#and therefore he would not have been public for

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: truly awful day in every sense of the word — and then there’s him, spencer reid, armed with a small moral mission to make it at least a little better for you. the question is — will he succeed?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, light cat scratch on reader's face (nothing serious) reader being mad and frustrated at the entire universe (fair enough) mention of their little argument and the overall tension, “what happened to yearning—” ITS RIGHT THERE B* + neck massage xx

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.2k

𝐚/𝐧: request

That day started with a scratch.

And quite literally.

Somehow, your beloved fluffy muffin tiny bundle firstborn princess dearest kitten daughter managed to land her paws right on your face, leaving behind a souvenir running along your cheekbone. The first pain you felt that day. The second one settled in your neck and shoulders, taking the form of sharp tension — you and your flatmate had a rule of taking turns with the big, comfy bed, which meant that every other night you had to sleep on the couch.

In the morning rush, you didn’t even have time to properly look at the scratch — you simply covered it with a layer of makeup and headed…to the subway station. The car was in the shop, and it was going to stay there for a few more days. A solidly unfortunate start to the day.

Funny how everything that happened next turned into a real rollercoaster of bad luck, with people riding it, throwing their hands up in euphoric excitement and screaming whaaat dooo youuu saaay nooow biiitch!

The barista messing up your order — and on top of that, arguing with you that you must’ve given it wrong. Rushing into work late thanks to that argument. Spilling coffee all over your favourite shirt on the way to the lab. And a whole crowd of people collectively deciding that this was the perfect moment to cut their IQ in half, execute the last of their brain cells, bombard you with a stream of pointless, redundant questions and generally piss you off.

The ones who weren’t pissing you off got caught in the crossfire too. Poor Winchester had already been trying to tiptoe around you all day — bless him for that — but even that didn’t save him from the curse of this particular day.

By the time it finally ended, you made your way back to the apartment…also by public transport. Judging by the smell, the people around you had had a rough day too. A very sweaty one. And they all apparently shared a passionate disdain for that remarkable human invention called deodorant.

But even though you had a strong urge to just storm into the apartment and throw yourself onto the bed — which, for tonight, finally belonged to you — you hesitated for a second before putting the key in the lock. You and Spencer had…argued. The thing with you two was that you could argue loudly, dramatically, and passionately — about the most ridiculous, pointless topics, like the mother of the main character in a novel you both happened to read one after the other, which, frankly, wasn’t even that rare now that you shared an apartment, space, and therefore, a bookshelf.

But then there were the more serious fights. The quiet ones. The ones that echoed between you for days, even though barely a word had been spoken.

This…was one of those.

You hoped he wasn’t inside. That he got wrapped up in some time-consuming case and wouldn’t come back until you were already asleep. Just…hopefuly not a really hard case for him.

*

Spencer, of course, couldn’t have known about the hesitation happening on the other side of the door. It just so happened that he was waiting for her arrival and had sprung to life at the sound of the key in the lock, rehearsing a general script of the conversation he wanted to have. Above all, he wanted to apologize once more for slipping up to Penelope about their shared secret. Not that it would turn back time, but he felt it was necessary. Or at least it was something he could do to slightly melt the icy wall that had formed between them. He had no other ideas.

Standing in the living room, he froze for a moment, motionless. He heard it — the sound of the door closing with force and the abrupt toss of keys onto the dresser by the door. And that was all it took for him to retreat. Those were not signals indicating any desire for interaction with the person who had recently pissed you off and toward who you still held a grudge or let alone any desire for a genuine conversation.

He spun around in circles like an ant, a bit unsure of what he should do. His flatmate almost immediately went to the bedroom that was hers that day, she didn’t even stop to greet the cat, who was currently doing yoga on the TV cabinet. And that alone was a clear sign that something was wrong. Maybe the whole day was just off.

As he pondered what to do — mainly considering abandoning his apology plans altogether or postponing them to another time — his gaze landed on Marie stretching out her front paws, and he thought about how apologies didn’t have to be a huge, loud gesture with fireworks and a big red bow, they could also unfold more gently, evolving naturally.

He started by finding the TV remote and turning on RuPaul’s Drag Race show he absolutely didn’t understand at all, but knew she liked. He was careful with the volume: not too loud so it wouldn’t seem intrusive, but loud enough for her to hear and catch her attention. Then he went to the kitchen to grab two mugs and start brewing tea. He pretended to be completely focused on the process and acted as if he hadn’t heard her leave the bedroom and appear on the opposite side of the kitchen island, gliding her hand along it as she approached.

He looked up at her only when she was standing directly across, separated by nothing but the sharp edge of the countertop, her eyebrows raised suspiciously. “Watching my show?” she asked.

Spencer shrugged, the nonchalance and innocence in the gesture perhaps a little overdone.

“I’m just making some tea,” he replied calmly, pouring boiling water into the two mugs. “Maybe Marie accidentally stepped on the remote.”

He turned to put the kettle down just as she snorted.

“Definitely,” she commented sarcastically, pausing for a moment. “I don’t recall you ever drinking my tea before.”

“Well, I figured I needed some…” he dragged out the sentence, recalling what kind of tea it was. Lavender. What does lavender do? “Calming down.” Every tea is good for calming down.

She snorted again. Spencer turned back toward her.

“You must really need it if you made two cups right away.”

He parted his lips, staring intently at the mugs as if the second one had just materialized before his eyes.

“I have no idea how that happened. But since it’s here…” he nodded suggestively toward the cup that just happened to be her favorite.

He saw in her gaze that she perfectly understood why he was doing this, but she wasn’t about to just give in and forget how things stood between them. Spencer, however, felt unusually confident in his game, sensing this would soon lead to progress between them. Like it or not, she was already part of his teasing and that always spoke well of their relationship.

But that confidence and ease suddenly left him when he dropped his shoulders in surprise, noticing something odd on her cheek, gently emerging from beneath the hair covering it. Instinctively, unable to stop himself, he reached to brush it aside and reveal the scratch.

“What happened to your cheek?” he asked.

As he could have predicted, she turned her head, dodging his fingers.

“Nothing,” she replied.

Spencer didn’t stop staring, a little too insistently, so she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Marie scratched me when we were sleeping together. Somehow.”

Okay, he was willing to believe that version, but that didn’t mean he intended to drop the subject. Especially not after taking a closer look.

“Your nothing is all swollen,” he remarked.

Her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders rising slightly in a dismissive gesture.

“Because it was suffocating under makeup all day, which I only just took off. That’s why it’s swollen now.”

“That’s…not exactly reasonable from a medical point of view.”

“Oh, wow, what an absolute breakthrough,” she snapped at him so unexpectedly that he flinched a little. Her arms dropped to her sides in frustration, there was nothing dismissive about her posture anymore. “I know it’s swollen! And that it’s not exactly reasonable from a medical point of view,” she dropped her voice dramatically, twisting her face to mimic his expression.“But I had to deal with it somehow, because I had to leave the apartment in a rush since my car’s at the mechanic’s and it’ll be there for another week, which means I’m stuck with public transport full of people who apparently don’t believe in basic hygiene!”

Spencer didn’t interrupt that sudden crash out, letting it run its course as he listened to the string of bitter words spilling from her mouth. When she finally finished, a moment of heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of the cat jumping off the cabinet somewhere in the distance.

“I think you should take a shower,” he finally stated, slowly.

Her head recoiled slightly in confusion, followed by a dismissive wave of her hand.

“And on top of that, my flatmate telling me I stink.”

He couldn’t help it — he snorted. Gently.

“What I’m saying is, it helps. Public transport is literally a germ chamber, and that awareness always makes me feel gross for a few hours after I get off. And when I feel gross, everything feels overwhelming and frustrating. So, that’s my heartfelt advice,” he declared, patting his chest chivalrously.He watched her expression carefully, noticing it wasn’t nearly as sharp as before, so he risked adding, “And when you’ve showered, come back here. I’ll take a look at that scratch on your cheek.”

He saw the subtle bite to the inside of her cheek in thought, and how her arms returned to their crossed position over her chest. He expected a slight nod, maybe an enigmatic answer along the lines of we’ll see.

Shaking her head in clear refusal, she surprised him.

“No. Don’t forget we’re still not on good terms and I haven’t forgiven you for spilling to Penelope.”

Spencer pressed his lips together. He held her gaze, unsure what to say, until he realized…she hadn’t moved. She was still standing right there, eyes fixed on him. If they were really on bad terms, for starters, they wouldn’t even be living together.

So, he decided — a little impulsively — that he’d handle this by briefly assuming the role of a dictator. He grabbed the handles of both mugs.

“You’ll come. Otherwise, your tea will go completely cold and I’ll have to pour it out.”

With those words, he sent her one last expectant look before heading to the living room, where the episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race was just wrapping up.

When she actually went to take a shower and the next episode started, Spencer didn’t bother watching. Instead, he gathered the most basic items to disinfect the wound and ease the swelling.

He also put a great deal of effort into keeping his face from betraying any trace of triumph when she returned 15 minutes later with damp hair and dressed in more comfortable clothes.

With exaggerated, fake displeasure on her face — to show just how indifferent she supposedly was to his advice — though even in the way she moved, there was a clear, undeniable hint of relaxation.

She sat down, tucking her heels onto the couch and taking a sip of the still-warm tea. Spencer allowed himself to take advantage of the moment to gently, with literally one finger, brush the damp strands of hair away from her cheek and carefully spray it with disinfectant.

She winced at him accusingly.

“In my opinion, rinsing it under the shower would’ve been enough, it’s a shallow scratch. Marie would never hurt her mom badly, not even by accident. But do what you want, doctor.”

Completely undeterred, Spencer set the spray aside to grab the cold compress meant to reduce the swelling and pressed it against her cheek for a moment — after which her hand took over on its own, holding it in place.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he declared arrogantly, glancing meaningfully at the scratch. “Since this happened…”

She kept her eyes on the TV screen the entire time, but suddenly shot him a brief sideways glance and he could’ve sworn there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips.

“It’s all because of the bed swapping. It messes with her little head. She probably thought she was attacking you.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And why would she want to attack me?”

An innocent shrug.

“Possibly because I whispered her a word or two.”

Spencer went quiet for a moment not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he was scanning the living room for a certain small, black creature. And when he finally made eye contact with it, he had to let out a soft pspspsss for the naive little thing to trustingly trot over to him.

The woman pretended not to watch as he picked up Marie (whose body behaved like a loose spring, stretching downward until he settled her comfortably in his arms) but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Her eyes were supposedly glued to the TV but if someone asked what exactly she was watching, she’d stumble over the answer.

“Well hello there,” he whispered to the cat, scratching her behind the ear. “I heard someone here wanted to attack me in my sleep. How do you explain yourself, young lady?”

He glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eye, catching her gaze just as it slipped off his face and landed on Marie. He continued, “You can’t always trust your mom, sometimes she tells pure lies—”

He got smacked over the head with the cold compress.

“Hey, don’t you dare turn my baby against me!”

Beneath all that outrage, there was a solid dose of amusement — and he fully intended to bring it out. He scooted closer to her on the couch, positioning Marie right in front of her. He cleared his throat.

“She’s a little shy to ask herself but she wants to know if you’ve forgiven her. It really was just an accident, and she regrets it. She doesn’t want it to have a bad impact on the two of you.”

He said it under the weight of her stare, fixed directly on his face. Spencer finished speaking, his lips pressing together with a certain awkwardness that was entirely his, not hers. The moment he had to spend sitting in that discomfort was probably his punishment — but the kind that felt so deserved you almost went through it willingly.

Only after a long pause did she roll her eyes, a faint smile curling at the corners of her lips.

“Tell her that yes, I forgive her,” she requested, leaning forward slightly to press a kiss to the cat’s head.

But suddenly, she caught his gaze and held it firmly.

“Almost.”

“What do you mean almost?” he asked, a little impulsively.

She took a calm sip of tea.

“Well, there’s one thing you could do to make it fully happen,” she announced mysteriously. Spencer patiently waited for her to tell him what that was. She tilted her head to the side, stretching her neck.

“My neck’s killing me from that couch. My whole shoulders are tense.”

“You want a massage, am I right?”

As much as understanding anything usually came to him — well, euphemistically speaking — slowly, he figured that one out almost immediately, which seemed to surprise even her. She gave him a skeptical look.

“You seem weirdly excited about that idea.”

“That’s because, as it happens, I’m an expert at it.”

She snorted, clearly not buying it. She was probably waiting for him to say he was joking, that he actually knew nothing about massages — but that moment never came. Because Spencer really was an expert at it.

Or well…at the very least, he was very good.

She shook her head in firm denial.

“No, you’re not,” she stated confidently.

Spencer nodded in agreement — but to himself.

“I am. When JJ was pregnant…”

“…you gave her massages?”

“Not her. Will. In the third trimester, she was a little moody and the poor guy kept ending up sleeping on the couch. So yes, as it happens, I can consider myself an expert in this field.”

She snorted with laughter at that little story and took the last sip of her tea, widening her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t believe she was actually agreeing to this.

“Alright then. Let’s give it a try.”

“Alright then,” he echoed her a little absentmindedly, nodding to himself. But then he quickly pulled himself together and cleared his throat twice for good measure.

“Turn around.”

First, she made sure her hair wasn’t resting on her neck or back before fully complying with the instruction. Meanwhile, Spencer took a deeper breath. Okay — this was a little different from massaging a sleep-deprived Will, who would’ve probably been grateful even if Spencer had treated his neck with a jackhammer and called it the most relaxing experience of his life.

He deliberately hesitated before touching her — forcing himself not to give the impression he was bluffing his way through this.

First, only the tips of his fingers rested just below her ears, followed by his whole hands slowly gliding down. That’s how this process was supposed to start — warming up the skin.

Thankfully, he’d just finished his tea, so his body was naturally warm, especially his hands from holding the mug. That alone had to feel pleasant…but the woman gave no indication whatsoever that it actually did, which sent him spiraling into quiet self-doubt.

He gave that stage all the time it deserved, until his hands started moving along her neck and shoulders with growing confidence and ease. He gave it so much time, in fact, that it earned him a doubtful shake of her head.

“You know what, I’m not sure it’s supposed to—”

She abruptly cut off when his fingers found a spot on her neck where he could clearly feel the tension, pressing into it with practiced precision.

Her entire body shifted under the influence of the breath she drew in and then released as a quiet, involuntary moan of relief.

And although that sound was particularly encouraging when it came to continuing the massage, Spencer paused for a moment, his hands resting gently on both of her shoulders as he leaned over her shoulder to ask,

“So, how’s that forgiveness coming along now?”

She tried to turn her head to look at him, which didn’t work because of the way their bodies were positioned. But if she had managed it, he’d bet anything it would’ve been the most electrifying, impatient glare in the world.

