#d1 x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

d1stalker · 9 months ago

Text

The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route.

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear.

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly.

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind.

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute.

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck?

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of?

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back.

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it.

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice.

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye.

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you.

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness.

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made.

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive.

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found.

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that.

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

2K notes · View notes

kesadoll · 3 months ago

Text

♡ sum. hotboxing the car w/ your lil side piece eren after being relentlessly cheated on by your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend...

ㅤㅤㅤ𓂃꒰꒰petnames: baby, good girl┆reader calls him ♡ ren ♡꒱

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰୨୧꒱ ik this one is a little taboo,, but it was too good

not once in a million years did you ever think you’d be in a situation like this. it was dark outside, rain falling down the windows of the car you were in, illuminated by the streetlights of the neighborhood.

it wasn’t your neighborhood; it belonged to your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. and it wasn’t your car either, you were in the passenger side of a dark-colored audi that belonged to your proud side piece: eren.

you didn’t intend to have one, but after finding out your boyfriend cheated on you, and continued to do so, you wanted to get back at him. part of you wished that you could work things out, but after months of the same hurt and pointless fights, you knew it was time to let him go, but it hurt so bad.

eren was almost too excited to take you to the man’s house. he always wanted you to himself, but he put that aside if it meant that he could have you over at his house whenever that asshole made you upset and make you forget all about it.

“you good?” eren finally spoke, taking a hit of the blunt he lit just moments ago, and handing it to you afterward.

you blinked away your tears and nodded, taking the blunt and hitting it, leaning back in your seat.

“listen you got this, yeah?” his voice was soft, noticing how upset you looked. it pissed him off, but he set that aside, focusing on you as he always did, “it’s hard to hear, but there’s just some things you need to let go. i get it, trust me i do.”

you looked away, knowing if you looked back at him you’d sob all over him, “i-i just didn’t think it would be like this, y’know?”

“cmere.” he scooted his seat back simultaneously. as he patted his lap to signal to you to crawl over and sit in his lap, and you complied.

with your back to his chest, he handed you his phone to let you pick whatever song you wanted, the music playing low on the speakers (all for me - mariah the scientist). you were finally starting to relax, feeling eren’s hands come up and wipe whatever tears were left in your cheeks.

“smoke your lil blunt ‘n relax, i got you baby,” he mumbled against your neck before kissing it, his hands running along your thick curves. god.

your eyes fluttered shut and your head lolled back, resting it against eren’s shoulder. you were always so nervous around eren but it couldn’t be helped. he always knew how to speak to you and how to touch you. even now he whispers “good girl” and “i got you, baby” in your ear while his hands rub and squeeze everything they touch. his cock was even pressing up against your ass, begging to be freed.

“‘ren..” you stammered, but was cut off by a gentle “shhh” against your ear, already turning you into putty.

“i know, baby. he’s got your mind all fucked up; i just wanna fix it for you..just let me..” his voice trailed off while he pulled the blunt from your fingers, ashing it, and sitting it in one of the cup holders.

he held the bottom of your chin with his other hand, making you look up at him. eren’s eyes were low and red, his lips dangerously close to yours. he was still a moment, admiring the sight before him. your beautiful curly hair, your beautifully sad eyes, the way your thick brown thighs were already trembling, and it only made him want you more.

his lips met yours, his tongue exploring your mouth like never before. eren was always so nasty with you, always copping a feel whenever you were out with him and his friends, knowing what was at stake for you had anyone your boyfriend knew had been around. it was a confusing thing, but you liked it. just as much as eren loved your body, he loved you. the two of you went to the same college, and from what you knew, eren was supposed to be some kind of pussy hungry dickhead, and even his friends teased him for how different he acted once you came around.

eren’s hand slid from under your breast and down your stomach slowly. feeling the warmth of his skin move down your body like that gave you chills, and he knew that, especially with how your back arched off his chest and you brought a hand to his forearm to push it down.

“yeah?” eren mumbled against your lips, to which you nodded. he slid his slender fingers down into your panties, wasting no time to drop to your cunt that was dripping….

needless to say, you broke up with your boyfriend that night, and eren took you back to his place.

478 notes · View notes

crsssie · 4 months ago

Text

hawk's eye view (spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader)

summary: "pick up the weird freak who's got insane aim" they said. "it'll lower the death rate in the BAU cases" they said. yes, but did one consider that maybe instead of a breath of fresh air, this new "breath" won't let anyone else breathe?!??! god forbid an unsub get away dead if you can help it

"stop breathing in my ear I can't feel the wind speed." "?!?!?!?!?!"

