your seat.

"It's not," you confirmed, studying your hands in your lap. You let them shift in and out of visibility, a nervous habit you had when you were torn between fight and flight.

"Then he's not the one who hurt you," she continued, keeping her focus on the path in front of you.

"He's not the one who saved you," you shot back. The way she looked at this Logan like she was seeing her savior miraculously alive all over again had felt like a punch in the gut. You were both mourning and the source of it had just dropped right back into your lives. "He might be worse," you pointed out.

"He might be better," she argued with a quick glance at you. "He might not even know us."

"Yeah," you sighed, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, silently apologizing for being so defensive. "Eric's right," you conceded with a grimace. "I need to let it go."

"Hard to let something like that go," she allowed with a soft smile at you. She was the only one who knew the full story. Johnny knew most of it and the others knew enough, but Laura had loved her own Logan like family. She knew what it was like to lose him, albeit in a very different way.

When you got back to the hideout, Laura helped free Deadpool while you formed a forcefield around Logan and used it to lift him out of the car. Charles had claimed it was a form of telekinesis, but you always told him you were just controlling the forcefield. Whatever was inside it just happened to move with it. If you dropped the forcefield, then whatever was inside it would fall.

Laura dragged Deadpool inside while you let Logan hover through the air and into the hideout. Laura left Deadpool on the floor, but you were careful with Logan and let him hover just over the bed you used before letting him go.

Laura shot you a bemused look before going to let the others know you had company.

You weren't really sure what to do with yourself, so you settled for pacing from one end of the room to the other. You were halfway across the room when you heard a rustling noise behind you. You half-hoped it was Deadpool waking up, but when you turned around, it was to see Logan squinting up at the ceiling.

You froze, not daring to move a muscle. Logan blinked a few times before he began to sit up. He stopped and then tilted his head up, sniffing the air. You had always found the way he used his enhanced sense of smell adorable, even if no one else did. He suddenly turned and buried his face in your pillow, pulling in deep breaths. He reached up to clutch the pillow in his hand as he sat up, keeping it pressed to his face.

You weren't even really sure what was going on, so by the time he finally lowered the pillow and met your gaze, you were staring at him completely dumbstruck.

Several emotions warred for control on Logan's face when he saw you. Grief, despair, heartbreak, hope, disbelief, and relief. Finally, he seemed to pull them all together into a neutral expression.

"Y/N," he started, taking a step towards you.

You instinctively took a step back. You knew that this Logan wasn't the one who hurt you, but it was hard to let all of that go when someone who looked exactly like your Logan was staring right at you.

"You're alive," he tried again, taking another step, as if he was drawn to you.

"I am," you answered, your hands clenched into fists at your side. You couldn't handle the way Logan was looking at you. He looked at you like you were his whole world. You would have killed to get your Logan to look at you like that. But having it now, from a different Logan, felt equal parts thrilling and unsettling. "Who am I to you?" You asked, needing to know what you were dealing with now. You had assumed maybe you were part of Logan's team in his universe, but he was hopelessly in love with Jean and didn't give a fuck about you. The way he was looking at you told an entirely different story.

"You're--," he started before he looked down at his left hand. You could see a wedding band around his ring finger. "You're my wife," he finally admitted as he balled his hand into a fist. "You were, at least," he added with a grimace. "And me? What am I to you in your universe?"

You didn't know whether to tell the truth or lie. But Logan had always known you way too well and any story you spun would unravel as you told it. "I loved you," you finally confessed. "But you left me for someone else," you continued, noting the way Logan's expression tightened, rage flashing in his eyes.

"Who?" He growled, advancing on you.

It was your biggest shame and worst heartbreak, so you faltered over the name for a moment. But you weren't even in the same universe as her or him anymore and it was time for you to stop running from your pain.

"Jean. He left me for Jean, alright? It didn't matter that I loved him and it didn't matter that we were together. Scott died and Jean needed someone and apparently that couldn't be anyone but him. He told me it was nothing, but I knew. He never looked at me the way you just did. He looked at her like she was the only person he cared about and when he left me for her, I ended up here," you hissed, finally walking towards Logan. "And I bet neither of them ever gave a fuck that I just up and disappeared. So, seeing you now has brought up all the shit he put me through," you snarled, reaching out to push at his shoulder.

"Y/N, I--," he started, reaching out for you. His expression was nearly reverent as he let his hand fall on your shoulder.

"Don't," you said, pushing away from him. "I'm not your wife," you snapped, hating the way his expression closed off and was replaced with that look he got when he was trying not to feel anything at all.

"And I'm not him," he shot back. His gaze drifted to the side and he reached out to grab a bottle of Remy's whiskey. He popped the top off the bottle and took a long swig.

You heard someone groan before you looked over at Deadpool. He brought a hand up to his head and Logan turned to watch him. He took another drink, keeping the bottle close to his chest, as he approached Wade.

"Ugh, what's with the angry bear staring me down?" Wade wondered, finally sitting up. "Also, where the hell are we? Are we about to be skinned and used as decoration for some post-apocalyptic lair?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Logan growled, taking another drink.

You knew it took a lot to get Logan drunk, but at the rate he was going, he would end up there by nightfall.

Deadpool finally scanned the room and noticed you. He got to his feet and pointed a finger at you. "Oh, holy shit. You're Y/N! You're a big part of this guy's tragic backstory, I can tell ya that, so what are you doing here?" Wade reached out to clap a hand to Logan's shoulder and got brushed off.

"That's enough!" Elektra called before walking into the room.

Wade looked shocked to see Elektra, but his eyes went wide at the sight of Blade striding into the room. Gambit then made his entrance before Laura took up the rear of the group.

Introductions went around, before Wade started in on Gambit and his accent. You could tell Remy was reluctantly amused, but he was distracted by something else.

Remy dismissed Wade and focused in on Logan. He shot you a quick, concerned look before he began flipping a card as he studied Logan. "Well, we've never had a Wolverine up in here before. Not sure we've ever wanted one here before," he said with another look at you. "I can tell you now it's just a common courtesy to at least ask before you go drinking up all my liquor."

"It's a good thing I don't give a fuck," Logan responded before taking another drink.

Remy's eyes burned red as he muttered an insult under his breath. He let the card in his hand go, letting it slice the bottle of liquor in half. Glass and whiskey rained down on Logan's boots, but he looked unbothered. He reached out to grab another bottle before pulling the top off and taking a drink.

"Oh, you sure are an asshole, aren't you? I'm starting to see why you hate this one," Remy continued, aiming the last sentence at you.

"You hate him?" Wade asked, whipping his head back and forth, from you to Logan and back again. Wade gasped and turned to point an accusing finger at Logan. "You and you," he pointed to you, "aren't a you in your universe?" He pressed his hands together, letting his fingers interlock. "What'd he do? Was he too busy practicing his brooding in the mirror? He try to slip you a little adamantium surprise in the bedroom? Did he--"

"Shut up," Logan snapped, tightening his grip on the bottle in his hand.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you admonished Wade.

Wade held his hands up in surrender, but he reached out to put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, my friend," he consoled before he approached you. He held his arms out as he walked towards you. "Come here, baby bird, and tell Papa Deadpool all about it," he said as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Get your hands off her," Logan growled, unsheathing his claws.

You brought a forcefield up between you and Wade. It was big enough to encompass his chest and abdomen and you used it to forcefully push him back. You slammed him into the wall, easing up, just to slam him into it again.

"Alright, alright," he coughed out, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don't piss off the Invisible Woman, got it," he conceded as you let your forcefield drop.

You rolled your eyes before crossing your arms over your chest. "That's not what they call me." The reminder of Johnny's sister brought up the worry you had for him. "Where the hell did you two come from?"

Wade did most of the talking and explained about the TVA, Cassandra, and their near-miss with Alioth.

"No one's ever made it out of Cassandra's clutches before," Elektra observed with something verging on respect in her tone.

"No one alive," Eric interjected with an unimpressed glare at Deadpool.

"Well, she is quite terrifying and a little grabby," Wade allowed with a nod of his head.

"One of ours has been missing for two days," you told Wade, carefully not looking at Logan. Logan had been watching you the whole time and you knew he was only mourning a ghost, but you hated how much you liked finally having Logan's undivided attention. "His name is Johnny. Did you see him?"

"The little flameball might've made an appearance, sure, but he's not with us," Wade explained with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Yeah, because you fucking got him killed with your big mouth," Logan snapped at Wade.

"Johnny's dead?" You asked, not wanting to believe it. You loved the others like family, but Johnny had practically been a brother to you. Sure, he let his mouth get him in trouble half the time, but he always managed to get himself out of it. "What the hell happened?"

"Cassandra decided she liked his insides on the outside," Wade answered, "because she's a megalomaniacal, psychotic asshole. Johnny’s words, not mine."

"Well, we've all been knowin' that," Remy said, idly shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. "But what're we gonna do about her, huh? She's got an army and we've just got us."

"Look, you've all been forgotten by your universes, but we can still take her if we team up. You got a Magneto here?" Wade questioned, hope in his voice that you knew was about to be crushed.

You moved to sit down at the table while you listened to the conversation carry on. There was a lot happening all at once and you didn’t know how to process any of it. Wade was desperate to get back to his own timeline, but Logan only seemed resigned. You didn't know how to accept the fact that Johnny was dead and you didn't know how to ignore the fact that Logan was still watching you.

When a plan was made to go after Cassandra and use Juggernaut's helmet to block her powers, you reluctantly agreed that it had some merit. If only because you wanted to get any type of revenge on Cassandra that you could to avenge Johnny.

The others were all on board and you knew most of them wanted nothing more than to bring Cassandra down as well. It was a suicide mission for most of you, but you figured if it meant stopping Cassandra and saving someone's universe, even if that someone was Wade Wilson, then it might be worth it.

"I'm in," you found yourself saying.

"Like hell you are," Logan cut in. "You'll just get yourself killed again and I can't--"

"I'm not dead," you pointed out, aware that the others were watching the pair of you. "I'm right here, because I'm not the one you lost."

"Well, I sure as hell don't want to go losing you again. You can't tell me you think this whackjob's plan is actually going to work out? He’s an idiot."

“Sticks and stones,” Wade muttered, rocking on his heels as he looked at Logan. “Sticks and stones.”

"You can do whatever you want," you told Logan, finally standing from your seat at the table. "But I'm going and if I die? Then at least I die doing something that's not just hiding and waiting for my inevitable end. At least I can help someone, even if it's a Deadpool," you said, gesturing towards Wade.

"Thanks?" Wade tried, sounding torn between flattered and insulted.

You didn't give Logan a chance to reply, because you left the room, opting to walk outside to get some distance from him.

Later, you heard from Remy that you were heading out first thing in the morning. You agreed to be ready by then and spent the rest of the evening invisible. You wanted to be alone, but you also hated the idea of losing one last opportunity to talk to Logan, even if he wasn't yours.

He was outside, staring into the fire he started, and steadily drinking Remy's liquor. You approached him as Laura was leaving his side. Even though you were still invisible, she seemed to know you were there, and walked around you.

You stayed a few feet behind him, watching him frown into the fire.

"I know you're there," Logan called out, turning to look over his shoulder. "You were never good at hiding from me."

You let yourself go visible before you continued to walk towards him. "My Logan didn't really give a shit about me, so I guess he knew where to find me, he just didn't care," you observed with a sigh. Having this Logan around was only showing you what you had missed out on in your universe with your Logan. You reached out to grab the bottle from Logan before taking a drink and handing it back. "You know, I wanted nothing more than for him to love me back. But I wasn't enough for him. And he knew, he knew everything I felt for him, but he never felt the same. I was just someone to warm his bed while his thoughts were with someone else."

Logan was quiet for a few moments before he held the bottle back out to you.

"You've made it clear you're not my wife," he started, keeping his gaze on the fire. "But I don't think you get that I'm not him. I see you and, God, I wish I could keep you safe. I wasn't able to save her. I wasn't able to save any of them and it's my fault my team, my family, my wife are all gone. I walked away and they died because of it," he admitted and you could see a tear begin to slip down his cheek. You had never seen your Logan so vulnerable and you didn't know what to do with this one. "I don't want to lose you again. I know you're not her, but I don't want to walk away and know that you died because of it."

"Then don't walk away," you whispered, moving until you were right beside him. You could feel the heat emanating off him and it sent a shiver down your spine. You had felt the chilling sense of isolation for so long that feeling Logan again felt like you were coming back to life.

"I know I wasn't happy to see you," you allowed with a grimace. "But since you got here, you've done nothing but remind me that I could have had what I wanted all along, but I was stuck in the wrong damn universe. And maybe it was possible for my Logan to love me all along and I just wasn't enough."

"Your Logan is a fucking idiot," he growled, finally looking at you. "You're here in this shithole because of him and you're ready to sacrifice yourself for someone you don't even know. He was the one who wasn't good enough. I guess I'm more like him than I would want to be."

You took a chance and reached out to grab Logan's hand. You were both grieving different people and you knew you weren't his wife, but you wanted to offer him comfort all the same. You also couldn't deny that the feeling of Logan's hand in yours felt like a balm for the pain you had been carrying around since falling into the Void.

His hand tightened around yours and you saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"You're enough, Logan," you assured him. "And I believe in you," you confessed. "You don't have to go tomorrow, but I'm going to be there. And if this is the last moment I ever get with you, then there's one thing I want to do."

Logan furrowed his brow in confusion before his expression smoothed out into surprise. You had leaned forward, just barely letting your lips brush his, waiting for him to either lean in or push you away.

You waited for a beat longer, sure you were making an idiot of yourself, before you felt Logan's hand at your hip. He pulled you closer, practically into his lap, as he returned the kiss. It was passionate and tender and in turns aggressive and searching. His tongue was twined around yours and his teeth were nipping at your lips and your head was beginning to spin from the rush. Logan let out a whimper and his hand clutched your hip tighter, and you knew you were going to have a bruise there by the next morning, but you didn’t mind that there would be a reminder of this moment.

You reluctantly pulled away, meeting his eyes and noticing how Logan looked like he was ready to drag you back into another kiss.

"Thank you," you whispered, reaching up a hand to brush your thumb over his bottom lip. You let it drag down briefly and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to it. Your Logan had been rough and demanding and uncaring, but the love and want this Logan had poured into the kiss had shown you what it would have been like for the love of your life to love you back. Maybe, with that memory, your death the next day would be a little sweeter.

"Y/N," Logan started, but didn't continue.

You offered him a sad smile and started to stand. "I should try to sleep. I've got a big day tomorrow."

You moved to leave, but Logan reached out and grabbed your hand. He reeled you back towards him, causing you to drop down into his lap, but he caught you by the hips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and trailed his hand up your back before it was resting against the back of your neck. He pulled you down into another kiss, this one just as intense, but less frenzied. Logan kept you in place with just the slightest pressure of his hand on your neck and you let him pour everything he had into it.

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and speechless, reluctant to leave now that you had another taste of him.

"I'll see you in the morning," Logan promised, finally releasing you from his hold.

It took you while to shake off your daze, but then you realized what he was telling you.

You felt a smile tug at your lips before you got off his lap.

"See you in the morning," you agreed before leaving Logan in search of your bed.

The drive in the Honda Odyssey was cramped, but Wade insisted if it could house an all-night brawl between a Deadpool and a Wolverine, then it would hold the rest of you just fine all the way to Cassandra's lair. And then he started spouting off something about safety features and cup holders and you started to wonder if following his plan had been the dumbest thing you had ever done.

You found yourself sneaking glances at Logan at the rear of the car. He was watching you the whole time and every time your eyes met, a little spark of heat shot through you. Maybe he wasn't your Logan, but he had helped you begin to heal all the same. And now you were starting to fall for an entirely different Logan who was likely leaving the Void while you stayed behind and died to get him out.

Life had never been fair to you, but you hated that it was downright cruel to you as well.

By the time you were arriving at Cassandra’s, you were starting to wonder if there had ever been a happy ending for you in store or if it was just supposed to be one tragedy after another.

You lined up with the others as you faced down Cassandra's henchmen. You could see Azazel popping in and out of view and Psylocke trailing through the crowd. Juggernaut was staring down the group while Toad perched high above, a smirk on his face. There were dozens of them and you had no idea how you were going to pull it off, but even if you did die, at least it was to save someone's universe, even if it wasn't your own.

"You know how long I've been waiting for this? Ooohuee, I'm about to make a name for myself here," Remy boasted, eagerly bouncing on his feet while he began to charge a card.

"I don't think any of you walk away from this," Logan pointed out, sending a quick glance your way.

"You just make sure they know what happened here today," Remy continued, not seeming to care that he was staring death right in the face.

"We'll watch your six," Blade told Logan and Wade. "You get up there and we'll get you that helmet."

Before he could follow Wade, Logan turned to you and pulled you close. He pressed a kiss to your lips, one full of longing and grief. "I don't want to leave you," he murmured into the kiss.

You pulled back to meet his eyes, ignoring the fact that you felt like you were losing him all over again. "What you're fighting for is more important," you told him. "Maybe we'll meet again in another universe."

"Maybe," he agreed before kissing you again.

This one was brief, but it left you wanting more.

You watched Logan follow Wade before you were caught up in the fight between your friends and Cassandra's lackies.

The fight was terrifying, because the stakes were so high. You flickered in and out of visibility as needed and used your forcefields to protect your friends or attack your enemies. You used a forcefield to gather rocks and then propelled it into someone just to turn invisible to avoid someone's knife.

You were exhausted as the battle waged on and you knew that circumstances were beginning to look dire for you and your friends. Most of you were hurt and bleeding, and the fight was beginning to drain out of you.

You got distracted by Laura taking Juggernaut out and managing to get his helmet up to where Logan and Wade were no doubt dealing with Cassandra despite Psylocke intervening. You moved towards them, but you felt a searing pain in your side and you looked down to see the end of Azazel’s tail sticking through your flesh.

He jerked you back towards him and a blade sliced through his tail, freeing you. You were quick to form a forcefield around Azazel before he could escape and you began to press in on the sides, shrinking it down so he had nowhere to go. You could see him trying to teleport out, but it wasn’t working, and a look of panic flashed across his face.

You kept pressing in until his skin started to split and blood began to pour. All at once, you swept the sides in, watching as Azazel was crushed. You let the forcefield go and watched as his remains fell to the ground with a splat.

“You squashed him like a bug,” Eric observed with a nod of his head, cleaning Azazel’s blood off his blade. “Impressive.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at Blade, glancing down at the gash in your side.

“Keep your head,” he warned you just as someone rushed at you. You went invisible and stepped to the side, letting them impale themselves on Eric’s sword.

The battle took twists and turns, but after getting stabbed in the shoulder and nearly losing consciousness when someone hit you on the back of the head, you realized that the bodies were starting to drop, but your friends were still standing.

You figured your victory would be short-lived when the skies began to darken and Alioth showed on the horizon.

“He’s looking for a meal,” Elektra grunted, avoiding a hit to the side before using one of her twin sais to bring someone to their knees. She finished them off with a strike to their neck before she turned to look at the rest of you. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

You were distracted by a portal opening up in the air above you and you looked up in time to see Logan and Wade jumping through it.

Someone grabbed your arm and you instinctively moved to hit them, but you realized it was Elektra.

"Come on!" She yelled over the roar of Alioth and pulled you to cover inside Cassandra's lair.

"That was a close one," Remy said as he helped Blade into the makeshift shelter.

"But they got away," Laura pointed out with a small, satisfied smile.

"And we got to kill the fuckers that've been making our lives hell," Remy added with a grin. "Any of you see that one trick I pulled? I got the cards charged up and then guy went boom."

He looked so pleased with himself that you couldn’t stop the helpless little laugh you let out. The past few days had felt absurd and surreal, and you couldn’t even tell if it was all some fever dream. Maybe Remy had spiked his liquor to keep unsuspecting people out of it and you were currently back in the hideout, riding out one terrifying trip.

But when you twisted to the side, you felt like your side was splitting open all over again and you let out a gasp. Elektra knelt at your side, studying your wound with a frown.

"So, what happens now? Are we just stuck here until we know it's clear? We go back to our hideout and wait forever? Half of us need some kind of medical attention,” she pointed out, searching around her until she found a discarded jacket. She pressed it against your side and you let out a hiss of pain.

"Well, we didn't die, so at least there’s that," you offered with a shrug of your shoulders. "I figure we've earned some retirement. Even if we're still stuck here," you allowed with a wince as you pressed a hand to your shoulder. The wound was deep and still bleeding, but you figured you had suffered worse before. You were going to need stitches and painkillers and some more of Remy’s liquor, but at least you were still breathing.

You weren't sure how long you waited for the storm to pass, but by the time you got back outside, it was already dark. Most of the bodies were gone, consumed by Alioth, and you leaned into Elektra’s side as she helped you navigate the various body parts left behind.

"Think the car will make it back?" Remy wondered, surveying the Odyssey with its crushed sides and flat tires. It was practically drenched in blood and viscera, nearly indistinguishable as a vehicle.

"Why don't you start it up and see?" Eric prompted, looking at Gambit like he thought he was a special kind of stupid. “Maybe we can ride one of your little cards back to the hideout. How far can you throw them?”

"That won't be necessary," a voice interrupted, startling you.

A portal had opened up to your left and a woman had walked through it. She had soldiers behind her who were wearing uniforms with a TVA logo stamped on the right arm.

"Wade Wilson struck a deal for all of you," the woman continued, surveying the group. "It's time for all of you to go home."

“Home?” Remy repeated with a skeptical look at the rest of you. “What if we don’t have a home?”

“Then wherever you’d like to be,” she amended. “With conditions, of course.”

It turned out that Wade and Logan not only saved Wade's universe, but every universe. Cassandra had wanted nothing to exist except for the Void where she reigned and both of them had managed to stop her.

You never considered that your fight with Cassandra’s minions wound end with anything except for your death. You certainly never thought you would have the option to leave the Void.

You definitely didn't want to return home, so you asked if you could stay in Wade's universe. Logan and Laura had opted to stay as well and since your variant had never been born in Wade’s universe, you were welcome to stay. It felt like you were getting the opportunity to carve out the kind of life you wanted all along. One where you knew you would be welcome and wanted without fearing that you would be abandoned for someone else.

Now, you were sitting around a table with Wade's family and the beginnings of a new one for you. Laura was sitting to your left and Logan to your right and you couldn't help but feel like this was where you had belonged all along.

Logan had admitted that he wasn't allowed to try to save the people in his universe, but he wanted to be whatever you needed or wanted him to be in your new one. You knew that was a daunting order for someone like Logan, so you settled for telling him that you wanted to start at the beginning.