“Keep that up, and then we’ll think about it.”

Spencer smiled—to himself, since she couldn’t see it anyway. He smiled with certainty, because if that small taste had caused such a reaction, he was curious how she’d respond to more.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Thank you! I didn’t think I would enjoy writing them this was as much as I do. It’s a lot less angsty than I originally envisioned at first which has been fun.

Darling definitely struggles with anxiety, but everyone really is trying to help her. She has a great support system. Growing up under a totalitarian dictatorship has to be traumatic, no matter how much support she has. I think also, as I’ve explored these different story lines, it usually is the oldest child (Everest in Moves & Countermoves on Peeta & Katniss’ victory tour and surrounding the events of the Quarter Quell is a great example) or the child who is labeled as ‘different’ by the court of public opinion (Honey in the winner takes it all and Darling in this series) often struggles the most with their role within the family unit. They are trying to win the approval of the Capitol and Snow by over compensating and taking on this ‘perfect’ persona.

Haymitch probably doesn’t express his feelings towards Tyson very often. Just because everything is so complicated, but they really do love and care for each other. Yes, Tyson’s family has the hook ups outside the districts lol.

Haymitch has completely given up any hope of ever taking down Snow and the Capitol. His only focus is protecting his family, which is understandable given what’s happened in the past. Like he believes they’re never going to be free, so they just have to lay low as much as they can.

Tyson and Y/N value the possibility of freedom over a life trapped in the situation they are in. Tyson, as far as Snow’s concerned, is just a man blinded by love who will do anything for this ‘jezebel’ who’s enchanted him. (He’s projecting his experience with Lucy Gray onto them.) Therefore Tyson is not a threat to him and not being watch as closely as Y/N is, he has the freedom to have private conversations with Plutarch. But Y/N obviously knows what’s up.

Katniss and Peeta are coming! There’s a little bit of a time jump at the beginning of next chapter and we get their thoughts on their ‘weird’ mentors.

They will soon Super Trouper their way to the revolution!

Illicit Affairs (Part 2)

Summary: Fifteen years ago Haymitch Abernathy devised a plan to save both his tributes from the arena. As Y/N and her district partner, Tyson, continue to play out their roles as Star-Crossed lovers, things become more complicated. Warning: implied sexual content, alcoholism, drug use and infidelity. It’s more of an open marriage really.

Part 1

A week later, Haymitch shows up at Y/N’s door. Taking her up on the ‘family’ dinner offer.

The woman who answers is not Y/N, her long dark hair is held away from her face in a low bun, secured at the nape of her neck. Sporting a simple blue dress, she looks entirely at ease. At home even. “Haymitch, wow. Nice to officially meet you, I’m Perry.”

“Haymitch,” he takes her hand, shaking once before releasing it.

“Thanks for coming, Y/N wasn’t sure you would.”

“Is she here?”

“Of course! Come in, dinner’s on the table.” She swings the door open a bit wider for him.

Dinner is a full spread, prepared by Perry herself. With Tyson’s help of course.

Y/N’s husband pours Haymitch a glass of their best wine, a gift from the Capitol to celebrate their anniversary. “This is immaculate. Aged to perfection, made from the sweetest berries in Panem. Smell it.”

“I’m not smelling it.” Haymitch doesn’t even give a shit what it tastes like, so long as he’s drunk enough for this.

Tyson laughs, shaking his head. “Alright.”

Victor watches on, from his seat. “Hi, Haymitch.”

“Hi.”

The boy smiles, kicking his legs beneath the table.

“Stop,” Darling chastises. “Be still.”

“You doing alright over there, Darling?” Haymitch asks.

“It’s not polite to squirm at the table.”

“Well it’s just us for now.” Haymitch reminds her, though the table is set for many more. “I won’t tell.”

Darling visibly relaxes, shoulders sagging, elbows propped up on the table. “It’s different in the Capitol.” The days are long; expectations rigid. She has to be perfect, never a hair out of place.

Haymitch stiffens, “I know, but you’re safe here.” You’re safe with me. “Worry about being a kid, ok?”

Darling nods, “ok.”

When Y/N emerges from the washroom to find Haymitch at the table, her stomach flips again. This time with nerves, instead of nausea. “You came.”

“You asked me to.” Haymitch murmurs.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Y/N says, taking the seat directly across from him. “This looks amazing.” Y/N smiles, taking in the arrangement of food.

“Only the best for you.” Tyson crosses the room to her, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head.

Haymitch clears his throat, stealing a glance at Tyson’s guest, in the corner. Their public display of affection doesn’t seem to phase her.

The Carells and Undersees trickle in. Filling the obscenely long table, from one end to the other.

Tyson waits until everyone is settled to rise from his seat, glass in hand. A toast. “Now that everyone is here, Y/N and I have some big news.”

The room falls into silence, waiting on bated breath.

“You wanna tell them?” Tyson asks, staring down at Y/N.

She schools her expression to one of excitement, taking his hand in hers. “We’re having a baby!”

“I knew it.” Tyson’s mother rejoices, coming around the table to embrace her daughter-in-law. “You’re glowin’.”

Y/N relaxes into her arms, for just a moment. “Thank you, Ma.”

Y/N’s mother, father and sister appear to be the only one’s to abstain from the celebration; besides Haymitch.

Her father scowls at Haymitch, with a shake of his head. He knows. Surely Tyson’s family does too, but they don’t seem to mind.

Tyson’s mother returns Y/N to her son, who is raining kisses over the entirety of Y/N’s face. “Love you so much.”

Y/N smiles, “love you.”

Perry watches on, stroking Darling’s hair. Not nearly as uncomfortable as Haymitch is. Perhaps she is used to this, maybe she knows something he doesn’t.

“Smile, Haymitch.” Darling insists. At all of ten, she is the spitting image of her mother, with her father’s features peppered in. “My parents are having a baby.”

Haymitch blinks at her. Sweet little girl who used to crawl across his lawn when her parents turned their backs for a second… The child he once held in his arms, schooled so heavily into obedience, she performs without a camera in sight.

“Haymitch, Haymitch!” The little boy is bouncing beside his chair.

“Yeah?” Haymitch allows Victor to climb into his lap.

“I want a brother.”

“I’m not sure why you’re telling me, kid. But I hope you get one.” Haymitch tells him. “I had a brother growing up.”

“Where is he?” Victor asks. “He can come too.”

“Victor,” Y/N waves a hand at her son.

“No, Y/N.” Haymitch says, “it’s ok.”

“I don’t want to make you more sad.” Victor stares down at his hands.

Haymitch ruffles his blonde hair. “I’m not sad.”

“You look sad.”

“Victor.” Tyson calls him over, “come on, buddy.”

“I’m gonna head out.” Haymitch excuses himself from the table.

“Wait.” Y/N calls after him.

Logically he knows she wouldn’t invite him here for this. To shove it in his face. “The food was exceptional, but the wine,” he pauses, tossing the rest of it back. “Not nearly strong enough.”

“Haymitch, don’t go.” Tyson tries.

“Congratulations.” Haymitch barely makes it out the door before Tyson reaches him.

“Just hold on a minute.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tyson asks, “dinner? Fine. You don’t have to.”

“This.” Haymitch motions toward the house. “Your family acts like this is some miracle. Do they even know it might not be your kid?”

Tyson huffs a laugh, “it’s not a secret.”

“Y/N’s family doesn’t seem thrilled.”

“Listen, I think they’re just worried. I know you’ve got some…history with them.” Maysilee. “But they’re good people.”

“What about Darling?”

“What about her?” Tyson wonders.

“That kid is wound so tight-”

“Yeah, and we’re working on it. She just gets anxious after being in the Capitol. All the parties and dinners at the Mansion, she puts a lot of pressure on herself. Like I said, we’re working on it.” Tyson explains, “if you have suggestions, I’d love your input.”

“This is insane. You know that right?” Haymitch throws up a hand, “the whole happy family act-”

“It’s not an act, Haymitch. We are happy. We want you to be a part of it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tyson demands. “Y/N is my best friend and we love each other. But you’re the one she wants. I’ve made my peace with it. I just want her to be happy. Whether that is with only you, you and me-”

“What about you?” Haymitch asks, “are you happy?”

Tyson’s face softens, “I am. You know most people are lucky to have one person in their lives, outside of family, who truly loves them. I have two.” Y/N and Perry.

“You have three.” Haymitch corrects him. You’ve got me.

“You’re part of this.” Tyson explains, taking Haymitch by the shoulders. “We wanted you to feel included. You deserve to be a father to those kids, just as much, if not more, than I do. I don’t think it has to be cut and dry, I think we can both…” Tyson breaks off, “there’s this old movie Y/N likes, about a girl who has three dads and they all come to her wedding-”

Haymitch understands the reference. “Mamma Mia?” He scoffs, “that’s the arrangement you’re proposing?”

“If that’s what works for us, I don’t see why not.”

“What about Snow?”

Tyson takes a step closer, “my Ma’s got some friends outside the districts. Plus, I’ve been talking to Plutarch again and he thinks-”

“Plutarch thinks he can save the world, he always has.”

“I don’t want to save the world.” Tyson assures him. “But I do want to save my wife, our kids, our family. If we can help other people in the districts, even better.”

Haymitch sighs, “tell me how.”

“We need a mockingjay.”

[maulsscream]

SURVIVALISM | Chapter 02

(gif by unmaderedemption)

Krennic x f!Senator Chapter 01 - Chapter 02 - ...

2,270 words | G rated | Warning: alcohol use

Summary: Charity Gala season is upon them, and she must show her face if she hopes to correct the trajectory of Cal Hantur. Krennic has other plans, mainly to spoil her evening. He's everywhere, all the time. She doesn't get a chance to breathe without him looming nearby.

A/N: You freaks are gonna LOVE this one! Buckle up. Fashion reference

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! 🫶

This was the third evening in a row where you had to attend multiple parties throughout the same night, and fatigue was catching up to you. If it simply meant showing your face and gracefully sipping your drink while bidding on artifacts, this would have been just fine. But your duties went beyond appearances here and there. You had to mingle with Senators, Governors, and Imperial agents. Most of them were still strangers to you. Their faces blurred together, their names forgotten as quickly as they were spoken. This wasn't helped by the fact that they all seemed to know each other. As if you were interrupting childhood reunions.

To add to your worries, your office had had an increasing number of reports from the security team regarding data breaches. None had been successful so far, but these forceful attacks on your home left you reeling. You felt exposed. You needed to keep the situation under wrap and closely monitored, but this proved challenging from Coruscant. You would have felt much more grounded on Cal Hantur with the people you knew and direct access to everything you needed.

The lack of control chipped away at your sanity.

You refocused your attention on the task at hand; the gala. Your gown trailed behind you as you made your way over to the circular bar in the middle of the room, sleeves billowing at your sides. You had shed your usual protective layer against the cold and were baring more skin than comfortable for the chilled rooms, but no matter. You had to look the picture of composed elegance. Had to. No one should be able to read the simmering panic of your situation. Your anxiety was getting worse every day. If you couldn't get the rebels in check, you'd lose profit and therefore lose your home. Lose your senate position. Lose everything that you'd built, just like your predecessor.

The dress you wore tonight was made of silk, pale hues of green contrasting against blush pink. The neckline dipped in a V shape almost all the way to your navel and the high slit reach up to your mid thigh. The sleeves were sheer, exposing the tanned skin of your arms. You looked soft and distinguished amongst the guests.

Your hand reached out for a tall glass of champagne at the same time as someone else, connecting against the leather of their gloves barely an inch away from target. You chuckled awkwardly as they retracted their hand, turning your head to find Krennic observing you with amusement.

"Ladies first.", he inclined his head towards you.

"Director Krennic, I didn't expect to see you here this evening!", you said warmly, shaking off the reveries of the last quarter hour.

"A pleasant surprise, I hope?"

"Well that all depends on the tone of conversation.", you purred.

This was far from your first drink of the evening and if you had to be honest, it really should have been your last. The drinks helped to settle your nerves and gave you something tangible to hold on to. Even though you'd spent much of your life in the public eye, you still weren't quite sure what to do with your hands in these situations. When you had company with you, you could simply hold onto their arm but you were alone that evening.

Krennic laughed at your remark, a sound that rumbled deliciously in your ear and made you want to get closer. It seemed impossible that he was wearing an even more polished version of his uniform and perhaps it was only the effect of the sash draped across his chest, but he looked especially crisp. Kriff you needed to lay off the champagne, you thought as you took a long sip to busy yourself.

Your companion leaned closer and scanned the room with his eyes before landing back on you. His gaze pinned you to the spot like a tractor beam. No escaping the conversation now.

"Are you here on your own? No Senator Karon at your heel?", his voice was light but his expression betrayed his antipathy for your friend.

"I believe he's abandoned me for better company.", you gestured with your glass towards your friend and his husband engaged in lively conversation further out in the room.

"Ah. It's just as well, I was hoping for a moment alone with you."

There was a tense beat between you while he drank you in. You were keenly aware that the last time you had seen him, you bared significantly less skin. He seemed to have noticed as well, licking his lips and settling into an imperious smile. You could feel your cheeks burning. The two of you were squeezed impossibly close together at the bar by the crowd that was formed around it. It afforded you privacy but gave you the impression of being trapped there with him. You finished your drink too quickly and glanced around. It was immediately replaced by another, and Krennic cheered with you. You should have opted for a more sturdy liquor like he had.

"How may I be of service?", you probed calmly.

"It's what I can do for you that should be of utmost interest, Senator. My friends within the ISB are quite displeased with the situation in the Mid Rim, especially with a certain leisure planet... I was hoping you'd be willing to shed a light on just what's been happening lately. So that I know how best to assist you.", Krennic leered.

He seemed to take pleasure in every word which felt like blades to your heart. Your panic had morphed into annoyance, and in turn, anger. How dare he accost you at events to threaten you? His aim was clearly to rattle your gilded cage but you couldn't put your finger on why. Why were you of such interest to him? Why focus on Cal Hantur like an obsessive leech?

"What's in it for you?", you snapped back through clenched teeth.

"Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

You watched him take a sip of his drink, the superior smile never leaving his lips. Boastful prick. If his position within Military Intelligence hadn't been so prominent, you would have already thrown your drink in his face. The taunting needed to come to an end. This was clearly a business meeting and not a social call for him, so you would muster your forces and play along. You simply could not give him what he wanted. If his desire was for you to be meek and grovel at his feet, he was in for a surprise of his own.

"There's no reason for concern. I have the situation handled."

"But do you, truly?", he wondered aloud.

His eyes squinted at you with amusement. This was quite the show. You felt like a chew toy in the jaws of a tooka. You remained silent as he rested his elbow on the counter and brought his attention elsewhere. Was he really going to faint disinterest now?

