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ellecdc · 3 days

Note

Black!reader that is “I don’t smoke” (mitski) because if their parents ‘you need to be mean be mean to her me, she I can take it and put it inside of me’

hi babes, this was my take on Black!reader who was always hurting on behalf of everyone else. this fic is very angsty compared to my usual standards, so please keep that in mind before reading, and mind the warnings. of course, as typical on ellecdc we have a happy/hopeful ending

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader after The Prank™ [4.7k words]

CW: The Prank™, Black family trauma, the Marauders aren't speaking to each other, depressive episodes and self-loathing, siblings get quasi-violent/threats of violence? but for a good cause?, Remus' typical self-loathing, discussion of forgiveness and hatred, breaking up [not pictured] and making up [pictured]

The worst part-

Though, even the thought caused Sirius to scoff humourlessly, because what could possibly be the worst part of this? What could possibly be any ‘more worse’ than the worst thing he’d ever done?

Still, Sirius supposed, wand to his head, the worst thing about all of this would be the fact that Sirius didn’t regret it. Not really.

If anything, he only felt stronger in his conviction that Snape deserved to be mauled violently to death.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t find he felt particularly good about it all; about the way Remus woke up with new, deep, angry scars across his face courtesy of The Wolf who finally had a chance at a meal only to have that stolen before he turned on himself, about the way he looked at Sirius with an expression of pure unadulterated betrayal and fury when he realised what happened, about the three well aimed hits he took from James, nor about the way he had to listen through the door as Remus ended your relationship with you, officially giving into all of his deep-seeded self-loathing and beliefs that no one could or should possibly accept him.

And all Sirius managed to do was prove that to be true; that Remus couldn’t trust anyone. And as a result, he robbed you of the only love you had access to save what little you received from Regulus and Sirius.

So perhaps Sirius regretted that, but without access to a Time Turner, there was nothing to be done.

Nothing to be done.

James had told him that “until he made things right with Remus, he wanted nothing to do with him”, and while he didn’t blame James, Sirius knew he was officially on his own because there would be no ‘making things right’. There was nothing right, not with Sirius, at least.

There was nothing to be done.

He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the sensitive skin at the corner of his mouth cracking painfully as he took a drag. He appreciated the sting as his teeth started to taste like iron; the pain was both a welcome reminder and a distraction of his inner turmoil as he kept his gaze on the grounds below him.

He couldn’t look at the common room; the red and gold that once felt like home were merely shades of grey. He couldn’t look in a mirror; his permanently downturned lips and angry eyes found him looking more like his father than he did himself. He couldn’t look at his hands; they were blistered and cracked from his tryst in the forest where he emptied his lungs by screaming until he was choking on air and punching uselessly at a tree.

He couldn’t look at any of his friends, because they couldn’t even look at him; they hated him.

He was hated.

Sirius had begun to wonder how many more classes he could miss before McGonagall followed through on her threats to write home when the portrait hole opened.

He couldn’t look, though. Because he was hated.

“Aren’t you meant to be in class?” He heard you call to him, listening to your measured steps as you made your way to his spot on a windowsill.

“I could ask the same of you.” He gruffed; voice cracking from disuse, from chain smoking, and from the perpetual tightness he had felt since That Night.

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You sighed; you were exhausted. Exhausted of him.

He was exhausted too.

“I’m minding my business, Y/N.” He spat back, stubbing out his smoke before lighting another one with a snap of his fingers. “You should try it sometime.”

With a wave of your hand, the smoke was gone.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up.” You ordered simply, and Sirius shook his head at you.

“Go back to the dungeons.”

“No.”

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Great, neither am I.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“And I don’t want to be here,” You agreed, voice rising at Sirius’ petulance, “but I’ve got a brother who decided to stop functioning a few weeks ago, so here I am.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You smell.”

“Yeah well, you’re ugly.” Sirius sneered, pulling out another cigarette only for you to vanish the entire pack.

“When was the last time you showered?” You demanded, and Sirius refused to look at you.

“Hm? Or changed? Or ate? When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Sirius kept his gaze pointed at the grounds outside.

“Sirius. Your hair is greasy, you smell stale, you look gaunt, and…they’re going to write home.”

“Good.” Sirius spat quickly. “As they should.”

“Is that what you want, Sirius? You want more people to be mad at you? More people to punish you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re already doing that enough for the rest of us.” You sighed, attempting to grab him by the arm only for him to shove you away.

“Get away from me, Y/N, I mean it.”

“No, get up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now.” You nearly growled, and Sirius turned to see you pointing your wand at him.

“What? Gonna hex me? Or are you gonna skip right to the Unforgivables, hm? Maybe an imperio? Or are you going to try some negative reinforcement? A crucio for disobedience? Salope stupide, de plus en plus comme ma mère chérie chaque jour.” (translation: stupid bitch, more and more like mother dearest every day)

Sirius flinched as you quickly raised your hand, prepared for a blow that you never landed.

He looked back to see you standing there, hand poised like it was ready to hit him as you stared at him defiantly; your cool, piercing eyes so much like his own, but the displeased pinch of your mouth was that of your mother.

“Is that what you want, Sirius? Huh? You want to be walloped a few more times on the nose so that everyone knows what a bad dog you are? You want to be punished for your misdeeds? Maybe get a few more of these?” And you punctuated your question by roughly grabbing at his jaw, fingers pressing into the painful bruises still healing courtesy of James. “That’s why you haven’t bothered healing them, yeah? So that everyone who sees will know what a right bastard you are.” He smacked your hand away with one arm and shoved you away from him with the other.

“Or,” you continued - rather unphased by Sirius’ aggression - grabbing his balled up fist and bringing it up to your own face, “is it me you want to hit, hm? You want everyone else to hurt just as badly as you are? The world has been just terrible to you Sirius, you were dealt an awful hand! You just want everyone to suffer for it; to pay for the wrongs done to you.”

“Stop it.” Sirius hissed, trying to yank his hand away from you to no avail.

“Hit me then, Sirius. Hit me. You wanna give into that Black Darkness? Want to be just as bad as they are? Just as bad as they’ve painted you to be? Go ahead.”

“Stop.”

“Then get up.”

“Y/N…” He warned.

“Get up, Sirius.”

“I hate you.” He spat, and your jaw tightened but you rolled your eyes as if you found him to be quite tiresome.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you very much right now either.”

He stood then, giving you no time to get out of his way before he was towering over you. You never faltered, though. He let you grab him by the sleeve of his shirt, he let you drag him up the stairs towards his dormitory - somewhere he hadn’t been since That Night, opting instead to sleep on the couches, a time or two in the room of requirement, and one night in the Shrieking Shack as Padfoot - and he let you bodily shove him into the boys’ bathroom.

“Get in the shower, Sirius.”

“Sunny, please.”

“I’m not asking.” You said firmly. “Get in the shower.”

“I can’t.”

You swore under your breath as you dragged him over to the shower stall, said nothing as he went no bones and sunk to the floor, and simply turned the shower on, soaking you both.

“Y/N, stop.”

“Sirius, if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will. Those are your choices.” You said defiantly, staring down at him as your school uniform became more and more drenched and your hair started sticking to the side of your neck.

Sirius let out a sigh and rested his head against his knees, and you accepted his relenting as the acquiescence it was.

You pointed the shower head at him and began lathering soap into his hair before doing much the same with the conditioner.

Sirius let the soap burn his eyes; welcomed it, even. He did nothing to help you with your tasks, though you didn’t ask him to. He did, however, draw the line at you trying to disrobe him.

“These need to come off, Sirius.” You said, pulling at his uniform shirt like something disgusting you found in a gutter.

“And I will take them off once you’re no longer staring at me.” He growled, causing you to scoff a humourless laugh.

“Like hells I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Sirius simply groaned.

“How are you going to wash your body, Sirius? Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that too.”

Sirius ripped the bar of soap out of your hands and glared at you as he shoved it beneath his clothes, washing himself the best he could under his sopping wet uniform.

Though he was more than likely still sudsy, you shut the water off and vanished what water you could from both of your beings; each of your heads and uniforms still soaked as you flung open the bathroom door and marched across the hall.

Sirius’ mouth ran dry when you knocked on their dormitory door; somewhere between you confronting him in the common room and forcing him to bathe, classes seemed to have ended.

He should’ve flung himself out of the common room window when he had the chance; he couldn’t see Remus, James, or Peter. They hated him.

He was hated.

Remus wouldn’t talk to any of them, and James and Peter weren’t talking to Sirius. Even though Remus had told them he didn’t want them “taking sides”, he didn’t seem to mind watching Sirius get iced out.

Because he hated him.

Sirius was hated.

“Oh…hi, Y/N…” James offered awkwardly as he opened the door.

You barely spared him a glance. “Potter.” You greeted simply as you dipped under his arm which had been holding the door open and marched towards Sirius’ bed.

Remus pulled his head through the hole of his jumper as he watched you start digging through Sirius’ trunk, sharing a quick glance with James and Peter before his gaze moved to Sirius all but cowering in the doorframe.

“Are you…wet?” Peter asked cautiously then, all three boys staring at you in bemusement as you packed up a duffle.

“Yeah.” You responded simply, throwing Sirius a towel that he (thankfully) caught as everyone’s eyes fell to him.

Sirius quickly ran the towel over his person as you let his trunk close with a loud thunk, hiking the bag you packed for him over your shoulder and stalked out of the dorm room without sparing any of the boys - including your ex boyfriend - a passing glance.

“Don’t you hate me?” Sirius whispered as he allowed you to lead him to the Slytherin dorms.

“No, Sirius. I hate what you did.” You sighed, never faltering in your steps but strengthening your hold on your brother's wrist. “I love you, that’s why I’m here.”

Remus had tried telling Peter and James to leave him alone; he wanted to be alone.

Yet somehow, every morning, the two of them would sit across from him in the Great Hall, say hello, and then talk amongst themselves whilst pretending he wasn’t there.

That was fine, though. Remus was sort of pretending he wasn’t there, too.

But while Remus could ignore James and Peter’s existence, Sirius’ existence, and even his own if he really tried hard enough, he couldn’t ignore your existence.

He’d been more than slightly confused when you stormed into his dorm room last night completely drenched without your eyes ever cutting to him and packed up a bag for your equally drenched brother.

He’d been more than slightly hurt when you left without sparing him a glance, too. Though he figured perhaps he deserved that. This is what he wanted, right?

Scratch that, actually, what he had wanted was to be safe and loved and protected by the people who promised to do that for him.

It wasn’t until Peter and James paused in their conversation to look at Remus concernedly that he realised he had caused his tea to overflow by means of accidental magic.

Remus threw a wad of napkins at the mess as he made to stand, but his legs felt wholly incapable of holding him up when he saw you enter the Great Hall, quickly followed by a rather dispirited looking Sirius who nearly bumped into you as you paused at the entrance.

Your gaze automatically fell to the Slytherin table where Regulus was shooting you and Sirius a perturbed look.

You turned then towards the Gryffindor table when your gaze fell to Remus.

He found himself unable to break your gaze; he wondered if you could see the heartbreak pooling in his eyes, or the longing painted in the space between his brows.

He wondered if you could even see past the new, ferocious scars decorating his face.

He certainly couldn’t.

Your shoulders fell as you shook your head - so minutely that Remus wondered if he had only imagined it - before you grabbed Sirius’ sleeve and dragged him towards the Ravenclaw table where both Pandora and Benjy accepted the pair of you without issue.

He was simultaneously grateful that neither of you were sitting over here and furious that the two of you deigned to sit anywhere else. You were his; his friend, and his girlfriend, you were supposed to be here with him.

But he didn’t want either of you over here, he didn’t want…

He didn’t…

“Moony?” James asked cautiously.

“Don’t call me that.” Remus gruffed before he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall.

He never wanted any of this; sure, he wanted to go to school, but he never wanted friends. He didn’t need friends, he’d never had them before. He met some kind kids on the train who ended up being his roommates, but he was ready and willing to hold them at arm's length.

And then…

And then he found that he rather liked their company, and that they seemed to enjoy his. And then he found that he cared for them, and that they seemed to care for him. And then they found out, and they were accepting of him. And then they did the impossible and found a way to be there for him like no one else before, they showed up for him in ways no one else had ever tried, in ways he never imagined possible.

And then he fell in love, and then…

And then.

And then one of the worst people Remus could imagine to know learned of his darkest secret, his biggest shame, his lifelong curse.

And he learned that from one of his best friends. Snape learned of Remus’ darkest secret, biggest shame, and lifelong curse from one of his best friends.

And suddenly, everything everyone had ever said about lycanthropy was true; he was a monster, unloveable, a threat and hazard to everyone around him.

And as he paused in front of a window where he could see his reflection - three violent claw marks from his left eye across the bridge of his nose down over his lips - the monster stared back at him.

He was a beast. He was a monster playing dress up; cosplaying as a wizard day in and day out when in reality, deep down, he was a vicious, disgusting freak.

And now everyone knew it; Sirius knew it, you knew it, Snape knew it.

And for those who didn’t know it, they could suspect it; rumours flying around of how Remus managed to be mauled by some creature and survive to tell the tale, because the only thing scarier than a beast among men is a man that can take on a beast and live to tell the tale.

