#i love how much she’s annoyed by him at first

[innerfare]

You’re Jealous

 Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

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Luffy: He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 

Zoro: He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 

Sanji: Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

Ace: He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 

Sabo: Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  

Law: Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 

Kid: He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 

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[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt 5)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

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

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

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

“Sweetheart.” 

The sunlight wasn’t getting any closer. 

But whatever was behind me was. 

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

“You’re safe, come on baby, wake up.” 

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

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

“Come on, you gotta wake up for me.” 

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

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

It was blood. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can smell how scared you are.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was absolutely maddening. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It only took four more strokes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw you’re being so mean!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too sweetheart, me too.”

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 18

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you finally finish your assignment and talk about the upcoming holiday break.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: believe me when i say i was not planning for this chapter to go the way it did. but it’s fine it was hot<3 i also kept the holiday reader celebrates ambiguous to keep it inclusive, so hopefully i can keep it going being nonspecific lol, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

While Evan put up a fight at first about accepting your help, he quickly got over it. You kept trying to reassure him that you want to help, that you want him to heal as well as possible, even if you have to do things for him. He didn’t listen at first; he didn’t want to be a burden; he didn’t want you to be annoyed with him or feel like you had to help him. But still, you continued to care for him with a smile on your face, and soon enough, he started to love how much you were doting on him. It made him feel important, loved.

It’s almost exhausting when he’s finally used to you doing things for him, and you’d be a little upset if he wasn’t so cute with his little pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. 

“Princess, can you get me some more water?”

“Princess, can you get me a sweater?”

“Princes, can you…?”

You’re almost certain he’s exaggerating his injuries by now, as his concussion is gone and his ankle has been healing for a couple of weeks, but how can you say no when he asks you to stay with him for a little bit longer? You love being with him, and you love taking care of him, so it makes sense to spend most nights at his place rather than going back to your apartment.

You’re at his house again, both of you sitting on his bed as you work on the final touches of your assignment. You’re happy to finally be done with it, although you have this weird feeling in your chest that once your assignment is handed in, you won’t have any reason to see Evan. You know your worries are unnecessary; you’re dating, and he seems very content in keeping you around all the time, but you feel that minuscule voice in your head telling you what you know isn’t true. 

You look out his bedroom window, smiling as you see the soft blanket of snow covering his front yard, the sunset shining brightly off of it and making you excited for the quickly approaching winter break. It’s already December, and you can’t believe how quickly the semester has passed. A couple weeks off and finally able to spend some time with your family? You couldn’t imagine anything better. Especially for the holidays.

“What are you doing for winter break?” you ask as Evan types away on his computer. He looks up at you after a moment, his fingers stilling on his keyboard. His expression almost looks upset, but he quickly covers it with a small smile.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably stay here; hang out with some of the guys on the team that aren’t going home either.” he tells you, his voice oddly monotone. You know he’s not especially close to his parents, but you didn’t know it was bad enough for him to not go home during winter break. He’s definitely holding his emotions back right now, and it makes your heart clench to think about him alone during the holidays, with no loving family to go home to.

“Your parents don’t want you to go home?” you ask, but you already know the answer. He shrugs, giving you a soft “I don’t think they care” as he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. Sadness fills your eyes, and you let out a quiet exhale. How can his parents not want to see him?

“What about your sister? I’m sure she wants to see you.” you try to reassure him, but you can see that your words cause sadness to fill his eyes as he shakes his head. You reach over and grab one of his hands, which pulls his gaze from his lap to your face. 

“You can’t be alone for the holidays.” you whisper. You can feel the question on the tip of your tongue, and while you know it may be a little weird to ask, it feels like the words are fighting their way up your throat.

“I’ll be alright, princess. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” he tells you with a shrug, trying to mask his sadness with a reassuring smile. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, frowning. You feel the words slip from your mouth before you can stop him; why is he the one reassuring you right now? You should be the one telling him that he shouldn’t have to be used to that. That he deserves to feel loved all the time, but especially around the holidays.

“Why don’t you come home with me for the break?” His eyes widen at your words, and for a moment, so do yours. You know it’s probably too early for that kind of thing; he’d be meeting your entire family, for God’s sake, but you can’t imagine him sitting here alone while everyone else is with their families.

“You want me at your parents’ house for the holidays?” he asks in disbelief, although he can feel his heart pounding at the thought. He absolutely loves the idea of meeting your parents, and spending a few weeks in your hometown; learning even more about you.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you. I know my mom does.” you tell him a bit sheepishly. You’ve told your mom about him already, although you’re not as close to her as you once were, you still talk to her fairly regularly.

“Your dad doesn’t?” he asks you curiously, using the hand holding yours to pull you towards him. You get up onto your knees and crawl across the bed, then straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

“I haven’t told him. Not sure how he’d react.” you say with a shrug, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. He hums softly, and although he’s a little nervous about your answer, he also feels an overwhelming urge to prove to your father that he’s good for you.

“Yeah? Tell me about him, so I know what to expect.” You lean back, looking at him with an unsure smile, disbelief in your eyes. 

“You’ll come?” you ask, your smile widening when he nods. You laugh softly and lean in to give him a chaste kiss, but he quickly deepens it, his hand moving to your jaw and tilting your head slightly. You smile into the kiss, and let him continue to kiss you for a moment, one of your hands making its way into his hair while his other hand moves up and down your thigh.

“So, tell me about your parents.” he speaks after he pulls away, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye. He loves the way you look sitting on his lap, lips puffy and eyes in a slight daze. He thinks it’s adorable that even after the countless times he’s kissed you, you still always pull back with wide eyes and a soft smile, almost like you’re surprised he’s kissing you.

“Well, my mom will love you, so you don’t have to worry about her much. I think she’ll just be happy I’ve finally brought someone home. My dad’s sort of protective, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s a firefighter, and he’s an extrovert, so all you have to do is ask him about his job, and the heat will be off of you for hours.” you explain to him, laughing softly as you explain your dad’s tendency to talk about his job. He’s always wanted to be a firefighter, and he loves the job, so it’s become a joke between you and your mom about how quickly he can change the subject to work during conversations with anyone that will listen. 

Evan hums softly, nodding as he listens to you. He laughs along with you, feeling his nerves settle slightly as you tell him how to get on your dad’s good side. He can’t believe he’s agreed to this so quickly; a few months ago, he would never have pictured himself being introduced to a girl’s parents. But now, with you, he feels both excited and like his heart is about to stop from his nerves.

“You think he’ll like me?” he asks a bit nervously. You smile, shrugging as you think about it. You’ve never introduced a guy to your father, so you’re really not sure how he’ll react. While you want to reassure Evan, you don’t want to give him a false sense of hope. 

“I like you. I think he’ll see that. He might just have to warm up to you.” you tell him after a moment of silence. He nods again at your words, licking his lips as he averts his gaze from yours, beginning to think about it maybe a little too much. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. He’ll probably just want to make sure you’re a good guy. It’s not like he’ll find out you’re, like, a murderer or something.” you tease in a low voice, giving him a cheeky smile. You want to calm his nerves; you can see the wheels turning in his head. He chuckles as his eyes refocus on you, and he pulls you in by the back of your neck, lips level with your ear.

“Maybe not, but I definitely wouldn’t want him to find out what I’ve done with you, how I think of you most of the time.” he rasps, and you feel your cheeks grow hot. 

“Yeah? What are you thinking about right now?” you get out, your voice just above a whisper. Although your words are teasing, your stomach is filled with butterflies. Even after months of being with him, there’s always a split second that you forget you’re not still the shy, inexperienced person you were before.

“I’m thinking about taking you in your childhood bedroom. Your parents in the other room. Having to put my hand over your mouth to keep your quiet.” he says, nipping at your neck between sentences. You bite your lip, feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re crazy if you think my dad’s gonna let us share a room.” you tease softly, tilting your head back as he continues to kiss your neck. He chuckles against your skin, which causes you to shiver as his hot breath hits your neck.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” he whispers in your ear, then continues his trail of kisses down your neck. You roll your eyes, giggling softly, but it’s cut short when you feel Evan’s hand dip below the waistband of both your leggings and your panties, and move straight to your core.

“You’re so wet already. You like that idea? Having to keep quiet for me?” he says in a cocky tone, looking up at you. You bite your lip as your hips buck against his hand instinctively, trying to gain more friction as his fingers ghost against your clit.

He chuckles as he feels your hips move, but doesn’t tease any further. He pushes a finger into your dripping cunt, pumps it into you a few times, then adds another. You mewl softly, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, which he happily returns. His thumb finds your clit after a moment, and he groans as he feels you clench around his fingers with a soft moan.

“You’re so good for me, princess. Always so good for me.” he says against your lips, then curls his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You tilt your head back with a whine, rolling your hips as you feel the familiar feeling growing in your belly.

He increases his movements when he sees your face contorting in pleasure, knowing you’re approaching your high, but you stop him before you can get there. You pull his hand away with quick, albeit reluctant, movements.

“Need to feel you.” you whisper in an almost pleading tone, and that’s all it takes.

He grabs your hips and flips you over onto the bed, then moves to kneel in front of you. He reaches for your leggings and makes quick work of pulling them and your panties down your legs, you lifting your hips off the bed to help him out. He makes you sit up once your bottoms are discarded, and pulls your knit sweater over your head, not even bothering to take your bra off before his hands are pulling on his shirt. Once he’s taken his clothes off, he’s on top of you, using one arm to hold himself up, and the other pumping his cock a few times before moving the tip over your slick folds.

“Please.” you beg as you look up at his face, pupils blown and lips turned in an almost-pout. He licks his lips as his eyes move up from your cunt to your eyes, smirking. He doesn’t waste any more time, and he sinks into you with a breathy groan. His head falls to the crook of your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, feeling you stretching around him so perfectly. 

“Oh my god.” you whine as your hands find his shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin as he starts to move, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size. He fits so nicely inside of you, but you’d be lying if you said there’s not a second when he first pushes into your dripping cunt where you think that you’re too full, that you won’t get used to the feeling of all of him.

“That’s it, princess. Let me hear you.” he drawls. He picks up the pace as he begins to kiss down your neck, making sure he leaves light spots around your collar bones and tits. He loves marking you, but the last time he marked your neck, you got mad that you weren’t able to cover it up easily, so now he leaves them in places for his eyes only. 

You let out a shuttered cry when his fingers find your clit again, and your nails dig into his back more harshly, which makes him groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. He loves to be marked by you too, loves having reminders of you on his skin. He leans back to look into your eyes again, and he almost smirks when he sees you struggling to keep your eyes open, your body moving with each thrust. He looks down at your soft tummy and chest and he moans again. He loves seeing your tummy move as he fucks you; almost as much as he likes to fill your belly with his seed.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t last long, baby.” he teases, then meets your lips in a deep kiss. His hips move in rough thrusts as his fingers circle your clit, and you know that you’re not going to last long either.

“Feels so good.” you rasp against his lips, and he smirks as he pulls back.

“Yeah? You like that, princess?” he asks in a cocky tone, feeling his high quickly approaching as he looks down at your fucked out expression. All you can do is nod as you feel the pit in your tummy growing, your words coming out in incoherent babbling.

With a few more thrusts, Evan is right on the edge, but as he’s about to pull out, you wrap your legs around his waist. He raises a brow as you look up at him, soft pleas escaping your lips.

“Come inside me. Evan, please.” you get out, keeping your legs firmly locked around him. He groans, trying not to cum right then and there. The way you say his name makes his head spin, and soon enough, he’s nodding, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor.

“You want me to fill you up? Huh, princess?” he asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and you know he’s almost there.

“Please. Fill me up.” you plead, your back arching off the bed as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.” he grunts in your ear, and after a few more thrusts, you feel his hot cum hitting your insides. This, paired with his fingers ghosting over your clit causes you to fall over to the edge with a high pitched squeal, clenching around him as your vision goes blank. You squeeze your eyes shut as your body goes stiff, your hands still firmly on his shoulders.