"Your little Hedge project. My team has a lot of questions that the reports do not answer. Perhaps a visit to Cal Hantur is overdue... How long has it been since you've been home?"

You let out a sigh and unclenched your jaw. Finally some comfortable territory. From here you could easily stir the conversation into familiar grounds. This was the opening you needed and yet you took his bait. His words had brought your mind away from the danger at hand and back to the pleasant memories of home. Cal Hantur was always going to make you feel soft and relaxed. A precarious feeling when in the presence of Director Krennic.

"Too long, it seems.", you whispered to yourself.

"How serendipitous that our interests should align then.", he rejoiced, clapping his hands as if to celebrate your arrival to the point.

"You could have asked for a tour outright. We welcome Imperial officers to our home every day, one more group makes no difference.", you said dismissively.

You put your glass down on the bar. You'd lost your thirst after this whirlwind exchange. Your wits needed to kept sharp if you hoped to navigate the rest of the evening without making a fool of yourself.

"Where's the fun in that? Isn't it your job to make us feel special?", Krennic gesticulated and pushed away from the bar to stand in front of you.

Your temper reared its ugly head, your vision turned red for a split second. The audacity of this man! And yet you were trapped, unable to put him in his place or else you'd risk too much. Worst of all, he knew it and delighted in taunting you. Your response came out icy-hot, contempt and pride colouring your words.

"My job, Director, is to protect the interests of my people. And their home. I represent more than tourists and oligarchs."

After too many drinks you couldn't help it. At least it was better than slapping him outright in a room full of colleagues and potential allies... or enermies. You were sure the sound would have resonated across the entire hall all the way to the plaza and beyond.

"My apologies. I forget how fastidious you senatorial types are.", he waved his hand in a gesture dismissive of your affront.

"You're more than welcome to take a tour of the room and find yourself easier conversation.", you hissed.

"But not as stimulating.", he crooned as he took your arm and lead you away from the bar.

You stiffened at his side, stumbling around the edge of your gown. Your hand clutched his arm tightly and he tucked you closer. This is what he had wanted. To parade you around the room for everyone to see, like a trophy. Like his newest project. Like he owned you and anything attached to your name. You seethed mutely while taking a slow turn of the hall. You had kept your chin lifted proudly, meeting people's eyes. And there were many. People weren't hiding their curiosity. Let them gossip, you thought. As long as you appeared harmless and in control there was no issue.

You looked up at Krennic. He was making no effort to hide how chuffed he was with himself. The urge to strike him return but this time it was fuelled by how much you hated yourself for finding him attractive. If his personality was less toxic he would have been your type to a tee. Your emotions were swirling in the pit of your stomach.

"Director Krennic?", a young female aid called as she approached you both.

"Yes, darling?", Krennic answered.

"Colonel Yularen needs you."

The affectionate term caused your face to twist with displeasure which you were sure he interpreted as jealousy. You'd never met a more audacious man in your life. Your arm remained wrapped around his as he turned to you, but you were still staring at the aid with a placid smile. You let your fingers sprawl around his bicep. It wasn't a surprise to find lean muscle under the padding of his uniform. You were pleased to see the effect of your gesture on both the Imperial's faces. The aid looked at you with surprise while Krennic raised his eyebrows in interest, and something darker. Better to have him think you'd miss his presence terribly.

"Duty calls."

Krennic detached himself from you and brought your hand to his lips, his blue eyes fixed on your mouth as he kissed your skin. His thumb stroked across your knuckles just once before he let go. You shivered at the ping of electricity that ran down your spine and set your blood alight. You wondered how his lips would feel elsewhere on your body.

So, it seemed two could play this game.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Senator.", Krennic murmured.

You had no time to reply before he strode away with the aid who was already handing him a datapad. Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your gown and set about finding Lenn.

"What did that parasite want?", Lenn grumbled as he saw you approach.

"Nothing, just... A tour of Cal Hantur. I suppose he's in need of a vacation like the rest of us.", you lied smoothly.

Involving Lenn would only drag you deeper into a bureaucratic mess. If Krennic had it out for him then perhaps you could play the part and with time, get the Imperial off your friend's back. And on top of you instead-- you chased the drunken thought away with a snort. It was definitely time to call it a night.

"So you'll let him use you as arm candy for some credits?", Lenn snapped with vitriol.

You let the silence hang between you to give your friend time to hear himself. Clearly the drinks had been flowing for not just yourself. Your expression grew cold, then passive. The mask of calm returning.

"Lenn."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. He just gets under my skin. I don't want to see you in trouble.", he sighed, reaching out to touch your arm.

"I already am.", you smiled at your friend sadly.

"What do you mean?"

Kriff. You caught Krennic's eye over the other Senator's shoulder. His smile widened and he raised his glass at you before taking a long sip. You did the same to steady your nerves.

"Forget I said anything."

"Just... keep a close eye on him."

"As close as can be.", you said with a wink not directed at Lenn but someone else in the crowd. Someone far more useful to you now.

[strunmah-mah]

Action Comics #978

I don't feel like we talk enough about this. So after the Convergence event, there were two Supermen simultaneously, but one didn't know about the other. Then Superman Reborn merged them into one. But to keep Jon's background of growing up isolated from the hero community and whatnot. They just had Superman step back from the public spotlight and operate incognito from Jon's birth until he was 10.

That means for 10 years Superman just vanished from the public. What were the conspiracy theories like, did people think he was dead? I have so many questions about this period of DC history

[brightquang]

According to a waiver of sovereign immunity, which seemed to be mistaken identity between

6  the 3 Claims & Dispute Resolution treaty at Saigon, February 9, 1965, into force  February 9,

7 1965, by 16  UST 140; TIAS 5773; 542 UNTS 173., and a waiver of sovereign immunity,

8 therefore, the Plaintiff would like to point this out. For example, in his case has been carrying

9 out to look like:

10  original jurisdiction over civil actions that "arise under" the Constitution, laws, or treaties

11  4 28 U.S.C. § 1331(a) grants federal district courts original jurisdiction over civil actions

12 "arising under the Constitution, laws, or treaties of the United States". This means that if a

13  case's success depends on the interpretation of a federal law, the federal courts have the power

14 to hear it. This is often referred to as "federal question" jurisdiction.

15Let the Plaintiff show “Article II, Section 2, Clause 2: a waiver of sovereign immunity.

16 Instead, the plaintiff cites this Act by its title citation; however, the Plaintiff has copied

17  the original text, leaving the Court to reevaluate whether the end of the United States

18  treaties was the Paris Peace Accords, and this treaty should be a jurisdictional matter for

19  the Court to decide in his case. So, here is- He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and

20 Consent of the Senate, to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur;

21 and he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint

22 Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the supreme Court, and all other

23 Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein otherwise provided for, and

24 which shall be established by Law: but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of

25 such inferior Officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, or in

26cthe Heads of Departments.

27In the Treaty Clause, the Constitution returns to the realm of foreign affairs and vests the

28 power

TÀI LIỆU MẬT ÁM SÁT KENNEDY HÉ LỘ BÍ ẨN CHẤN ĐỘNG VỀ CHIẾN TRANH VIỆT NAM! VÌ SAO MỨC THUẾ 46% TRUMP ÁP VÀO LÀ CƠ HỘI ĐỂ VIỆT NAM ‘THOÁT TRUNG’? Dear Sir, Before I would like to send my proposal for re-scheduling or hearing for my initial case management conference to the Court because the last few days, I have called and asked for the Clerk of Court Mask B. Busby, so he said that the Management Conference was “no longer.” Therefore, I have not slept and eaten any delicious foods because my case does not go anywhere. As you know, the court had scheduled February 26, 2025, at 3:00Pm when I sent a letter to confirm the day and time, let me get there on time. However, that day didn’t have to take place. Second, I would like to propose a re-schedule or request the hearing day, because United States Magistrate Judges Alex G. Tse and Joseph C. Spero together made sure for my case, and they spoke. Case No: 24-cv-01328-AGT Order Further Extending time for Plaintiff to File an Amended Complaint Re: DKt. No.10- the Court previously screened Plaintiff’s complaint and extended the time for him to file an amended pleading to September 6, 2024. DKts 7 & 9. Plaintiff now requests the deadline be extended to September 10, 2024, based in part on computer problems. DKt.10. The Court hereby extends the deadline for Plaintiff to file his amended complaint to September 16, 2024.It Is So Ordered. Dated: September 3, 2024. By Alex G. Tse United States Magistrate Judge, So, I have been amended to do those things-and therefore, the Court has sent the deadline to me. Let me sign on it, which is why on February 26, 2024, which didn’t take place at the management conference. Therefore, I would like to send to you when I would need you to give me the best advice. By the way, after my amended file was done, you sent the copied documents to me, but then received a check payment of $405.00 which the Court didn’t send a receipt to me to let me record in documents. Please give me a few words from you. In this case, what can I do for my case when the Court has canceled the initial case Management Conference on February 26, 2025? Please give your advice. Respectfully Yours, Bright Quang  

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y��all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just�� let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[klemen-tine]

No Prince Charming

(Batfam x Mom!Reader)

Anonymous asked:

Hello, I really like your work.

I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.

Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.

Sorry if it's too much.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.

It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed. 

Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders. 

A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office. 

“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’ 

Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one. 

But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences. 

“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her. 

As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him. 

Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.  

Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too.  Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact. 

Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look. 

She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is. 

“I’m sorry Richard.” 

“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up. 

In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on. 

Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother. 

“Bruce please.” 

“I am busy.” 

“I know but Bruce, this is my–” 

“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends. 

When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.” 

Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own. 

She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne. 

“Honey, are you happy?” 

“Of course Mama.” 

“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.” 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3. 

She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign. 

For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door. 

The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion. 

“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.” 

“Is that so?” 

“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne. 

“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.” 

“And the kids?” 

“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her. 

It's good to see some of that coming back. 

Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?” 

“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull. 

When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him. 

“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.” 

“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him. 

Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in. 

“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.” 

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood. 

He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid. 

Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her. 

He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around. 

Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too. 

“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.” 

Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place. 

Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone. 

He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”

“Holy shit.” 

“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together. 

Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes. 

“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes. 

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room. 

Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.” 

Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings. 

Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans. 

Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight. 

“Fucking hell.” 

++++

Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool. 

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.

Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign. 

It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids. 

“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other. 

 “Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?” 

“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something. 

“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t. 

He knows this. She knows this. 

And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others. 

It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine. 

He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.

“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears. 

“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine. 

Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool. 

“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle. 

“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen. 

Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second. 

A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.’ They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof. 

So, of course they have had sex. 

Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex. 

Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon. 

Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it. 

It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return. 

Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human. 

Batman was never Prince Charming.

_________________________________________________________

Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.

@problematicreblogger

@kurai-hono-blog

@rosecentury

[honey-pages]

On Your Knees - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After confessing his attraction to you, Viktor invites you to visit him in his room.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. Blow job.

You had been seeing Viktor now for a week or so, after he expressed his feelings in an unexpected confession. You had been working as his assistant previously and he detailed that he could not, in good conscience, act on his urges when he was in a position of power - as much as you would have wanted him to. Therefore, after your job role changed and you became more independent in your duties, Viktor was back in your line of vision.

It was a well-kept secret that you both were so suited to each other. The other assistants and staff at the lab had their suspicions of your intimacy, but Viktor, noticing the subtle glances, had clarified.

“No, no. Miss (Y/N) is my assistant. I would not take advantage, no matter how charming I may find her.”

You were surprised at his openness. The conversation had gotten back to you through a friend and what could have been understood as a gentle complimentary joke, to you, meant the world. When you finally built up the courage to ask Viktor privately about this, he confirmed. Yes, he had meant it. Although he had also mentioned that a public announcement was not really the way he had intended on doing it.

You had been close since and were still in your early stages of the budding relationship. You decided it was probably time to pay him a visit. He had invited you to his room at around dinnertime. But dinnertime is an ambiguous concept for Viktor as he eats when he can fit it in, and so knowing what time to arrive was a risky decision.

You made a guess that around now was the right time and so you set out for his room. It was oddly quiet around and the walk between your rooms was not too far, you only passed a few people and no one you were well acquainted with. You approached his door after a long corridor. He had told you previously when he had invited you over to just walk straight in and not bother knocking, but that felt a little strange not knowing if he was expecting you or not. Nervousness made its appearance, and you paced slightly while considering your options. There must be a reason that he would encourage you not to knock. This was Viktor. There was probably some unknown secret project that was sound sensitive or something along those lines. You decided to walk in without knocking.

Viktor's door opened silently into a hallway which, in turn, opens into his living and workspace. His work desk is in his living room you remembered, although the light suggests that he is currently on his sofa. You put down your bag and kick off your shoes – its polite practice. You quietly turn the corner to face his living room, hoping to not disturb him by chance he was sleeping or working. In front of you, central to the sofa, Viktor sat with his hand around his cock.

His head was fallen back against the backrest of the chair and his eyes were closed. His mouth hung open, his face jerking around with the furious motion of his arm. He was panting, lost in the pleasure he was giving to himself. You had not seen him like this before. Sure, you had shared a kiss or so and light touching, but to see him so primal and vulnerable, so explicit. Standing and watching as he pleasured himself ignited some deep lust you had not yet unleashed for him, something strong and needy and -seeing him like this? - desperate.

His raw moans seemed to bring out vague words, peppered with the sound his hand made when reaching the bottom of his shaft. A repeated light slapping sound.

“Oh, fuck- “He choked out, softly to himself, as though he was struggling for breath. “(Y/N) …”

You freeze up a little bit at your mention. It suddenly made the situation so real, so red, so lustful.

“Yes?” You reply hushed, in fear of startling him, marvelling at him as though he was some mysterious undisturbed presence.

He jolted in his seat a little at your reply.

“How long have you been watching?” He managed, his grip loosened and slowed, now taking twice as long from tip to base, but not ceasing. A blush swept his face.

His hair fell around his face as he raised his head forwards, fixing his eyes on you the second they opened. He held you there in intense intimacy. You had no idea what to reply. You did not want to give the impression you had stood there fixated for too uncomfortably long. But how long had you been stood there? You had no idea. You were lost in this train of thinking when the thought of him reemerged.

“I um- Just a minute I think?” Was all you could string together; you were flustered seeing him like this.

“Come here” He purred, patting his knee with his free hand.

You approached him carefully, stomach in knots.

“Please, Miss (Y/N), on your knees”.

You lower yourself before him, settling yourself between his thighs on your knees.

“I really did mean it when I said I found you charming.”

He smiles warmly, his hand still slowly stroking himself. His gaze is intense, focused and fixed. He looks into your eyes, maybe watching the reflection of the light in them that made them glint, or maybe watching the outline of his cock in their reflection. It was unbreakable. The bond between you was powerful, inevitable even.