Bullet Casings

sharpshooter

down the neck

convincing

quiet

called in

ring ring

floor seven

earth wind and fire

shoes

distracted

code

reidsplaining

sniffles and sneezes

deux ex machina

music

let's go gambling!

valentine's

shot

babysitting

underprepared

glasses

walk

fifty bucks

tease

kissyou

maeve

beach

windy

training

LDSK

teach

#I'm SO sorry for clogging the tag it'll go back to one per day I promise #☾.snippy #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #everything that's on the list that has no link is in the drafts. yeah im a d1 yapper WHAT ABOUT IT #☾.masterlist #also all blurbs with ep refs will have them in tags #jesus christ i need to stop writing for this au

398 notes · View notes

kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

can u do one where isagis gf clearly wants to fuck but he's too dumb to notice and starts yapping about football

“𝐃𝟏 𝐲𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫”

a/n: THIS REQUEST HAS ME ROLLING ON THE FLOOR

(art credits go to louvbon on twt)

you’re curled up against isagi on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder, your hand casually placed on his thigh. he’s fresh out of the shower, his hair still damp, smelling like body wash and the kind of man you want to ruin.

and you’re in the mood.

you tilt your head up, giving him what should be a painfully obvious look – eyes lidded, lips slightly parted. your fingers start tracing little patterns on his leg, creeping up slowly, deliberately.

he doesn’t react.

you press closer, practically molding yourself against him, lips barely an inch from his jaw. “yoichi,” you murmur, voice needy.

“huh?” he says, completely oblivious. “oh, did i tell you about training today?”

you blink. your hand pauses. this cannot be happening.

“reo tried to cut me off, but i already saw it coming, so i faked left, and then –”

you slide your hand higher, hoping he’ll get the damn hint.

he doesn’t.

“– so nagi thought he had me cornered, but i knew bachira was in position, so i –”

you tighten your grip on his thigh. surely, surely he will notice now.

he does. but not in the way you want.

“oh, yeah, that spot’s sore,” he says, stretching his leg. “thanks, love.”

you stare at him. blink. take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“yoichi.”

he finally looks at you, his big blue eyes wide and stupid. “what’s up?”

you slide your hand even higher. lean in closer.

“baby,” you try again, slow and clear, like you’re speaking to a small child. “i. want. you.”

his face brightens. hope flutters in your chest. he finally gets it –

“ohhh,” he says. “you wanna see the play?”

you swear you see god. and he is laughing at you.

“yoichi.” your patience is hanging on by a thread. you grab his face with both hands, forcing him to focus. “i want. you.”

he blinks, slowly. gears turn in that soccer-ridden brain of his.

“… you mean like, for training?”

your soul leaves your body.

“no, dumbass!” you groan, throwing yourself onto his chest. you feel him chuckle, his hand rubbing your back, still not getting it.

“oh, you’re tired? we can sleep early if you want.”

a muffled scream leaves your mouth, straight into his shirt. you contemplate whether loving this idiot is worth it.

and as if to personally insult you, he kisses the top of your head and goes back to talking about soccer.

#isagi is a division 1 yapper (like me)#i love him but i feel like this would actually drive me insane #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #D1 yapper

328 notes · View notes

moniheartsluffy · 11 months ago

Text

one piece headcannons pt2

a/n: don’t worry bout nun sweetheart. just laugh n vibe🫡

luffy: we all know how luffy acts but i think that everytime he sees his grandpa or his brothers he starts acting like the whiney kid he was when he was younger.

kidd: him and killer made the “if im not married by 30 then we’re getting married” promise to eachother. killer forgot all about it but the memory of it haunts kidd til this day.

doflamingo: i swear that he has tripped over that feather cape he be wearing.

law but younger: he has dyed doffy’s feather cape black and hid corazon’s and proceeded to help them search for it… (absolute menace)

franky: he has 100% poured water on iceberg in his sleep and til this day he’s never gotten caught.

ussop: for a period of his childhood i feel like he was an adamant believer that he didn’t have a dad. (yassop knew he could’ve sent a letter or sum)

benn becky: acts like the responsible one but is just as irresponsible as shanks when it comes to certain things (THEM FAWKING CIGARETTES THATS RLLY A BLUNT)

sanji: he has a journal(it’s a diary) and he writes little letters to his mom everyday…he’s done it since she passed and he still has all the journals he went through. (damn that’s kinda sad)

whitebeard: as much as he’d hate to admit it…he kinda considers shanks and buggy as his sons seeing as he kinda watched them grow up. (him and roger coparented lol)

roger: he accidentally forgot shanks and buggy on an island…yes it happened more than once. (man ik rayleigh was on his ass..)

511 notes · View notes

kagamine-d1sorder · 8 days ago

Text

Finders Keepers

Solivan Brugmansia x reader(kinda reader isnt in this tho), masturbation, waking it, Sol is freaky idk what else to put. This is very short btw deal with it also I refuse to proofread anything

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sol meant to return the notebook.

He really did! When he found it lying on your desk in art class, he had strictly pure intentions when picking it up. Well, mostly pure intentions. Can you blame the guy? I mean, he really is innocent in all this. Curiosity got the best of him, and he just happened to open the notebook.

He expected to see some doodles, maybe a few full fledged drawings. So imagine his surprise when he saw your name written right next to his last name. His heart started beating so fast, he swears it almost exploded. Sol took a breath, and shoved the book in his bag. His self control slipping as he held the bag over his shoulders and kept his head down through the hall.

His steps were firm and purposeful as he weaved through the crowd, making a beeline for the bathroom. Sol had chosen the gender neutral bathroom, given its the only single person one. He lets out a breath as he steps in and locks the door. He leans against the wall and slides down it to sit on the floor. The notebook is pulled from his bag, and on instinct he opens it up. He just stares at the names. You want his last name.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock. He grasps it and bites his lip, slowly giving it a few pumps. "Fuck pumpkin.. see what you do to me..?" Sol mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he swirls his thumb around his tip, smearing his precum on it. He gives his head a light squeeze before stroking himself a few more times.