The worst part-

But the thought made Remus snort humourlessly, because really, how could there be a worst part of any of this? What could possibly be ‘more worse’ than the worst thing to ever happen to him, second only to being bitten all those years ago.

But Remus supposed, wand to his head, that the worst part of all of this was losing you.

Remus let out another humourless chuckle as he let his head fall with a thunk against the windowpane.

And the absolute fucking kicker was that losing you had been his own doing.

For the first time in perhaps five days, you were alone.

You sat in the farthest corner of the library near rows of tomes with enough layers of dust on them to promise you some solitude as you waited for Sirius’ meeting with McGonagall to end.

You’d convinced him (rather forced him) to start attending his classes again, though you were certain he wasn’t exactly a delight to have in the classroom at the moment. You only hoped it was enough for the school to refrain from writing home.

You dropped your quill and pressed your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars. Sirius was displeased with you for ordering him about. Regulus was displeased with you for babysitting Sirius and ‘cleaning up’ after him. Your parents were displeased with you seemingly because you were born with free will. Your professors were displeased with you for submitting sloppy work because you spent the majority of your time doing Sirius’ for him in order to keep him from being expelled. Your roommates were displeased with you for smuggling a dog into your room for the past week, even though he was very well behaved and slept dutifully on the end of your bed. And Remus…

And Remus.

He had looked so hollow and… dead when he told you this needed to end, that he couldn’t see you anymore. You didn’t think he was capable of occlusion, but that was the only thing that could possibly explain how he could manage to look at you like you didn’t even matter to him anymore.

Perhaps you didn’t.

You didn’t matter.

Perhaps you were too much like your brother; he couldn’t forgive him, so you were unforgivable too. Perhaps you were just too much of a Black for him; perhaps he realised the mistake in keeping your kind around.

You couldn’t blame him, you supposed.

You were a tiresome bunch. You didn’t often want to keep your kind around, either.

You shook yourself out of your pity party and returned to your notes, only to watch as Remus pulled out a chair opposite of you at your table.

“The library’s plenty large, Lupin; I’m sure if you looked harder you could find another table.” you offered, hoping for indignation but landing somewhere around disheartened.

“Is Sirius alright?” He murmured quietly, and you forced your eyes up to meet his.

He looked dead tired; his eyes were sunken and his skin was missing its warm glow. But in his eyes laid an earnestness that had you remembering just how wholly safe and full you felt whenever you found yourself pinned beneath his gaze.

You quickly looked away.

“Not really.” You replied honestly. “But I think he deserves that.”

Remus made a noncommittal sound as he continued staring at the top of your head; you couldn’t see it, mind you, but you could certainly feel it.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” You demanded, and Remus finally looked down into his lap.

You stared at him as he wrung his hands in his lap while you catalogued the scars across his face. You wondered if where they landed over his eyes caused him any vision issues. You wondered what the ones over the bridge of his nose would feel like as you traced your fingertip over them. You wondered what the ones on his lips might feel like under your own.

You hated them, knowing that he did too, knowing how he came to have them. But you loved them because they were his, because it was him. Because you loved him.

“Are you alright?” You decided to ask then, and he looked up at you as if he was surprised you were still there.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, though you knew not what for. You really hadn’t done anything.

“How-” Remus started, though he quickly looked back down at his hands as he searched for the words.

You waited for him.

“How…can you help him?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow, because whatever you thought Remus might’ve been about to ask, it certainly wasn’t that.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“How can you help Sirius? After all that he’s done?” He continued gently.

“I… because, Remus, someone has to.”

Remus nodded as he considered your response. “There’s a… part of me that feels as though you’re choosing him over me.”

“Remus. You chose; you made that decision for me. I didn’t choose anyone’s side.”

“So if we were still dating right now, would you have forgiven Sirius?”

“Forgiven?” You repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about forgiveness?”

Remus simply blinked at you owlishly.

“Remus, I cannot just sit here and let him whither away into nothing because I’m mad at him. He fucked up - big time - there’s no question about it. And deep down, I know he knows that too; that’s why he’s been torturing himself over it. There is no way in which I could treat him that would be worse than the way he’s treating himself right now. But I-”

You shook your head as you fought off the stinging in your sinuses; you did not want to cry in front of him.

“There is no one rooting for us, Remus. No one. You’re pissed at him - rightfully so, and completely justified - Potter and Pettigrew are pissed at him too, he’s pissed at himself and I… someone has to, Remus. Someone has to root for him, I can’t…I can’t just abandon him, not when there’s no one else.”

“I can’t… I can’t feel bad for him, Y/N.” Remus exclaimed helplessly.

“I’m not asking you to; I’m simply telling you why I do.”

“I don’t…I don’t know how to forgive him, dove, I don’t know how to not hate him for this.” He nearly sobbed, holding his hands out helplessly as if the grief and torment were tangible things he could crush in the palm of his hands if he could only catch them. “Why don’t you hate him? Please tell me? Because I genuinely want to know. I need to know - I don’t…I don’t want to hate him.”

“He’s my brother, Rem.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “I hate what he’s done, I hate the choice he made, I hate the outcome of that choice, I hate what he did to you, I hate what that’s done to me, but… but I don’t hate him.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while; the only sounds coming from the odd book being magically sent back to its shelf and the odd voices from students downstairs when a study group got a touch too boisterous.

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered then; your eyes flit up to meet his which were already steady on you.

“No, Remus.” You whispered back.

He nodded as his gaze fell. “Just what I did?”

Your lip quirked in the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Yes I…I sort of hated that, I suppose.”

“I don’t want to hate him.” He repeated.

“I know.”

“Do you-” Remus paused, turning away and screwing his eyes shut as you realised he was crying. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“Remus…”

“I was scared, and hurt, and angry, and-” he hiccuped, reaching across the table as he nearly begged for your hand. You gave it willingly. “-and I hated him but I mostly hated myself.”

“I know, Rem.”

“Please? Do you…do you think you’d be able to forgive me? For leaving, for running, for abandoning you? You’ve never once given up on the people important to you and one bad thing happens to me and…and I just throw you away, I-” He looked at you as if he was only realising all of this now; hurt, frustration, anger, and betrayal all on your behalf flickered behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus.” You insisted, but he quickly shook his head at you.

“It’s not; it’s not okay, I- … I’m not as gracious as you, clearly, but I just…I just feel like if you’re strong enough to forgive me then there’s…there’s hope for me, too. That maybe I can be strong enough to forgive Sirius.”

“You’re forgiven, Remus.”

His eyes fell shut as more tears fell, but you were sure it was more from relief than it was from pain.

Both boys - Remus and Sirius - were so good at torturing themselves over choices they’ve made that you were certain no one else would ever have to as long as they both should live.

And for different reasons, you loved them both beyond measure.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Remus whispered.

“Of course you do.” You countered, squeezing his hand in yours and watching as some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

“Does Sirius?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes pointed at where your joined hands sat on the table between you.

You’re not sure when or how you became the leading expert on conflict resolution and forgiveness; perhaps it was in refereeing Sirius and Regulus’ petty squabbles growing up, perhaps it was in shielding Regulus from your parents fury, perhaps it was in trying to tame Sirius enough to keep him out of trouble, perhaps it was in being the youngest cousin along with Regulus and watching the siblings before you find their own ways to define what was right and good, perhaps…perhaps it came from the many examples of conflict and spite that you had witnessed growing up.

“I don’t know, Rem.” You answered honestly. “I think…I think the only one who can really know that is you.”

If he was displeased by your answer, he didn’t show it.

“But,” you continued cautiously, “I don’t think you have to forgive him for what he’s done. You just have to decide whether you’re going to hate him for it or love him in spite of it.”

His lips pursed, pulling at scars both new and old in ways you’re not sure you’d ever grow tired of watching, as he nodded. “I don’t want to hate him.”

“I know, Rem.”

“I don’t want James or Peter to hate him either…I don’t know why they were willing to watch him wither away like that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at that; the first real smile you’d had since That Night. “They don’t, and they weren’t.” You countered, only moving to explain when he looked at you in bemusement. “They were the ones who told me how bad he was getting…they wanted to make sure someone was looking after him without giving into his pity party.”

“Always taking care of everyone else, hm?” Remus murmured at you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles.

You simply hummed noncommittally.

“Can I return the favour?”

“You can certainly try, but I’m quite high maintenance.” You teased gently.

“That’s alright.” He agreed quickly. “You’re more than worth the effort.”

You breathed out a quiet laugh through your nose. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

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strwberri-milk · 15 hours

Note

I heard the raphael tipsy audio (omg he’s so sweet and attached) and now I cant hep but wonder how all the guys would react to MC going on a long mission.

Zayne doesn't mope - or at least that's what everyone thinks when they see how he goes about his day normally regardless of the fact that you aren't currently home with him. He's perfectly professional at work - almost too professional. In actuality he's trying not to let the fact that you won't be there to welcome him home bother him too much.

When he goes home he finds himself more distracted than usual. He watches the clock until it's time for you to call him, noticeably calmer during the call. He doesn't want to talk about his day at all - he just wants to listen to your voice talking at him for as long as possible. He manages to trick you into speaking about your day the entire call, looking at you with such an affectionate gaze you can't help but melt under it.

He counts down the days until you come back, planning a nice quiet evening for the two of you to celebrate a job well done for when you finally come back to him.

Xavier tried to get assigned to the same mission as you in hopes that the two of you could spend the entire time together. When he failed to make that happen he pouted a little as you packed for the mission, trying to convince you to call out or do something that would let you stay home with him.

He's even more quiet at work, finding that there's not too much that catches his attention if it's not you. He makes conversation with the others at least but he doesn't seem to be all there. Everyone knows exactly why that is but they choose not to tease him because it's like kicking a dog while it's down.

He plans little online game dates for you two to do while you're working. Even if it's just card games and he has to hold up your hand to you he's more than happy to do so because he wants to spend time with you doing anything.

When you come back he's definitely a little clingier, not wanting you to go anywhere without him in a subtle manner. You can tease him all you want but he won't admit it, just saying that he's allowed to miss you since you were gone for so long.

Rafayel isn't very happy you have to go but he understands that you have to. He will complain a little despite also packing your bag for you, asking you to text him or call him - preferably video calls - whenever you can so he can see your cute little face. He doesn't want you to forget about him after all.

He's significantly more prone to getting frustrated or totally zoning out. His art always somehow comes back to you or he just sits there thinking about you in his downtime until it's time for you to call him. He immediately brightens up and is in a significantly better mood when he can talk to you again, happily working if you're there on the call.

When you finally get back he insists on making back all the missed cuddles he can. He has to make up for lost time and totally insists on doing so by keeping you in bed all day with his face buried in your chest.

Sylus asks if it's really necessary for you to be gone for so long. You have to remind him it's part of your job and he casually tells you that Mephisto will be tagging along for your safety. You know it's partially that, partially because he likes the idea of being able to see you whenever he wants. You also know there's no point in saying no to him and it'd help with his peace of mind so you agree anyway.

He doesn't obsessively check Mephisto's camera, surprisingly. He doesn't want to accidentally scare you off despite knowing that his every thought centers you. He finds himself missing you more than he thought he ever would, attributing it to the fact that now that he's had you he doesn't want to go back to what it was like without you.

When you finally come home to him he's made sure to have your favourite meal and some presents as your homecoming. The calls the two of you had were all poor replacements for your presence and he makes it known with how he laments it to you, telling you that he won't be letting you out of his sight any time soon.

#love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads xavier x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lads sylus x reader #lnds zayne x reader #lnds xavier x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lnds sylus x reader

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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 days

Text

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous.

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded.

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly.

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket.

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself.

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom.

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed.

You didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support.

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down.

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company.

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder.

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice.

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious.

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms.

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense.

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?”

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.”

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him.

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything, he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.”

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment.

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission.

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close.

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him.

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding.

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault.

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional.

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

#rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #angst #Rafe cameron angst #obx smut #smut #June gloom #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe

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winchester-with-wings · 1 day

Text

Training Room Tension (Wolverine x f!Reader, smut)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader

Summary: Training is just another form of foreplay between you and Logan. That's why no one trains with you guys anymore. It's just awkward.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut with a hint of sappy love and security at the end, dirty talk, taunting, unprotected sex, biting, spanking, rough sex, Rest In Piece(s) to your undergarments hehe, takes place in the X-Mansion, reader is some type of invulnerable mutant like Logan.

Word count: 2400

Author's Note: First time writing in forever! Praise be to "Deadpool & Wolverine" for bringing back my love and lust for Hugh Jackman. Wolverine in particular is one of my first loves. Shout out to by Bitchachos for reassuring me this obsession was okay. Love you guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to @pagesofivy for the title suggestion! I'm picturing older, thicker Logan from the 70s cuz of that mirror scene iykyk. But also love these XMen gifs. Ah hell I can't pick a favorite. He has aged sooooo well.

Hope people enjoy this and please don't be afraid to let me know! Words of Affirmation is my love language. LOL

I made a wolverine sideblog too because I want to reblog everything Logan and D&W related hehe ----> @feral4wolverine

Mobile Masterlist

The team rarely trains with you and Logan in the same room anymore. For a good reason too. Sure, in short exercises, they can manage you guys. You're both part of the team after all, but the longer training scenarios, they'll make do without. They just know their feral, indestructible teammates will do their part in the real world fights.

