#Still it gave me a little smile this evening

[rissouu]

the strong scent of vanilla hit his nostrils as he gripped the sides of your waist. his face was nuzzled into your neck, while his hands focused on caging you down onto him. sleep was never easy for gojo, he always had something on his mind. and even when he didn’t it still wasn’t possible for him to get any rest. how could he sleep when he had such a beautiful wife to gaze at?

he was fascinated with every little thing about you. the way your bottom lip curled into a pout when you slept, or how your eyebrows would furrow up as if you were mad.

gojo could go on and on about the smallest of details when it came to you. you were his everything. and also the reason he could never get any sleep, he was too busy being allured by your beauty.

“my beautiful..” he trailed off, leaving soft kisses on your neck, so soft because he didn’t want to wake his gorgeous goddess. “beautiful wife..” now his hands were in your hair, gently soothing your scalp.

the biting didn’t start until he got bored of playing in your hair. gojo’s teeth grazed your neck ever so lightly before slowly sinking in, not enough to hurt you but enough for you to feel it and groan in your sleep.

his lips sucked at the bite mark offering the irritated skin a sense of relief. the hand that was on your waist, binding you to him was now inside of your shirt, soothing the skin of your back as if you were a baby. his baby.

“i love you s’much my princess, you’re never leaving me okay? our souls are tied for life,” he spoke so softly as he left one last bite, but this time it was your cheek. and even though you were asleep.. your body seemed to somehow answer for you.

your hand lightly slapped against his cheek, fingers hitting the lids of his eyes. gojo couldn’t stop the low chuckle bubbling from his throat as he gave your sleeping form one last smile before replying.

“im glad ya’ understand mama.”

©rissouu 2024 (im not crying u are).

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[harrysfolklore]

can we have a little honorary wag blurb where she’s freaking out about meeting charles’s entire friend group but when she does , she gets along with them really well and baby chiara ADORES her 🥹

thank you for sending this request, i really missed writing about these babiesss 🥺🥺 i hope you like thisss

READ THE HONORARY WAG HERE

A few weeks had passed since Kika and Pierre’s wedding, and life had settled into a pleasant routine for you and Charles. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sprawled on the couch in Charles’ living room, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you watched TV.

Charles was in the kitchen, making coffee. You could hear him humming to himself, a soft, contented sound that made you smile. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you were finally finding your rhythm together, and it felt perfect.

Being his girlfriend felt perfect.

“Do you want anything with your coffee, mon coeur?” Charles called out, his voice carrying into the living room.

“Just some cookies, if we have any,” you replied, stretching out and snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Charles appeared a few minutes later, balancing two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies. He handed you your mug and placed the plate on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.

Charles smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I could get used to this,” he said, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It’s nice to have some time to just relax and be together.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “So, I've bee thinking."

You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued by his tone. "Oh? About what?"

Charles took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "Well, we've been together for almost a month now, and things have been going really well…"

"They have," you agreed, smiling up at him.

"And I was thinking," he continued, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair, "maybe it's time for you to meet my friends. My whole friend group, I mean."

You felt a small flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You'd met some of Charles' friends in passing, of course, but the idea of meeting his entire friend group felt significant.

"Your whole friend group?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice casual.

Charles nodded, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah. Joris, who you've already met a few times, Riccardo and Marta, and a few others. They're really important to me, and… well, you're really important to me too. I'd love for you all to get to know each other better."

You almost melted at his words, his green eyes looking at you with a tenderness that made you regret not looking at them for so long.

It wasn’t just the idea of meeting his friends—it was the way he phrased it, making you feel special, like you were becoming an integral part of his life. But at the same time, your nerves fluttered in your stomach.

“Charles, that sounds… great,” you said, trying to sound confident, but the slight edge in your voice gave you away.

He narrowed his eyes at you, gently setting his coffee cup down on the table. “But?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little nervous," you sighed, shifting so you could look at him fully, "They’ve known you for so long, and I don’t want to feel like the odd one out, you know? What if I don’t fit in?”

“Mon amour, you’re not an outsider," Charles’ expression softened even more as he reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, "You’re my girlfriend, and that means you’re already part of my world.”

You bit your lip, still feeling a little unsure. It was a lot of pressure—meeting the people who had been with Charles through thick and thin, who knew sides of him that you were still discovering.

“I’m sure they’re great,” you said, leaning into him a little, “but it’s still kind of intimidating. I mean, Riccardo and Marta have a baby. What if I’m awkward around Chiara?”

Charles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Chiara’s a baby. All she cares about is who makes her laugh and who gives her food. And knowing you, you’ll have her wrapped around your finger in no time.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, imagining a tiny baby giggling in your arms. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Charles replied, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I get it. Meeting new people, especially people who are important to me, can be overwhelming. But I promise, they’re going to love you. And more importantly, I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

His words calmed the nervous buzzing in your mind, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll meet them.”

Charles’ face lit up with that boyish grin you adored, and he kissed you softly on the lips. “That’s my girl. I’ll talk to them, and we’ll make a plan for next weekend.”

You smiled against his lips before pulling back. “Next weekend, huh? No pressure, right?”

He winked, squeezing your hand, “None at all. Just you, me, and my crazy friends.”

The following weekend came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you and Charles were standing outside Riccardo and Marta’s house, your heart beating a little faster than usual. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the backyard, and you could already hear Chiara’s high-pitched giggles.

“You okay?” Charles squeezed your hand as you stood at the front door.

“Yeah, just…" you took a deep breath, nodding, "You know, trying to remember how to be a functioning human.”

"Mon coeur, it's fine!" Charles gave you a huge grin, "Just think bout the first time you came to a race with Kika and met everyone. You were a natural."

You chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, and from that moment, I thought you disliked me for the longest time."

"Baby, we've talked about this," Charles raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I was just... reserved," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.

You nudged him playfully. "You were cold! Barely even smiled at me. I thought, 'Great, Pierre’s friend is grumpy and doesn’t like me at all.’"

"And now, look at me," Charles laughed, pulling you closer, "Head over heels for you. Who would've thought?"

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. His eyes softened, and before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.

When you finally pulled away, Charles rested his forehead against yours. "I promise, they’ll love you. Just be yourself, like you always are."

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "Okay, I’m ready."

With that, Charles opened the door, and the two of you stepped inside, the lively sounds of his friends filling the space around you. The air was warm, the atmosphere welcoming, and as soon as you stepped through, Joris waved at you from across the room, and Marta smiled brightly, holding little Chiara.

"Well, well, if it isn't the girl who used to roll her eyes every time Charles spoke," Joris teased, approaching you and pulling you into a friendly hug.

You laugh, feeling some of your nervousness dissipate. "What can I say? He grew on me."

"Like a fungus, I'm sure," Joris winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Marta spotted you both and beamed, making her way over with Chiara balanced on her hip. Riccardo followed closely behind her, grinning widely.

"Ah, there he is," Riccardo greeted, pulling Charles into a hug before turning to you with a bright smile. "And this must be YN. It’s so great to finally meet you."

Charles stepped to the side, his hand still holding yours as he made the introductions. "Riccardo, Marta, this is YN, my girlfriend. YN, these are two of my closest friends in the world."

You smiled nervously but warmly, offering your hand to Riccardo, who brushed it aside to pull you into a friendly hug. "We do hugs around here," he said with a wink.

Marta followed suit, hugging you carefully while balancing Chiara in her arms. "It’s so nice to meet you, YN," she said, her smile warm and welcoming. "Charles has told us all about you. It’s about time we finally get to meet the girl who’s got him smiling all the time."

You chuckled nervously, your cheeks flushing a little. "He exaggerates."

"I don’t think so," Charles teased, his arm slipping around your waist again as he beamed at you.

Another one of Charles' friends raised his glass from where he was standing. "And here she is—the woman who tolerates Charles better than any of us."

You laughed at that, feeling some of the tension slip away as everyone welcomed you with open arms. The introductions continued as more of Charles’ friends trickled into the conversation, each one greeting you warmly, making you feel like part of the group in no time. It was clear that Charles’ friends were just as kind and friendly as he had promised.

“I’m so glad you could come," Marta said as she sat down next to you, little Chiara still in her arms.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied warmly, already feeling more at ease with her friendly demeanor.

Baby Chiara’s curious eyes darted toward you. You waved at her with a soft smile, and to your surprise, Chiara giggled, her little hands reaching out toward you.

“She’s been so excited all day,” Marta said with a chuckle, adjusting Chiara on her lap. “I think she knew we were having company. You want to hold her?”

You hesitated for a moment, but before you could even reply, Chiara was practically leaning over to get closer to you. You couldn't help but laugh, your heart melting at the sight of her small, chubby hands reaching out.

“I think she’s made up her mind,” you said, taking Chiara from Marta. The little girl settled in your lap immediately, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes before giving you a sweet, toothy grin.

Charles, who had been chatting with Riccardo and Joris nearby, turned around just in time to catch the scene. His expression softened as he watched you interact with Chiara, his heart clearly in his eyes as he leaned against the counter, completely mesmerized.

“She loves you already,” Marta said softly, watching the way Chiara kept reaching for your face, fascinated by your hair and earrings.

“She’s adorable,” you said, your voice equally soft as you gently played with the little girl’s hands. Chiara giggled again, her laughter filling the room, and you couldn’t help but beam at her.

Charles crossed the room, his eyes still glued to the two of you. "She’s not the only one," he teased, placing a hand on your shoulder as he bent down to kiss your temple. "She’s got good taste."

"You're such a sap," Joris called out from where he sat, grinning as he popped another cookie into his mouth. "Look at you, all gooey and soft."

“Careful, Joris,” Charles replied, smirking at him. “Don’t make me start telling embarrassing stories about you."

“Oh, I’d love to hear those,” Marta chimed in, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

“Hey, I’m not the one who once locked himself out of the house without pants,” Joris shot back, earning a chorus of laughter from everyone around the room.

Amidst the laughter, Marta leaned closer to you, her voice just above a whisper. “You know,” she said, glancing at Charles, who was still gazing at you and Chiara with that adoring smile, “I’ve never seen him like this. I can tell he’s really happy with you.”

Her words made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up at Charles, feeling a warmth spread through you as you caught his eye. He winked at you, completely oblivious to Marta’s words, but it only made the moment more special.

"Thank you," you replied quietly, feeling a bit shy under her knowing gaze. "That means a lot coming from you."

Marta smiled, patting your hand. "I'm really glad he found someone special. You fit right in."

Before you could respond, Chiara began fussing slightly in your lap, clearly looking for something. Charles noticed immediately and knelt down beside you, offering the small toy she had dropped earlier. As soon as you handed it to her, Chiara calmed down, grabbing the toy and happily gnawing on it.

"I told you she'd love you," Charles grinned as he watched the two of you.

"You're right," you replied with a smile, gently bouncing Chiara in your lap. "She's perfect."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You found yourself quickly settling into the group, enjoying the way everyone seemed so at ease with one another. Joris and Riccardo were relentless in teasing Charles, often making jokes about how smitten he was, while Marta continued to shoot you knowing glances, clearly pleased with how everything was going.

At one point, as the evening wound down, Chiara started to get sleepy. She nestled into your arms, her little fingers curling around your shirt as her eyes fluttered closed.

Charles, who had been watching the whole time, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "You’re amazing with her," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

"She’s the sweetest," you whispered back, glancing down at the tiny girl fast asleep in your arms.

Charles’ gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his heart completely full. He had never imagined that watching you with Chiara would have such an effect on him, but here he was, absolutely melting at the sight.

As the night drew to a close, Riccardo and Marta thanked you both for coming. “Next time, we’ll have to do it at your place, Charles,” Riccardo joked, clapping him on the back.

“Sure, as long as you bring Chiara,” Charles replied with a grin, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stood by his side.

Marta gave you a quick hug before you left. "Seriously," she whispered in your ear, "We're really glad you're in his life."

You smiled at her, feeling the warmth and sincerity behind her words. "Me too."

[darknight3904]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3.7 𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Happy 21st of September! Originally, I had Pitbull in this story and at the last minute decided to change it to Earth, Wind & Fire.

Logan wasn't sure what to think as he watched you, Wade, and Vanessa pregame your evening. At this rate, the three of you were going to be too drunk to even get in your Uber, let alone actually walk into whatever club or bar you were supposed to be going to.

"Want some, Peanut?" Wade asked as he tipped another shot back

"No." Logan said from his seat at the table

"Oh c'mon, since when did you give up drinking? You were Frank Gallagher level when I picked you up in your universe! Don't tell me you're going all righteous on me!" Wade pushed.

"Are you even able to get drunk?" He asked suspiciously

"Are you?" Wade grinned

"It's girls night, Logan. Humor me with a shot." Vanessa smiled warmly

He slowly took the shot glass from Wade's hands before quickly downing it.

"If it's girl's night, why is this one going with you?" He asked nodding at Wade who was pouring more drinks.

"Honorary member." You winked at him

Logan shook his head, you were definitely drunk already. Senseless flirting didn't fit your style. Not that it mattered much since Logan wasn't focused on any of that currently. The only reason he was still sitting here in the kitchen tolerating Wade Wilson was you, or more particularly, what you were wearing. The skimpy black dress, if it even qualified as that, was simply mesmerizing. The way it hugged your body in all the right spots and left little to the imagination was driving him mad.

"If you keep staring, you eyes are going to pop right out of your head." Wade snickers in his ear

"Fuck you," Logan says

"You wish." Wade sighs

"Why don't you come out with us, Logan?" Vanessa asks

"I'm fine here, got lots of stuff to do." He grunts

"Fucking your hand to that picture I gave you isn't stuff." Wade chastizes

"What picture?" You ask, a mean-looking smirk on your face

"So glad you asked, Pumpkin. Logan here now has a picture of yo-"

Logan jumps up, slapping his hand over Wade's mouth. The slink of his claws coming out of his other hand have the room silent.

"Shut the fuck up." He orders, letting Wade go.

"Sorry, daddy." Wade laughs, darting to hide behind Vanessa when Logan swings for him, claws gleaming in the light.

He takes another glance at you and that damn dress. Fuck it, he wants to stare at you all night, he might as well get a few drinks out of it. And not just the shitty vodka Wade was trying to shove down his throat.

The club, he hadn't bothered catching the name of, was packed. He could practically smell the sweat that was rolling off some of these people. Didn't they shower? Was there a soap shortage in this dimension?

"Kesha!" Vanessa yells as a new song starts.

On his right, you jump up from your seat, eager to dance to whatever electronic-sounding beat this was. He watches as Vanessa leads you to the dance floor.

"Y'know I bet she can sense all the blood that's rushing to your dick right now. Don't you have any shame? You perverted old man!"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth?" Logan groaned, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappeared with Vanessa behind groups of strangers. If they weren't in public Wade would've had three silver claws lodged in his brain right now.

"Nope! Unless you give me something to occupy it with." Wade grins, "I'm talking about what's down under, Peanut. Pull it on out, I bet it's Hugh. Ha! Get it Huge? Hugh?"

Logan scowled at the inappropriate joke, choosing to ignore the Australian accent Wade had thrown into the middle of the sentence. There was something seriously wrong with him.

"Ugh, I fucking love girls night." Wade sighs, tossing his head back

"You're not even a girl." Logan points out

"You transphobic bitch. What if I decided I was this morning?" Wade gasps beside him.

"You've decided to be a girl?" Logan asks

"No," Wade replies, "It's the idea of it."

Logan had no idea what he was babbling about as he leaned forward to sip at his drink.

"I know about your little crush." Wade says, "Can I just say you're totally brave for that one. She always looks like she wants to rip your head off."

"What would you know about it? All you do is give puppy dog eyes to Vanessa." Logan growls, "Too scared to make the first move, bub?"

"Hey, I shared that with you in a moment of vulnerability." Wade groans

"You shared that after you chain-smoked three joints and did a line of cocaine." Logan reminds him

"Yeah, that was nice." Wade sighs, "I'm just saying, you, kitty cat, are bolder than bold, going after a girl that could literally blow your head off your body."

"I'm not going after anyone," Logan says, standing up no longer interested in babbling with Wade.

"Yeah, alright." Wade snorts

The upbeat tune of September by Earth, Wind & Fire has you half-deaf as you dance with Vanessa. The intense body heat of everyone else around you was almost too much as Wade suddenly appeared. In the colorful light, his toupee almost looked real.

"I fucking love this song!" He declares, wrapping a big arm around Vanessa.

Your eyes dart back to where he came from. The table was now unoccupied, minus the empty glasses of your drinks.

"Where's Logan?" You half yell

"Stumbled off to the bar. I think I made too many dick jokes!" Wade responds

You deliver a harsh slap to his chest which has Wade letting out a faux whine of pain.

"Only blue talk and love, remember. How we knew love was here to stay!!"

Wade's off-beat singing has you groaning and Vanessa laughing. They truly were a good match for each other.

You push your way through the crowd of people as you grow closer to the bar. The alcohol in your system had you a bit overconfident as you got closer to him. Perhaps you could convince him to come out to dance with the group. You get closer to him, his small tufts of brown hair unmistakable as he stands at the bar and nurses a drink.