You wanted to get to know this Logan, because even though you already loved him, you knew that you wanted a clean slate. One where you weren’t comparing him to your universe’s Logan and one where you gave him every opportunity to show you that he was better. You also didn’t want him to just see the ghost of his wife in you, so you wanted him to get to know you.

You soaked up the love and laughter that flowed through the room and met Logan's gaze. You weren't even surprised to see that he was already watching you. You reached out to grab his hand, delighting in the way he immediately welcomed your touch.

You no longer felt forgotten and hopeless. Everything you had yearned for, fought for, in your old life had quite literally dropped right into your new one and you couldn't have been more grateful for another shot at happiness.

From the way Logan smiled at you and brought your hand up to kiss the back of it, you knew he was just as appreciative at the opportunity to turn his life back around.

"Thank you," you whispered to him, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

"Nothing to thank me for," he answered before dropping another kiss on the crowd of your head.

You wanted to argue with him and tell him that he had saved you, but you figured you would tell him later. For now, you were going to enjoy the feeling of belonging you felt and look forward to the fact that there would be a later with Logan.

Edited To Add: I am writing a sequel! It's going to involve Cable (even though he didn't test well) and Logan getting payback on reader's original Wolverine on her behalf and a whole bunch of other fun surprises!! If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

The sequel is HERE for anyone interested!

This is now a whole series! Main post for the series is HERE.

[avis-writeshq]

summary: "drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain."/"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain." The first time you meet Spencer Reid, you swore that you could feel the sparks fly. You figured that it would be unreasonable to ever consider him to be anything more than a friend, and in a moment of selflessness you tell yourself that you are perfectly fine in that position. As time goes on, the line between romantic and platonic love begins to blur indefinitely. But it would be ridiculous to think that the resident genius would feel anything for you... right?

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, happy ending warnings: rated 16+ for canonical criminal minds trauma, drugs/relapsing, torture, therapy, panic attacks/night terrors, guns, death, ‼️always read each fic's individual warnings for triggers‼️ taglist [CLOSED]: here playlist: here status: complete

main masterlist || ao3

bonus! 00 — l.d.s.k

in other words, the first time spencer calls you 'angel'. // wc: 2.2k

part of my 2023-2024 milestone event! you can find it here!

01 — better than revenge

“she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.” 

you thought you were past the immature arguments now that you're an adult. you thought you left those in high school, or even college. maybe you thought you did. apparently, spencer thought otherwise. // wc: 10.4k

02 — haunted

“something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.”

it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be a normal open-shut case. but people are unpredictable and you're left picking up the pieces as you work yourself to the grave. // wc: 10.1k

03 — labyrinth

“uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?”

everything hurts. it's understandable, after everything he's went through. spencer wishes that he could erase every one of his scars. he wishes he could stop chasing the highs and embrace the lows. but at least he has you. // wc: 3.8k

04 — you are in love

“you can hear it in the silence.”/”you can hear it on the way home.”/”you can see it with the lights out.”

spencer didn't think that something like this could happen. no, rather, he wanted to deny the fact that something like this could happen. but all he can think about is you. in other words; the four times spencer wants to kiss you, and the one time he wishes he did. // wc: 3.4k

05 — enchanted

“please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”

the line drawn in the sand that was once supposed to be an invisible boundary to never cross is washed away by the sand. these are the kind of lines where you could never go back to should you cross them; and yet here you are, so scared to see the ending as the two of you pretend that this is nothing. // wc: 4.9k

06 — untouchable

“come on, come on, say that we’ll be together”/“i’m caught up in you.”

so close and yet so far. maybe in some twisted way, you are each other's romeo and juliet, doomed from the beginning. or maybe you are each other's hamlet and ophelia, the tragedy of a love that never really was. // wc: 4.3k

07 — wildest dreams

“he’s so tall, and handsome as hell”/”his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.”

never in your wildest dreams did you think that you would be privileged enough to experience something so good. spencer reminds you that these things are reality. // wc: 3.3k

reblogs are always appreciated!

taglist [CLOSED]: here

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

[CHAPTER TWO]

CW: Marijuanna use

“Chris, I’m not so sure about this,” I mumble, crossing my arms as I follow my cousin down the forest trail. “Things are just going to get super awkward.”

“Then just… don’t talk to him. Can’t be that hard, right?” Chris responds. I can tell that he knows as well as I do that Josh himself would do whatever it takes to get under my skin in any given circumstance.

“It’s his house,” I retort.

“It’s Hannah’s get together,” he replies. “She knows how you guys are, hopefully she’ll get him off your ass.” I say nothing. "Just..." Chris stops walking and turns around to look me in the eyes.

"What?"

"Just please try to get along?" He asks. His expression is serious and pleading. I sigh, heavily. Why wasn't he on my side? Why can't Josh try to get along with me?

"Sure, Chris," I relent. "I'll... do my best." Chris smiles at me appreciatively and continues down the trail. I hate this. I don't want to be walked over, I don't want to be the doormat or the verbal punching bag for whoever was in a bad mood that day - especially Josh's. But I didn't want to ruin everybody else's good mood, either. If no one else sees a problem, why am I so upset?

The autumn trees towered above us, providing shelter from the warm sun – although some warmth would be appreciated as the temperatures dropped lower by the day. I’d only been to the Washington house before for some rager of a graduation party, when the sky was dark. With the sun, however, the gorgeous forest could make me almost forget I was on a death march to the lair of my enemy.

Chris and I finally make it to the porch of the Washington home. He turns to me, as if to say “after you!” I hold my arms tighter to my body and shake my head. So, after a roll of the eyes, he knocks. There’s a muffled call from the other side to let us know someone was coming to let us in. Just my luck, Joshua opens the door.

“What are you, Chris, a vampire? Gotta be invited in, now?” Josh jokes, a wide grin on his face.

“I’m with Jordan,” Chris says, as if clarifying. Josh looks over Chris’s shoulder to see me. I swear I see his smile widen, and I can only think that can’t be good.

“You can leave her outside, Chris, no worries,” Josh snickers as he steps aside, holding open the door for Chris and I. As I walk past, I nod and offer a gentle thanks. “You’re welcome, pet.” Immediately, Chris sighs as if he knows whats coming. He knows I want to say something – but the guilt I feel in my chest for ruining every good mood keeps me from speaking. Instead, I just give him a hurt, frustrated look.

Josh seems surprised. Next to the shock, though, is a flash of an emotion I can’t quite catch. It’s Josh, however. So I didn’t much care. I walked into the living room, where everyone else was waiting. Hannah stands up and hurries to greet me, walking straight past Chris to pull me into a hug.

“Ahh, thank you for coming! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!” I pause. “For inviting me, I mean. You have a lovely home.” I give an awkward bow, staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re so fucking weird, what are you doing?! I scold myself. I know they’re thinking it, too, but I once again push the negative thoughts away.

“We’re gonna head down to the basement,” Hannah says, smiling as if I hadn’t just made the most awkward air possible. “Do you smoke?” I’m taken by surprise. Chris, Josh, and everyone else walks past Hannah and I and towards the stairs.

“Smoke?” I repeat. “What, like, weed?” Hannah giggles.

“Yes, like, weed,” she says.

“Yeah, sometimes. Not often, though.”

“Great! We have weed.”

“Sounds… good.” A part of me is relieved. Maybe with something in my system I’ll be able to relax for once. Especially around Josh. I feel a burning anger in my chest at just the thought of him. Hannah takes my hand firmly and begins to lead me to the stairs the others had gone down. I make a mental note that the twins both really seem to like holding hands. Not that I minded. It just wasn’t that common for someone to take your hand in theirs when showing you around their house.

We get to the basement, and it’s noticeably colder. And massive. My eyebrows raise as I look around the room. There’s a huge TV mounted on the wall, a large circular wooden table in the middle of the room on a round, purple rug. Around the table for seating were two L couches, and on the couches were Hannah’s friends. Not everyone, though.

Matt, Sam, and Jess were missing, leaving just Ashley, Mike, and his girlfriend Emily, who was casually sitting on his lap. Next to Mike and Emily, Chris unsurprisingly had sat next to Ashley, leaving the other couch to Hannah, Beth, Joshua and I. For a moment I wondered if this could be some kind of set up. Hannah quickly left my side to sit next to Beth on the furthest end of the couch. On the other side was, of course, Joshua, rolling a joint. And, of course, the only open seat was next to him.

And he knew it.

I didn’t want to be rude or, again, make things awkward. And so, I sat next to Joshua Washington. It’s here, watching him focused on something that I suddenly realize how tired he looks. The underside of his eyes were dark, as if he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days.

“Like what you see?” Josh smiles, eyebrows raised. I frown in response.

“No.” I immediately regret this as the vibe is instantly brought down by my rude answer. “I mean, like, not NO, but I just mean I didn’t -”

“Calm down, girl, I’m just… just JOSHING ya,” he laughs. I roll my eyes but I can’t help the small smile that hints at my face. Josh’s head snapped to his sisters, mouth wide open in a smile as if he can’t believe I was capable of anything but a straight face or a frown. “I made her smile!” He whisper yells. I hate it, but it makes it harder to keep the smile down. Somehow I manage not to fully grin.

“Alright, you first, Mike,” Josh says, handing the dark haired boy the joint. Mike takes a long drag and shotguns it to Emily. My lip twitches, threatening to make an obvious sneer at the strong PDA.

“Ohh, spicey,” I hear Josh laugh. “Chris and Ashley next.” Ashley and Chris immediately chime in in a chorus of no’s. Chris takes the joint and takes a hit. I notice his hands are shaking. The idea of his lips so close to Ashley’s is more than it appears he can take. I can hear Josh continue to laugh to himself as Ashley is handed the joint.

“So, what’s the plan for the winter this year?” Beth says, her face shining with excitement. “Are you guys coming?” Mike and Emily look away from each other, their teasing and giggling cut short by Beth’s question. Despite the unhappy look on Emily’s face, she answers. Ashley passes the joint to Hannah.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon,” she smiles, but it looks forced and sarcastic, even. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as to why she’s here – and why does she keep getting invited? Mike nods next to her, a smile on his handsome face. He seems much more laid back and agreeable than his girlfriend, who I notice is looking me up and down. “Do you have a problem or something, weird girl?” I’m taken aback at the sudden confrontation and I sit up straight. My heart begins to pound. Hannah passes the joint to Beth.

“No, I don’t. I was just -”

“Staring at me like some sort of creep? Yeah, I saw. I saw you look at my man, too. What’s up? You want him?”

“What? No, I -”

“You can’t have him. So eyes off, bitch.” I clench my jaw, hard. I swear I almost cracked a tooth.

"Emily -" Mike starts, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and embarrassment. He shoots me a worried, apologetic look.

"No, it's fine," I say, staring Emily directly in the eyes. As I expected, she takes it as a challenge. "I looked at you, yeah. When you're sucking face like that it's hard to ignore." Beth passes the joint to Josh.

"Well, keep looking." Emily hisses, throwing her arms around Mike and holding his neck tightly. I wonder if he can breathe. I clear my throat and look up at Chris. His eyes are already a bit droopier, but through his mild high he still looks back at me with a sort of pity and embarrassment that I just can't stand.

Josh hands me the joint.

"Go on, take a big drag, babydoll," Josh grins at me. I frown at him. He did nothing wrong, but I still can't help but feel like he's making fun of me in some way. Still, I ignore the nickname. I know he's just trying to get under my skin, yet I can feel the tips of my ears heat up in embarrassment. I side-eye Josh as I put the blunt in between my lips. He's staring at me as if he's studying me, his ever present smile missing from his face, eyes half closed. He couldn't be high that quickly, could he?

As he suggested, I take a long drag, adding a bit of 'coolness' by French inhaling.

"Oh, so cool, I've never seen that before," Emily says sarcastically. I ignore her as I pass the weed back to Mike. Mike doesn't look at me as he takes it, instead glaring at Emily. I can tell he's embarrassed by her cruelty.

I don't hate Mike. He's never been my favorite person in the world, but he's never done anything to me or that I've seen that could make me dislike him other than his habit of... Well, women. However, I could tell that despite her attitude Mike saw something beneath that and really did care about Emily. He was handsome, I could never deny that. Thick, dark hair and brown eyes, a chiseled jaw and a decent body to match. The more time I spent near him the more I understood that he really wasn't a stereotypical 'high school hot guy.' Mr. Class President. He locks eyes with me and gives me an awkward smile. I can sense an apology in his expression. I want to return a look, but I quicky shift my gaze before Emily catches on to the telepathic conversation.

As we continue the rotation, the conversation of their winter plans continues on. I listen, but I don't contribute due to my lack of invitation. I look around me, and everyone looks happy and content. I can feel my own high start to creep up under my eyes, and I can't help but smile to myself. It was pleasant. Even though these were people I didn't yet consider friends outside of Chris, Beth, and Hannah, I didn't feel completely out of place in this moment. I felt content for the first time in a long time.

An hour passes.

"Hey, I'm sorry, where's your bathroom?" I ask. I start to think I might be greening out and I needed a moment to myself. Josh turns to me, a dopey grin on his face.

"The bathroom?" He asks. I smile back at him.

"Yeah, the bathroom."

"What for?" Josh scoots closer as if to hear me better.

"I'm getting anxious, I think," I admit. This surprises me. Why would I tell Josh I'm anxious? So he can make it worse? Instead of poking fun at me and telling everyone to look, his smile fades slightly and his eyebrows twitch in what looks like concern.

"Anxious? Are you ok?"

"I'm greening," I say, widening my eyes for a moment to exaggerate. Josh takes my hand.

"I will escort you to the bathroom," he says, standing up. "It's kind of a maze, this house." He's smiling at me. Even under the influence I can't help but search for any sign of malicious intent. My anxiety spikes further. What does he have planned?

"Can't you just tell me how to get there?" I ask, though I stand with him anyway.

"Yeah, but you'll get lost."

"Joshua Washington," Hannah starts, her tone that of a parent warning their child. "You better not upset her or I swear..."

"Yeah!" Beth chimes in.

"Awe, guys, give me a chance! Give me a chance..." He trails off, beginning to lead me to the stairs, still holding my hand. When we're further away, I inform him that my hand was still in his. "Oh, can I just keep holding it? Your hands are just so soft." I say nothing. How do I respond to that? Is this some sort of joke?

"Your hands are calloused," is all I can muster.

"Oh, man, is that bad?"

"No."

We stand in front of a door. I assume it's the bathroom but I can't think clearly. Josh just stares at me. I ask him if this is the bathroom. He says nothing. He's expressionless.

"You seem anxious around me, do I make you anxious?"

"Is this the bathroom?" I ask. Silence. My heart is pounding. What is he trying to do? Embarrass me? He's staring into my very being. Of course he makes me anxious.

"...yeah." He steps aside, opening the door for me. He suddenly seems sober. I feel a pang of guilt as I walk past him and into the bathroom. Why? I stare at myself in the mirror, studying my own features. I'm not wearing any makeup, but I kind of wish I did. Maybe some mascara, or something. My cheeks and the tips of my ears were a light red, my flustered state obvious. As I observe myself, my mind wanders to the people out there, in the basement. Chris seems to really enjoy their company. Outside of Emily and Josh, I do too. Yet I still can't help but question it all.

Did they see me as a charity case? They never invited me to anything before, no texts after I'd moved. The friendship or my classmates was utterly and completely out of nowhere. Why did Beth and Hannah invite me? My pupils are dilated. I look tired. My eyes water. Will I be invited again? I think I hope so.

A knock on the door makes me jump.

"Are you ok in there?"

"It's been like, 10 seconds."

"It's been like, 10 minutes, J." Had it really been that long? There was no way. J? I find myself wondering where such a familiar sounding nickname came from.

"Are you timing me?" I ask.

"No," he answers. "I'm not." A beat of silence.

"Have you been waiting for me this whole time?" Josh doesn't answer. After a moment of silence, he knocks again.

"Are you ok in there?" I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration, opening the door and stepping out. Well, trying to. Josh is standing directly in the opening and I bump into him, hard, but he doesn't stumble. He grabs both my shoulders as if to hold me still, keep me from falling over. I only notice now he's taller than me by a few inches, my eyes in line with his mouth.

"Yeah," I say, frozen in place. He's touching me

Why is he touching me? Why? His grip loosens, noticing how tense I am.

"You were just in there for a while, and," he paused, taking a step back. "I dunno, sometimes people cry at get togethers or whatever." I chew on my lower lip. I had almost cried. "It would've been a major bummer, or whatever."

"Do I look like I was crying?"

"Yes." I'm taken aback, lifting my hands to my face. Sure enough, my cheeks are wet with what can only be tears.

"How would - how would you know?" Now it's his turn to be embarrassed. He takes another step back from me as he looks at the wall to my left, shifting his weight. Is he nervous?

"...I've seen you cry a lot."

"Oh. Right." The silence is deafening. "Let's go back downstairs." I wipe my face dry with the sleeves of my sweater. "Thanks for showing me where the bathroom is." I try to change the subject. He says nothing, only offering me a nod this time. He doesn't take my hand.

"Next time you're on your own." He huffs, turning on his heel and walking quickly away from me and back towards the basement. I'm taken aback by the sudden shift in attitude but I bite my tongue. I promised Chris I would do my best to get along with Josh, and I intended to keep it. But damn was it difficult.

Back into the basement, Josh is already sat and smoking. I furrow my eyebrows. Did he have to be high to tolerate my presence? I shake the thought from my head and take my place next to him. He shifts, scooting slightly further away from me. My chest fills with a deep, rumbling anger, and I grip the sides of the couch tightly. I didn't do anything to him.

"You'll be coming, right, Jordan?" Beth asks. I snap out of my thoughts and lean forward to see her over her brother, who stiffens.

"What? Coming to what?" I ask. Beth smiles and rolls her eyes playfully. I can hear Emily snicker and Mike sigh at her in mild frustration, saying her name as if in a warning - again. Chris is watching Josh, his eyes seemingly scanning for something.

"Our parents own a lodge up on a mountain," Hannah answers for Beth. "In the winter we all spend a few days up there. No parents, if you were wondering."

"And you're invited," Beth butts in. "It would be rude of us to talk about it so much in front of you if we didn't plan on taking you along." I'm passed the blunt, but I don't hit it this time. I'm high enough.

"Uh, well, I don't know," I start, chewing at my bottom lip. I glance at Josh, who is staring at me intensely. The sudden eye contact kind of freaks me out. I look at Chris, who shrugs at me, his expression wide eyed and clueless. Emily rolls her eyes, and the twins look at me expectantly. "I... I don't think I would be any fun." My heart pounds. I don't want to spend time trapped on a mountain for days near Joshua Washington. I would expect to wake up one morning with my mattress somehow moved outside as a "joke."

"What? Why?"

"I'm just not a partier." I gulp. I look again at Chris. I can't tell what he's thinking. Does he want me to come? Does he think I'll ruin it for him? For everyone?

I think I would.

"Jordan, please. Just think about it?" Hannah pleads, standing up from her place on the couch to crouch down in front of me like a parent talking to their child. I can feel Josh's gaze boring into me, telling me I'd better not dare to say yes. My eyes snap to his, my head unmoving.

If you come to the lodge I will make your life hell.

The anger in me bubbles and burns to the point of pain, my jaw clenching. I can't help but think about how many times I'd missed out on something because Joshua Washington would be there or even nearby. How many tears have I shed over this asshole? And now what? Now he thought he could control me?

"Jordan?" Hannah repeats. I know she can see the staring battle between Josh and I.

"You know what, Hannah?" I start. Something in Josh's expression changes. The warning is still there, but now there's something else. Shock? Admiration?

"Yeah?" Hannah starts to smile, though there's a hint of nervousness to it. I wonder if regret ever creeped into her head.

Fear?

I don't know. But I know I'm done with agreeing to be put down and pushed around for the comfort of others. If Joshua Washington wanted a battle he sure as hell would get one, though this time there was no winning for him. I'm not laying down anymore. I turn my head so I'm fully facing him. His expression shifts further towards surprise and realization that something was different.

"I'll be there."

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

Whoo!! Sorry for the wait! Thank you for your patience.

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby

[alwaysshallow]

@bunnyreaper's secret santa thing; I had the pleasure to write for @cooliofango ❤️ I hope you're gonna have the best time reading this, love.

AO3 VERSION

Simon isn't there—that's the first thing you notice, when you wake up.

You think it's odd; he always sticks around, especially in the morning. Either he is reading something in bed, a book or an article, or tries to wake you up, softly, kissing your arm, if it was past nine in the morning.

Right now, even his side of the bed is cold, so he had to leave at least an hour ago, maybe more. You get up with a slight frown on your face, multiple questions in the back of your mind, what possibly could bring Simon out of bed. There's many thoughts, and they aren't really positive; usually if he had to leave, it was something military related. A missile missing, someone to rescue, intel to get or secure.

Being with Riley made you realize how fucked up the world is and how many times it needs to be saved. This time though, in theory, he has vacations that he asked for. Holidays with his girlfriend, he said, which caused you to grin like crazy one, since you loved this term. His girlfriend, his significant other with whom he decided to spend time with, even if he doesn't like holidays.

It's main reason why you aren't really doing anything festive this year; out of respect to him. Sure, you spend more time together, you plan to watch movies tonight, make some food, but nothing really related to Christmas. No lights, no tree, nothing what could possibly trigger his memory with the holidays and make the time worse than it already was.

But now, your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, and your plans are under a big question mark. You don't even know where he is, if he is here, in your shared house that you've decided to buy a few months ago.

"Baby?" you call out, looking around. There's a few boxes laying on the ground, door is wide-open; if you wouldn't know any better, you'd assume that somebody broke in. Knowing your boyfriend though, how he secured the house... hell, it takes only one wrong move and alarm goes off, as Simon said once, shortly after he installed it.

So, door wide-open, bringing in the cold, clear indicator that he actually is here somewhere. And, sooner than later, you'll see him.

You prefer sooner than later, though, so you go through the door, just to see your man with a tree—Christmas tree, to be precise—with shocked expression on his face. Then, he puts it down, just to sneak his arms around you, tight. Just like he loved to do, practically from the start of your relationship.

For a military man, he is very touch starved, and you try every time to give him the love he deserves.

"You didn't wake me," you murmur into his broad chest, at which he chuckles. You look up at him, seeing his brown eyes sparkling.

"Sorry, love. Had to take care of some things," he says, his hand caressing your back delicately. "But 'm here now. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"Oh, no, no," you laugh, shaking your head. "I want to know why there's a Christmas tree here. And those boxes? Seems like decorations to me, Mr. Riley."

He acts like you caught him red handed on something; Simon looks away and sighs, just to look at you a few seconds later with a semi-guilty look on his face. You have to hold back a laugh; he seems so stressed about something simple, it's adorable.