“Now please, (Y/N), open your mouth for me.”

You moved your face forward, level with him. His intense focus eased to a warmer output of eager want, his eyebrows hiking up at their insides, his face ready to melt itself into the open-mouthed submission he was offering you. You cast him a smile in return, a guarantee that you will satisfy. Your mouth salivated, and you hold him gently in one hand, lowering your mouth to run your hot tongue from the base of him to the top.

He shudders instantly, gripping the base of the sofa more firmly with his legs to steady himself, his head falling back once more, breaking the eye contact. His hand is propped lightly against his thigh, and at this sensation he tenses and flexes his fingers. Trailing your way up and down him, you flick your tongue over the tip, before engulfing him into the heat of your wet mouth. At this, his eyes open, and he stares breathlessly at the ceiling. Both of his hands come to meet at the back of your head and fix themselves into your hair, holding firmly but gently.

“Oh, fuck.” He mutters out a few unintelligible words before he settles on some that are understandable, “Your mouth- you’re…please, slow down.”

His grip in your hair holds tighter as his hips begin to jerk themselves upwards, betraying his composure. His eyes flash down to ensure he’s not choking you in doing so, he knows his size is more than adequate.

“Do you mind if I?” He asks, beginning to slowly take control of your head, moving it at his will to use your mouth as he wishes.

“No, you don’t mind, do you? You look too content in the knowledge that you’ve almost tipped me over the edge already Miss (Y/N).” A small grin seeps into his smile, dirty and knowing.

You work hard on matching the rhythm he is setting you with the pace of your tongue. You wrap it around him and swirl it in time with his upward thrusts, pushing and pulling him further into your mouth, to fill and force his way into the barrier of your throat. Your spit is beginning to drip at the corners of your mouth, down your chin, and he notices, wiping it away with his fingers.

“So very beautiful. I have always thought so, but now its undoubtable. You are going to swallow all of me, aren’t you?”

You nod in satisfaction; you can’t wait to see him undone. At your consent, he speeds up once more, becoming more frantic and fast without sacrificing his gentle hold. His whimpers turn into moans and expletives and his throat is purring. You feel him get harder and stiffer under your hands and tongue as he comes to his end.

“I’m going to- “He pants, “Its- “

You push him deeper than before, holding him there as you feel his cock spasm, pulsating as it thrusts forward, filling you fully.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N)- “

You swallow him. He wheezes as he catches his breath back, red faced and sweating, he sits still for a moment. After resting for a few moments, stroking your hair with his hand, he pulls you up onto the sofa next to him. He draws you close, wrapping his arms around you and bringing your head to his bare chest.

“I got quite carried away there.” He manages, hands finding their way to your shoulders, moving to tilt up your chin to face him. “I didn’t go too fast, did I?”

You smile and shake your head as a reply, seeing him fully relaxed and finished has left him dishevelled and hot and his warmth is meting into yours as you lay on him.

“I think it’s time I return the favour.”

[daisydrabbles]

Maybe it's the Moonlight

- Theo Nott x Female Reader

Pairing: Tutor!Theo Nott x Good girl!female reader

ⓘ When I write within an academic setting it’s a university au and therefore all characters are over 18!

Warnings: slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, corruption, praise, mild degradation, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex (there’s literally nobody around but still it’s a public place)

Summary: Theo has been assigned to tutor you in astronomy, but his methods are a little… unorthodox (they involve fucking)

Word count: 3.1k

‘I didn’t take you for the type to sneak out past curfew, doll.’

You looked up from your seat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower to see your devastatingly handsome tutor staring down at you.

As one of the brightest in your year, it was incredibly frustrating to you that you were almost failing astronomy. What was even more frustrating was that Theodore Nott, the infamous man-whore who’d probably never stepped foot in the library (for reasons other than making out behind the bookshelves), was top of the class.

When you requested additional help, you expected to be partnered with someone like Hermione Granger - someone as studious and academically motivated as you. Yet here you were, meeting with one of the most attractive yet most troublesome boys in school.

You two were the definition of an oxymoron: you; good, innocent and studious, juxtaposed with him; bad, corrupt and carefree.

‘I’m normally not,’ you said defensively, ‘but I really need to pass this class.’

‘And you want my help.’ he smugly added as he sat down next to you.

Immediately, you felt some weird tension between the two of you. Why did he look so happy to be here? And why was he wearing such a predatory smile on his face?

Maybe it’s the moonlight you told yourself, as you made a mental note to reschedule your next session for a more civilised location, despite the fact that this one was undeniably practical - what better time and place to study the stars?

You cleared your throat and flicked through the pages of your textbook, feeling rather shy, and desperate to get this study session over with as soon as possible. ‘So, what first?’

Theo tutted and plucked the dusty old book from your hands, before he carelessly chucked it over his shoulder. ‘What’s first is I wanna hear you say it: Theo I need your help.’

‘Hey I needed tha- what?’

He was already having fun with your new dynamic. Whilst you were disappointed with your assigned tutor, he was pleased. In astronomy, the only class you shared, he would watch you intently - in a way not dissimilar to how lions stalk their prey. You were too perfect… he thought often of inviting you over and corrupting you; fucking you senseless and leaving enough marks on your body to prove it. However he knew you would never agree to hang out with him outside in a social setting - his academic arrangement was a perfect way to get you alone.

‘You heard me, miss high-and-mighty, I want you to say the words.’

‘Why?’ you crossed your arms in protest. You didn’t want to admit to needing anyone, especially not Theo Nott.

‘Cos you think you’re better than me,’ he said simply, ‘yet here you are about to fail astronomy, expecting me to help you pass it. You almost sound entitled really, maybe I should just go-‘

‘Fine.’ you cut him off, which only made him grin and look at you expectantly. ‘Theo I… I need your help.’

‘Good girl.’ his grin widened hearing you say those words, whilst simultaneously your eyes widened hearing his response. What did he just call you?

‘Why did you want me to say it so badly?’

He shrugs. ‘What man doesn’t want a pretty girl to say she needs him?’

Cheeky bastard. Nevertheless, you felt your cheeks heat up against your will. He thought you were pretty. Not that that should’ve meant anything, coming from someone like Theo Nott. He was notorious for being a womanizer. A playboy. A man-whore. You so badly wished his reused words had no effect on you, but they did. Looking down at your lap you prayed that your flush wasn’t noticeable in the darkness, for you were almost embarrassed at how he could fluster you with so few words.

It was very noticeable.

At least, it was for Theo, who had been seeking such a reaction and had therefore picked up on it immediately. He wasn’t entirely sure if you even wanted to study at all when you suggested meeting in the Astronomy Tower, with it being a primarily regarded by students as a hookup spot. It surprised him that you actually brought textbooks and came with the intention of learning.

He had other ideas.

He was sick of girls throwing themselves at him, this time he wanted a challenge - but he didn’t just didn’t want any challenge, he wanted you.

He wanted to shut your smart little mouth up with his own; he wanted the satisfaction of taking someone so smart and fucking them dumb. The dirty-minded boy found it cute that you’d so innocently suggested the meeting in the middle of the night - that the impure thoughts he was thinking hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Clearly you hadn’t considered your choice of clothing either. He didn’t miss the way the wind was causing your little pleated skirt to fly up, nor the way your tight blouse clung to your curves and accentuated all the right places. Places he’d love to touch; to kiss.

Alas, he would have to settle for letting his mind wander for now. As badly as he wanted to fuck you, he did also commit to helping you. His hands would have to wander later. Wander up to your perky tits, down to your sensitive cunt…

‘Anyway,’ he shook his head to rid himself of his horny thoughts, ‘is there an area of study you’re particularly struggling with?’

‘Star charts.’ you admitted, your shoulders slumping.

Theo looked as though he was trying his hardest not to laugh at you. ‘Star charts?’

‘You’re supposed to help me, not mock me.’ you deadpanned.

‘I’m sorry,’ he chuckled, ‘I just find it amusing that someone as intelligent as you can’t read a fucking star chart.’

‘I can read a star chart just fine. I just can’t…’

‘Use it to navigate the sky?’ he offered.

‘Exactly!’

Unable to help himself, he dropped his voice to a low and seductive tone and leaned into your ear. ‘Well I’d be more than happy to make you see stars.’

Theo’s hot breath on the side of your neck combined with his dominant tone caused a gush of wetness between your legs. Discreetly, you squeezed your thighs together, silently willing yourself to break free from whatever trance he’d put you under.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Theo, who was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm.

‘I- if you don’t wanna help me that’s okay but I think maybe I should-‘

‘Believe it or not,’ he cut you off, his tone surprisingly gentle, ‘I’m actually trying to help you.’

A puzzled look appeared on your face. ‘You threw my textbook away when I tried to open it.’

‘Well, let’s not live in the past.’ he waved off your statement, holding out his hand for you to take. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘With what?’ you eyed him skeptically.

‘Jesus are you always this tense? It’s a yes or no question, doll.’

After a moments hesitation, you answered; ‘Yes… yes,I trust you.’ and took his hand.

That was all the confirmation he needed to yank you onto his lap, causing you to let out a little gasp. Sitting on Theo Nott’s lap was not how you envisioned spending your study session, but you were hardly complaining. The faint aroma of cigarettes and the sound of his racing heart should be distressing - a sign of danger, even - but you felt oddly calm. Your back was towards him so you were both facing the night sky as he asked, ‘Can you point out Andromeda for me?’

The feel of his hardening bulge underneath your ass had momentarily stunned you, and you stuttered trying to answer his question.

‘Just relax…’ his fingers caressed your exposed thighs comfortingly, slowly working their way upwards, meeting the hem of your mini skirt.

‘What are- shouldn’t we study first?’ You grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers going any higher.

When you said first, implying that you would be interested in having sex with him later, he felt his cock twitch. Finally, you were granting the opportunity for him to make you his. Luckily for the both of you, Theo was great at multitasking.

‘Tut tut, do you want to get better at astronomy or not?’

Well yes, but you couldn’t see how him touching you was going to help with that. ‘I-‘ you were cut off by your own whimper as you felt Theo’s fingers graze over your clit through your underwear.

‘Then let’s try again. Where’s Andromeda?’

At first, his fingers lightly circling your clit were too much of a distraction. It was obvious he had experience, because he knew exactly how hard to press to satisfy you but still keep you coherent. After a moment of getting used to the sensation, your brain was clear enough to answer his question so, using your finger, you traced the outline of the constellation in the sky.

‘That was correct, clever girl.’

‘Wait, really?’ you bounced up and down in excitement, making the boy underneath you groan at the feeling of you pressing on his hard cock. ‘How did you teach me to do that without teaching me anything?’

‘Your problem is you think too much. I thought if I helped you… relax, you’d be able to focus on astronomy a little better. Clearly, I was correct.’ Theo moved his hand inside your underwear and slipped a finger inside your wet hole. ‘Well done.’

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of his long finger deep inside your tight cunt, stroking your inner walls. As determined as you were to not be another one of his silly hookups, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny the pleasure he was giving you.

‘Fuck, doll, who knew a good girl like you would be this wet for someone like me.’

Theo’s finger teased you for the next twenty minutes as he asked you various Astronomy-related questions, which you answered correctly. He was right, you were clearly thinking too hard at something so simple, and his fingers pleasuring you rid you of all the unnecessary thoughts, allowing you to focus solely on the stars. Every now and then, Theo would increase the pressure on your clit or thrust his finger deeper, just to see you cut yourself off mid-sentence with a moan or a whimper induced by his touch.

‘Theo…’ you whined after answering a dozen questions about constellations, looking up at him. You were asking for something, but you weren’t quite sure what. Just something more.

He pushed a second finger inside you, curling them upwards into you slowly as his palm pressed against your clit. Watching you writhe on top of him and hearing you moan made his dick throb in his trousers, as he internally tried to decide between bringing you to your climax on his fingers first or just freeing his cock and fucking you raw right away.

‘Yeah, amore? You like being finger-fucked out in the open?’ he whispered, even though there was no chance of you being seen or heard by anyone at this time. His words went straight to your core and his previously slow pace started to quicken as he felt you clench around his digits. ‘Fuck- yes right there.’ you cried, feeling his long fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

Not long after, he retracted his fingers, smearing your wetness on your clit teasingly before removing his hand from your underwear altogether. The new, empty feeling made you whimper.

‘Why’d you stop?’ you pouted breathlessly whilst you turned around in his lap, now straddling him.

Locking his eyes on yours, he brought the two fingers that were previously buried inside you to his lips and licked off all your juices. ‘So sweet.’ he muttered to himself, probably not intending for you to hear. ‘Because,’ he said louder, ‘I want to make you cum on my cock, if you’ll let me.’

Your eyes flick down to his now rock-hard erection, still trapped inside his trousers. ‘Yes, please…’

‘Atta girl… but first, let’s get these clothes out the way, shall we?’

You nodded frantically, tugging at the hem of his t shirt as he unbuttoned your blouse to reveal your tits sitting perfectly in a lacy white bra. ‘These are fucking gorgeous.’ he palmed them before reaching round to unclip your bra. ‘I can’t want to watch them bounce as I fuck you.’

He pulled away briefly to discard his own shirt before flipping you both over. How he revelled in the sight of you underneath him, all exposed and desperate. Theo knew that you weren’t like him; you weren’t the type to sleep around. He was honoured to be making you feel this good, and he wanted to make sure you had as much fun as he knew he would have.

After pulling off his trousers he guided your hand to his bulge, making you feel him through his boxers. ‘Can you feel how hard I am for you, amore? How desperate my cock is to sink itself into your pretty little cunt?’

He leaned down to give you a passionate kiss, his thumb finding its way to your clit. Your fingers found his waistband and tugged on it, indicating that you wanted him to discard them. He obliged.

Pulling away from the kiss, your jaw dropped as you saw his erection finally spring free, hitting his stomach. It was bigger than you could’ve imagined, and you suddenly found yourself conscious of how large he was in comparison to you.

‘Theo that is not gonna fit inside of me.’

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ he yanked your skirt and your underwear down with one harsh tug, leaving you entirely on display for him. With one movement of his hips the tip of his cock found your dripping wet entrance, and he pushed it in it in ever so slightly. The stretch makes you moan; his cock was way thicker than his fingers. ‘See that, doll, your warm little cunt is practically pulling me in. I told you I know what’s best for you.’

Tugging at his brown curls at the back of his neck, you hum in agreement. ‘Please… I need you.’

‘I didn’t even have to ask you to say it that time.’ he grinned before he bottomed out inside of you making you cry out. A bulge was visible in your stomach where is cock was deep inside you, still whilst you adjusted to his size. ‘You okay, pretty girl?’ All you could do was nod, not trusting your mouth to form coherent words with the boy who was meant to tutor you buried to the hilt in your dripping wet cunt. ‘Words, please.’ he commanded as he grabbed your jaw to bring your face closer to his.

