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Wedding Crashers

Dick GaysonxFem!Reader

Word Count: 8.7k Contains: Shenanigans, dresses and heels, suits, romcom like banter. Mildly suggestive content. Bleeding, vague injury description. Summary: What starts with wedding crashing, fake names, and pretend stories, unfolds into something far more real, and impossible to ignore. Masterlist

Everyone has a hobby, your hobby just happens to be significantly more entertaining than the average hobby. Really, it involves a lot of pretending, free food, hoping they have an open bar, and dancing. Wedding crashing is an art, at least, it’s an art to successfully crash someone's wedding One that you have nearly mastered.

Don’t go to the ceremony, show up some time through the reception, you’re less likely to be noticed there when everyone is dancing and drinking than you are when everyone is completely sober. Unless it’s a dry wedding, then you just have to get really creative with your bullshit story of who you know and how you know them. 

It’s not something you can do super often, after all, you have to find the information for the weddings first, but a little bit of internet stalking and asking venues if they're available at a certain date solves that problem easily enough. Today, you’ve hit the goldmine. Not every wedding has an open bar, but this, this one certainly does. You didn’t even have to watch the bar to figure it out. 

It was simply to luxurious to not, the waiters were carrying crystal trays for fucks sake. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was some famous or rich person's wedding. Actually, it might be. You hadn’t cared enough to check, you’d just heard from a friend of a friend there would be a wedding worth crashing here tonight. 

Maybe your outfit isn’t as expensive as everyone else's, but you don’t think that you look like you don’t belong. The bartender had no issue forking over your first two drinks, and those attending who you hadn’t seen interact with the bride were more than happy to banter with you, anecdotes about the bride. Anecdotes you would use to build your made up stories when you inevitably ended up in conversation with someone who was actually important to the bride. 

OF course, naturally, one of the friends of the bride, (Not a bridesmaid, but she certainly wanted to be), seemed skeptical of you. Which was fine, you’d just have to avoid her. Everyone else was eating your bullshit up. Your bluff of choice for tonight was that you took a couple college classes with the bride, the two of you weren’t that close anymore, but you were more than delighted that she’d invited you to the wedding. 

Everything was going smoothly, until the wanna-be-bridesmaid caught you right outside the bathroom. You’d been drinking, and had broken the seal half an hour ago, so now you were stuck going to the bathroom more frequently than you would’ve liked. 

“I’ve asked around, and no one here knows you. You’re crashing her wedding aren’t you?” Fuck. Yet, before you could try to come up with a lie for why the hell you were here, an angel swooped in to save the day. The second you got a good look at him, you weren’t convinced that he actually was an angel. Nobody, absolutely nobody, had any business being that attractive. He was outdoing the Bride, and all he was wearing was a simple tailored tux.

However you hadn’t seen him around the wedding yet, either he was a guest and was extremely late, or he was crashing the wedding, just like you were. The way he smiled at the woman with the force of a thousand suns, and placed a hand on your back screamed confidence. “Sorry we’re late. She got caught up picking out which dress to wear.” 

Of course all it took was a hot guy flashing a smile, but hey, he was saving you from getting kicked out, so you played along. Stepping into his side, smiling meekly and nodding, “I can never decide when shopping so I got several and I just got these new earrings I wanted to wear. I couldn’t decide which dress went best with them.”

The stranger didn’t miss a beat, turning his head to you and softening his smile. Either he was really good at acting, or he actually thought you two were dating, because the way he was looking at you had your stomach fluttering and heart skipping a beat. Nobody had ever looked at you like that, and even if you didn't know who the hell this guy was, your body still reacted.��

“You could have worn a trash bag and would have been the prettiest lady here.” A pause and then his attention was turning back to the guest, “Other than the bride of course. Her dress is just dazzling isn’t it? There was no need to try to fake a flush at his compliment. It happened naturally. You weren’t even sure how you would fake a flush like that. 

His words seemed to do more than enough to dissuade the woman, “Of course! It’s my fault for assuming you were crashing. I’m so ditzy I forgot about plus ones,” And the woman was skittering away. Funny, how she’d been accusatory with you, yet the second this attractive stranger turned her attention on her she was just accepting whatever he said. 

Pretty privilege at its highest. Maybe you just needed to befriend an unreasonably attractive man so that he could get you out of these situations

 You watched the woman until she was out of sight, before exhaling and bursting out laughing. This really was a ridiculous situation. The type of thing you see in romance movies and never expect to happen in real life. So certainly this was going to end here. A cute anecdote to tell your coworkers and friends, nothing more. 

“Thank you. Had you not stepped in I would have missed my third round of free wedding cake.” 

He didn’t move his hand off your back, but he did smirk, “Well, I couldn’t let such a pretty lady suffer such a tragic fate. Someone has to protect cake connoisseurs.”  He nudged you back towards the main room where everyone was dancing and talking, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Besides, I think I technically qualify as a guest. The bride is either my distant cousin…or my former babysitter. Honestly, I might just be someone’s plus one who wandered too far from the bar. Either way, you’re my plus one now.”

Clearly you were wrong, and this happened in real life too. The charming, attractive, helpful guy took an interest in you, and within minutes he had you laughing again. 

You knew he was lying, his story was so blatantly a lie, but you didn’t care, and let him rather expertly heard you towards an empty table for two. There were cards on the table, cards that certainly did not have your name on them, but he expertly pushed them away and then pulled out your chair, half bowing with a flourish. 

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“What sort of fake date would I be if I didn’t pull your chair out for you and fetch the next round of cake?”

“A terrible one, truly awful. Saving a damsel in distress. You’re missing the next round of drinks though, one must take advantage of the open bar.” The conversation was easy, light, joking, certainly not what you had expected to find tonight. Yet, you found yourself smiling at him, enjoying yourself more than you were anticipating already. 

And the night was only beginning. 

“You’re so right.” His grin still hadn’t disappeared, but he took a step backward. “Stay  here. I’ll complete my duty and return with something fizzy and questionably garnished.”

“How do you know what I want?”

He paused mid-step, flashing the same grin at you that he had given the bridesmaidzilla, you definitely understood why she had backed down and let him go now. How anyone could say no to that sort of smile was beyond you. It was lucky he wasn’t using it for evil. “I don’t. But I'm confident enough to guess. Which is either charming or dangerous. I’ll have to wait for the jury’s decision on that one.” 

You should have been ashamed, but as he disappeared into the crowd you found yourself looking at his ass. Not only was he unfairly handsome, he had a fantastic ass, and his tailored suit only accentuated it even more. Life really was unfair, wasn’t it?

A few minutes later he returned with two plates of cake balanced on his arm like he was a waiter at a restaurant who had spent too much time carrying more plates than hands could possibly hold, and two glasses in hand. He slid the cakes onto the table easily before holding the drinks out to you.

One of the drinks had a sprig of something green stuck in it like it was a tiny tree, and the other looked like plain champagne. “Option A: something botanical and pretentious. Option B: the safest bet in the room, the choice is yours m’lady.”

You found yourself giggling again at his choice of words. But you still chose the champagne leaving him with the questionably colored drink with a miniature tree, “I’ll take the one that won’t start a garden in my mouth.”

He mock-gasped, dramatically falling into his chair, holding one of his now empty hands over his chest as if you had mortally wounded him. “For someone crashing a wedding, you strangely have no sense of adventure.” He paused, then held his own glass toward yours for a toast. “Y’know, I feel like we’re two minutes away from getting engaged for the free drinks. Might as well give each other names before the vows.”

Embarrassingly, you snorted at his joke. Maybe he found that cute, you didn’t ask.  “Is this where I find out your name is Steve?”

“I was going to give you a choice between first name basis or fake names, but now I think you only deserve to know my fake name.” His tone was teasing, light, you got the sense that if you asked for his first name, he’d give it to you anyways. 

“Code names are way more fun anyway. It keeps the mystery of the whole situation. Makes it feel risky.”

He leaned across the table towards you, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips again, “you’re so right, risky is always more fun.”

You reached a hand out towards him for him to shake, before giving him the fake name that you used for every wedding that you crashed, “Lila Hart. Social chameleon. Occasional damsel.”

He took your hand, “Blade Dusk. Professional plus one. Amateur cake thief.”

For the second time that night since meeting Blade Dusk, you burst out laughing, “Are you a real person or a vigilante-themed perfume line?” Blade Dusk, sounded nothing like a real person's name, and somehow, that made the fact that was what he wanted you to call him so much better. 

“Why not both? Imagine the ads.” He cleared his throat, deepening his voice to put on his best suave advertisement impression he could, “Try Blade Dusk now! For the sharp and sophisticated.”

This strange man that you had run into was certainly charming. Dangerously so, considering you were drinking with him and the weddings you crashed were where you truly let go. A break from the rather boring life of being a receptionist. He was fun, flirty, and overly attractive. 

How was any wedding you crashed after this going to top this one? 

“So then Lila Hart, when we’re asked how we met, what should we tell people? As such an alluring couple, we need to have an equally dazzling meet cute.” He leaned back into his chair, pursing his lips, the rest of his expression perfectly serious, coming up with his answer before you had a proper chance to respond, “We met when I was rescuing a cat from a tree.”

“You don’t strike me as a cat person.”

He sipped his drink, the same smirk from earlier playing at his lips once again, “She was very judgmental, exactly like you. I named her Brenda.”

“You named the cat Brenda? I could have come up with a better cat name than that.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “No, clearly I named the old lady who the cat belonged to Brenda. The cat was named Wrath. "You nearly choked on your drink when another laugh bubbled up mid sip. “Okay, fine, if you think you can do better then you try to come up with a dazzling story for how we met.”

You leaned in with a faux-dramatic whisper. This was going to be a whole performance, he’d given you a challenge, and you weren’t going to back down from a good challenge. “We met when I punched a guy at a flower shop.”

He squinted at you, “Very romantic.”

You put your hands up in the air dramatically, “He cut in line and tried to mansplain peonies to me, he deserved it! Then,” You turned your head to the side, speaking to an invisible audience member as fake as your invitation to the wedding, “ This one,” an accusatory finger pointed toward Blade, “clapped.”

He nodded, turning his attention to the fake audience member as well, playing along with your performance without so much as a blink, “Loudly, then I paid her bill for the flowers.”

“I took the flowers and ran.”

You almost expected him to stop playing along there, but he continued, “And I fell in love instantly.” He sighed, leaning back into his chair again and placing a hand over his heart, taking another sip of his drink and adding, “How could I not.”

You were giggling again. “Truly, a hallmark classic.”

“We’ll have a lifetime movie by next week.” He cleared his throat again, moving back into the same voice that he had used for the advertisement, “Come see Punched By Love in theatres near you. She just wanted peonies, he wanted justice. Together, they found something deadlier- romance.”

You bit your cheek to stop from laughing, but the sound still infiltrated your next words, “Clearly Petal to the Metal is a better title, do I at least let a slow-mo scene where I turn around with a bouquet and dramatic lighting?”

“Absolutely. Wind machine blowing on you, the whole works. Naturally it’s the same scene where I’m running to you in a soaking-wet suit.”

That earned another laugh, “Why are you wet?”

“I fell into a fountain.” He held his glass out to you, chuckling along with you,  the two of you now in a fit of giggles as you clinked your glasses together. “Petal to the Metal will have to be our wedding hashtag now.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m marrying someone who thinks ‘Wrath’ is a good cat name.”

“You say that now,” he leaned over the table toward you, “But wait until I introduce you to the dog. After a slow dance with my lovely wedding date, of course.” The song playing had transitioned into a slow dance, and you were having so much fun that you hadn’t even noticed. 

This was the first wedding you’d crashed that you found someone to slow dance with successfully. At least, someone that wasn’t a child.

You don’t hesitate, slipping your hand into his now extended one, abandoning your now empty flute of champagne and letting him lead you toward the edge of the dance floor. He steps closer, settling one of his hands at your waist. It was broad, steady, and comfortably warm. 

He leads the dance effortlessly, moving together in a slow, easy rhythm, entirely too comfortable for a wedding that neither of you were invited to. There’s still space between you, but it’s closing slowly with each step of the dance. The laughter between the two of you from just moments before had faded, replaced by quiet. 

He’s a good dancer. Certainly a better dancer than you were, at a minimum, he was much more graceful than you. 

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

His expression shifts, he’s still smiling, but it’s not as bright and cheery as before, gentler, older, a remnant of something unspoken. “Not since…a long time ago.” He doesn’t sound like he’s pretending anymore. 

You’re pretty sure that you aren’t pretending either, ignoring the other people around you. It’s only the music, his hands, and the weight in your chest that hadn’t been there before. You take the last step and close the remaining space between the two of you, resting your head against his shoulder. 

You don’t speak, don’t need to. Just dancing along to the music with him until the tone of the songs changes. Even then, the two of you don’t stop dancing, the wobble, the cha cha slide, the chicken dance, just jumping, swaying, and him spinning you. Time blurred together, drinks blurred together. 

The next hour or two was warm gold and laughter, whatever drinks Blade brought back that he thought you’d like, at one point he stole a centerpiece of one of the tables. You hadn’t even asked about it, just raised your brows at him. He grinned and claimed it was “for symbolic reasons. It’s not like they’re going to use it after this”. You weren’t sure that it didn’t belong to the venue itself rather than the couple. 

As attractive as he was, it was bound that at some point someone was going to steal him away from you. And someone did, dragging him into a group dance. You slipped away, unnoticed, stepping onto a balcony. The music was still audible behind you, the air cooler on the balcony. 

Not that it bothered you, you had indulged in more than enough champagne that you felt warm, even if the air outside wasn’t. 

Your heels had come off at some point, leaving you barefoot, breathing in the faint scent of someone else's cigarette that had been smoked here recently. 

“Should’ve figured I’d find you out here,” Blade, you hadn’t heard him come out. HIs voice was quieter than it was inside, no longer needing to speak over the noise of the reception. 

You glanced back at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, his Jacket had gotten lost at some point during dancing, undershirt half -untucked. Significantly messier now than when he had introduced himself to you as Blade Dusk. Yet somehow, he was more attractive this way, previously pristine and now slightly sweaty from all the dancing you’d been doing. 

Your state was likely similar, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Tonight had been fun, and it was sad that the night was ending. You wished it could just go on forever. 

“Needed air, and a break from our Oscar campaign.”

He stepped forward, leaning on the railing next to you, attention rapt on you, nothing else. “I was starting to lose the plot anyway.” A beat of silence, then he was speaking again. “I lied earlier. I’m not related to anyone here. Not the bride, not a plus one. Not even a very charming distant cousin twice removed.”

“It was sort of obvious.” You were smirking at him now, finally your turn to give him a smug look. 

That got a soft laugh from him, one that faded too quickly. “Guess I'm not as smooth as I thought.” Another beat passed. “Truth is, I come to these sometimes. Not often. Only when I feel like I’m forgetting what happiness looks like.”

“You…watch people's happiest day of their lives to remind yourself love exists?”

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it wasn’t with a joke like you had come to expect from him throughout the course of the night. “I don’t get invited to many weddings. Most people I love don’t make it that far.”

The words sat between you, heavy. Even if you had spent the night laughing with him, you really didn’t know who he was, didn’t know anything about him. Despite that, something in your chest cracked open for him anyways. 

Unable to find the words, you didn’t say anything, just stepped a little closer, and without thinking about it, you kissed him. Clumsy, off center, and more than a little drunk, but it was warm. He kissed you back, wrapped one hand around your waist, tangled the other in the fabric of your dress. 

The kiss wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t slow, and it certainly wasn’t careful. Two drunken strangers kissing, that's what it was. Yet somehow, it was the best kiss that you’d ever had. 

You paused, mumbling into the kiss, “I think I’m drunk.” You didn’t move away though, neither did he. Lips still pressed together. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Neither of you moved. 

Neither of you wanted to.

You’d slept off what was inevitably going to be a hangover. You slept so long that when you woke up next the sun was already setting again. You were still in your dress from the wedding, one earring missing, eyeliner running, lipstick smudged. But hey, at least you didn’t have a headache and you didn’t feel like throwing up. 

Downside, you didn’t remember getting home. You also didn’t remember anything that happened after you kissed the sexy stranger - Blade - on the balcony of that venue. 

Realistically, you should get up and shower. But you don’t get out of bed, laying there and staring at the ceiling. You weren’t going to just stop crashing weddings when you had the chance, no. But you really didn’t think any wedding you went to after this could top this one. The night had been perfect. Quite literally perfect. 

You were entirely sure that when you told your coworkers, friends, family, whoever, about the night they would think you were making it up. Hell, you could actually pitch it to some movie studio and it could become the next big rom com. 

A damsel in distress being saved by a charming stranger, joking at a table while stuffing your face with cake, dancing the night away, ending it on a kiss (even if the kiss was because he was sad).

It almost didn’t feel real. It was too perfect. Maybe you were entirely delusional and had simply made the man up in your drunken state. Maybe the venue slipped something into your drink. Maybe, just maybe, you were just hallucinating for no reason. If you did, you seriously needed to get a new therapist. 

But it felt real, somewhere, somehow, you knew it was real. There were no photos on your phone, no proof. Yet somehow that was okay. It was a memory to be cherished by you, and Blade. And nobody else needed to have any opinions on the night. 

The fake names, they were just the cherry on top of everything. Lila Hart was going to have to be retired, you’d need to come up with a new fake name. She could end the night with Blade Dusk, as ridiculous of a name as you got, and be happy. You, well you had to go back to your boring ass receptionist job in the morning. 

You weren’t the only one thinking about the previous night. 

Dick - Nightwing - was done with patrol, yet despite that he found himself laying on the rooftop of some random building, and staring up at the sky like it held some sort of answers for him.

He’d crashed weddings before, so why had this one been so different? The kiss maybe? The fact that you’d been willing to let him pretend to belong there? “It was sort of obvious” , yet you were perfectly content to let him play pretend with you for the night. 

And you liked him, enough to dance with him, flirt, play. That's what it had been, a game. A sweet, enjoyable roleplay, without any of the sexual aftertext. That's why  the two of you had ended the night with no way to find each other. No phone numbers, no real names, no real information exchanged. 

The only souvenirs he had were an earring he slipped off you before you ran off in a taxi like you were fleeing a crime scene, and the centerpiece he had stolen. Well, not really stolen. It wasn’t stealing when your adopted father owned the venue.

There were definitely more entertaining jobs than a receptionist at a blood donation center. But hey, it paid the bills. It paid surprisingly well actually. Most days you end up playing a solo game of “How Long Can I pretend to Work?”.

 Your entire job is to make sure people get checked in for their appointments before going to the intake nurse, and making appointments on the phone. Why the hell people made appointments when it was a walk-in thing? You weren’t really sure. But they did, on occasion. 

The door to the building opens, but before you have a chance to look up “Lila Hart,” Even after just one night a month ago, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, “The most scandalous receptionist in the tri-state area.” 

He’s somehow already leaning over the desk toward you like he’d been here for five minutes. Sunglasses still on, hair perfectly in place, lopsided grin, and a velvet box between his fingers. Your day was already wildly more entertaining than it was before. 

“Blade Dusk. Still going by that ridiculous name?”

“Only on special occasions. Like when I return earrings I took right out of a beautiful womans ear. Very romantic, very bold of me.”

You look at the box for a moment, before snatching it from his fingers, flipping it open. Sure enough, he had put your missing earring - that he’d apparently stolen without you remembering - in a ring box. “You literally stole jewelry off my body.”

“Don’t make it weird, Lila. It was the same thing as the centerpiece I took. A borrowed memento, like a very suave, very emotionally-well adjusted thief.” The same teasing, lighthearted tone that he had at the wedding was present. Yet you found yourself playing along, disregarding the fact you were supposed to be working, you were supposed to be being professional for the moment. 

“And that very suave, very emotionally-well adjusted thief returns the earrings he takes?”

“To donate blood actually. The earring was just a happy accident. Getting to flirt with the pretty receptionist is always a bonus,” You couldn’t tell if he was lying, or if it was just a coincidence he was here. But if it was a coincidence he was here, had he been carrying the earring around with him for the entire month just hoping that he’d run into you again? 

“You do realize this isn’t a bar, right? You don’t flirt your way through blood donation.”

“Oh sweetheart, that sounds like a challenge.” And with the wave of your hand towards the intake nurse, and he walks over her way. It’s fascinating really, watching him charm the intake nurse, purposefully botch the health questionnaire so he has to redo it three times, and stretch out in the donation chair like it’s his own personal throne. 

Halfway through the draw he calls over to you with a dramatic sigh, “Lila? If I don’t make it, tell the next bride she was a close second.” 

Your coworkers were so going to have questions about this later. But for now you just rested your chin in your hand, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, pretending to be busy so that you don’t have to respond. 

When he returns he has a fresh bandage on his arm and a juice box in hand. Leaning back over the desk again, this time as far as he could possibly get to you before it would officially be weird considering there was a counter between the two of you. “So, there’s a wedding next weekend. Outdoor venue. Very tasteful, or maybe tacky, there’s no way to tell until we see the cake.”

“Planning on crashing another one so soon?”

“Only if my favorite co-conspirator says yes.”

He has you laughing again. What in the world is going on? You didn’t even have champagne to blame this time. “You really don’t know when to quit.” You had officially decided you didn’t want him to quit though. This was significantly more fun. 

“Never. Especially not with a girl who fake-flirted with me in front of an entire wedding reception we weren’t invited to, then fled the scene like a very attractive fugitive.”

You shake your head, but there's a smile spread across your face that you just can't help. You’d failed to act like this wasn’t the highlight of your week, if not month. This certainly wasn’t professional, but he was the only donator in the building for the moment. “I’ll go, but I get to pick your next fake name.”

“Deal. But only if you can top Blade Dusk . It’s going to be hard.”

“That’s what she said.” Damn, you were trying to cut down on middle school grade humor. And you’d been doing so well lately. 

“I love it when you talk to me like a middle school boy.”

You slid a post it note and a pen towards him, “Write down the details and I’ll meet you there. If you can find me, that is.”

He scribbles the information down on the post it, folds it once, then flicks it back across the desk. “No GPS. No backup. Just vibes.” He starts backing away towards the door, “Don’t be late Miss Hart.”

