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pickingupmymercedes · 7 months ago

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My Venus - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

A MET Gala Special

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Famous!Reader

warnings: fashion world, sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Wrap it before you tap it!!!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: I know it's impossible for anyone to wear the original Venus Dior dress, it's a museum piece and it has been for decades, but it's a fic (and my favorite dress, ever) so let's go with it. Y/n is obviously someone really known in the fashion industry, but I didn't specify how, so it's totally up to you to create a back story.

a/n 2: Kind of a request. I was planning something already but anon gave me amazing ideas, thank horny anon!! Also, smut with a plot, what a shocker for me!!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

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Y/n toyed with a stray piece of croissant, her gaze flitting from the cityscape outside to Lewis, who was deep in conversation with his stylist.

Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows on the opulent The Mark Hotel’s suite, a golden glow on the remnants of their breakfast. Crumbs danced on the crisp white tablecloth, a playful counterpoint to the elegant silver service glinting in the corner.

Eric, a man perpetually poised on the precipice of tranquility, leaned forward trying the nonchalantly posture as his eyes danced with curiosity. "Come on, Y/n, spill the beans! We’re all vibrating with suppressed curiosity."

Lewis, in is crisp white tee and black joggers, shot Eric a playful glare. "Thanks for that, mate. Subtlety is your strong suit, clearly." He turned to Y/n, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, love. The MET is in a few hours, you can tell us."

Y/n, who had mastered her poker face over the last five months of keeping that secret, took a delicate sip of her orange juice. "Let's just say," she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, "it has a very famous sister."

Eric groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, delightful. Lewis, bro, you're on your own with this one."

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "You're a menace, Y/n." He winked, a shiver running down her spine despite the playful nature of the exchange. But the silence that followed held a different energy, charged with unspoken anticipation.

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s something that is going to steal everyone breath away, so maybe it needs a security detail of its own?"

Y/n couldn't help but let a sly smile curve her lips. "Maybe." she teased, leaning in even closer. The scent of his signature cologne, a heady mix of wood and spice, filled her senses. "Maybe it'll have everyone whispering about who dared to wear such a legend."

A low rumble escaped Lewis' chest, a sound that sent a jolt of excitement through her. " An archive, huh?! " He said, his voice husky

Just then, Eric cleared his throat pointedly. "Right, right, all very hush-hush. But remember, Lewis, you have your Burberry fitting this afternoon. We can't have you looking too shabby next to your mystery woman in archives."

Y/n laughed, a light, tinkling sound that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure Lewis will manage to steal the spotlight anyway."

Lewis winked again, his gaze lingering on her lips. "A competition, isn't it, love?"

Their playful sparring continued through the rest of the lunch, a delicious undercurrent of unspoken attraction running through their every word and glance. As they finished their coffee, the tension in the air thickened, a silent question hanging between them. It was time to leave, to face the world – and the MET Gala – separately.

But Lewis wouldn't let her go without a final flourish. He stood, his gaze holding hers, and offered a hand with a courtly bow. "Until tonight, my fashionista. May the best dresser win."

_______________________________________________________________

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/n stepped out of the limousine, a vision as the cameras flashed like a sudden storm, capturing the first glimpse of her enigmatic beauty. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a palpable wave of awe and recognition as Y/n slowly revealed the legendary Venus dress.

Time seemed to slow. Each step on the red carpet was a carefully choreographed performance, the weight of fashion history settling on her body like a luxurious cloak.

The gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, whispered tales of a bygone era, its every fold a testament to the genius of Christian Dior himself. It clung to her like it had been designed for her. A silent promise of a woman both powerful and breathtakingly beautiful.

Y/n held her head high, a serene and honest smile playing on her lips. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a thrill coursed through her veins. This wasn't just another red carpet.

Lewis, waiting further down the carpet, watched his breath hitch as she came into view. Initially stunned speechless, his jaw dropped in a way that sent the internet into a frenzy.

Here was the woman he knew, the one who matched his every playful jab with witty retorts, transformed into a goddess. He felt a surge of pride, a possessiveness that went beyond what he had felt before with people looking at her.

This was Y/n, his Y/n, stealing the spotlight of the most known fashion event with an audacity as breathtaking as the gown itself.

It was a declaration, a playful rebellion against expectations, most of them that she had created for herself, as she had stablished her style as the non conformative. Still, in The Garden of Time that was the MET, she was bringing one the most known and iconic flowers back to life.

Microphones were being thrusted in her face, a flurry of questions buzzed around her like excited bees, photographers going maniac at the sight of a dress that had been at an exposition for decades months prior being worn.

"Y/n, this is absolutely iconic! How did you manage to borrow this historical piece?" a seasoned entertainment reporter gushed.

Y/n, ever the diplomat, offered a practiced smile. "Let's just say it took a lot of convincing," she replied, the truth a delightful secret she'd keep to herself. "But I believe it was worth the effort."

"Do you feel any pressure wearing such a significant piece of fashion history?" another reporter chimed in.

An understanding glint sparked in Y/n's eyes. "It's a tremendous honour. But pressure is a luxury I don't have time for tonight. It's all about celebrating art, fashion and Christian Dior himself.” Her wit drew laughter and appreciative nods from the crowd, creating a true vision of a woman stunning and intelligent, truly worthy of the Venus.

As Lewis answered his own fielding questions about his Burberry ensemble, he couldn't help but steal glances at her. Her confidence radiated outwards, a magnetic force that drew everyone's attention. He felt a flicker of pride, ever so slightly tinged with a possessiveness that made him want to shout to the world, 'This is my woman.'

"Lewis," a young reporter, eyes wide with admiration, interjected, "What are your thoughts on Y/n's stunning outfit?"

Lewis, ever the charmer, took a playful dig. "Well, let's just say" he drawled, mirroring her earlier cryptic response, "It was worthy of the months of secrecy. She awed everyone as much as she awes me."

As Y/n went up the stairs she found Lewis at the entrance waiting for her, his eyes boring wholes onto her skin. Lewis leaned close, a hand reaching for hers as his voice a huskily murmured "You're incredible, Y/n," his eyes lingering on her "Absolutely breathtaking, love."

Y/n, feeling the warmth of his gaze on her exposed skin, a secret smile played on her lips. There was a thrill in knowing she had surprised him, in seeing the awe and possessiveness flicker in his eyes.

"You know …” she teased, resting her hands on his shoulders as he reached for her waist, a sequence of flashes going off as they showed affection "This was all about making a statement”.

The throng of bodies inside the museum buzzed with an electric energy. As they navigated the crowded halls, Y/n couldn't help but notice the way heads turned their way. Whispers and glances followed them like a second skin.

Lewis, sensing her amusement, leaned in with a smirk. "Enjoying the attention, love?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n deadpanned, batting her eyelashes playfully. "It's not every day I get to feel like a museum exhibit myself."

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, you are a work of art yourself. But you’re also wearing one."

Suddenly, a whirlwind of hair materialized beside them. Zendaya, ever the fashion icon, flashed a dazzling smile. "Y/n, girl! That dress. How?!”

Before Y/n could reply, Zendaya dragged her towards the main exhibition, where Venus’ sister dress – Junon – was center piece, photographers already positioned for the Dior reunion.

Lewis, hovered nearby, a playful smile on his face. Even with the constant interruptions, his gaze never strayed far from Y/n.

As she managed to escape the scene, Y/n couldn't help but notice Lewis's gaze burning into her. "You know," she said, meeting his stare with a smirk, "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Can't blame a guy for appreciating a masterpiece, can you?" he countered, his voice a husky murmur.

Just as Y/n leaned in to retort, a gaggle of socialites descended upon them. Throughout the pleasantries, Y/n couldn't ignore the heated glances Lewis kept throwing her way. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of her shoulders, and a playful glint in his eyes hinted at something more than mere admiration.

Finally, as the speeches began and everyone went to their seats, Lewis leaned in close, pulling her towards his side, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. "They can all look, love." his eyes holding hers. "But you're mine."

The speeches droned on, a monotonous hum that Y/n barely registered. Her focus was solely on Lewis, his hand possessively resting on her hand on her lap. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark contrast to the cool of the dress against her skin.

As the formalities dragged on, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Every brush of their bodies, every stolen glance, fueled a fire that threatened to consume them.

"This is torture," he breathed, his breath tickling a sensitive spot on her neck. "All I want is..." he trailed off, his eyes dropping suggestively to the exposed skin of her chest.

Y/n raised an eyebrown, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension in her body language. "Finish that sentence, Lewis" she purred, her voice barely a whisper.

“You, alone." he finished, his voice rough with desire. "Somewhere I don’t need to share."

His hand moved up to her shoulders. His fingers finally grazing the edge of the dress, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/n, emboldened by the setting and the audacity of the dress itself, met his gaze with a playful smile.

"There might be a deserted exhibit around the corner," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "One filled with creatures long extinct."

A wicked grin spread across Lewis's face. "Hm…" he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint. Every glance from him felt like a branding iron, searing the memory of him onto her skin.

When the event finally came to its end, they navigated the crowd, Lewis's possessiveness evident in the way he kept guiding her by the small of her back, a silent declaration. Every so often, his eyes would flick to the exposed skin of her shoulders.

They managed to get by the crowds unusually quickly, ushered greetings and nods a clear sign everyone wanted out. But, as they approached the exit, a familiar face beamed at them. Stella McCartney, a vision of elegance in her silver dress, rushed forward to greet Y/n.

"Y/n, you look absolutely phenomenal!" Stella exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/n in a warm embrace. "That dress! It's absolutely breathtaking."

Y/n put out a smile. "Thank you, Stella. It was an honor to wear such a piece of history." While Stella gushed about the intricacies of the dress, Lewis tried to exchange a knowing look with Y/n.

The unspoken desire simmering between them was palpable, an energy that crackled in the space between them. Just then, a low chuckle caught Y/n's ear. Gayle King, stood nearby, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Lewis" she started, her voice smooth as silk, "I haven't seen you this speechless in years. Y/n, you've absolutely stolen the show."

Lewis, ever the charmer, offered her a playful smile. " You know Y/n, she has a knack for making an entrance."

Gayle, unfazed by his attempt at deflection, turned to Y/n, her gaze sharp and knowing. "You two," she said, linking her arm in Y/n's, "must tell me all about this later. That dress…and the look on Lewis's face… well, that was priceless”

Y/n, her cheeks burning, couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis. His gaze met hers, a silent conversation passing between them. They both knew Gayle was right, and that everyone had probably also seen his gaze.

As they reached the exit, Gayle pulled Y/n to the side, their voices dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep doing whatever you're doing, Y/n" Gayle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes, leaning in even closer "That boy is absolutely smitten.”

Y/n couldn't help but let out a soft laugh "Thanks, Gayle" she whispered back. With a final hug, Gayle retreated to her own car, leaving Y/n and Lewis to get into theirs. The tension between them thick, a charged silence that spoke volumes as Lewis held open the car door for her.

He slid into the car beside her, wasting no time in letting his hand roam up under the dress, reaching her thighs in no time. A devilish grin spreading across his face, leaned in close. "She's right, love" he murmured, his voice husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers."

The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. He caressed the soft skin, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to her hips. Y/n, unable to contain a shiver, bit her lip. "Lew" she breathed, her voice laced with a playful warning. "Careful now. We're not exactly alone."

He chuckled but continued his exploration, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of her dress. The driver, through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but steal a glance. Y/n, catching a glimpse of his reflection, couldn't help but feel a thrill of exhibitionism mixed with a playful desire to tease Lewis further.

As Lewis's hand continued its ascent, his fingers brushed against a smooth, unexpected surface. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. A beat of silence hung in the air before it dawned on him. No underwear.

"Couldn't risk an underwear line ruining this moment" her voice laced with a playful challenge. The audacity of her statement, coupled with the realization, made his breath hitch in his throat, raw desire clouding his eyes.

He pulled his hand back abruptly, a silent promise hanging in the air. The confined space crackling with unspoken desire.

As Y/n stole a glance at him, her heart pounded in her chest. He was trying to control himself, a clear struggle evident in the way he held his breath and clenched his jaw. The bulge in his trousers, who had been previously concealed by his trench coat, was now a very visible sign to his arousal.

"Not long until we get back, Love" Lewis finally managed, his voice husky with frustration. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his braids in a frustrated gesture. Y/n, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, let out a low chuckle.

Relief washed over both of them as they pulled into the hotel. A small army materialized around them. Her team, ever-efficient, whisked them towards her suite, their focus solely on getting her out of the Venus dress.

Throughout the undressing, Lewis hovered on the periphery, his eyes laser-focused on Y/n. He watched with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every so often, he would discreetly lick his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of his pent-up desire.

The process was a delicate ballet – a team of stylists unhooking intricate clasps, another carefully lowering the billowing skirt. Finally, wrapped in a plush towel, Y/n stood alone with Lewis, her team discreetly melting away, a knowing smile playing on their lips.

Lewis crossed the room in two long strides, the heat of anticipation crackling in the air between them. His hand reached out, almost hesitantly, to brush a strand of her now loosened hair. The touch, seemingly casual, sent a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all evening.