‘Yes I’m- I’m more than okay just please…’

‘Please what?’

‘Please fuck me.’ you said in a small voice, surprised at yourself for saying it outright. At your request he started to move, making you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sensation.

‘Don’t hold back, amore. Your sounds are as cute as your face, I wanna hear them all.’

And with that he began to pound in and out of you, immediately picking up a harsh pace. His large hands pinned your wrists on either side of your head so you could make no attempt to cover your flushed face or muffle your breathy moans. He was no hypocrite either, groaning into your ear letting you hear just how much he was enjoying fucking you raw.

It was even more erotic than he’d imagined. He’d managed to turn a tutoring session with the schools resident good girl and turn it into a scene straight out of a porno. The sight of your tits bouncing as your tight, warm cunt took his thick cock was one he wanted engrained in his memory. Fuck, if you weren’t on a hard wooden floor he’d be tossing your little body around in all sorts of positions. And god, how he wanted to taste you; to suck on your sensitive little clit and lick up your sweet juices. The opportunity hadn’t arose in this particular occasion, but it only motivated him to get you in bed again.

‘You feel fucking incredible.’ he groaned, earning only a whimper in response. ‘Bet you couldn’t answer any astronomy questions now, hm?’

You shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut as he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. ‘N-no, I-‘ his pace didn’t falter as you felt yourself clenching around him, orgasm building up - if anything, it quickened.

‘Cos I’ve fucked you senseless, haven’t I?’ Although you could hear him, you couldn’t respond. His voice was muffled and your vision was clouded, your pleasure was so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight. ‘You like going dumb on my dick?’

Theo could tell you were close, so he brought a thumb to your clit, adding pressure in circular motions. That’s all it took for your orgasm to come crashing over you. ‘Theo, I’m-‘

‘Do it. Let go. Cum for me.’

And you do. Just as he promised, you swore you saw stars whilst he fucked you through your high and chased his own. He didn’t slow down to accommodate your now increased sensitivity - his need almost became primal as his thrusts got sloppier the closer he got. ‘Gonna fill you up with my cum, doll. Real deep.’ he grunted in your ear, feeling his own orgasm building. The pressure from your tight cunt felt like heaven to him, but mostly it was the way you were looking at him that pushed him over the edge, like he’d just taken you places you didn’t know you could go.

You both moaned as you felt his hot cum spill into you, marking you as his. And you were his, now. He’d ruined you for anybody else; he’d moulded you to fit him perfectly.

After pulling out, he laid down on his side next to you, tracing mindless circles around your navel.

‘That,’ you inhaled shakily, ‘was amazing. Are you okay?’

His eyes, which had previously been fixed on the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole, snapped up to you. By the looks of it, people don’t normally ask him that after sex, and you immediately felt as though you’d said something wrong. That was, until you felt his hand cup your cheek. ‘Careful, doll, you’re really making me want to keep you.’

‘What?’ you roll onto your side to face him.

‘Nothing.’ he sighed in content. ‘I’m great, are you okay?’

‘Amazing. Same time next week?’ you attempted to joke.

‘Same time tomorrow.’

[moonlit-tulip]

It's often noted, in discussions of the Death Note anime, that it's much weaker than the manga in its rendition of post-timeskip events partly for pacing reasons: the pre-timeskip parts of the anime adapt ~6.5 manga-volumes in 25 episodes, while the post-timeskip parts adapt ~5.5 in 12 episodes, so a lot more important detail-work is lost and the whole thing ends up feeling kind of perfunctory.

Much less often noted as far as I've seen, but nonetheless also true, is that the Death Note anime removes some important characterization-nuance from Light, starting right near the beginning, whose presence elevates the manga to be substantially better than the anime even before the time-skip.

In particular: the Death Note manga is, at its core, a tragedy in classic "character who has everything falls into ruin due to a fatal personal flaw" style. Light is a brilliant student who, in the future ahead of him, has the potential to do practically whatever he wants. He's driven to ruin by the fatal flaw of unwillingness to admit, either to others or to himself, when he's made a mistake. This flaw is an essential piece of his characterization, in the manga. And the anime pretty much entirely skips over it.

As portrayed in the manga, Light's decision to become Kira—which ultimately leads to his downfall—is made in the following way. First, he finds the Death Note, and is led by morbid curiosity to write a name in it, killing someone. Then, still not really believing it, he kills a second person too. At which point it hits him that he's killed two people. And at that point, after a viscerally-horrified breakdown about what he's done, the inability to admit mistakes kicks in, and he proceeds to rewrite his own value-system such that it yields the result that killing those people was actually okay, and in fact morally good. Because the alternative would be for him to acknowledge himself as having made a terrible mistake, and that, more than anything else, is something he's unwilling to do if he can see any other option at all. And then, having convinced himself that those two murders were good, he proceeds to reason that, if they were good, then doing more like them is good; and thus he becomes Kira, leading eventually, far down the line, to his ruin. The anime, by contrast, substantially deemphasizes this flaw of his, portraying him as much more calmly put-together through that series of events and thus making him come across as having been tempted in becoming-Kira-ward directions all along.

Similarly, in the anime, when Light leaks a bunch of information to L about his identity by using non-public information acquired via police channels, he declares that actually this was deliberate as a means of baiting L out so he can kill him, and the anime presents this declaration pretty uncritically. The manga, by contrast, presents it as an extension of that same character-flaw: Light is unwilling to admit to having actually just straightforwardly messed up, and therefore makes up a new plan to view himself to have been following-all-along, thus leading him to take more risks in his game against L going forward and thus, once again, helping him along the path to ruin.

Et cetera.

Compared with the manga, then, the anime's version of Light's characterization ends up less interesting. And, moreover, it introduces a plot hole, when the Yotsuba arc comes around! It makes it much less clear why an amnesiac Light would be so straightforwardly aligned against Kira. In the manga, this is pretty clear: a Light who never killed anyone wouldn't have rewritten his values to consider killing people to be good, and therefore would look at Kira as straightforwardly evil. And, in fact, his amnesiac self has trouble taking the possibility of his having been Kira previously, even as the evidence starts building up, because becoming Kira would be a mistake according to his value-system of the moment, and this leaves him having a very hard time contemplating the possibility of its having in fact happened! Whereas the anime, by deemphasizing Light's big flaw, makes his amnesiac-self's differences from the way he is for most of the story up to that point come across as much more out-of-nowhere, much less narratively well-founded.

So, overall, the people who talk about the Death Note manga as superior to the anime specifically post-timeskip strike me as somewhat understating things. The manga is superior to the anime pre-timeskip, too, via that extra layer of characterization and a resulting improvement both in character-interestingness and in plot-coherence. And thus I consider the manga to be very much the definitive version of Death Note from start to finish, despite the anime's relatively-higher popularity.

[sageshouldknowbetter]

It’s tempting to think that innies are just the outies at their core, right? That they’re what you get when you take a person and peel away all their past trauma until you get to their very soul. The true essence. The self free from expectations. “The you you are.”

But we have to remember: innies can’t be the “true” outies without the environmental influence to “mess them up,” because the severed floor is NOT a non-environment. This world that the innies are born into forms their every character trait and idiosyncrasy that isn’t already BURIED in the outie’s subconscious. So though it’s fun (and not completely wrong!) to say innies are outies without the baggage… they aren’t the outies in their “purest forms” either.

Take Mark, for example. On the surface, the Mark S we see at the beginning of season one is a hard-working, kind, and seemingly content yes-man. Mark Scout, meanwhile, is a depressed and sarcastic alcoholic who gets drunk at night and sobs in his car the next morning.

The apparent difference between them? Mark Scout remembers his wife dying in a car crash and Mark S… doesn’t. Therefore, Mark S must be basically like Mark Scout was before Gemma died. … Right???

Not exactly. Because Mark S still has a past. A short one, sure, and closed-off too — but still a past, and it highly affects his personality today.

It’s heavily implied that he didn’t start off as the corporate tool we see in early episodes. In fact, based on his account of threatening to kill Petey and extensive references to past torture (“bad soap,” “Milchick can’t always be nice like that,” and “It’s easier for you both if he knows which end to start from”), he could’ve been almost as rebellious as Helly. The difference is that where Mark Scout remembers being formed by a drunk father, screeching tires, and policemen at the door, Mark S remembers days on end in the Break Room, saying he was a blight on humanity until he believed it was true.

That’s a decent portion of why he comes across as a “sweet” yet timid bootlicker! Because he is built on trauma! Just new trauma! Different trauma! Trauma he remembers, but Mark Scout doesn’t! (His outie’s past still impacts his character, sure, but it’s not at the forefront of his mind the way his conscious memories are.) The fact that his bad experiences are novel, weird, and surface-level innocuous don’t make them any less potent or formative to the kind of person he is now.

In the same way, I don’t think it’s exactly right to call Helly “what Helena would’ve been like if she was free from Lumon and the pressure of being an Eagan.”

Yeah — in some ways, it’s true. Helly doesn’t have to worry about public opinion, the weight of her name, or what her father thinks. She can have friends and a surrogate dad and, well, baby goats. But the difference between Helly and Helena is more than just one remembering her Eagan upbringing and the other not. The severed floor is in NO way some controlled, pressure-free, unable-to-change-its-inhabitants environment.

Helly remembers cutting her arm in a smashed-open window under red glow, apologizing in the Break Room over a thousand times, and learning just how much she isn’t considered a person. But she also remembers three other people being her only allies, friends (and lover), and entire world — literally. Less than ten people, and always under horrific circumstances, are the only people she ever sees. This kind of life could NOT happen to anyone on the outside, including Helena — even if she wasn’t born an Eagan.

So what would Helena be like if she wasn’t an Eagan? The truth is… we don’t know. But the question isn’t what she would be like. It’s if, stripped of her heritage, it would even still be her in the first place.

Your brain is split in half. Is that still you? You are awakened, memories gone, born again into a whole different kind of world, and grow to fill it like water in cupped hands. Is it still you now? Are you the same “you” you were ten years ago? Ten months ago? This morning? Who ARE you? And what IS “you,” anyway?

That’s what Severance wants us to ponder. And whatever the relationship between innies and outies is (the same person, completely different people, Cain and Abel, you in another lifetime) (can you even call that “you”?), one thing’s for certain: innies aren’t just outies with the bad stuff wiped off. If anything, that’s what Lumon would like them to think.

[freak-accident419]

knockin' on heaven's door

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Summary: The day after an intense, drunken argument with each other, you decided to cool down with Rhett by the lake to talk things out the proper way. As you both dwell on the time you first met, you finally confront the unspoken thing between you two. (Rhett Abbott x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/n, no pronouns for reader, no specific genitals mentioned for reader, penetration, oral (reader receiving), reader is implied to be a musician, sex by the lake pretty much, so public sex?, friends to lovers, your dogs are little shits (some silliness)

A/n: if you’re new to this account, hello! I strive to write gender-neutral reader fanfics to encourage the use of gender neutral language, usage, and pronouns in xReader fics! Inclusivity is important, especially in the year 2025 <3 having said that, I would love to use my platform to show it is possible to write in fics where gender does not play any (significant) role. Happy reading <33 reblogs and likes are much appreciated :)

Taglist: @pearlstiare @gryffindorquid-ditchcap-blog

-

A heavy sigh left your lips as you shut your eyes softly, the gentle wind blowing towards your skin and the nearby trees. You felt grounded through your slow breaths, sitting above a cloth blanket that separated yourself from the muck surface. You've never felt such tranquility and peace in a long time.

Instantly, however, you were brought back to the earth, feeling an object fall lightly onto your knee. In your cross-legged position, your eyes shot open, finding that the object was a stick that your dog had dropped to continue his exhilarating game of fetch. Huffing, you grabbed the slender trunk and threw it in the water to entertain him, watching him sprint towards it after.

Last night was exhausting. It shouldn't have even happened, but it just did.

You got into a stupid argument with your close friend, Rhett. You knew him for several years, as he was one of the first people you met when you moved to Amelia County, and yet you still couldn't get used to his daunting idiocy. He was even more stupid when drunk, which he had been the previous evening. The verbal fight ended bitterly, as you gave up on explaining yourself, feeling burnt out.

You felt like you needed a break from everything, which impelled you to find solace in nature. You could tell that Rhett needed it too. Therefore, you casually proposed this idea, also prompted to bring your dog, Leo, and Rhett's dog, Stu. Those two mutts somehow got along with each other more than you and him would.

The sky was slowly transforming into a muddy blue as you two had only just arrived at the lake by dusk. Moments passed by then, but the two of you barely spoke to each other since you first got here; just silently setting up the blanket and beers, engaging with the dogs, and lighting cigarettes.

He still sat beside you, though. He wasn't angry with you, but neither were you angry with him.

After taking a mellow drag of his cigarette, Rhett extinguished the silence with his western twang. "I'm sorry," he mutters, exhaling the misty smoke.

Your ears perk up at the sound of his apology, turning your head to look at him. His eyes never looked at yours yet, as they remained onto the glassy lake.

Stubbornly, you asked, "for what?"

Rhett shook his head. "You know what."

He finally turned his head to face you, his soft, dark eyes looking into yours. "I was being a drunk asshole last night," he elaborated shamefully. "I shouldn't've snapped at you like that. It was unnecessary."

You couldn't muster up the courage to prolong the eye contact with him, looking down as you knew you were guilty too.

"Well, I just made things worse," you sigh, throwing the stick again once Leo fetched it. "I knew it would've upset you, but I kept rambling on anyway."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place," he reasons, rubbing his forehead.

"Okay, but you were drunk, so I only elevated things by arguing back instead of being mature."

Rhett suddenly scoffs with a grin of levity. "Well, would you look at that?” He comments instantly, “We seem to be arguin' with each other once again.” You two looked at each other for a split second before chuckling it off, smiling at the issue rather than scowling.

His dog, Stu, moved to lay down beside you on the blanket. Your palm met his smooth, fluffy coat, petting him idly.

"To be honest," you huff under your breath, "I totally forgot what we were arguing about last night."

Rhett snickers, amused by your confession. "At least I have an excuse for not remembering. Weren't you sober?"

Your shoulders shrugged as you let out a faint snicker. "Well, that’s just how forgettable that stupid argument was."

You both felt a weight being lifted off of your shoulders once you talked it out, releasing the tension between you two. After all, you've always had a friendship built on mutual understandings, which was one of the things that made you work well together.

For the next few minutes, you two were just sitting with each other quietly, hearing the hushed chirps of the crickets and the two dogs now roughhousing close by the lakefront. It was a comfortable silence nonetheless, as you found Rhett's sole presence soothing.