Because as much as Logan admires your strength and determination...he also cannot stand it. You're stubborn. You're defiant. You're a tease and he can't take it anymore.

“You’re slowing down, babe, and pulling your punches,” you tease, dodging his swing and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with a loud thud. He rolls over, grabbing your ankle before you can get back up. He drags you along the mats as he stands. “Ah, nonono!” you laugh, your arms waving and trying to get a grip on the floor. You get your other foot under you and turn yourself over trying to kick or hook your leg around his neck to take him down.

It doesn’t work this time but at least he lets go of your foot. Back on even ground, you’re swapping blows, punches, and blocks. You curse almost as much as he grunts.

"Run that pretty little mouth one more time," he growls, his arms interlocked with yours as he blocks your attack again.

"Or what, old man?" You push back, breaking his hold, your skin is slick with sweat and it gives you an advantage over Logan…in more ways than one. You’re slippery and fast and his reaction time is slower as his gaze lingers on every inch of exposed, glistening skin.

He pounces and were he not already so close, you would have been able to dodge him. Your feet don't have a chance to gain traction though as you scramble to get away. He swiftly grabs you by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder.

The action is fast enough that it steals your breath away. You're kicking and protesting as he carries you out of the gym. All the tech and weaponry in the Danger Room have borne the brunt of Logan's claws too many times, so the two of you have been banished to the school's gymnasium. Logan takes two stairs at a time as he carries you off in the direction of your shared room. It’s far from the student’s quarters and the walls are soundproof from back when Logan’s nightmares were more frequent. They’re all but gone since you maneuvered yourself into his life.

(It’s technically still his room only, but he was never going to ask you to move in, so you’ve just started sneaking things in and leaving items behind until it was obvious. You know he’s noticed and cleared space for your abandoned items in his dresser, closet, and bathroom. He’s just too stubborn to admit defeat. And you’re happy to spare his ego and let him be the one to finally mention it.)

If anyone in the mansion hears your grumbling and cursing, they tune you out–already accustomed to you and Logan bickering. Your protests die in your throat as you take a sharp intake of air when he smacks your ass, his large hand definitely leaving a stinging mark. If it's not already red, he may spank you one or two more times...especially if you mouth off.

Once in his room, he tosses you onto his bed but you bounce back up and try to shove past him, a half-assed attempt to keep playing cat and mouse, to make him chase you some more. He hooks you around the waist and throws you back on the bed, this time bearing down on top of you. His body is strong, solid, and heavy with adamantium as he pins you down, his chest vibrating with a growl.

"No more talking."

"Oh baby, that's not how I fuck," you moan and hook one of your legs around his waist. One hand grabs his ass, giving you leverage to grind against him.

"Such a filthy mouth," he snarls, his teeth grazing your jaw before he nips at your ear. His facial hair scratches at your skin, raising goosebumps along your flesh. Your nipples tighten and ache, desperate for his mouth.

"You love it."

His chest vibrates with another deep growl just before he claims your mouth, your lips smashing together hard enough that your teeth make contact, and your lips get caught in the crossfire. There's a brief taste of iron but whomever it belongs to heals quickly, the sting relieved as his tongue delves into your mouth.

"Can't...stand it...anymore. Can't take it," he groans as he kisses you. He pulls away just to kiss and bite along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

"Poor thing, powerless to resist me?" you keen, your breath hitching as he bites your neck a little harder, his tongue soothing it a second later. You grind your hips, answering with your own moans, proud of yourself for getting a rise out of him. Your nails dig into his back, definitely tearing at his shirt. He pulls his head back and hisses as the sensation rides the border between pain and pleasure. He reaches for you, his hands shackling your wrists and pinning your arms by your head.

"Be a good girl for once and don't move," he commands you, releasing your hands so that he can take off his shirt and rip off his belt. He yanks your pants down, getting increasingly agitated as he struggles with the fabric. With your shirt, he pulls it up until it bunches around your wrists, effectively shackling you. As for your sports bra and underwear…

"Nonono!"

SNIKT!

"Sonuvabitch!" you curse as he cuts the fabric with one of his claws. He just chuckles. He's slowed down just for a moment to drag a single claw down the middle of your sports bra, along the line of your cleavage. Your breasts spill out as he cuts the straps next. Your breasts are bared to him and he lavishes them with the attention you crave. You no longer keep your hands above your head as you card your fingers through his thick hair, pulling on it as you arch your back and press your breasts further into his hands and mouth. He bites at your supple flesh as his fingers knead your nipples into aching peaks. A mewling whimper escapes your lips as you roll your hips against him some more but his jeans are still on.

"Are you gonna fuck me, or do I need to get myself off?" you challenge him while biting your bottom lip. His answer comes after he slides a hand down your body and rubs your pussy through your soaked underwear.

"Nobody makes you come but me, sweetheart," he says gruffly, his own arousal evident in his voice before he kisses you again, deeply, passionately, possessive. He steals your breath away and when he lets you up for air you gasp, your chest heaving as he's pinned your breasts between you. You love the feeling of his chest hair against your skin.

"Then prove it…Bub," you gasp, surprising yourself and giggling at the use of the nickname. He shakes his head with amusement, only slightly cringing at your joke.

The next thing you know, he's sitting up, unzipping his jeans and ripping your underwear off without the use of his claws. (You don't wear your nicer panties when sparring with Logan is on the schedule.) The sports bra, you'd thought you could save. His dick is straining against his boxer briefs but you hardly get a glimpse of his perfectly thick cock before he's pushing inside you.

Normally, you like it when he fingers you first. When he stretches you out with two or three fingers while he tongues and sucks on your clit. You lament the opportunity for beard burn on your inner thighs but you’ll make up for that some other time. For now you’re just as desperate for him, as he is for you.

"Mmm fuck," he growls as he bottoms out. "So fucking tight. So wet. Love the scent of you on my sheets." He hunches forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck. He bites and sucks a mark into your skin. It'll heal, but at least the two of you will know it was there. You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling on it, your nails scraping his scalp. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles in the small of his back.

"Yes, Logan, yes baby fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come," you urge him on, trying to roll your hips to match his rapid rhythm, but you can't keep up. The sensations are intense and overwhelming, until you've lost the strength in your arms and you just let yourself go. You submit to him in every way, allowing yourself to be used for his pleasure just as you know your pleasure is his. "Fuck, Logan, I'm so close…" you moan.

Your body is languid, liquid heat beneath him, your skin scorching hot no matter where he touches you. He drags his big hands down your body, starting at the base of your throat, over your heartbeat, kneading your breasts before sliding them down your stomach and grasping your hips. Changing pace to long, hard strokes, he rubs your clit with his thumb as he raises your hips off the bed. Your hips start bucking like you're trying to get away from the intensity of his thumb on your clit, but he keeps pulling you back to him, thrusting deeper as you two battle for release. You cry out, coming so hard your legs are shaking. You reach out to him and he extends one of his arms. Your fingers dig into his forearm as you hold on, feeling like you could fly off the bed, but Logan has you. He'll never let you go.

"Ohh, fuck," he groans, his mouth hanging open and his lips almost pulling back to bare his teeth like an animal. His eyes roll back as he nearly loses himself to the feeling of your orgasm, the pulsing sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight. You keep rolling your body, pushing and pulling with your grip on his arm, drawing out your climax. His fingers dig into your hips. He finally bares his teeth, growling, his face twisting into a feral snarl. "Fuck, baby."

He pulls out suddenly and you cry, mourning the loss of being full. But then he flips you over, fast enough to elicit a startled giggle. His smug chuckle is lost as you end up face down on the bed. You're about to get up to your hands and knees when Logan slams back into you, going deeper from this position. You moan into his pillow, noting his own unique smell of leather, cigars, and pine. His hand holds onto your shoulder for leverage as he starts piston his hips at a rapid pace, fucking into you from behind, pressing you into the mattress.

“Don’t stop. Keep going,” you urge him on, knowing that the moment it’s too much for you, if you say stop, he will. “Oh my god, fu--I'm gonna come again," you whimper. He lets out a rugged laugh and spanks your ass...once, twice, and then rubbing your skin to soothe the red marks before he grabs your ass to help you push back and ride his dick.

"Yesss," he hisses, "Yeah sweetheart, let it go, come again. I've got you," he grunts, the words oddly sweet in contrast to the pounding you're getting.

Your next orgasm is matched by his. You can't see him behind you but you know what it looks like when Logan comes. You love the way his nose scrunches up, his head falls back and then rolls to the side like he's about to crack his neck. Then he shakes head like he's clearing his head from the fog of mind-blowing sex. His body shudders, all of his muscles are tense, flexed, rock hard. If you were on your back, you'd be kissing and nipping at his broad chest as you rake your nails down his abs. For now, you can take in the sight of him by straining to look over your shoulder. His thrusts stutter to a complete stop as he fills you up.

"Yes, baby…yes, feels so good," you pant, praising him. The corner of his mouth turns up in a proud smirk. He takes a few deep breaths and slides his hand up and down your spine. You fully sink into the mattress, boneless and spent, and he leans over you, propping most of his weight on his arms beside you.

Your breathing synchronizes as you lay there together. He peppers your shoulders with open mouth kisses and gently nips at the curve of your neck as you expose it.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs softly in your ear.

"Mmm, yes," you answer, "always." Your eyes are closed as you focus on the remnants of pleasure coursing through your body. You press your ass against him, earning yourself a few more lazy, taunting thrusts from him. He pulls out, his dick still hard and throbbing with a stamina unmatched by your own. You clench your legs shut, determined to keep his seed inside you, as you both love a messy round two. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him until you're on your back and looking up at him.

"You drive me crazy, baby girl," he grumbles…with obvious affection as he nuzzles you and then softly kisses you.

"You love it," you defend yourself playfully.

"Mmmhmm," he growls his agreement before kissing you again, one hand slowly exploring the planes of your body once more. He loves it when you play hard to get. He loves it when you talk back and antagonize him. He loves having a partner who keeps up with him and then still kicks his ass in training. He loves it when you challenge his lone wolf act. He loves it all, because it makes these moments happen--moments where two seemingly invincible people can come together and feel safe enough to love and be loved.

-----

It's been 2 years since I posted any fics... I hope ya'll liked this! Let me know!

p.s. made a wolverine specific sideblog: @feral4wolverine

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skyahri · 2 days

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Unplanned |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, and Kakashi Hatake

Summary: Pregnancy scenarios 'cause I can.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy. Bad words. All fluff.

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

He isn't the kind of guy to outwardly dote on you.

He's never been good with words or physical touch, more so preferring quality time together. You sleep in the same bed, eat meals together when it's convenient, and lounge around together when time allows.

When you come home from a last minute doctor's appointment with some big news, none of that really changes.

He assures you that he's happy, that he loves you, and this is all wonderful, but that's about all you're going to get out the emotionally constipated man.

However, while words may not be his strong suit, actions certainly are.

It's become painfully obvious that you are never allowed to go anywhere alone ever again.

He's like a shadow, following you everywhere and anywhere you decide to go. It doesn't matter that you're just running to the market- he's coming with. Ino invited the girls over for a dinner party? Cool, he'll walk you there, hang around in the shadows outside, then walk you home.

When questioned, Sasuke only says that he doesn't trust other people. Already knowing how he is, you don't push him any further. (Not that he'd entertain you if you did.)

People notice pretty quickly. He's not subtle and it's not exactly common for the Uchiha to be so openly clingy.

You wanted to keep the pregnancy a secret for a little while longer. You knew that his status would make the whole thing bigger than you'd like and it was still so early, only about eight weeks in. But people were becoming more and more insistent with their questions.

"Seriously, did something happen? He's been watching you like a Hawk for the past month."

"It was cute at first, but now it's straight up creepy."

Sakura and Ino dramatically shiver at the notion. You laugh, imagining how unsettling this all must look from the outside.

"It's fine, I promise. He's just been a little overprotective since he found out I was pregnant."

They don't register it at first. They just nod in understanding and move to sip their tea. You can almost see it click in their heads before they slam down their cups and start freaking out.

"Wait, WHAT?"

Naruto Uzumaki

"Congratulations! Based on the ultrasound, I'd say you're about five weeks along. It's still early, but you can see a tiny sac right here-"

Your mind is going a thousand miles a minute, thinking of everything and nothing as the doctor points out the tiny, centimeter-long blob in the picture.

Naruto had been bugging you for the past three weeks about a smell. He swears it's nothing bad, just that Kurama is insisting that your scent has changed and- blah, blah, blah. You never could get any more information out of him, which just left you to eventually cave and visit the doctor. Animals have instincts for a reason and who were you to ignore them?

Turns out, that damn fox was right.

After a half-hour lecture on what you can and can't do anymore, you were handed a goodie bag of essentials and sent on your way.

You barely remember the walk home. Your mind was completely blank as it tried to process the news. It wasn't until Naruto was standing in front of you in the doorway to your home that you finally snapped out of the trance.

You stared up at him. His eyebrows were knit together and he was asking if everything was alright. He pulled everything out of your hands and not-so-gently set them on the floor.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes blew wide and not even a second later he was smiling, pulling you into him and spinning you around. It's over just as quickly as it started. He's setting you back down on your feet and looking you over, mumbling a few hollow apologies for manhandling you. He takes a deep breath, that lopsided grin on his face never leaving.