His other hand is on the notebook, his thumb grazing the area where you had written his last name. He bites his lip, knowing he can't be as vocal as he'd like to be. He throws his head back, picking up the pace. "Fucking shit-" Solivan huffs as he cums into his hand and onto the notebook. He clenches his teeth and gives himself a few more pumps before buckling belt and washing his hands. He looks at the notebook and sighs.

"Sorry pumpkin." He murmurs as if you'd be able to hear him. He shuts the notebook and puts it in his bag. You wouldn't want it back in this condition anyway.

#idk why i wrote this #solivan brugmansia #sol x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb sol #solivan x reader #solivan brugmansia x reader #is this peak #sol is a D1 gooner

137 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 1 year ago

Text

The Story of Us

Summary - After Nyx is given a school project on his family, the Inner Circles Quad is stuck trying to explain their love life to their nephew.

Prompt Day 1 - Beginnings

Warnings - Nyx is smart and sassy, flashbacks, kind of forced mating bond, jealousy and fighting, rough patches before a happy ending, slightly implied smut

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek

This is based on one of my friends having to explain this similar situation to her daughters. We, as a society, could do so much for eliminating stereotypes in the poly community if we openly discussed it and normalized it with kids. Her daughters have been raised in a household with a Quad and see the love their parents share as completely normal, and isn't that such a beautiful thing? To be able to freely love without judgement.

Peep the Poly+Acotarweek Masterlist here

Nyx blinked so innocently at you. His tiny fist gripped his pencil as he mimicked your blinking, waiting for you, Azriel, Nesta, or Cassian to answer him. Rhys and Feyre stood behind him with shit eating grins, waiting for how you all would respond.

The heir stared mainly at you, his damn near mirror image, as you looked up at your older brother Rhys and then back down to your nephew. “Auntie Y/n, I need to know! It's for school,” his little face pouted, and all eyes landed on you.

You sighed, leaning your elbows top your knees. “Well, baby, I don't know how to explain or where you want me to start.”

Nyx huffed, looking at you like you were stupid and making Rhys further chuckle. “I know you sleep with Uncle Cassian,” the mentioned male spit out his water, praying their nephew simply meant sharing a bed and not other activities. “And Auntie Ness,” Nesta held no reaction, not even an ounce of shame. “And Uncle Azzy.” Azriel looked away, scratching his jaw line. “And last weekend when I came up to surprise you, all four of you were in one bed and Uncle Cass made me wait before I could snuggle, and daddy only makes me do that when he and mommy -"

Rhys covered Nyx's mouth, his own face flushed as Feyre's ears turned pink. “What he wants to know is how to explain the dynamic.” Since you know for our kind this is not normal, Rhys said gently into your mind. A three-way bond is rare. A 4-way bond is unheard of.

Azriel spoke softly. “We all love each other, Nyx,” he said it like it was the easiest thing to explain to a child with parents who enjoy their monogamous marriage and traditional mating bond, as if Nyx would just understand. “We all love each other so much, and we all enjoy being together. All the time.”

Nyx rolled his eyes. “I know. But how?” He waited again, brows raised and a small pout growing in his face.

Cassian smiled nodding to you. “You tell him, princess.”

You looked at Az, the smile on his face told every single emotion he had. “A long long loooooong time ago,” Nyx giggled as you held the vowel, “Your daddy and Uncle Cass brought home this weird,” a soft watch it came from beside you, “but kind of cute Illyrian, and I had my first crush.”

The quiet male standing behind Rhys and Cassian rocked back and forth on his feet as you looked at him. He was beautiful, all be it, awkward, but still beautiful. “Sis, meet Azriel,” you waved from behind your mother's leg. “He's going to live with us.”

“Third brother!” Cassian threw his arms up, yelling and then hugging the male with scarred hands and damaged wings tightly.

“Brother!” Rhys then also went in to hug him, rambling about all the cool things they'd be doing together. Hazel eyes met yours, and plush lips mouthed, “Help me.”

You smiled softly at him, offering him a hand and pulling him away from the idiots around you two. "Do you like chocolate?" He nodded at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. "Good."

“They were inseparable after that,” Cassian grumbled. His tone was filled with old aching jealousy. “Unless Azriel was training or agreed to hang out with us. He was with y/n.”

The sparkle in Nyx's eye as he looked at where you and Azriel sat, lost to all of them as the male kissed your knuckles made Cassian's heart skip. “Did they know they were mates?”

“No,” Cassian was soft now. “That happened under different circumstances.”

"I've apologized many times, Cassian." Azriel stared towards the larger male. "Will you ever actually forgive us?"

"It's not you two I still hold anger towards."

Cassian had you alone. Finally alone.

You had been courting for months now, but every date always had at least one tag along. The kiss you two were in was frantic and heated as he held you against the wall. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip, smirking as you gasped softly and gave him more access to you. His lips moved to your neck, pulling the dress you had worn out of the way.

Cassian shivered as you whispered his name. Loving how he could reduce his educated little princess to nothing more than a girl desperate for his touch. You both jumped as the door slammed shut, two arguing voices carrying through the house. “Y/n!” You sighed as Cassian's grip grew tighter. “Cass!”