"Oh come on? Not even one dance? I'm a great dancer, y'know."

The vixenish voice of a stranger fills your ears when you finally get close. A tall blonde in a bright red dress was hanging off Logan's arm, her chest pressed into his bicep as she batted fake eyelashes at him.

"Not interested." Logan sighs

You watch the interaction occur. You'd never really seen Logan interact with anyone outside of the apartment.

"You sure?" She smiles, "I'll let you take me to the bathroom when we're done."

Your eyes widen when she leans in and gently bites at Logan's ear lobe. The alcohol has filled you with liquid courage as you close the distance between you and this mystery woman.

"Fuck off." You say to her, "There won't be any mystery trips to the bathroom. Go find another dick to suck."

She turns her head to her and you expect her to ridicule you. Perhaps even call you a bitch for interrupting whatever seduction technique she had going.

"Look at you." She coos, letting go of Logan.

Before you can even process what's happening, she's in your personal space, hands running through your hair and down your body, coming to rest on your waist.

"And I thought he was the finest thing in the club tonight." She smiles, "Have you ever been with another woman?"

Logan slams his now-empty drink onto the bar as you whip your head to him.

"She's not interested. Neither am I." Logan growls

A pout appears on her face but she takes a hint and stumbles off into the crowd, off to find another sucker.

"She wanted both of us." You breathe in shock

"Can't blame her," Logan says quickly

"What?" You look up at him, embarrassed when his eyes are trained on your skimpy dress.

"Nothin', bub." He says with a cough, "Where's the idiot?"

You point to the dance floor where you left Wade and Vanessa. Your eyes widen when you see the two of them making out under the neon lights of the club.

"Looks like we're going home without them." Logan sighs, you're sure you can hear a hint of disgust in his tone.

"Yeah." You sigh, leaning against the bar next to him, "They're cute together though."

"You're nicer when you're drunk." Logan points out, not interested in agreeing with your statement.

"I can still be mean." You say looking over at him, thinking about insulting that stupid face of his

Logan raises his hands in surrender, "I'm good."

The rest of the night is a blur. At some point, Vanessa finds you and whispers into your ear that she and Wade are leaving together. You stay by Logan's side, tired of dancing. Logan has somehow talked you into trying a drink out of your comfort zone and now a martini that takes like gasoline is in front of you.

"Swallow it!" Logan commands next to you over the music.

In the back of your mind, a joke about blow jobs bounces around. It never comes out though because the drink is burning your throat as it goes down.

"That is disgusting." You groan

"It's not that fruity shit you like." Logan laughs as he looks at your face that's pinched together in disgust.

"Not my fault all the drinks you like taste like an old man's bath water."

"Hey." Logan gently nudges you in annoyance.

"Can we go home?" You ask him suddenly

"You sure you're ready?" Logan responded, "Thought you loved to dance?"

"I do, but," You glance down at your feet which are still in your heels, "My feet feel like they're going to fall off my body."

Logan shakes his head with a laugh, "Alright, we can go home."

Logan settles the tab and then leads you out of the club into the cool October air. You're a bit drunker than you thought you were as you lean against a telephone pole, waiting for an Uber to show up. You cross your arms across your chest as a breeze blows by.

"You alright?" Logan asks

"Fine." You mumble

Logan's eyes scan your body as he takes in your drunken shivering form. He rolls his eyes but shrugs off his jacket anyway. Don't girls ever think about bringing jackets with them?

"Thank you." You softly say as he drops it over your shoulders

"Don't mention it." Logan sighs

He glances down at his phone. Where the hell was this Uber?

"Logan look!" You gasp

He follows your pointed arm to see a stray cat, digging through a trash can.

"Here kitty!" You exclaim, leaving your spot by by the telephone to try to go after the cat that looks even meaner than you were when sober.

"No, stop." Logan sighs, reaching to grab you by the arm, "That cat doesn't want anything to do with you."

You deliver a hard punch to his side when the cat runs off. How was it his fault that the cat got scared?

"Just stand there and wait for our ride." He orders, his phone says ten minutes away.

A beat of silence passes as you actually listen to him for once. And then, your mouth is opening again.

"Let's go get Taco Bell." You declare

"What?" Logan mumbles

Before he knows it, you're in the street, moving faster than he thought you could in those shoes. Your destination? The Taco Bell a few hundred feet away. Whoever put it across from the club must be making a killing of all the drunk people.

Logan can feel his anger simmer but he pushes it back down as he catches up with you.

"I need to get you a leash." He says as he makes sure you don't get hit by a car.

"Kinky." You laugh as you pull the door to the fast food restaurant open

You place your order and then tell him to get something for himself. He shakes his head at the annoyed-looking employee.

"He'll have a Crunchwrap." You say confidently like you know his Taco Bell order.

"I don't want one," Logan says

"You're a big guy, you need to eat." You say

Logan sighs but doesn't object. His stomach is grumbling a bit. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet but is stopped by your smaller hand wrapping around his wrist.

"Cut the Sugar Daddy act." You say plainly

Logan's eyes widen as you pull a twenty out of, well, your boobs and hand it to the girl behind the counter. He's not sure how she takes that without disgust. Was it a secret girl code? Boob money?

One Crunchwrap, two classic soft tacos, and a Baja Blast later, he finally has you in the Uber, munching on your food. He doesn't want to admit it, but the greasy food tastes like heaven as he swallows it. It must've been all the alcohol in his system.

You're somehow even drunker as he gets you up the many flights of steps and into the apartment. He tries to shush you and you nearly fall onto your face when he opens the door.

Logan can't tell if it was a good idea to come along for this outing. At least you weren't drunk and alone.

He watches as you flop down onto the couch and begin to pull at your impractical shoes. He sighs and kneels down in front of you, taking your foot in his hand. He curses the little buckle that keeps the heels on you and your giggle fills his ears.

"C'mon time for bed." He says pulling you up.

He leaves you in the bathroom, under strict instructions to brush your teeth as he sneaks into your room, careful not to wake Laura who fell asleep with her headphones on. He rummages through your clothes looking for pajamas. His hands reach for the top drawer of your dresser and Laura's voice has him freezing.

"Third drawer down. That one's got her underwear."

Logan swears his face is redder than Wade's fucking suit as he thanks Laura, blindly pulling a t-shirt and shorts for you to wear.

Back in the bathroom, he's pleased to find you actually brushing your teeth.

"Get changed," Logan says putting the the clothes onto the counter.

You spit in the sink and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when you wiggle out of that damn dress and drop it to the floor. He finds himself spinning around to face the wall, pretending like he didn't see nearly all of you. You had gone out all night without a bra? He could hardly believe it.

"Don't cream your pants." You snicker as he blushes

"Time for bed." You sigh, trying to walk by him.

"Hold on." He grabs you by the waist, spinning you around to face him, "You gotta take that shit off."

"You mean my face?" You ask so dumbly he nearly laughs.

"The makeup." He rolls his eyes

"Ughhh but I want to go to bed." You groan like a child

"Ten minutes ago you asked the driver to take you to Costco so you could get free samples." He raises an eyebrow at your sudden tiredness.

"And now I want to go to bed." You declare

He sighs and quickly picks you up, placing you on the bathroom counter with ease.

"Hey!" You scold, swatting at his hands when he lets them drift too far down towards your ass.

He swears he didn't mean it...He'd never do something perverted like that.

"Stay still." Logan orders, rummaging around in the makeup bag you kept under the sink.

He comes back up with makeup wipes and begins to gently clean your face. It's domestic bliss as he watches your eyes flutter shut under his touch. He feels his heart squeeze as he thinks of the last time he did this for his version of you. It felt like it had been a thousand years since life felt that simple, a life with you in it.

"You're good at this." You sigh, fully relaxed under his hands

"I've had practice." He replies, wiping the dark eyeshadow from your face. You're so much prettier like this, he knows he can't say that out loud though so he holds it in.

"What happened to her?" You ask suddenly

"Don't wanna talk about it." He says

"C'mon. I thought we were supposed to be bonding." You groan

Logan looks at you. You still look utterly wasted, he doubts you'll even remember this tomorrow morning so he decides to throw you a bone.

"I uh...I left her. Ran off like I always do." He sighs tiredly, "She went after me. Tried to convince me to stay with her."

"That's all?" You drunkenly ask

"Drunk myself stupid at some bar and then when I finally grew the balls to go back, it was too late. Humans went mutant hunting and I came back to her and the whole team dead." He said, his eyes fixed on the tiled floor. And even though he had made his peace with it all, he hated thinking about how he failed you.

In front of him, you slowly nod, "At least you know she loved you."

"Doesn't do me much good now. Besides I never got to tell her my own feelings, so why does it even matter?" He grumbles as you open your eyes to look at him. He can't help the way his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Perhaps there's a chance for a do-over in this new life of his. You're right here, a new you is sitting right here in front of him.

"My Logan hated me."

"Was it that star personality of yours?" He finds himself joking, trying to cover up his previous thoughts. He thought about the many fights the two of you had gotten into. He thanked the gods the alcohol was mellowing you out now.

"He was a piece of shit." You glare at him.

Logan raised an eyebrow, wondering what this man had done. Perhaps it was the source of your foul mood towards him now. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was the opposite of whatever he had with his universe's you.

"What'd he do?" He finds himself asking, genuinely curious.

"What didn't he do?" You scoff, glaring at him like he was the cause of your anger.

Logan nods slowly. Perhaps trying to get you to spill your secrets while drunk wasn't the best idea.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He assures

You catch his hand that was moving the wipe down the bridge of your nose.

"I was stupid really." You whisper, "I got attached to an asshole who only had eyes for Jean Grey. He used me to get her attention off of Scott."

Logan lets out a small hum of acknowledgment as he drops the wipe into the sink and lets his hands fall to your thighs. He gently rubs circles over the skin that your sleep shorts leave exposed to his greedy eyes.

"I should've known better, I guess. I mean shit, I agreed to it all being casual when he asked. " You sigh, ""S' my own fault I ended up heartbroken."

You look down at your lap where his hands still rest on your thighs. He can feel the sadness pouring off of you as you speak again,

"I got caught up in a stupid dream, and thought I might've had a chance at calling him mine."

Logan is surprised to see tears falling down your face. He can't help but give into the instinct that's screaming at him, the one to comfort you and chase your sadness away. The tears are hot and land on his hands as he gently hooks a finger under your chin, making you lock those teary eyes with his.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" He asks, "Don't cry for some asshole."

You sniffle again and a fresh wave comes out and runs down your pretty face, "Sometimes, I don't know what's wrong with me. M' always going after the wrong guy."

"Let me tell you something," Logan softly smiles at you, "You are, quite possibly, the most annoying person I've ever encountered."

You let out a scoff followed by half a hiccup, "Thanks, Logan."

"Let me finish, hon," He says, "Even the most annoying version of you doesn't deserve something like that. Y'gotta let that asshole go. There's plenty of other guys out there."

A soft silence beats between the two of you as you nod and let a few more warm tears trickle down your cheeks.

"Still crying?" He smiles

"I can't stop. There's something wrong with me." You laugh a bit

Logan gently runs a thumb over your face, brushing the tears away. It's a familiar gesture, one he used to do often for you.

"What other guys are there? And don't you dare say, Wade." You say, your face serious

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system but Logan tosses his head back and laughs, "You're too good for Wade. Besides he'd drive you nuts."

"He already does." You admit

His own name is on the tip of his tongue. He knows he'd be crazy to say it to you, so he doesn't. You didn't deserve to be burdened with whatever stupid feelings he had towards you. Why should you get stuck with him after you escaped that prick from your universe, everyone deserved a clean slate, even you. Whatever it was he felt would go away eventually. At least he hoped they would.

"Can we go to bed now?" You ask, "Before Al wakes up and tries to shoot us with that gun she keeps in her bedside drawer."

"Course we can." Logan nods, helping you jump off the counter.

He lets you lean on him a bit as you stumble down the hall, still woozy. He slowly pushes your door open, and he knows its self-indulgent but before he lets you go, he presses his lips to your forehead.

He can tell you're flustered by it but you remain silent as you look up at him.

You catch him off guard and gently press your lips to his cheek, "Goodnight, Logan."

"Goodnight," Logan says, hoping the darkness hides the boyish smile that certainly is playing on his lips.

He can't believe that just happened.

Part Four

I'd like to think secretly the Wolverine from the newest movie is a big softie. Like did you see the way he smiled at Wade when he introduced him to Blind Al? He's just a slightly emo, soft-hearted guy.

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[wolvietxt]

★ cozy mornings with logan

you woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside, sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. stretching out, you turned over, half-expecting logan to still be asleep, but the other side of the bed was empty. that wasn’t unusual. he was always up early, starting his day before the sun even fully rose.

what was unusual was the smell coming from the kitchen. a mix of coffee, something sweet, and something cooking. sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and smiled softly. logan wasn’t much of a breakfast person—usually, it was coffee and maybe a quick snack before he headed out—but the smell of whatever was in the kitchen was unmistakably homemade. curious, you slipped out of bed and padded quietly down the hall.

when you reached the kitchen, you found him there, standing by the stove with his back to you. the sight made your heart warm a little. he was wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt, but his hair was still a bit mussed, like he hadn’t even bothered to fix it after getting up. his movements were careful as he flipped something in the pan, and you couldn’t help but smile at how focused he looked.

“morning,” you called softly, leaning against the doorway.

logan turned, eyebrows raising slightly. “you’re up.” his voice was low, that familiar gravelly tone still soft from the early hour. “i was gonna bring this to you.”

“bring it to me?” you teased, stepping closer. “since when do you make breakfast?”

he huffed, turning back to the stove. “since now, apparently.” there was a small stack of pancakes already sitting on the counter, along with a pot of coffee and some fresh fruit.

“smells amazing,” you said, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. he didn’t stop what he was doing, but you felt him lean back into you a little. “what’s the occasion?”

“no occasion,” he muttered, flipping the last pancake before turning off the stove. “just… figured i’d do something nice.”

the simplicity of his answer made you smile even more. it wasn’t like logan to go out of his way for things like this. he showed affection in different ways, quieter ways—like checking to make sure you were safe or silently offering you his jacket when you were cold. but cooking breakfast? that was new.

“you’re sweet, you know that?” you said softly, your cheek pressing against his back as you hugged him a little tighter.

he scoffed. “yeah, well… don’t get used to it.”

but you knew he didn’t mean it. you could feel the warmth radiating from him, could tell by the way his muscles relaxed under your touch that he liked this, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“come on,” he said, brushing your arms off him gently as he moved to plate the pancakes. “sit down. i made coffee too.”

you laughed quietly, taking a seat at the small kitchen table as he brought everything over. the pancakes were stacked high, golden brown and fluffy, and the coffee was already poured in your favorite mug. “you really went all out,” you said, still a little surprised by the effort he’d put in.

“figured you’d like it,” he shrugged, sitting down across from you with his own plate. “you deserve a good breakfast.”

the sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat. you reached across the table, your hand covering his for a moment, and he gave it a small squeeze before pulling away, already cutting into his food.

the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that only comes from being completely at ease with each other. every now and then, logan would glance up at you, making sure you were enjoying what he’d made, but he didn’t need to ask. you were more than happy.

“these are incredible,” you said around a mouthful of pancake. “who knew you could cook?”

he smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “don’t expect this every morning.”

“oh, i know. this is a rare treat.” you grinned, kicking his foot lightly under the table. “but i appreciate it.”

he didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, his smirk softening into something almost like a smile. after a few minutes, he finished eating and leaned back in his chair, watching you polish off the last bite.

“you always do this,” he said suddenly.

you raised an eyebrow. “do what?”

“eat like you haven’t had a decent meal in days.” there was a hint of amusement in his voice, but also something else—something soft and affectionate.

you laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “well, it was really good. what can i say?”

he huffed again, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he stood and grabbed both your plates, setting them in the sink. “you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, shaking his head. “c’mon. let’s go sit outside for a bit.”

you followed him out to the porch, where the early morning sun was just starting to warm the air. you sat beside him, leaning into his shoulder, and he let out a quiet sigh, wrapping an arm around you.

“don’t get used to this either,” he grumbled softly, but you could feel how content he was, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he held you close.

“don’t worry,” you teased, snuggling into him. “i’ll take what i can get.”

and there you stayed, wrapped up in each other as the morning unfolded quietly around you.

general taglist : @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @k1t-k4ts, @icurushasfallen, @eddxemxnson, @nickiinator

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@cloudcandyala, @v3lv3tf0x, @california-boys-and-sun, @harleyyquinnsgf, @lemoanaid

@notacleangirl, @jabberwokee, @aetherthetrashpanda, @schrodingersjigsaw, @sylaswrites

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[rafesapologist]

strangers ─ drew starkey; ch. 1

summary: getting casted on outer banks threw you into overnight stardom, and an unforeseeable off-screen romance with one of hollywood's newest and biggest heartthrobs.

warnings: nothing yet, just not proof read fully

author's note: i want to preface that i was heavily influenced by karen x graham from daisy jones and the six (iykyk) as well as chase and madelyn's irl relationship for this story. i'm really excited for you guys to read this and as usual, if you'd like to be on the taglist please let me know!