"There you are," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Beautiful, captivating, and all mine. Only mine."

His words hung in the air like a promise, the most possessive claim she had ever heard from him. They resonated deep within her, stirring something primal. As her heart pounded in her chest, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking solace and desire in his embrace.

"All yours," she whispered, her voice thick with longing. Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and raw emotion. In that moment, the playful banter of the night melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that neither could – or wanted – to deny.

Each second ticked by like a whisper of urgency. They had only about twenty minutes before they were due to leave for the after-party. With practiced efficiency born of desire, she threw the towel onto the bed, leaving herself bare before him, a silent invitation hanging in the air.

Lewis's eyes roamed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as she reached down to undress him from his pants. "Don't have time for that, love," he murmured, his hands stopping hers with a swift motion.

With a sudden shift of momentum, he flipped her, his hands tracing over her tummy as he left a trail of kisses along her shoulder. Each kiss sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her, her breath hitching with every touch of his lips against her skin.

His hands ventured lower with each kiss, until they reached her folds, his touch igniting a primal hunger within her. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers delved into her depths, drawing out her arousal with a skillful touch that left her trembling with desire.

Feeling the urgency of their fleeting moments, she flipped around, dropping to her knees to palm him through his boxers. The outline of his thick arousal was already prominent, and she freed it eagerly, the velvet hardness filling her hands. With practiced skill, she teased him, eliciting a delicious hiss of pleasure as she took him into her mouth, savoring the taste of him.

But time was slipping away and they both knew it. Five minutes had already slipped by, according to the bedside clock. His hands gripped her chin, pulling her up "I promise later we can take our time, but I need your pussy right now," he breathed, urgency lacing his words with a desperate plea.

With a hungry nod, she positioned herself, elbows resting on the armchair, presenting herself to him with a silent invitation. The tip of his arousal teased her entrance, collecting her slickness before he plunged into her with a single, deep thrust. A sharp cry escaped her lips as he bottomed out, his hands soothing the skin of her hips as he waited for her signal to move.

"Lew" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for release. His fingers circled her clit, igniting a fire within her as he began to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of oblivion.

It didn't take long before she was panting, her body trembling with the force of her climax. Lewis held her close, whispering words of encouragement as she rode the wave of ecstasy, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared passion.

As she steadied herself, he resumed his frenzied thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, holding her tightly as their bodies trembled with shared pleasure, the world fading away into a haze of ecstasy.

When he pulled out, she turned into his embrace, cupping his face in her hands as she gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. "They can look all they want, but you're the one here," she declared, pulling him into a passionate kiss, sealing their bond with a promise of devotion and desire.

His hands left her only briefly to clean her up before dressing himself, his movements slow and deliberate as he savored the lingering moments of what had just happened.

As he emerged in his Dior attire, abs on full display, Y/n's eyes sparkled, a playful challenge in her voice. "Guess, you're the one drawing all the attention now," she teased as she admired him.

Lewis chuckled, his gaze lingering on her in the black Dior mini. "You don't look too bad yourself, love," he countered, his voice a low rumble.

He pulled her close, his hand trailing down her back. "But trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "tonight, the only eyes I care about are yours."

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1

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honeyedmiller · 11 months ago

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A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days.

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being.

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way.

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye.

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line.

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner.

So he was a firefighter.

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around.

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink.

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks.

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you.

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest.

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café.

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall.

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties.

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out.

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all.

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee.

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.”

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt.

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious.

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around.

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close.

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting.

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that.

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically.

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?”

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.”

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips.

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along.

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him.

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.”

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness.

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.”

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly.

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.”

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.”

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door.

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment.

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver.

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper.

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.”

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.”

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that.

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks.

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home.

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.”

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead.

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you.

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it.

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.”

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile.

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!”

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off.

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number.

Unknown number:

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response.

You:

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use?

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text.

Joel:

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake.

You:

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it?

Joel:

Stupid how?

You:

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself?

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning.

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again.

You:

I’m glad we did too, Joel.

Joel:

Watcha up to right now?

You:

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going?

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out.

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip.

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red.

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car.

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens.

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head.

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene.

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see.

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass.

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.”

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.”

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws.

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man.

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him.

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.”

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face.

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad.

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly.

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving.

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods.

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene.

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve.

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap.

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that.

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire.

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion.

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest.

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you.

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well.

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised.

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off.

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away.

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him.

His eyebrows raise in shock.

“To who?” He asks.

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more.

“She said I should give it a shot with you.”

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway.

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat.

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller.

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #firefighter!joel #Joel Miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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pandapetals · 10 days ago

Note

I absolutely LOVE your stories! They’re some of my favorites to read, especially the Logan and reader being in an established relationship series. They’re so adorable 🥰

I was wondering if you could do a story with Logan (any Logan) and his girlfriend/wife (could be the established relationship series or separate). The girlfriend/wife is jealous of a female mutant Logan has to do a mission with where they have to act like a couple…something like that!

Thank you so much! <3 I had to rework this like 5 times but I think I'm finally happy with it. Thank you for the request and hopefully I did it justice.

logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - jealousy, angst, jean slander sorry–she’s the mutant who tries something on logan, some fluff at the end, soft logan, cocky logan, mission, x-men, established relationship, no y/n used, no reader description, mutant reader but no powers mentioned

The tension in Xavier’s office was thick, almost suffocating, like a storm cloud pressing down on the room. Everyone stood with rapt attention as Xavier outlined the mission, his calm, steady voice doing little to ease the weight of what was at stake. This was no routine intel-gathering run. Rumor had it that a mutant underground club was doubling as a recruitment hub for Magneto’s latest scheme. If the rumors were true, the people inside could be dangerous—either willing recruits or innocents caught in the crossfire. The team’s job was to confirm the truth without tipping their hand. Subtlety was key.

Subtlety, unfortunately, wasn’t Logan’s strong suit. And focusing, apparently, wasn’t yours.

You tried to focus—really, you did—but the heat of Logan’s shoulder brushing against yours kept pulling your attention away like a magnet tugging at metal.

It wasn’t entirely his fault—you knew that. Since you and Logan started dating, focusing on anything else has become challenging. Especially when Logan, with that cocky smirk and the gleam of mischief in his hazel eyes, seemed to delight in testing your resolve.

“I can tell you’re not listening, gorgeous,” Logan murmured, his gravelly voice low enough for only you to hear. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your pulse quicken as his arm brushed lightly against yours.

You shot him a warning look, though your hand betrayed you by slipping around his waist, pulling him just a bit closer. “I am listening,” you whispered.

Logan turned his head slightly, the stubble along his jaw catching the light. “Oh yeah?” he muttered, his tone dripping with amusement. “What did Chuck just say?”

You opened your mouth, a retort ready, but Xavier’s voice broke through before you could fire back. “You and Logan will cover the west side together. Jean and Scott, the east. Ororo will remain in position for aerial observation and backup.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course, you and Logan were paired together. How were you supposed to focus on anything when he was constantly finding ways to get under your skin—and under your dress if you weren’t careful?

Xavier continued, “The club caters to both humans and mutants, so your priority is to remain inconspicuous. Blend in. Gather intel. And for once,” his gaze lingered pointedly on Logan, “please keep things subtle.”

Logan shrugged, utterly unbothered by the implication. “Subtle’s my middle name.”

Beside him, Scott let out a snort, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, right.”

Everyone nodded, the plan solidified and began filing out of the room. Logan lingered just long enough to lean down, his lips brushing your ear. “West side, huh? Guess we’ll be busy.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the way your cheeks flushed. “Don’t slow me down.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The mission led the team to a dimly lit part of the city where the target location—a grungy underground club—throbbed with energy. Neon signs flickered above the entrance, throwing shades of electric blue and pink across the sidewalk. The thumping bass spilled into the street, vibrating through the soles of your boots. You could already feel the tension of the place: it wasn’t just another club. The air buzzed with unspoken power as if everyone inside was waiting for something—or someone.

You tugged at the hem of your black dress, feeling exposed compared to the usual leather uniforms. The club’s dress code dictated a casual look, but “casual” for Logan apparently meant his usual jeans, a worn leather jacket, and a white shirt that clung just enough to remind you why your focus always wavered around him. He caught your eyes roaming and smirked.

“You clean up nice,” you said, though your tone was dry to keep your cool.

Logan’s smirk only deepened. “Don’t look too hard, sweetheart. We’re supposed to be blending in, not staring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “But you love it.”

Before you could reply, Scott’s voice interrupted. “Can you two please cool it for five seconds?” His voice was already tight with irritation, the way it always got around Logan. He adjusted the cuffs of his blazer like a stressed-out principal about to scold unruly students. “We need to focus. This is a mission, not a date.”

“Relax, Boy Scout,” Logan said with a shrug, his tone casual but deliberately antagonistic. “I’m just blending in. Pretty sure flirting counts as recon in a place like this.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t,” Scott shot back, glaring.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand as Logan leaned in closer, his smirk widening. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get paired with you,” Logan murmured.

Jean stepped between them before things could escalate, her presence commanding yet calm. Her red hair shimmered faintly under the neon glow as she raised a hand. “Enough,” she said, her voice low and measured, like a scalpel cutting through the tension.

Scott bristled but backed off, “We split up here. Stick to your assignments. Keep your eyes open and your comms on. Regroup in an hour unless someone finds something first.” His jaw tightened as he turned, but not before reaching for Jean’s hand and storming off with her trailing behind him.

You sighed, the tension lingering in the air long after they disappeared into the crowd. Beside you, Logan exhaled through his nose, clearly amused. He reached for your hand, his calloused fingers rough but steady as he began weaving through the throng of bodies. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Can’t let the Boy Scout hog all the fun.”

The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up into your chest as you let Logan lead the way. The crush of people, the flashing strobe lights, the humid press of bodies—it was all overwhelming, the kind of chaos that seeped under your skin. You tugged at the hem of your dress, wishing for the familiarity of your leather uniform, or at least the comfort of knowing where the real threats were hiding.

“You look uncomfortable,” Logan said, leaning in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His breath was warm, and damn it, the heat of him this close to you made your stomach flip.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice sharper than you intended. The noise and the crush of bodies weren’t the only things making it hard to breathe. It was him—always him. Logan had a way of turning your focus into a tangled mess, and you hated how much he knew it.

He smirked, his free hand settling lightly on your hip as he guided you toward the bar. “Sure you are. Just don’t step on my toes if we have to dance.”

You gave him a pointed look, arching a brow. “Dance? You don’t seem like the dancing type.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Guess you’ll find out, huh?”

Before you could retort, Ororo’s voice crackled through the comm in your ear, sharp and focused. “Heads up. Security’s tightening near the back. Someone might’ve tipped them off.”

The playful ease between you and Logan evaporated in an instant. You straightened, your eyes scanning the room more carefully now. The crowd still swayed to the rhythm of the music, but you spotted shadowy figures moving along the edges of the space. They were coordinated, and precise—not like usual club security. Their sharp, assessing gazes cut through the crowd, searching for something. Or someone.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, stepping closer to Logan without thinking. Your body gravitated toward his instinctively, as though the safest place in the room was next to him.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Logan tilted his head, glancing toward the figures in the distance, his hand briefly brushing your lower back before pulling away. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. He leaned down, lips brushing your temple in a fleeting kiss that sent a jolt through you. “Try not to get us into trouble, gorgeous.”

“Try not to enjoy yourself too much,” you shot back, your words sharper than you meant them to be. He smirked but didn’t respond, disappearing into the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who could move through shadows like he belonged there.

You leaned against the bar, crossing your arms as you let your eyes roam the packed room. Scanning for anyone suspicious was easier said than done with the neon lights flashing and dancers moving like one writhing, chaotic mass. Every other face looked ordinary—until it didn’t. The line between an innocent bystander and a potential enemy blurred in a place like this.

You tried to focus, but your eyes kept drifting, scanning for a familiar silhouette. And then, through the press of bodies on the dance floor, you spotted Logan. Relief flickered through you briefly—until you saw who he was with.

Jean.

Your stomach tightened as you watched them. Jean’s red hair glimmered under the strobes, her figure elegant even amid the chaos. She stood close to Logan—too close. They were facing each other, her head tilted toward him as if they were sharing a private conversation. Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was the commotion in the club that caused it. Not them. Not this.

You knew their history. Everyone did. It wasn’t a secret that Logan had carried a torch for Jean for years. And though he’d insisted—again and again—that it was all in the past, the sight of them together now made your chest tighten with something sharp and bitter.

Then, you noticed him: a man near the edge of the dance floor. His eyes weren’t on the crowd—they were on Logan and Jean. He stood out against the backdrop of revelers, stiff and alert, his gaze predatory. Something about him screamed danger: the way he carried himself, the faint scar cutting across his cheek, the subtle tension in his stance. Recognition flickered in your mind—he looked like one of Magneto’s men, someone you’d seen before.