The post-it note went into the same pocket as your newly returned earring. 

You show up to the next wedding the same way you do every wedding. A little while into the reception. Whoever was in charge of this wedding definitely had a pinterest board titled “elevated whimsy”, string lights, white marble panels on the lawn for the dance floor, an entire jazz quartet playing a song you don’t recognize. 

You don’t look for Blade, no, you let him come to you, a challenge to come find you, just as you had told him at your job. He - quite literally - appears from behind a hedge, with two champagne flutes, and grinning like he’s been waiting to deliver this line all night. Maybe he had been.  “Lila Hart, you’re late. I was beginning to think I got stood up by my favorite fake girlfriend.”

“You have multiple fake girlfriends? I thought I would be more than enough.”

“You are,” He hands you one of the flutes of champagne, offering you his million dollar grin, “But I'm dramatic, and I needed to make you jealous.”

“Of an imaginary harem?”

“Of course, but we’re exclusive, promise. Just me, you and a few stolen napkins.”

You don't mean to, but you still laugh at him. “In that case I was very jealous.” 

He offers you his arm like it’s an old habit, like you two have done this a million times. As if it was a routine, even though it’s something you’ve only done once before, and that was by accident, unplanned. This time is different, you find yourself wondering how the night will end compared to last time. 

“You clean up nice Blade,”

“Please, it’s Maverick Thorn, if we’re going by tonight's registry. But you will always be the stunning Lila Hart.”

You mock a gasp at him, “You went rogue on me.”

“You were late. I panicked and told the bartender my name was Maverick.”  Despite his accusatory tone, he leads you to one of the tables, one full of strangers and you sit down. Even without a plan in place, the two of you lie in tandem perfectly. Pretend to know the bride’s college roommate, the silly story about punching a guy in a flower shop, your shared dog named Pickles. He even goes so far as to make up a back injury that leaves you participating in a conga line by yourself.

For payback you tell someone his real name is Horace. 

It’s stupid. 

It’s ridiculous. 

It’s perfect. 

It’s not long until he’s leading you out onto the dance floor, shoes clicking against the marble. Just like the lying, he holds you like he’s done it before, like you fit there. As if this isn’t all one big elaborate game of pretend that you’ve started with a stranger. One of his hands is on your wait, the other holding your hand, fingers locked together carefully. 

You try not to look too pleased. To not let the line between make believe and reality blur together too much, but you fail. Everything is just too perfect, too romantic. The music is slow, not so slow that it is sleepy, but enough to be intimate. You find yourself leaning in towards him, closer than you have to be. His hand slides down on your back, you let it. 

“Are you always this good at pretending to be someone's date?” Your voice is low, almost a whisper. The volume it would be if you were whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

“Only yours.”

You roll your eyes, you aren’t smiling, except you most certainly are, and he’s most certainly seen his. His expression changing to match yours. He spins you once, not flashy, just smooth and simple, and you laugh in response. Breathless when he pulls you back in close, closer than you were before. 

“If I start falling for you,” You murmur, “can I blame the open bar?”

“Sure,” He lowers his head, lowering his voice with it, mouth practically rubbing against your cheek, “But we both know it’s the dancing.”

You’re about to respond, something clever, something safe, something true, you aren’t sure what you were going to say. But someone interrupts, and you’re almost grateful for it, someone breaking the illusion so you don’t have to come up with an adequate response to the words you hadn’t even meant to be audible. “You two are just darling, when’s the big day?”

You freeze, body tensing automatically, brain flipping through a thousand possible replies. There’s no reason the idea that the two of you are engaged should be as terrifying as it it, you’re already here with him, and according to the fake stories that you’ve told through the night you already live together and have a dog together who you both care for like a child. 

But before you can say anything, he speaks up, “Still figuring it out.” He says it so casually it’s almost aggravating. Not like the words didn’t mean anything, but like it was second nature. And it seems to do more than enough to please the woman, letting out a delighted hum and floating away.

And you’re stuck there staring at your own hand, held by his, fingers intertwined, like it belongs there. You rip your attention back up to him, and he seems perfectly calm, even as he leads you away from the dance floor and towards more champagne. 

“That was bold.”

“So was the dress. You set the tone, I followed.”

“You just lied to someone's grandmother.”

“I gave her a beautiful memory, you’re welcome.”

You should laugh, you should roll your eyes. You should do something that distances this from reality, tows the line between the long elaborate bit that you’re doing, and your actual emotions. But it’s too late for that, somewhere along the way you’ve already crossed some sort of invisible line. “You know that wasn’t part of the bit,” You’re quiet now, the entire moment has slipped into something more intimate, “That line, the way you said it.” 

He looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes roaming over your facial features. “Yeah, but I wanted to say it anyway.”

You’re still holding hands, and you still don’t know his real name. But he’s not asking for yours either. Nothing about the story you’ve woven tonight is real, but somehow, despite everything, he’s real, he’s here, and so are you. You let that comfort you, let your thumb brush lightly over his knuckle. 

He doesn’t let go, and neither do you. 

It’s sometime after midnight when the two of you slip out of the side gate, both of you are drunk, having had more than your share of champagne. Your heels once tolerable, have declared war on your feet. They aren’t even the most impressive heels that you have, after all, outdoor venues and heels don’t mix well. Yet your feet are still protesting with every step you take. 

Once Blade, now Maverick, notices and stops mid-stride. “Give me your shoes” he says

“Excuse me?”

“Your heels, hand them over.”

“You’re serious.”

“Always.” That statement was certainly not true. But still, you slip off your heels and hand them over to him. Despite being relieved of your shoes, he scoops you into his arms, one under your knees, the other behind your back, and just starts walking down the street like this is normal.

Nothing about this is normal. But nothing about him has been normal, not a single thing since the moment you met him, and you have rather willingly continued with the bit, long past when anyone else would have stopped. 

“This is ridiculous.”

“You say that, but you’re not asking me to stop.”

You aren’t, not even a little. You’ve gone so far as to let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. It’s because of the champagne, it’s because of the ache in your feet. It’s certainly not because it feels good, because he smells like clean laundry and expensive cologne. It’s certainly not because his grip is gentle and it's making your chest feel all floaty and traitorous. 

You speak again after a block, “So, how long have you been fantasizing about carrying me off into the night?”

“Since the first wedding,” His voice is steady and sure, something about his tone makes you think he’s genuine, “I just didn’t think I’d get the chance without kidnapping charges.” The joke tacked on at the end makes you snort, and he grins at you like that was the whole point. 

He walks three blocks like that, not asking if you had anywhere to go, simply carrying you away from the venue, acting like it's the most natural thing in the world. He finally sets you down on the curb underneath a neon sign of some small diner that's still open this late. Your shoes are set down next to you, and he shrugs off his jacket, laying it over your legs without a word. 

He just had to be the best date you’ve ever had, didn’t he? Even if it was all fake. 

“You really committed back there,” you weren't entirely dropping the bit. You still weren’t going to give him your real name, not yet. Not if this game could go on longer. A much more glamorous version of yourself. 

“You wore glitter, I had to rise to the occasion.”

You bump your knee against his. He bumps yours back, and you both stare ahead like you haven’t been tiptoeing around something that stopped truly being a game an hour ago. 

“I don’t get invited to happy things often,” his voice is soft, almost distant, the words nearly sounding like they aren’t for you, “You’re making me greedy for them.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

He doesn’t respond, neither of you look at each other. He wasn’t trying to charm you with the words, they just were. So you reach out and hook your pinky through his and sit there for a while, longer than you should. 

“I should call a cab.”  He doesn’t argue, and with your free hand you open up your phone, using the most consistent app for this part of Gotham to call one. The only safe one actually, thanks to Wayne industries. As much as you heard about the Waynes from various people, you purposefully didn't pay attention. Billionaire drama just didn't interest you. Your time could be better spent finding more weddings to crash. But the app was helpful. 

He doesn’t let go of your pinky though, not until the cab is pulling up and he’s hastily reaching into his jacket - still on your lap - pulling out a pen and scrawling a number across your arm with it. “Text me, If you want another date.”

“You mean another wedding?”

“Same thing at this point.” You smile, moving to stand up and give him the jacket back when he shakes his head, “keep it. Just in case you decide you don’t want another date. That way you’ll still have something to remember me by.”

You can't help the soft smirk that you look at him with, “What makes you think I’ll want a souvenir from a fake fiancé?” 

“Because I looked great in that jacket, and I'm emotionally generous.” 

You roll your eyes, and glance at the cab, but bend down towards where he’s still sitting on the curb. You’re barefoot, and tipsy, and not sure if this is the end of a lovely memory, or the beginning of a new adventure, but despite that you lean forward and kiss him. It’s not wild, it’s not dramatic. It’s slow, simple, chaste. 

“Maverick Thorn.”

“Lila Hart.” 

Then, just like a girl in a movie - or like a drunken, barefoot fool - with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, his number written on your arm, and the taste of him on your lips, you slide into the cab. You don’t look back, but he watches you go. Maybe this time it’s not pretend at all.

Unknown Number:  Hey, it’s Lila. From the wedding. The one you carried three blocks and kissed on the curb. 

Blade Dusk: Lila Hart. I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined you. 

Blade Dusk: Happy to know you aren’t a figment. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve hallucinated someone. 

Blade Dusk: Though the curb moment was suspiciously cinematic. 

Lila Hart: I debated not texting. Figured disappearing might keep the story cleaner. 

 Blade Dusk: Probably, but a cleaner story wouldn’t have your number in it. 

Blade Dusk: So i’ll take the messy Version

Lila Hart: S o will I

Lila Hart: I think

Lila Hart: That offer for a third wedding still on the table?

Blade Dusk: Always

Blade Dusk: But we could try something else too. Something not involving stolen cake or linen suits. 

And that's how you ended up with Blade Dusk on your couch three days later, takeout spread across the living room table, a rom com on the television. Both of you were in pajamas, about the total opposite of the first two times that you’d met. You two had agreed on one thing, you were keeping with the fake names. They were fun. 

They were a way to try and hold on to the mystery a little longer. But the two of you were certainly getting to know each other, even outside of crashing weddings. Falling asleep tangled up on one anothers’ couches after a late night movie marathon, the two of you only ever got through one maybe two movies in an entire night. Both of you pause the movie every five minutes to discuss. 

There were texts to, constant text conversations. Your phone buzzed endlessly, so you knew his did too. There were no labels on your relationship, yet there was near constant flirting, playful banter, debates, you’d started sending outfit of the day photos to each other even.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. Especially not by Dicks family. And the teasing was endless, especially when they saw her call him “Blade Dusk.” Every single one of them referred to him as Blade Dusk every single chance they got. The next undercover mission he went on they tried to convince him to go by Blade Dusk. 

He had refused that idea. 

You certainly noticed the hints of something that he wasn’t telling you, beyond the fake name. There were subtle bruises on his knuckles, being busy almost every single night, things only got more obvious as you got to know him more. But he never gave you a proper answer, “Isn’t risky the fun part? Secrets are risky.”

Secrets were sexy. 

You moved on anyway. You liked him, a lot, and you two were still tip-toeing around the fact that this was something real, something serious, something more than a game. A game where you crashed at each other's houses consistently, but a game nonetheless. 

The way you crashed weddings started changing to, your cover up stories got more and more ridiculous, eventually you two started pushing the boundaries to see what you could get away with. One time Blade had managed to stand with the groomsmen, and gave a speech.

More than once you two had gotten caught kissing in a broom closet or stealing centerpieces from the wedding. 

Somewhere along the way it had stopped being about the game, and more about spending time with each other. The game changed into seeing how close you could get to one another's identities before finding out, or  tricking the other into revealing their real name. The nature of the game all depended on the moment itself. Truth or Dare became a favorite, especially after a movie and one too many glasses of wine. 

Tonight was just one of many nights where Netflix was trying to entice you into choosing what to watch yet, and you were dutifully ignoring it. Wine drunk, warm, and snuggling Blade way too intimately for someone who didn’t know his real name. Somehow, that didn’t bother you. 

“Truth of dare?” you murmured, poking him lazily on the cheek with one of your fingers. 

“Should I be concerned?”

“Always, pick one.”

He stretched out a little, taking up more space on the couch and causing you to fall from his shoulder and into his lap. “Dare.”

You grinned, this was something you’d been thinking over. Some way to win the game, this could give you a huge hint, even his name flat out, or it could end up being a total waste of time. “Read me your last text message. No editing.”

“You know I text weird people.”

“You think I'm a weird person. Read it coward.”

He sighed, but pulled his phone from the couch cushion, unlocking it. He was still as cocky as always. It had been months now, and the only reason why neither of you had given in was a mean stubborn streak both of you had.  You both wanted to win this game. “Don't read too much into it. It says; ‘ safe for now. Patrol finished early. Tell B I won’t make it to debrief. Needed to crash somewhere off grid.’ ”

Your brow furrowed, “That sounds intense. What kind of friends are you texting, and what the hell are you patrolling?”

He gave you a faux innocent look, the text sounded serious, but Blade Dusk was not a serious man. “Neighborhood Watch is very demanding.”

You couldn’t help the laugh, “Yeah, you’d be the kind of man who owns reflective gear and a clipboard.” You stared at him, trying to read between the lines, but he slipped his fingers underneath the hem of your pajama shorts (they were his really, you’d just stolen them). The brush of his fingers against your leg was just enough to let the topic slide. 

“For the record, that was suspicious.” You were muttering, almost pouting.

“You’re suspicious.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“And yet,” he leaned down toward you, dropping his voice low, “You’re still on my couch.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, and was met with a pinch of your fingers on his arm. 

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What do you think about right before you fall asleep?”

He was quiet for a moment, fingers still lazily rubbing circles against your leg, “Sometimes,” his voice was soft, somber, more serious than you were used to him being, “I imagine what it’d be like if this was real. If I got to show up without pretending, no aliases, no jokes. Just…this.”

Your heart fluttered. It would be a lie to say that you didn’t think about it too. It wasn’t that how you felt about each other, or how you behaved was a joke, no. At some point, that had all become real. Yet, neither of you were able to give up the game that you had started months ago, a game that kept your relationship light and easy, pressure free. 

“Sounds like someone's getting soft.”

He shrugged, “Or smart. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

He hesitated, eyes on your face, “What would your real name be if you ever gave it up?”

“That's a good one. But it is premature. Ask again when I don’t feel like winning.”

He groaned, but he was still smiling down at you, “So competitive,”

You laughed, and moved from his lap, standing up and stretching, “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

Your game continued for months longer, it had officially been over a year since the first wedding, and truthfully, you were about to break down and tell him your real name. Your friends and coworkers thought you were insane whenever you tried to explain who the hell Blade Dusk was, your family felt the same way. 

But it was Blade who ended the game, giving you a win, and something else. It was late at night, you were usually asleep by now, and you weren’t exactly sure why you were awake, something had woken you up, for sure, you just didn't know what. So you got up, grabbed the bat you kept by your bed, and crept towards the living room. 

It was lucky, really lucky, that you had spent so much time with him, that even in the dark, with only the light from the streetlamps that made its way through the living room window, you could recognize Blades figure. Otherwise he would’ve gotten a bat to the head. 

The bat dropped to the ground with a clang, “Blade?”

He tried to turn to look at you, but hissed in pain when he did. You rushed over, and even though it was obvious - so obvious - that he was fully clad in nightwings outfit, but you were focused on the wound on his side, still bleeding on your couch and throw pillows.

Blade being Nightwing could wait for another time, it wasn’t important at that exact moment. Keeping him alive was important. Even the idea of having to live life without him again was horrifying. You’d had a nightmare more than once about that. 

So you pressed a hand against it, that’s what you were supposed to do right? Put pressure on it to stop bleeding? 

“God. You look gorgeous when you panic.”

“This is not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

You could feel the warm blood pooling around your fingers, you put more pressure against his side, trying to get it to stop bleeding. Enough pressure that he rolled onto his side completely laying down on the couch. You moved to get a better angle to put more pressure on it. “What am I supposed to do here Blade? Do I call someone or?”

“It’s not Blade. It’s Dick.” 

In any other situation you would have laughed. But considering he was practically bleeding out on your couch, the joke didn’t even cross your mind. You just adapted to the situation and moved on, “Dick? Okay but that’s not what's important right now. What am I supposed to do?”

“My comms are down. I can’t call for backup myself and my phone is busted. But- I have their emergency numbers memorized, can you get your phone and call?”

You were quick, quite literally running back to your bedroom to get your phone, and then move so that you were putting pressure on the wound again, the bleeding wasn’t slowing down. He recited the number, and with your free hand you dialed it before setting the phone to speaker and setting it down, the other hand going back to cover the wound. 

It only took a moment for someone to pick up the phone, “What?”

You didn’t know what to say, didn't even know who the hell you were calling. You were panicking, but that was fine. You were putting pressure on the wound and Dick was talking to whoever was on the phone. Giving your address, and you were just trying to keep pressure on the wound. 

Fuck what if they didn’t get here in time?

“Lila.”

That got your attention, enough to look at him and realize that you were shaking, “Yeah?”

“Do I get to know your name now?”

You nodded dumbly, taking a second before telling him your name. He repeated it, smiling despite the blood still coming from his side. “Thanks for not running.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. Because I'm not done with you yet.”

[starrygazers]

swords, crowns, and everything in between.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ haiii I'm back! I wanted to write a short drabble royalty au love triangle between Mydei and Phainon but this ended up longer. also trying out a new format lmk if you guys like it lol.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : royalty au, love triangle, angst (if you squint)

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : PRINCE! Mydei, KNIGHT! Phainon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

MYDEIMOS, who is introduced to you as the Crowned Prince of Amphoreus, your future husband. Your father had made arrangements for your marriage, a necessary political move, given that your kingdom is not as remarkable in military prowess.

MYDEIMOS, who, on the way to Okhema, tells you about the Marmoreal Palace, where he resides, and where you’ll eventually call home. About how cold the nights are, and that should you need extra coats, you should inform the maids.

PHAINON, who greets you with a bow when you reach the front of Marmoreal Palace. MYDEIMOS introduces him as the head of the Chrysos Knights, protectors of Amphoreus. He tells you that PHAINON will be here to protect you.

MYDEIMOS, who leads you to your chambers. When you open the door, you’re surprised to see it’s decorated with relics of your own kingdom. Traditional dressing table by the bed, and paintings of your castle. You turn to MYDEIMOS, thanking him sincerely. In return, he clears his throat and looks away.

PHAINON, who knocks on your door in the mornings to bring you breakfast. He is your companion when MYDEIMOS isn’t available, which is most days. As long as he is there to escort you, you are free to explore Okhema as you wish.

PHAINON, who seems more excited than you every time you try a new food stall at Marmoreal Market. He does not let you pay for anything, because MYDEIMOS has taken care of shouldering all your expenses.

MYDEIMOS, who isn’t one for idle chit-chat, but slowly starts asking you about how your day went during suppers — an effort to bridge the chasm that separates you and the cold Prince. Suppers are now one of the times in the day you look forward to the most.

PHAINON, who always checks on you after his nightly patrols. Many times, he catches you longing for home, sometimes drowning in your own tears. He drags a chair by your bed and holds your hand, slowly caressing your hair until you drift to sleep.

MYDEIMOS, who on his off days, invites you to the library, where you can read about the extensive history of the Eternal Land of Amphoreus while he does his paperwork. When you notice him start to furrow his brows even deeper than usual, you brew him a tea from your homeland. He gives you a sheepish thank you.

PHAINON, who you excitedly share stories about your homeland to. He is a great listener, always eager to hear more about what your life was like before Amphoreus. PHAINON makes an effort to study simple phrases in your language in hopes of making you laugh, because he thinks that your laugh is a beautiful melody.

PHAINON, who somehow manages to get his hands on a cookbook from your kingdom, and excitedly picks out fresh produce with you from the Palace greenhouse to cook your favorite meals together.

MYDEIMOS, who starts to notice you mentioning PHAINON more and more when you’re telling him about your daily routine during supper. He grips his fork tighter every time you mention the captain’s name, the things you did with him, how much fun you’re having exploring the city with PHAINON.

PHAINON, who furrows his brows when he sees MYDEIMOS in front of your door in the morning. Usually, PHAINON is the last one you see before you close your eyes, and the first one who greets you when you open your eyes. So why was the Prince here before him?

MYDEIMOS, who orders PHAINON to put away the breakfast tray and instead pass on his message to the cook to prepare a basketful of food. When PHAINON asks about the occassion, MYDEIMOS only gives a short curt answer about how he will be out the Palace that day.

MYDEIMOS, who greets you with a new dress when you wake up. You’re taken aback by the sudden gesture, and when you ask what it’s for, he tells you that he’s inviting you for a picnic.

PHAINON, who waves to you as the carriage leaves, leaving him behind in the Palace. He curls his fist and takes a deep breath: what is he thinking? You’re betrothed to his prince, he should not be feeling anything towards you, though that’s easier said than done. Even if you had felt the same things towards him, PHAINON could never give you the life you deserve — he’s no prince. He doesn’t have the power to give you the life of comfort you deserve.

MYDEIMOS, who listens intently as you tell him about the meal you cooked with PHAINON the other day, praising the knight to be an adept cook. He nods at the things you say, but in his head, MYDEIMOS is thinking about how happier you seem to be with PHAINON. Of course you would choose the friendly, caring knight over the broken prince, unable to express his emotions. Could he ever be the husband you deserve?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

check out my other royalty au works on my masterlist!

©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[itsmeyaspider]

Under the devils eye~

Yandere Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Triggers: Yandere behaviour, manipulation, gaslighting, kidnapping

The crackling of the flames is the only noise to be heard in this godforsaken room. You can't remember how long you've been locked in this room. Has it been days, weeks or months? The room, the prince regent put you in was filled with things you used to love in your childhood. Oil paintings of long-dead queens and kings adorn the otherwise blank wall. A green, silky carpet lies on the floor, the bed where you spent your childhood, before everything escalated, still stands there as it once did. The red-black blanket embroidered with the three-headed dragon, your mother's sigil, reminds you of your family. Are they doing well? Do they know you're here? Does your mother even care about you, or are you just another figure in this brutal war?