You couldn’t sit still, fingers twisting the hem of your shirt while your knee bounced uncontrollably in the backseat of the rented SUV. The soft hum of the engine only amplified your restlessness. Your eyes flickered around, catching glimpses of palm trees and blurred tourists through the tinted windows—offering a momentary shield from the unforgiving Los Angeles sun and the bustling crowds beyond.

“How are you feeling?” Kendra, your manager, chimed in from beside you, her smile perfectly in place, glossy lips forming a curve that felt rehearsed.

You forced a chuckle, though it barely masked the pounding in your chest. “Just a little nervous, that’s all.” The words came out flat, a thin veil over the tension twisting inside you.

Kendra gave your leg a quick pat, her reassurance as smooth as ever. “Nothing to worry about. You’ve already nailed the hardest part—the audition. A chemistry read? That’s a breeze in comparison.” Her voice was soothing, but her focus never left the phone in her hand, the gesture feeling mechanical—like a line delivered without thought.

Auditioning for the show had been a gamble, and the stakes felt even higher now. You were still a relative unknown, and Outer Banks wasn’t just any show—it was the show. A streaming giant. You’d almost declined when the offer came, the weight of its success pressing down like an invisible hand. But here you were, convinced by the right mix of encouragement and blind hope, about to see if that gamble would pay off.

"You just need to go in there and feed off your co-star’s energy. Whatever emotion they’re giving you, absorb it and give it right back," your manager instructed, her voice firm as her eyes finally lifted from her phone. She leaned forward slightly, her hand resting on your arm as if to ground you, while the SUV glided through the final stretch of traffic. The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, matched only by the tension in your chest. The destination loomed closer, visible just beyond the tinted windows, and her gaze locked on you, expectant and unwavering, as if her will alone could push you over the finish line.

“Got it,” you replied, forcing another thin-lipped smile—polite yet distant, as if dismissing her with the same gesture. Your attempt to stay cordial was barely masking your desire for space. Just then, your heart gave a hard thud, perfectly timed with the jolt of the SUV rolling over the first speed bump in the studio parking lot. The looming reality hit you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs, as the building came into full view. Each second that passed only deepened the pit in your stomach, the dreadful weight of what was to come pressing harder.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the driver, slipping a small cash tip across the center console as your manager was already halfway out of the SUV. It was a quiet gesture of appreciation, a way to acknowledge the small but crucial role he’d played in getting you there, to this moment. He turned, offering you a kind, knowing smile before you stepped out, gently closing the door behind you. As you straightened your skirt, you couldn’t help but stare up at the building in front of you, its towering stature appearing overhead.

Kendra strode ahead, confidently leading the way as she pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside. Though her presence could be demanding and stern, in that moment it offered a small but necessary comfort amid the unfamiliar sea of faces that now surrounded you. The room quieted as you entered, and a dozen pairs of eyes turned in your direction, their stares heavy and intense, making you feel small under the weight of their scrutiny. You forced a smile—thin but polite—trying to seem more outgoing than you felt, hoping to project the right impression even as your nerves simmered beneath the surface.

“Well, look who it is—the girl of the hour! Y/N! So nice to see you again,” an unfamiliar voice rang out, though the man’s face sparked a vague sense of recognition, likely from the audition. He stood up, extending his hand with a broad smile that was meant to put you at ease.

"Hello," you replied warmly, masking the swirl of anxiety inside as you shook his hand, maintaining a steady grip. “Thank you again for allowing me this far into the audition process. I’m very grateful.” Your voice remained poised, calm, even though your insides felt like they were twisting into knots.

Your manager’s approval resonated softly behind you, a gentle hum of reassurance as she watched the exchange unfold. “I’m not sure if I introduced myself properly last time we met. My name is Jonah; I’m the director for the show,” he said, his voice rich and authoritative, each word heavy with expectation. A lump formed in your throat, the gravity of his presence amplifying the stakes, pressing down like a lead weight.

“Today, we’re going to have you do a chemistry read with who will be your love interest on the show.” His words hung in the air like a charged whisper, and your eyes widened, disbelief swirling within you. The truth struck with the force of a summer storm; you hadn’t fully grasped the role awaiting you until now.

The thought of embodying someone’s love interest sent a ripple of exhilaration and fear through your veins, making your stomach tumble as if caught in a tempest. Would it be a playful spark, filled with laughter and fleeting glances, or a brooding romance, steeped in longing and tension?

You nodded, a practiced motion that belied the ball of anxiety swirling within. Each beat of your heart echoed the dread tightening in your stomach, the sensation bubbling up like a restless tide. The thought of being paired with one of the actors to portray a romance on-screen sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the lump in your throat aside, your gaze flickering around the room, desperate for any hint of who your co-star might be. Each unfamiliar face felt like a potential source of scrutiny, and the air thickened with tension as you scanned the room, searching for clues amidst the sea of strangers.

“Okay!” Jonah clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and authoritative, breaking the taut silence that had settled. “Let’s get Drew out here.” His voice rang out, clear and commanding, drawing every eye to the door, where a buzz of anticipation rippled through the room. You felt the air shift, charged with expectation, as if the very walls were leaning in to hear who would step through that doorway.

A wave of heat washed over you at the sound of his name, igniting a fire of recognition deep within. You had seen him countless times in glossy magazines and flickering screens, caught glimpses of him at film festivals where the air buzzed with admiration, yet never had your paths crossed until now. Though he wasn’t the biggest name yet, he was a force—a powerful actor whose presence resonated through the industry like a distant thunderstorm.

As the thought of sharing the screen with him settled in your mind, your heart fluttered, a nervous bird trapped in a cage of anticipation. How could you possibly keep pace with someone whose talent seemed to flow effortlessly, whose performances were a masterclass in emotion? Doubt began to coil around your thoughts, tightening like a vine, each tendril whispering fears of inadequacy.

The room felt like a distant echo, the chatter of voices fading into a soft hum as you waited for him to enter. Your heart raced, a wild thump that reverberated through your chest, each pulse a reminder of the anticipation coursing through your veins. The other directors and screenwriters settled back into their seats, alongside your manager, their eyes fixed on you like an audience eager for the first act to begin.

Just as you began to drown in the weight of their stares, the atmosphere shifted, the air charged with electric anticipation. The door creaked open, and time seemed to stretch, every second hanging heavy. Your gaze snapped toward the sound, and your throat tightened as a tall, brooding figure stepped into the room. His presence filled the space, his stature both commanding and slightly intimidating.

For a brief moment, your mind went blissfully blank, as if time had paused to let the reality of him sink in. He moved with an effortless grace, each step purposeful as he greeted the group at the table, his voice smooth and resonant. You could see Jonah nodding in acknowledgment, and then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, he turned his gaze toward you.

Suddenly, he was there, standing before you, and the air between you felt impossibly thick, heavy with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The moment was alive with a sense of anticipation, the unknown curling around you like smoke. You straightened your posture instinctively, trying to summon every ounce of composure, as if by holding yourself steady, you could convince the room—and yourself—that this was effortless, that you weren’t rattled by the sheer gravity of the encounter.

With a smooth, fluid motion, Drew extended his hand, the gesture both graceful and commanding, his fingers outstretched with a quiet confidence that spoke of experience beyond his years. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Drew,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft, a gentle warmth woven into the words that caught you off guard. His tone was far kinder than you’d imagined, the kind of voice that could lull a room into ease.

As you reached out to meet his handshake, his touch was firm yet light, grounding yet unassuming, and in that brief connection, the world around you seemed to pause. The noise of the room, the watching eyes, the weight of your nerves—all of it faded, if only for a heartbeat. His presence was commanding but not overwhelming, his demeanor holding the delicate balance between strength and gentleness.

"Hello," you replied, your voice lifting an octave higher than usual, a subtle attempt to come across as feminine, poised. "I'm Y/N." As his hand met yours, your attention flickered to the way his fingers moved—effortlessly, fluidly—sending a tremor through your chest. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, your pulse quickening under the gentle but assured pressure of his grip.

You couldn’t ignore how small you felt beneath his towering presence. The realization that you had to tilt your head slightly just to meet his eyes made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. His height, his frame—it all made the space between you feel charged, his presence simultaneously grounding and intimidating.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said again, his voice smooth as honey, the warmth in his eyes unwavering. His gaze was soft, kind, a contradiction to the commanding figure he cut. You could feel his energy, an unspoken ease radiating from him, as if he could sense the nerves bubbling beneath your surface.

"If you're feeling nervous or uncomfortable at any point, just let me know," he added, his voice dropping lower, as though he were shielding his words from the watchful eyes of the casting directors around you. "But I'm sure you've got this." His tone was gentle, reassuring, his words slipping through the space between you with a quiet confidence.

You nodded quietly at his gesture, a soft acknowledgment of his awareness and kindness, the unspoken "thank you" hanging between you. Before you could find any words to respond, one of the casting crew approached, handing each of you a script for the audition. The weight of the paper felt heavier than it should, the magnitude of the moment settling in deeper.

Chemistry reads had never been your strong suit, not in the brief time you’d been working in this industry. And this? This felt like a leap into a whole new realm, with expectations looming over you. Your eyes flicked down to the script, scanning the lines with the practiced speed of someone used to absorbing words as if they were lifelines. You read them once, then twice, allowing the emotions on the page to sink in and swirl around your mind, even as the undercurrent of nerves made it harder to focus.

Drew stood calmly in front of you, his presence steadying but no less overwhelming. You could feel his quiet confidence as he glanced through his own lines. The room was still, save for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional murmur from the casting team in the background. You straightened your back, holding onto every ounce of composure you could muster, and waited for the director’s cue.

"Alright, you may begin whenever you're ready," Jonah announced, his soft smile doing little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. His eyes flickered between you and Drew, expectant, watching for the magic to unfold. As his words sank in, a queasy wave rolled through your stomach, the weight of the moment pressing harder against your nerves. There was no turning back now—any hesitation would be a glaring failure, something that could follow you like a shadow in this unforgiving industry. The thought of being blackballed clawed at your mind, and you suddenly longed to disappear, to slip into a place where eyes weren’t always watching.

But before you could let the panic take hold, Drew stepped into the moment, his voice cutting through the tension like a lifeline. He began his lines effortlessly, the words rolling off his tongue as though they belonged to him, his presence filling the room with a quiet confidence. It was as if he had taken command of the space, a seasoned professional steering the scene with ease.

As if possessed by his character, Rafe, Drew dove into his lines with raw intensity. "Maisy, I care about you. But I-I can't risk it. I would never forgive myself if I got you involved in my mess and you got hurt because of it." His hand trembled slightly, betraying the emotion he was drawing from deep within. He pointed to his chest with a shaky finger, his voice quivering just enough to feel real, to pull at the heartstrings. His head hung low, the weight of sorrow written across his face, his entire presence drenched in regret.

You stood there, momentarily in awe of his transformation. The way he embodied Rafe with such vulnerability fueled your own performance, making it impossible not to feel the emotions he was radiating. It lit a fire within you, urging you to dive into the scene, to match the depth he was offering.

"Rafe," you spoke, your voice slipping into the soft, pleading tone of Maisy, letting the character take over your body as effortlessly as breathing. The words trembled on your lips, each one laced with a quiet desperation. "I don’t care what happens to me. I just want to be with you. Don’t… don’t do this."

You shook your head slowly, your movements measured, deliberate, as you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Your hand reached out, grazing his cheek, the tender contact filled with unspoken emotion. As if on cue, tears welled in your eyes, the sting of them amplifying the moment. You gazed up at him, your expression filled with a mixture of pain and hope, as if you were begging not just for Maisy’s life, but for everything she believed in. It was a skill you prided yourself on—channeling emotion so deeply that it felt like it bled from your very soul, and in this moment, you were no longer yourself. You were Maisy, standing on the edge of heartbreak.

Drew’s eyes, glossy with unshed tears, locked onto yours, his sorrow so palpable it seemed to seep into the air between you. His hands ran through his hair in frustration, fingers gripping the ends as if trying to hold himself together. He began to pace, his movements restless, the emotional weight in his voice thick and raw.

"You don’t get it, Maisy," he started, his voice breaking with a mix of frustration and pain. "Everything I’ve ever cared about in my life has abandoned me. I’ve never had anybody who cares about me like you do. I love you so much that it hurts—it hurts me," he cried, pressing a trembling finger into his chest, the gesture full of anguish. His blue eyes, once so calm, were now brimming with tears that slipped down his face, streaking his cheeks as he stood there, vulnerable in a way that left him utterly exposed.

"I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you," he continued, his voice cracking, "but I have to protect you, even if that means letting you go." His brows furrowed deeply, his entire expression twisted in agony, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as though, in that moment, Rafe was no longer a character—he was real, and the pain etched on his face was authentic, an outpouring of emotions he couldn’t contain.

But you didn’t miss a beat. Despite the intensity of his performance, you held steady, the emotions boiling within you just as fierce. "You can’t make that decision for me, Rafe," you pleaded, your voice rising with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Your hands flew into the air as if surrendering to the chaos of the moment.

"If I get hurt, that’s on me. I knew the risk of being with you, and I don’t care!" Your words spilled out with conviction, each one wrapped in the weight of Maisy’s determination. "Nothing is going to make me leave." Your voice was firm but edged with vulnerability, the sternness in your tone undercut by the undeniable pain that flickered beneath. You stood there, watching him, as if your very heart was on the line, a pitiful sort of strength anchoring you in place, demanding that he listen—that he understand.

"Being with you is worth it all," you added softly, your voice tinged with a raw desperation that could only come from someone who had lived through heartbreak. The vulnerability in your tone wrapped itself around the moment, thickening the air between you. Drew’s blue eyes, glossy with emotion, flickered between yours as if he were trying to decode the tragedy etched in your expression. It was as though, in that fleeting silence, his heart was breaking too, caught in the moment of the scene you were creating together.

Then, without warning, his large hands cupped your face, his touch sending warmth rushing to your cheeks. His palms, rough yet tender, cradled your skin, and for a moment, the world outside the scene seemed to vanish. "Promise me you won't go anywhere," he pleaded, his voice trembling with the same desperate intensity that mirrored your own. The emotion in his words was so intense, it felt as if the two of you were teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

"I promise, Rafe," you reassured him, your voice soft but unwavering, a soothing balm to the storm brewing in the room. Despite the emotional intensity, you held steady, grounding both of you in the moment.

For a brief second, the world paused. There was silence—a sacred, fragile quiet—allowing the vulnerability between you to speak louder than any dialogue could. The casting crew sat in rapt attention, witnessing the depth you had both drawn from. Drew’s thumb gently grazed your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, as though he couldn’t bear to break the connection. The moment was electric, heavy with meaning, as if you were no longer acting but living the characters’ truths.

"I won’t let anything happen to you, alright? I swear on my life," he vowed, his voice deep and resolute, yet drenched in emotion and passion. His words hit like a surge of energy, drawing you in, making your heart skip in response. There was something in the way he spoke that made it feel real, as if this promise wasn't just for Maisy, but for you too.

You nodded up at him, chest heaving as you breathed in the weight of the moment, each inhale heavy with the raw intensity of the scene. It felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you, emotions pulsing between your bodies like a silent current, your heart racing to keep up. You weren’t acting anymore—every word felt lived, every gesture steeped in the desperation and love your characters clung to. The air between you and Drew hummed, alive with the electricity of shared vulnerability, a fragile bond that tethered you both to this moment.

Then, like a sharp crack in the stillness, a clap echoed through the room. The spell shattered instantly, the delicate tension that had built between you dissolving as reality rushed back in.

"That was incredible," Jonah’s voice broke through the haze, his head shaking in awe, a grin of disbelief spreading across his face. "The chemistry between you two is beautiful." His words were thick with praise, and you couldn’t help but glance over at Drew, a faint smile teasing the edges of your lips. The connection you’d forged in those few minutes lingered, a quiet understanding that neither of you spoke aloud.

"I think we’ve seen enough," Jonah continued, his tone final yet filled with certainty. "I think you’d be perfect as Maisy."

The world around you stilled, sound fading into a distant hum as his words sank in. Your heart seemed to pause, suspended in disbelief, before it raced forward, pounding against your chest like a wild drum. It was as if time itself had slowed, every second stretching out as the magnitude of what he’d said enveloped you.

"Oh my God, thank you!" The words burst from your lips, a mix of breathless excitement and overwhelming gratitude. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink as joy flooded through you, warmth spreading through your body in waves. It was impossible to contain the wide, radiant smile that broke across your face. The world blurred around you, your focus narrowing to this single, life-altering moment. You felt lighter, as though all the doubts and fears you’d carried had evaporated into thin air.

Your eyes darted between Jonah and Drew, the weight of their gazes making everything feel real—so achingly real. You had done it. You had stepped into the role, not just as Maisy, but as someone who had finally claimed their place in the world.