“There you go, princess. God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers against your skin. He slows his hips to a stop, staying inside of you for a minute or two as you both catch your breath. He moves his head down to the valley of your breasts, pressing soft kisses all over the skin not covered by your bra as he stays lying on top of you, and you hum happily.

After a few minutes, he finally pulls out, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping down your soft skin and onto his sheets. He grabs a towel from his closet and cleans you off carefully, pressing kisses on your plush belly as his hands moves, and once he’s done, he crawls back into bed beside you and pulls you in to lay your head on his chest.

“We can’t do this at my parents’ house.” you tease as you lay your cheek against his chest, and you smile when you feel the rumble of his laugh ripple through his chest under you.

“No? Don’t think you can keep quiet?” he replies in a similar tone, squeezing your shoulder as he holds you tightly against him. 

“I’m more worried about you.” you tell him in a serious tone. He can hear the smile in your voice, but he still rolls his eyes as he scoffs.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” he says in a quiet tone, voice trailing off as he looks up at the ceiling. 

If you’re really serious about not doing anything for two weeks, he thinks he’ll go crazy. He’s been able to have you pretty much anytime he wants for the past few months, and imagining you at your house, forbidden fruit dangling in front of him with your father around, he knows it’s going to be torture for him.

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[pyeonghongrie]

Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better!

Summary: You and your academic rival do what academic rivals do, trying to one-up each other in grades. But the thing is, both of you are teachers.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong X Reader

Genre: humor

AUs/Trope info: Reverse Academic Rivals,

Word Count: 500+

Warnings: none??????

Rating: 16+

A/N: for @cultofdionysusnet's reverse trope event! Thank you to @kwanisms for helping with this!!!

It’s a new school year, which means, it's a new opportunity to crush your rival, Kim Hongjoong, in a battle of wits. 

You see, that would’ve been much more appropriate if both of you weren’t high school teachers. And if you both weren’t vicariously continuing this feud through which class could get a higher grade point average.

"My God, Hongjoong! You’re delusional if you think your class is going to get the higher GPA this quarter! It’s impossible,” you yell at him from across the faculty parking lot, your anger reaching a boiling point after he provoked you with yet another bet for this school year. “You suck at teaching and everyone knows it!”

“Oh, get over yourself,” he yells back, slamming the door of his car shut. “You’re just salty that my students love my class while they drone over your miserable little classroom that feels more like a prison cell,” he continues, power-walking in your direction. “You won’t even let them bring snacks, you Karen!”

“Oh, please!” you retort, rolling your eyes. “The only reason they like you is because you let them slack off! And Besides,” you continue, narrowing your eyes as he draws closer. “My classroom has these fuck ass linoleum floors that basically adheres food crumbs to it. I don’t want my room to have rats, especially if they look like you.”

He gasps, dramatically so, one hand over his gaped mouth and the other over his chest. “This has to constitute a hate crime, this is rodent discrimination. Everyone knows I’m a squirrel.”

You roll your eyes, “Save the ‘woe is me’ cries for someone who cares, Kim. I’ll see you after this quarter when my class destroys yours!”

Hongjoong’s class was, in fact, not destroyed by yours.

The final results came in and in fact, both your classes had the same GPA down to the decimal point.

Of course, from that confrontation, the both of you stormed over to the guidance counselor, demanding a recount, or at least a reason for this “impossible” tie.

“This is ridiculous!” You said, slapping the flimsy piece of paper over her desk, “There is no way that this guy’s class got the same GPA as mine!”

Hongjoong scoffs, “You act like we weren’t in the same education classes in college. You’re no better off than I am.”

“Well,” The counselor started, “Both of you were being really annoying about this feud, it was funny at first, but both of you need to get over this. You’re adults, not only that, you’re responsible for the education of the future professionals of this country. I’d expect both of you to prioritize the students’ education over this silly competition.”

The counselor clears her throat, “Enough,” she said as she stood up from her chair, “There is no mistake in the transcripts. Both of your classes scored the exact same, down to the decimal.”

Both of you look at each other. “But, how is that possible?” Hongjoong asked, just as confused as you were.

Both of you lower your head in shame.

“Now, this feud ends today. No more trying to live your rivalry through these kids.” She sits down again, waving both of you off.

You stand in front of the door to the driver’s side of your car, as did Hongjoong. With a silent agreement to end this rivalry, and call for peace.

Which only lasted until the next school year, much to the chagrin of everyone else.

[cemeteryvalentine]

astro observations part 4 !!! ^____^

(specifically based off my family :3 pleaseee don't get offended at anything that doesn't resonate)

🗝️: one thing about a sag placement, they are gonna hang up FIRST !!! i swear, if anyone misses flip phones, it's a sag placement/dominant. i just know they miss snapping that phone shut in a petty manner LOL. my mom is a sag moon AND rising, and she'd call me and demand me to do something in such a bitchy tone and then hang up on me like girl who tf do u think u areee 😭😭😭😭 LMFAO. but honestly good for her, i love being petty like her.

like i swear i take after my mom because everytime she does that annoying hang up before i can respond thing, i call her again just to say a snarky remark, and hang up on her back!

🐇: i swear, virgo placements have no problem being the grossest people alive, but suddenly it's a problem when someone else does it :/// it's really annoying. my brother has a pigsty of a bedroom, doesn't wash his hand when he pisses unless i make him, and leaves his trash everywhere, but constantly gets on my sister for the same things 😭. like the calls coming from inside the house !!! i think basically, (some) virgos are like picky(?) with what areas they'd want clean. like they're only really comfortable with THEIR mess and no one else's.

🗝️: i love how pisces mercury communicate because it's like what the hel are u awn about 😭 in the NICEST way though :3 they're so kewl and interesting to talk to, plus they're so nice and understanding. maybe because they're water mercuries after all. speaking of, my favorite artist ever kurt cobain was a pisces mercury and it SHOWSSS. a lot of nirvana lyrics feel artistic and metaphoric, or just realllyyyy silly. liiike "angel left wing, right wing, broken wing. lack of iron and or sleeping" from milk it, one of my nirvana faves. and "i vomit C*M and DIARRHEA". like girl whatever that means !!!! (song, mexican seafood)

🐇: mars influence on the asc makes for prominent features. especially eyebrows. my brother has an aries rising and he has such a bad case of RBF. i swear he never looks happy 😭 his virgo sun and cap moon definitely don't help at all either. then im a mars rising and i have big eyebrows like my brother. like we're the only ones with big eyebrows, while our parents brows look invisible LOL. also i'm a virgo rising !! and ppl are always saying i look mad which honestly pisses me off :P so in conclusion, mars influence + virgo placements = major rbf

🗝️: i HATE to add on to the cancer hate train since i'm one myself and i loveee being one + we get soo much hate, but i feel a (unevolvled) cancer makes for the worst pick me girl ever !!!! this def doesn't apply to all cancers, but the few cancer women i know can be so mean to other women so unprovoked. especially my mom, it gives me the ick when she calls random women b*tches or makes fun of them to me for their features or success or soemthing. i used to be a pick me too up until i was like 13 (im soooo happy i grew out of that mess QUICK!). i would constantly strive for male attention, it was embarrassing 😭. ik another girl who values her shitty boyfriend over her (girl) friends and i haaate it. like ive only known a few cancer women, but a lot of them are like the meanest pick me bitch ever, or such a sweeet, caring soul :). i feel like being a pick me stems from cancers being feminine AND traditional. yk? i pray i make sense, but yk how it's traditional for girls to be perfect for her man, and value him no matter the circumstance ?? and cancer/moon being **traditional** ? yeahhh 😭

anywayzzz that's all :3 tyyy for reading !! i had sm making a new observations, considering it's been a year since my last LMFAOO. and again, if it doesn't apply, let it fly. ty bye ^__^

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again, pt.3

logan x reader

summary: In his universe, Logan and you were in love. Then you died. Now he’s in a different timeline and you are very much alive.

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words. THIS PART IS UNEDITED SORRY

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The air smelled like cigarettes and regrets, the perfect kind of bar for Logan Howlett. He walked in, tugging at his dark jean jacket. The place was dark sans a few overhead lights here and there, but he spotted you instantly at the bar. With your back to him, he watched as you slapped the counter several times. At first he thought you were made but he noticed the way the bartender was laughing. He moved closer to see what was going on and walked into the tail end of a story. “...and then Wade shit his pants! It was amazing.”

“I did not!”

Logan hadn’t noticed Wade next to you but the merc grew louder in trying to defend himself. Slightly amused, Logan ordered a beer and watched the pair of you go back and forth until you finally noticed him. You smiled and a hand fell on his shoulder as you stood up from the stool. He recognized how wasted you actually were and without thinking, caught you by the waist. “So you’ve been here for a while, I take.”

“Only like thirty minutes,” you mused, plopping back down onto the stool. Logan smirked and chugged down the beer placed in front of him. He was a certified drinker and the beer was basically water for the man. It felt good. He hadn’t drank much since coming to this new world - he was trying to be better but tonight, as he watched you mercilessly mocked Wade he felt like indulging. 

One night, would it be so bad?

“Logan, let’s take some shots.” You pulled him down next to you and he adjusted himself onto his seat, ignoring the way your hand on him made him feel. He needed more to drink if he was going to survive the night, so he ordered a round for the three of you. Then another and another…

“...is he always like that?”

You gazed up from the shot glass in your hand and followed the direction Logan was facing. Wade was caressing the pool stick in his hand as a failed attempt to distract the poor fella who agreed to a round. Laughing, you said yes and shrugged. “Wade is anything but boring. I like that about him.”

“How did you two get mixed up together?”

Logan felt more relaxed than when he first arrived two hours ago, his jacket was hanging off his chair and the sleeves to his dark henley were pulled up to his forearms. You tried not to stare too hard but you were only a woman. He was gorgeous and rough around the edges, defeat in his eyes but there was something more to the man next to you. 

“A friend introduced us, well, more like a frenemy of Wade’s. We’ve worked off and on for the last few years. He’s honestly, don’t tell him this, not that bad. Kind of annoying…”

Logan laughed, which surprised him more than you. His smile faded when the expression on your face turned into her. He felt ashamed, bashful, and he quickly ordered two more rounds. Sensing a shift, you changed the subject and asked if he had talked to Laura lately.

“She called the other day. Not sure I can give her what she wants…”

“Laura just needs support. People she can count on, friends,” you assured him. The rounds of tequila were brought over and Logan slid two shot glasses to you. You took one and lifted it up to him. “To Laura.”

Logan looked at you, eyes softened as his old heart beated faster than he cared for. Your hair was out of your face, eyes a bit glazed from the alcohol but there was something so different about you. Something the version of you he had loved didn’t have - happiness. You were just happy and satisfied with your life, and he couldn’t fathom it. Logan couldn’t understand how you could be so different from, well, you. There had been something so sad about the woman he loved, so melancholy. Always living for others but you, you sat next to him happy as a clam to be in some shitty little bar. With Wade accosting other customers, sitting next to a man you hardly knew but was so kind to. Logan felt sick to his stomach, guilty as hell because he wouldn't admit it. Too scared to admit that he was enjoying this version of you. Lighthearted and fun. 

You piece of shit, after all she had done for everyone. This is how you repay her? By drooling over another version of her? She died in your arms, you prick!

“Logan.”

Your voice was quietly sweet and he realized he had dazed off, immediately he pushed away all thoughts and chuckled. “To Laura.”

You grinned and clicked your glass against his before downing it. Then you toasted to Wade and Logan begrudgingly joined in for the second shot. Too much alcohol had circulated in your body now, your head felt lightheaded and suddenly, you were braver than you had ever been. Recognizing the song playing over the speakers, you casually suggested Logan take you out to dance. Logan snorted at such a suggestion, thinking you were messing with him but you just stared at him.

“You can’t be fucking serious!”

“Don’t cuss at me, Logan.”