Azriel walked in seconds later, eyes going wide as he stood there in shock. It took him a moment, composing himself the best he could while looking just at you. “Your father is here. He will be coming to the house any second now.”Azriel's mind was slowly becoming a storm as he walked away. Allowing you to compose yourself before your father came and demanded dinner with his son, daughter, and their tagalongs. Your mother was trapped in Velaris heavily pregnant, unable to help you all, to help him. Of all the times for a bond to snap, it had to be while your legs were wrapped around Cassian, delicate fingers threaded through his hair.

You were downstairs, setting the table quickly. Silently grateful you had planned to cook enough for a small army to ensure there was food for Rhys and Azriel. You felt him long before he spoke. That dominating presence just sucking the life and air from the happy cabin.

“Ah, little star,” soft hands held your jaw from behind. “You smell..” His nose was in your hair as your eyes shut, sniffing it deeply to place whatever scent he had caught. “Interesting. We will discuss you degrading yourself late." A pointed look when Rhysand's way, causing your older brother to flinch internally before shielding Cassian from any attacks. "Serve dinner, y/n. We have much to discuss.”

“So grandpa made Auntie serve Uncle Az dinner? And Auntie was dating Uncle Cass?”

Rhys nodded from the spot he had now taken next to Nyx. “Yes.”

“But that meant her and Uncle Az were married now.” You all couldn't help but smile at Nyx's innocence of what had happened that night. “But that's not fair.”

“No buddy, it wasn't,” Cassian looked at you and Azriel. “It took us a while to be friends again.”

"But again," Azriel waited until Nyx looked to him. "We love each other. So we wanted to become friends again."

“What made you two friends?”

The question caused silence to hang in the air as you suddenly moved close into Nesta, seeking her comfort to stop you from crying. Azriel took a deep breath, “We lost some people, and Uncle Cass saved Auntie Y/n.”

"Like a knight saving a princess!"

Cassian scented your blood as the warriors ran to where the reports of a disturbance came from. It mixed heavily with the scent of soil, of your mother's blood, of little Stel’s blood.

He felt a weird pulling. As if something was desperately clawing at his chest, begging him to find you, and when he did, he went silent.

You were unconscious on the ground, wings carved from your back, bruising everywhere. He flew you to your father, growling as healers ripped you from his arms. “How did you find her before I did?” Azriel's eyes were cold, staring at him from across the room.

“She called for me.” Cassian refused to leave your side as you healed. He was the first to hold you when you woke up, the one to teach you how to walk again. As much as it had irritated Azriel, the shadowsinger felt it, too. A strained pull bringing the three of you together. Binding your lives and very souls.

“So the three of you all dated?”

“Yeah,” Azriel leaned forward, reading Nyx carefully. “And you know how Auntie Ness got involved. Does it bother you?”

A little lip trembled. “If you all love each other, how can you love me?”

Nesta was to him instantly. Cradling her little life line so tight. “It's different, baby. But there's so much love for you. All the love for you. We'd all do anything for you, Nyx. We all love you so so much."

You moved by him, too, kissing a small hand. "Some people have so much love to give that their hearts overflow, Nyx. Trust us, we love you as much, if not almost more, than we love each other." You kissed his palm again. "But that doesn't answer the question, baby. Does it bother you that we all are married?"

Nyx thought for a while, young eyes filled with so much hope and knowledge studying each of you. "No. It's my favorite."

Silence fell between the 4 of you that night. “Do you think he understands?” You were the first to break the quiet. “Do we need to stop until he gets it?”

“If we don't raise him with this being the norm, he will never see it as a norm,” Cassian sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “He needs to grow up knowing it's normal for some people to love more than one person like this. Not everyone has one love of their life, y/n. Some of us get the honor of falling in love over and over again."

“I've never heard the full story.” Nesta moved next to Azriel. “Of how you three began. I have a feeling you left details out.”

You answered plainly. “Several fights. Verbal and physical. A lot crying. A lot of sex. Rhys yelled a lot. Like. More than he ever has at you. I got locked in the Palace by father at one point."

“So what was the final decision? What made two three?”

Cassian, you, and Azriel all smiled. “The first Solstice with Rhys trapped Under the Mountain.”

You refused to leave bed. Refused to eat. You refused to so much as even think about solstice without your brother.

It felt wrong.

Like you were playing this role of someone you were never meant to play. You stayed in his room, Azriel, Cassian, Mor, and Amren long forgotten. You had not spoken with your mates since Rhys left your head, whispering soft words of how much you mean to him, of how his greatest joy in life was being your big brother.

You didn't even respond as the door opened and the bed dipped in two places. “We miss him too,” Cassian moved his hand to find yours under the blanket. “We tried having a snowball fight, but it just didn't feel right.”

Azriel hummed from where he had moved to lay behind you. “Not just because Rhysand is missing, but our girl wasn't there cheering us on from the sidelines.”

“I'm sorry-”

“Do not apologize, princess.” Cassian laid next to you then, too. “If this is where you'd like to be today, we need to be good mates and be here, too.”

Azriel's lips pressed softly on your shoulder. “We were hoping Solstice would be extra special this year. Cassian and I have talked a lot, and we both think there's enough love inside of all of us to make this work.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Really?”