"You did great," Drew said, his smile wide and genuine, a warm glow in his eyes that radiated excitement. You could feel his energy wrapping around you, a comforting embrace that mirrored your own joy. As your smile blossomed, his grew in tandem.

Your manager beamed, clapping along with the group of directors, her expression a blend of pride and exhilaration that you had never witnessed before. The room buzzed with energy, each person caught up in the moment of celebration.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity," you replied, your voice a melody of gratitude, bubbling up from within. "I won’t let you down." You stepped forward, reaching for Jonah’s hand, your heart fluttering with excitement as you shook his hand firmly. It was a gesture of gratitude, a promise of your commitment, and you felt a rush of warmth at the connection—a shared understanding that this was just the beginning.

You moved down the line, shaking hands with the rest of the crew, each grip solid and reassuring. Their smiles met yours, each one a testament to the hard work and passion that had brought you to this moment. In those brief exchanges, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of belonging and purpose that ignited a fire within you.

You made your way back to Drew, and to your surprise, he enveloped you in a hug that spoke volumes, his arms wrapping around you in a warmth that felt both comforting and exhilarating. "Congratulations," he murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle melody that resonated in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The embrace lingered, a moment suspended in time, before he pulled back, his smile radiating a bright, infectious joy that lit up the room.

"Thank you. You were awesome, by the way. I'm excited to work with you," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips, raw and unfiltered, yet undeniably true.

Drew chuckled, a rich sound that sent a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he nodded, "Likewise," he replied, adding a playful wink that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. In that fleeting exchange, the connection deepened, an unspoken promise of collaboration and creativity.

Turning towards your manager, you embraced her, feeling the solid weight of her pride enveloping you like a soft cloak. She returned the hug with a firm pat on your back, her touch both grounding and uplifting. "You did great, kid. I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion, wrapping around you like a warm embrace on a chilly day.

You left the studio with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything you had ever experienced before, a buoyant feeling that danced in your chest like a flame ignited by success. The joy radiating off your manager only amplified your triumph, her excitement palpable, like the warm glow of the sun on your skin.

As you slipped into the black SUV parked outside, a smile crept onto your face, blossoming with every heartbeat. The vehicle felt like a cocoon, enveloping you in a new sense of pride, a sanctuary that held the promise of new beginnings.

Your manager, brimming with enthusiasm, quickly dialed your agency, her voice animated as she relayed the news of your audition triumph. You could hear her words spill forth like a rushing river, each syllable a testament to your hard work and dedication.

As you absorbed your newfound outlook on life, the sunny L.A. sky seemed to sparkle with an ethereal clarity, its azure expanse stretching endlessly above you like an artist’s canvas, brushed with hues of hope and possibility. The golden rays cascaded down, bathing the city in a warm embrace, each glimmer igniting your spirit as if the universe itself were celebrating your triumph alongside you. In that moment, it felt as though no force on earth could disrupt the intoxicating high that enveloped you, each breath filled with the sweet essence of achievement.

"You better get ready for tonight, 'cause we are celebrating on me!" your manager exclaimed, her voice a jubilant melody that danced through the air, weaving joy into the fabric of the day. Her enthusiasm sparkled like champagne bubbles, promising an evening alive with laughter and camaraderie.

With a smile stretching across your face, you realized that this was just the beginning. The night was a canvas yet to be painted, and you were the artist, ready to fill it with laughter, joy, and new memories.

And in that instant, you understood: you were no longer the girl who had once doubted herself. You were a force to be reckoned with, ready to embrace every opportunity that lay ahead. The chapter of uncertainty had closed, making way for a new narrative, one filled with passion, courage, and the promise of dreams finally taking flight.

And maybe even something more.

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 3 - Bolt

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Back again! I have split the final chapter into two parts as it makes more sense that way, you’ll see why when you read the last one – which hopefully I should be able to post later this week, or early next – I’m just working on getting it right. Warnings for angst, angst and angst in this part – sorry in advance. I felt a bit weepy writing this. I’ve been blown away by the support this story has received, especially as it was written on a bit of a whim, so thank-you for all your reblogs and comments – it means a lot!! Also shout-out to the recent Variety SebStan photoshoot - very inspirational...

💔

You were sleeping like the dead, it was a miracle that anything could’ve woken you – but the soft click of the hotel door opening must’ve cut through the void somehow, because you shot up in bed awake, disorientated and suddenly on alert. Your breathing was heavy as you adjusted to your surroundings. What…where were…?

Bucky gently closed the door behind him and rushed over to your bedside.

“Hey, hey…it’s just me, you’re okay doll. I’m sorry I startled you. I was trying to slip in quietly…” he cooed, “I thought knocking might be too jarring…stupidly…”

You blinked at him, you were just able to make out his face in the dark as recognition sunk in. His features were subtly illuminated by the parking lot lights, the room’s curtains doing little to keep that glare out. He looked tired and drained; his hair unkempt. There was a weariness in his face that you hadn’t seen before. You groggily flicked on the bedside lamp as your brain caught up with the rest of you.

For a blissful moment you’d forgotten it all, from the haze of sleep, you’d forgotten why you were here. Bucky! Bucky is here! Your safe place. You began to smile and instinctively moved towards him. He smiled too, a relieved smile, holding out a hand to you so you reached for it with your own –

Wait.

Oh.

You saw the hope in his eyes dwindle when you jerked away from him, a scowl hardening your expression as you whipped your hand back as quickly as if it had been burnt. You pulled the sheets high and tight, covering your body as if you didn’t like that any of you was visible to him.

As he tried to lean over to get closer to you, you greeted him with a blunt, hard slap across the face.

He recoiled, his hand moving to his stinging cheek as he stood up to his full height and stepped back, “fine. I deserved that…”

“What are you doing here?” you sneered, “How did you even get in?”

He tilted his head towards the door and held up a key card, “They let me in. They gave me a key”.

“Well, they shouldn’t have! They shouldn’t just give away door keys to random people…”

“They don’t, just me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, “You think this is funny?”

“Doll…” he reached out to you again, but you smacked his hand away.

“No,” you growled.

“I found out the truth…I know it wasn’t you. I’m so sor-” he sounded frantic, stuttering and jumbled, worlds away from the cool and collected man you knew so well. But you were unmoved, his betrayal still stinging and raw.

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your tone flat and cold, “it’s too late”.

“I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry, baby. I flew off the handle without talking to you. I should’ve trusted you…” he pleaded.

“Yes, you should’ve,” you snapped bitterly, “but you didn’t. You wouldn’t let me talk, you just shouted…then you threw me out with nothing! Like I was trash! I walked for nearly two miles alone in the dark, in the middle of the night, Bucky. Anything could’ve happened to me…” your voice wobbled slightly at the end of your sentence; you took a deep breath – refusing to let anymore tears fall for him.

He dipped his head, his gaze dropping, unable to look at you. “I know, you’re right…I keep thinking about it…I keep…”

“Save it!” you shouted, a little more emotional than you intended. “All I wanted was for you to listen to me. I don’t know anything about a recording, or my phone pinging, or whatever you were ranting about. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t believe me, after everything we’ve been through…”

He sighed heavily, then withdrew his phone from his pocket. He began to scroll through.

You scoffed, “what are you-”

And then your voice, clear as day, rang out from his phone. Bucky held it up towards you, his face pained. You listened, stunned, as you heard yourself on the recording. It was so real you almost considered that it was you, and you’d somehow forgotten that you’d actually said it.

“Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything…”

After it had finished, you furrowed your brows in confusion, your mouth hanging open.

“But that wasn’t…” you whispered.

“I know. I know that now,” he sighed, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Rumlow set it up. He put it together with cutting edge AI, some advanced tech Stark helped develop. He also planted fake footage of you on the CCTV. Took your phone to an incriminating location. But Sam caught him tonight. He’s been working with the feds to bring me down, to make room for a HYDRA revival. He knew I’d be weaker and easier to takedown if you and I fell apart, so breaking us up was a two-birds-one-stone deal”.

You blinked, bewildered, a chill running through you as you thought about the lengths someone would go to in order to break you and Bucky up. You knew a little about HYDRA, the rival syndicate that Bucky used to work for before he struck out on his own. They’d been defunct for years, or so Bucky had told you. The implication of someone being able to make your voice say anything they wanted also haunted you. Rumlow could’ve even framed you for a crime with such technology. It was…scary.

You could see why Bucky freaked out, presented with all of this incriminating evidence, but…

“Rumlow didn’t break us up, Bucky”, you said quietly as your words sharpened. “You did. You could’ve come to me first. You could’ve showed me this and we could’ve set everything straight. Instead…you went nuclear…”

He dropped his gaze again to the threadbare hotel carpet, unable to meet your eye. It was almost funny, he looked small for the first time since you’d met him. Despite his towering height and hulking frame, he almost seemed like a little boy in that moment.

“…I just can’t believe you thought I’d do something like that to you. That I’d betray you like that. That I could look you in the eye every day and lie to you and…”

He suddenly looked up, quickly snatching your hand, “I’m so sorry, doll, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made…I’d do anything to take it back…”

“Well you can’t!” you sniped back at him as you tore your hand away from his, tears in your eyes. “You must think so low of me that you think I’d be capable of this. And all the stuff you said about me leeching off you for your money! I’ve never been comfortable spending your cash and you know that! I can’t believe you’d throw it all back in my face…”

“Baby, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean of it. I was hurt…” he said, the desperation building in his voice as his eyes widened, “I was just trying to hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. I didn’t really think it. I never have”.

“It must’ve come from somewhere!” you spat venomously, “you didn’t pull it out of thin air…”

“I promise. I was just throwing words out and didn’t care what they were as long as they hit. I just was so mad,” he sat down on the bed and began running his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes, he always did that when he was stressed.

He sighed heavily, then turned to you, “Look”, he began – his voice soft now. “I guess part of me always thought this was too good to be true…everything happened so quickly when we met. I’d always been content with one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Then I met you, and…” he trailed off as he chewed his lip, carefully choosing what to say.

You watched him, your earlier anguish now hardened into pure rage, you wanted to kick him out – send him out into the street the way he had with you. But you also wanted to hear this. You wanted to understand what possible reasoning there could be for causing of this pain. What weak excuse he could use to try and justify his cruelty. He looked at you again. His eyes were kind, warm. But you couldn’t help but remember the coldness in them from earlier. You didn’t think you’d ever forget it.

“I guess…everything changed. I fell for you so hard. You took over my life. Invaded my thoughts, my senses. I just wanted to be with you all the time. And to my surprise…you felt the same. This sweet, wonderful woman wanted to be with me, too. I was sure you’d turn away when you found about my job…my past…my scars, my arm... Because why wouldn’t you? You were kind and decent. You saw the best in people. How the hell could you love someone like me? A killer. A monster…”

“Bucky, I…” you croaked.

“Please, just let me finish…” he pleaded, “but somehow, you did love me. And I know you moved in with me quickly, but it felt right. You had a rough start in life, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of you and fix it so you didn’t have to worry about money or paying bills or any of that ever again. I wanted you to sleep soundly, knowing I would protect you and do right by you and you wouldn’t have to sling burgers and fries to get by anymore. And part of me knew it was selfish…because you deserved better than me. You deserved the white picket fence, a dull but decent man with a boring job who comes home and tells you about whatever shit Janet in Accounting got up to that day. But no, you had me – who stole you from that peaceful future to make myself happy. I worked late and committed violent acts. I had to give you bodyguards just in case. I uprooted your entire life. I did my best to give you the love you deserve, but I couldn’t even get that right. When I heard that tape…it was like the universe telling me what I already knew - I wasn’t worthy, and the debt I owed was getting collected. I guess part of me always expected I’d inevitably screw it up, because I never deserved you in the first place. And I’m just sorry that I proved myself right”.

You sniffed back your tears, bowled over by his words. He’d never said anything like this to you before, you had no idea he held those insecurities. The silence hung heavily between you, until you finally spoke, your voice shaky.

“But I was happy slinging burgers. And I never wanted the boring guy. I never wanted the white picket fence. I wanted you, Buck. Only you. I knew who you truly were, and it didn’t matter. It never mattered. You did deserve me. You did deserve love and everything we had…until…well…this”.

He nodded sadly, taking your hand in his.

“I know that now, doll, I do. I ended up sabotaging the best thing that ever happened to me because of my own fears. And that’s on me. But look…I need to ask, do you think you could ever forgive me? I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll go at whatever pace you want…We can just be friends and see how it goes. I’ll go to therapy to sort out my shit. Anything. I’ll never doubt you again. All I ask is that you give me one final chance to fix this. Please, doll…I’m begging you…”

You looked into his big blue eyes, glossy with his unshed tears. Your heart ached and twisted at the sight. You’d never seen him looking so vulnerable before, so lost. You loved him so very much. You would’ve taken a bullet for him if he’d asked. He was correct that the two of you had moved fast in your whirlwind romance, but it always felt like a natural progression. It had always felt right.

But something had shifted. Something monumental. And you didn’t know if it could ever be like it was. It was wrong now.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I can’t….I…” you whispered, squeezing his hand as your tears began to fall. “I want to…I just…I don’t know if I can…”

He inhaled deeply and your heart shattered as you saw the flash of anguish in his eyes. But then he took a moment, a sad but accepting smile creeping over his face. He leaned over and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“It’s alright, doll” he told you softly. “This was my fault. I’m not gonna force it or push you to forgive if you’re not comfortable doing so, okay? Not because I don’t care or don’t want to fight for you. But because I love you, and loving someone means sometimes you have to let them go”.

You nodded as you looked up into his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, c’mon…” he soothed.

He quickly vanished into the en-suite bathroom, returning with a small wad of toilet paper to dab at your tear-soaked cheeks. He extended a finger and gently moved it under your chin, propping your face up to look at his. The tenderness and care he showed you was what you were used to with Bucky. This was the version of him you’d always known. It almost made you forget about everything. Almost.

You both shared a small smile. A melancholic smile, a smile that you both understood meant too much had happened here tonight. Too much had changed. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Nothing was spoken, but everything was said.

It was hard to know how much time had passed, but eventually he got up and moved to the door. You didn’t stop him, and he didn’t ask you to. He ran a finger over your trusty red backpack as he passed the desk. He chuckled and picked it up, “I should’ve known this old thing was involved. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you left with no clothes or money…but you’ve always been the most resourceful person I know.”

You smiled back at him weakly.

“It’s funny…” he mused as he caressed the straps, “you had this emergency kit already to go. Just in case…”

You shook your head, “no…it wasn’t meant to be a kit, it was just left from where I moved in with you. I didn’t-I just dumped it when I…”

“Yes…left fully packed and untouched. With clothes and cash. And debit cards, presumably. Stashed in a closet by the front door. That doesn’t strike you as a choice? A plan? Even if you weren’t fully aware of it?” he asked.

You didn’t respond as the silence laid thick between you. Incisive Bucky, as always. He could read you better than anyone on the planet. You knew he was right, he knew it too. You swallowed, looking down at the frayed thread on the bedsheet.

“You are always planning, doll. Because you always had to, with the life you’ve had. You always had to keep moving and stay one step ahead. We both know that”.

Again, he was met with your silence as you pulled at the thread. But there was no denial. You couldn’t deny the truth.

“Guess we both had our own ejector seats for this plane,” he mused as he moved the bag back to how he found it. “Looks like we had even more in common than we knew”.

He was right, again. It seemed that both of you had your anxieties and insecurities about this relationship. Both of you were maybe a little too cynical and world weary to believe in happy ever afters. His had manifested in anger, in rage…yours in being ready to flee at any time. Both of you had been on the starting line waiting for that pistol to fire.

But it had only finally imploded because of him.

He continued his slow march to the door, clearing his throat as he looked back at you.

“I meant what I said, every word. I’d do anything to get you back. I’d go at any pace, I’d take whatever you offered – in any form, as long as I’m still in your life in some way. I’d spend the rest of my days apologising if I had to. But honestly, I’d also be happy just to be your friend. Okay? So, you can call me, text me, anytime. Hell, just send me an emoji. Even if you just to talk. Even just to yell at me. I’ll always pick up, I promise”.

He pulled a business card from his wallet and placed it on the desk, “here. Put my number in your new phone when you get one”.

You stayed mute, but your eyes followed his hand as he gently put the card down.

“Will you be okay? For money, I mean?” he asked as his hand rested on the doorhandle, “because I can…”

“I’ll be fine Buck, I always am”.

“Yeah doll, I know”, he said softly.

Neither of you said goodbye. Maybe it was too hard to actually say the word out loud. Speak it into existence and accept its reality. So, he just nodded at you, and you smiled back, and you tried not to think about the tears glistening in his eyes or that painful tugging in your chest.

A few seconds later he was gone, and then it was as if he’d never been there at all.