Thoughts about your family possibly hating you, or worse, seeing you as a traitor, halls in your mind every god damn second. You wanted to end this damn war, after all, far too many good people have already died. But this naive, foolish thought brought you into this helpless situation. Now you are a prisoner of war, a valuable pawn for your uncles. All because you thought that you and your now dead dragon could save the world. What kind of fool am I?!

Your (e/c) eyes gaze into the blazing flames, it is almost like, as if the flames want to tell you a story. But you are not in the condition to perceive it. For days you have refused to eat, let alone speak a single word to your uncle. Why should you? He killed your beloved dragon, (d/n), and then captured you. It would probably have been better if you had died on that dark day, so you could have been with your beloved brother. Finally, united as siblings again. By the seven gods, you miss Lucerys so much. Your poor, little brother, killed by the man who locked you in this empty room. Is this just another game for him? Probably.

But Aemond had always been like that, you just couldn´t believe it, you should have listened to your brothers and your mother...God damn it! When you were still children, you even stood up for Aemond. Another idiotic thing you did. You were against your own brothers, just to scream at them, that they should stop harassing him. At the time, Aemond and you were inseparable. Probably because you both knew the feeling of not being seen by anyone. Constantly standing in the shadows of your brothers and sisters, never being spoken to by anyone... Yes, everything was different back then, better. Who would have thought that everything, what you used to love, shatters into thousands of pieces. It was like a beautiful glass shattering after falling to the ground.

Caught up in your own melachonic thoughts, you don't notice that a certain someone has entered the room. You are still sitting on your bed, your gaze never turning away from the flames. It is almost hypnotizing. The loud creaking of the door being closed pulls you out of your thoughts. The gentle footsteps coming slowly but surely towards you tell you that it wasn't a servant who usually brought you a meal. No, they would have imediatly left your room by now.

Your instinct told you who had entered the room, you didn't need a Maester to put one and one together. "Why? Why are you keeping me as a prisoner here, Aemond?" you sigh out, it's a wonder that you can get a word out. The Targaryen came with every step closer to you and your already fragile form. He reaches out his hand, as he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look him into his eye. For a moment, you thought you could see a spark of obsession reflecting in it. His thumb brushing almost careful your cheek, something what almost made you want to throw up. "Because you are meant to be mine, (Y/n)." he whispers, as he continues to speak. "If you would be a good girl for me, and be obedient, I will even let you go outside, with my supervision of course. Wouldn´t want you to escape." A small, evil smirk graces his lips, as he strokes your (h/c) hair, twirling it in his fingers.

The Targaryen gives you a little kiss on your forehead, his smile never leaving his lips. "We have been destined for each other since our childhood. You will learn to love your new life, just as you will learn to love me, (Y/n)." His words sound more like a command than a simple plead, something that shocked you even more. A cold shiver runs through your body, something that makes your whole body covered in goose bumps. "You killed my brother. I will never love you Aemond, you are a monster, nothing more than that! My mother will come and take her throne and then-" But before you can continue to speak, you feel a searing pain on your cheek. You hear the sound of a loud slap, and before you can say anything else - let alone do anything about it - the prince grabs your (h/c) hair. "Your brother was a little brat, he deserved to die. If you don´t learn to hold your tongue, I will take a knife and make sure your pretty face, won´t be that pretty anymore. Do you understand me, (Y/n)?" His voice becomes dangerous, colder, with every single word.

You had hit a sore spot, that was clear, but you didn´t know that he would react so extremly. The pain in your cheek starts to glow, everything in you wants to get away from here as quickly as possible. Even if the chances of escape were very slim, you couldn't stay here any longer. Aemond was a monster, who impris you for his own selfish desires. "I asked you if you understood me. I hate to repeat myself." You immediately nod at his raging words, not daring to say another word. After all, you didn't want to make him angrier than he already is. By the seven gods, how are you supposed to survive this? Satisfied, the prince takes a few steps back, as his eye pierces you. "Now, you´re going to be a good girl and obey...or there will be consequences."

[cheshirebitch]

Chrissy Cunningham? Really?

Eddie Munson x Reader

*Quick little run off I did till I can post some more later!*

Another day working with Steve and Robin. They were the closest things to friends I have ever had. I was friends with Robin before Steve, but we all met at the Scoops Ahoy in the mall. That was the beginning of the "Upside Down" for Robin and I. To say it was fun is a misunderstanding, but I still wouldn't trade the memories for the world.

"I just don't understand your new obsession?" Steve leaned back onto the counter as I scaled over it, putting on my work uniform vest.

"Really? I mean I like girls and can understand it." Robin defended me, I looked up at Steve with an exasperated look.

"Listen, Steve. You are the definition of Boy Next Door. Of course you wouldn't get it." I rolled my eyes and started collecting the returned movies. I loved rewinding them and putting them back. It was therapeutic as Steve and Robin rather stay on counter duty. I think it's mainly because we never get people during this time.

"Still, it's Eddie Munson we are talking about, the guy who is still in high school and is Dustin's idol." My eyes looked at Steve, ready to defend him when I paused.

"Well, yes, it does look bad that he's still in high school but he was only held back a couple times. He said he was going to really try this year to graduate." Internally, I was face palming at how pathetic I sounded.

"You guys just don't know Eddie like I do. If you saw just how sweet and caring he is, you would more than understand why." I tossed a broken case to Steve. Of course he caught it when I wanted it to smack him in his dumb face. He gave me a look while Robin butted in.

"Well, I never said he wasn't a sweet guy, but I don't know if he is the right guy for you. Do whatever you think is right, but just be careful. I have heard that him and that one cheerleader have been meeting in the woods behind the school." Robin was treading lightly.

He was sneaking off with Chrissy Cunningham? The high school sweetheart of Jason Carver? Was he stupid? What the hell was he doing with Chrissy?

Steve snapped his fingers in my face, "Earth to Henderson? You with us?" I smacked his hand out of my face.

"Robin, how do you know about Eddie and Chrissy?" My eyes were piercing hers, an underline begging for her to spill everything she knows.

"Well, I saw them myself. I was with Steve when he picked up the kids from D&D when I saw Eddie sneak behind the school. I followed while Dustin and Steve argued, which led me to see Chrissy walking down the hill to Eddie sitting at a picnic table. I couldn't make out anything there were saying, but he was being overly funny to her." Her fingers picked at the skin around them, nervous.

"What the hell?" I muttered as I looked back to the cart full of rewound movies, ready to be put back onto the shelves. Steve and Robin were silent until the bell dinged above the door, signaling someone else came in and our conversation was paused.

"Hey Eddie, what are you looking for?" Steve loudly greeted. My eyes glanced back to see Eddie already staring at me, casually dismissing Steve with a simple "Hey."

I couldn't help the slight bubbling annoyance. I felt the adrenaline zipping through my body and shaking my hands. My eyes and his locking, until I just as quickly broke it.

Freight Night slid into its spot as I heard Eddie's footsteps approaching on top of Steve and Robin's hushed whispers. Eddie's cold metal rings made contact before the rest of his hand on my shoulder, gently nudging me to spin towards him.

"Hey stranger, how has your day been?" His smile was bright and infectious, but right now it fueled my annoyance. Was he smiling this bright for Chrissy too? What does she have that I don't already?

"Hey freak." I greeted back, opting to pretend nothing was wrong, instead to figure out what he was doing with her in the first place. "My day is as good as it gets. What are you up to tonight?" I held up the newest Friday the 13th movie that just came out.

His eyes sparkled mischief as he saw the first copy we have received back since the release of this movie two days ago. I promised before that I would hold onto a copy till he could come in and rent it for our weekly movie night. The joy on his face was so intense, my heart felt like it was melting. I even found myself smiling at his excitement.

"No way! You actually are the best thing in my life." My heart soar only to immediately plummet. The same question ringing in my ears.

"You can only rent it if you tell me about you and Chrissy." I planted an evil smirk, masking the actual resentment I held for whatever answer he had.

The light that sparkled in his eyes diminished. A nervous look replaced his once boyish excitement.

"What about her?" He started, already knowing he was in trouble with me. Whatever I asked, I already knew the answer to.

"You two going behind the school, into the woods, alone..." I trailed out as I leaned into his personal space, knowing the more nervous he is the more likely he is to spill everything involuntarily.

"Sweetheart, it's not like that..." He started, hands in surrender as Steve and Robin were nearly falling off the counter for how far they leaned into earshot.

"Mhm, then what is it?" I quipped, eager to hear the answer that could break my day into pieces.

"She's just my newest client, I wanted to impress her enough to buy again. Her and her friends are loaded enough to make the risk of her bulldog boyfriend worth it." His smile was wide enough to look like it hurt, eyes holding mine, and he was still standing in the same place rather than coward from me. He wasn't lying.

"You swear on Dustin?"

"I swear on you and Dustin. Can we watch that movie tonight still?" I smiled. Of course that's all he was worried about after this conversation.

"Worried you will have to wait forever for it to be available without me?" I teased.

"No, I just value our movie nights." Bewildered by his response would be the description for Steve and Robin, not me. I was confused on what he wanted to say instead. I saw the way he chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to stop from oversharing when he was nervous. His fingers spun the rings on his hands, more specifically, the dragon one I got him for his birthday.

"I'm glad you do, maybe we can up our hangouts after you get your grades up to passing again." I offered an easy out from the topic. I knew he was nervous for some reason and I felt bad. I don't want him to feel nervous unless he pissed me off.

"Excuse you, I am passing all my classes at the moment." I scoffed back.

"At the moment." I repeated back. "What class are you about to fail in?" quirking an eyebrow.

"I hate when you can do that."

"Well, if you hate it so much, I will just take back my offer-"

"Let's not get too hasty here, Sweetheart." He immediately cut me off, stepping closer and reaching not so slyly for the movie I have held hostage. I let him think he was sneaky, this time.

"Oh so now you don't have a problem? Is it because no one else knows you as well as I do?" Taunting was my love language. Well, some call it bullying, but it's easier than actually flirting.

"Save the bullying for later tonight when I can throw you around without an audience." Steve and Robin were caught finally by Eddie. Mainly because Robin leaned too far and fell right off the counter. Now they were too busy bickering on who got them caught by us.

"Whatever, what snacks do you want me to bring?" Eddie's fingers gently tapped mine that held the movie, slipping it out of my hand easily.

"Don't worry about it, on me tonight. I obviously need to get in your good graces again tonight or you might beat my ass for talking to Chrissy." I smacked his chest playfully, to which he always took it like a champ.

"Easy there Tiger. Keep this up and I won't get your snacks, only mine." He pointed a finger at me with a twitching smile he was trying so hard to hide. The sparkle in his eyes so captivating, I couldn't look away.

"When has that stopped me from eating yours?" The leather jacket shrugged as he laughed lightly.

"The threat still stands, now pick another one movie."

"Bossy." I teased grabbing another movie and tossing its at him. He caught it not so gracefully, adjusting himself after to not look like he almost dropped everything.

"See you tonight?" Flaunting his glee.

"I guess so." I sighed dramatically. His hand held my cheek momentarily, gently rubbing his ringed thumb across, then letting go softly.

"Good, I missed you." Smooth talker asshole.

"You saw me almost every day at work this week?" I shouted back to his retreating back, watching him check out with Robin.

"Doesn't count. That was just me making sure my girl wasn't causing too much hell without me." He waved bye as he walked out, leaving me red faced. Robin looked at me with a knowing smile as Steve pursed his lips and nodded, hands on his hips.

"I see what she sees now." Robin elbowed him.

"My girl... sweetheart...? Yeah, he totally isn't in love with you too." Robin purred back.

"You're right Steve, it was Robin falling that got you guys caught." I tossed back.

"Like hell it was!" "I fucking knew it!"

They started bickering again as I smiled to myself. I placed another movie back onto the shelf, excited to get the hell out of here and back to Eddie's.

Dickhead.

**************************************************************

As always, characters belong to their owners and the story belongs to me. Thank you for reading and showing your support like always! I hope everyone has a wonderful day. Till next time!

*I will be fixing the layout later as well lol*

[ambroziadelphine]

Mother Nature's child (Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes) Part 11

Marvel Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

“So, you like cats?” Sam asked as we all sat in a police van, Steve and I sat next to each other, my leg bouncing with nerves as I kept my eyes on the truck holding Bucky. I would have laughed at Sam’s joke, but the worry and anxiety I felt was too high right now.

“Sam.” Steve chided.

“What?” He asks, looking at Steve with a very unserious face. “Dude shows up looking like a cat and you don’t want to know more?” He asked and I sighed.

“Personally, I’d rather not know anything about him.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Your suit.. It’s Vibranium?” Steve asked, the Prince turning his head back to us slightly.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior.” He said, pausing for a moment as he looked ahead. “And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king.” He said monotonously.

“So, I ask you, as both warrior and king,” He started, turning his head to look at Steve. “How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?” He asked, Steve going silent as I looked away.

“I’ll keep him safe as long as I’m breathing. I know he didn’t do this.” I said, the King turning to look at me.

“You trust him?” He asked and I looked at him, fierce and determined.

“You never saw the guilt and remorse he felt after HYDRA.” I said simply, looking out the window. “Bucky doesn’t have it in his soul to kill anyone else. He was used as a killing machine before, it doesn’t mean that’s what he is now.” I said, a silence settling over the car as he turned back to face the front.

“For his sake, I hope you are right.” He said and I gave a small sigh.

“I don’t have to hope.” I said simply, looking down at my hands. “He’s already proven it to me.”

—--------------

As we were led out of the van, I looked at Bucky, his eyes turning to me as I tried to give him a reassuring look, though I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I followed Steve and Sam, the King walking behind me as I kept glancing over my shoulder at Bucky.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asked as we approached Sharon and her boss.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you.” Fancy man in a suit said. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.” She said firmly, Sharon looking down before turning to the man.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.” She said, but Steve didn’t really care.

“What about a layer?” Steve asked, Mr. Ross chuckled a little.

“Lawyer. That’s funny.” He said, making me raise a brow, my anger flaring.

“Oh, and him having been tortured and brainwashed for the last 70 years means nothing? The fact he had quite literally no control over his actions means nothing? Is that funny to you, Mr. Ross?” I asked, Steve putting a hand in front of me to stop me as Sam put a hand on my shoulder.

“Cool it.” He muttered to me but I sighed and looked at Mr. Ross who just gave me a blank look.

“See their weapons are placed in lockup. I’ll write you a receipt." He said, soldiers coming to take Steve’s shield. They checked me for weapons but only pulled some seeds out of my pockets, looking at me in confusion as I held my han out for them back, which they surprisingly gave me. They were Kudzu seeds in case I needed them for anything, knowing with just a drop of my blood they'd grow in seconds. Could be good if I need a barrier or need to climb anything.

“I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.” Sam said as we all were lead further into the building, my eyes looking back at Bucky who gave me a sad look, looking away before a guard pushed me forward.

—-----------

“You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell. Now, do me a favor, stay in it?” He asked us, looking at T’challa.

“I don’t intend on going anywhere.” He said, Natasha pushing off the wall as she started walking beside Steve and I.

“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.” She said as I rolled my eyes.

“He didn’t do it.” I said firmly, seeing her look at me for a moment before looking at Steve again.

“He’s alive.” Steve pointed out as we walked into the conference room.

“No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned.” Tony said into a phone as we walked in. “Coronel Rhodes is supervising cleanup.” He said as Natasha walked ahead.

“Try not to break anything while we fix this.” She said, leaving us to just stand there.

“Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences.” Tony said, pausing on the phone. “Obviously you can quote me on that, because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.” He said, hanging up the phone as he walked over to Steve and I. He and I had only met a few times, never for too long so this felt quite strange, because now he was mad at me, but I don’t think he fully knows why I’m this deep involved.

“‘Consequences’?” Steve asked, looking at Tony in slight surprise.

“Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted. Had to give him something.” He said as Steve put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not getting that shield back, am I?” He asked and Natasha turned to smile back at him.

“Technically it’s the government’s property. Wing’s too.” She said as she and Tony walked off.

“That’s cold.” Sam said, shaking his head.

“Warmer than jail.” Tony called back as I sat down, a bad feeling settling in my gut.

—----------------

Steve and I were watching the cameras on Bucky, seeing him bound like that made my heart clench, wishing so badly I could just go down there, let him out and hug him until this all blew over, but I knew I couldn’t.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Tony asked, Steve turning to him but I kept my eyes on Bucky. “I pulled something from dad’s archives.” He said as Steve sat down at the long table.

“Felt timely.” He said as I ignored them, my eyes staying on Bucky before my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

HaileyBee: Hey, you okay?

Mini: Yea, please keep James safe. If anyone comes to get him, do not let them take him.

HaileyBee: Got it. Heard Steve had been taken in, figured to check in.

Mini: Yea, things went.. Wrong, to say the least. I’ll keep you updated on what’s happening.

With that, I put my phone away, zoning back into the present as my eyes returned to Bucky.

“Is Pepper here? I didn’t see her.” Steve said and I glanced back at them, Tony now sat at the table with him, though Steve just looked annoyed.

“We’re kinda..” Tony sighed and looked down at the table. “Well, not kinda..”

“Pregnant?” Steve asked, Tony making a face as he shook his head.

“No, definitely not.” He said and I crossed my arms, turning to him a little.

“Rough patch?” I asked and he looked at me, looking away as he sighed.

“We’re.. Taking a break.” He said, trying to not show it affected him, though he was a bad actor. “It’s nobody’s fault.” He said as I glanced at Steve.

“I’m so sorry, Tony. I didn’t know.” Steve said, looking at him sincerely.

“A few years ago I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits.” He said, giving a small sigh. “Then we had to mop up HYDRA, and then Ultron. My fault.” He said, gesturing to himself as he took in a heavy breath.

“And then, and then, and then, I never stopped. Because the truth is I don’t want to stop.” He said, pausing for a moment as he looked at Steve. “I don’t wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference.” He said, looking away as he got up.

“In her defense, I’m a handful.” He said, giving a small dry chuckle, coming to lean against the glass, still looking to face Steve. I took a step back from him, moving to stand by Steve, my eyes looking over Tony now at Bucky in his cell, still no change to it from a few moments ago. “Yet, dad was a pain in the ass, but he and mom always made it work.” He said, turning to look at the cameras.

“You know, I’m glad Howard got married.” Steve said, smiling as he leaned back in his chair. “I only knew him when he was young and single.” He mused, Tony turning around.

“Oh, really? You two knew each other?” He asked, his voice loud, grabbing his blazer. “He never mentioned that.” He said flatly and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Maybe only a thousand times.” he said, straightening himself out as he put his blazer back on. “God, I hated you.” He sighed, Steve looking down but I put a hand on his shoulder. Tony’s feelings and his fathers actions had nothing to do with Steve. He or his father didn’t make Tony hate him, he chose to hate him.

“I don’t mean to make things difficult.” Steve said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“I know, because you’re a very polite person.” Tony said, Tony walking behind him as I stepped aside, uncomfortable being around the billionaire if he was just going to disrespect Steve this whole time.

“If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it.” Steve sighed, looking up at Tony. “Sometimes I wish I could.” He said quietly, Tony shaking his head.

“No, you don’t.” He said, Steve smiling as he looked down at his hands, looking back up at Tony with a light smile.

“No, I don’t.” He agreed. “Sometimes..”

“Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth.” Tony cut him off, sighing as he shrugged a bit. “But I don’t wanna see you gone.” He admitted.

“We need you, Cap.” He said and I felt a tiny bit of hope they were turning the corner, before I realized this was just him trying to get Steve to sign, not him realizing he was wrong. “So far nothing's happened that can’t be undone if you sign.” He said, pointing to the pens he had brought from his dad’s archives and the Accords on the table.

“We can make the last 24 hours legit.” He said and I sighed, knowing Tony really didn’t understand. “Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center instead of a Wakanda prison.” He said as Steve turned to the table. Steve grabbed a pen and stood up after a silent moment and I felt a small pang of fear that he was going to agree, stopping as he turned to look at Tony then back at the pen in his hand.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there would have to be safeguards.” He said, looking at Tony as I looked at him in shock.

“Sure.” Tony said, holding his arms out, taking a step towards him. “Once we put out the PR fire, these documents can be amended.” He said as he sat down, still looking at Steve.

“I’d file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated, and Jasmine I suppose,” He said, Steve furrowing his brows.

“Wanda? What about her?” He asked before shaking his head. “And no, Jasmine isn’t a part of this.” He said, making me open my mouth to protest.

“She’s fine. She’s confined to the compound, currently. Vision’s keeping her company.” Tony said as if talking about a weather report as Steve closed his eyes and scoffed, turning away.

“Oh, god, Tony.” Steve chided. “Everytime. Every time I think you see things the right way..” Steve could barely speak before Tony was talking over him.

“It’s 100 acres with a lap pool. It’s got a screening room.” Tony tried arguing above Steve until I slammed both hands on the table and shut them both up.

“A cage is still a cage, even with toys, Tony.” I seethed, staring at him angrily. “Does she know she isn’t allowed to leave the compound?” I asked and he opened his mouth then paused and I laughed at him. I actually laughed in his face.

“You are a fucking, idiot, Tony Stark.” I said but he rolled his eyes.

“There are worse ways to protect people.” He said, Steve looking at his in disbelief.

“Protection?” He asked, Tony looking away for a moment. “Is that how you see this? This is protection?” Steve asked, his voice staying even but firm.

“This is internment, Tony.”

“She’s not a US citizen.” He said, Steve scoffing.

“Oh, come on, Tony.” Steve groaned as I looked at the rich man in pure disbelief.

“And they don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction.” He said, Steve had to put an arm on me so I wouldn’t lunge at him.

“Shes a human being, Tony!” I yelled.

“She’s a kid!” Steve said loudly.

“Give me a break!” Tony yelled back, a silence settling over the room for a moment. “I’m doing what has to be done. To stave off something worse.” He said but I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Steve said after a moment, a beat passing before he put the pen back down near the box, giving it back to Tony as I stood by him. “Hate to break up the set.” He said before taking my hand and walking out of the room to watch as someone spoke to Bucky, to evaluate him.