Cassian nodded. “I loved you long before he came into the picture, and I've realized slowly how much I love him as well.”

“And I feel the same,” Azriel moved a hand to rest above yours and Cassian's. “And I know you do, starlight.”

“So this is my solstice present? No more fighting?”

“No more fighting,” they confirmed together.

“Rhys would be so happy. I wish he was here.”

The two males shared a look. One sparing glance. Azriel brushed soft onyx colored hair from your face. "We do too. Do you know what Rhys would have liked for Solstice?"

Cassian kissed your shoulder, finishing Azriel's thought. "You to eat something."

“And then 50 years later you came,” you smiled so softly. “And you shook everything I'd ever thought about myself.”

Nesta's face flushed. “Was I?”

“My first and last time with a female.”

“Oh,” Nesta's hands played with the hem of her dress. “When I was human, I never imagined this. The first time I saw the first of you together, I didn't know what to think.”

Cassian smiled, “We're a lot.”

“It wasn't that. I.. Deep down I wanted to be a part of it from the first dinner. It was like-”

“You found home?” Azriel ran a finger down her cheek. “You sure as fuck fought it, Ness.”

“Because it was scary. Loving so many people so deeply is terrifying.”

“And magical.”

She looked at you, and nodded to confirm. “Beyond magical.”

“Yes. It is.”

Cassian smacked your ass slightly before standing. “Rhys said Nyx is going to say we all just live together and love each other a lot and he likes it.”

Azriel stood behind him. “Separate beds tonight or one?”

“One,” the general answered with a shrug. “We will see you two in bed.”

You both wished them goodnight as Nesta smiled softly into the fire. You leaned to her, holding those perfect manicured hands. She smiled before laughing out a soft what. “I know it's still strange for you, but it's amazing how much room we all truly have for people in our hearts, if we're brave enough to allow them in.”

“Sometimes my heart is so full, I just worry I will wake up and it's all been a lie.”

“Never, Ness. I have you. You have me. We have them. They have us, and the beautiful thing is that love flows freely. And it always will, so long as you wish for it to.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Nesta. Let's go to bed and hope our nephew doesn't make us look like heathens.”

“There's no one else I'd rather be a heathen with,” soft lips met yours before resting a forehead against yours. “You were my favorite to fall in love with. You know that?”

“Really?” The oldest Archeron nodded. “Tell me our story from your eyes someday?”

“I will.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys

Poly Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar x reader #poly+acotarweek #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek 2024 d1 #azriel x reader x nessian #azriel x reader #nessian x reader #cazriel x reader #nesta x reader #acotar #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #nesta acotar

685 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

Text

Together for the First Time

Feysand x reader

A/n: happy Poly week! I’m so excited to be doing this and reading what everyone else has come up with. Today is Day 1 which is beginnings. I decided to do when Feysand and reader start being open with the Inner Circle about their relationship and of course Cassian’s inability to keep a secret. @polyacotarweek

Warnings: none

For the first time in two hundred years Cassian was actually early for a meeting with his brothers. He even had a lil pep in his step. Things were good, great even. He and Nesta were good, Nyx loved spending time with him, the family was at peace. Nothing could ruin Cassian’s day.

A giggle from inside Rhys’s office interrupted his thoughts. It sounded unfamiliar.

Creeping closer to the door Cassian finds it cracked open. Willing his massive body to be stealthy he holds his breath and listens.

That sweet giggle rings through the room again along with Rhys and Feyre’s laughter. Odd. Cassian wasn’t aware of any other meetings today. He was supposed to take up all of his brothers’ time today.

“Alright,” that voice. Cassian knows that voice. Where has he heard that voice?

“We should probably go get Nyx from his nap together. Since Rhys put him down he’s going to want us.”

Cassian slightly turned his head to look through the cracked door. The sight had his jaw unhinging, practically hitting the floor. Rhys kissing Feyre then you. You, y/n! With his brother and Feyre! When on earth did this happen?

Cassian began to panic. Oh Mother, what if he’s the only one that knows? Cass won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.

As you and Feyre made your way to the door Cassian began to jog as quietly as possible around the corner. Peaking, he watched you and Feyre walk down the hall hand in hand.

Plastering himself against the wall he waits a few moments before heading into Rhys’s office. Composing himself he enters the office ready to give Rhys his update about the Illyrian army.

———

Rhys thought about his brother's odd behavior as he followed the sound of his son's playful giggles. What on earth had Cassian so jumpy and tense?

He shook his head forgetting all about the stressful conversation.

Upon seeing you and Feyre playing with Nyx his smile widened. Sitting on the floor Rhys began to hand his son blocks for the little village he was focused on constructing.

“Are you two sure you want to do this tonight?” You ask from your spot in the corner of the room, propped up by the mountain the size of Ramiel of Nyx’s stuffed toys.

Feyre and Rhys give you a sad look. “Why wouldn’t we be sure?” Rhys coos at you.

You shrug at them, looking away absentmindedly playing with the wing of a stuffed owl. “What if the family doesn’t accept us, me?”

They move to either side of you, squishing you in a side hug. “Of course they will. And even if they don’t it doesn’t matter.” “You’re positive?”