"You're pregnant."

Just those two words have all the fog clearing from your head. Reality is forced onto you in an instant. In any other situation, it might have made you dizzy, but right now you couldn't be happier.

"I'm pregnant."

Shikamaru Nara

He really should've seen this coming.

Honestly, with how careless he is with protection, it's a wonder how you hadn't gotten pregnant sooner. A year and some change of not bothering with condoms and lazy, half-assed pullouts had finally come to bite him in the ass.

Although he knows this is all going to be horrifically bothersome, he can't find it in himself to be all that bothered. No, not when you're standing in front of him so nervously, little tears gathering on your waterline as you hold out a slip of paper for him to take.

He pulls you into a hug- a very tight, very intimate hug. One of his hands is on your lower back, pressing you into him, and the other is in your hair to cup the back of your head. He can feel the stress start to melt from your body as you relax into him, your arms moving to loosely hold him back.

"I'm sorry. I know this wasn't exactly planned..."

It definitely wasn't planned. He didn't like to think about things too hard. The only talk about the future he'd engaged in was a brief confirmation that you were both interested in pursuing each other exclusively and that neither were against marriage and kids.

But even though this was sudden and unprompted and definitely not what he was expecting when you asked to talk with him privately, he just couldn't find it in himself to be anything other than pleased. Sure, he would've liked to wait a few years and it preferably be after he'd properly proposed and married you, but none of that is deterring him.

He loved you. He didn't say it as often as he probably should, but that didn't make it any less true. You were easygoing and passive and fit into his life with no resistance. His friends liked you, possibly more than they did him. You liked to cook and he never had to worry about you causing trouble.

This was fine.

Not troublesome in the least.

"No, this is... good."

Kakashi Hatake

He was positive he was sterile. He'd have to be after all the injuries and trauma he's sustained, right? Four years and not a single scare, yet here you were, apparently three months pregnant, handing him a report from the OB's office.

He couldn't even form a sentence. He just sighed and sat back onto the couch with his eyes closed. It's only eight in the morning, it's too early for this, not that there'd ever be a great time.

"I knew you weren't going to be thrilled, but now I'm starting to get nervous. Can you please say something?"

He held his arm up and gestured for you to come towards him. When he could feel you brush against him, he grabbed your wrist and carefully yanked you onto his lap. You let out a relieved, albeit hesitant, chuckle as he slowly wrapped himself around you, his head finding solace in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a little while until he let out the loudest, most dramatic groan you'd ever heard leave his mouth, followed by a mumbled 'are you sure?', to which you rolled your eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure. Here, you can see for yourself."

You unfold the paper and pulled out a few pictures. He shifts you around so you're at a better angle before he takes them into his hands. It's obvious that he has no idea what he's looking at- just that the blob is already baby-shaped and very, very intimidating.

You point out some of the obvious things, the head and feet and such, before moving down to the very last photo at the bottom.

"And that little spot right there means that we're having a boy."

"I thought they couldn't tell the gender until later."

"It is later, Kashi. Fourteen weeks."

He lets you take the pictures from him so he can set his hand on your stomach. You'd mentioned gaining a little weight recently, which he honestly hadn't noticed, but now he's wondering how he could've missed it as he brushes his fingers over the slightest most obvious bump in your usually flat stomach.

He must've been zoned out for too long, because you're calling his name and setting your hand over his. He hums, a slight acknowledgment that he's heard you, but you know he's not actually listening.

He's too busy thinking about diapers and bottles and late nights and early mornings. How his son is going to be in the same class as his student's kids. How Gai is going to be a hundred times more annoying in the coming years.

But then a single thought completely derails his spiraling. He wonders what your baby will look like. If he'll be a morning person like you or like to take naps like him. If they'll accel in genjutsu or not, because while he certainly does, you most certainly don't.

He's spent time with Kurenai and Mirai. While raising a person definitely seemed difficult, he couldn't deny that Kurenai was happy. Actually, despite Asuma's untimely death, she's the happiest he'd ever seen her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just... thinking about how annoying it'll be to tell everyone we're expecting."

"Seemed more like panicking to me."

"... shut up."

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lulunothulu · 14 hours

Note

Loovveee your writing. 😍 Would you be able to write where reader and Tyler are married and he’s out running errands when he gets notified from her Apple Watch that she’s taken a hard fall because she was thrown from a horse and 911 was called so he drives as quick as he can home to her driving through their gate trying to get to her faster and she’s unconscious and bleeding from a cut on her head and just worried husband vibes until she wakes up and is fine 💙

Oooo I love this. I gotchu boo 🤠 and thank youuuu I’m so sorry this is late 💗

“Don’t worry”

Tyler Owens x Reader

“Let me check the list because if I miss something, my wife is gonna have a fit.” Tyler laughs, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket.

He’d been tasked by you with getting groceries and knew you were particular about what kind of apples you liked.

When he finally pulls the list out, he hands it to the worker before him who smiles and points him to the section where the honey crisp apples are.

“Thank you!” He calls out, steering the buggy toward the section and grabbing a plastic bag to collect the four apples you wanted.

He’s about to put the last apple in the bag when he gets a notification from your AppleWatch.

‘My Wife 💗’ has fallen and their breathing has slowed down significantly. 9-1-1 has been called and they are 10 minutes out.

Tyler’s heart stops.

Within seconds, his legs are moving, sprinting out of the store the buggy full of groceries left behind.

He’ll come back another time. Right now, he had to get to his wife. He had to get to you.

He knew he was only five minutes away, but he let his foot hit the accelerator. Anything to get to you quicker.

When he finally—painstakingly—arrives at y’all’s house, your horse, Sugar, is galloping around the front yard, neighing happily to herself. He reaches for her, gently pulling her close.

“Where is she?” He asks her. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he jogs to the training ring to the right of the house where he finds your lifeless body.

He sprints at the sight of you, fear taking over all of his thoughts and he brushes the random strands of hair covering your face.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “Oh my god. Baby? Can you hear me?”

He checks your pulse.

Good, steady but kind of weak.

Your breathing is slow, almost too slow for his taste. Your face is relaxed in unconsciousness and there’s a pretty bad gash on your forehead and the back of your head.

Tyler knows not to move you so he holds your hand, waiting and praying that the ambulance hurries.

The next five minutes feel like hours but the paramedics finally arrive.

“I think she fell and hit her head on the ground or a rock,” Tyler tells them.

He watches from the side as they take your vitals and get you ready to transfer to the ER.

“Do you want to ride with her?” One of the paramedics asks.

“No, I’ll follow behind in my truck,” he tells them.

———

At the hospital, Tyler looks down at you from his standing position next to your bed.

How could this have happened? When is she gonna wake up?

He rubs his eyes, checking his watch again to see that it’s almost 10 PM. he’s been here for the past few hours, waiting for you to wake up.

Unfortunately, for him, the doctor said that it might take a bit for you to wake up, especially because of the fall you took.

“She’ll wake up when she’s ready,” they said.

“When?” He’d asked.

“Within a few hours. She has a concussion so she needs to rest as much as she can.”

The waiting was the hardest part for him. He hated just standing around. He needed to do something, anything to make sure you were okay, to help you wake up. Worry begins to eat at him the longer he stays in the hospital room with you so Tyler decided it would be best to go to the cafeteria.

Only when he’s about to walk out the door, he hears you groan.

“Tyler?”

“Baby,” he cries, running back to your side. He takes your hand in his, kissing each knuckles before smiling down at you with happy tears stuck in his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah,” he tells you, wiping his eyes. “What happened?”

“I was trying to give Sugar a little test run before the next race and she got spooked by a garden snake,” you recount. “I must’ve hit my head on a rock or something.”

“You did,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You look up into his green eyes and smile softly. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him down to kiss you.

The kiss is sweet and tender, something Tyler didn’t know he knew he needed until then.

“I love you, Ty,” you tell him.

“I love you too, Baby,” he hiccups, tears freely falling now. “You really did scare me. I didn’t know if you would be okay. If you’d d—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Instead, he smiles down at you and kisses you again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says instead.

“I am too,” you tell him. Then, smirking a bit, you add, “I would be pretty pissed if I died from falling off a horse.”

Tyler laughs at that. “I would be too.”

“When can I eat? And when can I leave?” You ask. “But most importantly, when can I eat?”

“Doctors said he wanted to keep you overnight,” he tells you. “I can get you something to eat if you want.”

“Okay, as long as it’s something filling. I have t eaten since… what time is it?”

“10:30 PM,” he tells you.

“Jesus Christ, since 8 AM this morning,” you marvel.

Tyler laughs, pecking your lips before standing. “I’ll get you a nice fat sandwich.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You watch as he walks away before saying, “And Tyler?”

He turns around. “Yes baby?”

“Walk slower, your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

Tyler only laughs and obeys as he walks out the door.

#glen powell #fanfic #tyler owens #tyler owens headcanon #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens oneshot #tyler owens x reader #twisters 2024 #twisters #lulu's requests mail

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overtake · 1 day

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Trying to do something resembling coping after Singapore. Have some Max/Daniel hurt/comfort (1.3k). Also on ao3 if you prefer.

The press of a button freezes Max’s watery blue eyes, the space between them bifurcated by the crease in his forehead.

“Is now really a moment to remember?” Max asks in a raspy voice. His throat isn’t clogged by tears, but there’s almost a decades worth of race starts together sitting uncomfortably in there and congesting each word.

His hand hasn’t strayed from Daniel since he found him after the race. It’s somewhere on some part of him every time he’s close enough to touch.

Normally he’s halfway home by this point, Air Max somewhere over the circuit skies and headed back toward home.

He’s stayed, this time, in case this is it. In case this is his last chance to neatly fold Daniel’s clothes into his bag, even though his own are always wrinkled under pairs of stained shoes and dirty briefs. In case this is the last time they both exit the paddock as drivers. In case this is the final chance Max has to trace the shape of Daniel’s jawline and tell him, “Good race.”

Daniel’s mum is giving them a last minute alone. She’s standing guarding outside the door and leaving them be for now. Daniel knows, though, that when they stand, she’ll hug Daniel close, wishing he was little enough to hide in the crook of her neck while she covers all his gaping wounds with plasters and a kiss on each one to ease the ache.

Despite his complaints about the camera, Max still moves from where he’s crouched in front of Daniel to collapse into his side and observe the photo. He wraps one arm around Daniel’s back to tug him impossibly closer and rests his mouth on the top of Daniel’s shoulder in an exhausted kind of kiss.

“I look like shit,” he says, statement muffled by the fabric of Daniel’s shirt. He sounds like he wants to poke fun at himself until he makes Daniel laugh, but they’re both too hollowed out to muster up the energy. Instead, Max reaches out and turns off the display.

For a second, their fingers linger together on the camera’s body, until Daniel lets the camera drop back against his chest so he can entangle their hands instead.

“It’s not a nice memory,” Daniel agrees. Unlike Max, his voice right now can all be attributed to tears. “But in December, no matter what happens after today, I’ll get a retake on the farm. I’ll be happy, and we’ll be together, and life will go on from now.”

Daniel feels the dampness on his shoulder when a single tear breaks containment, then another, and a shuddering breath, until Max rights himself and pointedly looks away from the tiny patch soaked in cotton.

“It’s not fair,” he says tightly. For a second, he sounds every bit the bullish teenager with a black and white view on the way the world ought to work and bitter frustration that sometimes reality dapples in nuance. It’s the first thing to get Daniel anywhere within city limits of smiling since he set the lap record and gave himself a final moment in the car to reflect on everything this sport had given him, and that he had given this sport.

“Yeah,” he agrees hoarsely. “It’s not fucking fair.”

He’s done with excuses and niceties and dancing on the Red Bull puppet strings in hopes that playing their game might finally net him a seat he’d killed himself to earn. It’s not fair. It’s callous and cruel, the way they’ve strung him and everyone who loves him along for a race they aren’t even brave enough to tell him is his last.

They’re silent for another moment. Daniel closes his eyes and soaks it in: the tendrils of freshly washed hair still trailing water down his spine. The din of dog-tired employees breaking down the paddock, to be quickly vanished away as if it was never here. The ragged in-and-out of Max’s lungs as he tries to coax both of their breaths into something resembling normal.

“Thank you, by the way,” Max says softly. “And congratulations on your lap record.”

“You owe me a really nice Christmas present.”

Max presses a whisper of a kiss over Daniel’s drying curls. “You always deserve the nicest presents.”

Daniel’s mum slips in then, gently shutting the door behind her. Unlike Max, she’s made no secret of her tears. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she musters up enough of a smile when Daniel heaves himself up into her arms.

“Come here, Max,” he hears his mum scold. A second later, Max is in an awkward three-person hug. Grace’s short arms struggle to embrace them both, but smelling her vanilla perfume and knowing she’s there is enough to surround him in all the ways that matter.

She whispers in turn to each of them, but they’re all so tightly wound, they can all hear every word.

“Thank you for being here every time I couldn’t be,” she tells Max. He murmurs something back, but he manages to keep it quiet enough that Daniel can’t make out all his words. It’s something about thanking her for trusting him with Daniel, but the rest is lost. All he knows is that his mum’s tears start flowing again.