Your tone felt very final but the smile on your face was light and in that moment, Logan couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He stood up from his stool, a cold stone expression on his face as he took your hand and cursed under his breath as he pulled you to the small dancing area across the room. He ignored the staring coming from Wade, who was still playing pool. Holding back a laugh, you allowed Logan to pull you to him, one arm around your waist, while the other held your hand. His body felt strong against yours yet his fingers were gentle, tender as they held you.  Your hand slipped up his back and Logan stilled for a single moment when your head rested against his shoulder before he relaxed. He led the dance, slow methodical steps but maybe it was the drinking that had you feeling dizzy and far too relaxed. Neither of you said a single word the entire song, Logan just held you in his arms and hated that he didn’t hate it. He could have gone all night on the dance floor with you against him, his hands on you. He didn’t mind it one bit and when the song ended, he felt disappointed in so many ways.

“Thanks for the dance, Logan,” you mused, patting him on the chest. His hands fell from your body and he couldn’t manage a smile. His eyes were glued to you as you mentioned you needed to use the restroom.His fingers slowly, painfully released you from his grip. You smiled at him and walked toward the bathrooms. Logan stood there as the next song played, something more upbeat and he could feel Wade’s annoying stare but he couldn’t take his eyes off where you stood. Back home, he never danced with you. You weren’t the dancing type, you had been far too busy to enjoy those sorts of things. This had been a first for him and tried so hard to picture the woman he loved in his arms but all he could see was you. 

“You’re so fucked.”

Logan snapped out of his thoughts and glared at Wade, who stood at his side. “Got the hots for the ghost of your girlfriend, huh?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Wade threw an arm around Logan’s shoulder and noted he knew more than he led on. “That cute little snapshot you have in your wallet? I gotta say, you have a type.”

“Don’t touch my shit again,” Logan warned him. He forgot about the photo in his wallet. Wade smirked and nodded to where you were coming from the bathrooms. 

“Your secret is safe with me…for now, asshole. Just letting you know, you break her heart and I break your small little dick, got it?”

Logan ignored the man and pushed him away as you walked up with a curious glance. Wade flipped him off and wandered back to the pool table. You asked what that was about and Logan said nothing. “Another round?”

“Hell no,” you laughed, bouncing on the heels of your feet. “I am hungry though…I know a really good burger place…”

Perfection. That’s what you were, that’s what this all felt like for Logan and he knew then, Wade was completely right - he was so fucked. Logan agreed, the two of you walked back to the counter for your things. He put on his jean jacket and you grabbed your bag, both of you agreeing to sneak out before Wade could follow. The night was cold but Logan felt nothing but a surge of warmth fall over his body as you walked alongside him. Talkative and a bit clumsy, so much so, he resigned his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t seem to mind and he didn’t either.

So the two of you walked on, disappearing into the night crowd of the city - Logan’s hand, warm on your back. 

...............

leave comment for a tag. (I tagged those from the OG post who seemed interested in seeing a second part)

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@morishitoshi

@between-the-pages-ofa-book

[someonexsomeone]

Sweetness

Title: Sweetness

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans

Summary: The Marauders LOVED to watch you with Remus.

Authors Note: this was actually born from another fic i was writing that i hated scrapped and kept one sentence from lmao

“What are you idiots up to now?” 

There was very little that could rattle Lily Evans. Her sister, Severus Snape, and, as reluctant as she wanted to admit it, James Potter, were just a few people, not to mention the very Gryffindor nature she adopted over the years making her susceptible to reckless actions, but she was getting the hang of it, honest! It was just that stupid Potter that set her on edge without having to do anything, and then he’d bat his pretty eyelashes at her and--

Ugh. Thinking about him made her feel nauseous.

She’d done her best to avoid Potter as much as possible, not that Dumbledore made it any easier assigning them as Head Girl and Boy (despite her many protests), but he seemed adamant on sticking by her side. Or, as Marlene suggested, not that Lily believed it anyway, that Potter was simply going about his day to day life and they just happened to share a few classes together and of course he would sit near her in the Great Hall since it was practically commonplace to sit near your yearmates, and why was she paying so close attention to him anyway?

“Because he’s so annoying it's impossible to ignore. Like a moldy cheese, his stink of annoyance just fills a room.”

“You know, Lily,” Marlene teased, drawing out every word. “Some people think smelly cheese is irresistible.”

She stormed away before she could think that her red face was attributed to anything but anger.

So, imagine her surprise when, the very person she was trying to avoid, was acting more a fool than usual, his butt hanging out of a classroom door with none of the decorum required of a Head Boy. Though, she mused, why did she expect anything different from him, even if he’d been acting more mature this term.

His goofy shocked face caused her heart to flutter, another symptom of her annoyance.

“Lily!” Potter whisper-shouted, somehow being incapable of speaking quietly even when it was so obvious he was trying. Sirius Black, used to his antics, knocked a knobby elbow into his side from his position on the floor, playful glare on his face as he shushed his better half.

“Quiet!” Black hissed, voice just as loud. Potter didn’t seem to notice, sending him a sheeping smile.

“Sorry!” he said, though his voice was only lower in pitch, not volume. Lily rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying with Marlene?”

“Stalking me now, Potter?” She was shocked, however, when Potter flushed red instead of his flirty remark.

“I-I would never! You know that, don’t you?” And then, as if he realized how pathetic he sounded, his mouth twitched into a grimace. “Unless, you--…you want me to?”

“Oh Merlin,” Black sighed, shaking his head, voice exasperated. “Marlene told us in case Dorcas finished her meeting with Professor Gropmorph early.”

This time, it was Lily who flushed in embarrassment. Thankfully, Remus took the perfect moment to open the door to the classroom, unamusement clear, even as Potter and Black toppled like dominoes face first onto Remus’s shoes.

“What are you idiots doing now?” Lily felt her chest swell in kinship, even as Remus’s face dropped in shock at spotting her standing there. “Lily?”

“I promise,” she said quickly, “I have nothing to do with this!”

“What…what are you doing here? What are any of you doing here?”

“Well, you see--!” Black scrambled to his feet, knocking James over in his attempt to get up faster. “I was just--...we were just--...”

“Rounds!” James shouted, gracelessly, despite his usual athleticism, using the door frame to pull himself up. Once he was on his feet, he swung an arm around Lily. When she tried to sidestep away from him, he kept his arm firm, and she pretended to hate it. “We were just doing rounds, right, Evans?”

It was a miracle these marauders didn’t get into more trouble if this is what they were like when they were lying. James was staring down at her with his big brown eyes, twinkling with hope. Black was making a subtle motion to play along, though it was in clear view of Remus, who eyed them suspiciously.

Why me?, she thought, miserably.

“...Yeah,” she finally said, though the moment had stretched on for far too long to be convincing. Black face palmed.

“Rounds? But it’s not even dinner yet?”

James cursed under his breath. Lily rolled her eyes. How could he forget his best friend was a prefect?

“It’s those new Head rounds, right?” Black provided. James slumped in relief, immediately nodding along.

“Yep! Yeah, new rounds for Head Girl and Boy. Wouldn’t have taken the job if I knew there was so much to do!” James laughed too loud, then abruptly stopped, whipping his head down to look at Lily. “Not that I’m not responsible! I agreed, so I’ll follow through. Promise!”

“...okay,” Remus agreed, drawing out the sound to fill the sudden awkward silence. He eyes Black, almost looking like he was going to ask what he was doing there, then decided better and kept the question to himself. Lily didn’t blame him. “Well, have fun…?”

“Yes, yes! You as well, whatever mysterious thing you’re doing in there!” Black babbled, practically pushing Remus back into the room, throwing a glare over his shoulder. 

Just before the door shut, Lily swore she saw a familiar silhouette.

With the door now closed, and Black assured that Remus was far enough away, he whipped around, voice exasperated as he said, “Way to go, Prongs.”

“What?” Lily shrugged off Potter’s arm, and he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I panicked.”

“I could tell.” She made a show of whipping off her shoulder, but made no move to walk away. “What were you even doing?”

Potter opened his mouth to respond, but Black launched himself, covering his mouth with both hands. Potter's eyes widened, grabbing Black’s arms to push him away.

“Why are you curious? We’re not breaking any rules,” Black said suspiciously, voice trembling as he held his hands still. Lily eyed the two, Potter obviously not putting all his strength into the fight, then looked at the door.

“Remus is allowed to be in there,” she said instead of responding. She turned to Black, crossing her arms and standing her ground. “You, however, are being incredibly rude by spying on him.”

“He’s our friend,” Black argued, as if that justified his actions.

“Friends don’t spy on each other.”

“Friends don’t keep secret lovers.”

Immediately, the two looked at each other in equal shock, eyes widening in unison. Potter used the distraction to finally free his mouth, playfully spitting on the floor.

“Ugh, wash your hands, Pads.”

Lily blinked owlishly at Black, who looked horrified at what he revealed.

“Remus is dating--”

“We don’t know for sure,” James said before she could continue, warily glancing at the closed door. Deciding it would be best to move away, he nodded his head at Black, then gestured Lily down the hall, an illusion of privacy she found she appreciated. Once they were a good ways down, where the door all but disappeared into the lopsided cobbled wall, James continued, “It’s just a hunch we’ve had.”

“A hunch?” 

“Our Moony is very protective of his pack--” Potter coughed pointedly at Black, who just rolled his eyes, “--of friends.”

“What he means,” James cut in, “is that Moony is very selective of who he gets close to. Childhood trauma and all that. He just hasn’t gotten around to introducing us yet.”

Lily thought they were being very nonchalant for discussing childhood trauma, but she shrugged it off, reminding herself these were the boys who thought dungbombs were funny because they smelled like farts.

“And you were…what, trying to find a good time to introduce yourselves?” Potter turned sheepish while Black laughed.

“Not…not exactly.”

“Not that you would know, dear Evans, but our Moony is quite the romantic.”

“Remus? Remus Lupin?” Lily conjured the shy Remus she knew, the one who stuttered the first time they interacted, who she recalled being too quiet to stand up to his friends’ wrongdoings, but helped in every other instance. Remus, who she rarely saw with anyone but his roommates, despite the countless people throwing themselves at his feet for a date.

Black nodded, long hair swinging around his shoulders.

“The most. Would put Calyna Ollapianne to shame.” Although Lily was lost, no doubt one of many pop culture wizards she hadn’t had the time to discover, the way Potter was nodding his head made her inclined to believe it was a good thing. Maybe Mary would know, she wondered to herself, she’s always been into wizarding things.

“And, you see, he’s shy.” To this, Lily nodded. “So, when he does fancy someone, he doesn’t always have the courage to say something.”

“Except!” Black’s mischievous smile made her nervous. “Our dear Moony, who usually runs away tail between his legs when a pretty thing walks by, is currently locked in a room, far from other students or distractions, supposedly tutoring a very pretty thing.”

Lily stopped, her two companions falling in line to look at her, identical smiles on their faces. If she didn’t know Black had been staying with the Potter’s, she might have been weirded out. Instead, she only felt confusion, looking back over her shoulder to the hallway they just abandoned. Black was practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for her response.

“So…”

“Yes?”

“Remus is currently tutoring a fellow classmate and your…disrupting him?” Black sighed dramatically, obviously not what he was expecting to hear from her.

“Come on, Evans. You’re not the littlest bit curious?” He gestured down the hall. “We just let you in on one of our biggest secrets and you can’t even give me a dramatic gasp?”

“One of--?”

“We don’t bother them,” Potter reassured before she could continue, giving her a softer smile, one that relaxed her nerves, as much as she hated to admit it. “We just…want to make sure he’s doing alright. Provide emotional support, or whatever.”

Lily looked, really looked, at James as he stuttered over his words, pointedly avoiding her eyes. Even with his tanned skin, she could see the beginnings of a flush creeping up his neck, painting the tips of his ears rosy. The more she looked, the more he stammered, hands waving wildly, knocking into Black, though neither of them really acknowledged it, too busy studying her or too used to it, she didn’t know. She tucked away the knowledge that her stare made him stumble over her words.

By the time his voice was getting shrill, pathetically forming messy sentences that somehow implicated him and Black in a torrid affair with Remus, a familiar boy rounded the corner.