“Sweet girl, you are our mate. Of course we are sure.” Rhys kisses your forehead as Feyre kisses your cheek. Nyx huffs, feeling left out the small boy yells, “Hey! No fair, I want kisses too!” He throws his small body onto the three of you. Knocking you back into the stuffed animals in a fit of giggles.

———

Dinner started with light conversation and a delicious appetizer thanks to Elain. You sit with Rhys and Feyre at the end of the table. Your chair very close to the two of them.

Cassian felt like he was going to explode. He has kept this gods damned secret to himself all day. Another new record.

As the main course appears with a wave of Rhys’s hand he clears his throat. The family’s attention turns to him. All happy and content faces.

“Feyre and I have exciting news to share with you.” The two look at you, bright smiles on their faces as the bond hums between the three of you.

Anticipation coursed through the room as Rhys grasped your hand, giving it a loving squeeze.

“We have discovered a triad bond. Between myself, Feyre, and y/n.” He said happily, beaming at his friends. You couldn’t look at them. Holding your breath your eyes dart around everyone’s faces.

You found nothing but love and acceptance. Mor raised her wine glass, “Congratulations! This is rare, but wow! You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

The rest raise their glasses cheering, “here, here!”

At that hour anxiety was relieved. It seemed so was Cassian’s. After taking a huge gulp of wine Cass he breathed out the loudest sigh of relief. His head hitting the table. “Thank the Mother!” Everyone looked at him, Azriel let out one of those rare laughs at his brother's antics. “Cass?” Feyre asks with a chuckle.

“I saw you and y/n earlier coming out of the office, I also saw you guys in the office because I was early. I’ve been keeping this damn secret all day and thank gods you said something!” He rambled.

“Wait,” Rhys looks at him with a raised brow, “you were early?

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #feyre x you #feyre x reader #Feyre archeron #feyre acotar #feyreandrhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #poly!feysand x you #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x reader #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d1

454 notes · View notes

followmybadreligion · 20 days ago

Text

thinking about an ex!boyfriend who yearns for you like a true star-crossed lover…

the kind of man who was never after sex. you could have never been intimate in that way and his feelings would all be the same. never after your body, always after your soul.

he regrets your loss like no other. your absence is nearly debilitating— something that haunts him like a horrid nightmare he simply can’t wake from.

it was nearly unavoidable, the break up between you too. almost as if you two were never meant to come together. yet, he wanted it so bad.

he never approaches you again, fearing the damage he could do. too afraid to touch you again. too afraid to hear your voice.

but secretly, he watches. he waits. he hopes for the day you come back to him, arms open and willing to embrace him again.

he’ll never move on. just as he told you, “if it’s not you, it’s no one.”

he’s never seen himself sharing an apartment, a room, or a bed. never wanted marriage or a baby. never wanted a house with a porch and a picket fence. none of it ever spoke to him until he experienced you. no stand-in will do. he’s not interested in that life with anyone else. he’d rather be alone than with someone who’s not you.

the type of guy that you could call on for years and years, commanding him to the end of the earth, and he’ll walk it without an expectation of return. anything to put a smile on your face.

you’ll never doubt that there’s a man who loves you with him in the world. he will look for you in the eyes of every other person he encounters.

he carries the purest, most soul-crushing form of love </3

#d1 yearner #ex boyfriend #yandere!boyfriend #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere #he’s definitely a #jeff buckley fan #fake plastic trees #type beat #we’ll never have sex #vibes

135 notes · View notes

garden0fyves · 2 months ago

Text

thinking about... d1 athlete!toji who can't believe he has such a beautiful and intelligent girlfriend.

toji worships the ground you walk on. you're so fucking perfect, from the way you support his career to the way you stay up late waiting for him to return from away games. you've met him at the airport many times, all bright eyed and holding flowers for him. people have posted about the two of you so many times, saying just how well you treat each other. you’re the epitome of couple goals even if you do spend a decent amount of time explaining to your boyfriend that you’re here for him. always.

toji refuses to let you go. he's heard the horror stories of wag's being impatient with their partners or cheating on them because of feelings of neglect. you're the most patient person he's ever met, and he's the most impatient person you've ever met. you're patient because you grew up that way, toji's impatient because he's never had enough time. so, you allow him to be. toji knows how incredibly lucky he is because not only are you beautiful, patient, and possibly the best thing to happen to him, but you're damn near a genius. you made the president's list last year and are aiming to continue your streak this year.

toji's reminded how lucky he is when he makes eye contact with you after scoring. when he's running to the sideline to press a kiss to your lips, green eyes alight with mischief and adrenaline from running down the field. he's also reminded when he comes back from a rough game with grit teeth and unshed tears of anger in his eyes. toji's never believed in showing his emotions so openly, but when you press a kiss to his cheek and relay every single thing he did right to to him it's hard not to cry.

you're perfect. and he doesn't mean this because you're his girlfriend, his first real one since he was an asshole in high school.

if it makes toji feel better, you think he’s also perfect. you struggled with relationships in high school because you felt like you weren’t seen beyond your intelligence. everyone wanted to be seen with you for the purpose of having a popular girlfriend, never for your personality or your heart. you were sweet in high school, don’t get me wrong. but you were a party favor to them, a trophy of sorts. toji's the first to make you feel seen and valued.