When it’s his turn, she can barely choke out the words. “I’m so proud of you. For your career, of course, but for who you’ve grown into. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I love you,” is all Daniel manages. He buries the nose shaped like hers into the brown curls that his genes copy-pasted and soaks in gratitude that he has both her face and her endless capacity to love.

Daniel walks into humid night air with his head held high and a career most drivers would kill for, surrounded by people who love him for more than that list of achievements, and knows that he’ll survive whatever comes next.

“That’s a terrible photo,” Max complains three months later. His eyes are scrunched up all cute in it, framed by long lashes and sun-soaked freckles that are almost hidden by the streaks of dirt on his face. He’s smiling, both in the picture and right now, so Daniel knows he doesn’t actually mind.

Two weeks of busy Australian summer have left Max various shades of pink and tan. He'd somewhat learned how to use the grill that Daniel was too scared to touch and now had matching grill aprons with Daniel's dad. He christened the new baby cow the wholly uncreative name ‘Lilly’, because god forbid any animal in his vicinity not be named after Monaco nightlife. He’d also 100% taken to the dirt bikes as easily as everyone would assume and had absolutely, definitely not sworn Daniel to secrecy about where he got that giant bruise on his side after their first go.

When Daniel transfers the photos to his computer later, his finger pauses on the photo captured in a melancholic driver’s room. In it, Max’s eyes are dull and weary, but they’re looking at Daniel with the same unblinking love from today’s picture.

It’s proof, memorialized in expensive pixels, that Daniel’s life did not end on the streets of Singapore; that his worth to the world never depended on his points or podiums.

He closes the lid of his laptop and joins the gathering in the living room. Max is pouring fake tea for Isabella’s dolls. Isaac is politely sipping an empty teacup, one pinky in the air. Isabella is nowhere to be found, probably busy dragging Daniel’s poor parents to see Lilly the cow for the fifth time today.

“Daniel!” Max says, in the sweet, distinct way his mouth always forms the name. His face brightens when Daniel walks in. When Max smiles like that, it’s as if the sun has come through the roof and taken human form in broad shoulders and rumpled t-shirts.

“Max!” Daniel says back, matching his enthusiastic tone. He sits cross-legged in Isabella’s empty spot and slides his fingers between Max’s.

The tea party continues, and life moves forward.

#maxiel #fics #i’m a total inconsolable wreck today. so tried to write something with an air of hope and love and positive outlooks #not necessarily hopeful re racing #but its not about that #i actually cannot read or see anything about this so you're a braver soul than me if you actually read this #i feel like most of us are just sad and avoidant right now #but i'm posting this for myself bc it was cathartic to write

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sixpennydame · 1 day

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Captain Levi had never planned to fall in love with you, the pregnant widow of a Survey Corps member.

Your husband wasn’t part of his squad, but he’d seen him fall, just seconds too late from being able to save him. He’d found a letter to you in his pocket and delivered it to you in person; it was the least he could do, he thought. You were gracious and thankful to have this last message from your sweetheart but Levi saw the depth of sadness in your eyes, and something else simmering just below the surface.

“I’m pregnant,” you confess. “Three months.”

“Do you have family to go back to?” he asked.

“I have no one.”

And that’s how Levi found himself visiting your house whenever he came into Trost. It was late fall, so the Corps was on hold from any expeditions, and after he picked up his usual cleaning supplies, he’d find himself picking up some things for you and bringing it by.

“There’s some tea there that is supposed to be good for morning sickness,” he says as he hands you a bag of groceries, “and some of my officer’s rations of red meat. I heard that’s good for a growing baby.”

“You’re too kind, Captain. You don’t have to do all this for me.”

You were right, he didn’t, but he couldn’t help worrying about you, a soon-to-be mother, raising a child on her own.

A month turned into two, then three, your belly growing rounder, your features becoming even softer. There was a glow about you he couldn’t describe, almost angelic.

His monthly visits had become weekly; you would cook him dinner and he’d stay until the fire in the hearth was embers, and your eyelids became heavy.

But this time, as he stood up to leave, you took his arm.

“Captain…could you stay? Just for tonight.”

He knows he shouldn’t. You’re still grieving and probably just lonely. But he can’t deny the pull you have on him. You’re beautiful and kind-hearted, witty and spirited. His thoughts drift toward you so naturally now, wondering how you’re feeling, if you need anything.

If you need him.

And so he follows you to the bedroom and lays on the bed beside you, making sure to stay on his side and give you the space you need. You toss from side to side, finally lying on your back.

“The baby’s too active tonight. I feel like I’m a human punching bag,” you sigh out, then you roll over to look at Levi.

“Do you want to feel it?”

You gently take his hand and place it on your belly. For a while, he feels nothing but the pounding of his own heart, touching you in what feels to him to be so intimate.

But then there’s a little bump under his hand. Then another.

Levi’s experienced many things in his life, but never has anything brought him so much awe than those two little movements.

He spent that night with his hand on your stomach as you drifted to sleep, and decided right then and there that he would do whatever it took to keep you and that little one safe, healthy, and happy.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #Levi comfort #tw; pregnancy #soft!levi ackerman #dad!levi #Dadvi #levi x fem!reader

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lilacgaby · 2 days

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title: i'd fight the sun for you, my love

pairing: barbarian!kirishima x borrower!reader

summary: when kirishima finds you, a tiny human(?), stealing from his things, he finds that you've stolen his heart as well.

notes: ask, secret life of arriety inspired bc that movie is so cute, yandere kinda

kirishima was sunbathing out in an open field. he had just finished a long treck through the caverns of a dragon. he was finally shutting his eyes.. when he heard a scuffling noise behind him.

he turned around to see.. a small human grabbing all his jewels? a needle keeping your hair held up, a fitted red leotard and leggings encapsulated you as you stuffed thing after thing into your small bag.

at the realization you'd been caught, you'd dropped all your splendors and ran to go back to your home, a hole in the ground.

it was too late though, the barbarian was faster and caught you easily.

he looked you over, sitting you in his palm as he examined.

"do you.. understand me?"

you nodded, feeling odd under his gaze. you were taught to fear people like him, to never let a human see you, to run as fast as you could away.

this guy was making all your red flags go off. sharp teeth? jewelry? tall? he had abs?

"what are you? some kind of elf?"

"i'm a borrower! not some elf!"

"huh? okay.. ms borrower.. why were you stealing my stuff? that's really expensive you know."

"it's what we do! and you can always get more random guy."

"that's not the point-- it's the principle."

"whatever! let me go to my home!"

"what's wrong..?"

he let you down, bending down to the grass to let you scurry to your home.

he turned around, getting ready to lay back down when he heard rushed running back. you tapped on his legs, tears in your eyes.

"[name]. and there's a- a spider. can you kill it for me? it's in my house!" you wailed, clinging to his leg.

"oh. i got you [name], im eijiro, just.. hold on."

he put you on his shoulder, looking at the small hole you called home.

he set off a bit of fire into the hole, killing the spider,

but burning all your things along with it.

".. did you just incinerate all my stuff."

he rubbed the back of his neck. "oops?"

you yelled directly into his ear, making him promise to travel with you until he got back all your stuff.. plus interest.

he agreed, and so it began.

he grew infatuated you to a strange degree, you'd catch him staring at you often, always wanting you in his arms.

you'd be safe that way, he assured you.

if anything so much as made you flinch it'd get incinerated.

it progressed as your travels did, the satchel with your stuff getting bigger and bigger.

he'd make note of all the things you'd like to eat, to do, to read, he'd fill your days with stories and happy memories.

he'd make sure you slept comfortably, foraging cotton and leaves so you'd sleep on a plush bed.

he'd never make you go hungry, adding days worth of travels onto his journey just to get you your favorites.

he'd dress you now too, grabbing flowers and snipping pieces of his fabric to decorate you.

like a little doll.

but his possessive nature grew too, it started only with bugs, but it ended with creatures. other humans too, he'd even hurt one of your own kind.

but it was all for you wasn't it? don't make him feel guilty, you're just so helpless, so small.

you couldn't leave, you needed your stuff back right? you needed him.

you realized, even though you weren't in a cage, you'd been caught.

and you could never escape the barbarian, who was now planning on taking you to his home. forever.

tag: @eyeofthetiger501

#:P #lilac asks❤︎︎#kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima drabble #kirishima eijiro x reader #mha kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima fantasy au #yandere kirishima #yandere kirishima x reader

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avocado-writing · 1 day

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Saw your ask about Logan calling you daddy, and yeah, I want that 🥹 he’ll be bratty and snarky but I’ll put in him in his place until he’s begging to be touched

minors dni I stg

look. him being so pussy drunk on you all he wants to say is yes yes yes. you’ve been teasing him all day, bending over while wearing those jeans he loves, getting all up in his space and then retreating when he reaches out to touch… he’s like a feral animal by the time he gets you cornered, blood running red & hot. you can feel it, taste it when you run your tongue over the racing pulse his neck.

still though, you want a little more.

make him strip as you take off your jeans, have him lay down on the bed and watch the way his cock bobs against his happy trail. sit on his face and deny him the pleasure of properly tasting you, make him eat you out with a scrap of silk in between you both; he moans as his tongue tries to fuck up into you. poor desperate little puppy. he tries to suck your clit but can’t get good purchase so he just has to do what he can, licking along your panties but not getting to enjoy you like he wants to.

he does it until you come then you ride his face in earnest, holding his hair as your drag your cunt along him until he’s moaning when he’s allowed up for air. his fingers dig into your thighs in a way which will leave bruises. how you wish you could mark him with more than lipstick, with more than your slick in his beard. ah well. you’ll have to just leave something seared in his mind if not on his body.

when you pull away he goddamn moans, hands needily chasing after you. you tap him on your nose. you really want him to humiliate himself a little, only because you know he gets off on it, he gets off on how much control you have over him. a dog on a short leash which you love to pull. he’s putty in your hands and he’ll put himself directly in your palm to feel your grasp around him.

you shift off your underwear. he whines. the scent of you is intoxicating.

“you wanna get off, lo? hm?”

“yes. please. yes baby, fuck…”

“awww, look at you, using your nice words. you’ll do anything i say?”

“anything.”

you drop down, hands on his pectorals, mouth at his ear as you make your demand.

“call me daddy, lo.”

any other time? he’d scoff, tell you where to shove that idea. but oh he is so obsessed with the soft grip of your cunt, so tantalisingly near, dragging up and down his dripping shaft…

“daddy…”

“what was that, baby?”

“daddy!” he chokes. you grin, finally sinking down on him, and he almost comes just from being fully sheathed inside. you slowly rock your hips. his fists ball so tightly he shreds the bedsheets. all he can do is lie there as you ride him, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up in his eyes, chanting your name like a prayer.

he comes with the word “daddy” at the tip of his tongue, being kissed right out of his mouth.

you hold him tight after, carding your hands through his hair. his bravado returns and he gets a little huffy about what he was willing to say in the moment. but secretly? giving up control to you is his favourite thing, because he trusts you to look after him.

you’ll never let him down.

#Ty Saradika-graphics!!#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom #Sub!wolverine #Sub!logan howlett

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lustnhim · 3 days

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დ︎ “full.” — elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: requested / warnings: MDNI, breeding kink, p in v, no protection, talk of pregnancy, daddy used in a sexual context, repeated orgasms, fingering, innocence kink (kinda) / summary: elvis wants to breed you.

“Honey?” Elvis drawls running his hands across your hips as you stood over the sink, towering over you he rested his chin on the top of your head, nuzzling gently in your hair. You shook your head gently, a small laugh escaping your lips. He wanted something– he always did this when he did. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, sometimes he’d request what he wanted for dinner, would ask you to do his laundry, small silly things that you didn’t mind doing anyways. But something was a little different. His grip on your hips was a little tighter than usual, he was pressed much closer to you– “Yeah baby?” You responded, and Elvis moved his head down to your neck, burying himself in it, smelling your perfume, taking in as much of you as he could. “I need ya….” He said, rather quietly. Elvis' voice was needy, a tone that was both unfamiliar yet enticing. Your heart raced, unsure of what exactly he wanted, but the sensation of his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck sent shivers down your spine.”E-Elvis…what do you mean..?” You said, sitting down the last plate in the dishrack. "I wanna baby." he whispered, his voice smooth and sweet, a stark difference to what had now begun to press against your lower back, throbbing against you. Clicking your tongue you slowly turned around, your back resting against the sink. "Are you sure, Elvis? Is- Is that really what you want?" You admitted, biting your bottom lip nervously. The two of you were always careful, he made sure to pull out in time to finish either in your mouth or on your tummy– hell you were still on the pill.