[honeymyheaven]

[10:32] toji fushiguro

SLIGHT 18+ ; just pure ovulating and yearning hours guys

The door doesn’t creak when he pushes it open. You don’t bother standing from your bed. Your eyes flicker to the doorway, watching him enter like a ghost you called into the room yourself.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The silence is a language you both understand — fluent in denial. You should ask him why he’s here, how he got in, but there are more pressing things to ask.

“Do you ever think about guilt?” The floorboard creaks with every step he takes and you lazily push another page over. He laughs, low and humorless, and you feel the bed dip beside you.

“Every time I touch you.”

You let the silence linger, broken only by your mingled breaths, and a sharp inhale when you feel the palm of his hand press on the small of your back.

“You think I’m a bad man,” he says and you swallow down your excitement. You can feel the warmth of his palm against your skin and your hand falters for a second when turning the page once more. You can feel his eyes on your body, moving slowly downward like he’s undressing you with shameless thoughts.

You feel it — the want crawling down your spine, the hunger that isn’t hunger but something far more dangerous: need.

“You want me,” he laughs, his lips moving to the crook of your neck, basking in the way your cheeks flush at his touch and noting the way your breath catches in your throat.

“I wish I didn’t,” you choked out.

The silent now is suffocating, you can feel his breath on your throat. You shiver like a sinner before the altar.

He still hasn’t touched you.

Not properly.

And somehow, it’s worse than if he had.

[mssorceressupreme]

Hate and Love | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: in the mission of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow, you and Fred get thrown off-track as his broom breaks, resulting in an overnight detour at a hotel.

Warnings/content: minors DNI 18+, halfblood!reader, One Bed Trope, enemies to lovers, boner!alert, oral!freceiving, p in v, grumpy x sunshine (if u squint), raw penetration (wrap it plz), cumming inside, orgasm denial, fluffy ending, fighting death eaters, dom!fred, sub!reader

Wordcount: 5.8k

———

You stood near the wall, arms crossed, in the house of number four Privet Drive, the place where it all began for one of your closest friends, Harry Potter. The group of you were gathered in the empty living room, discussing the highly dangerous plan of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow.

Beside you stood the twins, listening intently as Mad-Eye Moody instructed orders.

Seven of them had just taken polyjuice potion, resulting in seven 'Harry's', all in accordance with Moody's plan.

“Right then, we’ll be pairing off. Each ‘Potter’ will have a protector and to make it simpler for you, I'll choose the pairs.” His mismatched eyes scanned the group, assigning pairs, and an aggravating pit settled in your stomach once Moody called out your name, “Y/N, you're with Fred.”

Your head snapped toward Fred, who groaned audibly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He muttered, but George nudged him softly, urging him to be tolerable while they changed out of their regular clothes.

“Yeah yeah, happy to be paired up with you too.” you rolled your eyes, the sarcasm in your tone apparent.

Fred and you had never gotten along. Since your days at Hogwarts, the two of you had been like oil and water—always at odds. He thought you were too uptight, too rule-abiding, while you found him utterly insufferable, reckless, and far too smug for his own good.

But for Harry, you’d endure today. He'd done a great deal to help you throughout your years at Hogwarts, so it was only fair of you to return the favour.

“Head for the Burrows, we’ll rendezvous there!” Moody finished. The room stirred with movement as everyone prepared for what was to come.

Outside, the night air was cool as you mounted Fred’s broom behind him. The scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy, hit your nose, and you hated that you thought it smelled decent, inhaling a bit more. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist, well, 'Harry's' waist.

Fred stiffened slightly at your touch, “Don’t get too comfortable back there.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t.”

Before you could snap back another remark, he kicked off into the sky, soaring above London, splitting up from the others.

Everything was eerily silent for a few moments. The flight seemed too smooth for your liking. You kept an alert eye, constantly scanning your surroundings.

You caught a shadow in the corner of your eye, and you whipped your head around, squinting your eyes at the figure in the dark.

"What the..." You muttered.

"Fred go faster...." You ordered, losing sight of the shadowy figure.

"Why don't you come fly the broom then." He retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Fred! I"m serious!" You yelled, gripping his waist tighter, as he exhaled before picking up the pace.

"In case you forgot, I need to be able to breathe to fly this thing properly." He grunted as you practically squeezed every breath out of him.

"Right, sorry," You loosened your grip ever so slightly, "...it's just, I swear I saw something."

You turned around again, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure. The shadow was no longer a mystery figure but a person, or, three people rather.

Death Eaters.

"Oh shit! Fred! They're here!" You took your wand out and began fighting with them.

Spells shot through the night, streaks of green and blue illuminating the sky like a twisted fireworks display. The death eaters had appeared out of nowhere, zooming in, attacking viciously as they trailed behind you on their brooms.

“They’re following us!” you shouted over the wind, turning back around to gauge Fred.

“Oh, really? Thought we were just out for a lovely evening flight,” he shot back sarcastically, dodging a hex just in time.

You rolled your eyes but focused on firing spells behind you, hitting one death eater square in the chest and sending him spiralling downward.

"Stupefy!" You shouted, casting the second death eater off his broom. Two down, one to go.

Just as you felt a moment of victory, another spell whizzed past, striking the broom.

The wood splintered with a sickening crack. "Uhh, Fred?" You called out, glancing at the broom.

“Hold on—” Fred barely got the words out before the broom snapped completely, and the two of you plummeted toward the Thames River.

You hit the water hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. You kicked frantically, breaking the surface and gasping for air. The coolness of the water had your body in shock, shivering as you forced yourself to stay afloat.

Fred emerged a second later, coughing.

Glancing above, you saw the third death eater laughing maliciously as he flew off, leaving you and Fred. He must've figured it wasn't the real Harry, given that you called him 'Fred'.

“Great! Look what you’ve done!” you accused, treading water furiously.

“What I’ve done?! That was you—you were supposed to be fighting them off!” he retorted, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He had transformed back into his original self, the fiery redhead Fred you knew.

You groaned, swimming toward the embankment where a set of stone stairs led to dry land. Your fingers were frozen as you pulled yourself up, collapsing onto the pavement. Fred followed, shaking out his drenched hair like a dog.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant,” you muttered, clutching one-half of the broken broom while he had the other. “Now how are we supposed to get to the others?”

Fred sighed, pushing his hair back. “Let’s just go somewhere dry first.”

You nodded begrudgingly, too cold and exhausted to argue.

When you emerged from the river, it was given that pedestrians would stare at the two of you strangely. Swimming in the Thames River wasn't exactly the most normal thing to do, let alone at this hour.

Though, in this particular instance, more of them were starring at you, rather than Fred.

Fred cleared his throat, eyes darting down to your chest then back up before averting his eyes immediately.

You furrowed your brows, glancing down, only to remember that you were wearing a white shirt along with the worst possible undergarment to pair with it, a black bra.

You felt your cheeks heat up, as you covered your chest, "Let's just go..."

Fred shook his head, taking off the grey jacket he wore and putting it over you, "Here."

Though still wet, it offered the coverage you much needed and you were entirely grateful. "Thanks." You muttered softly, as you two began walking.

"Figured you wouldn't want to walk around flashing the whole of London."

The two of you walked in silence as you tried to figure out a way to get to the others. “We can apparate—” he started.

“Absolutely not. There are muggles everywhere,” you snapped, nodding to the late-night pedestrians strolling along the streets.

Fred scoffed, shooting you an eye-roll. “Alright, Professor McGonagall.”

You ignored him, scanning the area. A small, dingy-looking hotel caught your eye. Without another word, you trudged toward it, Fred trailing behind. The receptionist, a bored-looking woman in her mid 40s, barely glanced up as you approached the desk.

The hotel looked cheap enough for an overnight stay. All you needed to do was clear your mind and get a good night's rest before figuring things out in the morning; yes, that sounded ideal to you right this moment.

“Two rooms, please,” you said firmly.

She tapped at the keyboard, chewing on some gum as she did so. “We’re fully booked.”

Your heart sank. “What about one room? With two beds?”

"Sorry, we're full." She continued typing, then clicking on the mouse as she looked around the screen, "It's peak season honey, we're always maxed out."

"Please you've got to have at least one room, with two beds, anything?" You pleaded, desperate for whatever you could acquire.

"We'll take whatever we can get, you've got to have something." Fred added, backing you up as he stood closer to you.

She checked again, then looked at you, eyes lighting up. “Ah, it seems that we do have one left with two beds, but the heating is broken, that's why we didn't offer it to customers. Actually, I was supposed to call the maintenance guy, but he's my ex, you see, so it's a bit of a rough story. I always thought he loved me, you know, how could someone not, I mean look at me? I'm gorgeous. He was supposed to come by today but we—”

"We'll take it!" Fred interjected swiftly, clearly exhausted. "Thank you."

Relief flooded you as you he paid with muggle money. You were surprised he even had some on hand, but after all, he was a businessman.

"Interesting, all this muggle stuff eh?" Fred mused, as you both entered the lift, his eyes darting around as he observed his surroundings.

"I suppose so, yeah. I guess I was lucky enough to be born a half-blood, you get the best of both worlds." You shrugged, as though hotels and 'muggle elevators' were the most natural thing in the world.

"Alright then, you lead the way, Ms expert." He mocked, gesturing for you to lead the way once the doors opened.

You scoff softly, marching down the hallway before finding your room number. Fred reaches seconds after you, looping his arm around your body to swipe the keycard.

He placed an arm on the door to open it, letting you in first before closing it after he entered.

But the moment you entered the room, your jaw dropped.

One bed.

“What? She said there were two beds.” You blinked, looking around the room in confusion.

“She must’ve meant the couch,” Fred said, nodding toward the small, lumpy-looking couch a few inches beside the bed, by the window.

You swallowed, “Right, well, who's sleeping where?” Honestly, at this point, you didn't even mind taking the couch, as long as you could get some rest.

Fred's eyes darted from the bed to the couch, exhaling exasperatedly before finally looking at you, "I'll take the couch."

"I didn't know Fred Weasley had manners?" You gasped, faking your amusement.

He shot you a glare, grabbing a towel as he did so, "Could you be any more aggravating?"

You tried to think of a witty comeback, something, anything to get a reaction out of him. But alas, you were lost for words. He did have a point though.

Come to think about it, you realised that you might've only been behaving this way because you were not used to him being so much of a...gentleman. This was foreign to you.

"I'll have the first shower." He shifts past you, nudging your shoulder, which sends heat through your bodies temporarily.

“Be my guest.”

You hear the lock shut, and seconds later, the water starts running.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took in your surroundings. This was no five-star hotel, but it was presentable and decent enough for an overnight stay. The walls are dark grey, with ambient lighting all around the room. Navy blue sheets grace the double bed, with a soft brown leather footer in contrast. There is a tea tray and a kettle, on top of the dark brown desk that sat in the corner of the room.

Minutes later, the door clicks and unlocks.

Fred steps out, a white towel hanging around his waist. His hair is wet, and his body glistening with water droplets. Your eyes couldn't help but drift down, his body was incredible defined, a stark contrast to your school days when he was merely a boy, now, he was a man.

Oh, he definitely works out. You noticed his arms, much larger and buffer than they used to be.

"All yours." He jerked his chin to the bathroom.

You gulped, brushing past him before hurriedly entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Wow, since when did Fred Weasley get so, attractive?

The hot water was a blessing, washing away the cold. You stood under the steamy shower for a couple of minutes, taking in as much warmth as you could.

With no new clothes to change into, you wrapped yourself in the plush hotel bathrobe, sighing in frustration. It appears there was only a kids sized one left, and you had no choice but to wear it. Whatever, it’ll do the job for tonight.

You hung your wet clothes on one of the bathroom racks, and you saw that Fred did the same, you placed your clothes beside his.

You were humming to yourself when you stepped out, relieved to be in some dry clothes, dancing a little as you strolled to the bed.

When he heard you walking, Fred glanced up, something flickering in his expression, though you're not quite sure what.

“That bathrobe is way too small for you." He remarks, laying with his legs out on the couch, two arms behind his head as he rests.

"What was I supposed to do, wear my wet clothes to sleep?" You respond as you hop into bed, tugging the covers and snuggling in.

"It could be an enlightening experience." He hummed, as he shut his eyes, adjusting himself on the couch.

"You try it then." You counter, scoffing at his idiocy.

The curtains are drawn, and the lights are dim. Silence fills the room as you both unwind for the evening. Before you shut the lights from the switch beside your bed, you call out, "I'm going to off the lights now, need anything before I turn them off?"

"Yeah actually..." He perks his head up, turning to face you.

"What?" You ask, listening keenly.

"For you to be quiet." A small smile played on his lips as he laid back down.

You rolled your eyes, before hitting the lights.

"Good night." He cooed.

You lay there, tossing and turning, but you couldn't seem to fall asleep for the life of you. It didn't help that the room was so cold, due to the heater being unfixed.

Minutes passed in silence before you turned your head slightly. Fred was stretched out on the tiny couch, his long legs dangling uncomfortably over the armrest.

It was evident that he was way too tall to fit on all that, he did not look the slightest bit comfortable.

“See something you like?” Fred smirked, feeling your stare though his eyes were shut.

“What? No! I was just—”

“Just what? Admiring this handsome face?”

"Honestly Fred, how conceited are you?" You sat up now, shooting daggers at him. As much as you hated to admit it, he was, in fact, handsome. Annoyingly so.

Truth be told, had he not been so irritating, you might've actually considered dating him.

You loved the Weasleys, Ginny was like a sister to you, Ron, your close friend, George, always on the lookout for you. He even took you down to Hogsmeade for a meal and bought you treats when you cried over one of the Slytherin boys rejecting you back in your fourth year.

But Fred, oh Fred, you could never see eye to eye with him. You only ever tolerated him because his family was so warm and welcoming.

A tiny part of you felt guilty that he was forced onto the couch, despite being the one that paid for the room.

You wanted to offer the place beside you to him, seeing that the bed was larger than anticipated once you were actually tucked in.

"Well you are staring, something you need?" He countered, his eyes are still shut, arms still behind his head.

"Well, I was thinking...." You hesitated, "well, you could sleep on the bed. It's actually more spacious than I thought."

His brows shot up, and he opened his eyes, turning to face you. “In the bed? With you?”

“Don’t make it weird, Fred,” you huffed. “The couch looks uncomfortable.”

"Are you, being nice to me?" He teased, the urge to take back your offer growing stronger.

"Don't make me change my mind, Weasley."

After a beat, he groaned. “Fine. But don’t hog the covers.”

"Please I sleep like a log, it's not like I'm going to cuddle you or anything."

"Cuddle me eh?" He mused.

"Not bloody likely, besides you're too annoying to be my type." You retort.

Fred stood up, walking to the other side of the bed. He slid in beside you, and the bed suddenly felt too small. You kept your back to him, but quickly got up and put one of the spare pillows between you.

"See this line? Don't cross it and you're good." You commanded, and he chuckled lightly,

"Alright alright." He raised in hands.

You turned away from him, back to him as you attempted to fall asleep. You hadn't realised how far you were from him, you were practically tipping over the edge of the bed.

You scooted inside a little, bumping into the pillow wall you put.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, you sighed in defeat. The room was cold, and the blankets were not much help.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were the only one awake. You extended your arm behind you, trying to find the pillow 'wall' you had put up. But with all the tossing and turning from the two of you, the pillow must've slipped out of place and down the lower half of the bed somewhere.

As you extended your arm behind you, you accidentally came into contact with Fred's back, and he shifted slightly before turning to face you instead.

It's dark, almost pitch black, but with the small glimmer of light, you can see that his eyes are shut. Curious you called out, "Fred?" you whispered. "Are you awake?"

"I am now, no thanks to you." He fluttered his eyes open, facing you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see if—"

"Don't be." He sighed, "Couldn't sleep a wink either. This room is bloody cold."

"The blankets aren't doing anything." You exhaled, agreeing, before an idea popped into you head.

"This might sound silly, but, if we revert back to old fashioned methods, we could, um—actually it's stupid, nevermind." You began, but quickly dismissed it.

"Go on, I'd like to hear what genius solution you've come up with."

"It's dumb, I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." He replied.

You hesitated again before suggesting, “We could—uh—use body heat.”

He stared at you momentarily, it looked as though he thought about it, considering it before responding, “Absolutely not.”

"Okay, whatever, I just thought it was a feasible option. These robes aren't exactly pyjama material either." You say, trying to tighten your robes, with the hopes of warming up your body.

You both fell into silence again your back facing him once more, before Fred spoke up, "Come here."

"What?" You turned around.

"I suppose, we could try the body heat thing."

"Oh so now you want to try my idea?" You raise your brow, scoffing as you shift over slowly, and he extended his arm, pulling you in.

"Don't get any ideas, I just need to sleep and call it a day." You firmly spoke, pressing your back to him, as he faced you. You felt his heat, no doubt, it was working, and you were starting to warm up. In all the places apparently, your cheeks, and an area of yours down there. Your heart pounded as his hand rested against your back, his breath tickling your ear.

"Let's do shoulder-to-shoulder." You suggested, trying to hide your flustered-ness.

He didn't argue, respecting your decision. The two of you lay there, facing the ceiling as your shoulders touched. Though not as warm as before, it was still warmer at least.

You turned your head, Fred's face illuminated by the dim light coming through from the curtains, his jawline ever so chiselled. Merlin, he was undoubtedly a handsome chap. You shut your eyes, trying, yet again to enter a slumber.

As you laid there, eyes shut, Fred opened his, gauging you. He smiled softly as he took in your features, rolling his eyes fondly as he saw you breathing slowly.

You swore you were about to cast some sort of sleeping spell, because you still could not fall asleep for the life of you. You keep moving, accidentally brushing against Fred's body countless times but you couldn't help it, you needed to find a comfortable position.

You move your arm around the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position for yourself until you accidentally graze something, unexpected.

You freeze.

Did you actually just graze that?

Was he....?

You slowly turned to face him, your body merely an inch away from his. You see him shut his eyes, heavily breathing, his Adam's apple bopping up and down from swallowing hard.

"Would you quit moving so much?" He whispered, trying to contain himself.

"I....Fred, I didn't mean to." You pause. "You're still awake?"

"10 points to Y/H (your house), captain obvious."

You furrow your brows, turning on the bedside lamp which offered the tiniest bit of ambient light in the dark room.

Your gaze flickered down, and well, you saw, a little friend poking up from the sheets beneath him.

"Is that, because of m—" You swallowed not daring to finish the sentence, looking at his hard on. "I'm sorry shouldn't have moved so much."

"Alright, it's okay, it's not a big deal, so what it's normal right. I didn't mean to accidentally keep grazing or grinding on you, I was merely trying to find a comfortable position. Listen, I'm not weirded out or anything, you can go sort it out. Who am I to judge? This time tomorrow we'll all be at the burrow and I'll be sharing a room with Ginny and 'Mione, so it's fine, we can—" You began ranting out of nervousness, but Fred had enough, opening his eyes to sit up with you,

"Merlin, Y/N. Ranting like you're so innocent, moving around like that? On me?" He leans in closer, growling, "I bet you'd really want to know what got me provoked in the first place, yeah?"

You gulped, inspecting his features as he leaned in closer to you, now an inch apart, "You aggravate me, pushing my damn buttons all the bloody time. Maybe if you weren't such a whiny brat complaining about everything, I would've fucked you an hour ago till you were silenced.” He ranted before continuing,

“You want to know what got me so hard? You waltzing around in those darn bathrobes that are far too small, exposing every inch of your body, your cleavage is practically begging to be seen. I can't keep my fucking eyes off you. Ever since Hogwarts, it was always you, grating on my last nerves. I thought I hated you so, until I realised that there was a fine line between hate and attraction."

"Fred..." your eyelids flutter; how did his voice get so low and sensual? You could feel yourself throbbing, growing wetter by the minute, and you found yourself growing more needy for him.

"Bloody hell Y/N, you've got me wrapped around the irritating finger of yours."

"Just shut up and kiss me Fred." You breathlessly whisper, not realising that you'd been holding your breath the entire time.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, he wasted no time pouncing on you. His hand is behind your neck and he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering on top of you.

Fred's lips meet yours furiously, desperately, never in your life has someone kissed you this passionately before. You open your mouth, and he slides his tongue in, a desirous clash of tongues. He savours every inch of your mouth and it makes you wonder how long he's been wanting to do this for.

"May I?" He asks for permission as he tugs at the belt of your bathrobe.

You nod, too breathless to speak as you gaze up at him. Fred undoes your robes, leaving you clothe-less on the bed. He does the same, kneeling between your legs which are spread open and on either side of his waist. You subconsciously give him doe-eyes as he does so, merlin, he looked so deliciously attractive.

"So fucking beautiful, all this hidden from me all these years?" He leans down and gently kisses your neck while gripping your waist, sucking on a sensitive spot which earns a moan from you.

"Going to leave hickey's on you so everyone knows you're mine gorgeous."

"Who said I was yours?" Every so daring you retort, though you lacked conviction.

He chuckled lowly before sucking on another sensitive spot, leaving a reddish mark on you, "Fred..." you moan again. His kisses grow more wet and fervent as he plants kisses trailing down your body. His hands move from your waist to your breasts, massaging them gently as he continues further down your body.

You're barely able to control the obscene moans slipping from your mouth, any attempts at suppressing them growing more difficult by the second. You didn't even care that people around you might hear.

"You're soaking wet, and yet you say you're not mine." Fred cooed, his eyes glued to your heat, coated with glistening wetness.

You revel in the fact that he can barely take his eyes off you, you glance at him, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust. Once he catches sight of your lustful eyes, desperate for him, he can't tear his gaze away from you. He slowly leans down, sensually licking your coated slick.

Your sensitive cunt throbs even harder upon the contact from his tongue, "Fred please..." You whine, throwing your head back onto the pillow.

He traces the shape of your vulva, pressing kitten licks on your needy clit, causing your legs to clamp around his head. He doesn't break eye-contact, as he continues to work his mouth around your core.

He continues sucking your clit, his tongue working his way on your swollen pearl.

You tangle your hands in his head, tugging lightly. Your body can't help but arch into his face due to the overwhelming pleasure, as he continues indulging in your cunt. "Merlin Fred!" You cry out as he suckles on a particularly sensitive spot.