it was so surprising when you met toji in your intro to psych lecture. he sat beside you, all big and muscly barely fitting in the desk. he didn’t speak much at first, but as the assignments grew harder he needed help to pass and continue playing. so, he made friends with you. toji wouldn’t lie, he originally started talking to you because he thought you were hot. he knew you wouldn’t fuck him immediately and he wasn’t in the mood to play the long game. so for the first time in his life he tried to make an actual friend. it was a random decision to him, but this ended up meaning so much more to you.

you had no idea who toji was. as far as you knew, he was a random gym rat that was majoring in something like kinesiology (ouch) to get by and become a coach. while his major was kinesiology, toji and everyone around him knew he was going to the league after graduation. this wouldn’t matter in the long run. he’s here to play ball, but if he learns then he learns. and somehow, after knowing you for a year, toji finds himself wanting to learn.

you've made him smarter while he shows you that you're loved. your heart feels so full when you leave class to see toji lingering outside of the door. your heart warms when he abandons his teammates to catch up to you with a little smile on his lips. he always presses a kiss to your temple, asking how your lecture went or how your day was. toji makes time for you no matter what he has going on, and that's why you feel so valued by him. he's so busy as a football player. he has to deal with the media, practice, games, and even maintaining the image for your school. but still, at the end of the day, he returns to your apartment to keep you company while you study.

at the end of the day, he'll always be relived knowing he's coming home to you. he'll watch you with all of your books sprawled on the floor, glasses on and hair barely pulled back. he'll always come home because you are home. you've changed his life in just a year, and he wouldn't have it any other way. to everyone on campus toji's some sort of myth. the demon on their football team that racks up insane stats.

but to you, he's just your lover.

#d1 athlete toji ☆#gardenofyves #yvieyaps #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #fawkkk my shayla #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

6K notes · View notes

helloforhiii · 2 months ago

Text

cop!toji x reader

• warnings: CHUBBY, AND BLACK reader is implied but anyone can read, might be typos bc i have nails on, one of my first couple of fanfics, so not too muchhhhh, CAR!SÉX, LOWERCASE INTENDED!

• word count: 556

• a/n: came up with this a month ago while shitting and i didn’t have the app yet so i never did it. the title was always in my drafts i just never put it into motion. until now enjoy the movie..

• summary: you’re a broke college student rushing home after a stressful day on campus, you knew you were speeding but you didn’t think too much of it. you had a beeline to get home but little did you realize a cop was following you. you have no money so what else do you do to pay the ticket!!?

enjoy the movie folks 🎥🎬 !! xx

you had the most stressful day ever on campus. you moved from class, to class, to class, to class. you didn’t get a break, let alone eat lunch! all you wanted was to get home and just sleep. i mean you’ve been running on E since 6:00 am to 7:00 pm.

you start to see that red and blue SUV pull up behind you and you start pulling over and getting your license. “good evening miss-“ the officer said. you looked up at him with a more than irritated face. “yeah, yeah, yeah, i know the drill.” “oh good,” the officer explained. when you glanced at him previously, you didn’t even take in his full beauty. he had the most beautiful green eyes, perfect jawline, and that little scar on his lip.

“ma’am.” the officer said. “oh yeah here.” the officer took a good look at your license. “well ms. y/n, you were speeding so i’m gonna have to give you a ticket for.. uhm hold up let me calculate. a ticket for 300 dollars.” he looked up at you. you looked horrified. “300 dollars? 300 dollars?” you replied you voiced matched your face, both laced with horror. “yes 300 ma’am, see if you don’t want to pay this shit you can just go to the slammer. that’s easier on my part.”

“NO! that’s okay, but i’m a broke college student so maybe you could let me off the hook?” you had a hint of hope in your voice, just a slither. praying he’d let you off. “sorry that’s a no ma’am, that would be violating my oath.” you frantically looked for any money to scrape together to piece the 300 dollars. but you could only find 30 bucks. “officer, what is it,” you looked at his name tag “toji?? that’s it? well officer toji if you could just let me go home that’d be great, i’ve been everywhere all day, since 6:00. please let me go.” toji looked at you for a second, then looked at your license before taking a deep breath. “well me too sweetheart, but there’s a 30 day deadline to pay, or else your gonna be in jail for a couple days.”

“but i don’t have the money period!” you started to tear up, but just enough so only could notice. or you thought, he could tell too. “well look sweetie, i’ll let you go if you have something a bit extra.” at that point you knew he was talking about sex. you thought about it, well he was handsome. he looked just like those dilfs in the stupidly fake pornos you’d eagerly rub your clit to after a long day. you looked back up at him, this time with more hungry eyes. “sure.”

the next moment you found yourself in doggy position in the back of his cop car. he was pounding you so hard you wondered if he should’ve been a cop or the next johnny sins. you were moaning relentlessly. and he found pleasure in it, everytime you’d make a sound it seemed like it made him more determined to bring you to climax.

everything happened so quickly. you went from doggy, to missionary, to him eating you out, to you giving him head. it was wild. when you finished just say you’d never get a ticket again.