"I don't like Christmas," he starts, playing with your hair. "But I know you like 'em. Your eyes sparkle every time you see this shit, lights, trees, everythin' and—"

"—Simon, we don't have to—"

"—let me finish." He looks at you, a bit sternly, so you nod. You have to listen to him, especially if he asks you to. "And I just can't do this to you. Take it away from you. 'm a grown man, it's time to change some things. 'specially those hurtful ones."

You gnaw at your bottom lip, silent for a few seconds, as you try to collect your thoughts about this situation. It's hard not to cry right now, given how he overcomes his own weaknesses, just for you. Just for the both of you, so your future will be brighter.

"You are," you cup his cheeks into your hands, "the best man I've ever, ever met. I'm so lucky to have you, you know? A man that's willing to spend Christmas with me the traditional way, to

“You can't say this shit to me,” he warns, his voice almost a whisper. You raise your eyebrow, but you don't stop kissing his jaw, even when he sighs.

"Because that's so bad? Or because that's the truth and you'll blush any second?" you ask teasingly, at which he rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. To see his smile, to see how happy you can make him... you cherish every moment like that, knowing his history. Knowing how hard it was, how hard it still is because demons doesn't go easily.

Yet, you see the progress. His battle, to be more open, to allow himself to be more vulnerable at least around you.

“You’re gonna make me even more addicted," he explains to you, kissing your face a few times. He bangs with his nose against your eyeglasses, but he doesn't really seem to mind. "And I’m already weak. It's like... you're something that I’m not immune to. Everyone will see that later, on that Christmas party.”

He doesn’t say he loves you. That would be crazy, he thinks; every time he told someone he loves them, they died. He doesn't want it to happen with you, not when he didn't think of an idea how to possibly save you, keep you safe and locked, close to his heart.

But he can’t deny that you have him wrapped around your finger and you always will. Task Force 141 knows about you, they even invited you two to the Christmas party later, but the l-word has to wait. You know that he loves you anyway; maybe he doesn't say it, but his actions shows you enough love. And, he has other words—be safe, you know I care about you.

It speaks louder than simple I love you but he knows he's gonna say it. He has to, even for your sake.

"That's good. I love you being addicted." You grin, hugging him even tighter. "Because I'm addicted to you as well. To my big, wonderful boyfriend. Now... about those Christmas decorations."

You wouldn't think that decorating your shared house with Simon would be so fun and chaotic in the same time. Your boyfriend does the lights—since his height abilities are just insane—and you are basically running around with snowmen, reindeers and other creatures that you somehow can associate with winter. Riley also gives you disapproval looks from time to time, telling you to dress yourself properly, as you're just on your pyjamas; it ends up in you being in his big, warm hoodie, since you don't listen.

It's like everything you dreamed for, in domestic matter.

The best is taking care of the tree, though. You two have different ideas—yours with doing it in two colors that compliment each other, red and gold for example, which would give the glamour vibe of the house. Or, Simon's idea which is complete chaos. He looks so happy with placing the ornaments, that you don't tell him about color theory, you don't suggest making it less colorful either.

You just put everything just like he is, with instinct, and when he asks about your opinion, you can't help but smile widely and praise him for being creative. His enjoyment gives you the time of your life, honestly.

"You do it like it's in your blood," you say, laughing happily when he gives your cheek a big, wet kiss. His arms locks around you automatically, his lips dropping a bit lower.

"'st because of you. My girl," he purrs. "Maybe we should take a break and eat somethin', eh? Something Christmas-y."

"Christmas-y?" you repeat, observing with a small smile stomach how he drags you over to the couch, towering over you. He has absolutely no problem with crashing you with his weight, which feels so good considering how warm he is. "What would you like?"

"Anything my woman wants, I'll eat. My civilian woman."

You can't help the sensation of your heart fluttering at this view; at Simon kissing your knuckles, at Simon being so affectionate. You are sure that you haven't seen him like this before, not this open with his feelings.

"Yours. That civilian woman, for a superordinary man," you say, quietly.

“My civilian woman.” Simon’s eyes shine as he repeats your words, a light smirk forming as he gazes down at you. You really are gorgeous, so beautiful as you're there in his arms. "'m not superordinary, but I guess I'll take it."

He reaches over to remote, turning off the light in the room. Now, all that’s illuminated is the moonlight and sparkling, multicolor Christmas lights, casting a pale ray of light in the darkness.

Before he loses himself in your eyes, he leans over and presses his mouth to yours. It’s a slow, quiet, yet passionate kiss—one that sparks a fire in both your souls.

"That sounds very dorky, if you think about it," you chuckle quietly, still keeping his gaze. His brown eyes are fixed on yours, glimmering so gently, you can't help but be lost in them. God, it's even better when he turned off the light. You don't see each other properly, but the dark figures are adding everything to your imagination, when you continue this slow kiss.

You can only hear your lips smacking against each other.

“You’re perfect to me,” he says, his voice husky as he gazes down at you. You make his heart flutter. You always do, but lately, those butterflies have turned into something else, as he told you a dew days ago. "The most perfect woman in the world. Even if it's cheesy, as you say."

"You're such a cheesy man, Riley," you whisper, as you smile at his sudden comment how you are perfect to him. Knowing that he's not the best with words, and still says something like this, was just the most important thing for you. "But I like that in you. Just as much as your soft spot for those romcoms we watch. Even if you call them sappy and cringe," you say, closing your eyes.

"They are sappy and cringe. But it's our type of sappy and cringe," he murmurs into your skin, burying his face in your neck. Right in this moment, he doesn't seem to care about anything else.

And you don't care about anything else either, when you have him right by your side. Safe and secure, far from deployment, far from all those dangerous things probably just waiting for him out there.

"I love you," he whispers.

And you know you have your gift.

[steviewashere]

I love you guys, so for WIP Wednesday, you get the first two and a half pages of my unnamed, but currently named "Steve Makes Eddie Apologize to Lucas for Not Postponing Hellfire for the Championship Game" fic. Uh, I don't think there's any warnings, but here we go.

You can read it here on Tumblr

Or you can read it here on AO3

——— “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he's been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.

“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.

“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”

Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”

For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.

“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.

There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.

“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.

Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.

“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.

Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.

Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.

After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.

“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.

———

[isthemedia]

Poolerverine-Yoink! (1/2)

Since Ao3 is down for maintenance right now.

Here it is! Part One of two. Ao3 link to come when it's up and running again!

@manicpixxiedreambitch

@leo-i-am

@nickisgirl

(Since ya'll left comments figured to tag ya)

=====================================

Logan thought he had an idea of how Wade’s moods went. Sure they were sporadic and nearly unpredictable. The keyword being ‘nearly’. There were little tells Wade had, probably just natural instincts and habits his body did. Despite the constant dying and regenerating Wade’s body did-a story Logan STILL isn’t sure he was ready for-it seemed that there were just some things that always came back to Wade. 

The way his hands would twitch when he’d be on a short fuse, ready to fight or maim or pull out god knows what kind of weapon from who knows where. Luckily Logan knew how to take a hit. He also knew just WHERE to hit to get Wade somewhat under control. 

How Wade’s leg would bounce from being cooped up for too long-sometimes five minutes would be too long. Logan needed to yank him by the hood of his sweater as he tried to climb out of the window to the fire escape cause he needed out ASA-NOW. 

How some nights, when he’d be jolted awake from his own nightmares and warped memories to see Wade also up on the pull-out. The glow of the tv casting an eerie blue glow over him, as he’d just watch whatever was playing…without a word. At least Logan thought Wade was watching what was ever on during the first few times it happened. However, once he’d get a better look, he could see Wade…well, how did that saying go? Lights are on but nobody’s home? Something like that. Those times, well, those times were the ones he didn’t really have an idea on how to handle. 

Logan figured he learned enough of those cues and habits that nothing could really surprise him with Wade anymore. 

But it was just like the fucker to come up with something new. 

Which is where Logan was now. Staring at the lump in the middle of the pull-out’s mattress. Just what the hell was Wade doing? Sure the man could be lazy, but this was something else entirely. 

“Come on!” He gave a kick to the pull-out, jostling it somewhat. “Get up! This thing takes up enough space as is!” 

Wade refused to move. Hell, he wasn’t even saying anything. It was actually pretty damn quiet, that the familiar snikt sound seemed almost too loud. “Wade, ya know I won’t be afraid ta force yer ass out.” 

No response. 

Not even a snark.

And that was pissing Logan off the most. 

That does it! Raising his claws, ready to--

A knock came on the door. 

The sound was enough to knock some of the fury out of Logan. He couldn’t quite stop the growl that left him as he turned away from Wade, claws sheathing back, and stormed over to the door. He nearly tore it off the hinges when a second round of knocking started up. “WHAT!?” 

“Huh, you do have fangs.” 

Logan faltered some. Embarrassment was quickly quelling most of the boiling rage. “Ah--Vanessa, um…” 

Vanessa smiled sweetly. “It’s fine. I had worse greetings-and most of those came from Wade. Which, by the way, gotta call from Al,” she continued. “Mind if I step in?” 

“Huh? Ah, yeah sure,” Logan stepped aside and let her in. He noticed she had a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Figured she was out doing errands. Even though it didn’t work out between the two of them, Logan could still feel how much the two loved each other. That both would drop whatever they were doing if the other needed help. 

Vanessa made her way over to the pull out and knelt down. “How long has he been like this?” She asked. 

“Hm? All monrin’.”

“Ahhh,” she sounded like she knew exactly what was going on. Probably did, she was with him long enough. 

“He’s done this before?” 

“He has, but it’s been a while since the last time,” she set the bag down and started digging through it. “He’s not gonna move for a while when he gets like this. Well, at least when somebody can see him.” 

“Gonna fill me in on what’s goin’ on?” Logan asked as he made his way over to her. Peering over he could see the bag was filled with…quite a bit of stuff. And all of it was stuff Wade liked. Snack, drinks, shit he saw a couple of toys in there too. Looked more like something you’d bring for a sick kid.

“Hard to explain,” Vanessa said as she pulled out a small Hello Kitty plush toy. “But you know how some people just, shut down sometimes? Burnout? Crash?” 

“Yeah?” He knew that all too well. “Wait, is that what this is?”

“Kinda?” She said. “It kinda is, but kinda isn’t.” Logan huffed. These answers were getting him nowhere. “You know about his cancer, right?” 

“Y-yeah.” He kinda felt like an asshole when he decided to ask what happened to Wade. He thought all that scarring was from like a fire or a chemical spill-or maybe his mutant gene just made him look like at. It wouldn’t be out of the possibility-hell he knew Beak. He didn’t know that Wade had cancer-STILL has cancer. That his healing factor wasn’t healing that cancer, just kept replacing it. That those scars were from it. That he’s constantly dying and regenerating. 

“Well, some days that pain gets to be too much,” Vanessa continued. “Says that even the voices in his head get too grating to listen too. That everything feels like static cause he’s being watched. Like sticking your tongue to a 9 volt battery, kind of static.” 

Well now he really felt like an asshole now. Dammit. He shoulda realized something was bad when Wade stopped being so damn chatty. “So what do we do when he’s like this?” 

“Not much,” Vanessa said. “Just time, and just making sure he’s alright,” she added with a slight grin. “Watch this.” 

Logan wasn’t sure, but that grin Vanessa had reminded him of Jubilee’s when she managed to steal some snack from Hank’s hidden stash in his lab. She always managed to somehow just pull out the good without knowing. He watched as Vanessa set the plush toy on the edge of the pull-out. She slowly inched it closer to the mound on the bed. She got about three inches away, when--

Logan blinked. 

It happened so fast he wasn’t sure just what he saw. Vanessa was too busy laughing, the plush toy gone from sight. 

So he did see that right. Wade snatched it and took it under the blankets with such speed it was almost cartoonish. 

“That-is what I call the Yoink-Zone,” Vanessa explained. 

“The what?” 

“Yoink-Zone,” she grinned. “It’s hard to get Wade to come out from under the covers like this-cause again static feeling. So I had to find some way to make sure he ate something. Found this out through trial and error,” she explained as she pulled out a small pack of fruit shaped marshmallows. “It’s dumb, but it works.” 

“I guess,” Logan heaved a sigh. 

“Here, your turn,” Vanessa said as she handed him the packet of marshmallows. 

“The fuck you mean, my turn?” 

“Hey, you live with him now, so that means you gotta take care of him.” 

Logan wanted to argue with her. He didn’t need to do shit.

But that wasn’t true. Hell, if this was all it took, it was the least he could do. Wade did more for him and dealt with his nightmares. Taking a set of claws to the gut. Needing to calm him down from his fight-or-flight response. Hell there was one time he bit off two of Wade’s fingers cause he got too close to his face. And the asshole had the gall to tell him it was all alright. 

This was less destructive at least. 

Logan slid the marshmallows towards the lump of blankets, and again, lighting quick they were snatched up. “...yeah this is dumb.” 

Vanessa laughed and smiled warmly, before inching her hand towards the ‘Yoink-zone’. Instead of getting snatched violently, Logan watched as Wade reached out and took her hand. Fingers threading together, and just holding her hand gently. “Things are gonna be alright Wade,” Vanessa said softly. “I’ll stop by later on if this keeps up, but Logan should be able to take it from here then. That's alright?” She felt him squeeze her hand softly before letting go, giving a thumbs up, before disappearing underneath the pile of blankets. 

She got up, one of her knees gave a pop while doing so. “Got a couple of snacks and drinks in that bag,” she gestured. “I’ll take it back next game night.” 

“Alright, ah…thanks Vanessa,” Logan nodded as he walked with her back to the door. 

She took his arm and patted it. “It’s no problem. I know Wade can be…well, Wade…but I know you’ll help him out with this.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” he nodded. They shared their good-byes and Vanessa was on her way. Logan leaned back against the door and heaved a sigh. This was probably going to be a long week. He hoped it wasn’t going to last long, but then again Vanessa made it seem like there was no real time frame for how long this thing lasted. 

He made his way back over to the pull-out. Mary-Puppins was now beside it, whining as she stared up at the edge that seemed to be too far out of her reach. 

Alright, this could be a bit mean, but then again, Wade loved the ugly thing. So maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Logan scooped her up and set her on the bed. Watching as she sniffed and toddled closer to the pile of blankets. When she was near that space-yoink!

Mary yelped as she was pulled under. Logan heard concerned shushing and small mumbling-Wade absolutely trying to appease the dog he probably spooked like that. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing. He only proceeded to laugh even harder when one of Wade’s hands snuck out from under the blanket to flip him off. 

--

It was only the second day of this mood of Wade’s. Logan had to go out and restock on things for the merc, since the bag Vanessa brought was emptied before noon. And to be honest, Logan needed that time to be out of the apartment. 

Some thoughts were starting to rear their ugly heads again. The more he tried to push them back. Or cut them off-only to have two more replace them. Fucking hydra analogy, like the actual hydra and not the organization…though isn’t their motto something like that?

Whatever. 

He sighed as he roamed the aisles. Maybe after this he should start thinking about moving out. It’s not like he wants to-well not fully. It’s cramped, three adults and a dog all staying in a one bedroom apartment? Two over six foot men sharing a pull-out? The apartment itself definitely has seen better days-hell seen better years with the upkeep. 

Sure they could probably move-Althea included, he knows Wade wouldn’t want to leave her behind. Despite their sniping back and forth, and that godawful namesake Wade gave her, he did care about her. Shit, Logan did too. There was something about her…she wasn’t Chuck, that’s for sure. But there was just something about her. Something comforting and welcoming. She definitely filled a gap that was missing for him. 

While all moving out together sounded nice-well, alright that was the problem. It was a nice thought. A nice idea for a nice, somewhat domestic, somewhat fucked up future. 

But, if there was one thing Logan learned in his long life was this: Logan Howlett doesn’t get a nice life. 

That’s just how it was. That was why he seriously needed to think about moving out, and away from them. Because he was getting too accustomed to the idea of living with Wade. Too comfortable with the other man laying right by him. Being a constant in his day-to-day life. 

Great so much for escaping those thoughts. 

He wasn’t sure what it was with Wade, but there was something there. Something he’s been missing for years. The lines between companionship and desire were starting to blur. Fuck he’s been alone way too long to think of Wade like that. 

Then again, it isn’t just because he’s been alone for so long. Wade was different. Different then a lot of people-and he wasn’t meaning his looks or that weird quirk of him making comments to someone he couldn’t see. Wade sorta just, accepted him. The good and the bad. Wade didn’t try to change him, or make him more suitable for living with him and Althea. 

He didn’t need to be a ‘good guy’ to bring home. To Wade, Logan was fine just as is. PTSD, anger issues, alcoholism, and all. It was something Logan never even thought possible. There was always SOMETHING about him people needed to change. But not for Wade. 

So when was the other shoe gonna drop? It was gonna happen, he just knew it was. That’s why he had to be far away from Wade when it did. 

He sighed as he made his way back to the apartment, bags in hand. Well, that can be something to go back to worrying after Wade gets over this mood he’s in right now. Couldn’t last that much longer, could it? Maybe he should call Vanessa. Get an idea on how short or long this thing lasted. 

Entering the apartment, he could see the lump on the pull out hadn’t moved, but Mary was laying on the mattress just slightly out of the ‘yoink-zone’. He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed. Mary whined, and he just gave her a quick little pet before digging out a bag of chips. 

He slid it close to the pile of blankets. It was getting easier to catch it. Wade’s hand shooting out from under the pile to grab whatever there was, and back under again. Logan chuckled softly and shook his head. 

Wade was absolutely ridiculous sometimes…and he was getting used to it. 

Mary made a small sound before she settled onto his lap. Welp, looked like he was stuck there for a bit. Could be worse. He knows he shouldn’t, but to hell with it. He knows he’s gonna need to abandon ship sometime, but for now he could enjoy this for a little bit. 

He absentmindedly pet Mary, his eyes slowly trailing back over to the pile of blankets. With his other hand he slowly slid it across the mattress. He was expecting Wade to just snatch it when it was close enough-but that didn’t happen. 

Like with Vanessa, Wade reached out slowly. Placing his hand over Logan’s. Wade’s hand was cold, despite being tucked under that pile of blankets. It wasn’t bad…it actually felt kinda nice. Logan ran warm anyway. 

“Yer gonna need to let go or I’m gonna need ta stop pettin’ Mary if you need somethin’ else,” Logan said. Wade gave a soft pat to the back of his hand before giving an ‘okay’ gesture, and retreating back under the blankets. Logan laughed and looked down to Mary. “You get so damn spoiled.” 

--

Laura and Vanessa were over. Day four of Wade’s mood. Laura got a first hand experience and witnessed the ‘yoink-zone’. She actually jumped-claws shooting out and everything. 

“Just so you know, he’s not gonna shut up when he’s over this,” Vanessa warned. 

“How is that different from normal?” Logan asked. 

“You’re mean,” Vanessa teased. “I mean that he’s gonna be dumb and talk himself dry,” she explained. “He’s a bit, out of it for like a day after all this. So just keep an eye on him, alright?” 

“Been babysitting him for four days already, shouldn’t be a big deal if another gets tacked on,” Logan shrugged as he leaned back on the bed slightly. 

“You miss him talking, don’t you?” Laura smirked. 

“Dunno what yer talkin’ about,” Logan grumbled. 

“Suuuure you don’t.” 

He huffed and shifted slightly. He was about to say something else when--

“SHIT! I forgot!” Two, scar roughed hands grabbed onto his arm and pulled-HARD. He toppled back and found himself partially under the pile of blankets. It was dark, but he could mostly make out what was in front of him and well…over him. 

Wade had this almost soft, fond looking smile on his face. The same one Logan always saw him give Vanessa-but there was something just slightly different with this one. “Got too close there Peanut,” Wade’s voice was hushed. A bit raspy from not being used for a few days. 

“Yeah, figured,” Logan said softly. “Better?”

“Hmm…a bit,” Wade murmured. “Gonna talk your ear off, cause I had a lotta thoughts goin’ through my head during all this.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” the smile stayed on Wade’s face as he leaned down. 

It was obvious what was going to happen, but still Logan felt his breath hitch. The position was awkward, but not the worst kiss he had. Wade’s lips were chapped and scarred-but felt so right against his. He almost wanted to chase after them when Wade lifted his head. 

“...ready ta come out? Say hi ta Laura and Vanessa?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, ‘m pretty sure I’m good,” Wade nodded. 

Logan shifted and pulled the blankets back and off of himself as he sat up right. Wade pulled them back as well, but still remained cocooned in them. He shifted and shimmied across the mattress till he could comfortably lean against Logan. 

“Hey,” Vanessa greeted softly. 

“Hey,” Wade gave her a soft smile. 

“Missed ya,” she added. “Logan did a good job at taking care of ya.” 

“Hmmm he did…thanks Peanut, I owe ya.” 

“Nah,” Logan shrugged. “ Deal enough with my shit, the least I can do.” Yeah, sure, maybe this was a bad idea. Logan’s all too familiar with bad ideas. He knows that there’s gonna be a consequence for this sooner or later. But that can wait. 

Wade hummed as he felt Logan’s hand slide under the blankets. Feeling around, until he reached Wade’s hand. “yoink,” Wade said softly as he took Logan’s hand, threading their fingers together.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: Hate Sex w/ Ex!Fratboy!Bucky Barnes (ft. sorority sister!reader

a/n: i cannot begin to tell you how fucking aware i am that this is late and i'm almost falling behind but ohmygoodness i've been literally exhausted for the past two days. i'm lowkey pissed about it because i was super excited to write for this day and actually writing for it felt like i was dragging my feet behind me.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Fuck James Buchanan Barnes.

He’s a piece of shit, an asshole, a womanizer, a player, a liar and a dirty fucking cheat, but goddamn it, why do you always find yourself here? 

You hated him – no – you do hate him! 

Even people that hate their exes like the fact that they catch their eye, that they can’t find it within themselves to look away from them, that in some way, some capacity, they will always want them, that they will always be theirs regardless of whoever they get with in the future. 

Bucky knew you’d come to the party at his frat, and you knew that you would go with every intention of fucking with him. To everyone else, you were just bitter exes - that needed to fuck out whatever was going on between the two of you - so when you showed up in a dress that fell just below your ass, your friends figured you were just trying to get laid; but no one knew that this was his favorite color on you, let alone his favorite dress.

You just so happened to pick it out, that’s all! Couldn’t a girl want to pamper herself nowadays?

You fake laughed at whatever the dude that had fallen right into your trap said, a manicured hand lifting up to slap him on his arm gently, making extra sure to graze the naked skin of his arm that was exposed by his muscle tee with your acrylics. You fluttered your eyelashes at him innocently, a faux sweet smile on your face. 

Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted Bucky to take you home, or to his room, or to wherever the fuck he wanted too – but you’d never admit that to yourself. You couldn’t. He couldn’t win this game of cat and mouse, not without a fight, and you just so happened to love playing dirty.

You could feel Bucky’s stare burning into your back. Your bodycon dress was completely strapless, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as your breasts threatened to spill out over the top. You weren’t a sorority slut by any means, one of your sister’s had that covered, but still, you were going to go home with somebody tonight.

Even if he was an idiot.

“That’s so funny, Aaron.” Aaron laughed nervously, cheeks blooming a deep red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s uh- actually Eric.” Right. “Sorry.” You giggled, raising the neck of your beer as if it was some sort of explanation for the fact that you don’t really give a shit about what his name is and more about what’s in his pants.

Before you could speak, your eyes raised up to meet Bucky’s, who was standing across the pull, two ladies vying for his attention as he puffed on what looked like a blunt. It looked like he was in the same boat that you were; that he didn’t care about what they were saying, only you.

Biting your lip, you turned your gaze back to Aaron – Eric. 

You knew you’d have to up the ante in order to get him to move, because right now you know he thinks that you’re all bark no bite. You’ll show him.

“You know…” You made a finger walking motion up his arm, the tips of your nails now slightly digging into his skin. “How about we get out of here?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him. “It’s too crowded… and loud.” Your hand finally rested on his upper bicep, giving it a soft squeeze. The poor man’s jaw was slightly dropped, as if he was a fish out of water. 

“Yeah, yeah, I-” He attempted to say, but when you raised your gaze again, Bucky was gone, and you had forced yourself to bite back a wolfish smile because you knew he was on the move somewhere.

“What’s goin’ on over here?” Bucky’s voice sounded as he approached the both of you from behind. Eric looked as if he had seen a ghost, but the poor boy had no idea that he was just a pawn in your game. 

“Oh- uh- nothin’ man, just talking.” You raised a brow at Eric’s shaky excuse. Internally, you rolled your eyes. What a pussy. 

“Really?” Bucky asked in amusement, not even bothering to hide the face splitting smirk that contorted his face. “Yep.” You responded, popping the ‘p’ as you took the blunt from him. You wrapped your mouth around it, your gaze almost challenging him as you sucked, pulling the smoke into your lungs. It burned but it was worth it to see the tick in his jaw and the slight twitch in his eye at the sight of your pursed lips.

“I think that I um- I’m just gonna go.” Eric squeaked awkwardly. All lustful intention slipped away from him as he grasped his hand and shook it. From the poor man’s wince you can tell that Bucky put a little bit too much force in his shake.

When the random guy slipped away you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Real smooth.” You commented. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” 

“I’m talking about you trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of him.” The way you said it was as if it was the most casual thing on earth. “I almost forgot how possessive you get when you know someone else wants me.” You tilted your chin up to finally face him, and you caught yourself from almost stumbling over your words at the primal look on his face. 

You did it. You won this game fair - enough - and square.

“Too bad my pussy doesn’t belong to you anymore, isn’t it, James?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. But you weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. 

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m right, even though anger does look good on you.” 

You went to step away, but he was quick to snatch your wrist, “Were not done talkin’.” You made a noncommittal attempt to tug yourself free. “I am.” 

The tension between the two of you sizzled like oil on a pan, beckoning, calling for someone to do something, anything, to appease the burning desire that was coiling in Bucky and yours’ guts.

“If you’re not done then I guess we should find somewhere quiet to talk then.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to offer a rebuttal because he was already dragging you away from the prying eyes of party goers, his frat brothers and your sorority sisters. You already had an idea of where he was taking you, pushing the both of you through the sea of people that flooded the house, most of them drunk or high or a hammered off of a little bit of everything that was rotating throughout the home.

When he’d found his room, he was grateful that no one had decided to fuck in it, because that was what he was supposed to be doing.

He let your body be the thing that slammed the door shut with a loud bang!

He kissed you harshly, his left hand grasped your chin while the other hiked a full leg over his hip, grinding his erection onto your needy core.

“Fuck!” You gasped, your back arching off the wood as you broke the kiss. The friction of his jeans against your pulsing clit sent you staggering for balance, your inhibitions clouding your mind when you allowed your self-control to completely flee from within you.

“Bucky baby.” You whined. The man practically preened at the sound of his old nickname, his humping turning harder and calculated. He clearly had an end goal in mind. 

“What were you sayin’ about this pussy not bein’ mine no more?” He quipped. “I still mean it.” You gasped. He growled, but nonetheless, that didn’t deter him from shoving his face in the corner of your neck and biting down on the skin. Hard.

You yelped at the pain, but it shot down straight to your stimulated core. The bite only drew you closer to your embarrassingly fast approaching orgasm. It had been so long since you’d been touched by him, and God, you missed his hands, his voice, his touch, his smell, his cock.

“‘M close, Buck, ‘m so close.” You murmured, waving your fingers through his brunette hair and tugging on the strands. You felt a burning bitterness well-up in your gut when the tips of your fingers brushed against the hard plastic of the silver crown on top of his head. You sneakily took it off before throwing it somewhere in his room.

“No need to be jealous, honey.” He teased with a smirk on his face. “Shut— shut up!” Your rebuttal only came out as a whine. You could feel the cloth of your laced thong stick to your wet labia with every grind on his jeans – which also now sported a dark spot on his pants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore as you came. “There you go. That’s it, good girl.” Small whimpers slipped out of you as he worked you into overstimulation. 

“God,” He groaned. “I’ve gotta fuck you.”

Guiding his face up to yours, you brushed your lips together, holding your intense eye contact with one another. “Then fuck me, Buck. I think you have a point to prove.” He leaned forward just a bit to nip at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 

“Fuckin’ naughty.” Bucky grunted, forcing your leg down from his hip for a moment to snatch your panties down your legs. Your hands shot out to his belt buckle, slipping the leather out of it and unbuttoning his jeans. It was your turn to shove his pants down and grab his hard on, his hot cock pulsing in your hand.

The air in the back of his throat caught at the feeling of your stroking, “God– turn around.” You did as he said and felt his large, calloused hands pushing up your dress.

“Gonna make sure everyone at this fuckin’ party knows you’re mine.” He says lowly, pulling down his underwear to his mid-thigh and prodding his tip at your entrance. “Even if you fuckin’ hate me.” With that, he entered you, splitting you in half on his cock.

You cried out at the feeling, false nails scratching at the surface of his door in an attempt to keep yourself steady. “Feels so good, Buck. So, so, good.” You mewled, your hips pushing out on their own accord to try and take your own pleasure. “Always so fuckin’ greedy.” He chided. His hands grabbed at the fat of your ass, pulling out of you only to slam back in, sending you up the wall.

Your bodies moved in a familiar symphony that had been sung numerous times before, as they hadn’t forgotten one another, they were just simply waiting for the both of you to press play.

His dick repeatedly prodded at your g-spot, the friction sending you into overdrive as you moaned, and cried and begged. “God, I think ‘m gonna cum, Buck!” You exclaimed, walls repeatedly clenching down on him. “That’s right, doll. ‘Fuckin squeeze me.” He bellowed, his own thrusts growing sloppy as he neared his end.

Your noises raised in pitch before your arms gave out and you collapsed forward, instead opting to cross your arms and rest your head on your forearms.

“Gonna cum in this sweet pussy, sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth, his thrusting growing sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Do it, fuck, I-” Your words died out, your body wracking with shivers as your second orgasm of the night overtook you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt his seed warm your insides, painting your womb white as your eyesight went white, and your pussy sucked him up for all he’s worth.

Your chests heaved.

“I still hate you.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He said through a smile.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl

[strabara]

•.SHIGARAKI’S SEXTAPE.•

SUMMARY: Y/N is batshit crazy for Shigaraki that she finds him and confesses her undying love for him. And he promises to return her love only if she completes a small favor. Y/N of course blindly obliges.

Notes: I had posted this on AO3 AGESS AGOOO. But! I decided it deserved a remake. Also bc I’m making a second part soo yea :3 AGAIN as I’ve said before English isn’t my first language and it wasn’t very good 2 years ago.. so watch out for grammatical issues and terrible writing skills..

WARNINGS: NONCON, CREAMPIE, SHAMELESS SMUT, ROUGH SEX, BREEDING, CREAMPIE, FORCED PREGNANCY, NOT BETA READ, PLOT WHAT PLOT/ PORN WITHOUT PLOT, SEXTAPE, PITY SEX, HUMILIATION, OVERSTIMULATION, LOSS OF VIRGINITY

Y'know to the pro heroes the video that Shigaraki filmed of you looked fucked up. It was even more fucked up that it was being broadcasted live for everyone to see. People didn’t need to know who you were to know that you were 'Kidnapped'. After all they think you’re his hostage and you’re doing all of this against your will. But oh how they were so wrong. Right now you were seen as a barely clothed chained girl who was being forced to suck dick.

But to you this was all apart of your sick fantasy that you dreamed of! Sure it’s weird somebody even liked Shigaraki but no.. you loved him. You loved him so much that you'd do anything for him, LITERALLY. I mean here you were shamelessly rubbing circles to your clit as your face was getting fucked by Shigaraki! All they could hear was muffled moans and groans. A truly terrifying sight for anyone.

"Agh.. Look at you taking me so well.. I'll reward you with my disgusting cum you little slut."

You gurgled and sped up your pace to your clit. You moaned as you reached your peak and on cue he released his thick salty ropes into your mouth. You whine as they traveled down your throat. Panting as you hold your heavy eyes, tired from the Costant stimulation to your clit. God how this turned you on. He takes himself out of your mouth as he quickly grabs you by the neck, shoving your face into the camera.

"Open your mouth and show them how you swallowed a villians cum you Whore."

You slowly opened your mouth showing your tongue and bruised throat. You wanted to smile but couldn't since that would show you really weren't doing this against your will. Shigaraki started to laugh as he threw you to the floor making you whimper. He then grabbed you by the hair, pulling you towards him. He spreads your legs as he got inbetween them, his hard member falling onto your cunt making you flinch slightly. Almost instantly he disintegrating your panties before he put your thighs to your chest.

You were now basically naked, well except for the ripped up thigh high socks you had on. Your uniform was all ripped up and discarded to the side somewhere.

"How does it feel knowing your virginity will be stripped away from you by a villian? Not only that but I'll make you bear my children! You hear that? Your small cunts gonna be forced to swallow my villian seed!"

He smirks at you before he ran his tip along your slit, making you shudder. This made the heroes hearts drop. But only added love to yours. You couldnt believe this was actually happening!! The man you’d been in love with for who knows how long was about to take your virginity! Oh how luck was on your side.

"No p-please! I beg you! You can let me go I wont tell them anything I-I promise!"

You yelp as he slaps your pussy, grabbing and pulling at your clit. A hand went to your head before he grabbed a handful of your hair. His lips came to your ear all the while he had a smirk on his lips.

"Hmm i thought about it and how about.. No?"

And just like that he snapped his hips forward, pushing his large shaft into you with a single thrust. You choked as he stretched you out. You really were willing to do anything but the pain really did hurt. You screamed loudly all the while you threw your head back throwing weak punches to his chest. Shigaraki was quick to put a hand at your throat to shut you up.

"Hah.. Shit your sucking me in so good it’s like you want me to breed you! How dirty for a cute naive quirkless girl."

The camera catches the small streams of arousal mixed with blood trickle down your hole as it reached the floor. This was the final straw for the heroes.

"what the hell are we doing! This girl is getting Assualted and we're just going to let it happen?!"

The Lust hero, Midnight exclaimed.

"Look Midnight we can't do anything! We dont know where they are! And people wont let us search without creating a jam. I get it I want to help too but there’s nothing we can do.!"

 

 

You continued to moan and yelp as he reached into the deepest parts of you not caring about the people who were listening or watching. After a while the pain had subsided and turned into pleasure.

"P-please s' too much!~"

You moan loudly while his tip assualted your cervix every thrust he gave.

"Aw maybe i'll be nice if you’re a good girl and tell me you’re my cocksleeve."

You squeak as he gripped your hips tighter, almost as if he was promising he would leave bruises.

"N-no i don't want to be anything to you just let me gah!~"

You stop as he bites your body leaving love marks everywhere as he showed you’re HIS property. Shaking your head he licks up your neck until reaching your parted lips. Being quick to thrust his tongue in. Your mouth leaking with saliva while he dominated your mouth. He stops before he licking his lips, watching you gasp for air as your mouth quivered.

"Cmon say it, you’re my cocksleeve and you’re a slut that loves villian cock. Theres no way anyone else will want you. After all you’re being used up by a big bad villian!"

This Sickening Fantasy of yours was a dream come true!

"I-I’m your cocksleeve!~ and a slut who loves villian C-cock!~"

This was probably humiliating for others but it turned you on so much more. You shamelessly wrapped your arms around his neck while wheezing.

"Hey wait a minute.. You just got tighter! Ha that turned you on huh? How dirty of you."

You just continued to cry and whimper as you turned you head away, but that shortly changed when he started to hit your G spot. You yelp loudly before your arms left his neck, putting them on his abdomen to push him away.

"Whats wrong huh? Need to cum?"

You squeal as he rubbed your sensitive clit, making your toes curl and eyes roll back.

"A-ah no! I dont wanna cum!"

Your orgasm was approaching fast as he continued to hit your G spot all the while he teased your clit.

"Ha! What a treat! Cmon cum on this villian cock! I wanna hear how someone disgusting like me makes a good little civilian feel."

His hips rocked back and forth as your body bounced. He took this time to suck your nipples, bringing you over the edge you were so eagerly trying to get to.

"A-agh I’m cumming!~"

Unexpectedly you squirted all over him coating his cock and balls with your juices. He lets out a creepy laugh before gripping your jaw to look at him.

"Wow you’re disgusting! You said you didnt like me ya big perv! Well here’s my treat for you so make sure to swallow every bit of it! You'll look so pretty pregnant! Agh you'll be forced to be burdened with MY kids it’s just amazing!"

The overstimulation was bringing tears to your eyes as you shook your head no.

"No please pull out I dont wanna get pregnant!~"

His hips slammed into you fast at an animalistic speed as you continued to bounce. Your moans cracking from all the screaming, cheeks wet with tears and saliva. He roughly kisses you to shut you up as you felt a second release coming. Finally he slammed into you one last time releasing his sperm into your cervix. You moan into the sloppy kiss as your second orgasm ripped through you, making you to squirt again.


"Wow i must have really made you feel good, Not only that you squirted again, truly amazing guess quirkless people can make up for it huh."

You heavily breathed while letting out small whimpers. He started to cackle as he put the camera to your ahegao like face, along with pulling out of you to watch his cum ooze out slowly.

"Oops let’s just push that back in yeah?"

You whine as his finger pushes into

your sensitive cunt, plugging his cum inside. The pro heroes felt guilt in their hearts, they failed to protect a civilian. You on the other hand were fucked dumb. All you could think about was how good he made you feel, how full you felt. You let out a shaky breath as you pull your pussy apart. Allowing your hole to glisten from the camera's light.

"I-I’m yours only, P-please Mr. Shigaraki… use me to your h-hearts content."

You manage to slip out with tired heart eyes and a subtle grin. His smile just widens before he thrusted back inside you, making you moan softly.

"Of course how could I refuse such an offer?"

 

 

Multiple citizens were left traumatized, but this didnt stop many from being determined to find you. Although there were some people who were really weird about it. I mean somebody broke into the news station and stole the video!! They literally uploaded everywhere. Top trending video for awhile weirdly. Lots of people watched it they called it 'Shigaraki's sextape' it was super long, nearly 7 hours.

The search continued and continued which bugged the shit out of you! After all you were the one stalking Shigaraki and you were the one who told him about your crazy obsession, how you were in love with him, how you'd do anything he asked of you!.. Even if it would ruin your image. Couple of months had went by and you were now 5 months pregnant with triplets! Oh how happy you were. You found out that you were having 2 boys and a girl.

"Oh! Y/N look what I got you! Its perfect for your triplets so you can try to put them to sleep at the same time!"

You open the gift to find a small box it had a voice box so you were assuming it was to record your voice. With a smile you turned to the radio hero.

"Thank you Mr. Mic I appreciate this gift!"

Yea... about that, part of Shigaraki's plan was for you to get found so if he and his future league ever did need shelter they could stay in your apartment. But, you didnt get an apartment. Instead you got a huge ass house gifted to you from the pro heroes! After all they were filled with guilt that they couldnt save you from the so called 'Trauma' you experienced, or the fact you’re forced to have kids you 'don’t' want. And lets not even talk about how they found you and the state you were in, it was... something.

"Alright who's gift is this? There's no name."

"Dont know probably a gift sent from a random person."

Alot of the random gifts people sent were… questionable to say the least. Its also a bit unsettling that some people would comment on your instagram with the link to the video saying they 'wished it was them he did it to'. You won’t lie now you always click the link so you could watch him and in the end you always masturbate to it. You sigh, slowly ripping the wrapping paper to find a small box that looked shabby and old filled with bibs, onesies and a small envelope. You s slowly open the envelope to find a scratchy like note that read 'I love you, so you better make sure that my kids are well taken care of or else you'll regret it.' Wait.. Shigaraki spent his valuable time to send you gifts AND he told you he loved you!?

The Tomura Shigaraki wasted his precious breath on someone weird like you?! Kicking your feet you squeal and hold the note to your chest. You blush as you look up to the pro heroes surrounding you.

"What is it Y/n? A love letter? "

The pro heroes start to laugh as you giggle.

"No.. Its just... "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Shigaraki truly does love me!.."

Notes: OKAYY so I did change some pieces here and there uhh sorry if there’s still mistakes I’m fucking blind. Hope you enjoyed! I’m currently working on part 2 now!

[kivino]

KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into complete mush, putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolder with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing something nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Nine

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You)

Word Count: 3770 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT).

WARNING: References to abuse, graphic descriptions of injury

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content)

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A/N: Did somebody order a random burst of productivity? 🤠

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Chapter Nine - Tantrum

“Get up.”

A clank of metal thunks into your bandaged abdomen. Air escapes you and your blurred eyes widen in search of the assailant. You find her. “W-what?”

“Get up.” Demands Lae’zel for a second time, standing proudly above you, paying no mind to your discomfort or exhaustion. You look down and see the weight trapping your legs: A greatsword.

“Why? What’s happening-?” You call out in vain, but she doesn’t waste her precious breath on helping you to understand as she walks away. Are you supposed to follow her? She stops and looks over her shoulder, impatiently waiting for you. You slide the sword off your lap despite the protest of your bruised muscles. “Nnngh!” You sigh with relief and, through great effort, slowly begin to pull yourself up.

“Stop it, you know she shouldn’t be moving, right now.” Shadowheart advises, glaring up at Lae’zel, still hovering her luminescent hand over your wounds. Lae’zel scoffs and rolls her eyes, marching over to pull you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. Hissing with pain, you attempt to push her off, but she holds on strong. To her, you’re nothing but air. Wasted, useless air. She begins to drag you away, picking up the greatsword as she goes. “H-hey!” Shadowheart calls out, reaching out to continue the spell.

Your heels drag in the dirt as you feebly struggle in her grasp. “Nngh-ahh!” The pathetic lump that is your body hits the dirt before her. “What the fuck is wrong with y-ahh!” Another hit to the abdomen from the tossed sword.

“Pick it up.” She glares at you. You glare back.

“If you want to kill me, just do it already.” The forced bravado in your voice wavers slightly.

“Chk...” She responds simply, flicking a stray lock of her hair in the air. She doesn’t ask again. Inspecting her face and the way she grips her own weapon, you realise just how quickly those muscles could tear you apart. And yet, they don’t.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to pick up the damned sword, istik.”

Sighing, you reluctantly stumble to your feet, arms hanging from your bandaged torso. You stand before her, breeches soiled with dirt and blood, bandages corset tight and inhibiting your maximum breath capacity. You heave with the effort it takes to stand and strain to reach the sword below. It’s in your hands, tugging at sinews that scream to your nerves. After you drop it, you glance up at her. She watches you intently, offering no assistance.

“Again.” She commands.

“I-it’s too heavy-” You concede.

“Again.”

You sigh and focus, willing your muscles to push through the pain and eventually, you lift the handle off the ground, the blade scoring the earth below. You grin up at her proudly and you swear, for just a moment, the corner of her lips twitched into the slightest smirk of her own.

The tip of her identical blade points towards you in challenge, her singular, glorious arm outstretched. “Now fight.”

“F-wha-?!”

She charges towards you and attempts a strike, to which you flinch and cower. She stops, inches from your neck. “You have a weapon. Use it.” Peering from behind your bracing hands, you see her making her way back to her starting position. “Again.”

Your eyes widen as her graceful steps seem to dance towards you, beautiful, methodical… Deadly. You struggle with the weight of your weapon, managing to hold it up in time to hear the clank of your connecting metal. She counters with ease, blades screeching as she masterfully choreographs the movement before your eyes. You lose control of it and stumble back as she prepares a new blow. She lunges at you, and hits nothing but the memory of where you used to be.

Looking down at your feet, you almost don’t recognise them as they had worked of their own accord, instinctively dodging her attack. You glance up at her, panting and surprised. She doesn’t praise. She furrows her brow and tries again. Stumbling back, your ass hits the floor, sending a jolt of pain through your aching muscles. Cold, sharp steel grazes your chin and you open your eyes to see the amber fire within hers.

The lines of her blade may as well be the lines of her face, of her body. It isn’t an extension of her. It is her. And you start to think there’s something… Thrilling… About being at her mercy.

“Do not let your guard down. Not even for a moment.” Her fierce glare seeps into your soul. She tilts her head down, allowing strands of her reddened hair to caress her cheeks. She pays them no mind. Her focus is her target. Her focus is you. She lowers her blade and steps back.

“Again.”

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Bruised but somehow not broken, stumbling back to camp never felt so good. Muscles pained but, finally, with purpose.

“What in the hells- Tav?!” Wyll leaps up from his spot around the campfire, rushing towards you to help you stay standing. Looking down at your own legs, inked purple and blue, you wonder how they hold you up, you wonder why you don’t feel it as much as you did before.

Lae’zel, who was following closely behind you, blocks Wyll’s frantic path. Some standing, some sat, all companions turn to face the scene. “Enough coddling. All of you.” She demands, firm and powerfully unyielding.

“Soldier, are you-?!” Karlach moves closer, but is, once again, blocked by Lae’zel’s magnificently crafted form. They stare each other down, neither formidable woman relenting until Karlach flicks her eyes to you, seeking insight.