“Hey! Sorry, am I late?” Pettegrew called, face red and sweaty from no doubt running to meet up with his friends. “I got here as fast as I could.”

Though Remus was by far her favorite Seventh Year boy, Peter Pettigrew was high on her list, thanks to his inability to talk without his friends nearby. Lily hadn’t had many interactions with him, beyond the odd Gryffindor camaraderie at matches and being paired up in class, but there was something about the way he followed along behind his friends, as if he was completely spineless, set her on edge. Pathetic, she hated to admit, was one of the few words she associated with him, and she felt bad enough about it that she often went out of her way to be extra kind to him. Like now, as she gave him a small smile. Pettigrew gave her a toothy one in return when he spotted her.

“Oh, Evans! I didn’t know you liked watching Moony too!”

“Watching…?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, setting Black and Potter on edge. “These two are obsessed with watching Moony get all lovey--”

“You’re such a snitch!” Black yelped before he could continue, locking Pettigrew’s head in the crook of his arm, pushing his fist into the top of his head and rubbing until both of their hair was askew.

“I thought you were there to provide ‘moral support’?” Lily questioned, side eyeing Potter, who started to stutter again. 

It should have been obvious, she mused, that they were lying about being there for his friend. As long as she’s known them, they were always up to something. Niceties hiding deception, innocence hiding trickery. Even if he’d matured in the past term, actually being a good Head Boy despite her reluctance to admit it, old habits die hard.

“We really are! It’s just--...It’s just…” Potter’s stutter, despite usually making her want to roll her eyes, made her feel a little bad. After all, they were a collection of contradictions. Who's to say he couldn't be spying for good and bad reasons? She nearly pinched herself at the thought.

Black, noticing his friend's dilemma, loosened his hold to step closer. Pettigrew used the distraction to pull his head away, surprisingly knocking a leg out to trip Black, sending him tumbling into Potter, and both of them onto the floor.

“They're looney,” Pettegrew rushed out, a mischievous smile on his face. Potter and Black wiggled against each other on the floor, untangling limbs to stop their friend from saying more. “Obsessed with how Moony gets all soft. Did they tell you their favorite thing is when he stands behind to guide wand movement with his whole body? ‘Oh, Prongs, hold me like Moony does!’, ‘Pads, Pads! Do you think they’ll kiss later?’!”

“Snitch!” Potter shouted this time, launching himself across the floor towards Pettigrew’s knees, knocking them down. The two grappled on the floor, Pettigrew laughing while Potter stuttered apologies towards Lily, swearing they weren’t creeps, while Black rose beside her, cackling and cheering them on, an annoying ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ that brought on a migraine she did not need to deal with right now. 

“What are you doing?” All four of them froze, the unexpected stern voice rattling them to their bones. 

Lily was the first to turn, wince pulling her eyebrows to her nose as she watched Remus hurry down the hall, obvious exasperation on his face. She felt even worse as she spotted you trailing behind him. It was obvious they weren’t as quiet as they hoped, pulling you from the tutoring session Remus had gone through the trouble of renting a room for.

“Lily?” You called, evidently more confused to see her than the two locked in a wrestle on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I was--...I was just--…” She felt foolish stumbling over her words like that. It was a public hallway, she had every right to be here just as the others did, and she wasn’t one of the bubbling fools getting their uniforms dirty while they rolled on the floor. Well, she wasn’t one of the fools, but she had to admit she was very much bumbling.

“Why are you two always on the floor?” Remus said, exasperated. He reached down, hauling Pettigrew to his feet, much to Potter’s dismay, who had to rise on his own, Black still too busy eyeing you up. She could have sworn she saw Remus send a sharp glare in Black’s direction, but the harshness completely vanished as he looked at you again. Instead of the mean look he reserved for his friends, his eyebrows relaxed, face going rosy as he apologized. “I’m sorry, we’re meant to be studying.”

“Yeah, studying…” Black murmured under his breath, much too loud to be a private thought. Lily stomped on his foot not too discreetly in retaliation. “Merlin’s beard--!”

She turned to stick her tongue out at him, a very irresponsible thing to do as Head Girl but there was something about these troublemakers that made her feel like a little kid again, but before she could do more, Potter elbowed her harshly in the side. When she whipped toward him, he had an embarrassed flush on his face, evidently not meaning to hit her so hard, but he gestured quickly back to you. Only curiosity had her pulling her eyes away from him.

“It’s alright, Rem.” Lily watched as Remus all but melted at the nickname, easily dodging around the group to return to your side. His hand hovered over your shoulder, then dropped, either too nervous or too aware of the watching eyes to actually touch you. It didn’t stop his fingers, however, from twitching towards you as you gave him a smile. “It’s getting close to dinner anyway.”

“Sorry about them.” 

Black wiggled his eyebrows at Lily as Remus’s voice dropped to something sickly sweet, lower and smoother than she was used to hearing. However, as he flicked his eyes towards his friends, all in unison the boys whipped their heads away, whistling or otherwise pretending to not be paying attention. Lily flushed, then looked to her feet, disbelieving that she was following along. But, she hated to admit, this was much too good to walk away from.

“They're fun. And, we can always pick up where we left off tomorrow. No big deal.” You seemed to have no qualms touching him, your hand reaching out to squeeze one of his in reassurance. Lily lifted her eyes just in time to watch a scattering of goosebumps litter the back of his neck, just above the collar of his messy button up. “Same time?”

“Yeah, same time.” She could almost hear the sadness in his voice, easily picturing puppy ears sprouting from his head at how downtrodden he was at leaving you. You seemed to agree, laughing, and then reaching out to gently pat his face. “Have fun at dinner.”

“You could always join us, you know!” Black called out when you pulled away, surprising everyone by daring to speak out and break the gentle atmosphere that surrounded you two. Remus whipped his head around to glare, though he failed as his eyes widened in shock, motioning to cut it out. Potter hissed under his breath in tandem with Lily’s pinch to his side, but Black simply let a smooth smirk pull across his lips, ignoring everyone’s not so subtle hints. “Remus always talks about how much he misses you--”

In perfect unison, Lily stepped out of the way, latching onto your arm to pull you away, while James slapped one of his big hands across Black’s mouth, giving you a bright smile.

“--your tutoring lessons!” he gasped out, glancing at Remus quickly before returning his smile to you. “Loves--likes what a good student you are! Best one he’s ever had!”

“Potter was just telling me how good Remus was. Tell me about it?” Lily suggested, piggybacking off Potter’s obvious lie, tugging you down the hallway. You looked at her quizzically, obviously wondering why she suddenly was all buddy-buddy with you when you two hadn’t shared so much as a whole conversation before, but you didn’t press.

“Alright?” She felt giddy as a soft smile stretched across your lips, neck craned awkwardly so you could turn to look back at Remus, waving your hand. “Bye, Remus. Thanks again.”

“Yeah! Yes! Anytime!” Lily giggled to herself at the fumble, his hand waving a bit too frantically to be casual, but it seemed to only endear you more, nearly tripping over your feet so you could continue to look at him.

The two of you barely managed to round the corner before Black’s obnoxious voice rang out, “Way to go, Moony! You sly wolf!”

Yes, it seemed those marauding boys had a hobby of watching your interactions with Remus, somehow managing to do it in the creepiest, most intrusive way possible. But, she thought as you laughed, wistfully looking over your shoulder, she saw the appeal. 

And, if she found herself in this hallway again tomorrow, now, that was surely just a coincidence.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l hogwarts masterlist

[starryevermore]

dumb love, i love being stupid ✧ ruhn danaan 

angst city™ library |send in a request (consultrequest faqs first)

pairing: ruhn danaan x fem!reader 

summary: you thought you had found your forever, but he wanted to keep it casual. 

word count: 2,346

warnings?: angst city™ bitch, not proofread

“So how’s it going with that one girl? Been seeing her a lot lately.”

“Eh, we’re just keeping things casual,” Ruhn said, eyeing a pretty faun from across the bar. 

You watched as his friend—Declan, you realize—arched a brow, took a long sip of his drink. Ruhn couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes as Declan said, “That why you keep bringing her around so much?”

“We both know what this is. I like her company, so I invite her out sometimes. That a crime?” Ruhn didn’t wait for an answer. He set his drink down on the bar and began to make his way to the pretty faun. 

“Guess not.” Declan looked away from his friend, eyes somehow finding yours. Despite the distance and lighting, you couldn’t miss the flash of pity. 

Before he could say anything to you, you turned on your heel, ready to leave the White Raven with whatever scraps of your dignity you had intact. You pushed through the throngs of people, ignoring the annoyed voices of those who you accidentally elbowed in the process. You just needed to get out of there. 

A hand caught your arm just as the exit was finally in sight, pulling you to a stop. “Hey! Where are you going? The fun’s just about to start!” Bryce cheered. Behind her stood Hunt, who offered you a smile and a soft “hey.”

Wriggling lose of Bryce’s hold, trying to maintain an air of playfulness, you managed a laugh. “Some of us have early mornings and can’t party til dawn.”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a buzzkill. Do I need to drag Ruhn out of whatever corner he’s hiding in and convince you to stay?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you prayed neither Bryce nor Hunt could hear it. “Didn’t realize he was here. Saw Declan for, like, half a second.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at you. “So that’s a yes? Getting your boy toy will get you to stay?”

“He’s not my boy toy,” you said, “and it makes me feel icky for you to call your brother that.”

“You’re no fun!” Bryce whined. 

Hunt, either because he believed your story about an early morning or because he could sense your unease, took Bryce by the waist and slowly began to urge her away. “C’mon, this is a losing battle.”

“Fine, but you’re coming to the party this weekend, right?”

You probably weren’t, but if agreeing was what it took to get out of the White Raven without crying in front of Ruhn’s friends, then that’s what you’d do. “Duh, you think I’d miss it?”

Bryce grinned, and Hunt finally successfully urged her into the crowd to find the rest of their friends. You loosed a breath, rolled your shoulders, and made your escape. No one stopped you again, or even spared you a glance. For that, you were grateful. You weren’t sure how much more people-ing you could handle. 

Unfortunately, you did plan on making one more stop before you went home. 

Ruhn really needed a better hiding spot for his spare key. Was there anything more obvious than a potted plant by the door? It would have been laughable if you weren’t effectively breaking into his home. (Is it really breaking in if you found the key? And when the owner of said key told you where it was hidden?) 

You didn’t bother being quiet, figured that all of the home’s residents were out at the White Raven. Yet, when you shut the door, a voice had you jumping out of your skin. 

“Ruhn come back with you?” Flynn asked, leaning against the entry to the kitchen. 

You tried to steady your breathing and racing heart. “Nah. Think he’s at the White Raven with Declan. I was just swinging by to grab a couple things I left behind.” You held up the spare key for him to see. “Y’all need a better place for this than the only potted plant on the property. You’re practically asking someone to steal all your shit.”

Flynn nodded. “Cool, cool. Shout if you need anything, and try not to rob us blind, yeah?”

“Eh, I’ll leave your shit alone, but can’t say the same for Ruhn and Declan,” you joked despite yourself. 

He snorted out a laugh. “You’re funny. Shame Ruhn got to you first.”

You shrugged. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

As you walked up to Ruhn’s room, Flynn disappeared into the kitchen. He’d probably leave you alone. As long as you don’t take a long time, probably. You didn’t plan on sticking around, though. You just wanted to grab your things and get out before Ruhn returned with that faun he was eyeing. If he thought this was casual, the last thing he would want is for you to be hanging around while he was trying to get lucky. 

Thankfully, you knew where most of your things were. A couple of shirts thrown in his closet, a jacket strewn over a chair. Some miscellaneous socks mixed in with his laundry. You grabbed your lipgloss you thought you lost from the bathroom, and the pretty hand towel you brought because there was no way in hell you were using the scratchy ones they bought in bulk. Your favorite bras, buried in the top dresser drawer. 

Once you were satisfied you got everything you cared about, you made your way out of the home, praying that you wouldn’t run into Flynn again. 