Elvis tilted his head at you, his hands gripping your hips tighter. The tent in his pants was painfully obvious– “‘Course I am, Honey. I- I wanna let everyone know that you're mine…forever.” He cood, his thumbs massaging your hips. He needed this so badly. Perhaps it was irresponsible to ask on a whim, but watching you, bent over the sink, still dolled up in your apron from dinner, working away- the perfect housewife…all he needed was to see you with your belly full, your hips wider, your breasts swollen, and that perfect glow that came with it all. Heaven, he thought, or the closest thing to it. As Elvis' words sink in, your eyes widen in surprise, and your heart begins to pound even harder in your chest. The idea of having a baby with him, of carrying his child, is both terrifying and exhilarating. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you try to process his request. "Elvis..."you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I don't know what to say. I mean, I love you, and I want to make you happy, but...but a baby?" You can feel his hands tightening on your hips, and you look up into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or uncertainty. But all you see is pure love. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Okay," you say finally, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "If that's what you really want, then...then let's do it." Elvis grins at you, his eyes shining with happiness. "That's my girl," he says, his voice thick with emotion. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue moving into your mouth.As the kiss deepens, you can feel his hands roaming to your back, pulling the apron loose and allowing it to fall, his fingers tracing exploring every curve and dip of your body. He breaks the kiss long enough to start unbuttoning your dress, his fingers deftly working the small buttons until the fabric falls open. “E-Elvis? Here?” You whimper out looking up at him, your eyes wide.

Elvis's grin widens, and he lifts you onto the counter, spreading your legs slightly as he stands between them, his throbbing erection pressing against your core. "Fuck, there's no better place than right here, right now, where you belong." He whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers find the lace of your panties, hooking them and slowly pulling them down, revealing your wetness. The feeling of his gaze on you is enough to make you squirm, and the anticipation has you biting your lip. This all feels so unorthodox, but something in you just needs it to be like this. To be so primal. He moves his fingers to your clit, gently circling it, "So fuckin’ wet fa’ me..." He praises, his voice deep and husky. He slides a finger into you, your walls clenching around him instantly. “Loosen up, babydoll.” He coos, as his thumb rubs in circles on your sensitive nub. Arching your back you try to relax a bit, another finger prods your entrance as you whimper. The sensation of his calloused fingers against your smooth skin sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel your inner walls tightening around him. "Elvis...please," you beg. You need him, all of him, right now.

Elvis leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. His fingers continue to move within you, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. You can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, throbbing, straining so hard against you. Your hands move down to touch him, hoping to help him, just a little. Elvis groans, pulling away from the kiss as he unbuckles his belt. ”Touch it baby, feel it.” He growls, moving your hand onto him– “C’mon baby, feel it up.” he says as you move your hand, rubbing your palm across the tip of his cock, a small wet-spot pooling at the top. Pulling your hand away Elvis pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out before he strokes it gently. “Fuck, you ready baby? Ready fa’ me to fill you up?” He drawls, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, coating you in his pre-cum. "Gonna fuck you good." He says, his voice a low rumble. You nod, biting your lip as he lines himself up at your entrance. The head of his cock presses against you, and he pushes forward, feeling the tightness of your pussy as he enters you inch by inch. Your body is like a vice, gripping him tightly, and he groans as he fully buries himself inside you. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby." He praises, pulling back slightly before thrusting back in, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You cry out, your body feeling so full. Elvis' thrusts are slow and deep, allowing your body to adjust. As he picks up his pace, your moans grow louder, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, driving deeper. You're both lost in the rhythm, the heat, the passion. The intensity of it all sends shockwaves through your body, and you can feel your climax building, a steady burn between your legs. Elvis' grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more forceful, and you know he's not far from his own release. “My babys’ gonna look sa’ fuckin good…so.. Fuckin’ good." He growls, a thrust punctuating each word. “Fuck! M’ gonna cum–” You cry out, your body convulsing as you reach your climax, your walls clenching tight around his cock. The sensation is too much for Elvis, and he groans, his release following yours. Thick ropes of cum coat your insides, a soft moan escaping your mouth as he cums. So much. You can feel it beginning to pool out of you as he slowly withdraws his cock. His fingers lazily scooping what had begun to fall out back into you as his limp cock rests gently against your leg. Spent and comfortable.

hii, i hope ya'll like this one :3 it was rlly fun to write tbh and kinda cute?? idk 😭

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd @iloveelvisss

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bpmiranda · 4 hours

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Tangled (Hugh Jackman)

A/N: fluffy, purely fictional, young!hugh(35s), 18+ f!reader, dog being man’s best friend

It wasn’t a secret that Hugh Jackman had begun to see someone. The paparazzi were always humming around in wait, waiting to catch the slip of a cap that revealed your face, a telling shot of your hair or your eyes. The media had speculations, that was all, and you knew they would be disappointed when they finally came to find out that you were no one special. No one of interest, really. You were his dog walker in New York. Someone he only occasionally spoke to when he was in the States, someone he grew close to from pure necessity. Your shared chats started off completely professional, setting dates and agreements on payment. Then you had begun to update him on the things his dog would do, it was innocent enough, and he appreciated how loving and dedicated you were to caring for his best friend. And then the conversation would shift away from dogs and professionalism to personal questions, nothing more intimate than how long you had lived in the city or what your favorite coffee shop was for a quick afternoon pick me up. Sure, he could’ve googled most of his queries about food or transportation in the city, but why do that if he could have the personal opinion of a local?

“Take 5th, then? Not 6th?” He asked you on the phone, already at the location he had been searching for, but simply not ready to end the call with you.

“Not unless you’d like to be harassed into buying subpar tourist souvenirs by street vendors.” You laughed and he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. “Did you find it?” You ask him, returning his attention which had drifted into the other sounds you make that often captivate him.

“Uh, yes, found it.” Hugh looked around at the little French bakery he was sitting in and nodded to himself. “Quite lovely. Won’t you join me?” He asked, throwing caution to the wind.

You bite your lip as you muse over the proposition. “What about the paparazzi?” You ask as you nervously wring your hands on the leash handle tethering you to his dog.

Hugh can’t help, but tease. “No, I don’t want to have lunch with them. I want to have lunch with you.”

Another laugh echoes through the phone line and his heart swells at the melody of it. Lord, he is in the deep end about you. “I think I should just drop him off at your place. I’d hate to get you caught on some TMZ tabloid over dating your dog sitter.”

Hugh chuckles softly, aware of your trepidations and unbelievably taken with the sense of privacy you think he’s got now. “We’re not that far apart in age, darling. It wouldn’t be the scandal you think and I assure you, I’ve got no problem getting a few pictures taken, especially of us together.” He says and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I would say a decade is about as large as is socially acceptable.” You quip, trying to mask the fact that you’re incredibly flustered with him.

But his laughs tells you he knows you’re more anxious of him than of the cameras. “Tell you what. Let me grab you a coffee from here and I’ll meet up with you in the park? It’ll seem as if I’m simply picking him up, no possible misconceptions. Yes?”

You couldn’t very well say no to that. It would seem innocent enough, so you agreed. It was incredibly difficult to keep things casual in public when all you wanted was to kiss him, touch him, hold onto him as you made out on some park bench. But it would have to wait until you were no longer in the public eye. “Thanks again for taking him to the vet.” Hugh says as the two of you stroll around the park. “You know you don’t have to keep doing this. I’m happy to hire someone else. It could free us up to do other things.”

You give him a warning look and he simply grins at you, that ever so charming grin. “Then what would my excuse be for hanging around with you?”

“You don’t need an excuse, darling.” Hugh’s eyes scan over you, noting the way your leggings cling to your thighs and ass, your sports jacket snug against your breasts and your waistline. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you.”

“Hugh,” You whisper as he suddenly stands in front of you. His deep green eyes look down lovingly at you as he tries to take the leash from your hand, he dips his head down, and you feel his lips brush the apple of your cheek. “The cameras.” You urge, aware of the few men following you at a respectable, but obvious distance since you met up.

“It’s not like they don’t already suspect us.” He reasons, his other hand coming up to your waist and you still cling to the leash he is taking from you. “Let me kiss you.” He more orders than asks and you look up at him warily. “I love to spend time with you. I can’t keep sneaking around.”

Before you can answer, his dog barks loudly and tries to make a run for what you believe was a squirrel or some other dog. His leash tangles around yours and Hugh’s legs and you’re forced into his embrace as he catches you while you fall into him. The two of you laugh as you untangle yourselves from the leash and you playfully scold his dog before Hugh suddenly wraps an arm around you and brings you into a kiss. Your body melts against his as you return the gesture and you find yourself smiling as you hear the incessant shuttering of cameras in the distance. “Guess it’s out there now.” You whisper as you pull away, breathless while you look up at him dreamily.

“Guess it is.” He grins almost triumphantly as he refuses to let you go and leans down to kiss you again. More sweetly and slowly and you think you might faint from the romance of it all. Before you continue your stroll, Hugh bends down and caresses his dog’s head. “Good boy.”

This was based on a request! I love bf!hugh🥹💕

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fic #deadpool and wolverine

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days

Text

Missing

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Tony Stark x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3,600ish

Summary: Pepper breaks up with Tony and you're there to pick up the pieces.

Warning: heartbreak, kidnapping, torture, PTSD

Notes: I don't know why I'm so nervous, but I hope that people enjoy this one.

You stood outside the lab, staring at Tony through the glass wall. Your fingers tapped nervously on your arm as you watched Tony design yet another new suit. Pepper had broken up with Tony three weeks ago and in that time Tony had left the lab twice and built seven new suits. And you seemed to be the only one worried about him.

Making your way down to the common floor, you noted how most of the Team was there, doing various things. You made your way to the kitchen area and began pulling items needed to make Tony some lunch.

“Oh! Are you making food?” Sam asked excitedly, plopping onto one of the kitchen barstools.

“Not for you,” you responded, still working. “Tony needs to eat.”

“Is Stark still locked away in his lab?” Steve asked from the couch.

“Yes, and I’m getting beyond worried.”

“No need,” Natasha chimed in. “This is just what he does.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” You grabbed a bag and began stuffing various cold drinks in it to restock Tony’s fridge in his lab.

“He’s an adult, Y/N,” Sam said. “Somethings he has to figure out on his own.”

“You know, for heroes, you sure give up on helping your supposed friends real fast.”

You grabbed the lunch for Tony and your bag before heading back to the lab. You weren’t happy to see that Tony hadn’t moved in the time that you’d been gone. Pressing your hand to the pad near the door, you silently prayed that JARVIS would let you in like the AI would often do despite Tony’s wishes. You let out a breath of relief when you heard the door unlock. You pushed it open and headed for Tony’s workbench.

“Brought lunch,” you told him. “I also brought some water bottles and your other healthy drinks to restock your fridge. I saw you were running low.”

Tony didn’t respond, eyes focused on the screens in front of you. You let yourself study his face for a moment. The deep purple bags under his eyes. The sunken features of his face, even his shoulders and arms were proof of the lost weight.

You set the food down at his desk and headed to the fridge. You sighed when you noticed that it was full but with beer. Tony used to despise beer, saying that it was too cheap for him. Now it was practically all he was consuming. Quickly, you replaced the beer with the drinks you brought. You grabbed a trash can and began to pick up the lab, scattered with cans and bottles.

“You don’t need to do that,” Tony’s voice was hoarse from barely using it since getting heartbroken by Pepper.

“I know,” you responded with a small smile, “but I want to.”

Tony went back to work and you went back to cleaning. After you had finished what you could, you noticed that he hadn’t eaten yet.

“Tony,” you sighed, coming over. “You need to eat.” The closer you got, the more you realized that he smelled. “You also need a shower.”

“I’m busy,” he grumbled.

“I’m not leaving until you eat and get in the shower.”

“Y/N—“

“I’m not joking, Stark. Eat the food before I force you to.”

You glared at Tony until he let out a grunt and reached for the food. At first, his bites were small and slow but quickly grew larger and faster. It relieved you to see him finally eat something.

“Now, you need a shower,” you said once he was finished devouring the food. “I’ll run and get you clothes.”

“Fine,” he huffed. He got up from his stool and headed over to the bathroom attached to his lab. “But be quick.”

~~~

This became the routine for the next two and a half weeks. You even had begun helping Tony with his new suits, silently passing him tools as he needed. You never pushed him to talk, you knew that Tony needed lots of time to come to grips with everything. Especially since he and Pepper had been together for years. Tony had stopped arguing with you about you helping him, and that actually concerned you.

Tony playfully argued with you all the time before the breakup. You secretly enjoyed it due to the crush you had been harboring since you met the man. You were okay with being friends though, understanding that he couldn’t reciprocate your feelings. Even now, you were just okay with taking care of him. Someone had to and you were the only one willing to step up. Which is why you weren’t happy at all when Steve requested you for a mission.

“Seriously, no one else can do this, Steve?” You questioned, trying to keep your anger at bay.

“Missions are on a rotation and you're next. It’s only fair—“

“Fair?! Tony’s not going on missions.”

“Tony’s never been in the rotation. He goes as he pleases. It’s your turn.”

“I need to stay and look after Tony.”

Steve sighed. “Tony can look after himself. I know you’re worried about him, Y/N, but he’s fine. This is just what he does.”

“That doesn’t make it okay! Steve—“

“I expect you packed and out of here by morning. That’s an order.”

You clenched your jaw and stepped back from Steve. “Whatever you saw, Captain.”

You turned and stormed off, leaving Steve feeling a little guilty for ordering you like that. Heading straight for the kitchen, you began to cook multiple meals that you could have ready for Tony to warm up. In the little time you had until your mission, you needed to make sure that Tony was going to be taken care of while you were gone.

After a long afternoon of cooking, you brought up many containers of food to Tony’s lab. By the looks of it, he was working on yet another new suit and hadn’t taken care of himself today.

“Hi, Tony,” you greeted as you entered the lab and headed straight for his fridge. You quickly began placing the containers of food in the appliance.

Tony briefly glanced up to see what you were doing before focusing back on his work. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was beginning to enjoy the company you gave him and the care you took with him. Even though parts of him still wanted to be left alone.

“Okay,” you said as you closed the freezer and headed towards Tony. “You’re all stocked up. You should have enough meals for lunch and dinner for about two weeks.”

Tony’s brows furrowed as he allowed himself to fully look at you for the first time in weeks. “What are you talking about?”

You tried not to be too excited that Tony was giving you his full attention. “I’m leaving on a mission in the morning.” You saw something flash in Tony’s eyes. Sadness? Disappointment? “Steve isn’t giving me a choice. But I made your meals and they’re all in here so that you don’t have to leave the lab.”

“Right,” Tony muttered as he went back to focusing on his work.

“Tony,” you came closer to him, hoping to regain his attention. “I need you to take care of yourself when I’m gone. Eat, drink, bathe. Maybe even leave the lab.” Tony didn’t respond. “Just… try. One thing, okay? For me?” He still gave you nothing, causing you to sigh. “Baby steps. Nothing big.” You leaned over and kissed his bearded cheek. “I’ll hurry back. I promise.”

You quickly took your leave. Tony sat completely still, thinking about your lips against his bearded cheek. He didn’t want you to leave, to go on a mission without him being in the right mindset. What if something went wrong and he wasn’t able to help you? You shouldn’t be going on this mission. Not now. But he didn’t have enough energy to go and fight Steve on this. Not that the Captain would listen anyway.