Your grip on the edge of the bar tightened as realization dawned. Jean must have noticed him, too, because she suddenly stepped closer to Logan, her hand brushing his arm. She said something, her lips moving quickly, urgently. Logan glanced toward the man, then back at Jean. His jaw clenched, but then, he nodded.

To your disbelief, Jean slid her arm around Logan’s waist, leaning into him as though they were nothing more than a couple enjoying the music. Logan didn’t resist. His hand came to rest on her back, pulling her closer, and for one agonizing moment, they looked too real.

Your stomach twisted, and you hated yourself for it. This was a mission. You knew that. It wasn’t personal, and yet it felt like a punch to the gut. The way Logan leaned down, his lips brushing Jean’s ear as he whispered something—it was a performance, you told yourself but that didn’t stop the jealousy curling hot and bitter in your chest.

You forced yourself to look away, your nails digging into your palm as you tried to focus on the mission. The man was still watching them, his expression unreadable, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You couldn’t just stand there, not when the man’s sharp, calculating gaze kept flicking between Logan, Jean, and the crowd as though he was deciding on his next move. Your heart was still twisting from the sight of Logan and Jean pressed so close together, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. The man was dangerous—you could feel it in the way he stood, too poised for someone casually attending a club. He was waiting for something, and you weren’t about to let him make the first move.

Steeling yourself, you pushed off the bar and weaved through the crowd, keeping your movements casual. The bass pounded beneath your feet, the flashing lights making it harder to focus, but you never lost sight of him. He was still near the edge of the dance floor, his hand resting near his hip—too close to where you guessed he was hiding a weapon.

As you approached, you caught his eye. His gaze sharpened immediately, locking you like a predator noticing prey. You gave him a practiced, easy smile, tilting your head as though you’d wandered over for no other reason than to flirt.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light despite the way your pulse thundered in your ears. “You look like you’re not having much fun. Bad night?”

The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes darted past you, likely tracking Logan and Jean over your shoulder. His jaw ticked, his face impassive but rigid, and he shifted his weight, subtly adjusting his stance.

You stepped closer, determined to draw his focus fully onto you. “I know this place can get a little crazy,” you continued, tilting your head and letting your lips curve into a faint smirk. “But I’d hate to think you came all the way here just to sulk in the corner.”

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cold. “I suggest you walk away.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You’d expected deflection, maybe an excuse. Not this. His tone carried a weight of threat, and now you were sure—you’d been right. This guy wasn’t just anyone.

Feigning a laugh, you took another step forward. “Walk away? Come on, now. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

That’s when you saw it: the briefest flicker of movement near his side. His hand darted toward his hip, toward what you were sure was a concealed weapon.

Instinct took over. Before he could draw, you lashed out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. The motion forced him to drop the weapon—a sleek, black blade that clattered to the floor. He reacted instantly, yanking his arm free and shoving you back with surprising force. You stumbled but caught your footing just as he lunged toward you, his movements quick and deliberate.

You managed to dodge his first swing, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. “Guess we’re skipping the small talk,” you muttered under your breath, shifting into a defensive stance.

His second swing came fast, but this time, you were ready. You ducked beneath it, stepping inside his guard and slamming your elbow into his ribs. He grunted, staggering back a step, but the fight wasn’t over yet.

Unfortunately, neither was your luck.

Just as you braced for his next move, a familiar voice rang out behind you—sharp, commanding, and far too loud.

“Get down!”

You barely had time to react before a blast of energy ripped past you, slamming into the man’s chest and sending him flying backward into a table. The wood splintered beneath his weight, the force of the impact leaving no question as to who had intervened.

You turned, your heart sinking as you spotted Scott standing a few feet away, his visor glowing faintly with residual energy. His expression was grim, his shoulders tense as he lowered his hand. The crowd around you froze for a split second before chaos erupted.

Screams filled the room as people scrambled toward the exits and the pulsing music abruptly cut off. Bodies pushed and shoved past you, the panicked crowd turning into a stampede. Strobe lights flickered overhead, casting the room in chaotic bursts of shadow and color.

“What the hell, Scott?” you shouted over the commotion, throwing your hands up in frustration.

Scott was already moving toward you, his face tight with determination. “He was about to kill you,” he snapped, his tone clipped. “You’re welcome.”

“I had it under control,” you shot back, though even you knew that was debatable. Still, it didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

The comm crackled to life in your ear, Ororo’s voice cutting through the noise. “What’s going on? Your cover’s blown—we’re seeing mass panic on the cameras.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, dodging a panicked clubgoer who nearly knocked you over. “Scott just blasted the guy I was questioning. Pretty sure everyone in here knows we’re not here for drinks.”

“Damn it,” Logan’s voice growled through the comm, the irritation unmistakable. “I’m on my way. Keep her safe, Summers.”

The crowd surged again, making it harder to keep your footing. Scott grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him as a group of heavily armed men burst into the room from a side entrance. Their uniforms were black and sleek, their weapons unmistakably high-tech. Magneto’s people, no doubt about it.

“We need to get out of here, now,” Scott barked, shoving you toward the nearest exit.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the dance floor where you’d last seen Logan. Panic gnawed at your chest, but Scott’s grip on your arm tightened, dragging you forward.

“Logan can handle himself,” Scott said sharply. “Our priority is getting out of here alive.”

You gritted your teeth, frustration and fear warring inside you, but you didn’t have time to argue. The mission had gone sideways, and now it was all about survival.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The jet ride back to the mansion was quiet, but the air in the cabin was heavy with unspoken tension, crackling like static electricity. Everyone was accounted for, and alive, but you couldn’t shake the pang of jealousy still twisting like a knife in your chest. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of Jean leaning into Logan on the dance floor flared back to life—her hand on his arm, his hand on her back, the way they moved in sync as if it were second nature.

It didn’t help that Scott was stealing glances at them, too. His jaw clenched and his hands fidgeted, flexing into fists and then relaxing again. For once, you couldn’t blame him. His eyes kept darting between Jean and Logan, flickering with something unspoken. Maybe it was the same ugly mix of emotions brewing inside of you.

You stayed silent the whole ride, simmering in your thoughts, trying and failing to bury the bitterness bubbling in your chest. You told yourself it was nothing. A mission. A cover. That’s all it had been. But you couldn’t ignore the sharp ache of it, the nagging voice in your head whispering that Logan and Jean had been too comfortable with each other. Too natural.

By the time the jet landed and everyone started filing out, you’d had enough. You couldn’t sit in this anymore, couldn’t let the tension keep eating away at you.

Jean was halfway across the room when the words spilled out of you, sharp and cutting before you could stop them.

“You couldn’t have done that to Scott—you know, your boyfriend, Jean?”

Your voice rang out louder than you expected, making everyone pause. Even Logan stopped mid-step, glancing back at you with a frown.

Jean turned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you were all over Logan on the dance floor,” you snapped, stepping toward her. The words felt like a dam breaking, everything you’d been holding back spilling out in an uncontrollable rush. “You said you were just telling him to ‘watch out’? Really? Because it looked a hell of a lot more like you were trying to grind on him!”

Jean blinked, her expression flashing from confusion to shock and then to something more defensive. “Excuse me? I was warning him about the guy watching us. It was part of the cover. I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “Weren’t leaning into him like you’ve done a hundred times before? Weren’t touching him like you used to when you thought no one was looking?”

Jean’s face fell, and you could see the hurt flash in her eyes, but your frustration burned too hot for you to stop now.

Logan’s voice cut through the rising tension like a knife, low and rough. “That’s enough.”

You turned to face him, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Is it?” you shot back, your chest tightening as you met his gaze. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Logan’s hazel eyes stayed steady, but there was a flicker of something softer and patient, even as his jaw tightened. “Yeah, it is,” he said evenly, stepping closer to you, his voice dropping low so only you could hear. “We’re not doin’ this here.”

You wanted to argue, to push back, but the weight of his hand on your arm stilled you. His touch was steady and grounding, and despite the fire still burning in your chest, you let him guide you out of the room, leaving the others behind.

He didn’t stop until you were outside in the cool night air, the mansion looming behind you like a silent witness. The faint chirping of crickets filled the space between you, but it did little to ease the knot in your chest.

Logan finally turned to face you, his expression calm but resolute. “Alright,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s get this out now.”

You crossed your arms, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “What do you want me to say, Logan? That it didn’t bother me? That seeing you and Jean like that didn’t make me feel like—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head. “Like I didn’t matter?”

His brow furrowed, and he took a step closer. “Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “It was just a cover. You know that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, your voice quieter now but no less pointed. “Because it didn’t look like it.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked almost... unsure. Vulnerable, even. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing on him, and it made you hesitate.

“You really think I’d do that to you?” he asked, his tone quieter now, almost disbelieving. “After everything?”

You dropped your gaze, the anger in your chest cooling just enough for guilt to creep in around the edges. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... her. You and her. You have a history, Logan.”

He let out a breath, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of space between you. His hand brushed against your arm, his touch gentle but insistent, as he needed you to understand. “Yeah, we got history,” he said, his voice steady, “but that’s all it is—history. What we had, it’s done. Been done. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be with.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to hold onto the jealousy still simmering inside you. “Then why did it look so... easy for you two?”

“Because I know how to act,” Logan replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Figured I had to sell it, right? Thought that was the job.” He tilted his head, his smirk fading into something softer. “But don’t get it twisted. That’s all it was—an act. You’re the real deal.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the knot in your chest loosening little by little. The way he looked at you—steady, unwavering—left no room for doubt. You hated how easily he could disarm you, but at this moment, you were grateful for it.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your arms uncrossing as you leaned into him. “You’re lucky you’re good with words,” you muttered, your voice softer now, teasing.

Logan chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Not words, sweetheart. Just the truth.”

And for the first time that night, the tension in your chest eased completely.

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #marvel #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #x men movies #x men comics #jean grey #scott summers #logan x reader #logan x fem you #logan x fem!reader

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heavenlyvision · 1 year ago

Text

Until hell freezes over

Word count: 6.7k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This is a part two to when hell freezes over

A/N: Longest fic so far woohoo, I’m overjoyed at the interactions and comments I got from the first part so thank you for the attention. I’m glad you’ve all been enjoying my writing; it encourages me to write more! I hope you all enjoy this part as much as the first and please reach out with any thoughts, feelings, questions, anything of the sort. I am happy to interact with everyone. And thank you for reading! :)

Summary: Ever since you and Bi-Han had sex he’s been staring at you even more than before, not that he’s admitted to it yet. A competition begins between the two of you, who can hold out longest?

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, masturbation, p in v sex, creampie, possessive!Bi-Han, hickeys (reader receiving), pussy slapping (one), inappropriate use of Bi-Hans official title, minor appearance of pussy drunk Bi-Han, return of mean Bi-Han, special appearance of soft Bi-Han, no use of y/n

Following the events of the other night, Bi-Han has been staring at you a lot more frequently. You can’t be certain what he’s thinking about, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You had both mutually agreed to keep what happened between yourselves, but he keeps giving you bedroom eyes and it isn’t going to take long for someone to catch on if he keeps looking at you like that.

Subtlety does not seem to be Bi-Han’s strong suit, which you feel is cosmically ironic considering how subtle he is in other facets of his life. His eyes set you on fire, you know what he wants from you. You haven’t slept with him since the first time, three days ago now.

The reason for this is because you needed time to recover from the world class fucking you received the first time and because you want to get to know him more; by actually talking to him. Not that, that stops him from shoving you up against walls and sticking his tongue in your mouth when he gets the chance. Just the memories of his indiscretions make you vibrate with arousal.

Other than those few shared, private moments, he’s respected the fact that you don’t want to have sex again yet. He is getting impatient though, you can tell by the way his constant staring has gotten more intense. His eyes track your every move when you’re close to him, sometimes it seems like he’s actively fighting the urge to pick you up and walk away with you over his shoulder.

Everyone is in the training area right now, and Bi-Han is standing by Lord Liu Kang, and yup, he is staring at you, again. You really can’t be shocked anymore; you’ve come to realise that the most he communicates is with his eyes and his grunts.

Lord Liu Kang steps away from Bi-Han to talk with Kuai Liang on the other side of the training area, you take the opening to slowly shuffle yourself up next to Bi-Han.

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” you say quietly, keeping your head forward.

“Looking at you like what?”

You have to try real hard not to make a face of annoyance at him. He always does this, acts dense on purpose just to get under your skin.

“Like we’ve had sex,” you hush out at him.

He moves to stand directly in front of you and tilting his head down slightly he says, “That is a little difficult, considering we have had sex, sweet girl.”

He’s taunting you, it’s not fair, the nickname, his words, it’s all not fair to you and he knows it. It’s why he does it, he wants you to break first, to beg him for it, and as the days pass by, you’re worried you will cave and beg him to fuck you. And he is counting on it, it’s probably part of the reason why he pushes you up against walls and kisses your breath away. You get the feeling that the man has an impeccable resolve, which makes you want to break it. It’s turned into an unspoken competition between the two of you.

“You aren’t being very fair,” you try not to, but you can’t help but pout at him.