He was on the couch when you came out. He eyed the bundle of clothes in your arms. “Moving out?” he teased. 

“Getting this stuff out before he thinks I’m trying to move in.”

“You and I both know Ruhn wouldn’t mind if you did. Honestly, he’d probably be more offended you were sneaking all that shit out.”

Liar. “Eh, I need to wash all this and I don’t trust you idiots to not fuck all my nice stuff up.”

Flynn laughed, throwing his head back. “You make us sound like beasts!”

“Excuse you, I was here when your sheets were stained pink after a sock made its way into the machine, and when half of Ruhn’s clothes got bleach stains after one of you forgot to rinse out the drum,” you giggled.

Fuck, you wished you had fallen for Flynn instead. Or even Declan. They were easy to talk to, and wouldn’t make you feel like an idiot for thinking that something more than casual was going on. That was more your fault than anything, you supposed. You knew who Ruhn was when he approached you at the White Raven all those months ago. He never tried to hide who he was. You were the idiot who thought he might settle down.

“Fair enough,” Flynn laughed. “Hey, you be careful alright? Ruhn’d kill me if you got hurt after leaving here.”

You were already hurt, but Flynn didn’t know that. Didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you mother hen.”

Flynn flipped you off as you left, still laughing. The bitter part of you thought he was laughing at you, knowing how big of an idiot you were. The more rational part knew he was just having a nice time joking around with you. Whatever. You probably weren’t going to be seeing him around much either way. 

Loud knocking on the door woke you up. When you glanced at your phone for the time, it was barely one in the morning. Several more hours until you would need to start the day, and way too late for anyone to be bothering you right. With a groan, you got out of bed, wrapped yourself up with a robe, and went to the door, fully prepared to chew out whoever was interrupting your beauty sleep. 

You yanked open the door. Ruhn stood on the other side. Whatever steam you had rising up inside you dissipated when you saw him. 

Pulling the robe closer around you, you asked, “What are you doing here?” More questions stayed locked in your mind—Why aren’t you home? Why aren’t you with that pretty faun? 

“Flynn said you stopped by to get some of your things,” Ruhn said. “Looked like you took more than a few. Just wanted to see if you were alright.”

You opened the door wider so he could see into your small apartment. You gestured to the couch, where your laundry basket sat, topped off with the clothes you took back from his place. “Was needing to do laundry,” you lied. “Wanted to make sure all my stuff got washed.”

He pouted—actually pouted. “I could’ve done that for you.”

“It’s no big deal—”

“Or you could’ve done it at my place. Throw in a couple of my things if you didn’t have enough for a load,” he continued. Ruhn took a step into your apartment. You took a step back. “I like having your stuff around.”

“It’ll all probably end up there again anyways,” you shrugged. You doubted it. Ruhn might have wanted to keep this casual, but you weren’t that sort of person. You craved intimacy, the closeness of a relationship. If Ruhn wouldn’t offer that, you didn’t see the point in sticking around. 

Ruhn’s violet eyes searched yours. You weren’t sure what he was looking for. It would probably be easier to walk into your mind than try to pick it up with context clues, but you also didn’t want him anywhere near your head. You didn’t want to hear any excuses he had. Anyways, Ruhn was good about staying out of your mind. He said he didn’t want to violate your trust. What a joke. “Why didn’t you talk to me tonight?”

“Huh?”

“Dec said he saw you, and Bryce said you two talked. I was there, too. I know we didn’t plan on doing anything tonight, but I would’ve liked for you to say something.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you really here, Ruhn? I know it’s not because I got my things or didn’t talk to you tonight.”

“Are we good?”

The scoff fell from your mouth before you could stop it. Seriously? Why did he even care? If this was casual, why did he care about your feelings? “You don’t have to pretend, Ruhn. I know you want to keep this casual.”

Ruhn blinked, slowly working his jaw. “What are you talking about?”

“If you want this to be casual, that’s fine. I mean, you wish you had told me that, but I can’t change the past. If you want, you know, company or whatever, that’s okay. But I’m not that sort of person. Let’s not let feelings get any more involved than they already are.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. It took him long enough. Ruhn was far from stupid. It didn’t make sense for it to take this long for it to all click. “You heard me and Dec.”

“And saw you with the pretty faun.”

Ruhn looked away. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Does it matter that I was? I mean, if this is casual, you can flirt with anyone you want. You can fuck anyone you want.”

“Stop saying that,” he near-growled. You raised your brows. What right did he have to get upset? At you no less? Fuck, you needed to put an end to all of this. Tonight. Now. 

You couldn’t hide your own ire as you said, “Why? Only you get to call it casual? I get to sit around thinking that maybe you actually give a shit about me, that you want to stick around for the long term, but you get to sleep with half of the city. Do I have that right?”

“No.”

“No, I think I do,” you said. You reached out, started to push him toward the door. Ruhn snatched your hand and tugged you against him. “Ruhn, let me go.”

“No.”

“Let me go and get the fuck out of here.”

“No,” he insisted. It was hard to ignore the desperation in his voice, but you weren’t going to fall for any of his tricks. You fell for enough of him already. 

Tears pricked at your eyes. Godsdammit, you weren’t going to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve to see you so vulnerable. Not anymore, at least. “I am not going to be the idiot in love with you,” you said, your voice thick, “not when you don’t give a shit about me.”

Ruhn’s eyes flashed. With what, you weren’t certain. “I fucking care about you!” he shouted. Oh, what you would’ve given to hear that just hours ago. Now, it meant nothing. 

“No. You either lied to Declan about this being casual, or you lied to me about wanting something with me. Either way, you lied. You do not lie to the people you care about.” You wrenched yourself away from Ruhn, grabbed the door, and pointed out to the hall. “Go. I won’t ask again.”

“I want to talk about this.”

You gestured into the hallway again. “I have nothing left to say. I’ve got neighbors, Ruhn, and you’re probably waking up the whole building.”

He said your name, so softly your resolve nearly crumbled. But you looked away, steeled yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself be treated like shit just for a fae who would never respect you. 

“Lose my number.”

Ruhn stepped toward you. He stopped right in front of you, brushed away a strand of hair that fell in your face. His eyes scanned over you, as if memorizing you. But you wouldn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Then he stepped through the threshold of the door, and you shut the door before he could say anything else, twisted the locks before he could try to open it.

You pressed your back against the door and sank down to the door. Face pressed against your knees, you began to cry, and you pretended you couldn’t hear Ruhn still standing on the other side. 

It was better off this way. 

[heedzhee-art]

more of my yapping about the fandom-given hetalia Ukraine name

I don't like the Katyusha Ukraine because in my opinion it doesn't suit her, and people constantly use the name incorrectly. basically, Katyusha is like a playful version of "Kateryna/Katya", but people write it like a formal first name pretty often (Katyusha Chernenko), no blame since it comes from a place of unfamiliarity with slavic languages, it's just a bit annoying. plus the word is associated with that one russian song that became popular during World War II god it just doesn't suit her at all in my opinion 😭

"Katyusha" is a diminutive form of the name Kateryna, except it's of russian origin; in Ukrainian the diminutive forms of the name are "Katrusya", "Katerynka", or less commonly "Katrunya"

historically, the russian empire and later the soviet union promoted russian at the expense of Ukrainian, leading to the suppression of Ukrainian culture and language. of course, some Ukrainians use Katyush/Katyusha as playful nicknames, because the blending of Ukrainian and russian, that's been caused by reoccurring russification, migration, and political influence, lead to mixed usage in everyday speech – it's a normal thing (surzhyk). it's not a crime to use this word or anything, I just find it ironic that the character that represents a nation constantly oppressed by russian imperialism, in hetalia only exists as a dependant and less important character to give russia more endearing relationships and make him more interesting, and then the Japanese fandom coincidentally has also chosen the russian word for her name (I assume it's after that popular soviet song)

really I feel there's not much Ukrainian about canon hetalia Ukraine, which seems to be a very common feeling among many of my Ukrainian friends who know about the character :/ they think she's cute and pretty, but when it comes to national identity and culture, she is not relatable even on a stereotypical level, and has little depth as a character

anyway, if you want some Ukrainian first names, here's a list of the ones I think sound fitting (SUBJECTIVE OPINION 😡)

🇺🇦🔱🌻🍲🇺🇦🌾🌻🍞🇺🇦🍲🌾

Myroslava (love this one) - slavic origin, a combination of мир and слава, meaning peace and glory. it suits resilient and strong people

Olha/Olya (ОЛЯ UA!!!!!!!) - scandinavian origin (ukr. variant of Hélga). yea it's a really old and really common name that associates with the Kyivan Rus era, anyway I use it because of a meme and due to every Olya I've met building this collective Olya in my head that's literally how I also see Ukraine. she's such an Olya. it's hard to explain

Olena (not Olyena) - greek origin (ukr. variant of Helénē) came to Ukrainian through Church Slavic "Yelena" (not Yelyena)

Lesya - Ukrainian name deriving from "Olesya" which in turn derives from "Oleksandra". I'm very biased about it because it's one of my favourite female names, and also many Ukrainians associate it with Lesya Ukrayinka, which is the self-given title of an outstanding Ukrainian writer, translator and cultural figure

Halyna - likely greek origin and comes from "galēnē". I like it because I get to call her Halynka/Halya, I think it sounds cute

Tetyana - common slavic name, likely of roman origin, it just has a tender and pretty sound to it

these names are common in some or all other slavic languages, differing in varied phonetics

😑 I am NOT gatekeeping people from calling her "Kateryna", I just personally dislike Katyusha or russian Yekatyerina for her, and in my opinion the old russian-speaking fandom did a better job naming her Olha, even if that popularized the russian transcription for this same name (Olga)

my Ukraine is named Olha Tkachenko. I just like it the most and I've kind of grown used to it. whateva

I will kiss you.

[welivetodream]

✨ My BSD hot takes/unpopular opinions ✨:

1. Identifying BSD characters as Queer, is not problematic. STOP being so Heteronormative. Gay characters are not gonna kill you.

If I see another "BuT tHe ChArAcTeRs nEvEr SaId tHeY aRe GaY" I would bomb you 💣/j

2. Skk/SSKK/Fyolai/other popular ships, exist because people like it. If you don't ship them, don't engage with their content. Not all shippers act crazy and toxic. Stop blaming everything on shippers.

3. Atsushi/Kyouka is problematic, stop justifying it with "only 4 year age gap". Kyouka is a CHILD, ship her with Kenji if you want. Atsushi, like a normal 18 year old would never look at a highschool freshman and date her. Even if they date in the future, he knew her when she was younger and they had a sibling like dynamic. Lucy is a way better love interest to Atsushi (Don't know if this is an unpopular opinion tho, but I saw some people justifying it 😐😐😐)

4. DAZAI IS NOT EVIL. HE IS FAR FROM EVIL. He is, despite being super popular and the face of BSD, the most mischaracterized and villified character. Morally grey characters exist??!!!

5. Mori is a way worse person than Dazai ever was.

6. PM members get a free pass for any heinous crime they commit by being hot or babygirl-ified (still love them tho, we do not often discuss how bad their actions have been, you can like criminals and acknowledge they are criminals in fiction. I would add DoA to this too, but it's worse with the PM)

7. Akutagawa's abuse of Kyouka shouldn't be forgotten just because Dazai abused Akutagawa.

8. Mori emotionally manipulated and abused Dazai when he was a teen. Just because it wasn't physical, doesn't mean it was nothing.

9. Atsushi is NOT a soft boy, he is way bitter, salty and sarcastic than we give him credit

10. Poe is important to Ranpo and their friendship/relationship is wholesome as hell

11. Ranpo and Yosano's friendship is way better than them being in a relationship in the future

12. FukuFuku is better than Fukumori (imo!!!!)

13. Buying real authors work after watching BSD is actually a really good thing, since more Gen z kids (or other people) will read classics

14. There are layers to Atsushi and Akutagawa relationship/rivalry, and they have the MOST important relationship (not meaning romantic, just in general) in the entire canon.