[songbirdseung]

sneaky / park sunghoon

where your secret not so secret boyfriend climbs through your window to see you after a long time genre fluff, est. relationship, tsundere bf hoon

it was a little past 10 pm, and you were sitting at your desk, drowning in notes, your room dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp. you were trying to stay focused, but the exhaustion from your long day was creeping in, making it hard to concentrate. the house was eerily quiet, with your parents having gone to bed hours ago. it wasn’t unusual for you to stay up late working, but tonight felt particularly tedious, like time was dragging.

just as you leaned back in your chair, contemplating whether to call it a night, a faint tapping sound came from the direction of your window. your head shot up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. the noise came again, a little louder this time. cautiously, you stood up and walked over, pulling back the curtains. your eyes widened in shock when you saw a familiar figure standing on the narrow ledge outside your window—sunghoon, grinning like he hadn’t just risked his life to climb up there.

you immediately opened the window, allowing him to slip inside with a little too much ease. “what the hell are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled, trying to keep your voice down so you didn’t wake your parents. “are you crazy?”

“what does it look like i’m doing? i’m here to see you,” sunghoon replied casually, brushing off his jacket as if it were no big deal.

“yeah, i can see that, but you’re climbing through my window? at 10 pm?” you gave him an incredulous look, shutting the window behind him.

he smirked, clearly amused by your panic. “relax, i’ve done this before. it’s not like your parents are gonna check your room.”

“i don’t care! if they catch you, we’re both dead!” you hissed, crossing your arms. you couldn’t believe he thought sneaking into your room was some normal, everyday thing.

sunghoon just shrugged, kicking off his shoes and making his way to your bed. he flopped down onto it with a dramatic sigh, stretching out like he owned the place. “you’re overreacting. besides, i haven’t seen you in weeks. aren’t you happy to see me?”

you rolled your eyes but felt a flutter of warmth in your chest. sure, you were frustrated, but deep down, you were more than a little excited that he had gone through all this trouble just to see you. “well, yeah, i’m happy to see you, but this isn’t exactly how i imagined it.”

he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. “how did you imagine it then? me walking through your front door with a bouquet of flowers?”

“something like that,” you muttered, still shaking your head at his recklessness. “you really are unbelievable.”

“hey, i’m nothing if not creative,” he said, shooting you a playful wink. “come on, you can’t say this isn’t romantic.”

“it’s something,” you admitted with a small smile, trying to stay mad but failing miserably. “but seriously, what if someone sees you?”

“no one’s gonna see me. i’m practically a ninja,” he teased, making himself more comfortable on your bed. “besides, it’s not like i was gonna just sit at home all night. i had to come see you.”

you let out a sigh, unable to fight the grin forming on your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you’re still dating me,” he shot back, his voice full of smugness.

you shook your head, walking over to your desk. “yeah, because i clearly have terrible taste in men.”

“hey, now,” sunghoon said, sitting up on your bed and giving you a mock-offended look. “that’s not what you said the last time we hung out.”

you laughed, glancing over your shoulder at him. “okay, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for climbing up my window like a maniac.”

“aww, c’mon, don’t be like that,” he pouted, scooting over and patting the space next to him. “i’m here now, so just come cuddle with me. you can finish your work later.”

“sunghoon, i have a paper due,” you protested, even though the idea of snuggling up with him sounded way more appealing than continuing to work.

“you’ve been working all night,” he countered, tugging at your arm until you reluctantly joined him on the bed. “just take a break. you deserve it.”

you sighed but let yourself relax into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. “you’re lucky you’re cute, otherwise i’d kick you out right now.”

he let out a low chuckle, wrapping his arms around you. “i know. i’m irresistible.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “you really don’t give up, do you?”

“nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ with a smug grin on his face.

the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, your bodies fitting together as if you hadn’t been apart for weeks. you missed this—the simplicity of being close, without the pressures of schedules and distance getting in the way. sunghoon was never the best at showing his emotions, but moments like this, where he went out of his way to be with you, spoke louder than words ever could.

after a while, you glanced up at him. “i still can’t believe you did this. i mean, this isn’t exactly your thing.”

sunghoon smirked down at you, one eyebrow quirking up. “what do you mean by that?”

you gave him a teasing look. “you know, the whole sneaking into my room, rom-com style. usually, you’re more… stoic.”

“are you saying i’m not romantic?” he asked, pretending to be offended.

“i’m just saying it’s new,” you teased, poking his side.

he let out a soft scoff, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “just because i’m not cheesy doesn’t mean i can’t pull off the occasional grand gesture.”

“grand gesture, huh? sneaking through my window at 10 pm counts as a ‘grand gesture’ now?”

“absolutely,” he replied, his tone confident. “i risked my life climbing up here. i’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, okay, i’ll give you that one. but you better not make this a habit.”

“no promises,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “i might just have to keep surprising you.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “fine. but next time, use the front door.”

sunghoon chuckled, pulling you closer. “we’ll see.”

the two of you lay there for a while, the soft hum of the night filling the room. eventually, you broke the comfortable silence, looking up at him with a playful pout. “you know, you still haven’t apologized for giving me a heart attack by showing up out of nowhere.”

“apologized?” sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his tone full of faux innocence. “why would i apologize for being the best boyfriend ever?”

you huffed, nudging him with your elbow. “i think i deserve an apology. and maybe some kisses to make up for it.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “fine, but only because you’re so needy.”

you laughed, tugging him back down for another kiss. “sure, hoon. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, his lips lingering on yours for a little longer this time. “you’re lucky i like you,” he muttered, though the warmth in his eyes gave away more than he’d ever admit.

“i know,” you teased, pressing one more kiss to his cheek. “and i’m lucky you’re crazy enough to climb through my window just to see me.”

“yeah, well,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “i’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

[reshinless]

Been seeing alot of spiderman Kinich content on the clock app and this gave me an idea

Reader gets gwen stacy'd and kinich fails to save them lol then he wakes up and then they bang

──── through the phone mask

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. before he goes, how about a peck, yeah through his mask!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. spiderman!kinich x gn!afab!reader (this will end up in smut, so !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!) angst + comfort (in a way?? death mention but no actual death happens! just a bad dream)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. oooo i could not stop thinking about this during class!!

"mwa!" you cheer- briefly backing away as you admire you boyfriend, kinich, that puts his mask on. you pray that this spiderman stuff didn't pressure him at all.

"mmm... one more?" as he turned around to face you again. you chuckled as you tilted your head, stepping closer to the window sill he crouched on. "one more? i think you've had enough for today." a teasing tone present in you sonorously.

he gave you a pleading look in hopes to earn accolade (in which this case is a kiss. or two. or three.) you could giggle, feeling the way he still tried to kiss you through the mask he wore, concealing his identity to all, except you of course.

"mmmwa!" you brush your lips against the fabric that kept all of this a secret. you were so pretty when you smiled. he likes that little dimple that appears on your cheek when you grinned- or maybe the mole on your neck right there. mmmaybe he should count them soon.

but when there's a moment where kinich saves everyone but you, he'd never forgive himself. when there's a moment where kinich can catch everyone when they're falling but you. when there are gonna be moments that only star him, and missing you. like how a seed would long for a soil bed, or how the moonlight doesn't shine without its sun.

he was terrified of losing someone as precious as you were. for as long as you both lived, he wanted to spend as much time with you. his love language was all about spending time with you, and doing things for you, he knew you could handle yourself, but he loves knowing you rely on him for a few things (even if they're simple). so losing you would be losing a huge part of himself.

in all the years you both got to spend together, you spent it along side your best wingwoman; mualani. growing up by both of your sides, he never felt alone, or unneeded. he felt everything was finally coming together.

so when he saw the scene before him- it was you. being stabbed in the stomach by a spike below the now-broken bridge. even in death you were so pretty. your head was laid down on his lap, barely opening your eyes, just enough to let a few tears trickle down the softness of your cheeks.

"i'm.. sorry i couldn't do enough for you." were the words you whispered, holding his cheek before finally passing on to the next world.

no he couldn't handle the scene at all. and only now is when he realizes- he should spend more time. he'll make sure you won't feel like that when he meets you again. he knows he'll recognize you. he'd know you from anywhere, anytime, any appearance, anywho.

kinich wakes up in tears, clear tear stains on the place he rest his face into. your pjs have small marks, drops of tears where they'd landed off his face. your eyes flutter open a few seconds later, realizing he's no longer in your arms.

"kin? wh.. what's wrong? why are you crying?" you immediately got up to wipe the small sobs off his cheeks. "..you're still here.. thank god, you're still here." he suddenly hugs you, fitting his head into your nape. his hold was tight, and affectionate. enough to know that he's happy that you're still present.

"yeah, i'd never leave. was.. was it a dream?" you asked, massaging his scalp to soothe his stress. he could only hum in response, he felt a little pathetic to admit that he was, but it was the first step to accepting it.

"do.. you ever feel like i'm mistreating you?" his head popped up from the spot it was previously. "what? no you're not. in fact, i feel like i'm not doing enough for you, baby." you chuckle, shifting your head to front him a little better.

"you've done more than you think for me." his hand held a soft grasp on your palm, you could feel a few scars on his hand. "really? i find it hard to believe." you let out a giggle, certainly a superhero who does things to make sure the city is a safe place for all, feels like you do more? that was in your point of view anyway.

"may.. i show you how much i can repay you then? i want to show you.. i want you to feel how thankful i am that you're here."

whatever it was in that dream of his definitely helped yours come true. "mmm, someone's ahhn- enjoying, ngh themselves.." he grunted out, hitting you from behind so good, you can't do anything but sit there and take it.

you could feel every little ridge on his dick, the sweat emitting from your body, combined with the drops spouting from the pores of his palms. damn you couldn't even hold your own moans back in courtesy for the people in the next dorm. "mmmffffuckkk.. s'good kin.." you whined, you shut your eyes in ectasy

he throws his head back, groaning at the sight of your plush ass barely swallowing his shaft each time. every shlick only made you even wetter. you could feel his length twitching inside you, each time he hit your very core.

your folds felt so insanely good, wrapping around the base of his dick so well, even inside you it felt so warm. the way you were basically getting stretched out, it reached even further into you, in his observation seeing how your eyebrows knitted- he assumed you liked it like that, kissing your insides!

he slowed the pace of his sloppy thrusts briefly to reach over for the phone on the nightstand. "you mind if we take a photo, pretty? love the way you look right now, 'd hate to miss such a face."

he'd be too busy admiring your face to realize how long he'd been grinding against your precious spot. he knew exactly how to make you use the expressions he wanted.

kissing your neck hungrily, making sure you face the camera as it recorded, letting it see all of you.

watching how your body reacted to his so well, he couldn't help but coo into your ear about how good you were doing.

"such a pretty kitty, mmm? and they're all mine aren't they? he continued, on the edge of the bed- making sure you see yourself in the mirror in front of you.

"this is what i admire everyday. hnnn.. s'tight, fffuck.." he groaned into you, letting you sit on his dick, riding it while watching his reaction through the mirror.

you couldn't help but piston your hips repeatedly, you were already so wet, might as well put it to use!

he held your hand throughout everything, squeezing it every now and then to indirectly ask if you're doing okay. kissing down from your nape to your shoulder blades, you were perfect from the ground till your ears.

for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he cums inside you. warm seed shoots up into your body, creaming on his cock at the same time.

kinich who holds you by the waist, feeling his cock slowly soften inside you. still trying to catch his breath- but still makes an effort to kiss your cheek.

still makes an effort to carry your trembling body to the bathroom. still makes an effort to clean you up. still makes an effort to eat you out slowly afterwards.

he who already misses you while you were still in the room. he couldn't help but cuddle with you for a bit before going out again. it was sunday already anyway, and he spent the moments where the sun rose elsewhere (eating you out/giving bj)

kinich who loved the idea of making out with you right after, still having to go out since you both spent the whole night.. intimately. half of his mask is still on but all you do is lift it up a little, enough for his lips to be visible enough for you to peck.

he makes sure you're sound asleep before he goes, he'll be back before you know it anyway.

[aangelinakii]

DRUNK WORDS, SOBER THOUGHTS.

— unexpected late night call.

summary : jason's always had a thing for his best friend's sibling. when they ask him to pick them up from a bar because roy would kill them, jason can't help but help a friend in need.

after coming home from patrol tonight, jason wasn't expecting a call from you, especially with your words sounding so slurred. it was unlike you, or at least what he knew about you.

"hey, jace, i've been drinking in your part of town. do you think you can come get me? roy would literally kill me if he knew i'd been drinking down here." those were your words, or, at least, what he could make out through your blurry voice and hiccups.

if jason were your brother, he would kill you himself, too. no blaming roy.

despite being the son of a billionaire, jason preferred to keep out the way, in his own little bubble. it was just a shame the only little bubble he could find was in the dark, dingy cauldron. not a safe place to get drunk in.

he could agree the bars were good, surprisingly. they sold good stuff. but the people couldn't be trusted; even as a man his size, he knew if he wanted to get trashed at a bar, it had to be at a club in bristol, or the safety of his own home.

it wasn't long before jason pulled up outside the bar he had to strain his ears to decipher, and made out your swaying figure lingering on the pavement outside. jesus...

he was quick to hop out his car and hurry to your side, looping a supportive arm around your upper back. your frame bubbled with a hiccup beneath him, and he patiently led your stumbling legs to the passenger's seat of his sedan.

"what are you doing drinking in the cauldron?" jason tried to conceal his sigh as he fell into the driver's seat beside you, and close the door behind him, quick to turn on the heating.

"birthday," you hummed in return, lids falling low over your eyes as you sunk into the warm seat, a nice contrast to both the sweaty pub and nippy air outside.

this time, jason was unable to hide his surprise, turning to you with raised eyebrows. "it's your birthday?" he should've known.

but his surprise quickly bubbled into embarrassment as you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"no, doof," you snickered, peering over at him with your tired, hazy eyes. "friend's."

made sense. he swore it wasn't your birthday any time soon; but he mostly just did that to make himself feel better for jumping to conclusions.

jason's big, scarred hands took hold of the steering wheel, and his feet, still fitted in his heavy boots from patrol, moved to the pedals. with a vrum, the car began to move down the road, lined with drunkards.

a few beats of silence passed between you, and jason watched out the corner of his eye as you leaned forward to press at the stereo, one of his cd's humming to life.

soft shoegaze flowed through the speakers, something you immediately recognised as slowdive, despite your intoxication, and a chuckle brushed past your lips as you leaned back.

"didn't cast you as the slowdive type."

the driver beside you cleared his throat, and he momentarily took his eyes off the road to adjust the stereo, changing it from his cd rack to the radio. "i'm not," he responded sheepishly, although trying to push out a tone of toughness. "where to, then? i guess not to roy."

deciding not to push it, you turned out the window, small bemused smile upon your lips. "roy would kill me." your words were slow as you spoke, an effort to be more inteligible.

wincing as you spoke, you turned to jason with a soft grimace. "can we go back to yours?" a pang gave in your chest as you caught sight of jason's side-eye as the car passed an amber streetlight. now you've done it; gone and called him to pick you up, and then ask him to go back to his. some friend you are, putting him in this position. "i'll make it up to you."

who was jason to decline?

his jaw clenched, and you could hear him breath deeply. your own heart thudded in anticipation.

from beside you, jason let out a gravelly sigh. "fine."

with a dizzy grin, you leaned forward to spin the knob on the stereo, turning up the muffled music. something new on the charts you had yet to hear yet, so there was no use singing along.

soon, jason was pulling up outside his apartment block, and clicking off the music.

"how good are you walking, pipsqueak?" he asked as he pulled the keys from the ignition, and the car gave a grunt as the power left its body.

a scoffed brushed past your lips as your fingers limply grabbed for the door handle, attempting to lift your knees but only grunting. don't get too cocky now.

with a pair of scrunched-together eyebrows, you turned to jason, grumbling at that bemused smile on his stupid lips. you didn't have to speak to answer his question.

he chuckled, and his door clicked open as he pulled on the handle. you watched through the windshield as your brother's best friend grinned stupidly to himself to get to your side.

there would be an unspoken agreement between the two of you to never let roy know about this.

your saviour peeled open the passenger side door and held a hand out, and you noticed that his palm was wrapped in bandage that was beginning to seep a browny-red. best not to ask. chucking wryly, you took hold of his hand, and didn't have to make much of an effort to stand, as jason was strong enough to do so.

roy always went on about how strong he was, often walking into your bedroom in the apartment you shared (gotham rent is too high in the nice parts!) just to flex in your mirror, but when he brought jason round — his best friend — you could tell the immediate winner. jason todd, by a landslide.

shutting the door and locking the car behind you, jason wrapped an arm around your waist, expertly holding you up on your stumbling feet, and escorted you into the lobby of his apartment building. if he weren't trying to help your drunkness, the affection could have been mistaken for something more than friendly. but you were under the influence. he knew better.

it was a struggle getting you up the steps to his floor, but jason got you there eventually, setting you down on the couch, gaze lingering for a moment as you swayed.

hands on hips, jason spoke down to you, voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "you eat anything before going out? drink any water at all tonight?"

letting out a soft hiccup, you shook your head slowly, eyes closing to try to eliminate the harsh beginnings of a headache that had began to blossom in the back of your cranium.

in return, the tall man tutted, mouth pursing to the side. he stepped away from the sitting area, and you could hear the distant flush of a faucet coming to life, the muted sound of a glass being filled with water.

he was back, carefully handing you the almost-full glass as he lowered himself to perch on the ledge of the stout coffee table before the couch, hands hovering outside yours as your own grip wobbled with the weight of the cup. after sending him a look, he backed off. you could handle it. maybe.