His eyes sparkle as he looks at your sulking face, “I’m not trying to be fair,”

Bastard, you go to tell him as much, but he cuts you off, “I am trying to get you to ask me for what you need, I want you to ask me sweetly to fuck you.”

He has said you undo him, but he is actively pulling you apart, he wants you at his feet and you’re afraid that you might comply. You are strong, you can resist him, you just have to want to win more than him and you are competitive. You’ve decided you’re going to turn his constant stares and teasing into determination. You are determined to win, you want him coming to you, head in his hands asking you for your body.

He can see the way your eyes harden with your own resolve and his light up in an amused way at it, you find it maddening that he’s getting joy from this.

“You will not be winning this, Grandmaster.” You say his title to stab home your determination, you want him to know that he is the one who turned this into a challenge. One that you aren’t willing to lose.

The use of his official title is effective, his smile falters for a second, a glimmer or his underlying arousal for you shining through his mirth. Good, you think.

“Mmm where has my sweet girl gone?” He asks you, his smug nature intact. Not good, you think, he might be able to play dirty better than you.

Your confidence in yourself is waning the longer he looks at you, “Just… stop looking at me.”

A smile breaks out across his face, “Not if it’ll get you to break first.”

You keep showing him your hand, he makes you weak, and he likes that about you. Maybe it would be smarter to use that to your advantage, rather than pretending he doesn’t affect you. He’s able to read you impeccably well, any lie you try and give him is probably going to fall flat. Lying isn’t something you consider yourself to be bad at but trying to lie to Bi-Han is like trying to lie to someone who can read minds, so it’s better to just avoid it.

“You’re right Bi-Han, I want you, badly, all the time,” you’re looking at him as innocently as possible.

One of his eyebrows raises in response, “Are you asking for something?” He’s hoping you are.

“Nope. Just letting you know how much I want you. All the time.” You state before walking over to where you were previously standing with Johnny and Kenshi.

You would’ve liked to keep talking with him, but you have a feeling that would be more to your detriment than his. Tuning back into Kenshi and Johnny’s conversation you realise they’re arguing, because of course they are.

“Just give the sword back Johnny!” Kenshi sounds exasperated with him, this is not the first time they’ve argued over this, and you have a feeling it won’t be the last.

“No way man! Do you know how much this cost me?” Johnny is just as equally exasperated as Kenshi. Their relationship and squabbles amuse you, until –

“Settle this, do you think he should give Sento back?” They both turn to you suddenly, dragging you into this argument against your will. How nice of them.

You really do not want to be dragged into this, “I have no stake in this, guys.”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s why you should decide for us,” Johnny adds.

Why would they want you to settle this, whatever you decide the other would be angry with and you like both of them.

“Look, guys, this isn’t something that another person can solve for you, and I’d really rather not pick, I don’t want to lose a friend based on a choice I make.”

They both stare at you, God, what is with all these men and staring.

Then you feel it, his looming presence coming up behind you, he grabs your shoulder to get your attention. You drop your head back to look up at him.

“Did you have something to ask, Sub-Zero?”

He looks down his nose at you, “mmm, you need to come with me.”

Straightening your head, you look forward again, you go to address the two men in front of you but before you can, Johnny looks at Bi-Han and says, “Wait, before you leave, settle this for us. Who do you think should have Sento?”

Bi-Han looks at the pair of them dead eyed for a moment, trying to give Johnny a chance to take his question back, “Don’t care.” He states plainly before grabbing your arm and walking away.

Why Johnny thought asking him was a good idea you have no idea, you turn around quickly to apologise to them both, they’re giving you a sympathetic look. Their pity is granted because to them, you’ve just been pulled away by the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. Assumedly, about to get scolded for something, which may be half true. You give them a smile back; to try and assuage any genuine worry they may have, before facing Bi-Han’s back again, following him silently.

He walks you away from the training area into a quiet, empty area of the temple. Your heart is racing, you have no idea what he’s intending to do, he wouldn’t have cracked that easily, which means he’s brought you here for another reason. He’s stopped walking, back facing you.

“Bi-Han, why have you kidnapped me?”

He turns to face you, rolling his eyes at your light-hearted accusation, “I have not kidnapped you, that’s an exaggeration.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him and placing a hand on your hip, you say, “I am well aware, what did you have to ask?”

“How long?” He asks, he needs to start speaking in full sentences, more often than not he will state something like it doesn’t need further explanation.

Though you can probably guess with pretty good accuracy what he’s referring to, that doesn’t mean you’re going to make it easy for him. Time for a taste of his own medicine, he’s often acting intentionally dense to get you to admit to things, now it’s his turn.

“How long for what?”

His eyes harden at you, “How long until I can have all of you again?”

Is he trying to compromise with you? Maybe he wasn’t as confident in his own willpower as you thought, “that depends, are you giving up?”

“No.”

“It’s a competition now, Bi-Han, there is no timeline anymore.” Not that there was ever a timeline, you were just hoping to get to know him a bit more before sleeping with him again but seeing him increasingly get more desperate is too good to turn away from now.

Watching him struggle with what he wants to do next has you realising, two sides of Bi-Han are clashing right now. He’s stubborn but he’s also impatient, it’s thrilling not knowing which side will win.

“It’s a stupid competition. Childish.” He spits the words at you.

“You started it.” You shrug at him.

“I most certainly did not start this.” He points at you.

He’s getting angry now, it has you smiling, “you’re only annoyed now because I’m winning.”

He grunts at you, “This could end right now Bi-Han, if you just admit you’ve lost.” You’re offering him a way out; one you know he won’t take.

“What are the rules?”

You answer him honestly, “I hadn’t considered any.”

He stalks towards you, it has you taking steps back until you hit a wall. Both of his hands come up and cage you against it, he leans down slightly, head angled, “then I will.”

You look up at him, eyes large, taking him all in, “Bi-Han, you’re really pretty,” you tell him your internal thought by accident.

He looks shocked for a second before his head rests on your shoulder, he speaks into your neck, “Sweet, sweet girl, my sweet girl.” He inhales the scent of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

This situation is precarious for you, if he sweet talks you, you might cave. You need to get him back on topic. But before you can speak to get him back on track, he moves his lips to yours, one of his hands coming off the wall to grab at the side of your face, angling you to his liking. Tongue entering your mouth teasingly, you moan into his mouth, and he swallows the sound.

When he pulls back, he smirks at the look on your face, your eyes wet and soft for him, he always makes you feel so pliable. This competition is not made for you, you bend to his will too easily, he’s only kissed you and you want more.

You close your eyes tight, not looking into his eyes will help, he’s got pretty eyes that you fall into every time. You just need to not look at him right now.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek, a rare sign of the way he coddles you.

“I can’t look at you and your pretty eyes.”

He hums in response, “that’s fine, only need your lips for what I’m doing right now.”

Then he leans in to kiss you again, he’s being gentle, tender, tongue licking into your mouth and exploring, he’s taking his time, kissing your breath away.

He’s officially, completely, distracted from what he was talking about, lips moving against yours, consuming you. He moves his body closer to yours, the feel of him against you has a whimper slipping from you. The sound makes him grunt but it brings him back to himself, and he pulls away, but not before he plants a single wet kiss on your lips and then he’s pulling his lips away completely.

Forehead resting against yours, he huffs, “you wanna give up?”

You nod your head, and he seems pleased, but you continue on to say, “I do, but I’m not going to.” His small moment of triumph ripped from him at your words.

A low grunt is his response to you, he’s disappointed that you haven’t caved but only because he’s not going to either. “Want you and your tight, little–”

“Rules! What rules did you want?” you cut him off, his words are his weapon and right now he’s one good strike away from you giving in and letting him do whatever he wants to you.

He smirks at you, he knows how his words effect you, loves the way you squirm at the things he whispers to you.

“From now on losing counts as, kissing, touching, dirty talk, whispering sweet nothings to each other–”

“–Bi-Han, you’ve done all of those things, just now.” The gall of this man.

“There were no rules before,” he’s dismissive of your complaint.

You have an incredulous look on your face, “well, there goes your whole arsenal then.”

“Not really, I still have my pretty eyes.” He’s making fun of you, but you know the way you react to and compliment him has him soft for you.

“No nicknames?” You ask him.

He glares at you, “no nicknames.” He confirms.

That makes you sulk a bit, not only because calling him Grandmaster was one of your trump cards but also because you like when he calls you sweet girl.

“Can you still call me sweet girl?” You ask him gently; you genuinely don’t want him to stop but you’re also playing dirty by asking and you know it.

His chest rumbles with a deep growl and his head tips back, “Fucken, alright but only because I think it will benefit me more than you.”

When he looks at you again there is a cheeky smile on your face, “compliments? Can I still tell you how pretty your eyes are? Or how I love when your arms are crossed and your muscles become defined, or how hot your hands looks when they flex, or–”

One of his hands moves to cover your mouth, cutting you off, “Jesu– no, no compliments.”

You give the palm of his hand a small kiss and his head falls forward, chin on his chest, “You’re going to kill me,” he sighs.

You’re smiling against his palm; this round goes to you.

❆˖°

It’s been a few days since your rendezvous with Bi-Han, he had to go away for a couple of them to take care of some business but ever since he’s been back you think he’s been avoiding you. And you aren’t sure if that excites or frightens you. The upper hand was yours last time, now you’re worried that he’s plotting his revenge, and you have no idea what he would even do. His rules basically take away all of his trump cards, but they also take away yours. Leaving you both in a weird purgatory state of trying to figure out what to do next without breaking any of the rules.

There are a few options, but unless you can get away with walking around the temple grounds completely naked without anyone seeing you, there isn’t anything that could get him to break quickly enough.

You find yourself back at the rock, you’ve started calling it your enlightenment rock, on account of how often you come here to meditate. Though you aren’t here for spiritual guidance currently. Not unless the spirits can guide you on how to break Bi-Han’s will into fucking you senseless. It feels a little inappropriate to even think about here, but you think best here, and you need the peace right now.

Thinking about what you could do is exhausting, you’re not good at initiating these kinds of things, you’re more of a defence kind of person than attack. Which makes Bi-Han avoiding you even funnier, he’s pretty quick to go on the attack, usually.

You’re at a stalemate and you want to be the one to break it, but you’ll need a for sure thing, if you go in half-cocked and your plan fails it gives him an opening to get you to crack, which, in all honesty, you would. He breaks down all your defences with just a look, and now that you’re thinking about it, that might be his plan.

This is what you mean by thinking about this is mentally taxing, you’re either thinking too hard or not hard enough. The man is unpredictable, and you like that about him, just, not right now. You want to be the one to win and over thinking might cost you the competition.

A big smile breaks out across your face as you are suddenly blessed with a fantastic idea to get the man to break, not the kind of enlightenment you usually come here for but it’s the next best thing.

The moment is taken from you when you feel Bi-Han’s eyes on you, “Hello Bi-Han.” You don’t turn around to look at him.

“How do you always manage to know it’s me? I am a ninja, and I can’t even look at you without you knowing.” He’s curious about your sixth sense for him and you don’t have an answer that would satisfy him.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I can feel it, that’s the best way to describe it.”

“And what do you feel when I look at you?” He’s moving closer to you, standing directly behind your sitting form. Any closer and his back would be pressed against yours.

You consider what to say, you could lie but like you’ve said, lying to him is damn near impossible, “It feels electric.” It’s the only way you can accurately describe how it feels to have his gaze aimed at you.

He grunts at you in response.

You’re smiling because he’s so soft for you in the oddest of ways, “you asked,” you tell him.

“Shouldn’t have.” He pauses before continuing, “Mmm, what are you doing out here? It’s getting late.”

And it is, you had realised this you just needed the silence to give you ideas for your plan. The temple has too many people and you often get pulled into conversations, you don’t mind, but you’re taking this competition unnecessarily seriously.

“I have been thinking.”

“And what have you been thinking of?” He asks.

“I’d tell you, but I think it would count as whispering sweet nothings to you.”

You can practically feel the way he rolls his eyes from behind you, he huffs a breath out and you can feel the air brush against your neck. You stifle your reaction, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of your body reacting to him without physical touch.

He’s moving his face closer to the back of yours, lips close to you neck but never touching, “there is nothing I can say right now that won’t break those stupid rules.”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you at his breath whispering over your skin “you made them.”

“Might break them too. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me breaking first, taking you however I desire–”

“–You are walking a very thin line Bi-Han,” you remind him, he often gets lost in the words he speaks to you.

He takes a step back, sighing again, “Come back to the temple, dinner will be served soon.”

You look back at him and smile, “I’ll be up soon.”

“Don’t take too long, it’s supposed to be cold tonight,” he mumbles at you as he begins to walk away.

It’s adorable, the way he cares if you eat on time or if you’ll be warm. He’s driving you crazy without even realising it, if he turned back and said one more thing concerning your wellbeing, you’d break the rules by running up to him and hugging him.

❆˖°

Waiting is all you can do right now; you’re waiting until everyone has gone back to their quarters so that you can sneak into Bi-Han’s and put your plan into action. It’s not going to be particularly fair to him and you don’t know if he’ll classify it as cheating, but you don’t classify it as cheating, not technically anyways.