15. Kunikida and Yosano could be a power couple

16. Fyodor is not a great villain (yet)

17. Nikolai CARRIES the DoA

18. Sigma shouldn't be in the ADA, he needs a happy home, family and some time to adjust to normal life

19. Q and Elise are both underused characters and could become a great dynamic

20. Ango deserves more love, the amount of pressure and stress he deals with is INSANE

21. It's OKAY if everyone joins the fandom for Dazai or skk (I did at first too!!)

22. Higuchi is annoying as hell. I do not get her hype, I like her but not as much as most people (just personal opinion, do not flame me 😭)

23. Everyone in The Guild is forgettable or boring (except Fitzgerald, Poe and Lucy. I like Louisa, but I forget her all the time)

24. Hetero ships are just not that great/interesting in BSD to me 🤷🏻‍♀️ (except maybe AtsuLucy or rare pairs) and female characters are not best utilised, I wish they play more major roles (can't wait for Agatha to arrive!!)

25. Some fan theories/arts get the story better than "canon" stuff at times. Fanon is NOT always the worst (sometimes enjoyable when the canon gets too dark or sad)

26. Toxic ships are okay in fiction as long as they are legal. Humans like toxic things, we consume it like junk food 💅🏻

(These are all personal opinions of mine and do not matter. Feel free to disagree. But, do not hate or be toxic!!!! 😇😇😇😇)

(PS: I compiled all these because of posts I have seen in, Reddit, Pinterest, Twitter and sometimes Tiktok. These aren't really abt you Tumblr folks. I meant to post this on reddit but did not have the courage or mental strength lol)

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 20 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur finally find solace in a town and in each other, breaking down every last wall that remains.

Author’s Notes: Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Twenty: The Power of a Name

Word count: 6609

She really thought I would leave her here. What nonsense, especially after what happened in the last town and how much it haunts her. I suppose I’ll be seeing this journey through to the end. Either that, or long enough for her to tell me to get lost. Surprisingly, that ain’t happened quite yet, though I ain’t holding out hope that it won’t after how much of a fool I been towards her. We shall see, I guess.

~

It had taken ten more days to get back to civilization. The town of Ogallala was small but growing fast due to the rail built through it. Arthur knew it made you nervous to be around this many people again, but the law in this town was sparse, and the two of you kept your heads down well enough and found a hotel tucked away to stay hidden in in the meantime. If anyone came through looking for you, they’d have to go door to door to find you, and many of the townsfolk weren’t local besides. That meant no real reason to turn in two people folk hadn’t really noticed in the first place. That left Arthur calm enough not to worry over your safety like he had been the past week and a half. And that left him more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

It turned out you were nervous about more than just the law and the local population—he’d had to wriggle it out of you, but Arthur finally figured out you thought the local train station meant his departure. Your final destination wasn’t far, and you had thought he was impatient enough to get back to his gang that he would take the first train to Denver and leave you here to fend for yourself. He couldn’t begin to explain how wrong you were and had instead led you to the hotel without a word, a little miffed you thought he cared that little about you. Then again, he hadn’t outright expressed much reason for you to think otherwise, and he was starting to think it was time to. You’d immediately collapsed onto the bed upon arrival, worn from all the hard travel, so he didn’t have a chance to speak his mind anyway. Later, he told himself. Though he was in denial about the fact that very soon, there wouldn’t be a later.

Arthur sat on the floor beside the bed and chewed on a bit of cooked deer meat Beth had insisted the two of you take, looking over his journal to pass the time. Really, he wondered what to say to you. He wasn’t the best with words, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He thought of writing it down but had come up with his pitiful new journal entry instead, cowardly as ever. Then, annoyed, he turned back a page, knowing exactly what he would find. He didn’t know why it surprised him. But there you were, laid out on that bed in that barn, half-naked save for his coat. And underneath, your name. Your real name, written out after he’d finished every last gentle curve and arc of your body. He never thought knowing a name would be such an honor, but he realized that it had been your way of expressing to him what he had yet to express to you—how much you cared for him. It was obvious he felt the same, obvious in the few stolen kisses he’d gotten since what had happened in that worn down barn. But maybe the pair of you hadn’t come together like that since because he was the one holding back, not you. And that left him shameful.

Arthur looked over at you on the bed, your back steadily rising and falling in sleep. You were faced away, so he couldn’t see much of you apart from your hand draped over the bedside. Even that small glimpse of you had him thinking of how little time there was left between you and how precious this closeness was. It was time for him to admit things he never normally would or risk letting them fester within him, nothing more than regret that would chafe like hell the farther away he got from you.

Arthur stowed the deer meat and went back to studying the drawing of you. One thing he liked most about it was the look on your face—the smile. Upon first meeting you, he never would have thought someone so heartbroken could eventually be so willful again. That smile was catlike, just for him. It turned him on a little. And the rest of the drawing didn’t make matters better, nor did the thought of what the two of you had done together to cause that smile.

Arthur thought of other ways you had surprised him, as you continued to do every day. How good of a shot you were, for one. Hell, just the thought of you being so good with a gun you’d snapped that noose clean in half had him hard. Then his mind drifted to your hands wrapped around a gun, and just like that, he was lost.

Arthur’s eyes followed the curve of your breast in his coat as he thought of how argumentative you were, the way you snapped at him without fear time and again. He was used to being intimidating enough to make everyone else hold their tongue, but not you. You let him have it.

And your mouth. The way you kissed him despite not quite knowing how—it was unfair to be so good at it. Unfair to be so innocent yet so arousing. Timid yet wild, broken yet strong. All of it.

Arthur let out an annoyed breath at how aroused he had become, setting his journal aside and turning to look at you. He wouldn’t leave you again, but he was suddenly desperate to take himself in hand, something he would rather not do in front of you, asleep or not. But, he considered, you had just fallen asleep. It could be hours. You weren’t a very heavy sleeper, but he could be quiet. He could…shit. He shouldn’t be considering this. But he thought of you waking up and catching him in the act, and that made things immeasurably worse. How would you respond? That put a smile on his face. You’d never seen him naked, nor any man if he had to guess. He loved seeing that shy, surprised look on your face his overly confident words brought, and he had no doubt the sight of him pleasuring himself would make you go so red it would leave you speechless for once. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and maybe you would be curious enough to crawl off that bed and come over here, crawl in his lap and-

“Christ,” Arthur whispered, in the same sorry state he had been in that bath, thinking then of what he would do with you on the first bed you’d shared. Only now, he had no reason to feel guilty over wanting you like that. He had half a mind you wanted the same from him. Or he hoped you did, at least. If how you had responded to his touch the last time was any indication, you certainly did.

And then Arthur was thinking of what he knew he shouldn’t be, because it would lead to his hand drifting downward when he really shouldn’t allow for such things. He thought of his fingers between your legs, all those perfect sounds you made. He thought of your whispered fervor, the words don’t stop cutting through him worse than any bullet. He wanted that again. By God, he was desperate enough to wake you for it. But he wouldn’t. He would let you rest and have what little peace he could offer. Because what he was considering wasn’t quite peace so much as it was demanding, outright gratification. A desperation he could no longer tame and one he hoped to drag from you right alongside him. But again, as much as it killed him, he would wait for your desire to match his. And as he pulled another cigarette out of his ever-dwindling stash to distract him in the meantime, he knew what he felt for you must be real—nothing had ever nagged him so bad as to make him more honorable. And there was something to be said for that.

~

Two months and fifteen days. You woke up to the ceiling of yet another rented room, plagued by the thought of your parents’ deathdate. Your mother had been keeping up with the days, if only for some way to pass the time, and here you were doing the same two and a half months later, nearly to the day. It had been a Wednesday. The ninth of September. And now it was nearing the end of November, and all you could hold onto was how much you regretted not marking their graves with their birthdates and deathdates. With crosses bearing names you were proud to display but couldn’t bear to part with at the time, just like your own.

You looked to the windows lining the wall, noting the gray sky beyond. It was snowing again. It had been for nearly the entirety of the past week, though part of you wished it would give. There were many things you wished would give, namely the ache in your chest at the constant absence of your parents’ guidance. As far as you had come without it, you knew you could survive on your own, but that guidance was a crutch you would have loved to feel one last time. Comforting in its surrender.

Your eyes flicked to the man propped up against the wall, one leg bent at the knee and hat slung low over his eyes. He was either asleep or resting, and you didn’t want to disturb him either way. He didn’t allow himself to do so very often after the two of you had gotten so tangled with the law, but he deserved this. He was toughened, hardened by a life you would never have come out of alive. It made him strong in a way you wanted to grant respite to. Strong in a way you knew he never would himself. Stubborn, more like, but you couldn’t deny you recognized that only because you were the same.

Turning on the bed, a loud creak resulted that had Arthur raising his hat brim to look at you. Part of you wanted to pretend to be dozing anyway like you used to do as a child, but you met his eye instead. Held that stare until it turned contemplative. Until you were both looking beyond the eyes into the soul beneath.

“Didn’t want to sleep up here?” you said softly.

Arthur looked to the window, like of all things, that was what finally made him meek.

“You needed some sleep. And didn’t leave me much room besides.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. When he turned back to you, all you could say was, “It’s snowing again.”

“Yeah,” he said in a manner that made you recall the secret he had bestowed to you—something no one else knew about him. Your very own piece of him.

“And you don’t like the cold, do you?” you teased.

He scoffed. “No.”

Stubborn and gruff. You were grinning as you said, “That’s too bad. Guess I don’t have to face my shortcomings quite like you do.”

“Meanin’?” he said, annoyance in his voice though you knew he was curious enough not to drop it.

“The postman,” you admitted. Then he was letting out a laugh.

“I guess not.” He shook his head and looked back to the gray light of the nearest window. And something about doing what you had just done to ground yourself made you ache for him.

“Come up here.”

The words were out of your mouth in a second. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in you, not even when he looked to you with questioning eyes.

You scooted back and patted the bed in front of you. He didn’t make a fuss about it—just rose and walked over, his spurs jingling with each step. He swiped his hat from his head and sat, holding your eye as he folded his lumbering frame down on the bed beside you. You lay facing each other when he set his hat on your head, an action so fond you nearly choked up with it.

He smiled at you, likely because of the way his hat was much too big and sat crookedly, covering one of your eyes completely. You had the sudden urge to give him yours, but it was on the floor behind you, and you wouldn’t move enough to ruin this perfect moment with him. He was never so…tender. Especially not with the way he looked at you. Like it was a privilege to do so.

You tilted his hat so you could see him out of both eyes and smiled at him. “What?”

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. “Just…”

He took a moment. You would have given him all the time in the world to know what that look was for.

“You,” he admitted on an outward breath. “Ain’t what I expected.”

“How so?”

His eyes flicked away then, like he wasn’t used to this kind of talk. He obviously wasn’t, as you’d never gotten this much from him before, but it still softened you to see him so nervous over it. Like he was trying hard to get the words right.

“I didn’t expect you to be so…alive.”

Blue eyes met yours on the last word, and they nearly took your breath. Because he understood you in a way you hadn’t realized. You’d never been so proud to be called such a mundane thing. But it meant the world to you.

“I didn’t either,” you admitted. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He made a huff of surprise. Or maybe disbelief.

“I mean it,” you told him. “As much as you like to grate on my nerves, I think you’re good for me.”

“Am I?” he said, a tease in his tone.

“You are.”

“Well, I…” He trailed off, his gaze averting again. His breathing quickened and grew heavy. You were willing to bet he would kill for a cigarette right about now. But you let his words hang, hoping he would finish. Hoping he would voice what you already felt.

“I’m glad I met you,” he said lowly. “You’re pretty damn good for me too, and I ain’t just saying that because you saved my neck.”

You chuckled. “No?”

He shook his head, those blue eyes flashing. But your gaze was suddenly drawn to his throat, to the subtle line you hadn’t noticed before. He had remnants of that noose on his skin, a slightly reddish-purple scar on his throat. It looked to be healing still, like he may rid himself of it yet. You hoped he did. That was a grim reminder of something he hadn’t deserved.