You nod reassuringly and move to stand beside Lae’zel. “I’m fine, really.”

Your new mentor looks down at you… Approvingly… You think…?

Limping your way to the campfire, you sit beside Shadowheart, whose hand is itching to heal your wounds. But she refrains as you do not ask for aid. You sit there, in pain and loving every sting and pang of it. Astarion finally dares to glance up at you as you close your eyes, lean back on your hands and breathe through your aching. Feeling confident you won’t notice it, his gaze lingers on your neck, the scars he left behind accompanied by new abrasions that are a little too close to them than he’d like. It’s the first time he’s properly seen them since he put them there. They seem to be healing well. He shifts in his seat, unexplainably uncomfortable at the thought of them disappearing into your skin. Your eyes twitch with exhaustion as you begin to pry open. He looks away.

The others take their seats by the fire, occasionally glancing at you with concern. Shadowheart’s seething focus is mainly on Lae’zel though, who is digging into her meal without a care in the world. They lock eyes and you swear you hear a crackle in the air. Gale hasn’t looked up at all. He’s so still… Has he been like this… All day?

“Gale…?” Wyll speaks softly as he sits beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. You watch as Gale slowly lifts his tired head, not daring to look at you.

“Gale?” You give it a try, maybe he’ll speak to you, if you invite him?

“I…” He begins. “Tav… I… I thought… You were…”

“But I wasn’t, was I?” You cut in dismissively, immediately defensive and irritated that he still speaks to you like a gloved hand, handling porcelain.

He sighs and rubs his face before looking up at you. “Tav, you don’t understand, you could have-“

“But I didn’t.”

“I know, but you could have and it would’ve been all my fault and-“

“But I didn’t. Did I?” You state firmly, loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. You look around, locking eyes with everyone individually, even Astarion. “I chose to leave this camp. I chose to take that risk. I merely invited Gale to come with me. What happens to me is on me, and only me.”

“Tav, you were hurt. That’s on all of us.” Chimes in Karlach, who only suffers further heat from your piercing gaze.

“How many times have I cleaned your blood from your clothes, hmm? How many times has Shadowheart casted a healing spell, hmm? You are all injured, all the time. Why is it so different when it’s me?!”

“Because, unlike you, we can handle ourselves!” Shadowheart blurts out, earning a targeted, furious glare from your eyes.

“Well, fuck that!” You stand up abruptly, trying not to wince at the pain. “Look, I’m not a fighter, I know that... But I’m also not stupid. Having me by your side is going to get someone killed eventually.” You make eye contact with Lae’zel and smile proudly, standing up straight. “From now on, I want to train. And anyone who wants to stand in the way of that can go fuck themselves! Does that sound fair to all of you?!” You look around, daring anyone to speak. Lae’zel grins. Astarion’s mouth curls into a smirk, you don’t know why exactly, but you also don’t care. The rest look up at you, speechless. With a defiant huff, you storm off, not interested in what anyone else thinks anymore.

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

“Fucking bullshit-Ugh!” You kick your bruised leg into a tree and clutch it as it aches. The pang fuels your roar of anger as your hands turn into fists and your purple knuckles collide with the bark. “Aaargh!”

“Oh, I do hope you’re not pretending that tree is me…”

You turn to the voice with a fury in your eyes that doesn’t lessen, even as you realise who it came from. “Fuck off, Astarion! I’m not in the mood!”

He pauses, a little taken aback, but not by your anger, but by something else. “So you can speak to me, after all…”

“W-what…?” You say, still panting from your punches, hands still clenched into fists.

“Just glad to have finally been acknowledged, is all…” He walks over to you, no, past you, and examines the tree. There’s not much damage aside from smears of blood from your own knuckles. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t.” And why not lie? You don’t owe him anything. But then he looks at you with the most ‘seriously?’ of expressions and you sigh in defeat.

“Why?” He asks strangely softly as his gaze flicks back to the reddened bark of the tree. You shrug, avoiding looking at him.

“Did I make you uncomfortable? Hurt you?”

“No… I mean, no more than… Intended…” Your fingertips ghost over his mark on your neck. He swipes his thumb through the blood on the tree and admires the colour against his skin.

“Did you enjoy it?” It’s a simple question, infuriatingly so. But, you haven’t felt anything but anxiety about the whole thing since it happened, so how can you answer him? You want to bite back, avoid the question and forget it ever happened… But you can’t, because, for whatever reason, you know he won’t let you. So, you reluctantly search your memory and open yourself up to whatever feelings you remember.

His cold skin on yours, his fangs in your neck, his breath on your ear, the taste of his spit. You feel it all again. You feel your heart beat faster and the pooling between your legs at the thought. Of course, he never properly touched you… But, you touched him. And you suppose it served it’s purpose-… Okay… You really liked it…

You nod. “Yeah, I did.”

His eyes move to fully focus on you now. “Even though you didn’t…?”

“I still enjoyed it…” You look away.

“You did…” He repeats, in a tone of slight surprise and subtle confusion. But, it’s not a question and you’re not about to give him any more than you have to, so you stay quiet. For a moment, he simply examines you, presumably to glean any further insight into your answer. You feel the weight of his gaze and decide to meet it with your own, determined not to let him in. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat, looking away again.

“Your little tantrum earlier was certainly entertaining...” He states flippantly as the grin you know all too well stretches across his face once again.

You scoff. “It wasn’t a tantrum.”

“Darling, the only thing missing from your dramatic exit was a toddler’s stomp.”

You scowl. “I meant everything I said.”

“I know.” He says quickly, without mockery and with confidence. You open your mouth to retort before you realise he’s being sincere, and nothing comes out. “Tantrum or not, I… Admired you… For what you did back there... You stood up for yourself…” You can tell it was a fight to get the words out and you can’t help but wonder why he’d even go to the trouble.

“Thank you…” You say earnestly. He nods and you mirror his exact expression from before, seeking insight.

“Although, going out there with nothing but Gale to protect you, wasn’t your brightest idea was it, dear?”

“Oh, shut up.” You fold your arms and roll your eyes.

He huffs with amusement, holding his hands up in playful surrender. “What? I’m just saying… If you intend to ‘carpe diem’ once again, maybe pick someone more like-”

“Let me guess, someone like you?”

“Me? Oh gods no, darling. I’m not going to valiantly lug your unconscious body all the way back to camp.” You scoff, slightly offended, but mostly amused. “No, no… Someone like Wyll or Shadowheart… Maybe even Lae’zel, since I see you two have found an understanding…?” He pries.

You nod, smirking. “Yeah, I think I might have made her smile once.”

He gasps melodramatically, clutching his chest before leaning in closer. “Now that is admirable.” He murmurs to you with a grin. A grin that is merely inches away. You observe it for a moment before speaking again.

“Why did you follow me out here?” You ask, still smiling.

“I… Well, I…” He pauses, grin faltering and standing up straight as he thinks on his answer. “I was wondering if I could, um… ” He glances at the wounds on your neck.

“Ah… And you thought now would be the best time, huh?” You gesture to your beaten form.

He looks at you guiltily and you almost believe it, he shakes his head. “Yes, of course, you’re right… You need to, um… Save your strength. Forget I asked...” Taking a step back, he looks around, hands absentmindedly tapping his outer thighs.

You try to recall the last time you fed him and remember that due to your injuries, you had taken a couple of days off from your responsibilities to recover. He hasn’t fed since. At least, not from you. “Is it bad…? The hunger, I mean…”

“It…” He sighs. “It’s been worse before... Much worse… I’ll live.” He glances at your neck again, but this time, not with longing. He reaches out his hand. “May I…?” Intrigued, if not a little wary, you nod. With your permission, he brushes his cool fingers lightly over the puncture marks along your pulse. “Do they hurt?”

You shake your head. “Not anymore. They just, kind of, itch, now…”

At your words, he allows himself to apply more pressure to your skin. His hand gently cups the side of your neck and traces the shape of the wounds with his thumb. After his moment of appreciation, he takes a deep breath and places his palm over them. The ice that is his skin soothes the inflamed marks as you gaze up at him, watching the way his eyebrows twitch as he touches you. He sees your eyes, the way they’re locked onto him, and offers a slight smile. It could mean a thousand things, it could mean nothing, you don’t know, but you do smile back.

It’s almost comical, the situation you’ve found yourself in. One month ago you were staring at that crack in the ceiling, the same one you’d stared at for years. You noticed how it had gotten bigger, how it had stayed with you. How it had been there when the tears in your eyes had blurred it, and when you couldn’t muster any tears at all. How it had been there when you were desperate to feel something, and when you wanted to never be touched again. Now, you haven’t seen a ceiling in weeks, only stars and clouds. You think it’s certainly prettier than that crack. But you do miss it’s company. You miss how it watched your wounds heal, how it was a witness to the new ones being created. Now you have wounds, they sting and they ache, but you hate the idea of covering them. You want the world to be your new crack in the ceiling, to witness your pain and your revelry in the fact that it did not break you.

Even the ones that Astarion put there, you see no sense in covering them. Unlike many of the others in your life, you feel no shame in wearing them. Because these were your doing, your choice to make. You cherish the proof of that moment. The moment that you shared something, that it wasn’t taken from you.

“Thank you…” It slips out before you can stop it. His brows cock in confusion, shouldn’t he be thanking you?

“Wh-”

“No, don’t… Don’t ask why… Just… Thank you…” You cut him off, he narrows his eyes at you in inspection. But, then he takes a deep breath and nods, utterly perplexed, but respecting your wishes nonetheless. You can’t help but huff in amusement at his bewilderment.

He rubs his thumb against your neck, his fangs protrude ever so slightly over his bottom lip as it stretches into a smile. You acknowledge them, but what really grabs your attention are the others. The blunt, ‘normal’ looking ones. They’re perfectly aligned into perfect rows. Perfect pearly whites. A contrast to your off-kilter, off-colour bite. Must be those high-elven genes, you suppose… You watch them as they gently press into his lower lip. Then, your eyes flick up to see that you’re not alone. He, too, is watching your parted lips as they slowly relax from your earlier smile.

“You know, if you want to kiss me again, you only have to ask…” He says, not breaking his concentration.

“Oh-er, no I wasn’t-” You say, caught off guard and uncharacteristically flustered.

“Oh, you weren’t?” He steps closer, grinning.

“No, I was just-”

“Staring at my lips for a strangely long amount of time?”

…

Shit…

“Look, it wasn’t like that…”

“Oh, of course it wasn’t, my dear… My mistake…” He places his hand on his chest in a feigned apologetic act. You sigh and look up at him with a firm, almost scolding look, to which he only grins at. “Would it help to know that I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head, since the last time?” 

Okay, that stops you in your tracks. You go to retort whatever tease he was planning next, but yet again, he has rendered you speechless. He chuckles softly, stepping closer again. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised, darling. We shared a wonderful little moment together… I only want to show you what you missed out on… What I can really do…”

“Missed out on…? What?” You question, genuinely confused, you know you didn’t leave that tent wanting.

“Well, I just don’t feel that you got to experience my…” He takes a deep breath. “Full portfolio of talents…” His eyes glance back down to your lips. “I’d quite like to show them to you, if you’re willing?”

Only in that moment do you realise just how long the air has been trapped inside your lungs, but you can’t bear the thought of breathing it out, because you know just how shaky it will sound. Instead you swallow, eyes locked on his. But his eyes wander, they wander all over your face, taking in every detail of your deliciously stunned expression. He can’t get enough of this, reducing you to little, if any, words. It’s certainly a rarity. And he adores it.

That… ‘Moment’… Was a moment of desperation. One you hadn’t thought to repeat. Certainly not whilst comfortably present in your body. But, you can’t deny the building heat in your core at the thought. The thought of potentially going even further with him than before. But you also can’t deny the pressure in your chest, the kind that makes you feel naked, and not in a good way…

“I…”

He hears your hesitation and removes his hand from your neck, you almost lean into it, not wanting his touch to end, but you stop yourself. He observes you, your body, black, red and blue. “If it’s pain you’re worried about, I can help with that…” He steps closer. “You won’t have to move. A. Muscle…”

Panic? Lean in? Step back. “I don’t know, I need to think about it…” You hate how uncertain you sound. He doesn’t.

“Hmm… Alright, don’t answer now.” He pauses to think for a moment. “Tonight, I’ll stay up in my tent. Once you’ve realised that resisting my charms is futile, come and find me.”

You take a deep breath. “And if I don’t?”

“Darling, I never refuse an opportunity to enjoy a candlelit book and a cup of wine.” That earns a slight smile from you. “And… I’ll gracefully assume that our last… ‘Encounter’… Was just a blip, a momentary lapse in judgement.” His playful grin falters a little. “We can… Forget it ever happened…”

After a moment of contemplation, you nod in understanding. A new variant of pain hits your chest at the thought of him backing off completely, different from everything else you’ve suffered today. And honestly, you’d rather feel the hilt of a sword in your stomach than whatever this is, right now… You need space to mull this over logically, not emotionally.

“Alright… I’ll… Yeah, okay…”

He grins. “Good…” He takes a moment to appreciate your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes struggle to meet his, before stepping back. He looks towards the dim orange light from your campfire, peeking through the trees. “Well, if I don’t see you… Goodnight, darling…”

You nod. “Yeah… Goodnight…”

He glances back at you and smiles before turning on his heel and sauntering off towards camp. You watch his every step and he knows it, purposefully slowing his steps.

He’s gone.

You are alone.

And you have a choice.

…

Shit…

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Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[scary-grace]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 2

It’s been two weeks since the League of Villains vs Kamino Ward: Round 2, and there hasn’t been a single day that somebody hasn’t read you the riot act. It wasn’t enough that Miruko did it on-scene, well within microphone range of every single news crew who swarmed the park – every senior hero in Yokohama got in on it, too. And as if it wasn’t already your worst week ever, the HPSC called you in for a formal review of your pro hero license. You didn’t sleep at all the night before, and when you got to the hearing half an hour early with sweat stains already oozing through your one nice blouse, you found out that they’d done the review already, and the hearing was just to present the findings. One of the members of the committee mentioned that you looked a little pale. In hindsight, you’re amazed you didn’t have a heart attack.

You found out that the review of your license was a PR thing more than anything else – although your choices weren’t popular or flashy, nothing about how you handled the incident fell outside the hero code. Not that it matters to the general public. If you had an agency, they’d be booking you on podcasts and talk shows so you could explain yourself, but you’re underground, so you’re stuck listening to TV presenters who’ve never met a villain and podcasters who’d piss themselves if they came face to face with even the pettiest of criminals, all talking about how badly you blew it. There was even a petition circling demanding that you make a public apology for what happened to the All Might statue – one apology to the sculptor who made the statue, and one to All Might himself. When that one started making the rounds, you set your social media accounts to private and hid from your phone for the next three days.

Things are starting to die down, you think, but you’ve still got one stop left on your humiliation tour, and it’s the one you’re dreading the most. Your alma mater is always looking for learning experiences to offer their students, so you’re spending this afternoon at UA, listening while the first-year hero students pick apart every action you took in Kamino Park.

It’s an open forum, so everyone who wants to run their mouth gets a chance to do it, and you sit stonefaced in your chair, praying for your composure to hold. Eraserhead said he’d give you chances to respond, and he does, every time a student sits down. But you don’t want to get into a back-and-forth with a bunch of kids. You did what you did. You can’t go back. Maybe they can learn from what you did wrong.

What did you do wrong, actually? The HPSC cleared you. You’re so unpopular right now that they’d seize any chance they got to strip your licenses, but they cleared you – and you’re still here, listening to a bunch of teenagers take shots at you. The unfairness boils up inside you all at once, and when the next kid sits down, you stand up before Eraser invites you to.

“You all think you could have done better than me out there,” you start. “Maybe you’re right. There are always things that could be done better. What did I do wrong?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Are you stupid or something?” Bakugou asks you. “They got away! That’s what you did wrong!”

“Is it? Kurogiri and Shigaraki got away at USJ, and again at Kamino the first time. I don’t see you lighting All Might’s ass up,” you shoot back. Bakugou makes an affronted sound. “Answer me for real this time. What was my actual, quantifiable mistake?”

It’s quiet for another beat. Eraser opens his mouth, but Class B’s teacher speaks up first. “That’s the more interesting question,” he says. “We’ve talked about how Skynet could have done better. What actual mistake did Skynet make that led to the final outcome of the incident?”

You know what it was, deep in your heart, and you also know that the only person who could call you on it is somebody you hope you never see again. A hand creeps up, and Vlad calls on the student – one of Eraser’s. “Yes, Midoriya?”

“I don’t know if I would call it a mistake,” Midoriya says, “but I was wondering – why didn’t you use more of your quirk?”

That’s a new one. You wait quietly, and Midoriya elaborates. “I mean, Magnetism has dozens of applications. You’re sort of known for being creative with how you use it. And r/herojapan did a power ranking of every active hero and you ranked the highest out of all non-charted heroes.”

That’s news to you. “So I guess that’s what I want to know,” Midoriya concludes. “If you have a quirk with a lot of applications and a lot of power to work with, how could the League of Villains escape?”

“Uh –” You glance at Vlad King, then at Eraserhead. They both gesture for you to go on. “What you said about my quirk – you’re right. I can go big with it. But the bigger I go with it, the less control I have, and I’m not creating magnetic fields out of thin air. I’m enhancing and altering what already exists. Every magnetic field I alter is touching another one, and my alterations affect those fields, too. If I want to use my quirk safely on a large scale, I have to alter some magnetic fields while stabilizing others simultaneously, and I have to do that while protecting civilians and assisting my fellow heroes and trying not to get killed. Using my quirk on the scale I would have needed at Kamino just isn’t possible.”

You can tell Midoriya doesn’t get it. Nobody else does, either. “Maybe you should demonstrate,” the girl from Class B who can make her hands enormous says. “Show us what would have happened if you used your quirk the way Midoriya is talking about at Kamino.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Vlad says. “Ground Beta should be open right now. Let’s go.”

Vlad was your homeroom teacher in your first year at UA. You’ve been struggling not to call him sensei since you set foot on campus, and you know he knows how much you’ve struggled with your quirk. You also knew he was going to support you, but you’re not sure you like how he’s doing it – proving that you’re right, sure, but proving it by proving that you can’t handle your quirk at even partial strength, when the way you were using your quirk wasn’t even the real problem. If you had reacted faster, gotten a solid grip on Shigaraki through other means instead of getting distracted by how not-okay he is, you’d have held all the cards by the time the warp villain came to play. You’d like to see the warp villain try to back you into a corner when you’ve got a piece of rebar wrapped around Shigaraki’s throat.

But you didn’t have your shit together, because you were too stuck on just how shocked Shigaraki looked when you asked if he was okay. Not fake-shocked, not mocking-shocked, not look-at-the-hypocritical-hero-pretending-to-care shocked – truly, honestly shocked, like you’re the first person who’s asked him that question in a while. You flatly refuse to entertain the thought that you’re the first person who’s ever asked him that, because that would be too goddamn sad and you’re not into woobifying villains. You know more than a few heroes who have those romance novels about getting captured and ravished by a not-bad-just-misunderstood villain hanging out on their e-readers, and that’s not your style at all. So why did it bother you, seeing that look on Shigaraki’s face? Why are you still thinking about it two weeks later?

You shake it off as you, Eraser, Vlad, and the students reach Ground Beta. If you don’t want anybody to guess how you actually messed up, you need to do a good job proving that their idea of your mistake is the right one.

Vlad sets up a target a quarter of a mile down Ground Beta’s main street – the distance from one end of Kamino Park to the other – then makes his way back to you and the others. Eraserhead ushers everybody away from you. “Okay,” you say, projecting your voice, “I’m going to show you what it would have looked like for me to use my quirk to drag the League of Villains to me from across Kamino Park.”

Part of you is tempted to just blow it. Use your quirk recklessly, without worrying about consequences or property damage or anything but how it feels to finally let loose. But you’re a hero. You need to set a good example, not give the students even more reasons to question why you still have your license, and even here, there’s a chance that using your quirk at full strength isn’t safe. You get set, feeling the stabilizers in your boots anchor you to the ground. You tap into your metal sense, identifying the target a quarter mile away. Then you extend your hand, activate your quirk as precisely as you can manage, and pull.

The practice target starts moving. Unfortunately, so does everything else. No matter how hard you try to keep your focus on the target and only the target, metal fragments in the concrete lurch upwards, responding to your shift in the magnetic fields, pulling the street apart. The buildings on either side crumple inwards as their steel frameworks tear free. Lightposts bend into impossible shapes. Manhole covers lift from the street and fly towards you, forcing you to employ your other hand to stop them from striking the students behind you. The air vibrates. And sure, the practice target is flying towards you at high speed – but the destruction you’re wreaking on everything in between you and it is worse than what anyone but Shigaraki could have done to Kamino Memorial Park.

You let your grip on the magnetic fields fall when the target’s within thirty feet or so, and let momentum do the rest. Then you turn back towards the students. “This looks bad, right? If I’d done this at Kamino, it would be even worse. Anybody want to guess why?”

“Water mains,” the girl from 1-A with the Creation quirk says at once. You nod. “Cities are full of underground infrastructure, and most of that is made of metal. If your quirk is hard to focus narrowly at a distance from the target, you could do billions of yen worth of property damage.”

“What about people?” the electricity kid from 1-A says – the electricity kid who, if you remember right, also has a wide-range quirk. “Do they get caught when you do that?”

“No,” you say. “I have to be at close range to manipulate the iron in someone’s body. And they have to have enough iron in their bloodstream to make it possible.”

You say that, cringe, and brace yourself for what must be coming – one of the students, probably Midoriya, realizing that Shigaraki’s weapons-grade anemia is what kept him out of your reach at first. Followed by one of the students, probably Midoriya, asking why you didn’t use any of the other means at your disposal to capture him. “Oh,” the electricity kid says instead. “I get it now.”

“I have a question, Skynet,” Bakugou says loudly. “Couldn’t you do all that without destroying everything if you trained your quirk harder?”

You asked yourself that question a lot when you were a student at UA. The theoretical answer was always yes. “No,” you say, without getting into all the reasons why. “Does anyone else have a question?”

A Class B student named Honenuki has a question about what types of property you should avoid damaging if possible, and a Class B student named Monoma wants to know whether you were in Class A or Class B when you were at UA. He looks pretty happy when you say Class B, which is weird. You’re persona non grata among heroes right now. It doesn’t make a ton of sense that he’s excited that you were in the same class as he is. Vlad doesn’t ask you how things have been going; he just pats your shoulder and walks off. You try to escape before Eraserhead can talk to you, and make it exactly five steps before he calls out. “Skynet.”

You grit your teeth. “Do you want me to apologize, too?”