It’s almost quarter to midnight when it sounds like everyone has turned in for the night and you take the opportunity to sneak from your room and briskly walk to Bi-Han’s.

Approaching the door, you tentatively knock at it, waiting for him to answer and slide the door open feels like it takes forever but when he does you feel like you might fold on the spot, he’s wearing a loose robe, his whole chest on display and the worst part is, his hair is down and in his face a little. He has such soft looking hair, and you want nothing more than to run your hands through it.

Bi-Hans face is decidedly unhappy until he realises it’s you at his door, and then he’s smug, taking in your gaze, all gooey for him.

“Evening, sweet girl, you here to give in?” He’s grinning at you like you’re his prey.

You hurry inside past him, careful not to touch him, “No, I’m here to win.”

He groans, exasperated at you, like he couldn’t just cave now and end it all. “C’mon, just give in, I know you want to.”

“and I know you want to, too,” you’re standing in the middle of his room awkwardly, you’re trying to decide how you’re going to do this.

He slides the door closed and turns to look at you, his head crooking to the side slightly, hair falling into his face a bit. His arms are crossed over his chest, and it has your skin on fire, he looks irresistible to you right now and it’s not fair.

“What are you here to do, exactly?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

You purse your lips, you know exactly what you want to do, you’re just feeling a little shy. Fuck it you think, and you shrug your own robe off your body, you’re completely bare beneath it.

Bi-Han’s eyes go wide, “What are you planning, sweet girl?” He’s breathless at your bare figure in front of him, completely taken aback by your uncharacteristic boldness.

You move over to his bed and sit down on it, propping yourself up against his pillows, “I’m going to touch myself and I’m going to make you watch.” You’re fighting against your own embarrassment, skin breaking out in a deep blush.

He looks entirely too pleased with this situation, “Mmm, go on then, show me how you touch yourself.”

“You can’t sweet talk me! that was one of your rules,” you point at him, “If you break the rules you lose,” you’re pouting at him.

He’s nodding his head, staring at your legs, waiting not so patiently for you to part them, “mmhm, I know, just spread your sweet thighs.”

You’re not sure if you should call him on that or not but since you’re also walking a thin line you let it go. He’s moving to sit at the foot of the bed, eyes never leaving your body as he does.

Slowly, you part your legs, and he lets out a quiet growl at the sight of your pussy, wet and wanting. Reaching down, your fingers run through your slick, spreading it all over your folds. You insert one finger into your hole, whining at the feeling, before you move it to your clit, rubbing small, controlled circles into it.

Little whimpers and quiet whines leave your mouth, you’re trying to hold in your sounds as you use your fingers to bring you pleasure. Looking over at Bi-Han you can see a thinly veiled animalistic look in his eyes, he’s trying to restrain himself. Feeling tortured by his inability to touch or even speak to you right now.

Your movements speed up on your clit and a gasp is ripped from you, Bi-Han’s staring heightening your pleasure.

“Ffuck – stop, stop.” He’s suddenly asking you to stop.

“Mmm, but I am so – ngh – close,” you don’t stop, your breaths coming faster and whines pitching higher, you’re so close to finishing.

Eyes wet with how close your high is, your other hand reaching up to grab your own breast. Bi-Han looks angry, his hand reaches out and rips yours away from your pussy. You whine in response to your pleasure being ripped from you at the last second.

“I told you to stop, shit.” He looks really angry, and you can’t help but feel a little smug, a small, suppressed, smile painting itself on your lips.

“You lost,” you tell him, though by how angry he is, you think he already knows that.

He squints at you with an accusatory glare, “wouldn’t have if you just fucken listened to me.”

“Yeah, but I wanted you to lose.”

He snarls at you, “you fucken win and now I’m taking you how I want.”

“Okay,” you smile brilliantly at him.

“Try not to be so pleased with yourself.” He’s hot when he’s grumpy.

But you can’t help it, you won, and he lost and now you can have sex with him again and feel victorious. It’s a good day to be you.

He moves over you and leans down, kissing you harshly, he pulls away but only to pull your mouth open and then he’s shoving his tongue into your mouth. You moan against him; you’ve missed his lips against yours. He’s being more forceful with you than usual, sexually frustrated and annoyed that he’s lost this arbitrary competition against you.

Pulling his lips from yours he starts kissing your neck, sucking deep marks into your skin.

“Bi-Han, not my neck, the others will see–”

“–Good, mine, you’re mine.” He sucks another mark into the centre of your collarbones, “Isn’t that right, my sweet girl?”

You nod your head, “Mhm, m’yours.”

The groan he lets out can be felt against your skin where his mouth is attached, he continues downwards. Sucking hickeys into your skin as he goes. He reaches your cunt and nuzzles his face into it, licking between your folds. His actions make you whine, back coming off the bed, his hand reaches up and pushes you back to the bed by your stomach.

Then he uses both hands to spread your thighs further apart, enough so that he can fit his shoulders between your legs. He turns his head into your thigh and sucks a mark there.

“Got such a pretty cunt, Mm gonna fucken ruin you,” your hole clenches at his words and he watches, he has a wolfish smile on his face at your reaction.

“God, fucken missed seeing how needy you are, love the way your body reacts to me,” he adds.

He’s driving you mental, “please,”

“Mmm? You need something, sweetie?” His tone is mocking, he knows exactly what you want.

“Want your mouth, on me, please?”

“Say you want my mouth on your cunt and then I might oblige.” He’s staring into your eyes, waiting for you to repeat his words.

It has you blushing again, it feels so filthy to say out loud to him, “I want your mouth on my cunt, please.” Your voice wavers as you mumble the words out.

You feel really exposed, legs over his shoulders as he looks at you, refusing to break eye contact.

“Not good enough, try again,” he has an amused look on his face, but his tone is serious.

You repeat yourself louder, “want your mouth on my cunt, please, Bi-Han,” you whine a little as you say it.

He chuckles at you, “all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He tucks his head down and licks along the length of your pussy, your back goes to arch again but he predicts that and moves his hand back to your stomach and holds you down.

His tongue enters your hole, licking into you before moving up to your clit, then he suctions onto it. Two of his fingers coming up to enter you, crooking them up into you, finding the spot he did last time and fucking into it.

You’re biting your lip trying to keep the noises in, head rolling back onto the pillows behind you. He removes his mouth from your clit but doesn’t stop his fingers.

“Eyes on me, do not stop looking.” He warns.

You aren’t focusing though, his fingers inside you taking you elsewhere. He pulls them from you and smacks your pussy at your lack of response, it has you jolting upright.

“Eyes on me, and stop biting your lip, wanna hear you.” His words slur together a little.

You look him in the eyes again, “yes, Grandmaster.” You mumble mindlessly, a little lost in the pleasure he’s given you.

“Fffuck, look at you, so pretty and dazed.” He moves his mouth back to your pussy, lapping at you like his last meal.

He’s eating you out with the conviction of a man who’s afraid he’ll never do it again, you maintain eye contact with him, but you feel like they might cross. You move your hands to his head, grabbing at his hair. He hums at the feel of your fingers pulling at him.

You’re getting closer to your peak; he stuffs his fingers back inside you and it pulls a loud moan from you. He groans into your cunt, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge. His fingers speed up as he sucks unforgivingly at your clit. Your moans come louder and faster, and then he pulls his mouth away to blow cold air on your clit, it feels sharp and has you coming with a yelp. Your hands move to grab at his sheets, attempting to ground yourself.

He’s pleased, watching you fall apart on his fingers, when you’ve come down from your high, he pulls his fingers from you. But he leans down again and licks up your cum, he keeps licking at you and you try to wiggle away from his unrelenting tongue.

He pushes you down and uses both hands to hold your thighs open, “stay fucken still.”

“Ngh – it’s too much Bi-Han, mm sensitive, please.”

“I know but you’re gonna take it.” He tells you.

He’s licking at you fervently, in your pussy hole, your clit, sucking on your folds, he’s lost in your cunt. He flattens his tongue against you and shakes his head and it has you coming suddenly against your will. A breathy whine pulled from deep inside your chest, the force of it bites at you, the feeling too much. Your grip on his sheets hardening, if you were more present, you’d worry about tearing them.

He pulls back satisfied with the way you’re squirming, he keeps his hands on your thighs, holding them apart.

He’s staring at your fluttering hole, “could suck on your pussy for the rest of my life.”

Your thighs are fighting against his hands trying to close, he lets go and lets you close them. You take a moment to catch your breath, the overstimulation sending shocks through your body. A sharp kind of pleasure.

Tears in the corners of your eyes, one falling, Bi-Han climbs on top of you and leans down, licking it away.

“You’re such a sensitive little thing.” He whispers to you.

Then he moves his mouth to yours, devouring you through a kiss. He kisses you until you’re reaching up to him, running your hands through his hair, and then tugging him away.

He pulls back from you, lips ghosting over yours, “What is it?”

“Want you, please?”

His grin is wide, “love the way you ask me for things, such a polite girl.”

He pulls back, resting on his knees as he undoes his robe, throwing it onto the floor, the sight of him bare makes your cunt jump and mouth water.

He locks eyes with you, “You’re staring.”

“Yes.” Is all you can manage, “you’re… beautiful.”

“Jesus woman, too nice, such a nice girl.” He leans down and pecks your lips, your cheeks, he noses at the side of your face before kissing your ear, neck, anywhere he can reach.

Your hands reach out to rest on his shoulders and your legs move to rest your thighs on his hips, pulling him closer. His skin rests against yours, and you hug him to you. Your face moves to the crook of his neck, and you place a kiss there.

His hips slowly start to grind into you, the sweet intimate moment broken by his dick slipping through your folds.

“Sooo, fucken wet, always so wet an messy, mmph,” he speaks into your neck.

You move your hips against him, the feel of his cock rubbing against you making you wetter, rutting yourself into him more, “Bi-han, need it, please.”

“ngh – you can – hah – fucken wait,” he’s teasing you, your punishment for winning.

You whimper as his dick continuously slides over your clit; his upper half pulls away so he can look down to where he’s rubbing against you. Enjoying the way your hips are raising to chase him.

Deciding to take mercy on you and himself, he grabs the base of his cock, and slips the head into you, “hah – I forgot how fucken – ngh – ridiculously tight you are.” He groans at the feel of you wrapped around him, “you’re so – mph – warmmm.”

“Bi-Hannn~” you moan his name; he keeps sliding into you at a leisurely pace, trying not to hurt you.

“I needa fuck you more often – nghh, keep this cunt ready for me.” His hands are back on your thighs, keeping you open so he can watch himself slide into you.

You can feel his dick twitching inside you, he’s turned on watching the way he’s splitting you open. He’s about halfway in when he starts rubbing your clit, moving a hand off your thigh to do so, “you needa relax for me, sweetie.”

Your pussy clenches around him, “that’s hard when you keep talking.”

“Mmm, love the way I talk to you, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” he knows, he just loves the ego boost he gets from hearing you confirm it.

Then he drives all the way into you, and it pushes a gasp from your lungs, a long-drawn-out groan comes from Bi-Han. His question was just to distract you so he could bully his cock the rest of the way into you.

He looks up to the ceiling and away from where you’re connected, “ffffff–”

You raise your hips to grind against him, clit rubbing against his pelvis, the full feeling has you seeing stars.

“Mpphh – stop, unless you want me cumming now.” He warns you.

You whimper at him but can’t stop grinding into him, he pulls his hand from one of your hips and pushes them down, holding you still. The way he can hold you down turns you on, you’re still trying to rut up against him though.

You whine his name, and he snarls at you, “hold fucken still, needy fucken–” Your cunt tightens around him, and he has to take a breath, his dick twitching in you.

He shoots you an angry glare, “I can’t help it,” you tell him.

He knows but he doesn’t want this being ruined because he came too soon. He lowers his body down and presses flat against you. Skin to skin, it has you preening, you wrap your legs completely around him, ankles connecting behind him. He sinks deeper at your movement and a guttural moan comes from deep in his chest.

Pulling his head from your neck he presses kisses all over your face before taking your lips in his again, kissing you deeply, passionately. Licking into you deliberately, taking his time. Then he starts gently pulling from you, moving in and out of you at a languid pace. His tenderness makes your heart sing, his pace is consistent, unrelenting, and makes your head spin.

Lips parting from yours he moves to your ear, whispering praises to you, “sweet girl – ngh – sweet cunt, tastes so sweet – mph – sounds you make are so sweet.” Soft clapping noises are filling the room.

The sounds in the room are a mix of the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises your cunt is making. It’s making him dizzy, he’s holding back, being gentle and sweet, always trying to remember to be careful with you.

“Grandmaster – hah – harder please, I want more, want all of it.” You tell him, trying to encourage him to let go, to fuck you how he pleases. Like how he promised.

“Mphh – fucken, whatever you want, sweet girl – shiii” He kisses your cheek, before moving his head back a bit.