"Do you, uh," he began roughly, nodding towards you as he fidgeted with his fingers, "do you remember how we first met?"

You chuckled breathily, shaking your head. "How could I ever forget?"

He grins at your response. "You were just... playing your guitar at The Handsome Gambler like always..." Rhett described the moment as if it happened just yesterday. When you first moved here, a full-time job just wasn't enough for you to thrive on, and so you entered the gig economy, playing live music at the local bar.

"Then this asshole," he continues with an eager smirk, "he, uh... You were playing... what was it...?"

You remembered that night like the back of your hand. "Knockin' On Heaven's Door,” you two ended up saying at the same time with a shared smile.

"Right," he says pleasantly. "Well, this asshole, he begins to just... heckle you, you know? For what—‘butchering’ a Bob Dylan song with your version? Anyways, I just... I couldn't just sit there and watch you get criticized by this dickwad, so I..." He playfully gestured a punch in the air.

"Hey, you beat him up hard," you laugh, remembering the scene quite fondly. "I was scared he wasn't going to be able to get up!"

"He deserved it," Rhett sneers pridefully. "But I was drunk too, so that probably… y’know, made me more aggressive… Hm, and then what? You bring me ice for my knuckles and thank me for it?"

"Yeah," you nod, confirming what happened right after the fight. You smiled to yourself as you thought about the memory, until a curious consideration came across your mind. "Hey, I always wondered... You barely knew me at the time. Yet you defended me like that. And you didn't come out of that fight unharmed either—you knew you were going to get bruised too. So... why did you do it?"

Rhett was slightly taken aback, not expecting that question, nor prepared with an answer. He took off his cowboy hat thoughtfully, setting it aside on the ground as he ran his hand through his tamed hair. "I dunno. I just... I've been around that bar several times. Saw you play the moment you first arrived, and then every other night since then. I always enjoyed your performances. Kinda felt protective when that son of a bitch started talking shit. Plus, I really liked your take on the song. It felt… original. Sounded nice. You know, I’ve always loved your playing before you stopped with the gigs.”

“Really?” You smiled wistfully, appreciating his attentiveness for you. "Well, I'm still forever grateful for what you did. And I mean, I was still going to play regardless of that guy, but... it meant a lot to me at that time."

You both looked at each other warmly. If you had to be honest with yourself, you would admit that your friendship with Rhett wasn't as simple or typical like others. There was this underlying feeling of admiration and affection that fell towards a more intimate tone rather than friendly. Of course, you two were close friends before anything, but you couldn't deny the romantic tension between you two.

As stated before, your friendship was built through mutual understandings. There was no doubt that you two knew your feelings might've been reciprocated.

You had been through a lot together. After meeting him many years back in that bar, you were still very close to him now. You were always there for him, from his failed bull rides to the recent disappearance of his sister-in-law, and he was there for you at your lowest moments, be it your financial struggles or awful past.

"You, um... You mean a lot to me," you mutter hesitantly, adding on to your previous statement. You looked up into his irises, which seemed to resemble a hauntingly beautiful cyclone, convinced you were drowning in them due to apparent breathlessness.

Frankly, the two of you were sick of this unspoken thing between one another. You knew there was something there, something more, but none of you had the guts to do anything about it. Right now, however, it finally felt right to just try.

Rhett's breath shivered as his eyes bored into yours, feeling his heart swell at your words. Hesitantly, his hand went up to cup the side of your face, feeling your soft cheek in his palm. Naturally, you leaned into his touch, blinking slowly as your breathing matched his.

And suddenly, you felt his lips meet yours, pressing a soft, gentle kiss against them, instantly feeling a blissful sense of euphoria throughout your body. All those years of tension and close calls, and you finally had him.

It was a brief kiss as you two looked at each other coyly, unable to stop grinning like the idiots you were.

Eagerly, your hands cupped his face as you kiss him again, feeling his hands grab your waist as it became more ardent than before. The kiss itself wasn’t at a fast pace, yet deeper compared to your first. His lips moved with yours fervently, fingers slipping under your shirt to feel your stomach and waist. His touch explored your ribs and your chest, fingernails lightly dragging over the skin so ticklishly. It was a new sensation, feeling the hands that belonged to Rhett’s touch you like this, feel your body like this.

Rhett became rougher, slipping his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss. His hand under your shirt moved to your back, his palm cupping your spine as he rubbed your skin. Then, he moved his fingers to the hem of your shirt, eager to undress you. After lifting it over your head and throwing it off somewhere, he laid you down on the blanket, attaching his lips to your neck. You laughed delightfully at the action, indulging in the fact that you would finally have him like this, knowing that he adored you the same way you adored him.

He pulled away briefly, sitting up to remove his shirt, then laid back down on top of you, kissing you once more. His gentle palms continued to explore your warm skin, trailing from your stomach, to your chest, then back down to your waist. He worshipped your bare torso in awe, taking advantage of the privilege of seeing you shirtless like this. Your body was addicting and he was desperate to keep feeling you against him.

“I’ve waited,” he muttered huskily in between slow kisses, “so damn... long for this.”

With his face back in your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin, he fumbled with your belt. His skilled fingers worked to unbuckle it as he kissed you, unzipping your pants after and dragging them down. Once the article of clothing came off, his lips dragged down your sternum to your lower stomach, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. He glances at you for a second with arousal and appeal before hooking his thumbs under the elastic, slowly dragging the cloth down your legs.

You felt the cold air hit your exposed warmth as the thin fabric made its way from your knees to your ankles, until Rhett finally slid it off your feet. He moved his head between your legs, hands resting on your hips. He began to nip at your thighs sensually, switching between your two legs as he would inch his way up your inner thighs. You shivered lightly at the feeling, his eyes gazing intensely into yours before his mouth began to work on you.

You gasped and flinched at the feeling of his tongue against your core, letting out a quiet moan as your eyelids grew heavy. His hands gripped your hips more firmly, pinning them to the ground after your legs merely trembled at the sensation. He slowly yet passionately licked at your most sensitive parts, prolonging the eye contact as he tasted your flesh.

Your fingers find his hair, tugging it lightly in pleasure as he continued with his movements, closing his lips around you. More whimpers left your mouth, feeling confident you were going to reach your orgasm through this. That was until he pulled away with a smirk, you whining at the loss of his touch as he quickly got out of his jeans. Throwing it to the side, he slipped his boxers off, letting his length spring free.

Seeing him naked above you stirred a new, indescribable feeling of arousal in yourself. Watching the man you’ve adored for years prep your body for him to take.

“You ready?” He mumbles, looking down at you for your confirmation.

You nodded, heart racing. “Yeah.”

Rhett’s hands propped himself up against the blanket, hovering above you to see your face. As his cock slowly pushed through your entrance, his lips parted slightly, opening his mouth in awe of the feeling. The further he moved into you, he had stretched your inner walls until his hips met yours. The two of you let out a satisfied moan once he was fully sheathed inside of you, your tightness bringing him immense pleasure.

Rhett couldn’t believe he was taking you right now. He’s wanted you for so long, and now, you were finally his.

With a short peck against your lips, Rhett began to thrust in and out at a steady pace. He didn’t want to go too fast so soon, as he was just indulging in the feeling of your body around him. Just knowing it was you he was making love with had spurred him on. He’s never felt so good before.

“Fuck!” You cry out once he decided to increase his pace. With each thrust, his cock caressed your fleshy insides, him letting out low grunts with every movement. His gentle, warm hands moved down your sides until they reached your thighs. Firmly gripping onto the flesh, he wrapped your legs around his waist to fuck you in a much closer position.

Soon, the sounds of him ramming into your body echoed louder throughout the quiet lake as the lewd, wet noise of skin slapping against skin filled your ears. You whined softly at the gratifying feeling of him pounding into you like this.

Your hands moved to cup his face, trying to kiss his lips as much as you could while he thrusted his hips. The moment became more intimate as you poured your deep affection for him into the kiss, only for it to not last as long, due to your persistent moaning.

“Oh, Rhett… Mmm…” you whimper, closing your legs tighter around him to push him in deeper. One of his hands left your thigh to reach for your palm, interlocking his fingers with yours next to your head. Rhett groaned as his eyes briefly closed shut, his pace getting quicker, motivated by the beautiful sounds escaping your lips.

“God, you feel too good,” he mumbles hotly, continuing to penetrate you as he reached down to nibble your neck. Rhett's moans were loud and feverish, nearly drooling in his mouth from the pleasant feeling of your body.

However, the blissful moment was ruined when you hear your dog barking in your ear.

”Fuck,” you huff, frustrated by the interruption while Rhett felt prompted to continue his motions, regardless of the circumstance, “go away, Leo.”

Your dog whined at you, continuing to yelp, in which Rhett couldn’t help but laugh, his thrusts faltering. “Leo, git!” You pant, trying to push his scrunched face away with your hand.

Rhett’s movements inside you came to a subtle halt as he chuckled softly at the circumstance. “He wants you to throw it,” he snickers.

You turned your head to see a new stick that your border collie brought you. “Yeah, I know,” you sigh, grabbing the stick as you looked at Rhett’s grin, unamused. Finally, you threw it far, adjacent to the other dog by the lake, hoping the two would go back to being occupied with each other.

“Damnit, that is such a mood killer,” you scoff, looking back at the snarky cowboy above you.

“Yeah, we probably should’ve done this back at your place,” he says with a teasing smirk.

“Well, you’re the one who decided to do this here,” you retort.

���And we’re only here because you brought us here,” he raises an eyebrow, chuckling.

He had a point. “Oh, shut up.”

After an affectionate giggle, Rhett’s lips kisses yours again slowly, in a rhythm that no song could ever surpass. He angled his head to kiss you deeply, gradually beginning to thrust into you again with his hardened length. You moaned, feeling his cock rubbing your flesh once again, moving in and out. For now, his movements had been slow, focusing on the pleasure his body brought you.

Rhett’s hands left your fingers and thigh, hooking his arms under yours to grip the back of your shoulders. This allowed him to thrust faster, his hips finally rolling rapidly into yours. “Oh, fuck!” You whine at the powerful new pace. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

Rhett moaned with you shamelessly, mouth gaping in pleasured wonder. “You’re so damn beautiful, you’ve always been so fucking beautiful,” he rambled under his breath, kissing your lips sloppily, “cum with me, sweetheart, come on.”

Before a coherent word could leave your mouth, a loud, long moan escaped your throat once you came intensely. As your walls clenched amorously around his girth, Rhett spilled his warm, white semen inside of you, groaning as he kept himself in that deep position.

You both panted heavily, catching your breaths as Rhett collapsed on top of you, his sweaty, bare chest pressed against yours. A lazy grin appeared on his face, peppering light kisses on your neck.

You didn’t want him to pull out yet, but you knew he had to, whining softly at the loss of his warmth once he did. His dark, gentle eyes were fixed on yours as they had the entire night, cupping your face for another doting kiss.

Rhett’s lips pressed against yours passionately, tasting you once again with both affection and lust. After the short gesture, the two of you lay there, comfortably naked by the lake, as it might as well have been the Garden of Eden. You looked at each other tenderly, as there wasn’t enough words to describe your affections towards one another.

Your head rested on Rhett’s heaving chest, idly tracing his tattoo with your fingertips. You knew you would eventually have to get dressed and get back home, but you gave rein in the pleasure of this particular moment.

It simply felt like heaven.

[romanticrivalries]

WHAT ARE THEY? SINCARAZ LORE (WITH RECEIPTS)

The RG final brought in an influx of new fans. Because of my SINCARAZ x called you again edit, I received a lot of inquiries about what happened between them. Since their relationship is complicated—("he means a lot to me" / "we’re good friends" / "aren’t close friends" / they wake up in the morning and think about each other)—and goes ↗️↘️↗️↘️↗️ every other month (Hot N Cold by Katy Perry is quite befitting), I thought I should make this.

Before we join hands and plunge into the rabbit hole, I need to establish how downbad Carlos was (is?) for Jannik. 

His entire face lit up at the mere mention of Jannik:

Exhibit B. I swear, if Carlos had a tail it would start wagging aggressively at the sight of Jannik.

Carlos looking back at Jannik after they parted ways.

He looks back at Jannik a lot. Exhibit B. Exhibit C.

Tbh, his smile during Jannik’s speech in the Rome ‘25 ceremony is incriminating enough:

(Smiling so aggressively his gums are showing… Someone call an ambulance, we’ve got a man down bad.)

Now that that has been established, let’s move on. Buckle up, it’s a long ride.

They first met as teenagers (Carlos was 15, Jannik - 17) in 2019 at the JC Ferrero Challenger Open, held at the academy of Carlos’ coach, Juan Carlos Ferrero. Carlos won. Jannik is the one who approached Carlos first because he wanted to get to know him. 

“I saw the draw coming out and I said, ‘Oh, Carlos Alcaraz, I have no idea who he is!’” said the Italian. “I saw the age and I said, ‘Wow, he’s playing a challenger, it’s amazing.’ And then straight away I was impressed. “After the match, we went to the same locker room … and I was like, ‘When did you start to play tennis?’ And then we started to talk a little bit, because I wanted to get to know him because he was just an amazing talent already back in the day.”

Their first ATP match up was in 2021 at the Rolex Paris Masters. Despite losing, Jannik was the one to say to Carlos at the net: “I hope we play some more.”

And the rest is history: Carlos imprinted on Jannik and has been down bad ever since. Therefore, it can be concluded that Jannik fell first but Carlos fell harder.

Prior to 2024, Jannik and Carlos were quite consistent about referring to each other as good friends.

CARLOS (2022): “[...] and of course, we are great friends outside the court. [...] I talked to him out of the court, by phone, I mean we laughed a lot**, he’s a nice person [...]”

They went jet skiing together after their Umag final, 2022. 

JANNIK (Rolex Shanghai Masters 2023): [...] “We have a very good relationship off the court and I feel like we are good friends, but still, you know, on court there is, uh, this nervous, you know, inside you feel a little bit nervous [...]”

During December of 2023, Jannik and Carlos trained together at the Juan Carlos Ferrero Tennis Academy as preseason preparation. Same place where they met for the first time, btw. A ceremony took place where it was unveiled that the main court would be named after Carlos. Jannik recorded the entire thing on his phone, a video that he never shared on social media.

Many people say their relationship is one-sided, that Jannik doesn’t reciprocate, but this moment alone speaks volumes of how much he cares. Other people were capturing the event, so he didn’t need to, but he still chose to, just for himself and Carlos. It wasn’t something meant to be shared with the public. Not only that, he didn’t just take a quick snap, he recorded the entire thing. It’s characteristic of his introverted, private nature to show he cares in subtle ways like this that aren’t always visible/obvious to the public eye.

Jannik talked about it a little bit over here after the interviewer teases him for taking photos like a fan: “For me, it’s special, they grew up together [...]”