"You taste so damn good love, so sweet unlike that bitter mouth, hm?"

"I'm yours Fred....all yours..." You whimper, succumbing to his words.

"Say that again." His voice low, commanding, you could feel the heat from his mouth near your throbbing cunt.

"I'm yours, Fred." You moan, as he continues straight into your core.

The feeling is heavenly, both hands tangled in his red locks as he gives you the most pleasant head you've ever felt in your life. Once he stops assaulting your clit, he lifts his head and faces you, his eyes smiling up at you, as though you are the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

Oh, you're so close, tilting over the edge of something mind-blowing. He leans down and gives your clit a few more kitten licks, planting soft kisses before pulling away, just as you were about to cum.

"Don't stop," you whimper, "I was so close...."

"Fred?" You plead, again, but he sits up and crawls to you, now hovering over you his hands on either side of your head. "Please let me cum...."

"You will, darling." He cooes, leaning down to your ear, "Around my cock."

You felt yourself throbbing yet again, upon his words. What the hell was he doing to you, causing you to feel this weak beneath him? This powerless? Your sharp, witty tongue, nowhere in sight.

"Please Fred, I need you." You whine, begging him for more.

"What ever happened to, 'I despise you'?" He hovered over you and you sat up, meeting his lips. Giving him a passionate, hungry kiss before pulling away,

"There is a fine line between hate and love, and I think today I've learnt that you've been sitting in the wrong category all along."

He smiled, brushing a hand on your cheek as he gazed down at you lovingly, "Took me so long to realise that you're the only person I've ever felt something with."

"Took us bloody ages." You roll your eyes fondly, before giggling as he pecked your forehead gently.

You gazed up at him with doe-eyes, and him down at you, to your lips then back up, his mouth parted slightly as he took in how breathtaking you looked beneath him. Shit, you were always beautiful to him, he'd only now realised.

"Need you inside me Fred." You plead softly, desperately, which only fuelled his desire for you even more.

"Anything for you, love."

You never thought you'd admit it, but he has a fucking incredible dick. You assumed he'd be packing because he was 6"3, but the sight of it made you drool. Bloody hell, he had every right to be so smug.

His slit was already leaking with precum, his eyes lock onto yours as he lowers himself. Your legs are still on each side of his waist, he grabs his dick and teases it along your wet entrance, sliding it a few times to coat it with your slickness.

You involuntarily buck your hips, desperate for penetration as you whimper. He slowly lowers himself down, and finally into you.

At first, you hiss at the pain upon being stretched out by his hugeness, you could feel him stretching your walls, registering that fact that he was fully inside you now.

"Fuck...." he moans, letting out a groan, "So tight for me hm?"

"Freddie...." You moan as he begins moving, rocking his hips slowly. You get used to the size of him, filling you to the brim, every slight bit of movement causing your walls to tense around his dick, rubbing within you sensually.

"I know baby, I know." He responds softly, continuing at this pace.

With every rock, his breathing increases, your soft pleas and his eager pants filling the room as he speeds up, going faster and harder.

Your moans start to get louder, getting more deafening by the minute. Fred leans down to plant kisses on your neck, and pecking your lips occasionally, you moan into him as he drives himself further into your core.

"You're doing so well baby." He coos into your ear, murmuring praises as he continues to thrust into you.

Fred doesn't stop pounding into you, you move your hands to his back, your nails practically digging into his skin from the pleasure.

Skin slapping against skin, you feel every jolt of his body into you. He's fucking you so gently but hard at the same time, treating you as though you were the most fragile thing on the planet.

"Baby..." You whimper, eyes fluttering shut, as he continues thrusting into you deeply, you are overwhelmed with so much pressure that you might cry, but it just felt so damn pleasurable.

"I'm getting close Fred." You pant, breathing heavily, as he picks up his pace.

"Look at me." He demands, and you open your eyes, gazing into his hazel ones. For once, they aren't filled with irritation, or the usual annoyance you were used to seeing, they were more gentle, admiring you, it was a look of love.

"Fred, I'm so close!" You cry out, feeling an orgasm coming closer, "I'm gonna—" you can barely finish your sentence, the pressure. on your g-spot and the intense penetration becoming too much for you to handle, along with the gaze of hazel eyes burning into you.

You let out an obscene moan as your walls clench around him, you jerk harshly, causing him to let out a guttural moan. It's a pleasurable ache, your entire body pulses beneath him.

"Gonna come inside you baby, that okay?" He asks, and you nod, to breathless to speak.

Seconds later, he comes undone, squirting his juices inside you. The world slows down as you enter your state of euphoria; you're entangled in pure bliss as you come down from your high. Your body is still electrified from the feeling before.

It takes a while for you to fully settle down. You slowly flutter your eyes open to find yourself engulfed in Fred's buff arms, your breathing in sync. The two of you lean against the wooden bed-frame, and you lean your head on his shoulder, while he cradles you.

You glance down at your body and notice that it's covered in marks, which looked bloody hot. Merlin, you really were Fred's now huh?

"So much for body heat." You chuckled softly, as he stroked your back gently.

He laughs, and you feel the vibrations of his chest, "The best kind of heat if you ask me." He says which earned an eyeroll from you.

Fred plants a soft kiss on your head, "Y'know I'm not one for apologies, but I was a bit of a jerk to you back in Hogwarts, and I want to apologise."

"It was a two-way thing, Freddie, suppose I should apologise for being one too. Merlin, you did grate on every last one of my nerves though." You tease.

"Always a pleasure." He grinned down at you, engulfed in his arms as you looked up at him, sharing a moment of sweet silence as you put the past behind you.

A ray of moonlight shone through the tiny gap in the curtain. You turned your head, glancing out the window as you pondered about the others back at the burrow.

"What're we going to tell the others when we find them tomorrow?" You giggled, taking in the state you were both in.

"I have a feeling they won't be surprised." Fred confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in my family thinks we have a thing for each other, especially Ginny. Won't stop talking about us that sister of mine."

"Since when?!" You were amused, the two of you were the epitome of the word hate back in Hogwarts and to hear a statement like this shocked you.

"Since school apparently." He laughed, shaking his head, "I thought it was silly too, but look where we are now."

"Just wait one day, you'll eventually get married." He mocked Ginny's tone, mirroring her facial expressions too, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Please, you and me?" You raised a brow, teasing him, though biting back a fond smile.

"Neverrrr." He scrunched up his nose, holding you closer as you both now laid down in bed, safely in each other's grasp.

Finally comfortable, you found yourself drifting off into a much-needed slumber. The same could be said for Fred, it was safe to say the body-heat idea turned out better than anticipated.

And with this newfound love, perhaps the broomstick breaking was a blessing in disguise.

[bakug0uzb1thc]

Sit there and look pretty.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Katsuki always tells you ‘sit there and look pretty.’ He doesn’t mean it in a petty way he genuinely means it. He wants you to sit down and be your pretty self, when he says it it’s usually regarding something he’s doing. Pretty much telling you to watch him, That or he wants to do something for you.

One of his love languages is acts of service so just let him do what he does best.

From ordering food to making the bed he tells you

“just sit there and look pretty mama I’ll do it.”

And You’d be stupid if you didn’t listen to him.

[supasolaa]

pretty little baby…i’m so in love with you….

romantic reader

romantic reader with her and rafe’s baby

(not canon to romantic reader, just a blurb!<3)

while you and the baby quietly layed in the bed, rafe had been working late, you smile gently. it’s been 3 or 4 weeks since the birth of your baby girl. she was so pretty… and you both adored her. though it came with it’s challenges…waking up all night, feeding her, learning things you’d never known. and all while healing. thankfully rafe had helped as much as he could but had to go back into work this past week. it wasn’t that bad in the day, plus half of her day was napping so…then it would also be napping time for you. you were in love with her. even with all the pain it took. it was worth it. she smiled and giggled with her gummy teeth as you quietly sang, though she’d fall asleep soon.

“pretty— —little— —baby— —i’m— —so— —in— —love— —with— —youuu….” you quietly sang out though choked, you had also been as tired as her. you quietly look up as you hear rafe coming up the stairs, then coming into the room. “im home…” he quietly said, you smile softly, but she starts to cry, probably sensing her daddy already… you get up picking her up. then carrying her over to him “i think your girl missed you…” you quietly said “ i missed her too. both my girls.” he said smiling at you softly, though just as tired as you. “i’ll put her down, you can go get ready to bathe….ill be there in a moment.” nodding quietly, you hand her over then going off to the bathroom.

after a few moments, rafe came in to see you sitting down on the chair in the bathroom. he knelt down, helping you get your clothes off. “she trouble you that much, today..?” he gently asked taking off your bra. “not that much…we were sleeping a lot…” you quietly said tired. he knew you were tired, probably didn’t want to talk. so he didn’t. not making you talk either. he gently pulled you up to walk, leading you to the tub. he layed you in carefully, starting to wet you softly. “not too hot…cold?” quietly humming, he’d understand that it was fine. you’d say something if it was.

once getting out and getting you into pj’s. doing your routine for you, just as you usually would…she started crying again, thankfully he’d take over but… he couldn’t find out what was wrong with her. well until you later in the bed next to her. and it was okay again once more. “ im going to go take a shower alright, love?” you nodded, starting to drift back to sleep once more. when he came back, he tucked you under the blankets gently kissing you. the baby coos in her sleep as he picked her up, placing her into the crib. you slightly wake up as rafe gets into bed. “go back to sleep my love.”

[deatheaterv]

ENDEARING

pairing : james potter x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : james potter teases you ALOT

it started small. james potter, hogwarts’ golden boy, had taken a liking to you, and the entire school seemed to know it. at first, it was easy to ignore—the odd smirk across the great hall, a wave during transfiguration, and the occasional “you’re looking radiant today, y/n!” whenever he passed you in the corridors.

but then he ramped it up.

one morning, you were walking to charms when you heard it.

“oi, y/n! i’ve decided i’m gonna marry you!”

you froze mid-step, the bustling corridor falling silent as every single person turned to look at you. your eyes widened in horror, and you whipped around to see james standing at the other end, his hands cupped around his mouth as he grinned like a lunatic.

“what do you say? sound like a good plan?” he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

“i say you’re insufferable, potter!” you shouted back, your face burning.

he clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger backward. “ah, rejection. but don’t worry, love, i’ll win you over eventually!”

you stormed off, ignoring the muffled laughter and whispers from the other students.

it didn’t stop there.

a week later, you were in herbology, carefully trimming a particularly aggressive fanged geranium when james sauntered up to your station.

“looking good, y/n,” he said, leaning against the table with a cocky grin. “but you’d look even better if you let me take you out.”

you didn’t even look up. “potter, if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll feed you to this plant.”

“you’re feisty. i like that,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows.

“and you’re annoying,” you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he clutched his heart as if you’d stabbed him. “you wound me again, darling. one of these days, you’ll see how charming i am.”

“don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, focusing back on the plant.

the next day, he upped the ante.

you were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when james appeared, plopping down in the seat across from you.

“potter,” you groaned, not even looking up.

“just thought i’d keep you company,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at you.

“don’t you have quidditch practice or something?”

“i canceled it. you’re more important.”

you rolled your eyes. “please stay away.”

“sure, but a kiss first?”

“you’re unbelievably irritating,” you finally looking up to glare him.

he just laughed, completely unfazed. “come on, y/n, admit it. you’d regret it if you don’t want to.”

“not likely,” you muttered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

the teasing didn’t stop, but over time, you found yourself less annoyed by it. there was something about james’ relentless determination that was almost endearing.

one afternoon, you were sitting by the lake, enjoying the quiet, when james appeared out of nowhere, flopping down beside you.

“don’t you ever get tired of bothering me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“never,” he said, grinning. “so, what do you say? want to grab dinner with me tonight?”

“is this your way of asking me out?” you asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“obviously. i’m very subtle,” he said, smirking.

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous, potter.”

“ridiculously in love with you,” he shot back, his grin widening.

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words.

then there was the moment that truly caught you off guard.

it was a late afternoon in the courtyard, and you were sitting with lily evans, enjoying the crisp autumn air. james, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, his hair even messier than usual.

“y/n,” he said loudly, dropping to one knee in front of you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“making a declaration,” he said, pulling a small flower out of his pocket. it was slightly squished, but the gesture was oddly sweet.

“oh, merlin,” lily muttered.

“y/n, will you do me the honor of..”

“potter, i swear to god—“

“-letting me carry your books for the rest of the week?” he finished, grinning as he held out the flower.

you couldn’t help it, you laughed. james potter, for all his arrogance and teasing, was nothing if not persistent.

“fine,” you said, taking the flower. “but just for this week.”

“that’s all i need,” he said, standing up and flashing you a triumphant grin.

as much as you hated to admit it, james potter was growing on you. and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind being the center of his attention.

[warnersister]

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

Pt. 2

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Busted

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Rogue has a date, and you and Logan decide to follow. You're just making sure she's safe. But sometimes it's in moments like that, that you find out your 'husband' is the love of your life.

Disclaimer: Mostly chaos, fluffiness, fake dating, mentions of being a soldier, the claws come out briefly, a nosy book club and its members. Some swearing, steam and a little angst. I wrote this over two days so apologies if it becomes spotty. This is a long one. Not Proof Read.

Rogue had a date. 

Both yourself, Logan and…practically most of the teachers in the school knew about Rogue having a date. 

Yet, despite knowing all of this. And somewhat knowing the guy’s intentions…Logan had decided to follow them. 

And you had found yourself tagging along. 

“And what did you think you were gonna do when they figured out you were following them?” You asked him. “At least this way it just looks like we decided to pick up dinner in town.”

“At the same restaurant?”

“You ask that as if this wasn’t your idea.”

“Oh please,” Logan practically rolled his eyes at you. “I saw what you were actually looking at early. You were caseing the place.”

“I was looking at their opening times.” You countered, if a little harshly. 

“You were casing the joint and you know it. If I wasn’t coming down here, you would have already come.”

You gave a short, heavy sigh. “Fine. I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some kind of set up. I just want her to be safe and have fun.”

“And I want to make sure the guy isn’t a creep.” Logan finalised before opening up the door for you allowing you to step inside. 

“Hello, madam! Ah, good sir! Table for two?” The waiter looked at his list. 

Logan looked and felt a little out of place. He was hoping you could both enter quietly, not have an announcement made to the entire restaurant. 

“Uh, yea. Yes, please.”

The waiter smiled, picking up two menus. “Please, this way.”

“Logan.”

Logan followed your line of sight to see where Rogue and her date were sitting, smiling and laughing with one another as they looked over the menus. 

“Uh, actually, bub?”

The waiter turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“If you don’t mind we’d like to sit…” Logan looked around and found an empty table. “There.”

You saw where he pointed and realised why. Too far back into the restaurant, you’d pass right by the happy couple. 

Sitting where Logan was currently looking, gave you direct sight of the happy couple and with a chance, more coverage from the rest of the guests. 

“There?” The waiter asked, a little offended. “Oh, no, Sir. Please. We have a lovely booth for a couple such as yourself back here. Romantic candle light, a lot more privacy, no?”

You felt yourself blush at what the waiter was trying to subtly say. 

And it seemed that Logan caught on, too. And looked at you, unsure of what to do. 

You gave a small laugh and moved closer to Logan, “I’m sure, but you see, the thing is, my…”

You hesitated a little on your next words. “Husband.”

Christ, you felt that lie weigh on your chest. 

“He was in the army. Not a big fan of not being able to see the door. Just a habit, I suppose.”

The waiter gave a softer smile. “Ah, no worries.” 

Swiftly, he began leading you both towards the table Logan had pointed out. “My sister is serving overseas right now. We are all very proud. Thank you for your service, Sir.”

Logan gave an awkward smile and thanked the waiter before you both sat down with your menus. 

“I thought we were busted then,” Logan shifted in his seat. 

“So did I,” you replied. “So long as they don’t draw any-”

“So, what will it be?” 

Both yourself and Logan jumped at the waiter's sudden reappearance. However, he didn’t seem to notice as he began rattling off the specials. And then the wines. And then came the crash. 

Everyone’s heads turned inside the restaurant. 

Including Rogue’s. 

Quickly, you scooted your chair around so the waiter blocked you from view. By the time he turned back around, muttering about incompetencies about the newer staff members, he excused himself and headed in the direction of the crash. 

You saw Rogue settle her back to talking with her date and you breathed again, pulling your chair back to its original position. 

The waiter returned. 

“So, what will you be having?”

This time he blocked your view from Rogue’s table, giving Logan a clearer view of her date. You could see something flare up in Logan. 

“Uh, we’re gonna need another minute.” You said hurriedly, willing the waiter to walk away. 

And he did. 

For a moment. 

“Logan.”

He turned back to you. “What?”

“Have you decided yet?” The waiter was back. 

Logan took your menu from you and placed it with his before handing it over to the waiter, who seemed shocked for a moment since it took him just as long to realise what Logan was doing. 

“Two cheeseburgers, a side of fries and two sodas. Please.”

The waiter seemed to force his smile a little. “Of course, sir. Anything else?”

“No, thank you.” You replied and the waiter bowed his head before walking away.

For a split second as you looked at Logan, you felt a comfort in your gut. And apparently the look was still clear on your face when he looked back at you. 

“What?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it. “Nothing, just…well, the last time a guy ordered my food for me he ordered me a salad, with a side of vinegar and sparkling water.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Fuck no.” You answered honestly. You didn’t want it then, and you sure as hell didn’t want it now. 

Especially the sparkling water. 

Logan looked at you for a moment in a silence you hadn’t known from him before. Then he turned back to watch Rogue’s date. 

And there was that look again. 

“Logan. You can’t kill him from here.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

You nodded. “I know that. And so does everyone else in this restaurant. At least now I know why Scott doesn’t send you undercover.”

Logan turned back to you. 

“You might be the ‘mysterious, silent’ type but if someone took one look at your face, they’d find their answers.”

“Are you saying I’m easy to read?”

Someone came and placed your drinks down on the table. You shrugged. 

“To the people who know you, yes.”

“Okay, then. Fine.” Logan turned his full attention onto you. “What am I thinking?”

“That I’m wrong. And that you wished you had the powers of invisibility so you could be closer to the table without being seen and mess with her date whilst he can’t see you.”

Logan remained still for a second before shifting in his seat. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am easy to read.”

You smiled and took a sip of your soda. “See.”

For the next twenty five minutes, things ran smoother than expected. You both enjoyed your meals, yourself and Logan talked a little however spent most of your time watching Rogue and her date enjoy their time. 

“What would you do?” 

Logan hummed a questioned response. 

“If you took someone out on a date? What would you do?”

Logan scrunched up his paper napkin and placed it beside his plate. “Why do you want to know?”

You shrugged, looking away from Rogue’s date. “Curiosity? I’ve had that many crappy dates in my time, maybe you can rescue my last sliver of hope.”

Logan felt a smile on his face for a moment, hearing your plea for hope. 

“Oh, come on. They’re talking. If we look at them any longer they might sense someone staring.”

Logan sighed. “Fine.”

“So, what would you do?”

Logan shrugged. “I don’t know. Go for a drink, maybe some food. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve dated.”

“Seriously?”

Logan nodded. “Seriously. What about you?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, the last date I went on the guy ordered my food for me.”

“Sparkling water guy?” Logan asked. 

You nodded. “One in the same. He spent two hours talking about his businesses, and didn't notice I hadn’t touched my food. Or my drink, for that matter. Then at the end, said that if we ever got married, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than what I was going to make him for his dinner each night.”

“Fucking asshole. Why did you stay?”

You decided to answer honestly. “Didn’t have anything else to do. And my friends had been on my case about my dating life. They were all either married or getting married or starting a family, and when they said they knew this “really great guy, you’ll just adore him” I decided to give it a shot.”

“What did they do when they found out he was an asshole?”

“Couple apologised, others asked me to give him a second chance. They haven’t tried setting me up with anyone since.”

Logan watched you for a moment as you pulled your soda to your lips. He wanted to punch the Sparkling Water Guy. He didn’t realise how lucky he was to be on a date with someone like you. And, in all honesty, he wasn’t too happy with your friends either. 

“You deserve better.”

Your eyes widened and for a moment Logan thought he had fucked up, saying that to you out loud. 

“Logan. Logan, quick. Shit.”

Then he noticed where you were looking. Rogue was standing up, as was her date. 

“Shit.”

You looked around you, trying to find the best place to hide yourself. Only Logan found a solution. 

From under the table, he grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer towards him. 

“Just keep looking at me, hopefully we’ll just blur in with the rest of the crowd.”

And you did. You kept your eyes on Logan. 

In his peripheral vision, he saw Rogue slipping her coat on with her date’s help, who just so happened to rake his eyes up and down her body from the back whilst she wasn’t looking. 

Then he felt your hand on his. 

“Logan,” you whispered to him, getting his attention. 

With your hand on his, you were covering the tips of his claws that started peeking out from between his knuckles. 

“He’s just helping her put her coat on.”

Logan felt the tips of his claws retract, however three small holes were left in the cloth on the table beside his plate. 

“Sorry.”

You just smiled. “It’s okay.”

Then the waiter came back. “Ah, so lovely to see a couple so in love.”

You felt your cheeks go red and hid your face against Logan’s shoulder as he curled his arm around your back and smiled at the waiter. “Can we have the check?”

The waiter nodded. “Of course, just one moment.”

Within seconds, the waiter was back just as Rogue and her date walked out of the door. 

“Have a lovely evening!” The waiter called out to both of you as Logan took your hand and headed for the door. 

Rogue and her date were already half way down the street. 

“Where are they going?”

“Maybe he’s walking her to the cab station?” You offered. 

Logan, with his eyes still fixed on the dates, nodded his head in the opposite direction. “Taxis’ that way.”

Looking back at you, you both made a simultaneous decision and were back to following them. 

“Where the hell could they be going?”

“Maybe they’re just going for a walk. It is still early and they looked like they were having fun. Some couples like to take a walk together after a date.”

“They’re not a couple yet. And this is their first date.” 

You caught up beside Logan and pulled him to a slower pace so neither of you looked like frantic maniacs going down Main Street. 

“If we get any closer, they’re gonna see us.”