One of his hands braces behind your head on the bed, the other grabs your hip, holding you against him tightly. He spreads his knees slightly and then he’s fucking into you at such an unforgiving velocity it leaves you breathless, weepy moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth in a broken manner.

“How’s – hah ngh – this?” he asks you, smirking cockily at you.

“good, sogood – mph – always so good Grandmaster.”

He speeds up more, something you wouldn’t have thought possible, “never letting you go, mine, you’re fucken – ngh – mine now, sweet girl.”

You feel overwhelmed, his words, the speed of his thrusts, the strength of them, it’s making you cry. Bi-Han notices and laughs, “too fucken much for you? Mmph – look so cute when you cry.”

You nod your head, eyes glassy as you look at him, tears slipping from the corner of your eyes. His smile is filled with pride, he loves that look on your face, never wants to forget it.

Your hand is grabbing onto his forearm by your head, the other scratching at his back, the feeling of your nails digging into his skin has him moaning. He looks down your bodies, watching where you connect.

“I’ve missed the way your – ngh – little cunt creams around me – mph,” he mumbles out, words slurring together, he’s getting closer to cumming.

Your pussy tightens around him, almost impossibly so, “cumming, mm cumming – hah–” You warn him, gasping moans leaving you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuck – nghh – you feel sooo – ngh,” He’s cumming too, pumping you full of his cum.

He keeps fucking it into you until you tell him it’s too much, then he’s leaning down and wrapping his arms around you. He takes you with him as he rolls onto his back. Leaving you resting on top of him, his cock still inside you, both of your releases leaking from your hole.

“Mmmm, I’ve missed you. Couldn’t say it earlier, might’ve counted as sweet talking” He whispers against you.

Your heart leaps at his confession, “I missed you too, a lot.”

“We aren’t ever doing this stupid competition ever again.” He looks you firmly in your eyes, trying to drive home his point.

“Yes, Grandmaster.” You joke with him.

But he groans in response, and you can feel his cock hardening inside you, it has you blushing and tucking your head into his neck, hiding your face.

He chuckles at you, “Shouldn’t have deprived me, it’s gonna be a long night for you, sweet girl, I’m nowhere near done with you and your sweet little cunt.”

❆˖°

A/N: Oh mi gosh, 🤭 Bi-Han went a lil crazy in this. I make no apologies, you asked, and I supplied. And again I’m glad so many people enjoyed my first part. I say this every time but please if you want another part, or if you have any thoughts, feelings, ideas, requests, please reach out! I love hearing from everyone, and I am more than happy to interact with people.

Part three

One lovely @belle-oftheball34 asked to be tagged, so here ya go <33

#subzero #subzero x reader #subzero smut #subzero x reader smut #bi han x reader #bi han x reader smut #fanfic #bi han x you #smut #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 smut

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supernaturalfreewill · 6 months ago

Text

Sam froze as he rounded the corner. "What is that?" he asked you.

"Hmm? What?" you asked casually.

He gave you a knowing look and sighed. "You stole it?"

"What?"

"It's literally poking out behind you on the left. I can see it."

You glanced down and swore under your breath. The handle was clearly visible. You gave up your rather poor attempt at concealment and brought it around in front of you.

Sam was shaking his head. "I have no words for you," he said, but he was smiling just a little.

"Well! You expect me to just walk past a beautiful sword like that?! I deserve a glorious weapon!" you argued, looking down at the emeralds set in the ornate gold hilt.

Sam laughed and crossed his arms. "For what exactly? I mean, in what scenario are you going to be wielding a sword?"

You paused thoughtfully. "Vampire nest." You made a dramatic slashing motion in the air.

"So... in your mind... you're going to roll into a nest with a sword and start decapitating vampires?"

"Precisely," you agreed with a satisfied nod.

"Not exactly subtle."

"Pfft... I've NEVER said that subtlety was my strong suit, Sam."

He gave you another fond smile and sighed, shaking his head. "This might be worse than Dean and the flamethrower. Guess we better check the storage room for a scabbard. Don't want you accidentally slicing someone..."

"Good idea."

"By the way, how the hell did you get it out of there without me or anyone else noticing?" he asked, giving you an impressed look.

"Oh, I'm very crafty. Devious. Sneaky. Don't forget it."

Sam gave up a hearty laugh, one of your favorite sounds in the world.

Prompt: "I have no words for you." / "You expect me to just walk past a beautiful sword like that? I deserve a glorious weapon!"

#funny supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam imagines #sam drabbles #supernatural #spn family #sam winchester x you

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amethystarachnid · 1 month ago

Text

LAZY DAY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Too Hot To Handle is mentioned because that shows makes me laugh so much, also y/n is on her period, mentions of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so Sirius' death

ᯓ★ Timeline: not in a defined timeline, just after the Avengers where formed

ᯓ★ Request: If it's still possible, I would like to request one too! For Tony with "grumpy x sunhine" I am the most grumpy girl in the morning 😂 and it would be amazing to have Tony to cheer me up with his amazing beauty and by giving me lots of kisses, cuddling in bed in the morning, making me breakfast and spending the day with me in bed 💗 ( @little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sound of the blinds whirring open stirs you from the fringes of sleep. You grunt, pulling the blankets over your head, already dreading the day before it even starts. Mornings have never been your thing, but today… Today is different. Today, you woke up with the telltale ache in your lower abdomen that screams it’s here. And as if on cue, you feel the heavy lethargy that comes with it—your period.

It doesn't help that you woke up to Tony Stark’s penthouse, basking in the golden sunlight streaming in through the windows—because, of course, he’s already up, cheerful as ever.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Tony’s voice rings out, way too chipper for your mood. You can hear the smug smile in his voice, and it grates at your nerves, even if you know he means well.

"Mmrf," you mumble incoherently from under the blankets, hoping he'll just take the hint and let you brood in peace. But no, Tony is… Tony. And subtlety isn't exactly his strong suit.

His weight dips the bed as he climbs back in beside you. You feel his presence hovering, the warmth of his body coming closer. Then, soft kisses. One on your shoulder, another on the nape of your neck. His stubble tickles your skin, but you’re too grumpy to be charmed by it. Not yet, at least.

"Come on, don’t hide from me." His lips trail up to your temple, and then another kiss, right on your cheek. He’s relentless. "I made coffee. Just the way you like it."

You groan again, burying yourself deeper under the covers. “Not now, Stark.”

“Aw, come on, I thought we were past the last-name thing,” Tony teases, his voice filled with playful hurt. “You’re killing me here. I come bearing gifts.” His hands smooth over the blanket that cocoons you, and despite your mood, his touch is soothing.

You’re not sure why it worked—him breaking through your defenses. Maybe it’s because he’s the only one who ever tried.

You met Tony a little over three years ago. Not at one of his infamous parties or on a whirlwind trip to Europe like you might expect, but at a quiet charity event. You were the kind of person who kept to yourself, volunteering quietly behind the scenes. Tony, of course, was the star of the evening, charming everyone in his path. Everyone except you.

He noticed immediately. You weren’t fawning over him, and that caught his attention. He was used to people gravitating toward his magnetism, and for you to seem completely unimpressed? That intrigued him. So, naturally, Tony being Tony, he made it his mission to get a smile out of you.

It took weeks. Weeks of him sending flowers to your office, dropping by with coffee, and pestering you with texts that ranged from the utterly ridiculous to oddly sweet. He was insistent, and even though you found him exasperating, something about his relentless positivity started to wear you down. You were the storm and he was the sunshine, determined to break through your clouds.

Somewhere along the way, you fell for him. Hard. But it was mutual. Tony fell for you, too. For the way you saw the world, for how you never let him get away with his usual antics. You kept him grounded, and he showed you it was okay to let the light in.

Now, here you are. Grumpy as ever, in his bed, while he’s trying to shower you with affection despite the fact you’re ready to bite his head off.

“I know you’re awake in there,” Tony murmurs, his voice softening as he slips under the covers with you. His hand finds your waist, tugging you gently against him. “I’m not going anywhere. You can hide from the day, but not from me.”

“I’m cramping,” you mutter, finally poking your head out from the blankets. Your face is probably scrunched up in irritation, but Tony only smiles, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Ah, the monthly monster strikes again,” he says sympathetically. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve whipped up something better than coffee.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a tiny smirk playing at your lips. “Tony, you’re not even allowed near the stove. Remember last time?”

“Hey, that omelette was edible,” he defends, making you snort. “Barely.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “First, we’re going to stay in bed all day. No meetings, no Avengers nonsense, nothing. Just you and me.”

You hum, the idea already starting to sound more appealing.

“Second,” he continues, his fingers brushing through your hair softly, "I'm going to give you approximately one million kisses. It’s scientifically proven to improve your mood.”

A small, reluctant smile tugs at your lips. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Tony replies, grinning as he leans in and starts peppering your face with light, playful kisses—on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally, your lips. It’s impossible not to laugh, and the sound escapes you before you can stop it.

“There it is,” Tony says triumphantly, pulling back just enough to catch your eye. “I knew I could make you smile.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite behind it. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, you love me,” he shoots back, his voice teasing but laced with affection. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

You bury your face in his chest, hiding the small smile that refuses to leave your lips. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

Tony laughs, a soft, warm sound that vibrates against your cheek, and he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

“Now,” he says, reaching over for the tray, “how about breakfast in bed? Then, we can cuddle and watch whatever cheesy rom-com you’re in the mood for.”

You lift your head slightly, giving him a skeptical look. “You hate rom-coms.”

Tony smirks, handing you a piece of toast. “I hate bad rom-coms. But I love you, so I’ll suffer through it.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he says, settling back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s part of my charm.”

Tony snuggles in closer, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist as he carefully balances the tray on his lap. You sit up a little, taking a piece of toast from the plate, though the idea of eating doesn’t really appeal to you right now. Still, you know he’s trying to make things better in his own way, and that’s worth something. You nibble on the toast to appease him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He strokes his fingers through your hair absently, the simple act soothing in a way only he can make it. The room is quiet, aside from the distant hum of the world outside Stark Tower and Tony’s soft breathing beside you.

For a moment, it’s peaceful. Then Tony breaks the silence, unable to help himself.

“So,” he says, voice playful, “what’s the plan after we finish breakfast? Want to binge some terrible reality TV? Or,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively, “we could finally finish that puzzle we started. You know, the one that’s only 90% done because someone”—he pokes your side—“gave up and declared it was impossible.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “I’m not finishing that puzzle, Tony.”

“But you were so close! Just a few more—”

“No.” You turn to glare at him, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just exhaustion. He notices, his teasing smile softening into something more concerned.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “We’ll skip the puzzle. Maybe just… rest, then?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, sinking further into him, suddenly too tired to care about anything other than the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tony’s hand moves to your lower back, massaging gently. It’s as if he knows exactly where the pain is the worst, his touch deliberate and comforting. You close your eyes, letting the tension in your muscles melt away. Despite the grumpiness that’s been clinging to you since you woke up, you can feel yourself softening against him.

He tilts his head down, his lips grazing your temple. “How about this,” he says softly, “we take the day one hour at a time. No plans, no pressure. If you want to just lie here, we lie here. If you want to nap, we nap. Whatever you need.”

You sigh, appreciating how much he’s willing to adjust for you, for the person you are on days like this. “You’re really okay with just doing nothing all day?” you ask, even though you know the answer.

“With you? I could do nothing for the rest of my life and be happy,” Tony says, his tone surprisingly sincere.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You? Not working for a whole day? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He grins, his fingers tracing circles on your arm. “Okay, okay, I might check a couple emails. But only a couple. Maybe one phone call…”

“Tony.”

“Alright! I’ll leave the work alone for the day,” he promises, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Scout’s honor.”

The warmth of his kiss lingers on your skin, and despite yourself, you feel some of the irritability start to slip away. Tony has always had that effect on you—making even the worst days feel just a little bit more bearable. It’s one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, how he could see through all your sharp edges and somehow make you feel seen, cared for.

You shift slightly, finding a more comfortable position in his arms. He takes the empty plate from your hand and sets it aside, his arm slipping back around you without missing a beat.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you ask quietly, unsure where the question comes from. “Taking care of me when I’m like this?”

Tony’s brow furrows slightly, but there’s no hesitation in his response. “No. Never.”

You give him a skeptical look, but before you can argue, he continues. “Hey, we’ve been through worse, haven’t we? You’ve put up with me for years now—there’s no way I’m letting a few grumpy mornings scare me off.”

You bite your lip, feeling that familiar wall start to rise, the one that tells you to brush off his concern and hide behind sarcasm. But Tony’s looking at you so earnestly, with that mix of affection and stubbornness that’s impossible to argue with. So instead, you let out a breath and nod, resting your head back on his shoulder.

“I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” you mutter, though there’s a hint of warmth in your voice.

Tony presses another kiss to your head. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

For a while, you just lie there together, the sound of his breathing steady and calming. You close your eyes, letting the dull ache in your body fade into the background. It’s not gone, not completely, but with Tony beside you, it feels manageable. It always does.