Without really thinking, you reached out and touched his skin, running your thumb over the edge of the mark. He flinched but didn’t push back.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

He shrugged this off, catching your wrist and tugging it away. “Ah, I’ll survive yet. Besides, look at you now. You would have been fine without me.”

“No.” You met his eyes, needing him to know how serious you were. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

He stumbled a little over your hard gaze but went on. “I have no doubt you could have made it to your folks without me by that point.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Again, he hesitated. Just watched you.

“I would have been heartbroken all over again, Arthur.”

This shocked him. Surprisingly, after everything the two of you had been through and blatantly felt for each other, he was still taken aback to hear that you cared so much.

“I couldn’t—can’t—do this without you.”

He studied you for a beat. Then, a little gruffly, “Me neither.”

It was your turn to be shocked.

“I mean…” he went on, trying hard to get his words right. “I don’t want to.”

And there it was. Just what you had been hoping so deep down that you wouldn’t even admit it to yourself—how much you wanted him to stay. How badly you hoped he would pick you over his old life.

“Me either,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, his hand finding the side of your face. You thought he would speak again, but instead he leaned forward and brought his lips to yours. It was all you ever needed to know, better than any word he could speak.

Within seconds, you moved into him, closing the space between your bodies. The kiss was slow but loving, just like the two of you. Slow to admit anything to each other but sure of it once that fondness was shared.

You broke away from him, finally finding your courage. “When we get to North Platte, I’d like you to consider staying. With me.”

The look he leveled you with was devastating. Pure shock. Awe at being so adored.

Instead of answering, his strong arms came around you and pulled you down, turning you beneath him as he kissed you. He kissed you hard, and you returned it. The act was plenty answer enough about how he felt.

Before you had even a measure of your fill of him, he broke away. But then he moved down, his mouth finding your throat just like it had in that old barn.

This, you thought. This, with him, was all there was. And you wanted all of him.

“Arthur,” you breathed, his lips like fire lighting your skin. He stopped and met your eye. “Teach me.”

His gaze went dark, but he asked anyway. “Teach you what?”

“All of it. I want all of you.”

He studied you. Then, quietly, “You sure?”

“More than I’ve ever been.”

His mouth crashed to yours. His hands skimmed against your sides until he grabbed your hips and pinned them flat to the bed. Then he was moving down again, fervent. Deliberate as he started with your boots, just like the last time. You were a bundle of anticipation as you watched him, felt him. But this time, you wouldn’t stand for him to do all the work himself.

Once he had your shoes off, you came forward and pushed him down to the bed instead. You knelt over him and started taking off his boots, unbuckling his gun belt. You didn’t care that you hadn’t done this and didn’t know what in the hell to do other than copy what he had done to you the last time. You shed your own coat and leaned forward, kissing him as you ran your arms through the sleeves, shedding the burly garment. And you kept kissing him as you brought his coat over his shoulders, letting him lean up as you pulled it away from his back and arms. Once he had one arm free, he wrapped it around you and pulled you tight against him as he kissed you hard, landing you right in his lap. His tongue was desperate against yours, and you could feel every inch of your arousal explode at the feeling of him so close. Of what was to come.

Eventually, the two of you parted enough for him to get more of your layers off. But your focus was never so sharp as it became when you went to undo the buttons of his shirt and union suit. Each inch of skin revealed was a gift. He was muscled and broad, with hair lining his chest and scars on his slightly freckled skin. One jagged pink line just under his collarbone drew your eye, and you kissed it. Your mouth was never so addicted to someone as it was when you started kissing his chest, moving upward, toward his neck. Then, finally, his mouth. Nothing was ever so perfect. He let out a satisfied breath and laid back down, content to let you kiss him. You were just the same. You suddenly wished you could draw like he could so that you could record this moment in your memory forever—what it looked like. You on top of him in nothing but your chemise and pants, sure as you kissed him. Him splayed below you, perfectly content to be there, his broad body encompassing yours and his shirt and union suit halfway off. That was doing things to you that you couldn’t explain. Your barely covered breasts were pushed up against his bare chest, and the heat and friction it brought was pure pleasure. Not to mention his mouth and how fully he took you, exploring every inch of you. One of his hands had fallen to your backside and was squeezing you with the slightest pressure but over and over again so that your bodies moved together. It was so good you needed more.

Finally finding the will to back off him again, you took his shirt and threw it aside before beginning to unbutton his pants. His head fell back to the bed, and he let out a low groan when your hands worked over what you were willing to guess was the most sensitive part of him. The anticipation to see his bare body ate at you so that you sped up, slipping his pants from his long, muscled legs. All that remained on him was the bottom half of his union suit, and the material was thin enough for you to see the outline of a hard bit of muscle running alongside his thigh and toward his belly. You knew next to nothing about a man’s anatomy but knew this was how one differed from a woman. So, without really thinking, you laid your hand on him there. He let out a groan so arousing you wanted this to happen already, wanted to feel that pleasure he had wrought from you so easily before.

You moved back up his body and started kissing him when he flipped you again, laying you underneath him. The sight was, again, something you’d never forget. Those broad, strong shoulders your gaze kept snagging on shifted and flexed as he worked the buttons of your pants. His chest did too, every scar moving under his strength. His arms were equally distracting, and you knew then it was no wonder people were easily intimidated by him. But you weren’t. And you admired every inch of him you could see as he slid your pants off and made to push your chemise up your chest.

“I’m making the same deal with you as before,” he said lowly as he admired your body. “You don’t like anything about this, and you tell me. I’ll stop.” His eyes met yours in their sincerity.

“You know I won’t stop you,” you breathed, the words coming out feminine and needy.

“We got a deal?” he said anyway.

You nodded. And because you remembered he preferred you to say it aloud, “Yes.” Then he pushed your chemise up and over your breasts, over your head and arms until he was dragging it all away. All your hesitation and inexperience, gone. All of it lost in the wake of his want of you.

He immediately brought his mouth down to your nipple, the feeling of warmth it brought just like last time. You’d forgotten how perfect it felt. You brought your hand to the back of his head, playing with the short strands as your mouth fell open in pleasure. He was moving against you this time, his heavy body lining against yours in a way that drove you mad.

You let out a moan at a particularly harsh swirl of his tongue, then did it again when his free hand found your other breast. God above, you could feel this for an eternity and never tire of it. But this wasn’t just about you.

Your hand slid down his muscled back, down until it reached the edge of his union suit. You wanted it off. Wanted him bare, completely.

You started to tug at the fabric when Arthur’s hands shifted, and his mouth moved away just enough for him to get his balance as he stripped his remaining clothes away. You watched him in awe. You watched as he turned slightly to get the union suit over his feet, the sight of his bare side so muscled and strong like the rest of him wholly distracting. But it wasn’t until he turned back toward you that your gaze caught and held. You could feel his eyes on you, could sense his amusement in his resulting chuckle, but you didn’t care. What you had touched before between his legs was now free of any clothing, a hard line of muscle just like the rest of him that stood erect against his body. The sight alone swallowed you in arousal.

He clambered closer, beginning to speak. “You-”

Your hand was around that proud length before he could say another word. He hissed a breath at your touch, and you quickly let go, thinking you’d done something wrong.

“Christ, woman,” he mumbled, nearly falling on top of you in his fervor to kiss you again.

“I’m sorry,” you said into his mouth, not knowing what it was you’d been trying, only that you couldn’t resist.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes, his gaze full and heavy as the smirk beneath it. “Shit, don’t apologize. I’d prefer you did it again if it wouldn’t cut this meetin’ so short.”

You were more confused by that than anything but didn’t respond, especially when he leaned down to kiss you and you felt that length against your thigh, hard and impossible to ignore.

You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hand begin to skim down your side. His fingers brushed over the bumpy, scarred skin near your ribs and hesitated. He broke away, looking down at the scar he had mended back together himself. His fingers ran across it, caressing it. A wordless apology for what had happened to you. The touch made conflicting emotions fight to be free from deep within you. Because the scar was a painful reminder of what would never go away, a loss so potent you could cry over it even now. But you wouldn’t, because you were equally as enthralled with Arthur’s loving touch, with how he had stitched you back together both physically and emotionally. He was still doing it to this day. And the touch was a tangible reminder—how much he would surrender himself over to you just to make you somewhat whole again. Something you’d never thought you would be gifted by him but, you were beginning to learn, something he did naturally. Kind, selfless man.

Arthur brought his mouth down to your side and pressed a kiss to that scar, tender and patient. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, needing to put your thoughts elsewhere. Needing him to put the pieces of you back together again one more time.

He obliged you. All sadness was lost as his hand drifted downward and between your legs, a blazing heat taking its place. Just like before, he worked his fingers against you as a slickness gathered there, urging you to rock against him. And you did, a bundle of anticipation over waiting for what you had felt last time—his finger sliding inside of you. But he took his time and circled his thumb around those nerves again, making you arch into his touch.

After enough of this, it turned into a pleasurable sort of torture. You broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you warned, though it sounded more like begging. And perhaps you were.

He let out a low laugh that caught on every inch of your arousal. “Just making sure you’re ready for me. Don’t want to hurt you, darlin’.”

Darling. How endearing. Now that was a nickname you could grow used to.

You considered what else he’d said and remembered that slight feeling of discomfort at his finger moving inside of you, like your body wasn’t used to such things. But you also remembered how good it felt to get beyond that feeling, that and his chosen nickname enough to have you wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him back down in a kiss. He let out a low noise this time, more of a satisfied breath. And it was enough to have your tongue finding his as his finger dipped inside of you. You froze, completely focused on the feeling. Arthur took control of the kiss, of everything, as he moved his hand against you. You were breathing heavy in seconds, the feeling beyond satisfaction.

After enough of this for that curling feeling to take hold deep within you, he slipped another finger into you. You were wrong before. That was beyond satisfaction. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you couldn’t kiss him anymore as you rocked against his hand, completely caught up in those thick fingers moving so persistently. He didn’t miss a beat, his mouth going to your neck instead, pressing hot kisses to the spot just below your ear as you panted for him.

The feeling from before, that explosive feeling you so wanted to experience again, was nearing. “Please,” you whispered, desperate for it. But before Arthur could drag it out of you, his fingers were slipping away. You nearly whimpered at the loss, looking down to see why he’d stopped. Your heartbeat pounded through you, right between your legs, when you saw where he moved. He was settling between your legs, the hard length of him running against the inside of your thigh. And you understood then exactly what this was, what you had asked of him and what he was about to do. To be fit together so perfectly, so completely, that there was no beginning or end between you.

He met your eyes, boxing you in completely beneath his heavy body. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough with his own arousal.

“Desperately,” you breathed.

That made him smirk, the look of it so perfect on his face you wanted to kiss it away. But he beat you to it, his mouth coming down on yours. And in seconds, his full weight was against your body, and he pushed his hips into yours until you felt the head of his length slip inside of you. You moaned, your head falling back to the bed with how perfect and full it felt, and Arthur grunted as his hands found your head and he devoured you in a kiss, his hips moving slowly and carefully, in and out as shallowly as he could.

You couldn’t get air down but didn’t care as the feeling of him moving inside of you stretched you wide. He went deeper with every rock of his hips, the small bout of pain returning like it had before, but you didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t dare. It was more pleasurable than it was harsh, and besides, it was doing things to him, not just you. Things you wanted to hear and feel from him every moment. He was as lost as you were, beginning to pick up his pace as his mouth on yours became distracted.

You were soon both panting, both riding on pleasure so full and growing fuller the deeper he rocked into you. He finally broke the kiss, bearing all focus on where your bodies met. By now he was so deep inside of you it was impossible to think of him never not being there, like he belonged there. And the thought alone of him taking you like this, making you his, was forcing that tension deep within you to ratchet up at every thrust.