The unshared video should also serve as a reminder that there are likely many other private friendly moments shared between them that we as outsiders will never be privy to, so we shouldn’t base assumptions on the nature of their relationship from what’s said/not said on their social media.

CARLOS' UNWAVERING FAITH IN JANNIK

Carlos believed in Jannik’s potential before most people did. In 2023, he remained steadfast in his claim that Jannik is his biggest rival when people were expecting him to name Djokovic. The media kept trying to coax the Alcaraz vs. Djokovic narrative out of Carlos but he would not budge.

Note: Jannik didn’t have his meteoric breakthrough until 2024 (he was showing signs of it by the end of 2023). Before 2024, Jannik had no Grand Slams and only 1 Masters 1000 title (Canada). In comparison, by that point, Carlos had 2 Grand Slams and 4 Master 1000s. He became the youngest World Number One in ATP rankings history in 2022.

I: The rankings say it’s Novak and Carlos, Carlos and Novak, do you consider him to be your biggest rival at the moment? CARLOS, ROME ‘23: “[...] Probably, Jannik right now is my biggest opponent. We had really great matches, but at the same time really, really tough ones. [...]”

CARLOS, Post-Wimbledon, ‘23: "Having someone there, with whom you fight, with whom you have that battle, that beautiful rivalry, is important to maintain motivation for so long. Right now, I think I have it and I’m not afraid to say it: for me, it’s Sinner at the moment. That beautiful rivalry that we have, those big games that we have played, on big stages. As the years go by there will be better ones and we will fight for the big titles.”

Even Jannik didn't consider himself to be Carlos' biggest rival.

JANNIK, SHANGHAI '23: "But in the other way, I feel like that he [Carlos] has achieved many things more than I did at the moment, and me, personally, I think, at the moment, the biggest rivalry he has is Novak because of certain circumstances of points and World Number One and Grandslams throughout the last two years [...]"

I’ve observed Jannik avoids getting ahead of himself and making presumptions about the future— I’m not sure whether it’s because of superstition, his realistic perspective about the rapidly-changing brutal nature of tennis as a competitive sport or something else —which is why he doesn’t entertain talks about the future of their rivalry as easily as Carlos does.

At the time, this raised a lot of eyebrows, but Carlos predicted Jannik would become World Number One in 2024, which Jannik did. The reason behind the skepticism was that in 2023 the World Number One title had gone back-and-forth between Djokovic and Carlos until Djokovic emerged on top as the Year-end World Number One. Djokovic won all the slams apart from Wimbledon, which was won by Carlos. So, people were expecting a similar pattern in 2024.

LANGUAGE(S) THEY COMMUNICATE IN:

In 2022, Carlos said they both communicate in Spanish. On the other hand, Jannik said he speaks in Italian while Carlos speaks in Spanish.

CARLOS: [...] We speak Spanish. I don’t know how to speak Italian. At the moment, we speak Spanish. (Source) Interviewer: “His [Jannik’s] Spanish is good?” CARLOS: “Yeah, he’s good. He has to improve, but his Spanish is good.”

JANNIK: “Sometimes we talk in the locker room. He speaks in Spanish and I speak in Italian, so we talk kind of mixed. But I think we understand us very well. Off court we are friends, we are good friends. I mean, also now after his match and my match, we saw each other in the ice bath. I think we are in a good relationship which hopefully can live for many years because this is the most important.” (Source)

(A/N: Fast forward to the trophy ceremony in Rome 2025, where Carlos told Jannik to speak in Italian because he understands, while Carlos gave his speech to Jannik in English because Jannik’s Spanish isn’t that good [?])

BOTH ARE ALIKE OFF-COURT:

Because of their contrasting personalities, I’ve seen people make assumptions that they don’t mesh well off-court or wonder whether they have anything in common to talk about outside of tennis, but they’re actually quite similar off the court and get along well. In particular, they both place a lot of value on honesty, integrity, and being good people. They both keep close to their small circles. 

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2024: “Two young, great kids, not just on the court but off the court as well. Their friendship is real. They both respect each other and like each other and you’ll see that on the court tomorrow regardless of who wins [...]”

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2024: “I think Carlos is very similar to Jannik in both the way they play with the excitement level they bring to the game, and their personalities and their likability. Both guys are incredibly alike off the court. They both like each other.”

JANNIK: "It's easy for Carlos and me to get along. We are quite similar off the court. When we play, however, we are a bit different, but that's normal, it's our nature. Off court, I listen to him, I get the feeling he likes to be surrounded by the people closest to him, as I am. Carlos pushes me to be a better player."

JANNIK, SHANGHAI 2024: “[...] For me it’s nice that we’re rivals on the court and friends off the court [...] Off the court, we are quite similar, because we surround ourselves with our close ones, we like to stay with the team, um, you know there are many, many things, similar things I feel like [...]”

Alcaraz said of Sinner: “I always say you have to be a good person first and athletics comes after that. Jannik thinks the same thing.”

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2025: “Now Carlos and Jannik aren’t going out to dinner together either, but they are mates. They’re in the locker room, they’re talking. I’m part of some of their conversations. I won’t repeat what they are because most of it focuses around what 23-year-olds and 21-year-olds talk about, but they have fun, and they enjoy each other’s company.”

They’re both big football fans.

So you won’t be dropping Carlitos a text if Italy beats Spain in their group-stage match? [JANNIK] No, I will never do that… [Pauses to laugh and grins]... Maybe!

ON-AND-OFF DIVORCE ERA A.K.A We’re so back / It’s so over / We’re so fucking back / it’s joeover

They forgot to sit down and define the relationship, so were on completely different pages for a good part of 2024.

Things were looking good in Indian Wells.

They were high-fiving and chatting each other up in the tunnel before their match, Carlos waited for Jannik so they could leave the court together when the match was delayed because of rain, giggling together as they left the court (bonus: carlos patting Jannik’s b—), sat together in the locker room and talked about life, also laughed about:

CARLOS, INDIAN WELLS 24: “Well, we were laughing about it with Jannik when it [match] suspended, because I had bees, had the rain.”

Things changed around Miami.

While Carlos was waxing poetic about their futures:

“Hopefully Jannik and I both have a long and beautiful future ahead of us.” (N: Oddly romantic thing to say: sounds like Carlos wants to spend the rest of their lives together.) CARLOS, MIAMI 2024

Also, Carlos saying more downbad and incriminating things like: “He means a lot to me.” (INDIAN WELLS ‘24) 

For the first time, in Miami 2024, Jannik defines their relationship as not that close as previously painted:

“[...] We have a lot of respect for each other and, obviously, off the court we don't speak that much because he has his own things and I have my things."

Some of the reactions from this reddit thread are worth a read, lol.

(Skipping a major arc: Roland Garros '24)

Things started looking good again months later during Beijing. Chatting in the gym (part 1, part 2). Carlos was looking to give Zendaya a run for her money the way he was laughing in part 1. I would say Jannik isn’t that funny, but too many people close to him have said otherwise, so maybe he is indeed just that funny.

Just look at them during the trophy ceremony. 

“I respect you a lot as a player but even more as a person” was very much needed after all the noise that had reemerged with the WADA appeal.

Jannik and Carlos greet each other’s teams.

They shared a flight together after their final:

Carlos’ interview about it. Jannik’s interview about it (his little giggle when asked about the photo was so cute).

During Shanghai, someone pulled Uno reverse, because now Jannik was talking about how they’re friends off court but Carlos was like we’re not that close.

CARLOS, SHANGHAI ‘24: "We don't talk too much when we are around. Obviously, we have a really good relationship off the court as well. I think we both respect each other a lot, as a player, as a person, but once we are on tour traveling, you know, during tournaments when we are on-site, we are with our team, on our own, so we don't speak too much. When we can, we talk a little bit besides tennis about life a little bit, but not too much. It means, we have a good relationship, but we are not close friends, you know, but I think the respect that we have, you know, put [us] in a position that we have a really good relationship."

For renowned downbad Carlos to say this, the people were certainly shocked. He managed to fight off the allegations until he lost the war by cheesin’ so hard just because Jannik grouped him as a legend during the trophy ceremony in Shanghai (the final was between Jannik and Djokovic but Carlos was there to watch).

Just look at him:

Their exhibition final, SIX KINGS SLAM ‘24 was a gift that kept on giving:

Silly confusion because the announcer got their walkout order wrong, Jannik removed confetti from Carlos’ hair, Jannik—I wake up in the morning thinking about Carlos—Sinner, Carlos refused to let go of Jannik, bench talks etc.

I: So, did you just tell us that everyday you wake up you think about him [Carlos]?

(The interviewer decided to choose violence and not let that insane statement from Jannik go by unnoticed by everyone in that stadium)

JANNIK: [Flustered pause] “Well, no, I mean… [Jannik laughs in panic while Carlos looks utterly delighted] It would be strange, no?”

(The interviewer had to intercede and save him.)

I: “In practice terms."

(Love how the interviewer said this in such a pointed way, like gay boy your mind went there by itself, I was talking about practice)

I: "He’s your biggest rival, isn’t he, over the next few years. Do you still get on as friends?”

JANNIK: “I mean, we understand each other very well. We travel a lot. We are, I would say good friends [turns to check with Carlos, who nods], you know. Not obviously the best out of the best, but y‘know, we also like to share every time when we go on the court. We try to enjoy [...]”

Carlos decided to send signals to Jannik during his press conference that he wants to be friends:

“[...] We don’t spend too much time together off the court, but I would love to.”

He WOULD LOVE TO. Jannik did that blazing signal manage to transmit through your thick curls?

I really liked this comment on their relationship:

It explains everything pretty well.

It's hard to be friends with the person who is responsible for chipping away your soul and body in a grueling battle that lasts for hours, who rips your heart into pieces by squashing your dreams and taking the one thing you wanted the most (when it was nearly within reach).

Poor Jannik has cried enough times because of Carlos 😭

“Tears of happiness? I haven’t had them yet. [I cried] after [losing to] Carlos in the US Open, also a bit at Roland Garros,” Jannik adds. “There are always moments when you feel emotions you don’t want in the locker room or sometimes when you’re in transportation or even in the hotel room alone. It means you care about the sport. It means you want to reach this level." (Source / 2024)

I liked this analysis on them.

FOR JUST CO-WORKERS, THEY’RE TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT EACH OTHER:

They both wake up in the morning and think about each other.

Carlos [about Jannik during Roland Garros ‘24]: "...to wake up in the morning and want to improve my game to try to beat him..." [Source]

Jannik [about Carlos on two different occasions]: "...he pushes me to do better. I wake up in the morning trying to understand what I can do better trying to beat him next time, which is something nice for me as a player." [Source]

Jannik: "...we try to push ourselves to the limits, you know, I wake up in the morning trying to understand the ways how to beat him and you know this kind of rivalries and this kind of players they push us always to our 100% limit..." [Source]

CARLOS, SHANGHAI ‘23: “[...] Against him, as I said, it’s different.”

JANNIK, SHANGHAI ‘24: “[...] It’s like fire and ice, a bit [...]”

Interviewer: “Carlos was in here, and he said it really hurts to lose against you. Especially against you. Do you love to win, especially against him?” JANNIK: “[...] Obviously, both of us, we hate losing, especially against each other.”

CARLOS, INDIAN WELLS ‘24: “I mean, I hear some declarations from Tommy Paul that was funny for me, that he's [Jannik’s] absolutely naked right now. He’s playing naked, so [...]” (Source) / “I hear some words from Tommy Paul that he’s [Jannik’s] playing absolutely naked, so he’s right [...]” (Source)

Guess he liked the thought of Jannik playing absolutely naked so much that he had to mention it more than once. Alright.

CARLOS, ROLAND GARROS ‘24: “That’s when I thought, ‘Jannik, if you really want to beat me, you’re gonna have to take me out on a stretcher.’”

“Everything he does, he does it perfectly.”

CARLOS, ROME ‘25: “[...] Honestly, I’m going to say I need him in the tour [...]” / “I’m not going to get tired of saying, y’know, how amazing a person, athlete you are.”

JANNIK, ROLAND GARROS ‘25: “He’s [Carlos’] a player with charisma, with that aura. The moment he steps on court, you can feel his presence.”

CARLOS, ROME ‘25: I'm more focused when I'm playing against him, or I feel a little bit different when I'm going to face him than other players. He has that aura. When you're seeing him on the other side of the net, it's different.”

Where’s that twitter post that went along the lines of: aura is basically you calling another man attractive

CARLOS, ROLAND GARROS ‘25: “[...] It’s a privilege to share the court with you, in every tournament, making history with you.” 

Not to be cheesy and quote Red, White & Royal Blue, but: “History, huh?”

We've only scratched the surface here (their divorce 2.0 still remains unearthed), but this post has gotten too long, so I'm going to end it here. Hopefully, this proves useful to someone.

[yasministration]

Hiiiii! The first thing I wanted to say was that I LOVE your writing, it’s SO GOOD. I was wondering if you could write like a friends to lovers about Sirius where like they won’t admit their feeling for each other and then it ends with like LOWKEY rly dirty smut. Idk if that’s too much to ask but I would really love it!

Productivity boost - Sirius Black

thank you so much lovely, i hope you enjoy this! cw: SMUT, exhibitionism, semi-public sex? no protection wc: 2.6k+

A thoughtful hum. A subtle lick of your lips. A hand brushing your hair out of your face. Sirius swallowed up all of your movements like a hungry predator, and he rushed to offer you the hair tie around his wrist. At the realisation of what Sirius had offered you, you laughed joyously, deeply thanking him as you took it from his hands. Tying your hair back loosely, you felt your cheeks heat up, a smile on your face that you weakly tried hiding with a hand over your mouth. Sneaking a glance back at the boy, you found him still looking your way. You both averted your gazes away from each other at the same time, humiliated by the prospect of being caught.

From across the table, Remus and Lily shot each other an exasperated look, and when James joined the four of you, they sent him the same one. Immediately, the boy knew what was happening, dropping his bag down and rolling his eyes before slumping down on the floor with the rest of you, working on the low table in front of the fireplace. It had been weeks of you and Sirius exchanging flirtatious glances and teasing conversations, touchiness between you increasing as you commonly shared hugs, sneaky hands lingering on waists. Because you were the only two of the friend group taking potions as a NEWT, it meant you had six hours of fooling around together in lessons a week, and therefore, you’d become considerably closer.