“Tell you what,” Tony says after a while, his voice soft and laced with mischief. “Why don’t we make this a thing? Once a month, we do nothing but stay in bed. No meetings, no saving the world, just us. I’ll even bring you breakfast every time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Once a month? You’d get bored after the first hour.”

He shrugs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. But I could think of a few ways to keep us entertained.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, and despite your grumpiness, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quips, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer.

You don’t reply, but you don’t have to. The way you relax into him, the way you let out a soft sigh of contentment, says enough.

The afternoon sun casts long, lazy shadows across the room as you lie nestled into Tony’s side, still wrapped in the cocoon of blankets. The tray of breakfast long since cleared, the only remnants of your morning now are the occasional crumbs you both keep brushing away. The TV in front of you flickers with the unmistakable chaos of a reality show, and despite your initial protests, you're several episodes deep into Too Hot to Handle.

"Okay, seriously," you groan, watching one of the contestants dramatically storm off after another contrived argument. "How are these people real? There’s no way."

Tony’s laugh rumbles against your back, his arm draped comfortably around you. “I know, right? It’s like watching aliens try to figure out human emotions.”

You snort. “Pretty sure aliens would handle this better.”

On-screen, another contestant confesses that they’re “not here to make friends,” to which Tony rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ah, the classic line. When are they ever here to make friends?”

“They’re not even here to find love,” you mutter. “They just want the prize money.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “And the Instagram followers.”

You half-laugh, half-groan as a new couple starts having a heated conversation about trust—again, for the third time in the episode. “This is torture. Why did I let you talk me into watching this?”

“Oh, I talked you into it?” Tony teases, giving your waist a playful squeeze. “Because if I recall, you were the one who said, ‘Anything, as long as it doesn’t require brain power.’ This show? Zero brain power required. It's perfect.”

You glare up at him, but the smile playing on your lips betrays you. “I hate that you’re right.”

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “It happens more than you think.”

You turn your attention back to the show, shaking your head in disbelief as the contestants participate in yet another ridiculous challenge. “They’re literally just being forced to sit on a beach and not make out. How is this a show?”

Tony chuckles. “Human willpower, baby. People love watching others struggle.”

“That’s not willpower. That’s just people being dumb,” you mutter, shifting against him to get more comfortable.

He shifts too, adjusting the pillows behind him, making sure you're completely settled before draping his arm back over your shoulders. “You know, if we were on this show, we’d be dominating,” Tony says, nodding towards the screen.

You shoot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “We wouldn’t even be on this show. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d avoid at all costs.”

“Hypothetically, though,” Tony continues, a mischievous glint in his eye, “if we were on this island or retreat or whatever… We’d walk away with all the money. Zero slip-ups. We'd be a power couple.”

You roll your eyes. “Please. You’d be the first one to break the rules.”

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I can control myself.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. You can’t even make it through a whole episode of this without making some comment about how ‘ridiculous’ it is. There’s no way you’d last.”

Tony leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “I’m very good at following rules… when I want to.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t let him see how much his words affect you. You shove him playfully, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “See? You’d crack under pressure.”

“Never,” he insists, though his grin gives him away. “But you? You’d be the real rule-breaker.”

You tilt your head, amused. “Me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says with a nod, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You act all tough and grumpy, but deep down? You’ve got a soft side. You’d cave the second they throw a romantic dinner at you.”

You scoff. “I’m not that soft.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, completely unconvinced. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. I’ve seen you cry at dog videos.”

You nudge him with your elbow, but you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “Shut up.”

Tony grins, pulling you closer, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “Face it—we’d be the most entertaining couple on the show. The producers would love us.”

“Because I’d be constantly yelling at you to follow the rules?” you quip.

“Exactly,” Tony says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You shake your head, laughing at the absurdity of the conversation, but there’s something about it that feels… nice. Even on a day like this Tony still manages to make you laugh, to make you feel lighter. It’s ridiculous, but it’s exactly what you need.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say, leaning your head against his chest.

“I am, actually,” Tony says, his tone suddenly softer, more genuine. “Every day.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget about the ridiculous show on TV. You look up at him, seeing that familiar warmth in his eyes—the same look he gave you the first time he told you he loved you, the same look that reminds you why, despite all his quirks and chaos, you fell for him in the first place.

You reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second longer than usual. “I’m lucky too.”

Tony smiles, the kind of smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is right, even when your body aches and your mood is sour. “So,” he says, voice light again, “do we keep watching, or do we switch to something less… terrible?”

You glance back at the TV, where yet another argument is brewing between contestants who probably won’t last past the reunion episode. “Let’s keep watching,” you say, surprising yourself.

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You’re getting into it, aren’t you?”

You sigh, leaning back into him. “No, it’s just… if I have to suffer, I’m dragging you down with me.”

Tony laughs, that infectious sound filling the room as he pulls you even closer, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And just like that, the afternoon drifts by, with the two of you lost in the ridiculous drama on screen, but more importantly, lost in the warmth of each other’s company.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the room in a soft orange glow, you’re still comfortably tucked into bed, your legs intertwined with Tony’s. The reality show marathon had finally come to an end—mercifully—and now the two of you are lounging in the blissful silence of the early evening.

Tony, ever the thoughtful partner, has already ordered takeout for dinner. You didn’t even need to ask; he knew you wouldn’t feel like cooking, especially today. “I got McDonald’s,” he announces with a proud grin as he taps away on his phone, tracking the delivery.

“Comfort food. Nice touch,” you say, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“You’re not gonna complain about all the fries I ordered?” Tony teases.

“Not today,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. “I’m going to hop in the shower. My body feels all… ugh.”

Tony’s eyes light up, his grin widening as he sits up too, resting his chin on his hand. “Oh? Shower, you say?”

You immediately catch the playful tone in his voice, and you shoot him a look, knowing exactly where this is going. “Tony—”

“Come on,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s been a lazy day, and I think we could both use a nice, hot, shared shower. I promise, I’ll behave.” He gives you an exaggerated wink that’s so over-the-top, you can’t help but laugh.

You shake your head, sliding off the bed. “Absolutely not.”

Tony pouts, shifting onto his knees as he watches you walk to the bathroom. “Why not?” he protests, though there’s no real weight behind his argument. “We’re in a committed relationship. There’s nothing wrong with—”

“I’m on my period,” you interrupt flatly, raising an eyebrow as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Tony pauses, his eyes narrowing in consideration before he stands and follows you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, refusing to let the conversation go. “So?” he says, shrugging. “Not like I care. I just want to be near you.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that. “Tony, I love you, but this is my one chance to have five minutes of peace.”

His grin softens into something a little more affectionate, though his tone remains light. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your ‘me’ time. But if you change your mind…” He leans in closer, dropping his voice into a whisper. “I’ll be right here. Ready.”

You can’t help but laugh, shoving him playfully toward the bedroom. “Go wait for the food, Stark.”

He gives you one last, overdramatic pout before retreating with a sigh. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Shaking your head, you finally close the door, the sound of Tony’s soft humming fading as you start the water. The hot steam begins to fill the small space, and you let out a contented sigh as you step under the showerhead. The warmth helps soothe the dull ache in your body, and for the first time all day, you feel a little more like yourself.

When you finally emerge, your hair wrapped in a towel and a fresh pair of pajamas on, the scent of fries and burgers has filled the room. Tony’s already settled back on the bed, the food laid out neatly on the tray between the two of you. He’s wearing one of his worn-out band t-shirts, the kind that’s been washed so many times it’s practically soft enough to sleep in.

“Look at that timing,” Tony says as you approach. “Hot shower and hot food all waiting for you. I should win some kind of award for this.”

You smile, climbing back into bed and settling next to him. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

He grins, popping a fry into his mouth. “I live to serve.”

You grab a burger and unwrap it, savoring the familiar comfort of the greasy food. There’s something about McDonald’s that hits differently on days like this, and you let out a satisfied sigh as you take the first bite.

Tony reaches for the remote, flicking through the movie options. “Okay, your choice—Harry Potter marathon or Lord of the Rings marathon? I’m letting you pick because I’m a generous, loving boyfriend.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully. “Harry Potter.”

“Good choice,” he nods approvingly as he navigates to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. “Though I may regret this later when you start crying.”

You roll your eyes, though you know he’s right. Sirius’s death always hits hard, but today, with your emotions running higher than usual, you know it’s going to hit even harder. Still, there’s something comforting about watching a movie you’ve seen a hundred times, where you know every scene, every line. It feels like home.

As the movie starts, the two of you settle in with your food, occasionally exchanging bits of conversation and laughter between bites. Tony sneaks a few of your fries, even though he has his own, and you flick a stray piece of lettuce at him when he teases you for getting emotional over Harry’s reunion with Sirius.

Then the fateful moment arrives. As Bellatrix’s spell hits Sirius, sending him tumbling through the veil, your heart clenches. You feel your throat tighten, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes.

Tony, of course, notices immediately.

“Oh no, here it comes,” he says softly, putting down his burger and wrapping his arm around you. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, leaning into him as your eyes stay glued to the screen. “It’s just so unfair,” you mutter, your voice thick with emotion. “He finally had someone. He was going to have a family again.”

Tony nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. It sucks.”

You curl into him more, the sadness of the scene mingling with your already fragile emotions. The tears start to spill over, and Tony just holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out. I’ll cry with you if you want.”

You laugh through the tears, wiping at your eyes. “No, you won’t.”

He grins, squeezing you gently. “Alright, maybe not. But I’ll be here while you do.”

For the rest of the scene, you cling to him, the sadness ebbing and flowing as you mourn the loss of Sirius for the hundredth time. Tony doesn’t say much, just holds you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He knows better than to try to fix it—he just lets you feel what you need to feel.

As the movie moves on and your tears subside, you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes and letting out a long breath. Tony reaches over to hand you a napkin, and you smile, taking it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you mumble, dabbing at your face.

He leans in, kissing your cheek. “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

With the worst of the tears behind you, you settle back into the comfort of Tony’s arms, the two of you snuggled up under the covers as the movie continues. The food is mostly forgotten at this point, but you don’t mind. The weight of the day, the grumpiness, the cramps—they all seem a little more distant with Tony by your side.

I'm sorry I just love Sirius so much that I had to put him here even if it's about his death...If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog (that's what keeps Tumblr posts going) and maybe leave a comment or a follow if you want! <3

Ivy Rose

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mrsoharaa · 8 days ago

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"Baby" the soft purr of Sugurus gentle, rasp voice lulls you from your lingering sleep, shifting yourself from the cozy couch and blinking your weighted tired eyes up at your tender boyfriend standing before you, you couldn't help but respond with a rumbled, groggy hum.

Carefully using the back of your balled fist of your right hand to mull away the remaining remnants of sleep from your hefty eyes.

"Sugu? I thought you were on a mission with Satoru? you're home so early...not that I'm complaining" you smile graciously with an extended yawn following suit.

Suguru simply hums in return, leaning forward to plant a subtle, loving kiss to your forehead. Admiring the cute little wandering strands of hair sticking all over your adorable exhausted face.

"I was, we got done pretty quickly, the curse we exorcised wasn't all that strong anyways and was easy to pin point out" he uses the vastly space of his left palm to comb back any of the cute strands of frizzy hair from your head, studying mauve irises swiftly peering over onto the Barou plush nestled ever so comfortably in the warmth of your arms. In his place.

"That's good, are you tired? you can take a nap with me" you apply with a hand pat next to you on the couch, Suguru replies with a low chuckle, a radiant tender smile flaunting down at you and your welcoming invitation of warm and endearing cuddles.

"I am actually a bit tired, but angel..." he drifts off, intent pupils skimming at the silly doll settling ever so cozily in his usual place. You tilt your head with confusion and follow his leering gaze. You giggle with a heartfelt grin.

"Sugu, he's just a plush" you began, watching the twitch in his cute brows furrow slightly, but still held that heart warming smile on his generous, beautiful face.

"He helps me sleep better" and that's all it took for Suguru to falter his gaze from the pesky fabric of stuff little annoyance within your arms to the gloss of your lidded eyes. His lips slumping into a slight line.

Was he...pouting? over a plush?

How cute!

You chuckle with more amusement in your pitched voice, noting the silly cute jealousy hanging on to that perfect expression.

"Baby-"

"No no, don't mind me" he raises his arms in a defeated manner, taking a step back.

"I'll leave it to you and your..." he glimpse back down to the daunting toy in your embrace. Sweltering annoyance bubbling within his chest at the smug-like expression the doll had on it's plush face.

"Companion...seems like I've been replaced...by a doll...who looks absolutely ridiculous" he dramatically swings his head to the right, sighing heavily to add on to his dramatic forefront.

You could only scoff with a imminent eye roll, pushing the doll to the side and opening your arms out to your overly dramatic, hot boyfriend putting on a silly facade before you.

Suguru, with his eyes closed and head still turned to the side, peeks open his right eye to be invited to the open availability of your sprouted arms. The adoring grin on your pretty face only making his heart swell in his firm chest. Glaring victoriously, over to the laid out Barou plush just sprawled across the couch.

Before he leans over to indulge into the safety and comfort of your arms, Suguru hovers over you carefully, takes the doll and tosses it onto the one seated couch next to you both.