“For what?” Eraser looks irritated. “I asked you to look after my students. You looked after them. I’d be asking you to apologize if you’d let them fight.”

“Oh.” You weren’t looking forward to making that apology. “Then, um – what did you want to talk to me about?”

“My students are used to having their quirks temporarily canceled, but my quirk is unique. They’re much more likely to run into villains whose powers serve to restrain them,” Eraser says. You get where he’s going with this and try to interrupt, but he talks right over you. “I want you to come back for at least one of our basic training sessions. It’s rational to give them a chance to practice against a power set like yours, and it’ll also allow you the chance to work on fine-tuning your quirk.”

You knew there was a backhand somewhere in there. “My quirk’s as fine-tuned as it’s going to get.”

“We’ll see,” Eraser says. “The next basic training where all my students will be present is next Thursday. Come in.”

You recall making a promise to yourself, one which included telling Eraser to go to hell if he asked any more favors. But you still need to rehab your image. A lot. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

You change out of your costume before you leave campus – everything except your boots, which you wear almost all the time – and while you’re waiting for the train, you get a text from the group chat you have with the three other female pros who debuted in the same year as you. That’s about the only thing the four of you have in common, but that’s not stopping Yue from messaging in all caps. I MISSED MY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! WE NEED TO CELEBRATE <3 <3 <3

Yue was the last one of the four of you to debut. Her agency held her back for maximum press impact, whereas you just picked a day at random to quit working as a sidekick and strike out for yourself. Kagura, another member of the debut class, texts back before you can. Spa night?

That sounds good to you, but it’s not Yue’s speed at all. GOING OUT! I CAN GET US INTO CLUB 100 IN TOKYO!

Right – Yue’s number 25, as of the most recent billboard chart update. Mayuko, the member of the class you get along with best, texts next. It might be nice to see what it’s like?

Kagura gives a thumbs-up, and Yue sets the celebration date for tonight – and orders you all to come to her apartment to get ready. She has a special message for you. NO BOOTS, SKY. THEY’RE TOO CLUNKY FOR DANCING.

You send back a frowny face, and Mayuko chimes in. You can borrow my shoes. It’s been so long since we got together! I can’t wait!

That’s true, and you’ve missed them – but right now you’re a liability. Are you sure you want to be seen in public with me? I’m sort of radioactive right now.

Nobody will recognize you out of costume, Yue says, instead of what you were hoping she’d say, which is that it doesn’t matter and she has your back. Be at my place at 6!

There goes your quiet night. You board your train and lean back in your seat. If you have to go dancing tonight, you’d better catch some rest now.

Shigaraki refreshes the page, frowning. Then he refreshes it again, getting the same message. What the hell does ‘set to private’ mean? He googles it, learns that only approved followers can see an Instagram account that’s set to private, and feels a surge of annoyance. It figures. He spent two weeks debating whether or not to look you up, and by the time he’s finally decided it’s not creepy to look up the weird hero who has a crush on him, you locked all of your stupid social media accounts.

Part of Shigaraki still thinks everybody’s messing with him – everybody except Toga, who’s delusional, and Twice, who’s probably never touched a girl who wasn’t in the process of arresting him. But something about it keeps bothering Shigaraki. Something about you keeps bothering him. Thinking about it makes him itch, and not thinking about it isn’t working. After two weeks of trying both, Shigaraki decided to look you up and find out what you’ve said about him and the League of Villains, so he can finally delete the mental save file with you in it.

But you haven’t said much about the League of Villains. Shigaraki can’t tell if that’s because no one’s asked you or because you don’t have anything to say – or at least not anything you’d say publicly, which is why he went looking for your personal social media accounts and found them all locked. Shigaraki scratches with one hand and looks you up on Reddit with the other. He has to be pretty specific in his search query. Just looking up “Skynet” brings up a lot of stuff about movies.

The Reddit threads about you are a mix of obsessive hero fans and people who think you’re hot. The latter group spends a lot of time bitching about the fact that you don’t post enough thirst traps. It doesn’t seem like you go for fanservice. Good. Shigaraki hates heroes on principle, but he hates the ones who don’t showboat ever so slightly less.

You used to work with Eraserhead, which is probably why he let you supervise his class. You went to UA. There are links to all your Sports Festival performances, and Shigaraki bookmarks them for later, in case you’ve got skills you didn’t show in the fight at Kamino. You’re not very well-known, and none of your arrests have been of big-time villains. And as far as Shigaraki can find, you’ve never said a word about the League.

It’s not like Shigaraki was expecting to find a whole essay about why you don’t hate the League and why you have a crush on him. He wouldn’t have liked that. But he also doesn’t like the fact that you apparently didn’t think about the League at all before you fought him at Kamino. Maybe you did and you were just keeping quiet about it. Or maybe you didn’t care at all until you met Shigaraki in person, and then you – what? Worried about him? Cared about him? Wanted him to live? Do people actually fall in love at first sight?

Toga would say yes, but Toga’s seventeen, and also insane. Shigaraki can’t take anything Toga says at face value.

There’s one other spot on Reddit where Shigaraki finds you – in a thread on the weirdest hero names. He remembers the movies that kept popping up in his earlier search results and finds one of them on his favorite pirating site. He’s bored. There’s nothing to do right now. He’s decided not to do anything else until the dust has settled. He has time for a movie.

The hideout is quiet right now. Dabi’s been gone all day. Toga and Twice left this afternoon, either to scout things out or to steal more supplies, and Spinner, Compress, and Magne are all napping in the next room. This afternoon, Shigaraki sent Kurogiri to ask the doctor for help. He didn’t want to do that, but with Sensei gone – gone, and it’s Shigaraki’s fault, because it was his stupid plan – the League is out of Nomus and running out of money. They need backup, and Kurogiri’s better at convincing the doctor to do things than Shigaraki is. A scarecrow with a paper bag over its head is better at convincing people to do things than Shigaraki is. If Shigaraki was convincing at all, he would have won Bakugou over, and none of this would have happened.

The movie is sci-fi, or maybe horror. It’s also really old, from some time period where all the movies were set in a world where quirks don’t exist. If quirks existed, this movie would be over before it even started. Probably. Shigaraki wonders if you’ve seen this movie. If you liked it. What other things do you like, in addition to him?

A few minutes later, he gets an answer to at least one of his questions. You’ve definitely seen this movie, and you must have liked it, or you wouldn’t have named yourself after the evil supercomputer that nuked humanity and started building killer robots to take out anybody who survived. Now Shigaraki gets why you were on the list of heroes with weird names, and he’s pretty sure you should be at the top of it. You must have at least a couple screws loose. That’s probably why you took one look at Shigaraki and decided to fall in love with him. If you have fallen in love with him. Have you?

Shigaraki needs to stop thinking about this. He presses play on the movie again. Now that he’s got at least an answer or two, maybe he can focus on something else. Something other than the fact that he’s tired and hungry and has a headache and will probably get dizzy if he stands up too fast, just like he always has. And the fact that none of those things were a problem until you asked if he was okay.

He must fall asleep or something, because the next thing he knows, the screen of his phone’s gone dark, and someone is hollering at him from the other room. “What?” Shigaraki shouts back.

“Get in here,” Dabi says. Dabi’s back. “Your girlfriend’s on the news.”

“All over the news,” Toga adds gleefully, before Shigaraki can argue back that a) you’re not his girlfriend because b) he doesn’t even like you. “She’s even cuter when she’s covered in blood!”

What? Shigaraki stands up too fast, comes close to blacking out, and scrambles unsteadily into the other room. Magne has the TV on, and Shigaraki elbows his way past Compress and Dabi for a look at the screen. It’s the national news, a special report. Something about speed brakes failing on a Shinkansen headed through Tokyo and a catastrophic derailment. Or what would have been a catastrophic derailment, if it wasn’t for you. Before Shigaraki can tell somebody to look up what happened on their phone – his is dead – the news broadcast plays a video of the incident. All Shigaraki and the others can do is stare.

“Damn,” Spinner says into the silence that falls afterwards. “If she’d done that at Kamino, you all would have been toast.”

No kidding. Shigaraki didn’t go to school past kindergarten, but every idiot knows that trains are heavy, and knows that the faster something is going, the harder it is to stop. In the video, you’re on the tracks behind the speeding train, hand outstretched. Shigaraki sees the train shudder when your quirk catches it. It yanks you off your feet about three seconds later, and you get dragged out of the frame facedown, one hand still extended, still hanging on. Whoever’s holding the camera pans left, following the train, and it’s pretty obvious that the train is slowing down. Shigaraki thought your quirk was good for paralyzing people and pulling wires out of the ground. He’d never have guessed you were capable of this.

“Why didn’t she do that at Kamino?” Dabi asks, baffled. “She could have made it big as the hero who took down the League of Villains instead of getting dragged by the press for letting us go.”

“Which do you think dragged her harder, the press or the train?” Magne cackles, and Dabi snorts. “She looks like roadkill –”

“Don’t be dumb,” Toga says to Magne. “She’s got blood all over her. It’s cute! And she let us go at Kamino because she loves Tomura-kun.”

“Oh, right.” Magne nods. Dabi’s still snickering. “The train isn’t half as cute as the boss is!”

Dabi’s snickering gets worse, and Twice is guffawing in the background. Shigaraki yanks the remote out of Magne’s hand and turns up the volume on the TV to drown them out. “ – pleased to report a lack of severe injuries to the passengers, courtesy of the gradual stop achieved by what was first believed to be a civilian acting without authorization,” the newscaster is saying. They’re on the scene. There’s an ambulance in the background. “We’ve since confirmed that the individual responsible for the save is an off-duty hero by the name of Skynet. We have her right here –”

The camera zooms in on you, just in time for you to spit a mouthful of blood into the gutter. Magne was right – you look like shit – and Toga was right – you’re covered in blood. You’re not wearing your costume, and your clothes are pretty shredded. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and stand up straight, grimacing. Shigaraki’s taken his share of hits in battle before. He’s impressed against his will.

The interviewer is asking you a bunch of questions, and Shigaraki listens carefully. Now that he knows how powerful your quirk actually is, he needs as many clues as possible about how it works. He picks up things here and there, but he keeps getting distracted by you. By the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. By the big, bloody scrapes across your torso. By the way one of your shoulders is pretty obviously dislocated, and the fact that you’re standing there doing an interview when you should be getting help. Shigaraki doesn’t need to ask a stupid question about whether or not you’re okay. He knows you’re not. Why does he care?

Because you were off-duty. Because this wasn’t your job. Because you got in trouble for letting Shigaraki go at Kamino and still jumped onto the tracks to get dragged four hundred yards behind an out-of-control train. The heroic system is bullshit, and there’s nothing defensible about it, but that train probably had hundreds of people on it, and they’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Being a hero is idiotic at best. But if it’s possible to do an idiotic thing the right way, you’re doing it.

The interviewer is asking you why you stepped in when you weren’t on duty, and you’re getting pretty visibly annoyed. Spinner is the only person other than Shigaraki who’s still watching. “She’s underground, right?” he asks. Shigaraki nods without looking away from the screen. “She acts like a true hero. Stain would approve.”

Shigaraki doesn’t give a shit what the Hero Killer thinks about anything. But he has a really bad feeling that he’s starting to give a shit about you. What the hell is he supposed to do about it?

Turn you, obviously. The League could use a quirk like yours, and it would be a serious blow to hero society for an established hero to join forces with Shigaraki. You probably weren’t trying to get Shigaraki’s attention by stopping a speeding train, but you’ve got his attention now, for a good reason instead of a stupid one. The thought of your feelings for him is a lot less uncomfortable now that they’re something he can use.

Kurogiri gets back from the doctor with bad news – the doctor can’t help them right now, because they’re taking too much heat. It sounds like bullshit to Shigaraki, but he has something else on his mind. He talks to Kurogiri away from the others. “Find out where Skynet lives.”

Kurogiri looks surprised. “Why?”

“She’s stronger than I thought. We can use her.”

“I see,” Kurogiri says, but he’s giving Shigaraki a weird look. “Why do you need to know where she lives?”

“So I can let her know I’m interested,” Shigaraki says. Kurogiri’s expression doesn’t shift. “I don’t have to tell her what I’m interested in.”

Kurogiri’s still making a weird face. As much as Kurogiri can make any kind of face. “Right?” Shigaraki prompts, and Kurogiri nods. “Right. Once we know where she is, what should I do?”

“Something subtle,” Kurogiri suggests. “Consider it while I seek the information you requested.”

Something subtle. Easy enough. Shigaraki feels better about the whole thing than he has since he ran into you for the first time. You’re in love with him? That’s fine. If you love him so much, you can help him destroy the world.

[amostimprobabledream]

Tastes Like Pepsi Cola (Dazai Osamu x Reader)

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47860600 When Dazai texts, you go.

That's how it's always been, ever since you met him. With clever words and those beguiling looks of his, he wrapped you up in a web that was so deftly spun you didn't even realise you were in one until it was too late.

Occasionally you'd rebel, leave him on read, ignore the siren call of him, go on dates with other guys, but he always got his way eventually. And the sessions spent after you'd pulled away from him were all the more intense for your resistance, with him making you come over and over until his name was all you could say, rattling around in your brain, carved into every inch of your skull. You'd limp to work the next day with Dazai's teeth marks hidden under your clothing, lovebites all over your neck and breasts, handprints on your ass, thin nail marks on your back and thighs.

Sometimes it was worth it just to rile him up, put a healthy fear of losing your company into him.

If someone asked you to define what you and Dazai were, you'd struggle to define it. Fuck buddies? Lovers? Friends, even? He sure as shit wasn't your husband.

But whatever it was, it was addictive.

That night, when the text came from him, you threw on some clothes hastily - it didn't matter what you wore, really, since Dazai would be unwrapping you like a Christmas present. You did put on some of your nicer underwear, though - you loved the way his eyes lit up at the merest hint of lace or silk and it made you feel good. It didn’t take you long to get to where he lived – so convenient for him that the Armed Detective Agency was literally right around the corner, yet he always managed to be late for work. You shivered under your jacket as you mounted the steps leading to his front door, the night air cool and crisp.

He answered the door before you'd even had a chance to knock - almost like he'd been peering through the peephole, eagerly anticipating your arrival.

"Hello, sweetheart~" He purred, eyes dragging up and down your body.

"Somebody's eager-" you teased, but you barely had time to finish speaking before he pulled you in, hands gripping your hips and effortlessly tugging you over the threshold of his place. The door slammed shut behind you.

His mouth smothered you in kisses, hasty, almost sloppy in his urgency. Not that you minded - even when he wasn't putting in much effort into it, Dazai was a fantastic kisser. His lips were warm, and it only took a little coaxing before you opened your mouth for him, tongue slipping deftly inside. It used to be you didn’t like kissing with tongues, guys before you jamming it in there and scraping it against your teeth, but Dazai’s turned it into an art form. You tried not to think about how much practise he must have had to get that good.

His elegant, long-fingered hands wandered up and down your body, squeezing and caressing and you let out a breathy laugh as his hands ghosted across your stomach. He was fascinated by your ticklishness, had pinned you down and tickled until you'd cried with laughter before. Strong despite his lanky frame.

"Is anything wrong?" you asked, reluctant to kill the mood, but there was something about Dazai's urgency that was mildly alarming. He chuckled against your neck, hot breath washing over your skin.

"Everything's fine, baby." He replied in a sultry purr. And then he said, casual as you please: "I think you need to come sit on my face now."

What?!

You and Dazai had done plenty before, but this was a new one, plus the abruptness of his command took you aback. You stared at him, amazed he could still make you blush.

"What?" you said, mouth hanging open.

Dazai only smiled, tugging you after him into the bedroom. Your feet followed him automatically, heart hammering in your chest.

Of course. Being around Dazai was like a riptide - all you could do was go with the current. “You heard me.” He said, his voice slow and sweet as honey. “I want your thighs either side of my face, and I want to eat you out until you scream.” His crude words combined with his sultry tones were a two-pronged attack – designed to shock, to smash down any guarded or teasing from you might try to put up with the brutal efficiency of a wrecking ball, and enticing enough to draw you in, cleansing you of any knee-jerk embarrassment by reassuring you as bluntly as possible how much he wants this. Your faced flushed, but how could you say no? It wasn’t like Dazai wasn’t very well acquainted with every part of you and denying him things already took an enormous amount of willpower and resolve. Why play coy now? “All right,” you said, swallowing. “Um, we should probably get on the bed, right?” Dazai was all too happy to take the lead, flopping down onto his futon and leisurely arranging himself. You were slower to follow and began cautiously taking off your clothes, aware of Dazai’s hungry gaze on you, taking in each inch of flesh exposed to him like it’s the first time he’s seen it. He loved watching you strip, delighted each time by every curve of your body. Coming from someone with Dazai’s looks, it’s one hell of an ego trip to be so blatantly lusted over, even if it could be overwhelming. “So pretty,” Dazai hummed, words drifting over to you like music as you were down to your bra and panties. “Come here, bella.” You made your way over to him, pulse fluttering. He hadn’t even touched you yet, but your body was responding to his voice. You idly reflected he had you well-trained and you should probably be a bit more concerned about that, but it was hard to fret too much about it when Dazai’s dexterous hands grabbed you by the hips the minute you got close enough and tugged you onto the bed. “Look at you, all nervous.” He chuckled, in a teasing tone that bordered on condescending. “This is a pretty cute side to you, sweetheart.” “Shut up, Dazai.” You muttered, rolling your eyes, and he laughed and brought you down for another kiss. While he had you distracted, his fingers hooked in the sides of your underwear and worked them down your legs. You only noticed when he broke the kiss and suddenly found yourself completely exposed. How did he do that?! “Dazai-“ you said, but even as you spoke he was making short work of your bra too – it was just a comfy sports bra, you hadn’t seen the point in putting something with underwiring on when you’d only be wearing it from point A to B, yet you still felt a note of surprise when Dazai tossed it aside to join the underwear on the ground. “You’re stalling~” Dazai singsonged, his eyes glowing like amber as he smirked up at you, his hands sliding up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs skilfully caressing the nipples and they perk up under his ministrations. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and, with Dazai’s encouragement, straddled his pretty face. His hands gripped your thighs to steady you and you paused in an awkward crouch, your haunches already starting to burn. Idly, you reflected that this might make quite a handy workout for your glutes and thighs. You could feel Dazai’s hot breath on your cunt and you fidgeted. Well, this was awkward. “Um, so should I…?” you trailed off. “I don’t want to suffocate you.” “Didn’t you hear me?” Dazai asked, and you jolted at the tone of his voice. His playful chiding his evaporating and now there’s a clear note of command – you internally cursed yourself for finding it hot. “I said, sit down.” “But- “

"Fucking sit down." He growled, holding tightly to your hips. "If I die, I die happy." Oh, fuck me. Obeying him without thinking, you let yourself sink onto him and Dazai moaned as your soft thighs enveloped either side of his face. His hands gripped your flesh, holding you in place, and he got right to work. Your eyes popped open wide. Dazai eating you out was nothing new – he sometime would fling his arms around you, hugging your waist, and sink to his knees begging for a taste of you, like he’d just die if he couldn’t bury his head between your legs right then and there. He’d even used that silver tongue of his to persuade you to let him crawl under your desk at the Armed Detective Agency once or twice – the last time, Kunikida had come over to tell you that you’d dated a document incorrectly while Dazai was sucking your clit and you nearly had a heart attack over nearly getting caught. But that paled in comparison to this – Dazai lapping at your cunt like a man starved, his nose nudging against the front of your groin, wanton moans leaving his mouth, muffled by your flesh. A breathy sound that you’ve never made before left your mouth and your hands grabbed the headboard before you, and you clung to it like driftwood in a shipwreck. “Oh god…” you gasped. “Dazai-!” His tongue thrust into you, and he moaned loudly, your taste hitting him like the first drink on a hot day. It was like devouring a ripe peach and twice as sweet – he was a fan of bitter flavours usually, but the taste of you was enough to drive him into a frenzy. Combine that with your high, keening cries and the way your thighs squeezed his face, it was heaven. His cock was throbbing, straining against his boxers, but Dazai ignored that for now – nothing would distract him from gorging himself on your flavour. “Fuck!”

Your hips thrusted forwards, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding on him, chasing more of that sensation. You stopped, alarmed that you really might kill him if you keep that up, but Dazai’s palm cracked down firmly on where your thigh and ass meet and you yelped, but bucked forwards again, getting the message pretty clearly, no words needed. Dazai hummed in approval – you took direction so well – and his lips fastened around your clit and sucked, dragging it into his mouth and laving his tongue over it in a way he knew made you squeal. Your thighs clenched either side of him and Dazai keened in response. He wouldn’t stop until you came, until it flooded his mouth – your crotch was already slick with his saliva, but he wasn’t done yet. He playfully smacked your ass again, making you yelp and tug on his hair in retaliation, which sent a bolt of heat shooting down his spine – Dazai was well-versed in the interplay of pleasure and pain and liked springing it on you unexpectedly. Bolstered by his grunt, you did it again and if he could have smiled up at you just then, he would have. Alas, his mouth was thoroughly preoccupied. Little minx. He squeezed your ass enthusiastically as you ground down on his tongue, using the headboard as leverage to move your body up and down – you didn’t want to break his neck, no matter how much of a noble death Dazai would consider that, but fuck it felt good to be on top, demanding pleasure from his mouth and receiving it so enthusiastically. Heat pooled in your belly, spreading through you as the throbbing in your cunt grew more and more pronounced, like a second heartbeat. Dazai’s hands connecting with the flesh of your ass and thighs only encouraged it, little stings of pain serving as a deliciously contrasting sensation to the soaring electric pulse flowing through you. “Oh god, Dazai…just a bit more…” you burbled, nearly incoherent with pleasure, thighs trembling and your legs aching, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care at all, you just want to come. “Fuck, yes, just like that…” He used his tongue to thrust against your inner lips, growling wantonly as he did it, knowing you liked it when he got a little primal, a little feral, and his efforts were rewarded. That sweet, addictive flavour flooded Dazai’s mouth as you came, moans that were downright pornographic filling his bedroom, your voice rising to the ceiling like steam. “Nnn…Dazai-!” It took you a couple of seconds, with your orgasm flooding your brain, sending tingles shooting up and down your body, to remember where you were. When you did, you hurriedly shuffled back and Dazai’s face appeared beneath you, his mouth still shiny. He wiped it on the back of his wrist and smirked up at you. “Good job, baby. I told you you’d like it, didn’t I?” You laughed breathlessly, not sure why he was praising you when he did all the hard work. Still, you combed your fingers through his hair and Dazai leaned into your touch, like a cat, practically butting against your palm. “Yeah, that was…wow.” You said, feeling strangely shy, but Dazai’s smile was warm and reassuring. …That was all for two seconds, until he suddenly grabbed your sides and flipped you, squealing, so that you were on your back beneath him. You giggled wildly, staring up at Dazai as he looked down at you, and the way his pupils were black and shiny told you he hadn’t quite had his fill of you, not yet. “Hold back on the review for just a little longer, darling.” Dazai purred and, as you watched, mesmerised, slipped a thumb into the waistband of his boxers and began to slowly slide them down his hips. “There’s something else I’d like tonight…” ~ The next day, you sat at your desk. When you’d walked into the Armed Detective Agency that morning, it had proven rather tasking on your body – you were still a little knock-kneed from last night. Kunikida even asked you if you’d pulled a muscle. “Yes!” you say, pouncing on the ready-made excuse with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. “Yes, I-I was moving furniture. I guess I forgot to lift with my knees.” While Kunikida tutted over your shoddy technique and reminded you that if you suddenly had the inexplicable urge to decorate your living room, Kenji would only be too happy to do all the heavy lifting, Ranpo glanced up from his desk. He had his feet kicked up like he was on holiday, a lollipop wedged in his mouth. When Kunikida went to go look for Dazai, who had yet to arrive at work, Ranpo sent you a knowing smirk that made you blush. Don’t tell me he knows! When you sat at your own desk, setting down your morning can of Coke and agitatedly rubbing your lips together, you felt reasonably confident you’d managed to get away with your lie. That was until Ranpo’s teasing lilt floated over to you. “I guess Dazai skipped breakfast this morning, huh?” You glanced at Ranpo, trying to play it cool. “What do you mean?” you asked, and quickly regretted asking when Ranpo’s eyes opened, amused emerald green meeting your flushed face. “Because any breakfast isn’t going to compare…not when he had that kind of midnight snack.” “RANPO!”