Sirius placed a hand on the small of your back, leaning close to you to peak at your answers over your shoulder. His hot breath on your neck had you glancing his way, otherwise accustomed to his gentle touch in your skin. “Anything I can help you with Mr. Black?” You teased, looking at him over your shoulder. He leaned his chin on your shoulder, scanning through your homework. “Yeah,” he mumbled “Have you done question 6? The use of the stewed mandrake in the oculus potion?” You gasped Sirius’s name out, attracting the attention of the three students facing you. “We have to complete 50 questions for tomorrow and you’re only at question 6? Might as well choose to do the essay instead.” Sirius made a grumbled sound of annoyance, mumbling about ‘boring essays’, but he straightened his back, watching as you flicked through endless pages of your assignment until you found the right page. You handed it to him, explaining your writing process, and Sirius smiled, watching intently as you spoke.

Neither you, Lily, Remus nor James missed the way Sirius’s eyes dipped down to focus on your lips, but you didn’t acknowledge it, instead smiling softly at him as you finished your explanation. You brought your hand to Sirius’s flimsy assignment paper, tapping your finger on it, instantly grabbing Sirius’s attention as you said “Now eyes on here, Black.” Sirius groaned, letting himself fall against your side, his eyes trained on your face. You chuckled, ignoring Sirius’s pleading look, instead continuing to answer the questions due tomorrow. “Sweetheart, Slughorn’s going to give you a detention if you don’t finish this.” “S’fine.” You turned to face Sirius, pushing yourself up into a standing position and offering him both your hands. “How about we go on a walk? Get a short break and come back? Boost our productivity?” Sirius happily took your hands, barely putting his weight on you as he slid his legs under him, pushing himself onto his feet and giving you false belief that you helped him up. Sirius only let go of one of your hands, the other one intertwining with your fingers as he led you away from the study table.

You furrowed your eyebrows as Sirius led you further down the common room. You pointed in the direction of the common room’s exit, mumbling a small “But-“, but Sirius ignored you, pulling you up a a set of stairs that led to the boys dormitories. “I hope they just fuck and get it over with.” Remus grumbled, earning himself a slap on the back from James, who barked out a loud laugh, watching you both disappear behind the curve of the stairs.

“Sirius!” You gasped when the boy tugged you into the room, locking the door behind you and climbing over his bed to finally reach the balcony attached to his dorm. Throwing yourself onto the bed, you followed Sirius with your gaze, watching as his soft hair was pushed away from his face with the wind’s soft ripples. Suddenly, he turned his attention to you, pupils dilating at the sight if you draped over his sheets, your skirt dangerously high up, exposing your thighs. “Come out here!” Sirius called out, nodding his head in his direction, watching as you kicked your flats off, leaving you in white socks. You shook your head with a giggle, your laughs increasing when Sirius ran towards you, hands finding home in the dips of your waist, tickling you softly. “No!” You screeched with a smile, and Sirius’s tickles immediately subsided, instead gripping both your hands to try and pull you off the mattress. You tugged him in your direction, still giggling, and Sirius let you pull him onto his own bed, a wide smile on his face.

“Come on, I want to show you something.” He whispered, beginning to get up again. You followed him, arms snaking around his waist from the back, peeking around his torso to look at the view from the balcony. Sirius raised one of his arms, wrapping it around your shoulders as you released your hold on him, now standing by his side. “Look at the view.” He mumbled, and you smiled, your stare fixed onto him, his sharp jawline and soft hair. “Mhm, I am.” You replied, making Sirius turn his head towards you. He smiled teasingly, “You are, huh?” You hummed in agreement, biting your bottom lip and turning away from him.

Sirius’s free hand travelled to your hip, trying to turn you to face him. “Come on, look at me.” Obediently, you returned your gaze towards him, cocking your head to the side. The arm wrapped around your shoulder moved so Sirius’s hand could cup your face, one thumb softly caressing your skin. “I think you’re a thousand times more beautiful than this view could ever be.” “Oh Sirius.” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up as you dug your face in his chest. Sirius’s fingers were quick to pull your face out of hiding, a handsome smile gracing his features. Silently, you both stared at each other until finally, Sirius began leaning his face closer to yours.

Quickly, you pressed yourself onto your tip toes, immediately connecting your lips to his. Both your arms were instantly thrown over the tall boy’s shoulders, one of his hands cupping your cheek whilst the other wrapped tightly around your waist, dangerously low on your back. Sirius’s tongue pushed into your mouth, causing a low whimper to escape your lips, which he instantly swallowed up. He desperately licked into your mouth and you sighed into the kiss, tongue battling against his for dominance. Sirius pulled away from the kiss, grinning when you tried reconnecting your lips. Instead, he held you back, only leaning down to press his lips against yours in two short, chaste kisses. You pouted, a pleading look in your eyes telling Sirius you wanted more. Sirius held your chin between his thumb and index, pulling your lips apart before he finally kissed you again in an open mouthed kiss, easily gliding his tongue against yours.

You moaned into the kiss, pulling away sharply to drag Sirius back into the dorm, and push him onto his bed. He climbed up the mattress, and you quickly climbed over him, knees on either side of his thighs. Your chest brushed against Sirius’s as you leaned over him, desperately deepening the kiss, which you finally took control of. Sirius tightly gripped your hips, pushing them down onto his lap, where you ground yourself deliciously against his pelvis, feeling the ridge of his cock through his trousers. A moan ripped out of Sirius’s chest, his mouth opening in a breathless gasp. Your kisses trailed towards Sirius’s jaw and neck, biting on his skin before licking over the area, soothing the burn. He groaned, bucking his hips up into you, and you paused your kisses, sitting up on the boy’s lap to attempt to unbutton his shirt.

Sirius chuckled at your miserable attempt, pushing himself onto his elbows to watch you clumsily pull the buttons out of their little sockets, revealing inches of Sirius’s chest at a time, until finally, the entire shirt was unbuttoned. You wet your lips, gaping at his lean torso in admiration, and Sirius shuffled on the bed to toss the shirt on the floor. Your hands travelled down Sirius’s chest and down his abdomen, finally landing at the top of his trousers. Sirius clasped his hand over yours, chuckling quietly. “Calm down sweetheart.” And with a powerful buck of his hips and turn of his body, Sirius had rolled you over on the bed, trapping you underneath him.

You squealed, gripping Sirius’s biceps, and he immediately mimicked your previous movements, exposing your chest to him. Sirius groaned, lowering his face so he could press kisses all over your chest, focusing on your breasts. You sighed in satisfaction, tangling a hand in his hair as he left kisses on your skin. Sirius traced the edge of your bra with one finger before pulling the cup down to expose your tit. You gasped, watching as Sirius fluttered kisses around your nipple, waiting for it to harden before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard. You jolted upwards, gasping in shock, and Sirius grinned, letting go of your sensitive nub before he continued his exploration downwards.

Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers in the fabric of your panties underneath your skirt, tugging it down in one swoop. Sirius crawled back on the bed, laying down on his stomach and hooking his arms around your thighs. “Sirius, you don’t-“ “Shhh!” Sirius interrupted, closing his eyes as he pressed kisses down your slit before licking up your cunt, causing your eyes to shoot wide open. Sirius brought one of his hands up to part your lips, fingers searching for your clit. Sirius grinned when he found the sensitive sub, putting pressure on it and watching how you squirmed.

Sirius dipped his head down, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard. You moaned loudly, digging your head into the mattress behind you, fingers lacing in Sirius’s hair and tugging. Sirius used the same fingers to tease your entrance, dipping the tips of his fingers into your hole. “Sirius,” You gasped, looking out to the side, where the balcony door was proudly open. “Sirius, the balcony is open!” You cried, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, and Sirius detached from your pussy with a loud ‘pop’.

“Oh, you into that?” “What?” But it was too late to change Sirius’s mind: he was already pulling you off his bed. You stood on shaky feet, letting Sirius drag you outside onto the balcony. You rushed to button your shirt up again, making yourself somewhat decent as Sirius pushed you against the railing.

“Sirius?” You asked breathlessly, listening closely to the zipping of Sirius’s trousers. “If this is what you’re into, I don’t mind.” He teased jokingly, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. “Someone could see us.” You whispered, glancing at him over your shoulder. A serious look overtook the boy’s face and he asked “Does that bother you? We can go inside.” But with an eager shake of your head, a smile was easily breaking out onto his face again.

Sirius cursed behind you, guiding his cock underneath your skirt to hide himself from the world. At the same time, he drove his cock between your folds, dipping his tip into your entrance. You tightly gripped the railing to steady yourself, bracing for the impact of Sirius’s cock impaling through your folds. When it finally came, your whole body jolted forward at the force of his thrust, your moan so loud you barely heard Sirius’s groan, his fingers digging into your hips so hard it would definitely leave marks. Sirius cursed from behind you, internally saying a short prayer that he wouldn’t cum before you - that would leave a bad impression. Sirius’s hips began rocking slowly into you, as if apologising for the brutal first thrust he had given you, massaging your gummy walls. You unwillingly clenched around Sirius’s cock, shutting your eyes tightly to will yourself not to lose control over your moans. Oh, you wished Sirius would be nice on you. And he was, just not in the sense you were talking about.

Sirius’s pace quickly increased, his hips colliding into yours, balls making a sharp slapping sound against your ass. You whined loudly, biting your lip to suppress your sounds, but Sirius quickly held your face in one of his hands, turning you slightly to look at him, and he muttered in between harsh breaths “Let me hear you darling.” You gave him a pleading look, desperate not to get caught by anyone. Sirius chuckled, thrusting his hips into you with more power, but you didn’t relent, the only sound coming out of you being little gasps for breaths. Sirius let go of your hip with one hand, circling it to your front and letting his fingers delve between your folds to rub at your clit. He felt your leg twitch, and throwing your head back onto Sirius’s shoulder, you allowed him the view of your teeth freeing your bottom lip, mouth opening to let a high pitched moan disperse into the chilly afternoon air.

“Oh god!” You cried, letting go of the railing with one hand to reach back towards Sirius. Sirius let go of your hip, his free hand now reaching forward to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He caressed his thumb over your hand, pressing fluttering kisses on your neck as he continued steadily thrusting into you. “‘M so close!” You breathed out, your chest heaving as you tried catching your breath. Each intake was broken up by new moans rippling to your surface, Sirius’s fingers making quick work on your clit.

“Come on, cum for me.” In your preoccupation over your own pleasure, you failed to realise that Sirius’s thrusts were becoming sloppier, prioritising power over speed as he reached his orgasm. You whined loudly as you came, your orgasm causing a violent shake in your thighs, legs barely holding you up. Sirius wrapped an arm around your waist to help steady you, biting your shoulder to muffle his own cries as he unloaded his load of cum into you, thrusts gently subsiding. “Fuck, fuck, I love you, I love you so much.” The cloud of pleasure cleared from your brain just as Sirius uttered those words, and your eyes widened, hands gripping the railing one more as Sirius finally pulled out of you.

You didn’t give the boy a moment to recover before you were spinning around to look at him with a wide grin on your face. “What was that?” You teased, watching as his face turned a deep shade of red in humiliation. “Nothing, I- nothing.” He mumbled, tucking himself back in his trousers.

You stalked closer to Sirius, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his chest. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you. “So if it’s nothing, then now isn’t a good time to confess my feelings for you?” Sirius’s eyes shot wide open at your question, and he immediately scanned your face as though trying to detect a sign that you were lying. “You like me?” But to answer his inquiry, you only pushed yourself up on your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his.

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Familiar Faces and Factions

The trailer for Dragon Age: The Veilguard has dropped, and I couldn’t be more excited. It’s like a new breath of life has entered my lungs!

Within the trailer, we now have confirmation of who our seven companions are going to be, and among them are a few familiar faces from the book Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights. We also have some name-droppings of a couple factions featured in the same book and the comics, Dragon Age: The Missing. So, here is what knowledge is established about these faces sand factions.

Neve Gallus & The Shadow Dragons

Neve Gallus was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “The Streets of Minrathous”. She comes off as a no-nonsense and a little intense kind of person. Neve is a Tevinter mage who works as a private investigator. For example, if someone wants some detective work done but doesn’t want the public to know, they would hire Neve. On occasion, she’s even been hired by the templars, who act like just regular cops in Tevinter – and yes, that includes their corruption and primary goal of simply protecting the elite – but Neve prefers to work alone because of that corruption, and has a personal grudge against the order for taking bribes to cover up crimes.

Neve has a prosthetic leg below the knee, made of dwarven-crafted metal.

In The Missing, Neve says she is friends with the Shadow Dragons. In the article shared by EA, as of The Veilguard, she is officially a member. The Shadow Dragons are a group of concerned Tevinter citizens who help those in need. This includes supporting escaped slaves, for example.

Emmrich Volkahrin

Emmrich Volkahrin was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “Down Among the Dead Men”. He is a necromancer from Nevarra, and therefore naturally a member of the Mortalitasi – specifically, a professor in the Mourn Watch. The Watchers serve as elite guardians of the Grand Necropolis. Emmrich is on the eccentric side, personality-wise, but kindly and informal.

Emmrich has a skeleton assistant name of Manfred, who helps him with different office tasks. He also has friends in Myrna, a fellow Watcher, and Audric, a dead guardsmen who looks after the library.

Lucanis Dellamorte

Lucanis Dellamorte was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “The Wigmaker Job”. He is the favourite grandson of Caterina Dellamorte, First Talon (leader) of the Antivan Crows. As such, he was raised from birth to be the perfect assassin in a ruthless and torturous environment, knowing only cruelty from his family. This has led to him feeling less like a person and more like a living weapon – and he is treated like one by everyone who knows of him. He has “the Demon” as a nickname.

I know a few people are curious about the “mage killer” title in the trailer. Rest assured that Lucanis specifically kills evil blood mages. In his own words: “If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I’m not going to complain.”

Where his cousin Illario has a “silver tongue” as Lucanis puts it, he himself is a lot blunter. His reputation of a killer is spotless, except for one small problem: He has a heart under all that black leather.

Lucanis and Illario get along quite well, except for the fact that Lucanis is destined to be the next First Talon, after Caterina dies. Illario wants the job far more than Lucanis, but Lucanis isn’t sure he’s capable of making a decision for himself that goes against the wishes of the Crows.

The Veil Jumpers

The Veil Jumpers were first introduced in The Missing #3. They are a group made up of primarily Dalish elves, though also inclusive of other folks of any walks of life willing to help, working to try and control the new threats within Arlathan Forest. The forest has become a ground of chaotic magic, with the Veil so thin that time and place is jumbled together. Thus, the Veil Jumpers move in and out of the spots that bleed into one another.

The Veil Jumpers do have a headquarters called “The Sanctum”, but we know nothing else about it.

The Lords of Fortune

Despite the Lords of Fortune being mentioned in more than one Tevinter Nights story, as well as the show Dragon Age: Absolution, we don’t know a lot about them. The only concrete information provided is that they are a loose group of people who collect trinkets and glory. They come out of Rivain. They typically wear a lot of their collected trinkets like badges of honour. That’s really all there is, so I can’t wait to learn more.