"the couch okay for you?" jason hummed after a moment, corner of his mouth quirked up, watching you sip gingerly at the tasteless water, although the colour was beginning to return to your face, the blur in your eyes clearing. "or dare i ask if you want my bed?"

pulling the glass from your lips, you swallowed your mouthful before allowing yourself to chuckle and shake your head. "couch is fine." your voice was small, a little crackly and tired.

with another hum, jason stood, and pulled a folded blanket from the back of a bust-up armchair beside the sofa. he traded the blanket for your half-empty glass, and sat against the coffee table again.

unfolding the size of the blanket, watching it get larger and larger, you began to lean back against the plush sofa, prepared for slumber to take over. however, the breath hitched in your throat, and your movements stopped, as the sensation of rough fingertips grazed against your ankle.

when you looked down, vision still owning a blur, jason was helping you with your shoes, so you could put your feet on the couch without a worry.

once you were free, and jason had discarded your shoes by one leg of the coffee table, you tugged your feet beneath the blanket, and sunk down into the cushions. for such a guy jason was, you were surprised by how comfortable he'd made his living room.

head sinking into a plush pillow, you peered up at jason from beneath heavy eyelids. he'd perched his chin in his hand, watching you carefully, eyes and smile soft, black hair touselled.

"jason?" you hummed, and you could see the way his smile widened for a moment before falling neutral.

he leaned closer to you, ears aching to hear you through the slight slur of your tongue and the small volume.

"you know you've always been my favourite of roy's friends." and you couldn't help but chuckle tiredly, the soft laugh morphing into a yawn.

but jason didn't laugh in return, only watching as your eyes slowl fluttered shut. if only you knew that you've always been his favourite of roy's siblings. and he's only got one of those.

[caffeinateddino]

Post-Rumbling! Levi Ackerman x reader [18+]

title: i hit my toe pt. 2

♡ warnings: sexual content, afab reader, gender neutral pronouns, oral sex, Gentle, soft Levi

A/N: i was sleepy writing this so it could be too emotional or bad idk

summary: You, a former squad leader in the survey corps luckily survived the rumbling and now you're staying with Levi in Marley, attending him and keeping him company

after catching him masturbating, you two end up on his bed

first par is here

The room was dark, save for the faint sliver of moonlight that crept through the small gap in the curtains. You and Levi sat naked on the edge of his bed, an awkward silence filling the space between you. The tension was thick, not born of discomfort, but of hesitation—neither of you sure who should make the first move.

You glanced at him, catching the way his hands rested in his lap, fingers slightly trembling. His gaze was downward, avoiding yours, and his breath was slow but uneven, betraying the conflict raging inside him. Your own heartbeat thundered in your chest, your skin prickling with both nervousness and anticipation.

It hadn’t been planned. Not really. But here you both were, caught in the fragile moment before one of you finally decided to break the silence.

Your mind drifted back to earlier that evening, when everything had still felt simple. Dinner had been quiet but comfortable. The kind of quiet where words didn’t need to fill the air. Afterward, you had insisted on doing the dishes, and Levi, true to his nature, had insisted on helping, drying them as you washed.

That’s when it happened.

He cleared his throat, breaking the peaceful silence. “I know… you lied,” he said, his voice barely audible over the running water.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Lied about what?” you asked, glancing at him. His expression was unreadable, but the way he gripped the towel tighter gave him away.

“About earlier,” he continued, still not looking at you. “When you said you didn’t see or hear anything. I know you did.” His tone was flat, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes when he finally glanced up at you, searching for a reaction.

You froze for a moment, but then let out a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension. “Okay, fine. You caught me,” you admitted, rinsing the last plate. “I saw. And heard. But it’s not a big deal, Levi.”

His eyes darkened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m… sorry,” he muttered. “For thinking of you like that.”

You turned off the tap, drying your hands before stepping closer to him. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” you said softly, hoping your voice would reassure him. “It’s not a bad thing, Levi. Honestly, it’s flattering.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, as if trying to gauge whether you meant what you said. And you did.

That’s how it started. One minute, you were talking by the sink, and the next, the unspoken tension between you two finally gave way. The careful distance you had maintained for so long crumbled as you both acknowledged the feelings that had simmered beneath the surface. It was quiet, delicate. A kiss here. A touch there. Until, somehow, you found yourselves like this—sitting on his bed, waiting.

Back in the present, you swallowed the lump in your throat and took a breath. The silence had stretched long enough. Tentatively, you reached out, placing your hand on Levi’s bare chest. His skin was warm under your palm, his heartbeat steady but a little faster than usual. You felt him stiffen slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze remained forward, though you could feel his vulnerability radiating through every tense muscle.

“Levi,” you whispered, your voice soft as you slid closer to him.

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were softer, more open than you’d ever seen them. “I… care about you,” he finally admitted, the words quiet, almost fragile.

You smiled gently, your hand moving up to cup his cheek. “I know,” you replied, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his lips. He returned the kiss, hesitant at first, but gradually deepening it, as if slowly letting go of the walls he’d kept up for so long.

Your hands wandered down his chest, tracing the scars that marred his skin, each one a reminder of the battles he had survived. But right now, there was no war, no death, no destruction, no titans. Just the two of you, sharing something that felt… safe.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, his body fitting perfectly against yours. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he held himself back even now, so afraid of losing control. You gently stroked his length, and he gasped, a quiet, breathless sound that sent a shiver through you.

He buried his face in your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as you continued to stroke him, slowly, tenderly. “You don’t have to hold back,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His hand clutched your side, his grip tightening slightly as his breath hitched. “I didn’t expect this,” he murmured against your neck, his voice strained. “I didn’t expect to feel this way about you.”

You smiled softly, resting your forehead against his. “Me neither,” you admitted, your hand moving at a gentle, steady pace. “But I’m glad.”

His lips brushed yours again, and this time, the kiss was different. There was no hesitation, only quiet acceptance and need.

you felt him shiver agaisnt you as you continued to slowly stroke him. his back arched slightly, his scarred chest getiing pressed to your breasts harder. another gasp of soft moan and he pressed his face into your neck. you felt his soft moans vibrating through your skin as you continued to stoke him. did handjob even felt that good? maybe. what was making him feel better was the fact that it was your hands on him, gently guiding him to his climax.

"Fuck" he groaned, lifting his injured hand and craddled your cheek as he pressed his mouth on your neck. his grip on your hips hardened. you felt his neatly trimmed nails digging into your skin. you moved your hand from his back and reached for the one that was holding your hips. you felt is whole bodyshiver as you gently moved him to lay him down. He loved it. He loved the way you lead it, the way you take care of him. with a smile you psotioned yourself between his legs, your hand still on him

He watched you with his hooded, steel-grey eyes, his breath ragged, yet steady as you took him into your mouth slowly. he let out a needy moan as he felt the wet heat wrapping him up deliciously, his back arching off of the bed.

Mind you, this man had no experience with someone, this was all too new, too intimate for him. he dangled his uninjured hand into your hait, gently holding it, as if afraid to push too far.

You kept your pace slow, savoring every reaction, every soft moan that escaped him. The vulnerability in his voice, in his touch, made the moment feel more intimate than anything you had ever shared before. you felt your own arousal building upmore and more with each whimper of your name spilled from his mouth.

When he finally reached his release, it was quiet. you felt it coming as his grip tightened around your hair for a second. His body tensed beneath your touch before he relaxed completely, sinking into the bed with a soft, contented sigh.

gulping everydrop of his release, you licked your lips as you locked your eyes into his. he continued to pant, chasing his breath, drinking every move of yours. you leaned down, pressed a loud, playful kiss to the tip of his cock, eliticing a huff of smile from him. You crawled back up to him, rested your face agaisnt his chest. instictively, his arms came to wrap around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, simply basking in the warmth and closeness of the moment.

And for the first time in a long time, Levi felt… at peace.

As you nestled against Levi’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, you couldn’t help but notice how relaxed he seemed, his earlier tension having melted away. For a while, you both simply enjoyed the closeness, the quiet intimacy that had developed between you.

Levi shifted slightly, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Despite his relaxed demeanor, there was a noticeable hint of shyness in his eyes. His uninjured hand gently caressed your back, as if he was contemplating the right moment to say something or do something more.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “If you’re up for it,” you murmured, your voice gentle, “I’d love for you to return the favor.”

He met your gaze, a mix of desire and uncertainty in his steel-grey eyes. He hesitated, then nodded slowly, his expression turning serious as he considered his movements carefully. Despite the warmth in his eyes, he was mindful of his injured leg, which he kept carefully positioned to avoid any strain.

With a deliberate and cautious movement, Levi gently guided you onto your back, his touch feather-light. His hands were tender as they explored your body, tracing along your sides and settling on your hips. He took a moment to adjust his position, ensuring he was comfortable and that his injury wouldn’t cause him any pain.

He leaned down, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your lips, his touch delicate but filled with longing. His lips traveled from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that made you shiver with pleasure. As he kissed and nuzzled your skin, his uninjured hand slipped between your legs, his touch warm and reassuring.

You moaned softly as he began to gently explore you, his touch careful but confident. His fingers moved with a practiced grace, and he seemed to intuitively know just how to bring you pleasure. The way he focused on you, his gaze never leaving your face, made the experience all the more intimate.

Levi’s breathing became more labored as he continued his attentive exploration, his fingers working in rhythm with your responses. You could feel his care and affection in every touch, every movement. Despite his own vulnerability and the pain from his injury, he was determined to make you feel cherished and adored.

When he finally positioned his face between your legs, she looked up at you for your reaction. hearing no complaints, he spread you with his thumb before getting to work. he took his time, his movements tender and deliberate. His tongue danced along your sensitive areas, and he was gentle but insistent, drawing out your pleasure with every flick and swirl.

You gasped and moaned as his warm breath and skilled touch sent waves of pleasure through you. It was like he knew your body better than you did. His uninjured hand continued to caress your body, his touch both soothing and electrifying. His other hand was on your clit. his thumb drew slow circles, accompanying his tongue.

this was a side of him you couldn't even imagine to see. So gentle, So careful. you wondered if this is the same man who told you about his childhood in the underground, the same man ruthlessly sliced titans one by one.

As his touch heightened your arousal, your breathing grew more erratic. “Levi… I want you,” you whispered, your voice quivering with need. you pushed his now messy hair away of his face to look into his ehes “Please…”

Levi’s eyes fluttered open at your words, their steel-grey depths darkened with a mixture of surprise. The sincerity in your plea was met with a look of determined affection. He paused for a moment, taking in your vulnerability and the desire that shimmered in your eyes. it felt goodー to be wanted like that. to be wanted by you.

He positioned himself carefully between your legs, mindful of his injured limb. His fingers traced along your inner thighs with a deliberate slowness, causing your body to tremble in anticipation. His gaze locked onto yours, holding your stare with an intensity that made your heart race and your body wanting to squirm away

With a deep, steadying breath, he aligned himself on to your enterance. With one slow thrust, he entered you, placing his hands on your hips to keep you close. The initial pressure was a sweet, intense sensation, stretching and filling you in a way that made you moan softly. Levi’s movements were slow, measured.

His breath hitched slightly as he adjusted to the sensation, his eyes closing momentarily as he found his rhythm. He leaned in, his lips brushing your neck with soft kisses that was sk different from the firm, steady thrusts of his body. He leaned to your ear, his lips pressing against your skin “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice a soothing, hushed rumble against you. it made you shiver and reach up to his neck

You wrapped your hands behind his neck, legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and whispered back with a breathless urgency, “It’s perfect. Just… don’t stop.”

Levi’s pace grew more assured, each thrust a deliberate and steady rhythm that pushed you closer to the edge. His touch was both reassuring yet firm and electrifying. The way he moved inside you was a careful blend of passion and tenderness, each motion a testament to his desire he felt towards you.

As you approached your climax, Levi’s movements became more urgent, though still controlled. holding your hips, he lift them slight up, off of the bed as his body pressed deeper into you and he found a rhythm that drove you to the brink. The pleasure was overwhelming, making you cry out his name in a desperate, breathless moan.

Levi responded with a soft, reverent groan, his own release building. His thrusts grew more intense, and with a final, shuddering breath, he reached his peak. His body tensed, then relaxed, and he let out a deep, satisfied groan. You felt his warm release fill you up as he let your hips down again

Afterwards, Levi withdrew, his movements careful and gentle. He lay beside you, his breath heavy but content. You felt the warmth of his body as he reached and pulled you to his chest, placing his chin to your hair

The room settled into a peaceful silence, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the quiet- though he break it after a moment

"Alright, lets go take a shower we're sweaty" he said in his usual deadpan tone. "also we should take a piss. no need to get an infection" okay, Levi was still Levi at least.

[fgumi]

ꕥ after-party; — heeseung drabble, wc: 770, genre: fluff

the prada after-party was alive with energy, the room filled with fashion’s elite, each corner buzzing with conversation and laughter. the lighting was low, a mix of reds and blues flashing to the rhythm of the music, creating a vibrant, dreamlike atmosphere. you were right in the middle of it all, dancing with an effortless joy that made you stand out even in the crowded room.

enhypen sat off to the side, watching the party from their seats. heeseung, ever the introvert, preferred it that way—quietly observing rather than diving into the chaos. but tonight, his eyes rarely left you, drawn to the way you moved with such ease and happiness.

you turned, catching his gaze, and a playful idea struck. with a mischievous smile, you pretended to tug on an invisible rope, playfully trying to ‘pull’ him toward you. heeseung’s lips curled into a reluctant smile, his expression caught between playful and flustered. he loved dancing, but parties were not his scene—except when it involved you.

“you’re really gonna do this to me?” he mouthed, though the fondness in his eyes gave him away.

the rest of enhypen chuckled as heeseung reluctantly stood, dramatically acting like he was being pulled forward. “he’s whipped,” sunghoon joked, nudging jay, who laughed in agreement. his bandmates laughed, cheering him on as he approached you, clearly amused by his playful reluctance.

heeseung rolled his eyes, but his smile never faded as he stumbled toward you, playing along with your game. as he reached you, the song shifted, and bruno mars’s “versace on the floor” began to play, filling the room with its sultry beat. the irony wasn’t lost on either of you, and you both broke into laughter, leaning closer as the music enveloped you.

“versace? at a prada party? how off-brand,” you joked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

heeseung’s smile was shy but genuine, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “yeah, but we’ll make it work,” he said, his voice low and laced with affection. he placed his hands gently on your waist, pulling you into a slow dance. you swayed together, your movements soft and natural, finding a rhythm that was just yours.

heeseung’s gaze softened, his cheeks still tinged pink as he took in every detail of you. “you look beautiful tonight,” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the music. “i’d rather be anywhere but a party, but… with you, it’s different.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering at his words. “you’d rather be at the dorm, right?” you teased, leaning your forehead against his. “but i’m glad you’re here.”

heeseung nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “yeah, i’d rather be sleeping, but… i wouldn’t want to miss this,” he confessed quietly. “you make all of this worth it.”

you twirled lightly, letting his touch guide you back to him, your movements synchronized like you were in your own little world. the flashing lights, the crowded room, and the pounding music all faded away, leaving just the two of you swaying gently in each other’s arms.

heeseung pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “thanks for making me feel… less out of place,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “i’d dance a thousand times if it meant being close to you.”

you giggled softly, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “you’re the best dancer here, hee,” you whispered. “but i’m glad you’re dancing with me.”

the two of you continued to move together, sharing smiles and quiet laughter, wrapped up in a moment that felt like it was made just for you. and even as the song played its final notes, heeseung stayed close, his arms around you, content to let the world fade away for just a little while longer.

later that night, after the party wound down, you and heeseung found your way back home, exhausted but happy. as you both drifted off to sleep, neither of you knew that twitter was already buzzing with excitement, fans going wild over the rare sight of heeseung out of his seat and on the dance floor.

“heeseung dancing?? with that smile? i’m done 😭💕” “you can tell he’s so in love… they’re adorable!” “he looks so happy. they bring out the best in him!” “only they can get heeseung to dance at a party. i’m soft.”

the clips of your dance were everywhere, capturing every smile, every shy glance, and the quiet joy that radiated between you. fans couldn’t stop gushing over how sweet it was to see heeseung stepping out of his comfort zone, all because of you.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: did y'all see this damn video? that's what has been playing in my head throughout the weekend. wdym he's that kind of boyfriend?? ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us Epilogue.

Summary:

Aemond and Y.N celebrate their wedding day.

Warning(s): Fluff, Allusion to Smut & Aegon being Aegon ;-)

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 3750

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Two years had passed, and the day had finally arrived. Y.N stood in the sunroom of the manor, nervously fidgeting with her bouquet.