You whined his name. He groaned low and rough in response, shifting his hands to your hips to hold you steady beneath him as he thrust hard. It felt so good you knew you would be unraveling again in seconds. And, to add to that perfect build, you brought one leg up and hooked it around him, making for a better angle for him to sink into you. It was immediately euphoric.

“Y/N,” he groaned, a desperate plea.

And that—the power in that utterance, your name on his lips—was your undoing.

You let out a small cry as your pleasure snapped in two.

He cursed a filthy word, and your world constricted to the feel of him inside of you, rocking those beautiful hips, pulling every ounce of pleasure your body could give. It shot through every part of you. It tore you apart and put you back together all at once. Just like his fondness for you did.

You were letting out one long whine for him when your senses came back. And, you realized, he was saying something. Your name. He was saying your name like a prayer. Never in your life were you so proud for someone to have it, for someone to use it in this way. So reverent and honored by it, like it was a gift to know it and a privilege to speak it.

You loved him then. You were sure of it.

Arthur’s pace stuttered a moment before a breath rattled through his chest and he pulled back, sliding out of you. He half-collapsed on top of you, something warm and wet meeting the skin of your stomach as he groaned like a man utterly unraveled. You knew then he was experiencing the same pleasure you just had. Knowing you’d both felt it, together, because of each other…you were so proud that the feeling fought to be free from your chest.

Arthur drew in each labored breath above you, only propped up by one strong forearm now. The other fell lazily over you as he held the side of your face like he would never release you again. His hair fell over his gaze, and only when he looked up at you did you smile. Just for him.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, running his thumb along your cheekbone as he went back to attempting to control his breathing.

You blushed under those words but pushed through the flattered feeling it brought you and said what you couldn’t resist. “Was that- was I…okay?”

He scoffed a laugh. “You kidding?”

“I don’t exactly know what I’m doing-”

He cut you off with a less than innocent kiss and pulled back with that smirk on his face. “You were perfect.” He rolled to his back beside you, the bed creaking with his weight. Still, he sucked down air like he couldn’t catch it. That proudness of yours reared its head again at the sound. “So perfect,” he continued, “That I’m gonna need to do it all over again just to be sure it’s as perfect as I remember.”

Now that, you could get behind. Those muscles low in your belly were already tightening at the mere mention of again. But before you could turn to him and coax him into repeating the act, he was leaning over the side of the bed, his strong back flexing with the movement. The sound of his satchel opening and shutting filled the room, and then he had a black cloth in his hand and was touching it to your belly. Right—you’d forgotten about that wetness from before, and now you watched as he wiped whatever it was away.

“What’s that?” you had the courage to ask.

Arthur’s eyes flicked up to yours, and that incessant smirk returned. “‘Course,” he said, swiping the last of it away and tossing the cloth aside. “Forgot you knew as much about this as I do about living up in them mountains.”

“Very funny.”

He snickered. “It’s…well. When a man finds his pleasure, that’s what happens.” His expression filled with amusement as he shifted to his side, propping up on an elbow. “You don’t know nothing about this, do you? About being with child?”

You shook your head. “I figured sex leads to pregnancy, but I’ve never really thought past that.” And suddenly, the very idea had worry blooming sharp and fierce within you. “I won’t…I’m not going to get pregnant, am I?”

He snickered again and shook his head more with amusement than any sort of affirmation. “No, you won’t.”

“How are you so sure-”

“Relax,” he teased, drawing the word out. “The only way that could happen is if I’d done that inside of you.”

You felt Arthur’s smirking stare like a brand then, because just those words had your arousal flaring. Did part of you…want that?

You must have made a face, because Arthur pushed you on it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

He chuckled, the sound making you turn away or risk admitting that particular genius.

“Can’t lie to me, darlin’.”

There was that word again. You turned back to him, finding you were watching his mouth of all things. “You finally landed on a decent nickname, then.”

“You like that one?”

God, his smile. The way he said those words. You were a mess of fondness over his annoyingly handsome face when you quipped, “Much better than the others.”

“What, nameless or sweetheart?”

You swatted at his bare chest and immediately regretted it when your hand met with hard muscle. “Damn you,” you muttered, but you were smiling as you said it. Stupid, perfect man. He smiled right back.

“At least you never have to call me nameless again,” you offered.

His smile turned thoughtful. Content. “No. I don’t.”

You remembered then how he had said your name before. It ate you up inside to think he had only used it in the moments that mattered most. The first time being when you’d offered it to him, something that led to your walls coming down right alongside his. Then moments ago, giving up the last pieces of yourselves to each other. And maybe that’s what that utterance had been to him—a surrender. The damning truth that you both felt too strongly to shy away from it any longer. There was no more space for reluctance to stay. There was no more time for it either.

You recalled your request before all this, asking him to stay with you. He’d never answered, but when he said your name with so much care, any worry about the matter vanished. Because there was love in that word. He felt for you just as you felt for him. And that was more answer than anything else he could have said because he had used the perfect word to make you understand—the word most important to you of any of them. Not a yes, but a confession. Not an acceptance, but a name. The one word you had left to hold dear. And looking at him now smiling down at you, you felt that fondness and understanding from him better than you’d ever felt it from anyone.

Instead of any response, you kissed him. Acceptance in your own form. And just as soft and supple as a yes on his lips, he kissed you back.

_________

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw @c1gs-coffee

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

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[cerisemerald]

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

[shotoyami]

Can I request Scott summers x reader ( gender doesn't matter ) where Scott is reminiscing about his life with the reader. Scott and reader are bestfriends and have always been together as X-Men, they have never left eachother. As he is reminiscing he's like shoot I think I'm in love with my bestfriend.

Bro, what if we like…kissed right now? Wouldn’t that be, idk, crazy?

prenotes: first off: I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS, SOFT SCOTT OMGGGG!!!!

that aside, my absolute obsession for this man aside,

this request literally made my heart melt, imagining how silly and cliche it is to realize you’re in love with your best friend; literally one of my favorite troupes, hands down.

Thank you so much for the request, anon<3

pairing: Scott Summers + gender neutral reader

warnings: none, yet again!

genre: fluff, absolute filthy fluff– like, seriously, enough to make even the strongest man crumble and slam his fist to the ground

notes: as mentioned above, one of my favorite troupes. it’s everywhere in media, but you can’t help but squeal and kick your feet when you see it happening. I am but a simple human being, in love with the cutest, most sweetest concepts known to man. that aside, I hope everyone enjoys this one as much as I enjoyed writing!!!

word count: 700

Scott’s always deemed himself as awkward. Yeah, sure, it’s a pretty huge flaw of his, but everyone is awkward about something at some point. 

That being admitted, Scott fully understands that friends aren’t awkward with each other (at least, not from any experience of his). In fact, he finds himself quite content in his friendships, especially one with his best friend, (y/n). A silly little mutant, one that instantly clicked with him. It was refreshing to have someone that didn’t immediately smartass him. They’d always been so respectful of him and valued his say-so– it really didn’t come as a huge surprise to anyone that the two were fast friends.

It’s refreshing to have a best friend like (y/n), someone he can speak unfiltered to. For example, when he and Jean broke up (gosh, he’s cringing so hard at the memory– her admitting she’s leaving him for Logan of all people), (y/n) was the first to check up on him, and even did their best to keep his morale high.

Now, don’t get him wrong, Scott is no sort of rule breaker, not by a long shot, but who can say no to (y/n)’s pouting face when they asked him to sneak out one night and just…take a break from the mansion, from other mutants, for one night to just be at peace.

And he appreciated it a lot. It definitely helped. But, being around (y/n) in general is always so much fun, it’s almost upsetting when he has to retreat to his dorm for the night– well, unless they had an impromptu sleepover, set with a pillow fort and everything. 

To have someone understand him so well, someone he genuinely enjoys being around and listening to, from going on missions together, to just listening to them rant about whoever had annoyed them the most that day, even to just laying next to each other (not touching, of course, Scott prides himself on being extremely respectful of boundaries, thank you very much).

That all being said, Scott just couldn’t shake a growing feeling recently, one that made him stop and think about how he feels his best around his best friend. It’s like he’s been seeking their presence more and more recently– but he wouldn’t consider himself clingy? It’s all confusing, and a lot to digest, so he’s just pushed it aside.

But now, sitting in his dorm, lost in thought while still attentively nodding as (y/n) rambles about their latest annoyance (Gambit’s daily card trick that involved blowing up the fridge), Scott can’t help it as it hits him. The realization hits him hard– like a train carrying 5000 tons of freight had ran right into him. ‘Holy shit, I’m in love with my best friend.’ Scott stares blankly for a second. It all made so much sense now, the lingering touch they shared when passing an item to one another, the longing gaze that followed (y/n) any time they’d leave the general area.

“(y/n) I have something to tell you!” Scott blurts out, leaving the other person confused, though they tilt their head, urging him to continue since apparently it was important enough to interrupt them. “I think I like you- like, a lot, but I don’t want to jinx or ruin what we have, I value our friendship so much and-”

“Damn, that’s gay Scott.” ‘What? Is that really all they have to say?!’ Scott frowns a bit after hearing that response, it was unserious and clashing with him as if they think he’s joking or– “Alright, I’m chill with gay. Gimme a smooch, Scotty.” Though a bit caught off guard by the random nickname, Scott finds himself unable to argue, scooting closer to them and– hesitantly, looking for further consent– reaches to cup a hand against their cheek. He leans in and– god, it’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, so soft and full of feelings, a silent admission from their side of reciprocation. He finds himself chasing after the feeling of the kiss when they separate, which only causes (y/n) to giggle. “Gosh, desperate are we?”

“Only for you…”

[prodigal-san]

Does that mean Alastor looses his cool when Lucifer tries to kiss him ? In the hellborn!luci Au? How does he feel about Charlie?

(Hehe I love all these questions!!)

Well Alastor struck a deal with Lucifer in exchange for his help. He provides financial support for Charlie on the condition that Lucifer “entertain” him. Growing up in Lust and hearing all sorts of rumors about Alastor, Lucifer assumed it would be THAT kind of entertainment… and the first time Alastor ordered Luci to entertain him, Luci sat on his lap and Alastor… combusted 😂 shenanigans ensue~

Jokes aside, Luci will always respect Alastor’s boundaries though! Once he realizes that Alastor is a virgin who can’t cope with his sexiness, he backs off. This makes Alastor angry though ‘cuz it’s a blow to his pride to be “coddled.”

As for Charlie, his feelings about her are more or less neutral, mostly because she takes after Luci so much. If she had looked more like Lilith it probably would have been a problem. She’s inquisitive and kind and mostly unafraid of him, which he finds both annoying and refreshing LOL 😂

[thejudeduarte]

‼️THE COURT OF SHADOWS HEADCANONS‼️

Liliver and Van would give Cardan regular updates on Jude during her exile because ofc he'd be worried sick abt her

Liliver, Van, Garret and Cardan would all play EXTREME truth or drink but because they can't lie is extra serious and ends up with a very annoyed Jude

Frequently during the exile Cardan would get super drunk and tell Liliver and Van about how much Jude means to him and when he got her the dress, write her name all over the paper and when they kissed in tcp ect ect. Liliver would probably end up crying herself to sleep that night (I don't blame her)

Liliver loves noodles and when she introduces Cardan to them he gains a new obsession with Chinese take-away

Liliver would make funny harmless bombs or potions to put people to sleep or something and plant them in Lady Asha's room. For fun, of course

Jude would braid or do Lilivers hair for her often

Cardan would help apply Lilivers make-up sometimes

Cardan insisted on putting on a party or celebration for Liliver and Van so he brought funny party hats and stuff from target and threw a party in their base

All the new recruits would be too scared to talk to Cardan (I know I would be)

The court got Cardan a pet snake/snake toy as a joke for his birthday one year and he wasn't very impressed

Liliver and Jude would often have 'girls night' but instead of doing face masks or whatnot they would throw daggers at targets and talk about the best way to kill someone with minimal damage. And gossip, of course

Cardan would go to Van for life advice a lot

I've never done hc so I hope you like them!! And I love the court of shadows so you knew they had to be my first lol