[inmyicyworld]

Jersey

College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected.

Words count: 3.2k

Warnings: established relationships, SMUT, unprotected sex (but they’re both safe and clean), dirty talk, sex in the locker room, a lot of pet names, Bucky is needy and caring, he’s deeply in love.

Author’s note: hey everyone! thank you for your feedback on my last posts, it means a lot to me. so this is my first smut, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. (I became creative with that photo of the red jersey because I couldn’t find a perfect picture, so I edited it for like half an hour😭)

I have many ideas for my future works, but you have something interesting in mind, feel free to write me about it. Maybe I get some inspiration and create something🩷🦋

*English is not my first language. Sorry if you find any mistakes*

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

It’s been another game for the "Avengers", where your boyfriend Bucky Barnes was a quarterback. Today was one of the most important games against "Hydra" – their biggest enemy. Obviously, you couldn't miss the game, and Natasha, your best friend and roommate, will be with you as always. And right now, she has convinced you to do something that has been on your mind for a long time.

"C’mon, It’ll be fun. He’ll like it, I promise!" She said as you two stood near the place that made custom t-shirts with any prints. And at this moment, Natasha wanted you to order a jersey with Bucky’s number and his name on it.

"I don’t know, Nat. I mean, I want to do it, but what if he thinks that it’s too much?" You nervously played with the hem of your skirt.

"Now stop it." She stood before you and put her hand on her hips like a mother who was scolding her child. "You’ve been dating for more than a year, and his guy loves you so fucking much that he can’t even tear his eyes from you every time you two are in the same room. So when I tell you that he’ll love it, I mean it." You silently looked at her for a few minutes, but when she questionably raised her eyebrow, you finally gave up.

"Fine, you won. I hate you."

"I love you too, baby." Nat chuckled and dragged you to the store.

It seemed like there were thousands of people because everyone wanted to see one of the most important games of the season. People were already taking their seats, but you and Nat went straight to the locker room to wish the guys good luck. Trainer Fury was very strict about this, and it was forbidden for people not from the team to go there, but for some reason Nat always found a way to solve this problem.

"Guys!" Natasha loudly knocked at the door. "Are all of you already dressed up? I’m not in the mood to see somebody’s ass today!"

"Come in!" You heard Thor’s loud voice.

"Oh, I see our support group is here." As soon as you two walked in, Sam ended up between you and Nat and threw his hands over your shoulders, leading you deeper into the room. "Barnes will be here soon; don’t worry."

"Okay. Are you guys ready to beat their asses?" You smiled and looked at the almost entire team that had come to see you and Nat.

"Don’t worry, Sweets, we’ll win, as always." Tony answered you while he was cleaning his helmet. "But you should tell your boyfriend to stay away from Rumlow, or else he’ll be suspended again. By the way, is that jersey with his name?" You quietly nodded as the whole team made an impressive ‘woo’ together.

"You two are disgustingly sweet, you know that?" Sam rolled his eyes, and at the same time, the door slammed. "It’s him; go give him some kisses for luck."

"Shut up, Samuel." You laughed and left their little circle to find Bucky looking at his phone. "Don’t you want to say hi, James?" He moved his eyes to you, and his face immediately lit up with happiness.

"I just wanted to text you." He threw his phone on the bench and came closer to wrap his arms around you. "Hi, doll. I missed you so much today." He mumbled into your neck.

"I missed you too, Buck." You smiled when your heart filled with all the love you had for that man. "But wait, I have to show you something." You slipped out of his hands, excited and nervous at the same time. "Look what I’ve got!" You happily turned around to show Bucky your back and flipped your hair to the side so he could see everything better. "Do you like it?"

You had a big red jersey on you, to which Bucky didn't even pay attention at first. But when you turned around, his mouth went dry and his whole body became fuzzy. You had his number 17 and the word "Barnes" on your back. You were wearing his name.

For a few seconds, he was silent. He didn't answer your answer either, so with confusion written on your face, you faced him again, only to see a weird look on his face.

"What? You don't like it? Should I take this off? I'm sorry…" You started to apologize, only to be interrupted by his low voice.

"Don't you dare take this off, Y/N." He suddenly came closer to you again, and the next thing you knew, your back was slapped against the metal lockers when Bucky’s lips attacked you. He kissed you passionately and deeply, pressing his body against yours as if he was desperate to touch you and feel you closer. You couldn’t hold back the quiet moan that escaped your mouth when he tilted your head with his hand, helping his tongue slip into your mouth.

You thought that you heard the screams of the boys on the other side of the room, but they were really muffled when your head was filled with the thought of your boyfriend’s soft lips and warm skin. Bucky finally broke the kiss, leaving you two catching your breath while he put his forehead on yours and closed his eyes.

"You don’t understand what you’re doing to me. You look so fucking hot in this jersey, I want to fuck you right now." He whispered so only you could hear. "You made me hard, doll." To prove his words, he pushed his hips a little bit closer to you so you could feel the hardness.

"‘M sorry; I didn’t know that you would react like that."

"Hey, Buck, we should already go." Bucky’s grip on your waist became only tighter, when he heard Steve’s voice, and he nuzzled into your neck.

"Give me a minute."

"The game is gonna start soon."

"I said, give me a minute, Steve!" He said it louder. Bucky deeply inhaled, and it was obvious that he just needed some time to calm down.

"Shh, it’s okay, James." You put your hands through his hair because you knew that it would instantly relax him. "You're gonna win this game, right? And without fights." 

"I’ll do everything for you. I just love you so much, doll." He whispered into your neck when his body finally relaxed and he was able to move away from you.

"I love you too, James." He quickly kissed you again before turning around to face the team, who had knowing smirks on their faces.

"You two should get a room." Sam had an annoyed look on his face.

"Don’t worry, Birdbrain, we will. Are you ready for the game, or are you gonna stand here and complain all day?" Bucky winked at you and went out of the room without waiting for the answer from Sam.

"So…" Natasha suddenly appeared near you. "Did you make The White Wolf hard by just wearing a shirt with his name on it?" She grinned, as it was her original plan that worked.

"Oh, shut up!"

The game was tough. Hydra played dirty as always, and Bucky almost got into a fight with Rumlow during the intense moment. You almost jumped out of the seat during the last few minutes of the game, and when "Avengers" finally won, you and Natsha screamed at the top of your lungs.

As soon as the team was done cheering and hugging, Bucky looked at the seat where you were supposed to be but saw only Nat, who pointed at you already standing near the rim. He ran to you with the biggest smile on his face, and when he finally reached you, he crushed his lips into yours.

You didn’t care that many people looked at you, even though you knew that some particular groups of girls would gossip about it for the next week because… well, everyone wanted your boyfriend. You just wrapped your hands around his sweaty neck and pulled him closer to you as far as you could with a fence between you two.

"I’m so proud of you, baby." You whispered into his lips. "You were amazing as always."

"Thank you, doll. I'm happy that you’re here with me." He looked into your eyes as his right thumb rubbed your cheek.

"You know I couldn’t miss your game, especially if it’s that important."

"Mhm, can you… come to the locker room in like twenty minutes?" Bucky nervously licked his lips.

"To the locker room? I thought we were going to celebrate it with the team as always."

"Maybe later, but I’m thinking of something, so come, ‘kay?" He started to go back to the field, but not before giving you another sweet kiss on the lips.

You sat in the cafeteria for about twenty minutes, passionately waiting for the appropriate time to go to the locker room because you really didn’t want to see another naked man that wasn’t your boyfriend. One such experience was enough for you. You asked Nat to come with you, but when you repeated Bucky’s words to her, she just gave you a mysterious smirk and patted you on the shoulder, saying that you better go there alone.

When you finally got there and knocked on the door, you heard only Bucky’s voice, who told you to come in.

"James? What’s going on?" You asked as you came further into the room. It was empty except for Bucky, who came out of nowhere and locked the door. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer you; he just crossed the room, kissed you, and pushed your back into the metal lockers, just as he did it a few hours ago. He was greedy, passionate, and a little bit too rough, so you couldn’t keep the moan from escaping your mouth. Bucky’s hands squeezed your hips and then went higher under your jersey.

"Bucky…" You pulled away from the kiss, but he took advantage of it and started kissing your neck. Your eyes rolled back as you squeezed his shoulders and completely forgot everything you wanted to say. He sucked your soft skin into his mouth and even bit you. It was obvious that he desperately wanted to leave dark marks on your neck, but, honestly, you didn’t care. He smelled too good fresh out of the shower, with his bare chest and low-rise gray sweatpants, and his mouth… God, you knew what his mouth could do. "Baby, we can’t do it here."

"We can, and we will." He left your neck and looked at you, leaving only a few inches between your faces. "You can’t imagine how hard it was for me not to bend you over the closest surface when you showed me that fucking shirt. With my name on it? So everyone could see that you’re mine?" Bucky licked his already swollen lips. You pressed your thighs together, feeling how wet you were. He definitely felt that motion because his eyes became darker, and he looked like he was going to devour you at that same place.

"James…" You quietly whimpered, not being able to hold yourself anymore.

"Baby, fuck– doll, I love it when you call me that. You drive me insane." He decided not to lose any more time, so his hands went straight to the button of your jeans. He helped you get out of them, not losing a chance to touch your bare legs. "Now turn around, baby." You heard a deep moan, probably when he saw the back of the shirt again.

"Bucky, please." You whispered when you felt that more juices came out of you. You loved when your boyfriend became needy and possessive.

"Look at you, doll. You're already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet." He said that when he put his hand over your pussy, he probably felt the heat and pulse. "I would’ve eaten you out, but I need you too fucking much, so I promise to do it when we get to my place."

"O-okay, just do something, please." You pushed your ass back and heard a loud, deep moan as soon as you touched Bucky’s hard cock through his pants. You put your hands behind your back to try to push down his clothes, and at the same time, Bucky removed your black thongs.

You felt his hard cock on the bare skin of your ass, the tip already leaking with pre-cum. Bucky squeezed your ass with his hands and moved his hips. His perfectly shaped cock grinded against your wet folds, and you couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping your throat.

"Please, don’t tease me–" You didn’t even finish the sentence when Bucky moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. The mixture of pain and pleasure washed over you, and you didn’t even realize that you moaned too loudly. He was too perfect, filling you completely and stretching you around him in the most delicious way.

"Sh-h, sweetheart, you don’t want other people to hear you, right?" One of Bucky’s hands slipped under your shirt and laid on your stomach, and the other one covered your mouth, pulling you closer to his chest. "Good girl." He mumbled into your ear when you shook your head.

Bucky pulled away from you, still staying deep inside of your heat, letting you adjust to his size. He put one hand from your mouth on your back, which made you lean forward toward the lockers. The cold metal cooled your hot skin, but it still felt like you were burning inside.

Bucky finally started moving his hips, and the filling of his dick coming in and out of you made you almost faint. You two had sex a million times, but it still amazed you how full and satisfied he made you feel.

"That’s right, doll. You’re so greedy for my dick, huh?" He started to go faster, and you tried to move your body to his rhythm. "Was this your plan? Showing me that fucking jersey, so I could fuck you like a little slut you actually are?" His hand went over your back, tracing letters on your shirt with his fingers, and his motions became harder. In fact, it wasn’t your idea, but you should definitely thank Natasha because you really didn’t expect your boyfriend to become even more obsessed with you.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, and you clenched around Bucky’s cock, making him moan. "I feel how you’re clenching ‘round me. I know that you like it when I call you my slut. Only mine." 

"Yes, Bucky– James, please." A sudden slap on your right cheek pulled another moan out of you, and Bucky just chuckled, knowing that you’re always loud with him.

"Please what, baby?"

"Let me cum, please– James! I’m so close." You felt too overwhelmed with pleasure, not even realizing that you started crying when his fingers moved to your clit, drawing little circles there.

"Fuck, one day I’m gonna make you Mrs. Barnes, so you will have a well-damn reason to wear this shirt." He deeply chuckled, moving harder and harder into you. More nasty sounds of skin slapping into skin and your not-so-quiet moan filled the room. "Can you imagine that, baby? Being my cute little wife, who likes when I fuck the shit out of her? Poor doll, crying. Can’t even handle my cock deep inside your pussy, can’t you?" He moved even deeper into you, and that was it.

"God– James!" You slammed your hands on the metal near your face, trying to find something to hold onto, as the wave of heat and extreme pleasure covered your whole body and mind. Your legs trembled, and the only thing that kept you straight was Bucky’s strong hands. He felt that you were over the edge, that you couldn’t stand on your legs, and he definitely felt more juices coming out of you. He looked down and saw how his shiny cock was coming in and out of your pussy that was particularly choking him, and that sight threw him over the edge. With the last movement, he pulled your body into him, wrapping his hands around you and releasing his hot seed deep inside of you.

You both moaned at the feeling of you being so full of his cum that it had already started dripping down your thighs.

"That’s it, baby." Bucky whispered into your ear. "You did so well. Are you okay?" He left light kisses on your cheek.

It was too intense; not a single thought came to your head, and for a few seconds you tried to put yourself together.

"Mhm." It was the only thing that you were able to answer because your body was still trembling with the leftovers of your intense orgasm.

You two stayed in that position for a few minutes until Bucky realized that you had become too sleepy. He tried to pull out, but you grabbed his hand.

"‘M too sensitive." You almost cried.

"I know, sweetheart, but now I have to clean you and take you home." Bucky gently came out of you, and your body got goosebumps at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you. It took him all the strength not to shove it back into you with his fingers, but you were obviously too tired, and he couldn’t properly take care of you since you weren’t at his or your bedroom.

Bucky fell on his knees, quickly took a towel from his bag on the floor, and carefully cleaned the mess between your thighs. He reached for your panties, helped you put them back, leaving a soft kiss on your leg, and then helped you sit on the bench.

He looked at your sleepy and tired face while putting on his clothes.

"Hey, doll? You’re too quiet. Is everything okay? Was I too rough?"

"I’m ‘kay, it was just as intense as when you make me come many times in one night. Just help me with my jeans; I can’t feel my legs."

"Of course, sweetheart." He helped you with your pants and then fixed your messy hair. You couldn’t imagine how you must’ve looked right now. "I love you so much. Thank you for being here today. You’re truly the best thing that ever happened to me." Bucky kissed your forehead and wrapped his hands around your body, standing up with you.

"I love you too, Buck. So so much." You happily buried your face into his neck, knowing that your boyfriend was going to take care of everything.

He picked up his bag and keys for the locker room and came out of there. Bucky didn’t even close the door when he heard a familiar voice.

"Do not tell me that you two did what I think you did!" Sam was standing there a few steps away with disgust and shock on his face. "I didn’t expect that from you, Y/N/N." He joked.

"Sorry, Sam." You moved away from Bucky’s neck and tried to give Sam your best apologetic smile.

"Well, I’m not. Since you’re here, close the door, Birdbrain; we hurry."

Sam stood there for a few more moments after Bucky left with you in his arms.

He decided that the headphones that he left in the room could wait until another time.

[steviewashere]

Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Bitchy/Mean Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson (Both Briefly and For Good Reason) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Friendship, Eddie Munson Gets Put in His Place, Lucas Sinclair is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Protective Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Lucas Sinclair, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Means Well He's Just Defensive, Hurt People Hurt Others

This is chapter one, which also includes the first two pages that I already posted. Please keep your expectations low, as I'm still working on the second and final chapter.

Read on AO3

Read Chapter Two Read Chapter Three (Final)

🏀—————🏀 “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he’s been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.

“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.

“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”

Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”

For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.

“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.

There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.

“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.

Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.

“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.

Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.

Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.

After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.

“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas says, “and I know, I know, that Dustin and Mike tried everything in their power. And that Eddie was the one to, y’know, be the asshole. But I thought that maybe my friends would be on my side. That they’d skip the game, show Eddie up. Not get my little sister involved or have fun without me or…I don’t know.” And the way he says those last three words stings something acidic inside of Steve. Corrosion and battery acid hot and alive in his stomach. Anger reaching the surface of his skin, words crawling and resonating in his mouth. 

The doors to the school open distantly and Lucas suddenly perks back up, blossoming from where he was wilted against Steve’s car. “Doesn’t matter,” he chirps, though it’s all fake, “at least I can play with them now, which is awesome.”

But before he can stride away, to where his bike is parked and locked up, Steve snakes a hand onto Lucas’s wrist. They lock eyes again. “I’ll talk to him,” Steve swears, “he’ll apologize.”

“Steve, you don’t—“

“You used sports as a means to fit in, right? Granted, popularity’s not all that cool and you know that especially now. But it was a…a—“ He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “—A cover, something to find security in. And you had that. And that’s what the D&D game is to Eddie. Sports is my D&D, too.” He loosens his grip on Lucas’s arm. Neither make any sort of move. “Just because you were trying to find your people doesn’t mean you can be…” He chooses his next words carefully. “Ostracized or outcast by those who you found safety with before. Especially when those guys orbit around each other for the same reason. I’ll talk to him,” he urges, “and he will apologize, or else.”

Lucas gives him a softened look. “Thanks, Steve,” he mutters, “I wasn’t looking to start anything, but I appreciate you having my back. It really means a lot.” And then he shuffles away, towards his bicycle, small chat starting up with Mike and Dustin.

When Steve turns back towards the school, Eddie is sauntering towards him. Eyes wide. Smile big and easy. Yet, his soft features are all too nauseating to Steve’s chest right now. His heart aches. If Eddie thinks of Lucas’s interests that way, what does he think of mine?

He tamps down his annoyance and anger. Because Eddie takes his hand and is looking at him as if the world belongs to the two of them. But that hurt on Lucas’s face is like a dagger impaled in his brain when Eddie greets nice and low, “Hi, baby. Been thinking about you the entire time I was in there.”

Steve smiles, though it may come off as more of a grimace with how Eddie falters. “Been thinking about you, too,” he echoes. Though, thinking positively isn’t what he’s been doing, as far as anybody’s concerned. Beat around the bush, he tells himself. He takes a steadying breath, posture straightening, demeanor changing. Says with a sour tone, “I, uh, I think we need to have a little talk in the car, if that’s okay? It’s not a breakup thing, but it might make you…somebody might get mad and I don’t want to cage you in at my house.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. His eyes go distant very briefly. When he refocuses on Steve, something has hardened in his features. Steve’s throat goes tight. “It can’t wait until after our date night?” There’s a low amount of ire in his words already and Steve is momentarily caught in it. Until he lets his eyebrows scrunch down his face again, giving in to that tightness in his throat.

He sighs, annoyed already. “No, Eddie,” he bites without meaning to. “I need to talk to you now. I’m already upset about it and it’s not going to do me any good to just brush it off.” His hand releases from Eddie’s grip, falling heavy against his side. He turns towards his driver’s side door and stares back at where Eddie is rooted. “Come on,” he states lowly, “you were the one to tell me to talk about the shit that’s bothering me. Can’t ignore it just because it has to do with you.”

Bitchy is probably not the best approach to all of this, but Steve is already cornered out of options. He pulls his door open with more force than necessary. Slides into his seat, key into the ignition, and honks once at Eddie. Jarringly gestures at the passenger seat. Thankfully, there’s nobody else to witness the potential torrential fire that’s brewing in him. It’ll be just the two of them; though that realization stirs something sickly in Steve’s stomach.

Eddie gets in silently. Places his school bag in the footwell. And keeps his face pointed out the windshield. “What’s wrong?” He asks, though his voice is devoid and edging on irritated.

Steve rolls his eyes, though Eddie can’t see him. He sets his hands firmly on his steering wheel. Squeezes the leather for comfort, an instinct. And heaves a sigh, urging himself to be calmer about this. “I had a talk with Lucas,” he starts. “About, uh, about his championship game back in March.”

Next to him, Eddie immediately tenses.

He continues without acknowledgement. Keeps himself as leveled as possible. “He told me that you refused to move your game for his. That he was looking forward to having his friends, which I’m assuming includes you, watch him play. And I—I know how important that championship game was to him. Y’know, it’s one of the bigger—“

“Are you mad because I didn’t want to sit at some jock event?” Eddie interrupts, question clipped. Though there’s also mild amusement in his tone, as if Steve being upset is poposterous. He continues without any regard for Steve. “In a room full of, mind you, people who hate me?”

Steve tenses more than Eddie had. His shoulders hiking and his stomach knotting impossibly more. Finally lets the dog bark, gives in to whatever it wants. “You know what, Eddie?” He bitches back. “I am mad at you. In fact, I…I…I’m so fucking angry that you…you make this whole deal about ‘lost sheep’ and herding them in to play your game. You concern yourself with making a community for people who are lost to the crowd of cliques in that school. And it’s just—Lucas is one of those kids! He is, even if that means he wants to play basketball!”

The passenger seat squeaks. Clothes rustling as Eddie turns toward him. But Steve doesn’t rip his eyes from the windshield. If anything, he leans more towards the left, creating a deeper, larger space between them. His hands instinctively tighten on the steering wheel again.