The soft scent of flowers filled the air, and sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on her white dress.

Y.N glanced at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Behind her, the sound of footsteps broke the quiet. "Beautiful," a voice said softly.

Y.N turned to see Aegon leaning casually against the door frame, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Aegon," she said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to walk you down the aisle," he replied, stepping closer. His usual mischievous demeanour was replaced by something softer, more sincere.

Y.N blinked, her eyes widening. "You'd do that?"

Aegon nodded, a rare moment of seriousness in his voice. "It would be my honour."

He held out his hand, and Y.N took it, her heart swelling with gratitude.

"Don't let me fall," she whispered, half-joking but still feeling a little shaky.

"Never," Aegon promised, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As the doors to the sunroom opened, the soft sound of music drifted in, and Y.N took a deep breath.

The moment she had been both anticipating and dreading was here. Together, they walked slowly, side by side, to the beginning of the aisle.

The guests rose from their seats, turning to face her. Y.N’s heart fluttered as she saw so many familiar faces—friends, family—all here for this moment.

As she and Aegon moved forward, she caught sight of Jace sitting next to Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Jace gave her a smile and a nod of encouragement, which she returned.

They passed Alicent, who was seated near the front with Jack perched on her lap, his little face beaming with excitement. Y.N's heart melted at the sight of her son.

"I love you," she whispered as they passed.

"Love you, Mama," Jack replied in a sweet, clear voice, causing her to smile even wider.

As they neared the altar, Y.N’s eyes locked on Aemond. He stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze never leaving her.

A slight smile curved his lips as she approached, and when she reached him, he turned fully to face her.

Aegon pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before placing her hand in Aemond's. "Take good care of her, brother," he said with a teasing smirk but an undertone of sincerity.

Aemond nodded, his gaze fixed solely on Y.N. "Always."

As they stood facing each other, Y.N couldn't help but notice the tear that slipped down Aemond’s cheek. He smiled through it, his eye brimming with emotion.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with love.

Y.N gently reached up, wiping the tear from his cheek with her thumb. "So do you," she replied softly, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment.

Before they exchanged their vows, Aemond reached up and, in a symbolic gesture, removed his eyepatch.

The sapphire that replaced his lost eye gleamed in the sunlight, a mark of both his past and the man he had become.

The priest began the ceremony, guiding them through the traditional vows. Y.N and Aemond recited their promises to each other, their voices steady but filled with emotion.

They exchanged rings, the bands symbolizing their unbreakable bond.

Finally, the priest smiled warmly and declared, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Aemond, you may kiss the bride."

Aemond didn’t hesitate. He cupped Y.N's face in his hands, his touch gentle yet possessive.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, sealing their vows as the guests erupted into loud applause.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. They were married, bound together in love, with their family and friends cheering them on.

Aemond and Y.N stood there, lost in each other’s gaze, knowing that their future together had only just begun.

The reception was in full swing. The manor’s grand ballroom had been transformed into an elegant space filled with soft candlelight and flowers, and the guests were seated around beautifully adorned tables.

Laughter and chatter filled the air as the celebration continued. Aemond rose from his seat, glass in hand, tapping it lightly to catch everyone's attention.

As the room quieted, Aemond looked across the crowd, his gaze eventually landing on Y.N. His heart swelled as he spoke, his voice steady but full of emotion.

“I am blessed beyond words to have you as my wife,” he began, his eye never leaving hers. “After I lost my eye, I never believed I would find anyone who could love me, truly love me, for who I am. I had convinced myself that someone like you was beyond my reach. But then, I saw you. From the moment you took my hand, I dreamt of this day—the day I could call you mine, and the day you would become my wife.”

Y.N felt tears welling up, and she squeezed his hand tightly.

Aemond smiled, his voice thick with emotion as he addressed the guests. “To stand here today, in front of family and friends, and to proudly call you my wife-I can say with absolute certainty: never give up on your dreams, because I have living proof that they do come true.”

The room erupted into applause, glasses raised in celebration. Aemond sat down, and Y.N leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, her heart overflowing with love and pride.

After the applause died down, Y.N surprised everyone by standing up. “I know it’s not traditional for the bride to give a speech,” she began, smiling shyly, “but I just wanted to say something.”

She turned to Aemond, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. “Aemond, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was afraid at first, afraid that you were too good to be true. That maybe I didn’t deserve someone so pure, so beautiful, and so loving as you are.”

The guests listened intently as Y.N’s voice grew more confident, her love for Aemond shining through her words. “But here we are, surrounded by the people I love most, and I feel so proud—so blessed—to be your wife. Aemond, I was born to love you, and I always will.”

As she sat down, cheeks flushed from the heartfelt speech, Aemond cupped her face gently and kissed her, pulling her close.

The room was filled with warm smiles, and just as they broke apart, Aegon’s voice cut through the moment with a loud, teasing shout, “Get a room!”

The guests laughed, and Y.N giggled, leaning into Aemond as the love and joy of the day filled the room.

Soon, it was time to eat. The guests were served their wedding feast, a traditional three-course meal. For starters, there was a choice of soups—creamy tomato and basil or a hearty vegetable broth.

The main course was a beautifully prepared roast dinner, with a vegetarian and vegan option for those who preferred.

The tables buzzed with contentment as guests enjoyed their meals, and the dessert came in the form of a tempting selection of puddings—sticky toffee, chocolate mousse, and fruit tarts.

Y.N glanced around at the room, feeling utterly content. Everything was perfect, but more than the decorations or the food, it was the people around her, and most of all, the man sitting next to her, that made this day the happiest of her life.

Aemond reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as they shared a quiet, loving look amidst the celebration.

The reception had carried on into the evening, with music filling the manor and laughter spilling out from the dance floor. As the night wore on, the moment came for Aemond and Y.N to share their first dance as husband and wife.

The lights dimmed, and the guests gathered around the dance floor, excited murmurs in the air.

The soft opening notes of Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” began to play, and Y.N felt a flutter of excitement in her chest as Aemond took her hand.

Together, they walked to the center of the dance floor, the crowd parting for them.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, while Y.N looped hers around his neck, their bodies swaying gently to the music.

His touch was tender, his forehead resting against hers as they moved in time with the song. The world around them seemed to blur, leaving just the two of them in their own perfect moment.

“I love you so much,” Aemond whispered softly, his voice filled with emotion as he gazed into her eyes, his thumb tracing small circles on her back.

Y.N smiled, her heart brimming with joy, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m pregnant again.”

Aemond froze for a moment, pulling back slightly to look at her, his eye wide with surprise and a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Are you really?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and happiness.

“Yes,” Y.N nodded, her smile widening. “I did the test last night.”

Aemond let out a soft laugh, overwhelmed with emotion, and his hand instinctively moved to her stomach. “We’re having another baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Just then, a small voice broke the moment. “Mama! Dada!” shouted Jack as he came toddling over to them with his arms outstretched.

Aemond bent down, picking up their son and holding him between them. “Come here” he said, smiling as Jack nestled into his chest.

The three of them swayed together in a perfect family embrace, still moving to the music.

“Mama so pretty,” Jack said, his little hand reaching out to touch Y.N’s face.

Aemond smiled at his son’s words and nodded. “I agree,” he said softly, “your mama is very pretty.”

Jack then reached up and gently stroked the scarred side of Aemond’s face. “Love you, Dada,” his innocent voice, his wide eyes filled with affection.

Aemond’s heart swelled, and he leaned into kiss Jack’s forehead. “I love you too, my dragon-”

The night was still in full swing as Aemond made his rounds on the dance floor, enjoying the company of his family.

After the emotional first dance with Y.N., he turned to his mother, Alicent. With a tender smile, Aemond offered her his hand.

"May I have this dance, Mother?" he asked.

Alicent beamed with pride, taking his hand as they began to sway to the soft music. “You’ve grown into such a fine man, Aemond. I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth.

Aemond gave her a small smile, the two sharing a quiet moment, lost in the rhythm of the music.

When the dance ended, Aemond kissed her hand and thanked her before turning to his sister, Helaena.

“Hellie, would you care to dance?” he asked.

Helaena giggled and accepted. The two of them spun gracefully around the dance floor,

Helaena’s light laughter floating through the air. "Your very happy” she noted, her observant eyes watching her brother.

“I am,” Aemond replied, glancing across the room at Y.N., who was dancing with Aegon.

After their dance, Aemond surprised everyone by extending his hand to Rhaenyra.

A few raised eyebrows greeted the gesture, except for Daemon as Aemond wasn’t sure he actually had eyebrows but Rhaenyra smiled softly and accepted.

“It’s nice to see you at peace little brother-” Rhaenyra said as they danced, the tension that had once been between them all but dissolved.

“Thank you for being here sister-” Aemond replied, surprising her with his sincerity.

The two shared a moment of mutual respect before parting ways as the song ended.

Meanwhile, Y.N. was sharing her own dances. Aegon had led her in a playful spin around the dance floor, followed by Daeron, who kept things more formal but couldn’t hide his joy for his brother.

Just as Y.N. was about to sit down, Jace appeared, offering her his hand.

“May I?” Jace asked with a charming smile.

Y.N. smiled back, accepting his hand. They moved together smoothly on the dance floor, and Jace took a moment to compliment her. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you, Jacey,” Y.N. replied, feeling at ease with him.

As they continued to dance, Y.N. expressed her gratitude. “Thank you for coming, Jace. It really means a lot”

Jace gave her a warm smile. “It was nice to receive an invite, after everything.”

Y.N. nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “It’s a shame Luke couldn’t be here, but-for obvious reasons, it’s probably for the best.”

Jace chuckled. “Yeah, probably would’ve found him face-down in the buffet by now.”

Y.N. laughed, the sound light and genuine. “True.”

“I’m glad to see you’re happy,” Jace said softly, his gaze sincere.

“I am,” Y.N. confirmed, her voice steady and content.

Before Jace could say anything else, Aemond appeared, clearing his throat as he approached them.

Jace glanced at Aemond and smiled, leaning in to press a friendly kiss to Y.N.'s cheek. “Look after her,” he told Aemond.

“I will,” Aemond promised, his hand resting possessively on Y.N.'s waist.

After their dance ended, Y.N. excused herself, needing to sit down for a moment. She found a seat next to Aegon, who looked a bit sulky.

“What’s wrong?” Y.N. asked, noticing his pout.

Aegon groaned, “The nice waitress won’t give me a second look. I told her she was beautiful, and she got all huffy.”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow. “Okay-what exactly did you say?”

“I just said she was beautiful, and then she asked if that’s all that mattered to me. I said, what else is there-and she stormed off,” Aegon recounted, looking genuinely baffled.

Y.N. shook her head with a sigh. “Oh dear.”

“I know,” Aegon muttered.

“Have you ever thought of writing a book?” Y.N. asked.

Aegon looked at her, confused. “A book?”

“Yeah, you could call it How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less,” Y.N. teased.

Aegon groaned dramatically. “I haven’t been laid in weeks! I’m worried it’s going to drop off from lack of use-”

Y.N. smirked. “Poor you. Must be awful.”

“It is,” Aegon complained, sinking further into his chair.

Y.N. sighed, looking at him with pity. “Why don’t you go and apologize to the girl? Tell her that whilst you do find her beautiful, you’re also interested in getting to know her as a person. And while you’re at it, you can apologize for being a complete arse-.”

Aegon looked uncertain. “You think that’ll work?”

“You’ll never know unless you try. Now go on,” Y.N. urged him.

Aegon downed the rest of his drink, pressed a sloppy kiss to Y.N.'s cheek, and got up.

With renewed determination, he headed over to the waitress, leaving Y.N. shaking her head and chuckling as she watched him.

As the night began to wind down, Aemond and Y.N. made their way to Jack, who was sitting on Alicent's lap, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

It was getting late, and the little boy was clearly ready for bed. Aemond knelt down in front of him, gently brushing a strand of hair from Jack's forehead.

"Time for bed, little one," Aemond said softly.

Jack looked up at him with sleepy eyes, a small smile forming on his lips. "Love you, Dada," he murmured.

"I love you too, buddy," Aemond whispered, kissing him on the forehead. Y.N. leaned down next, pressing a gentle kiss to Jack's cheek.

"Goodnight, sweet boy. Mama loves you," she whispered.

Jack yawned again and mumbled, "Love you, Mama," before snuggling into Alicent’s arms.

Alicent smiled warmly at the pair. "I'll get him ready for bed and keep an eye on him tonight. You two go enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, Mother," Aemond said, standing and taking Y.N.'s hand as they both nodded gratefully at Alicent.

As they moved back to the main area, they were met by Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Jace, who were making their way over to say their goodbyes.

“Congratulations again,” Rhaenyra said, pulling Y.N. into a hug. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

Daemon clapped Aemond on the shoulder, offering a rare, sincere smile. "You’ve done well. Best of luck to you both."

Jace offered his hand to Aemond, who accepted it with a firm shake, before turning to Y.N. and giving her a smile.

As they bid their farewells, the remaining guests trickled out one by one until only Aemond, Y.N., Helaena, and Daeron remained.

Daeron, who had been lounging comfortably in a chair, suddenly looked around and asked, "Where's Aegon?"

Y.N. laughed softly, leaning back against Aemond. "I think he might have gotten lucky with that waitress."

Right on cue, Aegon appeared in the doorway, looking a bit dishevelled, his shirt half-buttoned and his hair tousled.

He strolled into the room with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. "I sure did," he said, a little too proudly.

Aemond rolled his eye, motioning to Aegon’s mismatched buttons. "You haven’t even dressed yourself properly."

Aegon looked down at his shirt and giggled as he fumbled with the buttons, fixing them. "Oops."

Y.N. couldn't help but laugh. "So, how'd it go?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Aegon let out a contented sigh as he sat down. "Oh, it was fantastic."

Y.N. rolled her eyes. "No, not that. I meant, did you actually apologize for being an arse and tell her you wanted to get to know her?"

Aegon grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I intended to say all that-but when I opened my mouth, I sort of promised her that if she gave me a chance, she wouldn’t be walking straight tomorrow."

Daeron gasped in disbelief. "And that worked?"

"Oh, yeah, it worked,” Aegon said with a smug smile. “I gave her a good going over. She’s currently asleep in the guest room."

Aemond groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’ve left a stranger asleep in my house?"

Aegon shrugged. "She’s not a stranger—her name is-Laura? No, Lina! And I fully intend to go back there for another round in a bit. Gotta make good on my promise."

Y.N. laughed, shaking her head. "You're such a twat."

Aegon just grinned wider. "Yeah, I know."

Aemond stood up and offered Y.N. his hand, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s time we got going.”

Aegon glanced up at them, confused. "Where are you going?"

Before Aemond could answer, Helaena chimed in. “They’re going to a hotel for the night. Mother is staying here with Jack.”

Aegon’s eyes widened in realization. "Oh yeah—wait, Mother’s staying the night?" His expression quickly turned mischievous. "Best tell my girl to keep quiet, she’s a bit of a screamer."

Daeron groaned, his face contorting in horror. "Right, that’s it. I’m going to bed. I just pray that I remembered to pack earplugs."

As Daeron made a hasty exit, Aemond shook his head, pulling Y.N. closer.

He gave Aegon one last exasperated look before leading his bride toward the door, eager to finally have some time alone with her.

“Good luck with that, brother,” Aemond muttered under his breath, causing Y.N. to stifle a giggle as they headed out, leaving Aegon and his questionable decisions behind for the night.

The warm steam of the hot tub swirled gently into the night air as Aemond relaxed against the edge, his back resting between Y.N.'s legs as she dipped her feet into the bubbling water.

A soft sigh escaped him as her fingers worked into the muscles of his shoulders, easing away any lingering tension from the long and emotional day. He held a glass of champagne in one hand, lazily swirling the liquid.

"This feels awful," he muttered, taking a sip. "Drinking alcohol when you can't."

Y.N. chuckled softly from behind him, her fingers still kneading his shoulders. "It's our wedding night, Aemond. You deserve to get plastered."

He glanced up at her with a smile, appreciating her sense of humour as always. "Thank the gods this place includes breakfast," he mused, "because I’m going to need a bit of stodge to soak up all this drink."

Y.N. laughed, her soft voice carrying over the quiet of the night. The sound of water gently lapping against the sides of the tub mixed with their shared warmth and closeness, making the moment feel even more intimate.

Aemond closed his eye, leaning further into her touch as she continued her gentle massage.

"You’re not disappointed we didn’t go on a proper honeymoon, are you?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Not at all," Y.N. replied, her hands moving up to his neck, her thumbs working gentle circles against his skin. "I actually prefer this. I’m not ready to leave Jack for more than a night yet."

Aemond gave a small hum of agreement. "Me either, to be honest," he admitted. He loved their son fiercely, and the thought of being far from him for an extended time didn’t sit well. "Maybe when the kids are older, we can get away properly."

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed softly, her fingers drifting up into his hair, combing through the damp strands with gentle strokes.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the serenity of the night.

Aemond groaned softly in pleasure as Y.N.'s fingers worked their magic. "I wish you were in here with me," he murmured, tipping his head back slightly to look up at her.