"Really Suguru?" you huff with a breathy chuckle.

"He was taking up too much space on the couch lovely...plus, he was in MY spot, so yes, really angel" he simply smiles effortlessly down at you, crooning himself comfortably into the space of your welcoming arms. Gradually, carefully adjusting the two of you onto the couch and snuggling into each others warmth and subtlety.

#sorryyyy I couldn't help but make a jealous Sugu one too! 😭🥺#he's sooo silly and cute!!#big boys getting jealous over plushies/stuffed animals will always have my heart hehe 🥰💕#feeling extrasoft rn idk why but yeee jelly Sugu!! <333 #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk

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writeyouin · 1 year ago

Text

Mirage X Reader - Falling

Description (This was a request but it got sent to my PMs instead of my inbox by accident): When Alison Moyet's song Falling comes on the radio, Mirage is forced to think about you and his feelings towards you.

A/N – Yep, so another Mirage one for all of you desperately waiting for the film to come out on a good pirating site in top quality.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You stood at the sink washing dishes, a tune on your lips that you mumbled quietly to yourself, only half singing with your mind on other things like lost loves, failed relationships, and someone new in your life; Mirage.

“She said something like, I’m tired of me,” You sang Alison Moyet’s ‘Falling’, and then transitioned to whistling part more of the tune which had only come out a year prior.

Then, without the radio to follow, you reset to an earlier part of the tune, singing whichever little bits came to mind.

Little did you know, Mirage was spying on you, trying his best to imitate the stealthy way Arcee moved. Alas, subtlety wasn’t Mirage’s strong suit and he had already knocked over a row of garbage cans, and crushed some kid’s bike; he could only hope the bike wouldn’t be missed. Fortunately, among the usual noise and squalor of New York, nobody had cared about the sound or come out to explore.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be a creep by observing you. He just wanted to know more about your life and what you did. It seemed that in your day-to-day routine, you were obsessed with music. Bumblebee had already introduced Mirage to the concept of human music which was vastly different from the stuff that used to exist on Cybertron and Mirage liked it.

It was different from what he was used to for sure, but there were some songs he just couldn’t resist. The Twisted Sister song ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It,’ seemed to be a great Frag You to any Decepticon scum that attempted battle with him. And there was that one Bumblebee had introduced to him, ‘I Can’t Drive 55’, by that Sammy Hager fella. That was great, but Mirage was more than capable of beating that set speed and regularly did so when he wanted to bait the local authorities into a fun chase.

Still, he wasn’t sure he saw the appeal of this song. It sounded happy and sad at the same time, and he couldn’t decide which it was supposed to be with its New Wave vibe. Was it about falling, like it said? Falling for what? Mirage wasn’t sure, but you seemed to enjoy it. You hummed it quite a lot when you were thinking; he wasn’t sure you realised that you did that. It was one of the things he liked about you. It felt like you were letting your guard down when you hummed along to half a tune, and he enjoyed that you could feel so relaxed around him and the other Autobots.

Mirage might have called on you that night to ask you out on a drive; he liked your company. Alas, he got a message from Optimus telling him to return for the evening so they might meet the humans that Noah had been found by. Apparently, the new humans wished to discuss the possibility of an alliance with the Autobots.

Either way, Optimus’ message ended with, “Return to the rendezvous immediately.”

“Mirage, return,” Mirage mocked, impersonating Optimus. “Mirage, meet the humans. Mirage, I choose you.”

“Did I ask for your backtalk?” Optimus’ gravelly voice came through the radio.

“Scrap!” Mirage hurried to end the communication, having not realised that the line was still open when he had been joking around.

He transformed and raced off to the rendezvous point, any thoughts of you temporarily forgotten.

The next night, the Autobots stood in a unified line as they stared at their new base, a fully functional warehouse, with technology that they could use, even if it was primitive Earth tech.

“Optimus, can we trust these humans?” Arcee asked, her optics never leaving the building.

“We must try, Arcee. I see now that we have spent too much time working only for ourselves when we should have been working together.”

“Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it,” Bumblebee played from his speakers, using Journey’s immortalised words to convey his point.

Arcee looked past Optimus to catch a glimpse of Mirage, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mirage. Thoughts?”

Mirage marched himself in front of the trio, clapping his servos together as he began his speech, “Well, I mean, clearly there’s a lot to think about here. There are the new humans we know, we have to check the place for bugs, and of course, there’s the most important matter of all-” He took a few slow steps backwards, “- who gets the biggest room. I call dibs!”

With that Mirage spun on his heel and pelted towards the base. Bumblebee, unwilling to let Mirage have all the fun joined in the race and chased after his ally, though when he had just about caught up, Mirage jumped backwards, crashing into Bumblebee and knocking him over. Before he could sprint off again, Bumblebee grabbed Mirage’s ankle and the two began brawling on the floor.

Optimus walked past the wrestling bots with dignity befitting his position and a dismayed shake of his head.

Arcee took a few steps closer to her allies, resting her servo on her hip as she took in the show.

‘Scouts will be scouts,’ She thought mirthfully.

Eventually, the competition was over, with Bumblebee the clear victor, and after sitting on top of Mirage for ten minutes, he finally let him get up, but only after Mirage admitted that Bumblebee was the best Autobot and the supreme Earth expert.

After that, they raced through the base, checking out every nook and cranny, and wondering which exits they could exploit and sneak out of, should Optimus try to ground them from the drive-in again.

Eventually, Bumblebee and Mirage settled down, each picking out a portion of the warehouse that was just for them. All rooms had been modified with individual entrances so they could come and go as they pleased. Mirage had even been hooked up with some sweet racing posters. He set about decorating the room to his liking, letting his internal radio play as he did so. After switching channels, he stumbled across the song you liked so much.

Curiously, he let it play, trying to really listen to what the lyrics meant.

She said something like I want to go Down where the river's wild He said take me then I want to drown Deep in your violent eyes

Deep in your violent eyes? Was it a love song? If it was, it was the strangest one he had heard before.

He continued listening.

But I want to be sure of one thing That I'm getting into something peaceful I want to fly in on your wing Way, way up here I don't care for anything It's all in, and I'm not afraid I don't fear Falling

There was no doubt about it. The song was indeed about falling in love.

Mirage felt a sharp prick of indignation. Were you in love with someone? He had to assume so, considering that you didn’t seem to sing anything else. It was always this song. Who were you in love with, and why did he care so much?

He wasn’t sure, but the idea of you with someone else made Mirage’s engines rev and his face contort disgustedly. You were his buddy, his pal, his partner in crime. Why did you need some stupid, boring human, when you could hang out with him? Speaking of which, when was the last time the two of you had hung out of late? You hadn’t been together much since he’d been repaired. Well, with his room claimed and little else to do, Mirage decided that tonight was as good as any to get in some bonding time.

He transformed, revving his engine loudly as he waited for the automatic garage door to open for him. His wheels spun on the spot in a move that would have burned rubber on any ordinary car. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened enough for him to slip through and he sped off, ignoring every speed limit he came across; if Prime gave him the third degree about laying low later, he would claim ignorance and take whatever punishment he was given.

When Mirage got to your house, he honked his horn loudly, waiting for you to open your window and see him. He couldn’t transform into his root-mode while a few seedy humans lingered about, so he had to wait for you to get to him… presuming you weren’t with someone lame, like a crush you hadn’t mentioned.

At the commotion, you poked your head out of the window, grinning when you saw Mirage. You held up two fingers, indicating that you would be two minutes and then hastily got changed from your pyjamas back into your day clothes. Grabbing your keys, you ran outside and climbed into Mirage’s passenger seat, buckling up in case he decided to take off before speaking as he was prone to do; buckling up was indeed a wise choice as Mirage took speedily to the streets.

“So,” You asked casually, “Business or pleasure?”

“Have you ever seen me do business? Business is for the big guy, you know, never smiles, never shows me that underbite, the big OP,” Mirage sassed you.

“I dunno, you seemed pretty business when you fought Scourge for me.”

“For you? No, no, no, I was fighting Scourge just for the sake of being the tri-planet champion.”

“Tri-planet champion?” You repeated incredulously. “You only fought him on Earth.”

“Yeah, but he’s from Galvatron, the living freaking planet. He fought on the Maximals’ planet, and he came here. Count ‘em – One, two, three. So, I digress, Tri-planet Champion.”

“Well, technically Noah was the one to face off with him, so-”

“Yeah, while he was inside me.”

“Okay, but Optimus was the one who took him offline.”

“Look, Optimus is always gonna be the champion of frowning and hard stares, a class I can’t compete in, so this is my thing.”

“All right,” You held up your hands in mock defeat. “You’re the champion.”

“Damn straight.”

“…Is the Champion going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere, Anywhere the road takes us. Just sit back and relax. We could listen to some music,” Mirage suggested innocently, his hidden agenda on his processor.

“Sure, then I can be the champion of karaoke,” You bragged.

“Against my voice? In your dreams.”

“Oh, so you can fight, race, and sing? Triple threat.”

Mirage laughed and turned on his radio. He let a few songs play, letting you sing along while he distractedly kept his inner workings tuned on finding the Alison Moyet hit. It would likely play soon, considering its popularity.

After a few good tunes, Mirage managed to find the song and he switched channels.

“Oh hey, I’ve heard this one before,” He said nonchalantly, “This is that sappy love song, right?“

“I don’t think it’s that sappy,” You defended with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Does it make you think of someone special or something?”

You imagined how easy it would be to tell Mirage the the ‘someone special’ was him; as it turned out, it wouldn’t be easy at all. You clamped your mouth shut, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“So there is someone!” Mirage said all too accusingly. “You won’t be needing me anymore then, when this new person comes into your life.”

“You sound angry.”

“No I don’t!” Mirage replied huffily, proving your point. “You know what? I don’t think I like this song after all.”

He turned the radio off and the two of you sat in awkward silence. He kept on driving, slamming down on the accelerator. There was a lot of noise from honking cars as he sped in and out of their way.

“Just tell me who it is!” Mirage demanded petulantly when the silence finally got to him. “Is it Noah? He’s probably your type, right?”

“Why do you care?” You asked, annoyed and upset by the turn of events from nice drive to speedy interrogation.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you asking so many questions?”

“I just feel I deserve to know who it is.”

“NO YOU DON’T!” You yelled back. “THEY’RE MY FEELINGS”

“AND I’M YOUR FRIEND,” Mirage countered as if that ought to give him the right to know everything you thought.

“This is so stupid,” You breathed, shaking your head.

“Come on!” Mirage insisted. “Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me-”

Against Mirage’s frustrating onslaught, you finally yelled, “IT’S YOU!”

Mirage slammed hard on the breaks and you lurched forward, hissing as the seatbelt bit painfully into your collar bone. Fortunately, you were in an area with no cars on the road, having got off the interstate some time ago.

“What?” Mirage asked.

“It’s nothing, just… take me home, please,” You begged, scared now that you had said too much.

“You like me? Like romantically? You like me romantically? You romantically like me?”

“You done with the combinations?” You said bitterly.

“But I’m- I’m an alien.”

“Yeah,” You threw your hands up. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Now will you please take me home?”

Mirage transformed his arm, pulling you out of his chassis as the rest of his body followed suit. From his palm, you looked down to the floor, wondering whether it would be better to jump and get a concussion rather than have the embarrassing conversation that was about to follow.

“I don’t get it,” Mirage said, staring at you as if you were a complicated mathematics problem.

“I know,” You said, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as if it might protect you from the sorrow you were feeling.

“No, but like, I really don’t get it. I thought you were just a friend, and kind of cool but I think- I think I feel the same way, maybe?”

You watched Mirage guardedly, unsure as to why he was asking you when it was his feelings that were scrambled.

“Look, Mirage, you don’t have to pity me, okay? Please don’t test yourself on me. I know I’m not what you’d look for and-”

Mirage pressed his lips against yours then hastily pulled away. You stared at him, too scared to speak.

He nodded to himself, pecked your lips again, and then vented a quick puff of air from his systems.

“Yeah, yep, yes,” He stammered. “That- That was a feeling. A-ha. Yeah, so I just found out I have a thing for you too.”

“You serious?” You asked, making sure that Mirage was alright as he stumbled through a barrage of new feelings.

“Yeah, I uh- I get the song now. Still don’t love it, but I get it.”

“Seriously? You’re still thinking about the song?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about a lot of things at once here (Y/N), mostly how I’m going to explain this to Prime later, a little bit about how this is going to work, and yeah, the song slipped in there. Frankly, I think we need to get you more into Bon Jovi, but I guess this could be our song or whatever.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “This was not how I pictured any of this going.”

“Yeah,” Mirage nodded, pacing back and forth, the motion rocking you on his palm, “But at least we got a song, right? Most new couples got nothing.”

Despite your tiredness, you couldn’t help smiling at his straightforward manner of thinking, “Sure, Mirage. At least we have a song.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf #transformers rise of the beasts #optimus prime #bumblebee #arcee #mirage #mirage x reader #mirage x you #falling #alison moyet

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