~~~

The morning came all too soon for you and Tony. Tony watched from the security feed, you pack up and head out on the quinjet. He had showered and stood by the door of the lab before you flew off, wanting to head down and wish you luck, but he couldn’t get himself to open the lab door. Once you were gone, Tony went back to his worktable and continued to work. His stomach growled around lunch time and your voice rang his his head.

“I need you to take care of yourself when I’m gone. Eat, drink, bathe.”

With a sigh, Tony pushed himself to stand and headed for the fridge. He grabbed the first container he could, his thumb brushed over something attached to the top of it. It was a sticky note with a handwritten message from you.

I’m so proud of you.

Glancing around the fridge, he noticed all the containers you had left had notes on them. He couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at his lips.

Tony suddenly became excited for meals, hopeful for what your messages said. It wasn’t long before he began using one of the glass walls to place the sticky notes on. He began to shower every day and eat and drink regularly. He made sure that most of what he drank was water, not just alcohol and coffee. Tony kept a screen up with your mission updates.

About a week and a half into your mission, you updated the Team that you’d been home in two days. Tony grew excited that you were coming back, having missed you so much that his thoughts of Pepper had died down.

Without even thinking about it, Tony left the lab and headed to his room. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was longer than normal and a full beard had grown over his face. The purple bags under his eyes were large. Before he knew it, Tony had one of his suits trim his hair, he had shaved his beard, leaving his normal goatee, and had fallen asleep in his bed.

When Tony woke up, he had slept for almost twenty-four hours and there was a renewed energy in him. Tony got up, got ready for the day, and immediately got to cleaning up his lab. He needed to make sure that everything looked good for your homecoming. Once everything was cleaned up, Tony decided to go out and pick you up some flowers.

The moment Tony stepped out of the flower shop with multiple bouquets in his arms, he could sense that something was wrong. His senses were on high alert as he began heading back to the Tower but he wasn’t prepared to be pulled into an alley and quickly drugged up. The flowers went everywhere as he fought until the darkness took hold.

~~~

The mission was an easy success, but you were still a bundle of nerves as you landed at the Tower. Had Tony taken care of himself? And if he hadn’t, was he still alive? Steve was waiting for you as you headed out of the quinjet.

“Well done,” he complimented. “You—“

“Where’s Tony?” You quickly cut him off. “Is he alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? Seriously, Steve, Tony is your teammate.” You shook your head in disappointment. “I’m going to check on him.”

“We need to debrief—“

“Screw you, Rogers. The debrief can wait.”

~~~

The lab was empty when you arrived. You were surprised by that and by how clean it was.

“Tony?” You called, making sure he wasn’t in there.

You turned and froze when you caught sight of all your notes hanging up on one of the glass walls. Your heart swelled at the thought of Tony enjoying the notes and taking care of himself by eating the meals you had prepared. Though, you still checked the fridge and freezer to make sure he had eaten them. You wanted to cry at the sight of the empty appliance.

“JARVIS,” you summoned the AI, “where’s Tony?”

“I’m afraid something has happened,” the AI responded and your heart quickly dropped.

“What’s going on?”

“Mr. Stark seems to be missing.”

“Missing? What the hell are you talking about?”

“He left the Tower early this morning to get flowers but he never returned. I haven’t been able to track him besides the street camera footage that I have just received and pulled up on the screen.”

You quickly sat down on Tony’s stool and watched the video footage. Tony exited the flower shop with too many bouquets in his arms. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder who they were for. A selfish part of you hoped that they had been meant for you. Before you could continue thinking about the flowers, you watched as Tony was pulled into an alley. He fought against the large men grabbing at him but he had been drugged. As soon as Tony fainted, he was placed in a large, blacked-out SUV.

“JARVIS, I need to know where that SUV went,” you demanded.

“I have mapped out the route,” JARVIS stated as a map appeared on the screen, outlining the route of the SUV.

“Ready the quinjet with the directions. I’ve got to go find Tony.”

~~~

Tony gasped as his head was pulled out of the large tub of ice water. His lungs were burning as were his throat and nose. His arms were tied behind his back and there were two men continually dunking him in and out of the ice water. Those who had taken him had yet to tell him what they wanted, and he expected that they would have their fun with him first.

With another push into the water, Tony tried to keep his thoughts away from the panic and PTSD surge. He had this happen to him before, years ago in that cave that changed him. Instead of focusing on the pain — past and current— Tony tried his best to focus on you. He hoped that you had gotten home from your mission safely. And that, maybe, you had noticed he was gone. The other members of the Team seemed to not notice him, especially since Pepper broke his heart. Tony could only hope that you would take notice.

~~~

“Hey!” Steve yelled as he jogged toward you. “JARVIS just told me you were taking the quinjet.”

“Yes,” you responded, curtly. You were headed for the weapons room.

“I need it for—“

“Don’t care. Because of you and the other idiots we consider a Team, Tony is missing.”

“Missing? Tony’s not missing. He’s probably just at a bar or—“

You stopped suddenly, causing Steve to almost trip over his feet. “JARVIS can pull up the footage for you. Tony was kidnapped and I’m going to go recuse him.”

“Alone? You can’t—“

“SHUT UP ROGERS! I don’t want to hear it. You and the others are—UGH! If Tony didn’t need help right now, I would be kicking all of you to the curb! Tony is our teammate! Our friend! And because you all believed this was ‘normal’ or that Tony just needed time, he was kidnapped! I am going to go rescue him and bring him home. Alone. The rest of you better stay out of my way when I get back.”

~~~

Tony was strapped to a metal table, bloodied and bruised, grateful to be away from the ice water. He was fighting to stay conscious despite the gunshots that began to sound outside the room he was held in. The door to the room kicked open with a bang and Tony clenched his eyes shut, trying to prepare for whatever may happen next.

You at to bite back the tears that threatened to spill at the sight of Tony, tied up and completely helpless. You took the steps needed to be near him, hands hovering above him, not knowing if he wanted your touch.

“Tony,” you breathed out. “Tony, honey, it’s me.”

Slowly, Tony’s eyes opened and fell on you. He almost didn’t believe you were real. But the concern in your watery eyes told him that you were very real.

“Oh, Tony,” you whispered, hands still hovering above him.

“I left the lab,” he rasped.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “This is not what I meant when I said you needed to leave the lab.” You took out your knife from your belt and cut the straps from him. “Can you stand?”

“I think so,” Tony nodded as he sat up. He stood off the table, only for his knees to buckle.

You quickly caught him. “I’ve got you. Let’s get out of here.”

~~~

The Team was waiting for you with the med-bay team when the quinjet landed. The med-bay team rushed on the quinjet and pushed Tony out on a stretcher. You were right beside Tony, his hand holding yours like it was what was keeping him alive. Natasha and Steve stepped up and opened their mouths but you glared at them before they could say anything.

You made sure the med-bay room was shut before the Team could join. Tony didn’t need those fake friends right now. The doctors quickly gave him a check-up, medicine, and bandages before leaving him and you in the room. Tony fell asleep with you still holding his hand. It was a few hours before you decided to pull the Team into the common room.

“I have never been so disappointed in my life,” your voice was scarily cold and firm. “For a team of heroes, you are truly the worst friends ever.”

“In our defense,” Sam bravely spoke up, “Tony doesn’t handle things well and—“

“I swear, if I hear another shitty excuse from any of you, I will seriously harm every single one of you. I don’t want to hear any of it. Tony has done nothing but help eat of you. Given you money, a place to stay, new suits, and weapons. Tony buys the groceries and makes sure that each of our favorite things makes the list. He has things fixed before we can complain, whether he does it himself or calls someone in. Tony is always looking out for each one of us. But when he needed us, none of you cared. None of you were there.”

“Y/N,” Bruce timidly spoke up. “We’re so sorry.”

“I am not the one you need to apologize to. Tony needs—“

“Excuse the interruption,” JARVIS said, “but it seems that Mr. Stark is in distress.”

You were running to the med-bay before JARVIS could even finish. The others were right behind you but stopped outside the room, allowing you to go in alone. Tony was thrashing around on the bed, sweat making his skin shiny. He was crying out as you came to his side. Your hands found his face, holding it carefully.

“Tony, wake up,” you said. “I’m right here, you’re safe. Wake up.”

Tony gasped awake, eyes frantically searching the room until they found you. “Y/N.”

“I’m here.” His arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him. “I’m right here.”