“You’re right.”

Yourself and Logan tailed them down the street and around the park before deciding to head back home. “If they’re coming round on the top of the street, they’re gonna see your car.”

Logan looked around him before taking hold of your hand and nearly pulling your arm out of its socket. “This way.”

“Logan, slow down.” You told him. “We aren’t all ten feet tall.”

Thankfully, he did slow down, however didn’t let go of your hand. 

“Do you think we did the right thing? Following them?”

You nodded. “I was questioning it at first but…at least this way we know the guy actually meant what he said when he asked her out. Oh, shit

“What?”

You just managed to push Logan into the doorway of a closed bookstore, pushing his back against the glass. 

“What are you doing?”

“Uhhh,” you panicked. “Nothing. Just a…puddle. Big puddle.”

“It hasn’t rained in three days. What are you-”

Logan stopped when he saw what you had seen. Rogue’s date was about to lean in to kiss her. 

You pushed him back, trying your best to keep him pinned to the wall. “Okay, I get we tailed them most of the night but we have to give them some privacy.”

“Did he even ask?”

“I don’t know, but just keep your voice down. The car is three spaces away. Hopefully they’ll be distracted long enough to-”

You peered back round the corner. “Oh, thank god.”

“What? What’s going on? Has hell opened up and sucked him in?”

You looked back at Logan, a little less than amused. “They’re going into the ice cream shop. Come on, before they see us.”

However, just as you both stepped out of the doorway, you found your path blocked by an elderly woman and her dog. 

She chuckled to herself. “Don’t mind me kids, just taking Frankie on a walk. And don’t worry, honey. I remember when I first met my Harry. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

You let out a nervous laugh as Logan looked like he was about to burst from embarrassment as he ran a hand through his hair, his shirt coming untucked and showing off a small hint of his torso. 

Mrs Keller watched where your eyes landed and gave you a knowing albeit loving smirk as she watched you move closer to Logan, tugging his shirt down a little and pressing close into his side. 

“We should get going. It was nice seeing you Mrs Keller.”

Mrs Keller waved you both off towards Logan’s car. “I’ll see you for next week's book club?”

You nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Feel free to bring your husband along,” she called back. “It’ll drive Little Miss Prissy up the wall that you’ve been keeping that Handsome Fella a secret.”

You laughed nervously once again, as Logan gave you a slight smirk despite his initial embarrassment at what the old lady thought you were both doing.  

“Good night, Mrs Keller.” You called out before Logan repeated it. 

She waved you both goodbye before continuing down the street with Frankie walking by her side. 

Closing the passenger door, you covered your face with your hands already feeling Logan’s eyes and teasing smile on you. 

“She was nice.”

“Shut up and drive.”

Logan chuckled, placing his key into the ignition and pulling out of his spot, his hand behind your headrest as he did so when looking over his shoulder. 

Barely five minutes into the drive, Logan started asking you questions. 

“You’re a part of a book club?”

“We all meet every fortnight and talk about books.”

“And Mrs Keller…?”

You sighed. 

“Is one of the founding members. I met her at the library one day when taking some books back. She was at the desk asking if they had the newest Danielle Steel. They didn’t, but I had seen it in the shop window in a bookstore on the other side of town. We walked together and she invited me to join.”

“How was the book?” Logan asked. 

“I cried.” You answered honestly. “First book I actually cried at.”

Logan let out a small laugh and you hit his arm whilst trying to hold in one of your own. “Don’t laugh.”

“I-I’m not laughing. Okay, maybe I am. I mean, it is funny. Is this where you’ve been disappearing every other Saturday?”

You nodded. “Pretty much. They’re a fun group. Well, most of them are.”

“Let me guess?” Logan asked. “Little Miss Prissy?”

You groaned. “She lives two doors down from Eva. Eva can be nice, but Prissy? God, she’s a nightmare. Every time it’s her turn to talk, she somehow manages to turn it back to her and her “ever doting husband” and their “precious baby niece and nephew” and “oh, look at how cute he is with them.” You know, we read American Psycho once. She still managed to turn it back to her husband.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you continued. “If she wanted to know about anyone else’s love life. Like…” you sighed, thinking of an example. “Mrs Keller? Her and Harry have been together since they were seventeen. They met when they were twelve, lived across the street from each other their entire lives. Mrs Keller had been stood up for one of the local dances by Harry’s friend. So, the minute he found out, he ran over to her house, still covered in motor oil and asked her to the dance. Mrs Keller deserves to write her own romance book for everything that her and Harry have done together. But can she get a word in edgewise? Nope.”

“Sounds like a love for the ages.” Logan said with a soft smile on his lips, looking at you before turning his gaze back to the road in front of him. “And by the sounds of it, Mrs Keller is going to give her something else to talk about.”

You covered your face again. “Oh, god.”

“Hey, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“How do I tell Mrs Keller I’m not married? She’s gonna think that I’m-”

“What if you didn’t?” 

You turned and looked at Logan. “What?”

“What if you didn’t? Tell them you’re not married? I mean, it’s not like they’re gonna meet me.” Logan explained. “Just…keep up with the lie.”

“And what do I do when they ask me questions?”

Logan shrugged. “Just…bend the truth.”

“Okay,” you sat up in your seat, deciding to test him. “How did we meet?”

“At work. We’re both teachers.”

“When was our first date?”

Logan thought about it. “Six months after we met. We decided to stay up late and ate leftover Chinese food.”

You furrowed your brows. How the hell did he manage to answer these so quickly? Sure, most of it was true. You were both teachers, and the first night you spent alone in the same room together was eating the leftovers in the fridge. Of course, what wasn’t being said was that you both actually met when Logan nearly bulldozed you when he ran into the Professor’s office just after he’d woken up in Jean’s lab. Or how neither of you had properly spoken to one another until that night six months later. 

Or how afterwards, it took a long time for you to make a genuine friendship with him that wasn’t just talking about the team or what the students had to learn in that semester. 

“And then what?” You asked him. “We kissed and lived happily ever after?”

Logan shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

You groaned again. “I hate lying to Mrs Keller.”

“You just lied to her like ten minutes ago. We both did.”

Eventually, Logan pulled up outside of the school and left the car back where he had found it. 

“Like we never left.”

You smiled. “Come on, before she gets back and figures out what we’ve been doing.”

Walking through the school ground and up the front steps, both you and Logan chatted away, laughing a little here and there about anecdotes you were telling him. 

Then you were alone in the middle of the empty hallway, cast in darkness and hints of moonlight. 

“We should get to bed before they get back.”

“I think I might stay up and wait for her to get back. Make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t have done.”

You stepped a little closer to him. “Be nice, Logan.”

“I’m always nice.”

You just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, fine.” Logan sighed a laugh. “I’ll be nice.”

“Thank you. Tell me how it goes?”

Logan nodded. “Course.”

However, as you both stood together in the hallway, soaking in the vision of the other, you both heard footsteps. 

“Shit.”

Logan looked around. “Here.”

Taking your hand, Logan pulled you into the small space besides the bookshelf and the window. 

Being pressed between the wall and him, you felt his scent and body heat swirl around you and mix with your own. Your own heartbeat was drumming so loud in your eardrums you could hardly hear what Rogue was saying when she was talking to her date. 

From above you, Logan leaned down, his eyes roaming across your face, whilst you found your own gaze doing the same. 

Your heartbeat seemed to drum harder and faster against your chest, your lungs trying to find an even pace to breathe at. 

But you weren’t the only one struggling with that. 

Because Logan’s breathing had become laboured as he looked at you, wanting the space between you both to be further so he could think clearer and not do something you both could regret, but at the same time, for you to be closer to him so he could cross that line. 

You swallowed thickly, trying your best to keep your gaze from his lips. 

You were failing. 

“Logan…”

“Y/n…”

The hand you had pressed against his chest slid up his chest before you took a wad of the loose fabric by his collar in your hands, holding him closer, begging for that line to be crossed. Just as you did so, his own hand pushed the hair from beside your face, his hand gripping onto the space between your neck and your shoulder. Maybe if he forced himself, he wouldn’t move his hand and he wouldn’t cross that line. 

“Alright, where are you two?”

You and Logan stilled. “Maybe if we’re quiet…”

Rogue started walking around. “You wouldn’t have gone to bed yet. Where are you? Oh, come on. I saw you both in the restaurant.”

You and Logan sighed and he closed his eyes, leaning a little further into you. You didn’t want him to leave. 

“Busted.”

Slowly, you and Logan came out from your hiding spot and Rogue spun around her heels. “There you both are.”

“Look, before you yell, you need to know something.”

Rogue crossed her arms, waiting. 

“It was Y/n’s idea.”

“Logan.”

But rather than yell, Rogue laughed a little. “Why does something tell me that’s a lie?”

Logan shrugged. “It might be part of a lie.”

You gave a sigh. He was hopeless. 

“We just wanted to make sure you were safe. And, if you want to know, we’ve already learnt our lesson.”

“Really?”

Logan nodded in agreement with you. “Just take our word for it.”

“So, how did your date go?”

Rogue smiled. “If you must know, we’re going out again next Saturday. He’s going to take me to the movies and then we’re gonna go bowling.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“It will be,” Rogue said. “So long as you two promise to not follow us this time?”

You crossed a sign over your heart. “I swear.”

Rogue waited for Logan to do the same, and only when you nudged him did he do so. “But I’m dropping you off.”

“Just agree,” you told Rogue. “It’ll be easier on all of us.”

Rogue agreed. “Fine. You can drop me off.”

Not long after that, both yourself and Logan went to bed whilst Rogue walked towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before doing the same. 

“Are we being overprotective?”

“She’s just a kid, Y/n. We’re allowed to be.”

Logan walked you to your door, both of you calling goodnight to each other. However, you didn’t fall asleep. 

At least for the first couple of hours. 

Mrs Keller thought you were married. 

Married to the same man you were friends with.

The same friend you had almost kissed. 

The same friend who had almost kissed you. 

By the time you woke up the next morning, you seemed to be the only one awake. It was no surprise though, considering you were still three hours off the clock having a one at the beginning of it. 

“Morning.”

You jumped a little when you heard a voice before you opened your eyes to confirm it was Rogue’s voice who had spoken to you. 

“What are you doing up? It’s 7 am. And a Sunday.”

Rogue gave a smile. “Could ask you the same thing.” Rogue told you. “Figured you’d be wrapped in Logan’s arms right now.”

Your back was to her as you opened up one of the doors to the fridge, however became completely still and forgot why you’d opened the damn thing in the first place. 

“What?”

Turning around, you saw Rogue and her smirk, sip at her coffee. 

“I saw you and Logan last night.”

Beside the bookcase? 

“At the restaurant?” Rogue was confused by the more than panicked look on your face. She had said she saw you both, when she got home last night, didn’t she. “You and Logan were sat at the table by the window?”

“Oh…” You felt your heart leave the vice you’d just locked it in. “Oh, yeah.”

Rogue smiled again. “Looked pretty cosy if you ask me.”

“Good job no one’s asking you.”

Milk. That’s why you opened the fridge. 

Taking the carton out, you closed it behind you and reached for a bowl and some cereal. 

“All snuggled up together, his arm around you. I was pretty sure he would have kissed you if the waiter didn’t interrupt. Though, if he didn’t, maybe you would have done more than kiss at that table.”

“Rogue!”

She laughed. “What? Oh, come on. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Seen the way he looks at you.”

She mumbled that last sentence into her coffee cup leaving you questioned just exactly what she meant by it. 

“It’s too early in the morning for this,” you grumbled to yourself, replacing the cereal box in the cabinet. 

“You could always go back to bed.” Rogue offered. “Or go and see if Logan wants some company.”

You turned around a slightly shocked, slightly disgusted look on your face. “Oh my god.”

“I’m kidding.” Rogue laughed out. “Kinda.”

“When did you grow up?” You asked out loud, coming to the daily realisation that Rogue wasn’t the little kid you had first met when she arrived at the school but was, in fact, very quickly on her way to becoming a full grown woman. After all, she had started taking on a small time tutoring job and she was still a couple months away from graduation. 

The rest of the day went smoothly. Well…as smooth as it could go when you were having a constant internal flashback to the night before. Mrs Keller and what she thought you and Logan were doing, it almost happening beside the bookcase, and then you walked in on him in his bathroom. 

He had said it was safe for you to come inside, and you had happened to see him shirtless a couple of times. Though never in sync with a time when at least two people on the planet thought you were married, another one was trying to convince you she saw, at the very least, something similar to what the others had and the two minutes spent beside the bookcase which you had thought about over and over. 

“Hank is asking if you want corn or peas.” You told Logan as you walked inside, trying your best not to yell or scream out loud and retreat away. 

“Either is fine. You okay?”

You snapped your eyes back to Logan’s face. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Fine. Have you talked to Rogue?”

“Not today,” he replied. “Why? Should I have done?”

You couldn’t help but shudder. “No. That kid is scary.”

You heard Logan laugh as you closed the door a little as you headed back out. 

“Hey, wait.”

You opened the door again, holding onto the frame for dear life. “Yeah?”

“About last night…”

“What about last night?” You tried your best to remain as casual as possible, though it didn’t help when you remembered Logan was practically a walking lie detector. 

He could hear your heartbeat. 

And it was only getting faster. 

You told yourself to calm down. 

It was only a question. 

A big question. 

That he hadn’t finished. 

Was he going to tell you to forget about it? Was he going to pretend it didn’t happen? Did it happen? Had you made the entire thing up? Was the line that you thought had blurred for a second been completely in bold this entire time and hadn’t shifted?

“Thanks…for coming with me…I know you would have gone anyway. But, I’m glad you didn’t try to stop me.”

You smirked a little. “Logan, you’re made of metal. The only practical way I could have is if I owned an industrial magnet.”

Logan chuckled a little. “Still. I’m glad you came. It’s nice to know the kid’s not alone, you know?”

You nodded. “I know. Anyway, I should probably…”

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, I’ll meet you down there.”

You nodded, letting your eyes take a mental picture of Logan before you shut the door again and headed downstairs and back into the kitchen. 

“He said either.”

Hank nodded and turned back to the stove. 

“You were up there for a while,” Rogue appeared by your side. “And you look a little flushed.”

You turned your head to look at her and glared. “I do not.”

“You do look a little red in the cheeks, Y/n.” Hank added from where he was standing, busying himself by the stove. 

“Maybe I’m coming down with something.” You pressed your hands to your cheeks to hide them. 

Rogue stood in front of you and pressed the back of her hand to your head. “You don’t feel hot, maybe- Oh, hey Logan!”

Rogue broke out into a wide grin.

Logan was a little shocked by Rogue’s enthusiasm. “Hey, kid.”

“Come here, does Y/n feel hot to you? She’s looking a little flushed.”

“Rogue.” You warned under your breath. But she just smiled and pulled Logan over where her hand was replaced by Logan’s. 

And there it was again. 

That same…difference. 

Just like when you stood in front of him when you both got back, before you hid beside the bookcase. 

“N-no. She feels…she feels okay.”

Rogue looked back at Hank who was trying his best to hide his smile. “Why, Logan, you’re looking a little flushed yourself.”

Logan quickly stepped back, as did you. Only, you fell into the counter and gripped onto it for dear life. 

You looked down at the floor. 

“Maybe you’re coming down with something, too. I hope it’s not catching.”

Logan shook his head. “I can’t get sick.”

Hank hummed. “Must be something else then.”

“Must be.” Logan’s voice was quiet as he looked at you and found you looking back. 

Though you couldn’t look for too long, feeling your cheeks heat up again. 

“I better-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna-”

Both yourself and Logan headed in opposite directions. Yourself out of the kitchen the way you came in, and Logan out through the back door and into the gardens. 

Eventually, you made it to your room and locked your door before moving over to the mirror. You did look flushed. Even more so when your brain projected the feeling of Logan’s hands on you from the night before, as well as the look on his face from thirty seconds ago. 

By the time dinner rolled around, yourself and Logan tried to keep your distance until you both suddenly found yourself seated beside each other, taking one look at each other and then taking a large gulp of your drink. 

Your main suspect for the forced seating arrangement was Rogue. She had been the one to lay out the cards. Three days previous, you were sure you had been sat beside her and Storm. 

And when you looked over to her and found her smiling in your direction, you had your confirmed culprit. 

For most of the night, you were kept distracted by the stories being told by everyone as you all caught up with one another from the past couple of months or so. 

It was a few days until things felt normal between you and Logan. At least to the extent where you didn’t feel yourself visibly flush at the sight of him. 

And everything seemed normal. 

Until Saturday. 

You had already left - Logan being the only one to know where you actually were heading off to. 

“Okay, but Logan, you’re not allowed to get out of the car.” Rogue told him. “You’re just dropping me off. And you’re not allowed to come into the movie theatre, either.”

“What if I want to see a movie?”

“Not tonight, you’re not.” Rogue told him. “I like this guy, okay. And I think having The Wolverine sat behind us both isn’t going to make things easier.”

Logan sighed. “Okay, fine. I won’t come into the movie theatre.”

“Promise?” 

Logan nodded, and crossed his heart. “Promise.”

“And you can’t send Y/n in, either.”

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. She’s busy.”

“Let me guess, on a date at the movie theatre?”

Logan held back his smirk. “No, smartass. She’s at a book club. But you can’t tell the others. She doesn’t want them to know.”

“Y/n’s part of a book club?”

Logan nodded and stifled a laugh as he flicked on his indicator and turned down a side street. “Yeah, it shocked me too.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious husband they’re all talking about?”

As a red light came on, Logan slammed on his breaks a little too hard. “What? How would you know about-”

“Y/n took me to the library. There were a load of women looking at her. She was outside but when I asked her about it she said it was nothing. But I definitely heard them talking about her being married.”

Logan looked back to the road. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah.”

“It's green.”

A car behind him honked and Logan quickly got moving, all the while feeling Rogue’s eyes on him. 

“Oh, my god.” Rogue smiled and turned back to the road in disbelief. 

“What?” 

Logan was beginning to feel a little panicked. Though he didn’t quite know why. 

“You are him.” Rogue stated. “Oh, my god. Is this what you meant by ‘learning your lesson’? Did something finally happen?”

Logan was confused. “Finally? What do you mean finally?”

“I mean finally.” Rogue repeated. “Jesus, Logan. Have you not seen the way you look at her? How she looks at you?”

“How she looks at me?” Logan questioned. 

Since when did driving Rogue to her second date become a time for confessions?

“Hank was right, you both really are as bad as each other.”

Logan had to shake his head. “Wait, Hank? Beast Hank?”

Rogue could help but laugh. 

For months Rogue had watched Logan and yourself get close to each other. She had to watch as the looks Logan gave you went from untrusted, to familiar, to friendly to…everything after the fact of trust. Not only could you see it in his eyes that he trusted you, but you could also see what he was too scared to admit to himself. 

He was in love with you. 

And had been for quite some time. 

Of course, Rogue had only noticed this in the last couple of months. 

Except, when talking with Hank as he cooked and she mostly watched and snacked on the parts he wasn’t using for the main meals, she realised it had been going on for years. 

How you had looked at Logan. Intrigue, civil, uncharted, familiar, friendly, safe and,,,love. 

And apparently Hank hadn’t been the only one in agony watching both of you. According to him, so were the rest of the team. 

They were all just surprised nothing had actually happened yet. 

“W-why are you laughing?” Logan’s gaze kept flicking from the passenger seat beside him to the road ahead until he finally pulled up outside the movie theatre. 

“Because you’re both idiots.”

Logan didn’t look entirely amused. “Thanks, kid.”

“Look, I could tell you but…you need to work this one out for yourself. Thanks for dropping me off.”

As Rogue stepped out of the car, she closed the door and walked away. However, a few paces from the car she stopped and turned back around. 

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna tell you.” 

Leaning back inside the car, Logan looked back at her. 

“You love her. And she loves you.” Rogue told him. “You’ve both loved each other for a long time and it’s about time you both do something about it before time passes and you’re both too chicken shit to do something about it. There is a reason everyone already thinks you're a couple, and that’s because when neither of you are thinking, you both act like it anyway. You should really see the way you look at each other, Lo. I hope I can find that some day, too. It’s rare. Don’t let it slip past you. Either of you.”

Rogue watched as Logan soaked in all of her words and then settled back behind the steering wheel. 

Reaching into her bag, Rogue pulled out a book. “This was on the counter when I came downstairs.”

Logan took it from her. It was a new book. The new book you would be discussing about. Tonight. 

“Figured she might need that. Maybe you can drop it off with her?”

Logan looked at Rogue and gave a smile. “Thanks, kid.”

Rogue shrugged. “Just mention me during your wedding speech.”

Shutting the car door, Rogue watched as Logan pulled out of his parking spot and drove down the street, turning the corner to head towards the address you had given him earlier that week. 

“Just in case you or Rogue needs me.” You had told him. 

Pulling up outside the house, KELLER written on the mailbox, Logan turned off the engine, took the book from the passenger seat and headed up the porch steps and knocked on the screen door. 

From inside he heard laughing before a familiar face opened up the door. 

“Oh, my. Logan, isn’t it?”

Logan nodded, trying his best to hide the flush on his cheeks. “Mrs Keller. I’m hoping Y/n is here. She left her book and I thought-”

Mrs Keller gave a wide smile and pushed open the screen door for him to come in. “Of course. The more the merrier. Your wife will be happy to see you, I’m sure. Follow me.”

As he did so, Logan soon found himself entering a second living room where around a dozen people were sitting in somewhat of a circle, either on the sofas or on the floor. 

“Look who’s come for a surprise visit!” Mrs Keller announced. 

Everyone turned with welcoming smiles and slightly shocked expressions. 

“Logan.” You weren’t expecting to see him. 

“Hey,” Logan breathed with a smile at seeing you. “Rogue. She picked up your book and I thought you might need it.”

You stood and took it from him softly. “Thanks.”

“Well, honey? Aren’t you going to give him a proper hello?”

Suddenly you and Logan felt a dozen pairs of eyes on you both and with a slight awkwardness, you leant up and kissed his cheek. 

“Oh, come on. Girls, I tell you. Last week they were like two teenagers.”