“Yeah, I do pride myself on that,” Eddie spits. “I do. Which is why, honestly, it irks me that Lucas would pick a crowd full of assholes. A bunch of people who would never give him the time of day.”

Steve goes rigid at that. He was an asshole, too. He knows that. Eddie especially knows that. The Munson Doctrine wouldn’t exist without the inclusion of asshole jocks, Steve being near the top of the list. He tries to tell himself that Eddie doesn’t think of him that way, but it’s hard considering himself. Who he used to be. Instead, he takes another breath, this one longer and hopefully more steadying than the other ones have been.

“He went out for basketball for a sense of security,” Steve states slowly, verging on impatient. “To find somewhere to belong to. That’s all a freshman looks for—a group to be somebody with. And, you know, considering that he’s already sort of singled out for being one of a few black kids at the school…Belonging is kind of important to him.” He settles back into his seat, arms still stretched to their full length in front of him. His stomach is turning and his heart is racing. And why won’t Eddie just get this? “Even if the basketball team has a bunch of assholes, he still wanted to do it. He was celebrated for his skills, who he is—even if it was for a moment. Playing was, and probably still is, important to him. And you—“ Steve finally turns his head towards Eddie. Knows his eyes are shooting daggers, can see where they lodge themselves between Eddie’s ribs. He raises a finger and accuses, “—you made his game feel unimportant. None of his best friends came because they were toopreoccupied with your game.” His face grows unusually hot as his voice drags passionately. The words just tumbling, splattering between them. But he carries on like a fire fed, “They even got his little sister to play yourgame. And, you know what really hurt to hear? Lucas wanted at least Erica to watch. And she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there because of your game, Eddie. How do you think that looks to him?”

Eddie has the audacity to look cowed, appalled. His mouth agape and his eyes as two large craters on his face. And for the first time, probably ever, he is stunned into silence.

Steve looks away. Bitter. All that festers in him now is hurt, ache, sadness. He chews on his lip, inhales softly through his nose, and opens his mouth with a silent word. Finally, he murmurs, “When I came to the high school as a freshman, I did the exact same thing as Lucas did. I joined the basketball team. Not because I was good. Or because my dad forced me to, like everybody seems to think. It’s because I wanted to fit in.”

His eyes are stinging. Cheeks flushing even more with overwhelming, consuming emotion. Continues, “And, though I let the feeling eat away at me, it felt good to be protected by a camaraderie like that. Outside of the nerdy friend group I had in middle school, going into high school. It felt good. And—It’s not the same as why Lucas joined, I know that, but I can understand.

“On top of that, I never had friends or family members show up for me at my games. So, for me to know the hurt Lucas feels, that would be an understatement. What’s important to note, though, is that he had people in his life to be there for him and they didn’t show. They didn’t.”

The fight is draining out of him, but he has to solidify his point. Has to finish this or else. Thinks briefly that maybe he should quit while he’s ahead, but he can’t make himself do that. The ferocity engulfing him from the inside out all too much to ignore. He’s been beaten down before for Lucas, literally—oh so literally—but he’d do it again and again and again for that kid to find his footing. Including this…spat? One sided argument? This argument with his boyfriend. 

“Even I was there,” he says, hollowly, “cheering him on. It just would’ve been nice, for him, to have more than just some washed up, ex-jock, nobody be there. Right? I’m sure you get where I’m coming from. You can understand what I’m saying.” He glances forlorn out his window. Can’t even muster the courage to look over at Eddie. He’s basically drained himself. Being vulnerable isn’t his forte, but he can be for the people around him. Even if it’s at the expense of his own well being. “Well, I thought you’d understand. Wanting to have a community, people to lean on, to make something of yourself. No matter the means. I just didn’t think you’d be part of the reason that Lucas feels so…so singular.”

He takes a deep breath, ignoring how nasally it is to his ears. And mutters, a final thing, “I didn’t think you viewed something that Lucas and I are into as so…nothing. I try my best to be better about what you like, but it seems that you don’t make that same effort. That’s not fair, Eddie. You should know that.”

Without much else to say and with Eddie’s eerie silence, he starts the car. Puts it into drive. And peels away into the silence of the long and stretching road.

Briefly, he thinks about turning on the radio or cranking down the window, but the air is too thick to move through. Even the slight turns of his steering wheel is enough to make him feel sick. He’s sick with how disgustingly to-the-point he had to be. Though, there’s no other way that Eddie would’ve listened. Not with how defensive he immediately got.

The original date night plan had been to go to his house, but he finds himself pulling into Forest Hills’ driveway. Past the dimly lit trailers and the striking quietness of Max’s home. He parks in the vacant spot next to Eddie’s van. Which, the van is broken down right now—the main reason Steve is even driving Eddie around. But, now what? Is Eddie mad at how mad Steve was? Is he going to realize that he doesn’t like Steve because of his interests, who he is? Is this it?

A gentle anxious thrum runs through Steve like the very blood he needs to exist.

He silences the car. And just sits with his hands in his lap. Looking blankly at Eddie’s front door.

“Your stop,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs heavily through his nose. But he doesn’t make a move to open his door. To step out. To walk away from…all that Steve is and has been.

Steve turns to him, gestures loosely at the Munson’s. “Your stop,” he reiterates.

“I—“ Eddie musters, voice croaking and rough. “I didn’t realize that…I didn’t know Lucas was mad about that. I didn’t think it…mattered.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Steve bitterly states, “It’s not like you actually cared.”

“But I do,” Eddie insists, “I care so much about Lucas. And I care so much about you. I swear!” He finally moves, tossing himself in the seat to face Steve, flailing. His face a mournful thing, downturned and sad. Skin pale and his hands desperate and his voice urgent. “There’s no excuse, I know. But I just…The reason I look at jocks so awfully is because they’ve always turned on me, you know? They always downplay my interests and mock me and tease me for what I like. Which is why I have to show myself as the bigger guy, that I can take it. I just didn’t realize that I was doing it, too.”

Slowly, Steve crosses his arms over his chest. Fingers tightening over his biceps. “Real life and your friends are more important than biases, Eddie.”

“I see that now.”

“And I think that you…you love me? And that you like Lucas. But it’s just hard to feel that, for either of us, when you adamantly refuse to involve yourself in our interests. Even if it means attending some jock event. Even if it means sitting in a room full of people that hate you. Which, by the way, that isn’t true because Lucas and I both like you—I love you, even.” He faces Eddie again. His face a sure thing of great ache, based on Eddie’s own crestfallen eyes. “Maybe just…give us space for a couple days? Think about this. Apologize once you’ve given it some thought. I understand where the whole hating jocks thing comes from, but just think about how that hurts, too.”

Eddie takes a gasping breath. “But I’m sorry now, Stevie,” he swears, “I am. I’m so sorry.”

There’s part of those words that soothe Steve like aloe to a sunburn, but he can’t accept them. Knows that the sure sting of the burn will still be there if he lets Eddie do this now. So he collects himself, mulls the words, and defends himself—for once. “I’ll accept that when it doesn’t feel like you’re saying it just to make me feel better. I want you to mean it. And I want you to apologize to Lucas first.”

He watches Eddie nod fervently, sharply. His hands twisting together in his lap and his eyes wetting, shoved harshly to the side. “Yeah, okay,” his voice trembles, “okay, I’ll fix this.”

Carefully, Steve takes Eddie’s hands. Tugs them until Eddie looks at him. Involuntarily, he makes a soft, sympathetic noise. It’s clear in the wetness of Eddie���s eyes that he’s determined to change this, to make this better. It’s clear that he didn’t mean to hurt this severely. He presses deep into the back of Eddie’s hands, tethering himself down to the earth, away from the cloud of anger that threatens to swallow him whole. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, “listen to me, baby. I know that you’re sorry. I know, okay? But Lucas won’t know that, he’ll probably think you’re saying it to get on his good side. And…maybe you are, a bit, but it’ll be better if you really mean it. Trust me.” He swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s knuckles, massages them to ease the tension. “I still love you. I’m still learning, too, to love your interests with my full heart. And I know that it’s hard to let go of stupid biases, but you’ll be better for it. You will, Eds, and you’ll find you actually feel good.” Steve runs his hands up Eddie’s arms, to his shoulders, the sides of his neck.

Gently, he cups Eddie’s face between his hands. Presses his thumbs underneath Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie softens, loosening. Breathes slowly onto Steve’s wrists. “I’ll make this right, Steve,” he promises quietly, “I want to love both of you guys right.”

“I believe you,” he whispers in turn, “you’re a good guy, Eddie. You’ve got a good soul and a good heart. But you just need to relearn some things, baby.” He leans in, softly pecks the soft tissue of Eddie’s facial scar, and pulls away. Reaches up and runs a hand through the wiry ends of Eddie’s curls. Finds that he does mean the softness in his words, even with the bitter edge in his chest. He murmurs, “Let’s cool off tonight, because I know we’re both upset. And we’ll reconvene in a couple days, after my shift. I’ll help you come up with a good apology, promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie mutters, sniffling.

“I love you,” he feels the need to remind.

“I love you, too, Stevie. And I mean that. I really do.”

🏀—————🏀

Taglist (Open For Chapter Two): @wonderland-girl143-blog @tinyplanet95 @sharingisntkaren @ghostquer @practicallybegging @croatoan-like-its-hot @reinedslys-central

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin || Chapter 20A: I Don’t Need Nothing When I’m By Your Side || Chapter 20B: I’m Walkin’ Down This Rocky Road || Chapter 20C: You’re The Only One Who Gets Through To Me || Chapter 20D: Together We Can Make It A Dream || Chapter 20E: My Main Objective Is To Get You To Turn Your Mind Around ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20F: Heaven Isn't Too Far Away

I don't need to be a superman

As long as you will always be my biggest fan…

 -- “Heaven,” Warrant (1989) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || March 1989

“I’m sorry that I’ll miss you in L.A., but I’m really glad you’re going out there. for the rehearsals. Especially since you won’t be making it to Europe.”

Jenny Fraser Murray sighed into the phone. “I’m torn, Claire. On the one hand I’ll be so happy to have a few days away from the kids – Ian’s mom is a godsend. But on the other hand I don’t want to be away from them for even a minute.”

“Ian will be happy to have you to himself, though.”

Claire heard Jenny smile through the phone. “He said it will be like old times. When we were dating, and we’d sneak off behind the amps to make out before a gig.” She paused. “Something you and my brother probably do all the time now.”

Claire smiled. “When we’re together, yeah.”

“I was really surprised when Jamie told me you weren’t going out to L.A. Is this the longest you’ve been apart?”

“Yeah.” Claire twirled the long telephone cord around her wrist. “I’m not going to lie, Jenny, it’s been incredibly hard to be away from him for so long. But at the same time, it’s been really helpful.”

“How so?”

“Just…it gets intense with him. And as much as I love him, and as much as I know he loves me, we both needed the time to breathe.”

“I hear you. So what have you been up to this week?”

Claire leaned back in her chair. “There’s a clinic in town – I got in touch with them right after we moved in, and I’ve been going in every day to volunteer. Just a few hours, helping out with some of the walk-in patients. Cuts, burns, broken bones – lighter stuff.”

“Sorry. One sec.” Jenny’s voice was muffled over the phone, but Claire could still understand the words Maggie and share and your brother. Clearly the Murray kids were giving their mom a run for her money today.

“That sounds like fun, Claire. Or your idea of fun, anyway.”

“It feels so good to be a doctor again, Jenny. It’s a far cry from surgery, but – ”

“But it’s something. Something you’re good at, that you enjoy. And it’s something that’s all yours.”

“Exactly. When we get back from Europe, I want to do something more permanent at the clinic. I spoke to the woman who runs it – they’re definitely open to it. I told them everything about my past, and my license – they’re willing to work with me.”

“That’s awesome.” The line clicked. “Ah – Claire, I’ve been waiting for Ian all morning. This is probably him. I’ll call you later, OK?”

“OK. Say hello to him and the kids for me. Talk you soon.”

“Take care of yourself, sister.”

Jenny hung up.

Claire glowed a bit. Glanced up at the clock on the wall, and crossed the kitchen to make some tea.

Ten minutes later, snug on the couch that was one of the only pieces of furniture Jamie had shipped from his old house in LA, Claire dialed a 212 number on the touch-tone phone, set the receiver on the arm of the couch, and pressed the speakerphone button.

“Dr. Germain’s office. Jeanne speaking.”

“Hi Jeanne – it’s Claire.”

“Hello, Claire! Right on time, as always. I’ll transfer you over.”

A few clicks on the line, and then –

“Good afternoon, Claire!” Raymond’s voice boomed through the telephone. “Did you make it to the clinic after we spoke this morning?”

“I did!” She sipped her tea, tucking bare feet under her folded legs. “Three hours have never flown by so fast.”

“That’s wonderful. Are you still open to what I suggested in our session this morning?”

“I am. He’s not on yet, is he?”

This was the second week that Jamie, Claire, and Raymond had held their daily sessions – via telephone while Claire was home in North Carolina, Jamie was with the band in Los Angeles, and Raymond at his office in New York. Raymond had recommended they start meeting during Jamie and Claire’s time away from each other – and to help them all get comfortable working together before the Europe tour kicked off in a few weeks.

Speaking over the telephone was not as ideal as being in person – but it helped them all get into the new routine. Raymond met individually with Jamie and Claire each morning, followed by a group session in the afternoon. Claire and Jamie spoke with each other outside of their time with Raymond, of course – Claire called Jamie’s hotel room as his wake up call every morning, he spoke with her before bed every night – but the conversations with Raymond were different. Focusing on topics that were deeper than Jamie telling Claire about rehearsals or meetings with the label, and Claire telling Jamie about a patient’s antics at the clinic or how she had finally gotten around to staining the bedside table they’d picked up at a garage sale.

Raymond had approached working together in a very pragmatic way. He struck a balance between getting to know one another and probing deeper on certain topics – after all, there were many things that Jamie and Claire still didn’t know about each other. But there was no timetable – Raymond insisted they work at their own pace, because the real work would happen once they were in Europe.

Claire and Jamie actually looked forward to their time with Raymond. It helped them focus on themselves, and on each other, in a new and refreshing way. It bridged the thousands of miles between them, during their time away from each other. And having that separation – together with the telephone, and not needing to look at each other to speak – was indeed a good opportunity to explore some topics.

“I’m here. Hi, Claire.”

“Jamie,” she smiled. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the label’s office. Colum dragged me here to meet with the suits. I said yes, as long as I could get lunch delivered and an office for an hour. So excuse me if you hear some chewing.”

“What’s for lunch?” Raymond’s voice crackled through the line.

“In-N-Out. My favorite, a double double with a chocolate shake. Claire, the more I’m here, the more I don’t miss being in L.A. But this…this I miss.”

“Well, as your doctor,” she teased, “I’m also grateful for your arteries that we don’t eat that kind of food at home.”

Jamie snorted. “So what did you do at the clinic today?”

“Splinted a broken thumb and stitched up a gash on a little boy’s head.”

“You sound like you’re smiling. I love that it makes you happy, but I’ll never understand why.”

“If I may,” Raymond interjected, “there’s a little more to it than making Claire happy. She and I explored that this morning.”

“Yeah.” Claire sipped her tea. “You’re right, Jamie – it does make me happy. It makes me happy because I enjoy doing it. But more than that, it gives me a sense of purpose. I’m helping people, I’m making a difference.”

“And?” Raymond prodded gently.

Claire pursed her lips. “And, it’s something that’s only mine.”

The line was silent for a long moment.

“Jamie?” she asked gently.

“You mean, something that’s separate from our life together, Claire?”

“Jamie,” Raymond responded, “if you’re thinking that this is something meant to replace you, or any aspect of your relationship…trust me when I say it’s not. When Claire and I spoke about this earlier today, she made it clear that that’s certainly not the case. It’s a way for her to build her own identity, as Dr. Claire Fraser. Because she’s left behind who Dr. Claire Beauchamp was – the surgeon and pill addict. And she’s also built an identity as Claire Fraser – wife to Jamie Fraser.”

“And I love being Claire Fraser, Jamie. I do. God, I wish I could hold your hand right now.” She sighed. “But I need to find out who Dr. Claire Fraser is. In my time at the clinic, I’ve started doing that. And I’m still tied to you. I wear your letter and your ring on my hand, and your name on my driver’s license and my heart. This is…just…more than all of that. There’s room for more.”

Still Jamie remained silent. Claire’s heart began to race.

But Raymond let the silence stretch.

“Jamie…” he finally interjected after a while. “Do you want Claire to keep exploring this side of who she is? Who she could be?”

“Of course,” Jamie replied instantly. “I want nothing more than for Claire to be happy, and for her to be who she’s meant to be. She’s meant to be a doctor. She’s known that since she was a little girl, and that’s so awesome she knows that about herself. I still don’t know who I want to be.” He paused, chewing. “And I know that she’s also meant to be with me, to be my wife. That’s another part of who she is. Am I right, Claire? I’m not off base?”

“You’re right,” she said softly.

“OK. So – I know that she’s a doctor, and she’s my wife. I also know that there’s a huge part of her, that she hasn’t been able to grow for the entire time we’ve known each other. We’ve focused so much on our…our love, and our sobriety, and my music. But now I see that that’s been at the expense of other things. Like, her being a doctor. And I honestly feel kind of terrible that while I’ve been recording new music and touring and performing and dealing with my own shit, that’s all taken over and hasn’t given her the space to explore and grow.”

“That’s one way to look at it, Jamie.” Raymond’s voice was so focused, and Claire pictured him scribbling in his notebook. “But you can’t beat yourself up over it. Does what Jamie said, resonate with you, Claire?”

She rested her head on her arms, folded on the arm of the couch. “It does and it doesn’t, Raymond. Yes, I stepped away from medicine while I was getting clean, and then it was more important to me to figure out how to be with Jamie, and then get used to life on the road, and focus on my marriage. So I decided to push medicine to the background. To support Jamie in the way he needed, the last tour. I made that choice. Jamie didn’t force it on me – I would have said something if it wasn’t what I wanted. And now, I’m choosing to grow this side of myself again.”

“I don’t ever want you to think that I don’t support anything you want to do, Claire,” Jamie said softly.

“I don’t ever even think of that, Jamie. And if I did, I’d tell you.”

“I hope you would. I wouldn’t ever want that to be a misunderstanding between us. I will support whatever you want to do, you know that, right?”

“That’s a good segue way,” Raymond spoke softly.

Claire cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re with Colum today, Jamie, because I’d like you to ask him something for me, for the tour.”

“Okay…he already agreed to have a doctor on standby, you know. If we get pregnant.”

“I know. I love that you did that for us, Jamie. But this is something new. When we’re in Europe, I’d like to find a way to volunteer at local clinics wherever we are. To spend time doing that in every city. I know that it won’t always be possible, of course – but I want to give back, when I’m on the road. I don’t want to just stop when we leave North Carolina – I want to keep going. I want to keep exploring this side of myself. And I know that everywhere we go, there will be people who need my help.”

“I would love for you to do that, Claire.” She could see him grinning. “God I wish I could hold you right now, so tight. I want you to do this. This is fucking awesome.”

She swallowed. “I miss you so much, Jamie. I love you, and I love being with you, and I can’t wait to be with you on tour. But I need to have something consistent that’s my own. I can’t be with you all of the time. And this helps me to do that.”

“Fuck yeah. I want this for you. Think of how cool it will be.”

“Yeah!” she grinned ear to ear. “And even if I’m pregnant, I can still do it. For a time, anyway.”

“I’ll speak to Colum about it today. The label or the local promoters have got to have connections. And I don’t want there to be any publicity. I don’t want people to think you’re doing this for the PR.”

“And you’d be OK, Jamie, with Claire being away from you during the day?”

“Yeah, Doc. Um…being here in LA without her, I’m more comfortable saying that now.”

“Versus before you left?”

“Yeah. I – Claire, I love you so much, but we were spending too much time together. It was…suffocating.” He paused, clearly uncomfortable with silence on the line. “Baby, talk to me. Fuck, I hate that I can’t see you. Talk to me. Does that make sense to you, what I said?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I get it, Jamie. I love you so much. I want to be with you all the time, but it’s not healthy.”

“Raymond, does that make sense?” Jamie’s voice was rushed, almost panicked. “Am I making sense? That I want to be with Claire all the time but I know that’s not a good thing?”

“It does, Jamie, and you are. You didn’t mention this to me before – is this something you’re only realizing now, in this conversation?”

“Umm…yes and no. I mean, I miss Claire so much right now that it actually hurts. But it’s been so fucking great to be here with the band. Angus’ girlfriends are out of town, so we’ve been spending a lot of time together, just me and Ian and Angus. And Colum, too. It’s been so much fun. I’ve been so busy. Almost too busy to think of anything else.”

“So – those fears we talked about during my visit. That without Claire beside you, you’d somehow fall back into addiction. That you needed her as your anchor, your constant reminder to stay sober. Do you still feel that way?”

“A little bit. But it’s not a big fear front and center every moment of the day. I mean, it sucks to come back to an empty hotel room, and it’s hard for me to sleep alone, but I know that’s temporary. And, I know that on the Europe tour I’ll be very busy during the day, probably more than I was the last tour. So even if Claire was with me all those hours, it’s not like I could really do anything with her during that time. I’ll be busy, and it’s not fair to her to just sit around without me. She can use that time more productively. Like volunteering at local clinics.”

“Good. I know that it was really difficult for you to fly out there on your own, and I’m glad you called me before you left for the trip, too, because I think we’ll all agree that you staved off a panic attack by doing that. But now that you’re there, do you understand why I had recommended you spend some time apart?”

“Yeah. Claire, did you understand from the beginning?”

“I did. But that doesn’t matter, Jamie. What matters now is that you understand. And that we have a new plan for Europe.”

“I love you so fucking much, Claire. I need you, baby. I can’t wait to see you again.”

She blew a kiss through the phone.

Jamie coughed. “Um, Claire? I need to tell you something.”

“Are you all right?” Raymond cautiously asked, after about thirty seconds of silence on the line.

“Um…yeah. I got another tattoo.”

“O..kay…” Claire replied.

“Was this planned, or impulse?” Raymond asked gently.

“Um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I knew what I wanted, but I decided a bit last minute.”

“I see.” Claire spoke slowly. “What is it, and where is it?”

“It’s the outline of the state of North Carolina. On my left arm.”

Claire couldn’t help but smile. “Where? In that space between the koi fish and your mom’s name?”

Raymond chuckled. “The two of you, I swear.”

Jamie laughed. Free. “Yeah, Claire. I don’t even want to know how you guessed that.”

“What can I say,” she laughed. “The perks of being a rock star’s personal physician.”