The Team watched, extremely guilt-ridden. Tony deserved better from them, you were right. But this wasn’t going to be an easy fix by any means.

~~~

The nightmares happened every night. You ended up sleeping on a chair next to him, even when he was released from the med-bay and allowed back to his room. By every morning, you would be lying in Tony’s bed, his arms wrapped around you tightly after you tried to soothe his nightmares.

The Team had started shaping up and caring again. Though, you were more skeptical about it than Tony. Tony quickly forgave, wanting to put it all in the past. You continued to glare and ignore the others when Tony wasn’t around.

The two of you would spend your days in the lab, working together on whatever Tony wanted to. The two of you would talk about everything besides Tony’s break-up and his kidnapping. You knew he should talk about it, but you weren’t going to pressure him.

“Every time I close my eyes, I get thrown back there,” Tony admitted one night after you had helped him wake up from his nightmare. Your head was resting on his chest as he held you close. “I get thrown back to that cave… even after all these years…”

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” you told him. “I wish I could take those memories from you.”

“I don’t wish them upon anyone.” He kissed your head. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You looked up at him. “For what?”

“For always being there for me. For forcing me to take care of myself.”

“Tony, I will always do that for you.”

“You know, I was on my way back with flowers before I was taken.”

“Yeah?”

“They were for you.”

“Really?”

“I was trying to thank you and I guess I should have figured out a different plan.”

“I would have loved them… mainly because they were from you.”

“Y/N… you were the only reason I survived those hours… I had hope that you’d find me.”

“I will always find you, Tony… however you may be missing.”

Tony’s gaze fell to your lips. You got the hint and leaned up and kissed him. He held you closer as the two of you kissed. When you separated, he kissed your forehead.

“So… when can I expect replacement flowers?”

Tony laughed. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date."

#avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #tony stark imagines #tony stark x gn reader #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction #iron man imagine #marvel x reader #tony stark x gender neutral!reader #tony stark x gender neutral reader

57 notes · View notes

natashaslesbian · 17 hours

Text

Another Mother | Part 3

Scarlett helps you out when you start to get sick, she hopes you’re getting closer until your dad tells you he’s needed back at work. All you truly want is your mother, not Scarlett

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings/Content: Sickness, Throwing up, Medication, One hint of non sexual nudity, One swear word

—————————————————————————

You followed slowly behind your dad into the living room, finding Scarlett already settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Hey you two” Scarlett smiled, a little too friendly for your liking, despite your earlier bonding time. “Did you apologise?” The blonde asked Colin “yeah” your dad nodded. “Good, now let’s watch a film, what’s your pick y/n?” Scarlett said as she adjusted her position on the couch, hoping you would join her. She was slightly disappointed when you took a seat on the spare armchair beside the expensive looking couch, wiping at your suddenly stuffy nose “terminator 2” you said as you slumped down. “Oh one of my favs, nice pick” Scarlett said as Colin came and sat beside her. Your dad sighed as he got comfortable “guess I gotta get used to being outnumbered again” Colin smiled as he wrapped his arm around the blondes shoulders “looks like you girls are already ganging up on me” he joked. “We make a good team y/n” Scarlett smiled at you “we’re not a team” you coldly replied “just two people living under the same roof who happen to get on occasionally” you said with a croaky voice. You didn’t see it, but Scarlett smiled at your words. Even if it was only occasionally, she was happy to be getting on with you, it was a start.

Your eyes grew tired towards the end of the film, a small headache forming behind your eyes. The exhaustion due to your restless night soon lulled you into a comfortable doze. “I think someone’s ready for bed” Scarlett whispered when she saw your head slowly bobbing to the side. “Y/n, wakey wakey!” Your dad called, using that annoying voice which he thought was hilarious. Your brows furrowed as you shuffled slightly “Colin!” Scarlett groaned. “Sorry kiddo” he laughed “you tired? Why don’t you go take a nap before dinner?” He said. You sighed loudly as you sat up, rubbing at your sore eyes “no I’m good” you said. “You sure?” Colin asked worriedly, to which you nodded in response. “You do look a little pale y/n” Scarlett piped up. “God I’m fine! What do you care anyway?” You snapped as you stood from the chair, leaving heavy footsteps in the path of your exit. “Hey! What did I tell you about the attitude!” Your dad called after you. “Leave it honey, she doesn’t seem well” the blonde said, running her hand along Colin’s arm in what she hoped was a soothing manor. “She’s fine” he huffed.

You made it halfway up the stairs before a rough cough escaped your lungs, as if being home sick wasn’t enough, now you were getting actually sick. You finally made it to your bedroom, where you flopped down dramatically onto your bed. Being too tired to change, you rolled over into your stomach letting your heavy head hit the pillow. You slept through dinner, Colin left you to sleep when he came to check on you. You slept so deeply, it was morning the next time you opened your eyes. You whined as the morning sun hit your gaze, making your pounding headache ten times worse. You were slightly dazed, but still knew it was Monday, meaning you needed to get ready for school. You peeled back your duvet and began shivering despite the sweat running down your head. You somehow made it to the door quickly, ignoring the ache of your muscles in each step. When making your way to the bathroom, the haze behind your eyes caught up with you, sending you toppling down to your knees. The crash against the wall had your dad awake in seconds “y/n?” He said as he swung open his bedroom door.

You saw a hint of worry come over your dad as he ran towards you “are you alright kid?” He said as he began to help you up “god you’re boiling” he exclaimed, deciding it would be better to keep you sitting. An inquisitive blonde appeared in the doorway, also awoken by the noise “is everything alright?” She said. “You were right, I think she’s sick” Colin frowned as he held you in his arms. “M fine” you whined “gotta school go” you slurred. “No sweetie I don’t think you’re going to school today” your dad said “I…um…I’ll call them okay, and we’ll…we’ll get you feeling better in no time” he stuttered, slightly unsure of what to do “let’s get you back to bed” he said. “I think she needs a shower first” Scarlett said, still standing in the doorway. “What?” Colin said, looking up at her. The older woman came to rest the back of her hand on your forehead, you shuffled away when she came into contact with you, pulling a face of disgust. “She’s too warm, she needs a cold shower” the woman said. Colin’s face fell into shock “right…well uh” he mumbled. “I’ll do it” Scarlett said “if that’s okay with you” she asked as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, thrilled when you didn’t shrug her off. Your dad smiled at the offer from his fiancé “you go call her school” she smiled back “I don’t know the number” Colin said in defeat. “I’ll find it later” Scarlett said as she rolled her eyes.

You felt a pair of arms scooping you underneath your arms, gently lifting you away from the floor “ok sweetie, come on let’s get you in the shower” Scarlett said as she took on all of your weight. Being too dizzy to notice, you allowed yourself to be helped into the bathroom and deposited into the toilet lid. The running water caught your attention and you furiously rubbed at your eyes trying to regain your vision. “Hey try not to do that okay, you’ll make them sore” Scarlett said as she reached for your hands. “Leave me lone” you said as you saw a flash of blonde hair “don wan you” you grumbled. Scarlett was getting used to your standoffish attitude, so she didn’t take your words to heart. “I know you don’t y/n but you need a shower and I don’t think you can do it yourself right now” she said as she checked the temperature of the water. Satisfied that it was cool enough, Scarlett began peeling away the shirt stuck to your skin “we’ll keep your underwear on okay but I need to take your shorts off too” she said soothingly. Despite your best ideas, you allowed the blonde to help you stand and step out of your shorts as they pooled at your ankles. “‘S cold” you groaned as you stepped underneath the water. “I know sweetheart but we gotta cool you down” Scarlett said as she helped you to sit in the tub.

You whined as more of your skin came into contact with the cold water, Scarlett gently shushed you as she helped you to settle against the tiles. You didn’t put up much of a fight once your body was supported by the tiles and Scarlett took the opportunity to search for your schools phone number. Once she found it, the actress poked her head out of the bathroom door and called for her fiancé. “I got the schools number” she said as Colin climbed the last few steps. “Thank you baby, is she okay?” he asked as he typed the number into his own phone. “She’s only just got in but it should cool her down a bit. I’m guessing Marie used to take care of this kinda stuff?” Scarlett questioned. Colin smiled at the mention of his late wife “yeah she did” he said, reliving all the times you would be napping with your mother when you had a cold. “Why don’t you go make her some breakfast, she needs to eat before we give her some medicine” Scarlett said as she held Colin’s hand lovingly “okay yeah” your dad sighed as he ran back down the staircase, still in his panicked state at your sudden sickness.

Scarlett returned to the side of the bath and leant over to gauge your temperature, she was delighted when you felt much cooler than before. “Okay let’s get you out sweetie” she said as she reached for a fluffy towel. “No tired” you mumbled through the droplets of the water “thought you said it was too cold?” Scarlett smirked as she helped you to stand up again. “Don wan your help if you jus gon make fun of me” you argued, your anger a stark juxtaposition to the grip you had on her arms. “Sorry baby” Scarlett said, the nickname sliding off her tongue so naturally. You grimaced in annoyance at her affection but allowed her to help you back to your bedroom nonetheless. “Sit tight okay, I’ll grab you some fresh clothes” the blonde said as she sat you on your bed “I feel sick” you groaned as you wrapped your arms around your bubbling stomach. Scarlett took notice of your movements and hurried across the room to place your bin underneath your chin. On cue, the small contents of your stomach came out, it was mostly acid considering you hadn’t eaten in almost 15 hours. “Alright sweetie, it’s okay, let it all out” Scarlett cooed as she ran her hands along your back. You pulled back when you were done, avoiding the bin as you moved your head forwards to rest on the blondes frame. She placed the metal can back on the floor and gently soothed the skin of your arms. “I…I need to get dressed” you stuttered as you slowly pushed Scarlett away, feeling guilty for relying on her so heavily. “Do you want some help” Scarlett asked. “No, I can do it” you said as you pushed yourself to your feet and turned your back to the older woman, ending the conversation.

Scarlett waited just outside your door while you pulled your clothes back onto your cooler body. Colin came rising back up the stairs with a tray of fever friendly food. “Hey, she’s just getting dressed” the blonde said as she leaned over the tray to give her fiancé a kiss. “Okay hunny, thanks for looking after her” Colin said “I made her soup and a few slices of toast” he sighed as he held out the tray, wishing you could get better quickly, he hated to see you like this. “That should settle her stomach a bit, she threw up” Scarlett frowned, also hating to see you like this. “Oh god okay, I’ll see if I can get the rest of the week off work, I’m due back tomorrow” Colin said. He placed the tray on the hallway table and pulled out his phone to call his boss when a small whimper came from your bedroom. “Scarlett?” You called out “yeah sweetheart” the blonde replied leaning gently against the door. “I think I need some help getting dressed” you muttered “okay I’m coming in” Scarlett said as she picked up the tray of food for you “I got her” she nodded to your father. Scarlett couldn’t help the pitying whine that escaped her when she came back into your room. You were half sitting on the bed and half sitting on the floor, you’d managed to dress your lower half but when trying to put a loose sports bra over your head, you failed tremendously. The older woman kept her eyes above your shoulders as she helped to pull the bra over your chest, when you were covered she grabbed the large shirt she had laid out and helped you to slip into it. “Thank you” you whispered, “don’t mention it sweetie.

You climbed back into bed as Scarlett carried over the food your dad had prepared “‘M not hungry” you whined as she set it down on your lap. “You need to eat y/n, you’ll feel better I promise. And after your done we’ll get some medicine in you then you can sleep okay” Scarlett said, unconsciously leaning forward to brush away a loose strand of your hair. You continued to moan in disagreement but soon you had finished the whole meal, you felt a little bitter though you were definitely not going to tell Scarlett she was right. Your dad stopped by as you were finishing up, arms full of medication as he wasn’t sure which ones you needed. You and Scarlett both chuckled as his frantic state “give it here” she blonde rolled her eyes and reached for the basket. “How are you feeling pumpkin?” Colin asked as he rested a hand on your forehead “sleepy” you whispered “we’ll get you tucked in soon I promise” he cooed. Scarlett found what medicine you needed and helped you to swallow it, despite your unwillingness. She stood back as her fiancé helped to soothe you to sleep “get some sleep” Colin said as he switched off your overhead light, leaving you to rest. “I can’t get the week off” your dad sighed as he closed you bedroom door “they’re behind on scripts for the sketches I gotta go in” he sighed. “She’ll understand baby” Scarlett said as held Colin’s hand tightly “and I’ll be here to look after her” she said. “I know it’s just, her mom used to watch her when she was sick, or on school holidays, practically all the time cause I was at work. I thought I would finally have a chance to be there for her” Colin frowned. “She knows that you love her CJ, and she knows that you’re always gonna be there for her, wherever you are” the blonde said as she brushed his cheeks in her hands. “Come on, I think we have time for our own breakfast while she sleeps” Scarlett smiled as she lead her fiancé back down to the living room.

The pair kept a close eye on you for the rest of the day, although you slept for most of it. Despite your sickness, Scarlett and Colin used this time to spend together, basking in each other’s comfort. You were awake now and enjoying a sit com in the silence of your room. The medicine was beginning to ware off and you felt the same bubbling in your stomach return from earlier. Colin shot up from his desk when he heard the retching coming from upstairs, he jumped into action as he ran up to you followed by Scarlett. The door swung open to reveal you with your head over the bin once again “oh pumpkin” your dad cooed. “Daddy” you whined as she came to your side. The blonde also appeared behind you, pulling your hair into a loose ponytail to avoid it getting in the way. Colin nodded in thanks to his partner as he gently stroked your back “it’s alright kiddo” he soothed. When you were done, you leaned back against your dad in defeat. He didn’t waste a second as he scooped you up into his arm, bringing you back to your bed. You saw the look in his eyes, the one that meant he had something to tell you “you have to go to work tomorrow don’t you?” You quietly asked. “Yeah baby, I’m so sorry there’s nothing I can do” Colin said as he reached around your shoulders to hold you against himself. “Scarlett will be here though, she can look after you okay?” He said. You drew your gaze to the blonde standing at the foot of your bed. You wished your dad could be with you, the comfort of your mother was absent and now so would your father’s, Scarlett was the last person you wanted around right now. “Okay” you sighed in defeat. You supposed it could’ve been worse, and Scarlett had helped you out today. Whether or not you wanted to admit it.

You soon fell back asleep in your fathers arms, feeling comforted by his presence. You didn’t join him and Scarlett for dinner, your stomach not being able to hold anything. Nightfall soon came and you resorted to having a movie marathon having slept so much already. You were feeling worse than ever as you couldn’t take any of the medication on an empty stomach, but you just couldn’t keep anything down, your tummy was constantly aching. It was around three am when you couldn’t hold back from stumbling over to the bin again. You had no concept of time and the world was going around in a blur. “Y/n?” You heard as you gently turned your head to the footsteps closing in. “Oh pumpkin” Colin sighed as he came to your side. “Dad” you whined as you leaned into him “what time is it?” You asked. “About 3” your father said. You glanced towards your window, seeing no light leaking through “am?” You said feeling guilty for waking him. “Go back to sleep daddy, you have work today” you said as you toyed with his necklace. “It’s okay baby don’t worry about me” Colin said as he too your face into his hands. “You’re gonna be tired” you frowned, your vision blurring slightly. “No, no sweetie it’s okay” your dad said as he helped you to stand.

“Come on let’s get you back to bed” Colin said as he supported your weight on the short walk back to your mattress. “I wanna go home” you said as water crept up behind your eyes. “You are home kiddo” your dad sighed as he began to tuck you back into bed. “I’ll never be home again, not without mom” you cried, thinking about your moms soft hands gently flowing through your long hair. “Pumpkin, you gotta let her go” Colin whispered. “What like you did” you snapped, sitting up with a sudden burst of energy. “You just let her go, moved on and forgot about her. You sold her house, drove in some new bimbo to replace her and just let her go!” You shouted, tears now streaming down your face. “Y/n” your dad sighed “it’s not heathy to keep holding on, she would want you to-“ he continued before you cut him off “don’t you dare say she’d want me to move on” you sobbed. Colin sat back in defeat as you flipped back down into bed, turning your back to him and pulling your stuffed bear close to your face. “Y/n” he whispered “just go dad. You’ve got work in a few hours. I’m not gonna be the reason you get fired for falling asleep at your desk” you muttered under your breath, shaking due to your small outburst and probably your once again rising temperature. “Scarlett’s here if you need anything” Colin said coldly as he headed off back to bed for a few extra hours. “Like fuck” you cursed.

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A/N: Series Masterlist here<3

- Astara Bell

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#scarlett johansson #scarlett x reader #scarjo #colin jost #colin x reader #sickfic #sick reader #snl #natasha romanoff #marvel

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