You felt your cheeks go bright red and you hid your face with the cover of your book. The only comfort was Logan’s hand that hadn’t left your hip since you stepped into him to kiss his cheek. 

“Oh, Logan, please. Will you stay?”

Logan looked around the room. It was the first time he understood the expression “Feeling like you were going to be eaten alive.”

“No, no. This is…your thing. I don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense! Besides, we’ve been dying to know more about our little mystery.” Mrs Keller said with nothing but affection. 

“Who knew mystery could have so much romance?” 

Logan turned to where the voice came from and by your reaction, he gauged the voice belonged to Prissy. Who’s name he would soon learn was Pricilla. 

“I’d love to.” Logan replied, looking back to Mrs Keller. 

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and got comfortable in her chair. “Oh, Darwin, honey, come and sit by me so the lovebirds can sit together.”

The sofa in which Darwin had been sitting was as big as a seat and a half. So, when Logan did finally sit down, you were practically sitting on his lap, the only comfortable position you could find yourself in was tucked in by his side, your legs over his whilst his hand held your knees on his thighs. 

Thankfully, your back was supported by the arm of the chair, but either way you felt yourself melt into Logan’s side, his body heat warming you. The fire Mrs Keller had on in the hearth was enough to heat the room but there was just something about Logan’s warmth that made it…different. 

“Oh, you two just make the most adorable couple.” Mrs Keller smiled, watching the pair of you, noticing the smiles you gave each other as you both finally got comfortable in being so close to one another. “Like no one else is in the room.” 

Logan heard Rogue’s words echo inside of his head. 

She was right. 

“Oh, you have to tell us how you met? Please.” Daisy asked from the floor beside the coffee table. 

Prissy coughed. “Aren’t we more interested in discussing this week’s book?”

A chorus of “No” sounded out. 

With a shlump, Prissy sat back with a noise stuck at the back of her throat. 

“Oh, tell us how you met!” Darwin called out. “Start at the very beginning.”

“You know it’s gonna be a good story when they look at each other like that.” Daisy added on. 

Prissy leaned forward. “You know, if you want a good love story, I can always tell you about how me and my darling husband met.”

Dawin groaned. Loudly. “We already know your story, Pricilla.”

“God knows we’ve heard it enough,” Mrs Keller mumbled. 

“We want a new story and we want to hear about Y/n and Logan.”

You looked at Logan and Logan looked back. Something seemed different about him. It was almost like something was gleaming inside of him. You just couldn’t figure out what. Or why. 

But you loved seeing a new side of him. 

There was just something that made your stomach flip and your heart grow when Logan showed you another side of him. A side he didn’t let people see that often. Sometimes a side he wouldn’t let himself see. 

“We met at work.” Logan told them. 

“Yeah, he nearly bulldozed me in the Professor’s office.”

“I did not.”

“You did.” You countered. “I almost got a concussion from how hard you opened up that door.”

“You weren’t even near the door.”

“No, because I jumped out of the way when you did.”

Mrs Keller smiled. “Let me guess, you didn’t get off on the right foot?”

You shrugged. “Not particularly.”

“It took time…about six months before we had a real conversation. And even then it took time.”

Mrs Keller smiled with a knowing look. “The best ones always do.”

Over the next two hours, you and Logan were asked question after question. Most of them scolding you for not mentioning or bringing Logan to the book meetings sooner so they could all meet him. 

Eventually, you did get onto the book you had all read. Prissy spent most of the time talking about the book and Logan got to witness first how she took the descriptions of a bird and placed the conversation back on her husband and what they had done during the week. 

The first time, Logan could see it almost as sweet. After that it just got tedious. 

But he couldn’t care. Not when he felt you fall into his side, allowing for his arm to come around your back, his hand fanned out across the exposed skin from your hip where your t-shirt had come untucked from your jeans. 

As the fire in the hearth settled into a constant warmth, people started to get more relaxed and cosier, pulling up blankets, putting on Mrs Keller’s complimentary cosy socks. 

Apparently she had a pair for everyone. 

“Let me go and get some more snacks and then we can talk about chapter fifteen.” Mrs Keller gave a small gasp. “I didn’t see it coming.”

But you shot to your feet. “No, you sit down. Let me.”

“Oh, thank you, dear.”

Sitting back down, Logan stood with you and walked into the kitchen with you. 

For a moment, you both talked about the book club and everything that had just happened before a comfortable lul came and you both realised you had to talk about the elephant in the room. 

“We need to talk.” Logan told you. 

“Do we?”

“Rogue told me something and it’s been on my mind ever since. And I can’t stop thinking how much she might be right.”

You poured some pretzels from the jar into a section of the dish. “Really? It must be bad if you’re agreeing with her.”

“Can you just…look at me for a second?”

You stopped pouring the snacks and looked at Logan, only for him to grab your hands and hold them in his. Running his thumbs over your knuckles, you forced yourself out of your thoughts and back to focusing on the real Logan in front of you. 

“I think I’ve known it for a while, I just don’t think I’ve been able to let myself know it because, if I do…look, I’ve lost a lot of people.”

He was scaring you now. 

“Logan, what’s going on?”

“I’ve lost a lot of people,” he finally looked you in the eye. “But I’ve come to realise you are not someone I can lose, Y/n. I don’t want to lose you. But if I don’t tell you something now, there might be a day when I could still lose you anyway.”

“Logan, you’re scaring me. Has something happened? What did Rogue say to you? I told you not to talk to her. That kid can be scary.”

Logan chuckled at that. It was true. Especially more recently. Very recently, in fact. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

You felt yourself falter and stiffen at his words. 

“You are the person I trust the most in this world, and I don’t say that lightly. I trust you and I love you. But I can’t lose you. So…” Logan took a breath. “Please tell me if I’m going to lose you because of this, because I don’t want to. I don’t want to ever lose you. Especially over something that I’ve done.”

“You…you love me?” You questioned. “Logan…how…when…Logan, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you…you just can’t.” 

You were in shock and disbelief. “I’m not someone you fall in love with.”

“Little late for that.”

“I’m being serious.” Pulling your hands from his, you walked away for a second. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You needed…you needed…

“So am I.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Logan…I…you…we…we don’t…”

“We don’t…what?” Logan asked you. 

“We don’t fit, Logan. We…we spent years building…us. Don’t you think that couples tend to know- if not instantly, a little sooner than us?”

“Y/n. I love you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I love you.”

Logan started walking closer to you, repeating his words with every step. 

“Logan, you don’t.”

Taking you by the shoulders, he looked you in the eyes. “Yes, I do. And…I’d wager to say you feel the same, too.”

“Logan…”

“Just listen to me.” Logan begged. “Please.”

And so you did. 

“Coming in here to tell you this? I didn’t expect you to tell me the same. I still don’t. I get you’re scared. Hell, I’m terrified. But the only thing that is keeping me from running out of that door is you. I know you, Y/n. And you know me, so when I stand here telling you that I love you, you know I’m not lying. You know that you are the only person I cannot lie to. I respect you too much to do that.” 

Logan continued. 

“But just now…you said ‘us’. And after what almost happened the other night and what happened in the kitchen with Hank…hell, even back there with the Town Gossip Board…”

Logan studied your face for a moment. You were fighting back tears, white knuckling the countertop beside you both.

“I can’t lose you, Y/n. So, please, tell me now. Just answer me this and if you want me to walk away I will. Do you love me?”

“Logan…”

Logan’s grip on you tightened for a moment as he bit his lip saying your name. He was desperate for an answer, wishing for you to say yes. For you to tell him not to walk away. 

He couldn’t lose you…but maybe he already had. 

“Please…” His voice broke. “Please.”

And then you broke. 

“Of course I love you.”

Pulling him in by his collar, you held your other hand against his face before kissing him. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was full of desperate and an outburst of emotion that you couldn’t put into words. You could only hope he knew what you meant by your kiss. 

Almost instantly you felt his hands come to your waist before he pushed against you, kissing you back, allowing his arms to snake up and around your back, holding you flush against his chest. All the while, his lips caught yours once more after half a breath. 

Your tears dried up and your hand fell to Logan’s side as he turned you, your ass bumping against the lower counter in the kitchen. A low groan came from the back of Logan’s throat as your hand dipped under his t-shirt and your fingers raked across his skin and up the side of his torso. 

However, just as Logan was about to lift you onto the counter, you both heard a voice call out from the living room. 

“Did you manage to find the pretzels? They’re in the cabinet above the stove!”

You and Logan pulled away, breathless. With his hands tangled in your hair and your forehead pressed against his, Logan forced a swallow, his cheeks heating as he smiled, still feeling your hand on his skin. 

“Yeah, we’ve got em’!” Logan called out. “We’ll be there in a second.”

You let out a small laugh, as did Logan. 

“How long have you got left here?”

You turned your head to look at the rustic clock above the kitchen dresser. “About an hour.”

“Make it 45?”

“50.” You gave it as an offer. “I still want to find out what they thought about Chapter twenty two.”

Almost out of arm's reach, Logan pulled you back. “Hey.”

“What?” You asked, allowing yourself to fall back into him. 

Looking at you, Logan smiled before brushing the hair from your face and leaving you with a kiss that left you a little stunned and dizzy in the best way imaginable. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Wait.” Logan said once more, before pulling you back. You laughed a little. 

“If we spend any more time in here, Mrs Keller is going to think we’re about to defile her kitchen.”

“We almost did,” Logan smirked watching your face heat before he started fixing your hair and your top. 

And you did the same with him. 

Finally walking back into the living room with the snacks, you and Logan sat back down together, your legs draped over his lap all the while your fingers subtly played with the ends of his hair, allowing your nails to run up and down the back of his neck every once in a while that had him shifting in his seat. 

You were out of there within forty minutes. 

But not before Mrs Keller gave Logan his own pair of cosy socks. 

“Yellow and blue,” she told him. “For some reason, they speak to me. They’re yours. You’re an honorary member. Feel free to drop in any session. We’d love to hear more about you two.”

Both yourself and Logan smiled before walking back to the car where he opened up the door for you before walking around and getting into the driver's seat. 

It took all of a month before everyone found out you and Logan had finally come together. Rogue and Hank seemed the most relieved that something had finally snapped between you two.

You both spent most mornings and nights tangled in each other’s arms, finally free to admit the truth to each other. 

You had loved Logan for a long time. And he had loved you just as long. 

Neither of you planned on stopping that any time soon. 

[demie90s]

To My Bed

Player!Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Paige Bueckers is a walking campus legend—basketball royalty, player-certified, and too fine for her own good. She can pull anybody… except you.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: slow-burn, college AU, smut, power play, tension, seduction, fluff with a sharp edge

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT. Sub!reader, dom!Paige, teasing, oral (f receiving), mild obsession, cursing, fingering, overstimulation, strap (later), praise/degradation

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ~ 5.6k

The first time Paige looked at me like that, we were in the same building but not the same world. She was walking out of the athletic center with a duffel half-zipped, surrounded by two girls I recognized from social media—the ones who always hung off her shoulder like a fresh tattoo. Laughing too loud. Touching too much.

She clocked me standing by the vending machine, hoodie on, AirPods in, tapping my student ID against the scanner like I didn’t feel her eyes. But I did. I always do.

There was a pause in her step. One beat. Like something about me cracked her rhythm. I didn’t even glance up. I just pulled out my water, turned, and walked off like I hadn’t just caught the attention of Paige Bueckers.

Everybody knew who she was. Star player. Big ego. Bigger following. Blonde, tall, the kind of white girl that looked good in team sweats and gold jewelry. And yeah, she was fine. But I didn’t care. Not really. Because girls like her didn’t surprise me.

She was a story I’d read before—multiple times. Pretty cover, predictable ending.

That’s the difference between me and her little fan club. They saw her and got starry-eyed. I saw her and kept walking. And maybe that’s what set me apart. Or maybe I just looked like a challenge.

Whatever it was, Paige started popping up. At the coffee shop I studied in. At the library where I liked the third floor because it was quiet. Once, she sat across from me in the dining hall—uninvited—grinning with a milkshake like we were on a date.

“You gone give me a chance?” she asked one day, her voice low, smooth. Like the answer was already yes.

I looked at her, finally—full eye contact, nothing playful in my tone. “All these bitches and you want me? Girl, go head on.”

She blinked, like she wasn’t expecting that. Then she smiled. It was slow, amused, and a little dangerous. “Exactly.”

I went back to my notes.

It kept happening. Her showing up. Me brushing her off. Her trying again. The thing about Paige is she didn’t know how to lose. And she hated that I wasn’t folding.

She tried being cute. Then she tried being smooth. Then she tried acting like she didn’t care. But I’d catch her watching me from across the room, chewing her lip, pretending she wasn’t thinking about it. And I wasn’t blind. I knew what she wanted. She wanted to fuck. That was it. She was curious. Intrigued. Maybe even obsessed. But she didn’t know me. Didn’t know what kind of person she was chasing.

I wasn’t a prize you flexed. I was the kind of win you keep quiet. So I kept saying no.

Finals week turned the whole campus into a quiet warzone. People were crying in stairwells, sleeping on keyboards, praying in vending machine lights. I was locked in on a neuroscience exam, hoodie up, noise-canceling headphones on, half a Celsius and three highlighters deep. My laptop was glowing, my notes color-coded, and I had just hit a mental groove when I felt a disturbance in the force.

A very blonde, loud, blue-eyed disturbance.

“Bro,” someone whispered two tables over.

“Oh my god,” another said. “Is that Paige Bueckers?”

I didn’t look up. I already knew. Three months. That’s how long she’d been on this. And I mean on this. Me. Chasing me like I was a championship ring. Her little hoes had been whispering about it for weeks now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who tf is she?” one of them had asked in the student center, all attitude and edge control.

“Cool the tone,” I said, not even blinking. “Cause I’m the wrong one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was the end of that. But Paige? She didn’t end. She kept showing up. Kept calling out. Kept smiling like I wasn’t already ten rejections deep.

Today though…She broke the damn library. Her sneakers squeaked across the linoleum before the door even shut behind her.

“MISS BUECKERS,” Mrs. Monroe snapped before Paige could get past the security gate. “This is a quiet floor!”

“Hush, Karol with a K,” Paige said without missing a beat, “I’m fighting for love.”

A few people giggled. Others gasped. I was fighting the urge to throw my damn textbook.

“Paige!” someone hissed. “Ignore her, Mrs. Monroe!” But Paige didn’t stop.

“GIVE ME A CHANCE AND I’LL STOP YELLING!” she shouted into the silence. “I PROMISE!”

“Paige—”

“KAROL SHUSH ME ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR TO GOD—”

I slammed my laptop shut, stood up slow, and marched toward her like a damn mother on Parent-Teacher Conference day. Paige opened her mouth to say something else, but I grabbed her arm mid-sentence and yanked. Grip tight. Firm. A warning.

The whole library paused like I’d pulled a fire alarm. Paige followed, stunned but grinning.

“My bad,” she muttered as I dragged her toward the exit. “But also… not.”

She was warm under my fingers. Strong. Her bicep flexed against my palm as I pulled her through the doors, and yeah… okay. She felt good. Built like sex in a Nike tee. But I didn’t let it show.

Outside, she shook her arm loose and laughed, like I hadn’t just embarrassed the hell out of both of us.

“You mad?”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m confessing.”

I glared. “You’re embarrassing.”

She stepped closer. Just a little. “You like me though.” I tilted my head. Calm. Flat. “I’m not sure I do.”

She smiled again. That slow, cocky Paige Bueckers smile like she knew something I didn’t. But she had no idea. I’d been celibate for months. Saving every ounce of want. Not just for anyone—for this.

She was still smiling like a fool when I let go of her arm.

“…You gonna give me a chance?” Her voice dropped, like whispering made it sweeter. It didn’t.

Then—louder. “I’LL KEEP YELL—”

“Oh my god, shut the hell up,” I snapped, fed up, absolutely done with the dramatics, finals, and her fine-ass breath in my face.

“Fine.” It was like the world froze. Like the campus paused to blink.

Her eyes widened, lips parting like she hadn’t expected that to actually work. Three months of showing out, begging, performing—and all it took was me getting genuinely annoyed and giving in.

Before I could regret it, Paige leaned in quick and kissed my cheek. Just a light press. Soft. Like she didn’t wanna scare it off now that she finally got it.

And then she turned and left. Walked off with her dumb little swagger, hands in her pockets like she hadn’t just hit the biggest win of her damn career.

I stood there blinking . Still a little warm on my cheek. Still a little mad. Still a little… intrigued. That bitch really kissed me and walked away. She was lucky I didn’t call her back. She was even luckier I wanted to.

The Next Day

I should’ve known better than to think I’d have the day to myself.

It was Saturday. Finals were frying everybody’s brain cells, so I figured I’d get a little peace. Hood up, sweats on, playlist low, incense burning. I was stretched across my bed, phone in one hand, journal in the other, halfway between a nap and pretending to care about my to-do list.

Then I heard it.

Knock knock knock knock knock.

Loud. Disrespectful. I didn’t move. Maybe if I ignored it, it’d go away.

“Open up!” a voice called through the door, too familiar, too bold. “I know you home. Don’t be fake now, we made progress!”

I sighed hard. “Paige…”

“Come on, baby. Don’t act new.”

A pause.

“I said what I said yesterday and meant it! You remind me of—of something real! Something soulful!” she yelled through the door like we were in a music video. “I just don’t know what it is yet! That’s what make it special!”

I opened the door before she started harmonizing.

She stood there in sweats and a crop top, curls loose, one dimple deep as hell from how hard she was smiling. Like she wasn’t a walking red flag who got curved a hundred times before I finally gave in.

“What?” I deadpanned.

“You just my type,” she said instantly. “Everything just right.”

I tried to close the door.

She slid her foot in like a damn action movie. “Okay-okay-okay! I’m sorry. I’m just sayin’, like… let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good.”

I raised a brow. “You came to my door quoting Kid Ink and Chris Brown?”

“They made points.”

“You’re a problem.”

“Maybe,” she grinned, stepping inside uninvited. “But I’m your problem now, right?”

I didn’t answer. She didn’t need me to.

She walked in like she lived there. Took one look around my room, nodded like she approved, then turned back to me with that same wild confidence that got her in trouble every time.

“Look,” she said, quieter now, “I know you think I’m just tryna fuck. But I’m tryna earn it. Swear to God. No funny shit.”

“You still a hoe in my head,” I said, arms crossed.

She walked closer.

“But I only want you right now.” Her eyes dropped, voice low. “Don’t care who I came with. Don’t care what they saying. I’m not even touching anybody else. Not since you told me ‘fine.’”

I blinked. She wasn’t lying. I could see it on her face—her usual cocky smirk was replaced with something else. Hunger. Patience. That itch people get when they need something. And suddenly I realized… she wasn’t chasing me just to fuck.

She wanted to feel.

“Paige,” I warned, but it came out soft. Too soft.

She tilted her head, voice husky. “Let me put your panties to the side.”

I shoved her shoulder hard, but she caught my wrist. Gently.

“Don’t play with me,” I muttered.

“I’m not,” she said. “I’ll work for it. You want slow? I’ll be slow. You want silence? I’ll whisper. Just don’t lock me out again. You already live in my head—I’m just tryna be where you at.”

Damn.

I hated how good she smelled. How warm her fingers felt on mine. How badly I’d been pretending I didn’t want this too.

So I said nothing. She kissed my cheek again. Slower this time.

I expected her to flirt. Maybe sit on the edge of my bed and keep running that smooth little mouth of hers. What I didn’t expect was for Paige Bueckers—basketball legend, loudmouth, fuckgirl extraordinaire—to freeze, blink at me like she forgot how to breathe, then run.

I mean sprint. Straight down the hall, out the building like she just got subbed into the fourth quarter with ten seconds left and no fouls to give.

“I’LL BE RIGHT BACK! WAIT THERE!”

“Paige, stop yelling!”

She ignored me. Straight up ignored me like I hadn’t just opened my door in boxers and a bonnet looking confused. The hallway echoed with her footsteps, then silence.

I sighed. Locked the door. Sat back on my bed.

Three minutes passed. Four. Five. I rolled my eyes, ready to call her dramatic and block her until graduation. But then I heard it.

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy. Getting louder.

Knock knock knock—

I yanked the door open before her hand landed. She was standing there, out of breath, hair slightly wind-blown, and her arm cocked back like she was about to knock the life out of me.

“Hit it if you want to.”

Her eyes jumped. She looked like a kid caught throwing a rock through a window. “…I wasn’t. I was joking.”

I looked down. She was holding flowers. Not some gas station bundle either. Tulips. My tulips.

Pink, orange, yellow—bright and loud like her. I couldn’t even hide it. My face softened. All that irritation melted into quiet surprise.

“You…” I started, then stopped. “How’d you even—”

“You said it once,” she shrugged, sheepish now. “Back in March. You was mad cause someone stepped on a tulip bed by the rec center. Called ‘em dumb as hell.”

I blinked. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything about you,” she said, lifting the bouquet up like an offering. “Now can I come in… or you still mad?”

I took the flowers. Held them to my chest without thinking.

“You still a hoe,” I mumbled.

She grinned. “A hoe with a heart.”

I stared at her. At the girl who sprinted through campus for flowers just to impress someone who didn’t even text back. And I almost told her to come inside.

But I didn’t say a word. I just stepped back. Left the door open. She walked in quiet for the first time ever.

I tried. I swear I tried.

I held out for months. Closed legs, closed DMs, closed door. I stayed strong when she flirted in public, when she begged on FaceTime, when she said she was having dreams and waking up mad at me for not letting her taste.

But a bitch has limits. She wore mine down like waves on rock.

It was a Thursday. I had dinner with my girls—good food, good laughs, one little glass of wine, and the entire time my phone was lighting up like I was somebody’s emergency contact. And in a way? I guess I was.

P: Wyd

P: Hello?

P: I’m bored

P: Can I come over?

P: Lemme eyp

P: Please

Lemme eyp.

Eight letters that made me sit up straighter than the cocktail I was sipping. Eat the cat? For free? Hell yeah. But I kept cool. I let her text. Let her beg. She was in her digital hoe era—no punctuation, no shame. ADHD in message form.

I answered once, just to give her a crumb.