"So do I," Y.N. replied, smiling down at him. "But it’s not safe for the baby."

Her hands continued to stroke through his hair, the act more intimate than any words they could share at that moment.

"I love you so much," Aemond whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion.

Y.N. leaned down, her lips brushing his temple as she whispered back, "I love you too, Aemond. More than anything."

They stayed like that, wrapped in the warmth of the hot tub and the love they had built together, the night perfect in its simplicity.

It wasn’t the grand honeymoon that some would expect, but it was theirs—and that was all that mattered.

The End.

[cutieeva]

Returned Home

Female reader

Warnings : Death. Murder.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

What happens if the person you love went missing and suddenly reappear in your doorsteps ? Because (Y/N) doesn't know how to react.

Knocks at the door were light at first, almost like a whisper before turning into frantic and loud like screams that (Y/N)'s sleep broke, a whine slip past her lips not loving the thought of her rare sleep intruded, all after that incident she almost at the verge of becoming the shell of a human, always worrying, little guilty yet hollow the entire time. Perhaps time will heal her wounds and pause the bleeding unfortunately not the knocking because it keeps increasing in alarming amount. She thought in her daze mind, wrapping a soft cloth around her nightdress she step out of the sofa, how tragic despite having warm bed, beautiful home with many rooms the only place she fell asleep was on the sofa in living room in front of the still on TV which is repeatedly showing some episodes of only murders in the building her mind has almost memorized.

"Coming !" She yell, messaging her forehead, feeling her head burn from both the torturous knocks and the stress of what if the twins wake up. Her feet drum the white tiles walking towards the front door and finally her eyes open to peek at the peekhole for safety. Huh ? She rub her eyes once more to peek yet why all she can see is black ? Her fogged mind question not still awaken from the slumped when she flinch feeling the knocks vibrate the door so closely.

"Who is this ?" Her voice stern, not fearful she could have been if awake, adamant to not open the door. Silence replies her. No voice only silence along the knocks. Her eyes narrow feeling her body ache from pain and the headache worsen. "These children". Her neighborhood is fill with all age children and unlike her sweet twin angels, these ones are the demons, the one she was thankful to not have. Oh, remind of her babies, what time is it ? Her eyes glance at the clock on the wall 7:00 am, whoa ? Which child is playing pranks at her doorsteps instead of being in school ? Oh ! Today is Sunday she forgets.

Must make breakfast she thought, her lips shaped a yawn about to walk away from the door "It's......me". Her heart sank, breath sucked. "(Y/N)". She remembers that voice, her whole fabric of being knows that voice, the voice she heard, whisper sweet nothings, laughs loudly, quick to anger, arrogance in his speech. In a second her hand having a mind of it's own, touch the shivering cold doorknob, twist it to unlock and swing open fast enough to not gave chance for the creaking noise.

Revealing the visage of none other than her husband, Vesper Rufus who is missing for two months after the alone trip to mountain.

Munch ! Cracks ! The noise of his devouring simple milk with cornflakes sends strange feelings within herself. Sitting across the dinning table of her husband who's black shirt made her recall it's original color white with his pale skin painted in faded marks of nasty bruises and bite marks belonging to animals, even insects she suspect, a grime cast her face merely thinking of what he went through to be alive in that forest where no police, forest rangers, rescue rangers even herself couldn't find. Hell, the helicopter wasn't of helped. Her eyes then slide below his body that is hidden by the counter where his pants are in the same condition, grey pants painted in coal. Her head span to her behind looking at the door to see no shoes of his as she found him barefoot with crimson hue smeared over his feet.

Click ! Her thoughts snap at the noise of his meal finish turning her vision to his face, dirt, scratchs cover his blemished handsome face. A smile lift those once perfect plump lips now dry and chapped. A happy sparkle in those pools of eyes she fell for that with time and marriage forgetton to dust leaving only a usual reflection of hers she used to bore before he went missing. Suddenly a yearning ache pull her body towards him, stand down from the metal chair, silently cross the line of space and stood under those eyes. Immediately she was hit by the smell of dust, rot, filth yet without a second she throw her arms around him, surrounding her body into his and hug him tightly, the cold body.

Her lids cover her vision, soaking into the frosty embrace and slowly she sense his arms embracing her back, gently to tightly and burying his face into her curve of neck like she was his roof, her shelter he just been gifted.

"Where were you these two months ?" Tears she thought were dried roll down her cheek, her voice soft. "The kids were crying". she added flood with the images of her twin sons wailing at the first news of their father might never returned as the police declared him dead saying no man has the capacity to survive in that stormy mountain more than two weeks and he was missing for two months. Perhaps they didn't found the body because the wild nature covet him or the animals feasted upon him. She likes to think the former. But now she knows, she knows they didn't find his body because he was alive all along.

"Children ?" She felt him title his head in her neck. "Ah ! Children, the twins". His voice muffed and horse like decades of out of speech. Softly like she handle her flowers she lean away from the embrace regardless of his hands still on her waist.

"You remember who am I right ?" Vesper nod like a good man he never was.

"(Y/N) Rufus, my wife, my soulmate". Those sharp onyx eyes that slice her heart multiple times tendered looking at her as if for the first time seen her, feel and stare so intimately at her. Never did she thought the gaze will be directly to her again after their dating phrase pass into the marriage years.

"And about the children ?" She ask, tip toe up to him, pressing her body, her breast to his and lips inches away. Intoxicated he looked, like sipped a bottle of beer he drunk with pink tints on his cheeks to ears, falling in her spell as if for first time he fell in love.

"Leo, Felix". Breathless he answered, leaning closer to her, brushing his lips with her yet not closing the gap. Why ? She wonder because never did her husband cared for her consent. If his sexual desire awaken he will use her like a escort not a wife. From the beginning he announce his ownership on her like she was a object and her past self mistook it as romantic and after marriage she was a servant. Never a wife, was a lover.

Maybe that's why his missing didn't pain her as much to shed a single tear until now when he is different, his warmth disappear, his arrogance fended leaving a stranger in her arms and she still kiss the stranger. Her lips collide his and it confirmed more. How naive his kiss is like he is exploring her, knowing her for the first time unlike him, who knew her like the back of his palm or— perhaps it's his self pleasure he knew like the back of his palm. Never hers, not after their marriage. The brand of ring tied their fates together as well as ruinning.

Not a hint of bad breath or taste she felt oddly, rather bitter taste of nature hits her when their lips met, at first like a careful of understanding he press their lips hard before she open her lips, giving him the space to enter and he mirrored it, like a learning child slide his tongue, following his guts and savoring her hotly, a contrast to his frosty body. Tips of tongue tease her inner flesh as he wish like she is his salvation before harshly mushing their body and lips more near than humanely possible, with brim of desire and addiction he bite her lips, tongue tenderly, exchanging sliver salivas and breathing heavily like he was suffocated yet not ready to leave as he continue to drove deeper, deeper into the mouth and (Y/N) felt being devoured by a predator not her husband who never with such passion held her, gave her pleasure.

Heart racing and breath threating to stop she ripped herself away, coughing fits at multiple times and drinking water unlike him, his lips hanged open, eyes beastly nothing similar to the sparkly happiness and red blush adore his pale skin. Their eyes met and without another warning he smashed their lips.

"You are so sweet, so deliciously sweet". Mumble his horse voice in the kiss, eating her lips like she was a dinner, shamelessly staring at her while invading her mouth and she let him, kiss her as if her being was the only source of meal. Been ages did her husband desire her such as this moment not to mention it proves more he wasn't her Vesper and it brought her nothing apart from relief.

Suddenly he paused, eyes wide and grip tighten. She slowly freed her swollen lips yet dig the knife deeper in his back. Yes, while he was under the spell of his lust, she went near him— more like near the knife set and stab him at his weakest moment.

"Who are you ?" Calmly she asked, hearing the thrives of her knife twisting his skin, flesh yet no trickle of blood bleeding. Strange she thought glances up again meeting his blank face. Not the agonizing look of a man being stabbed. Not her real husband who's eyes were betrayed, tears sliding and blood bled from her mouth like a fat fish squeeze out of it's body as before.

"Who the fuck are you when I killed my husband with my own hands ? When I buried his body under the solid of that mountain ?" Gritten her teeth, the mask of calmness cracked as she pulled the knife out desire to see the blood bled out of the man she loves so much, devote her life, birth children cutting from her flesh yet he cheated on her bluntly and gaslit her when confronted and spiral into questioning her own sanity. However no blood slide, no scarlet paint his pale skin.

"How ?" She whispered, in more disbelief of him not bleeding than her dead husband who she clearly murdered after planning thoroughly knowing his plan of visiting the mountain which he lied saying he is going alone when in reality his mistress and him will intertwined in ways she can't imagine and follow him before the mistress meets him and killed him brutely, stabbing him fourteen times in his entire body leading his death due to blood loss and burying deep into the soil that took hours only to return home unscathed.

Erriely quiet the stranger wore her husband's skin stare at her angered ones and part his lips. "I see, no wonder that was the most gruesome body I ever seen—" The raspy voice slowly get used to speech pause and (Y/N) sense him debeating. "And wore". The end words was something she couldn't swallow, couldn't avert eyes nor run hearing the conformation in his own voice.

"Who are you then ?" She tremble. He notice.

"Who am I ?" He tilt his head mirroring a clueless being. "Who am I ? What am I ? Doesn't matter because what am I isn't what suppose to exist yet I do and now I am your husband yet not. The body is his, yet what inside is not". Game of puzzle he answered. "I won't die, never bled nor need of humane things. I am of a being neither alive nor dead". Neutral his voice rang her ears echoing inside and frighting from the laughable answer but she knew better to laugh. No other way could her husband retrieve from dead than be possessed by something inhumane, abnormal like the myths tales of creatures she heard.

"Then, will you kill me ?" She let go the blade that isn't even paint in blood, shining her terrified reflection as it was fell on the floor with a biting click.

"No. I like you". A short answer relief her stress a little. "You taste sweet, you smell sweet and you are sweet. I want to cherish you, kiss you like I did. I want to claim you mine". Chanting every word he pepper kiss over her skin. Worshipping, caressing each curve, drinking her making her visible relax and something in her tells it's safe. He is safe—to her. Why ? maybe because her husband terrifies her more than a creature from tale.

"And my children ?" Her words carefully used. Her, not their. He halted in his actions. Inhaling her fabric when he reunite their lips again.

"Not them. Because they are ours. You are my wife, my soulmate and they are our children". Yes, it is because the moment he smell of unwelcome human scent in his home, he prepared to feast them, chew their bones and if unlucky torture them until they beg to death however it changed finding one glimpse of the beautiful woman bearing bloodlust and hatred the creature swore he saw her shining upon a halo and the way of her body soaked in blood of the man's arouse humanely needs he never felt apart from endless hunger. This hunger was different, pleasureful he seen these humans do sometimes before their withered body aside inside his stomach.

He watched the angelic woman, the lymph of paradise left the man buried and he walked out of the shadows to the place the man is under, saw his belongings along his address and the lymph is his wife— (Y/N) with twin sons. Good she killed him before he had to and now she is his, her children is his, all of her is his alone.

Tiny groans, tapping of floor steal their attention and (Y/N) watched her children wore night outfits walking towards the open kitchen, rubbing their hazy eyes.

"Mama I am hungry". Her three old years son said, the older one between them.

"Me too ! But I want pizza". The younger twin said, opening his eyes only to widen and grasp loudly. "Papa !" Following a joyful scream his tiny feet ran to the stranger wore their father's skin and the older twin also stare, face brighten in happiness the mother didn't saw since he was missing. His body was thrown to their father too and unnatural, his arms touch them back, still glancing to see (Y/N)'s visage than theirs.

Touching his familiar face, she caress saying "Yes, papa has returned home". The man lean in decided not the say one more thing, actually the real husband she killed was alive the time he was standing above the ground however he killed him again. For good and twice his death was before taking his skin.

"Indeed I have". Smiling crazily. "Returned home".

FIN

[pandapetals]

Logan's Hair

logan howlett x afab!reader - established relationship, logan's kitten ear hair, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description

You tease Logan about his hair.

read on Ao3

You had always wondered how—or more importantly, why—Logan’s hair looked the way it did. For months before the two of you got together, you had convinced yourself that his hair had a mind of its own, like some wild animal that refused to be tamed. The way it spiked up into those two distinct points, almost like little kitty ears, seemed so fitting for him—tough, a bit feral, but somehow endearing.

After dating him for a while now, you have come to realize the truth. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t some strange mutation in his hair follicles. No, it was something Logan did on purpose.

You’d caught him early one morning, just before dawn, standing in front of the mirror in the tiny shared bathroom, his broad shoulders hunched over the sink as he carefully applied gel to his thick, dark hair. He didn’t notice you at first as he meticulously shaped the two points on top of his head, squinting at his reflection with the same focus he gave to dangerous missions.

At the time, you had hidden behind the doorway, biting back a grin as you watched him. The fierce, brooding Logan—Wolverine, the man who could take down an entire squad of enemies without breaking a sweat—was spending his precious early morning minutes making sure his hair was just right.

Now, lying in bed beside him, you peeked at his sleeping form, the early morning light streaming in through the curtains, casting soft shadows on his face. His hair, as usual, was spiked up in its signature style, even though he was fast asleep. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the sight of him so peaceful and unguarded.

He stirred slightly, the arm draped around your waist tightening as he pulled you a little closer in his sleep. You grinned to yourself, unable to resist teasing him when he woke up.

"How does it do that?" you whispered to yourself, your fingers reaching up to gently poke at one of the spiked points of his hair. "It’s like your hair has superpowers of its own."

Logan let out a low, sleepy grunt, blinking his eyes open as he slowly came to. His face scrunched up in confusion for a moment as he registered your finger poking at his head.

“What the hell are you doin’?” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, though there was no edge to it.

You bit back a giggle, biting your lip to keep the teasing at bay for a moment longer. “Just... admiring your handiwork,” you replied innocently, your finger poking at his hair again.

Logan’s brow furrowed, still half-asleep but now fully aware of your teasing. “What are you talkin’ about?”

You rolled onto your side to face him, propping yourself up on one elbow, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Your hair,” you said, giving it a playful ruffle. “How long does it take you to get it looking like this every morning?”

Logan blinked at you, clearly not in the mood for teasing this early in the day. “It just does that,” he grumbled, though his tone held no real annoyance. “You messin’ with me this early, darlin’?”

You snickered, your hand still in his hair, gently combing through it now. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen you in front of the mirror, Logan. Don’t pretend like this,” you gave one of his spikes a soft tug, “isn’t on purpose.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. “It’s called style, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It looks like you’ve got little cat ears.”

Logan groaned, but you could see the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Cat ears? Really?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, your grin growing wider. “It’s cute. You’re like a big, tough kitten.” You reached out, tapping him lightly on the nose for good measure.

Logan huffed, his voice low and growly, but there was no real bite to it. “Don’t call me cute.”

“Oh, but you are,” you teased, leaning in closer. “Especially when you’re standing in front of the mirror with your little tub of hair gel, making sure every spike is just perfect.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk now fully visible. “You been spyin’ on me?”

“Maybe,” you replied, biting back another giggle. “I just think it’s funny. The Wolverine spends ten minutes every morning making sure his hair is all spiky and feral. What would the others think?”

Logan’s smirk widened into a grin, and he reached out, pulling you into his chest as you let out a playful squeak. “Well, the others don’t get to see me in the morning, do they?”

You blushed, smiling as you snuggled into him, resting your head on his chest. “No, I guess they don’t.”

His hand found your hair, his fingers brushing through it in soft, lazy strokes. “You like it,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but now teasing.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your smile widening against his chest. “I do,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “Even if it does look like kitty ears.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest as his arms tightened around you. “I might have to stop stylin’ it like that if you’re gonna keep callin’ me a kitten.”

“Oh, please,” you laughed, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Logan grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah? Why not?”

“Because I’d never let you hear the end of it,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “And besides, it is kind of sexy. The whole rugged, untamed look.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the compliment. “Sexy, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, your lips brushing against his skin. “And just a little bit adorable.”

Logan let out another groan, his hand slipping down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I told you, don’t call me adorable.”

You grinned, nestling against him. “Whatever you say, kitten.”

Logan growled playfully, but his hand on your back was gentle, comforting. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You smiled, resting your cheek against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. “I know.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the teasing fading into a quiet intimacy. Logan’s fingers continued to thread through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all so familiar, so comforting.

Eventually, the teasing slipped away entirely, replaced by a peaceful contentment as you lay there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth. Outside, the early morning light continued to grow, casting soft rays of sunlight through the window, but neither of you was in a hurry to get up.

You could spend hours like this, tangled up with him, his presence grounding you in a way that no one else ever could. And even though you loved teasing him, you knew that underneath all the playful banter was something deeper—something solid and real.

Logan, with his spiky hair and gruff exterior, was everything you never expected but everything you needed. And as you lay there in the quiet of the morning, you couldn’t help but think that you were exactly where you were meant to be.