Me: please stop. (translation: don’t stop get it get it)

P: Please. 5 minutes. 2 max 😊

Such a damn hoe. I bit back a smile. Put my phone away. And didn’t reply the rest of the night. But I knew. Ouu child, I knew.

By the time I got home, I had already cleaned up, lit a candle, slipped into my little pajama set like I was going to bed. I wasn’t. I laid on my back, phone in hand, finally ready to text her “come thru”—and right as I typed the C in “come,” there was a knock knock knock at the damn door.

I stared. Because what the actual fuck. I opened it and she was there. Breathless. Giddy. Bouncing on her toes like she just got drafted again.

“What if I was asleep?” I asked, not moving.

“You weren’t,” she grinned. Then she scooped me. I mean full lift-off, bridal carry. Walked right in, door shut behind us like she rehearsed it.

I squirmed a little, caught between turned-on and annoyed. “Damn, you excited.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, already carrying me to bed. “I’m going through withdrawal. I need this.”

“Girl calm down,” I muttered, but I was lowkey melting.

“Take them shorts off.”

I blinked. “Damn, I had a good night. Thanks for asking.”

She leaned down, voice a whisper now, against my ear. “…Take them fucking shorts off.”

My body moved before I could argue. She watched me like I was holy. Like she studied this moment. Like this was the final exam after a full semester of chasing. The way she looked at me made me nervous. Not scared—nervous. Like she could see through my front. Like she knew I needed this just as bad.

I laid back, tried to relax. And she opened my legs so gently it made me shiver. Kissed my inner thigh once. Twice. Then looked up at me like she was about to change my whole belief system.

She devoured me like it was instinct. Like she dreamed about this. Trained for this. Studied it like a playbook and came hungry to the exam.

Tongue first—broad and flat, dragging up slow like she needed to taste everything before she focused in. Then lips. Hot and open and wrapped around my clit like she meant it. Not soft, not hesitant—like her mouth belonged there. And I swear, it was like my body recognized her before I could even moan.

My hand went straight to the back of her head. Not to push her off—hell no. To pull her closer. I didn’t want distance. I wanted pressure. I wanted her in it. She licked again and I swear, my thighs twitched on instinct.

And then she started sucking.

Deep. Rhythmic. Like she was sipping out of a damn smoothie cup and I was the last drop.

I couldn’t even pretend to stay quiet. My mouth fell open, breath hitching, moans slipping out broken and desperate. Eyes fluttering, rolling back, but I couldn’t close them—couldn’t stop looking down at her between my legs, locked in like she was starving.

And the sounds.

The wet. The slurp. The way her mouth kept catching and dragging, those soft growls vibrating straight through my core like she couldn’t help herself. Like her body needed it too. I tried to move, tried to shift back just a little because it was too good—but she reached up fast and grabbed my wrists, held them in her hands like anchors, and pulled me down.

Pulled me into her face.

She moaned right against me like she was thanking God and I was the prayer. And yeah, it was lowkey cute. Her holding my hands. Locking fingers like we was in love or something. But I didn’t care about the sentiment. I was too busy falling apart.

Eventually, she came up for air. Lips shiny. Eyes wild. And I thought maybe she was done, maybe I was safe. But nope.

She stood up, slow and smug, then lifted me like I was light. One arm under my back, one under my knees. Placed me higher in the bed like I was royalty she was repositioning to be worshipped properly.

Then she pulled off her shirt.

Left in nothing but her sports bra. Abs flexed, face flushed, lips parted. I was already shaking and she hadn’t even touched me again. She climbed onto the bed and got low—slid down my body without ever breaking eye contact.

She looked so fine moving like that. Focused. Possessed.

And then she laid down. Flat on her stomach. Arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling me over her face like she was setting the table. I let my legs spread and she dove back in—no hesitation. Tongue faster this time, more precise, and I was already close again.

I squirmed, hips jerking, but she kept moving. Switched to her side, grabbed my legs and held them back. Bent me damn near in half while she slid in upside down and kept eating. The angle hit different. Her tongue slid up, sharp and greedy, and she moaned with every lick like I was feeding her soul.

And then added fingers.

Two of them, slow and smooth, curling like she knew exactly where I needed her. My back arched. My thighs trembled. She sucked and pumped, fingers slick and deep, tongue pressed flat while she watched me.

Eyes still open. Still on mine. And I couldn’t look away.

The fingers should’ve been a warning. She knew what she was doing.

She was already eating me like I was her favorite meal, like this was her last supper and I was plated just for her—but those fingers? That was criminal. Straight assault.

Two of them, slow and deep, curling just right like she practiced. Like she’d taken notes. Like she knew my body before I even touched her.

And when she added that pressure from her tongue on my clit? I lost it. Again. For the umpteenth time. It wasn’t even cute at that point. I was damn near twitching. Moaning with my mouth wide open, one hand gripping the sheets and the other still caught in her grip like she refused to let me run.

I came so hard I forgot my name for a second. And then she stopped.

I was barely breathing, still shaking, chest rising fast, when she pulled her fingers out and sat up slow—grinning. Like she was proud of herself. She brought her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean, one by one, looking me in the eye while doing it. Like she wasn’t just trying to get the taste. Like she was reliving it.

“Girl,” I breathed, voice cracked.

She leaned in again. Grabbed my jaw with one hand, firm and possessive, and opened my mouth. She didn’t ask. Didn’t move slow. Just pushed her fingers past my lips, two slick digits that still tasted like me. I moaned around them—loud. My thighs jumped. My tongue moved without thinking.

“You taste so damn sweet,” she mumbled against my lips, still rubbing her fingers slow on my tongue as she kissed me messy and deep. Her lips were wet, her jaw tight, her voice all breathless and cocky like I hadn’t just melted under her.

I whined into her mouth, couldn’t help it. That whine you do when your body say it’s done but your soul say keep going. When your eyes roll but your hips still lift.

She pulled back just enough to look at me. I was pouting. Eyes closed. Face turned like I was mad, but really I was just overstimulated and obsessed.

“You want more, mama?” she asked soft.

“Paigeeee…” I moaned, dragging her name out like it hurt.

She just laughed. Low and smug.

She already knew I was gay. Grown. She seen my bedroom. She seen my little drawer when I opened it too fast that one time. I had toys, okay? Good ones. But I didn’t use ‘em like that. Not all of them. One in particular? Still in the box. Shiny and intimidating. Heavy. That strap wasn’t for beginners and I wasn’t trying to fuck around with it. Too much work. Too much pressure. That was a two-man job and I ain’t had no man, no woman, no nothing.

She opened the drawer while I was still catching my breath.

Held it up like a damn trophy. “This one?”

“Girl I don’t even use that—”

She looked at me over her shoulder, smirking. “Let me.”

I blinked. “That shit hurts.”

“Let me make it feel good.”

My mouth opened. Nothing came out. She just grinned. Strap still in her hand. Her sports bra still clinging to her chest, abs tight from holding me down all night, curls messy and eyes hungry.

She knew. She knew I was gonna let her. And I hated how bad I wanted it.

I needed a break. I don’t say that often—but I meant that shit with every breath I was still trying to catch.

Paige gave it to me too. Real gentle-like. Set the strap down, kissed my thigh, mumbled something about water, and walked out. I laid there, eyes shut, chest still rising like I ran sprints in stilettos. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My thighs were trembling like I owed them an apology. My lips were puffy, wet, throbbing—and she wasn’t even done.

Somewhere between breaths, I heard the soft click of the drawer again. Buckle sounds. A low, smug laugh under her breath. That was Paige. She was proud of herself. She was prepping like this was a fucking game and she already knew she’d win.

I didn’t even open my eyes. Just sighed and let the sheets cool me off. Until I felt her over me.

“Girl…” I muttered, eyes fluttering open.

She was hovering—arms on either side of me, hair falling in her face, that damn strap sitting thick and perfect between us. Her sports bra was still barely hanging on. Her smile looked sinful. Like she was excited. Like she missed me. It hadn’t even been ten minutes.

I rolled my eyes. “Paige don’t pla—”

“Hush.”

And I did. Quick. Because she pressed that tip right against me. No warning. Just enough pressure to shut me the fuck up. My legs twitched open on instinct, hips tilted like they had a mind of their own. My breath caught.

“Shit.”

She didn’t even move yet. Just rubbed it there, slow. Slick and teasing. Up and down my folds like she was dragging it through warm honey.

“You probably right,” she whispered, voice thick with heat. “You can’t handle this shit.”

“Paige, pl—”

She pushed in. Not slow. Not fast. Just deep. Steady. Intentional. And I swear to God I saw stars behind my eyelids.

My back arched. My arms wrapped around her without thinking. And she stayed right there—pressed to me. Eyes locked. Face soft. Too soft. We were chest to chest. Her breathing matched mine. Her hand came up and cradled the back of my neck like she needed to keep me grounded.

Missionary. The most intimate fucking position. And it was filthy.

Because the sounds? Disgusting.

Wet. Sloppy. Loud. The way the strap moved inside me had me gasping, legs shaking around her hips like I didn’t know how to take it. The way she rolled her hips—grinded, not just thrust—made it worse. The bed was banging against the wall like it had something to prove.

I was so lucky I didn’t have a neighbor on that side. Shit would’ve been a noise complaint with a side of trauma.

“Shit… you feel that?” she moaned, kissing me again.

I tried to kiss back, but I couldn’t focus. My lips parted and all I could do was moan into her mouth. She felt too good. Deep and full and close. Every time she bottomed out, my whole body jolted.

Then she started to tremble.

Her strokes got messier. Breath shorter. She felt it too. Her head dipped into my neck as she let out this guttural moan and started moving faster. I swear she came. You could feel the change in her. The urgency. Like something broke in her.

She stayed there for a second, forehead against mine. Our breaths tangled. Then she moved again. Lifted me like I weighed nothing and flipped us.

“I wanna watch,” she breathed, voice hoarse. Now I was on top. Straddling her. Strap still in. Her hands on my waist. I started slow. Just a little bounce. Just to get my rhythm.

But once I found it I chased that orgasm like it owed me money.

My hips rocked forward, rolling with precision. She matched every movement—thrusting up into me just enough to make me lose it. My hands gripped her chest, one bracing against the wall. Sweat slicked my skin. My head fell back. Moans filled the room like we weren’t worried about shit but each other.

Paige was watching me the whole time. Eyes half-lidded. Lips parted. Hands gripping my hips like she was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck… you ridin’ it so good” I cried out. Couldn’t even reply. Could barely breathe. Because the way she moved up into me? Perfect.

It was too much. Too good. Too deep. I came hard—again—right there in her lap. Shaking. Loud. Holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping me from slipping through the bed.

And when I collapsed on top of her, spent and messy. She kissed my temple. And whispered, “Told you… you couldn’t handle this shit.”

I was done. I mean tapped out, retired, jersey-in-the-rafters type done. Could barely walk straight. My legs were jelly, my throat dry, my whole existence overwhelmed by one smug-ass strap-wielding woman named Paige Bueckers.

After we caught our breath and gathered the scattered remnants of our sanity, we moved like old women. Limps and groans. The sheets were a war zone. She helped me to the bathroom, both of us laughing like we hadn’t just made the bed frame beg for mercy. I showered slow while she started the laundry—yes, started the laundry like we was domestic or something.

I finally sat on the edge of my bed, oversized tee on, bonnet back in place, body humming with the kind of ache that only comes after being wrecked properly. I figured that was it.

I was wrong.

“Wait…” she said, voice too chipper. I already knew.

“I wanna try a position.” I didn’t even open my eyes. “No, Paige.”

“You don’t gotta do nothin.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly fell back. But I still let her help me limp to the living room, where I collapsed onto the couch like a wounded soldier. She followed right behind me, and as soon as I turned, SMACK—her hand landed hard on my ass.

“OWW!”

I turned fast, eyes wide. “You play sports! What the fuck!?”

She grinned like a child caught in a cookie jar, hands rubbing the same ass she just tried to knock off.

“Just fah that,” I muttered, voice dragging, “you ain’t gettin’ shit else. Leave me alone.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” she giggled, pressing kisses to my thigh like that would save her.

I kicked her lightly. “No you not.”

She just smiled. That big, dumb, post-sex, in-love smile. The kind of smile that made you forget she still had girls watching her stories and reposting old pictures like they had a chance.

So she said it. Quiet.

“…you know you mine now, right?”

She paused. Then grinned harder. “Tell them hoes that, Paige,” I added, lips barely moving, tone sweet but shady. She was saying dumb shit after breaking my pussy and trying to eat it again like I hadn’t almost passed out.

But I still reached for her. Pulled her down so I could lay on top of her, face buried in her chest like she was a pillow that talked too much.

“…you gon’ let me eat it ag—”

“Girl, are you not tired?” I said, lifting my head just enough to glare at her. My voice cracked like I was being bullied.

She giggled, soft and smug, and pecked my lips once. Then again. “You so pretty.”

I caved. Don’t even remember when, just felt myself relax again—whole body melting into hers while she rubbed this fat ass like it was her personal comfort item.

And right there, chest to chest, warm, sleepy, and sore—I thought, Damn. I’m down bad. But I didn’t mind. Not one bit.

I was out like a light. Couch cushion under my cheek, blanket halfway over my ass, body limp like a ragdoll left in the toy aisle. Paige was up before me—somehow. Probably off pure athlete adrenaline and freaky satisfaction.

We didn’t even make it to the bed last night. She wore me out and I just collapsed right there, tangled up in her arms and that damn strap still in my dreams. She looked at me for a while, I’m sure. That dumb little grin on her lips like she just solved a riddle no one else could crack.

When she got up she carried me. With arms that should’ve been sore, legs that should’ve buckled, Paige scooped me off that couch and took me to bed. Tucked me in like she wasn’t just rearranging my guts four hours prior. Quiet. Gentle. Still smelling like me.

She had to go—practice, meetings, whatever. She didn’t live here, even if her energy stayed behind like a ghost with boundary issues. She let me sleep. I mean really sleep. Deep, warm, peaceful. That I ain’t got no worries sleep. That I just got fucked dumb sleep.

At some point, my phone rang. Her name lit up the screen. I didn’t even move.

Paige: “You hungry?… You still sleep? It’s 3PM?”

She got silence. I was deep in a dream about nothing. Just floating in rest. She hung up and ordered food anyway. Of course she did. Because that’s what hoes in love do when they know they broke you right.

I didn’t wake up until five.

Half the damn day gone. But I loved that. I needed that. My body felt like it had just returned from war, but my spirit? At peace. I still did my little morning routine—brushed my teeth, washed my face, fresh pair of shorts, bonnet adjusted—and then, naturally, laid my ass right back down.

Not even five minutes later—ding.

Paige: open the door

I blinked. Girl. I just sat down. I opened the door anyway.

There she was. Sweats, curls tucked in a hoodie, holding a smoothie and smiling like the sun never sets on her confidence. “Hey, pretty,” she said.

I wasn’t smiling. I turned right around, walked back to my room, climbed under the covers like her whole fine self wasn’t standing in my doorway.

She followed me, of course. Set everything down. And then picked me up. No hesitation. Full straddle. One arm around my back, the other under my thigh.

I was half-asleep, limp in her arms, but still trying to act irritated. Didn’t work.

“Eat,” she whispered, kissing my temple.

“Paige… I’m tired,” I mumbled into her shoulder.

“And sexy,” she muttered back, sitting us both down and adjusting me like I was her favorite accessory. “Eat.”

She held the smoothie straw to my lips. I sipped once. She pecked my lips.

“Open your eyes.”

I cracked one open. She grinned.

That’s how it was with her. She broke me down, built me back up, and still made me feel like I won something.

And yeah…I laid right back down. On her chest. While she rubbed this fat ass again like it was her new hobby.

And if she asked to eat it again?

…I’d say yes.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan

[cheshirebitch]

Sleepless Nights

Eddie Munson x Reader

*Another one. This one was inspired by the song Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood.

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Sleepless nights were common for me. Minutes, hours, and sometimes even days before I finally crash to sleep. It has always been a secret of mine. Ever since Dustin brought home that stupid "pet", I haven't slept good since.

It's crazy how everyone else just simply pretends it never happened and like it couldn't come back again. Just because El raised her power hands and "closed" the portal doesn't stop someone else from opening it. I mean she never disclosed how many of them there were at that place she was raised at. Why is it I am the only one ever thinking about it?

Every night, every minute of every hour, I am stuck thinking "what if...", "what if...", and "what if...".

If I'm being so honest, I'm glad Dustin or his friends don't have the same problem as me. They are just kids, it's bad enough they had to go through what they did. I mean Max lost her brother Billy, not that I appreciated him threatening my friends, brother, and brother's friends. He was still a person and his death was traumatic for all parties involved. I have never seen Hopper or Joyce so strict on us checking with them.

Maybe they have the same sleepless nights that I do...

I pity them if so, but at least they have each other.

I watched over Dustin sleeping. All his friends and mine came over for a movie night, sponsored by Steve Harrington himself. My hands gently brush Dustin's hair before pulling his blanket up over him more. Sighing and gazing at everyone else sleeping.

Max was curled on the couch with Lucas, Mike and Dustin side by side on the floor, Steve and Robin on the other end of the couch with a small gap of where I was, and then Nancy on the chair. I didn't invite Eddie due to him having his other friends over at his trailer tonight.

I couldn't help but stare at all them sleeping so soundly, biting the skin around my nails before finally folding into my thoughts. Marching through the living room to the kitchen phone, I called the man himself.

ring........ring.........ring............ring

Why the fuck did it seem like the rings were taking longer?

"Hello...?" A gruff and groggy voice answered. For a moment, I thought it was Eddie's uncle, then I remembered Eddie always answered the phone.

"Eddie?" I wanted to make sure before I started on my shit.

"Sweetheart? Why are you calling me so late? What time is it? Are you okay?" Eddie started to get quicker and sounded to be waking up more after realizing it was late for even me to call.

"I'm sorry, I know you were probably sleeping..." Why did I call him? Was it really so bad of a night that I couldn't just wait till morning? Pretend I was the last to sleep and the first to wake up like always?

"Hey." He sounded so grounding, so calming. I stopped all thoughts, and once Eddie was sure I wasn't going to continue spiraling, he continued.

"You can always call me at any time. I need you to tell me if you are okay, though." Sleep swirled in his voice, hypnotizing my heart to beat faster and harder for him, not for the anxiety anymore.

"I just can't sleep." I can't tell him why, I can never tell him why for so many reasons. I don't want him to be in this life or death whirlpool everyone else is already sinking in. I couldn't bare the thought of dragging him in just to possibly save myself from drowning alone.

"Nightmares? Racing thoughts? What's going on in that head of yours?" He hummed out soothingly. I loved how he knew exactly how to talk to me. I hated the reasoning why was because he has also been there before.

"A bit of both I guess." Why was it that I called him again? Now what? Just sit in silence on the phone? I don't think anyone in their right mind would do that all night wide awake.

"What can I do?" Before I could even think about it, I answered with, "Can you come over and stay the night? I know you have your friends over and-"

"Of course I can. I am on my way in 5 minutes." Huh?

"What about-"

"They can stay here by themselves or go home. Either way, they will be just fine, Sweetheart."

"Thank you, see you soon Eds."

"Anytime Stranger." He hung up and I stood there, holding the phone against my lips as the other hand wrapped around myself. I tapped the phone a couple times before I glanced at the clock that glaringly read 3:47 AM. Sighing, I realized I owed him for this.

After a few minutes of pacing at the door, I heard the familiar sound of Eddie's van humming in the distance. I opened the door and shuffled outside, wrapping my zip up hoodie tighter. Eddie pulled next to Steve's car and killed the engine, hurriedly getting out of the van before stopping in his tracks seeing me. I wave stiffly, feeling guilt for waking him up and making him drive here despite never wanting to drag him into problems that aren't his to fix.

Despite all of that, he took a few long strides and held my face in his hands.

"You don't look okay. When was the last time you slept? Don't lie to me either." He pointed a finger at me after his lecture, waiting for my answer. As he waited, I noticed his other hand let go of my face and was pulling his leather jacket off and around me.

"I don't know, maybe a day or two? It's hard to tell some days." I shrugged, feeling caught in the secret of never sleeping all because I struggle to ever lie to Eddie.

"That won't do, let's get inside and get you warmed up." Wrapping his hand around my shoulder, I noticed he didn't have his rings on and his hair was frizzy. He really did wake up and leave the house, maybe just stuck on a different shirt or something. Everything else screamed he just woke up. Guilt gnawed inside me.

He opened the door and shut it behind me. I snuck around the sleeping bodies towards the other couch not facing the TV. I sat down and sighed as Eddie grabbed one free blanket.

"I am going to stay awake until I know you are asleep." He stated simply.

"You? The king of falling asleep anywhere? You fell asleep upside down on your bed before when I left you alone for maybe two minutes." I raised an eyebrow as he stared back incredulously.

"Okay, and?" He sassed back, stance mirroring Steves iconic mom look. I stifled a laugh, which seemed to ruffle him more.

"Listen here smart ass, I will prove you wrong." I almost laughed out loud before remembering the sleeping bodies just a few feet from us.

"Okay, okay, just sit down and be quiet. Other people are trying to sleep too yah know?" I tossed a pillow at him, smacking him square in his face. His small oof made me smile.

"You little-" He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me with a look in his eyes that made heat spread across my body.

"Move over more." Was all he muttered back, flopping onto the couch and stretching his arm across the back, patting his leg closest to me. I stared at him, realizing he wanted me to lay my head down. Against my better judgment, I complied. His fingers instantly raveling into my hair, gently brushing through.

"Thank you, Eddie." I hummed out as I closed my eyes in pure bliss. He was my comfort I was missing. I never noticed how I only ever seem to willingly sleep when he is with me. I just always thought those were my crash and burn days.

"Of course, Sweetheart." His voice was so soft, so welcoming, and so comforting. I took a few deep breaths, relaxation slowly flooding me.

"Everything is going to be okay. I'm here now."

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As always, the characters belong to their creators and the story belongs to me. Thank you for reading, and I hoped you enjoyed! Thank you for all the love and support <3! I hope you all have a great day! Deuces!

*Another one I gotta fix the layout of haha*