#jjk #gojo jjk #jjk smut #shoko jjk #shoko smut #shoko x reader #smut #spotify #big tiddy committee #d1 athlete toji ☆#jjk toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #choso smut

67 notes · View notes

d1stalker · 9 months ago

Text

The Feeling's Mutual | Part Two

Summary: Working with Logan means you have to accept constantly getting the short end of the stick; it means discovering things about yourself you didn't ever expect. Still, despite dealing with all of this, you two make a pretty good team.

PART ONE PART THREE

Warnings: bickering, graphic descriptions, canon-level violence, revelations WC: 8.2k - MASTERLIST

----

"Alright, you’ve slept long enough."

You're jolted awake by a rough tug on the covers, the sudden chill of the morning air hitting you like a slap in the face. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and you squint up at the figure looming over you.

Logan, with his perpetually grumpy expression, stands there with an annoyed look, as if your very act of sleeping is a personal offense.

You groan and sit up, the duvet still tangled around your legs, as you blearily glance at the small bedside clock on the rickety nightstand. The red numbers blink back at you: 7:00 AM. “Seriously?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, your other still clutching the edge of the bed. “It’s way too early for this. Can’t I get a few more minutes?”

His eyes narrow, not even a flicker of sympathy crossing his face. He rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ and crosses his arms over his chest. "You look fine to me," he says flatly, his voice dripping with impatience.

Throwing the covers back with more force than necessary, you let out an exaggerated sigh. The cold floor sends a shiver up your spine as your bare feet make contact with it. "What’s the rush?" you ask, your tone sharp with irritation as you glare up at him. "You’re acting like we’ve got a deadline."

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a telltale glint in his eye that betrays him. It’s subtle, but you catch it—a fleeting spark of amusement that makes you think he’s secretly enjoying riling you up. Suddenly he turns and heads toward the makeshift kitchen in the corner of the warehouse and pulls a piece of bread out of an ancient toaster, the appliance looking like it’s barely functioning.

Without warning, Logan flicks his wrist, and the piece of bread comes flying at you. The movement is so fast and precise that you barely have time to react. It’s only thanks to your heighten reflexes that your hand shoots out to catch the bread mid-air. You stare at it, bewildered, the heat from the toast seeping into your palm.

"What’s this for?" you ask, still confused and a little off-kilter from the morning's whirlwind of events.

He raises an eyebrow. "Fuck does it look like? Eat up."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take a bite of the slightly burnt toast. “You know," you mumble between bites, "you could’ve just handed it to me like a normal person."

"Where’s the fun in that?" he shoots back, a rare, almost genuine grin tugging at his lips as he watches you chew. There’s a moment of silence as you both settle into the morning routine, the tension easing just a bit.

As you finish the toast, you can’t help but glance up at Logan, who’s now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression.

"You wanna know why I really woke you up so early?" he asks, his voice low and direct.

"Why? Because you’re secretly a morning person who loves watching the sunrise?"

Logan snorts, clearly unimpressed with your sarcasm. "No, because your fighting form is shit"

You gape, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. "Excuse me?"

He doesn’t let up, leaning in a bit closer. "Yeah, you heard me. When we were fightin’, you were all over the place. If you’re gonna be any use out there today, you’ll need some pointers. So for a bit this morning, we’re gonna train."

"You woke me up early... to tell me I suck at combat?" You stare at him, processing his words. The audacity makes you want to laugh.

"You don’t suck,” he begins. “You just need to get better. And since I’m the one stuck with you on this mission, it’s my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed."

You let out a sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Great. Just what I needed first thing in the morning”

“Think of it as a warm up.”

He doesn’t wait for your agreement. Instead, he just jerks his head toward the exit and turns on his heel, clearly expecting you to follow. With a resigned sigh, you grab your boots and tug them on as you hurry to catch up with him. He leads you to a cracked patch of concrete behind the building, a makeshift training ground that looks as rough as you feel.

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

“Fine,” you say, squaring up.

In a flash, he lunges at you. Luckily, you dodge the first blow by sheer instinct, a sharp jab aimed at your ribs. The intensity sends a shockwave through your body, even though you managed to twist away just in time. It’s 7:00AM!!

Logan doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. He’s on you again, faster this time, his movements a blur as he swings a fist toward your head. You duck just in time, feeling the rush of air as his punch grazes past your temple. Jumping to the side, you try to put some distance between you and his relentless assault

"Faster!" he snaps, his voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. "You're movin’ like a damn slug. If this were a real fight, you'd be dead ten times over by now."

His words are irritating, but they only fuel your determination. Summoning the latent power within you, you leap back, opening a gap. You can feel it there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. He pounces again, and this time, you’re prepared. Channeling you super speed, you begin to dart around him, moving so fast he can’t keep up. In one swift motion, you lift your leg and land a swift kick to his side.

Logan grunts, but still he barely flinches, spinning around to face you. His eyes narrow in assessment. "Not bad," he grunts, "but not good enough."

His claws extend with a shink before you can even respond, and he swings at you, slicing right up in your face. You try to dodge, but the tips catch your cheek and create a deep gash.

"Are you trying to kill me?" you shout, frustration bubbling to the surface as you counter with a punch of your own, your strength amplifying the blow.

Logan blocks it with his forearm, the impact reverberating through both of you. You’re pretty sure you heard a few bones crack. He snarls, his eyes flashing with challenge and something else—maybe pride. If you want to be optimistic.

"I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed," he retorts, pushing you back with a forceful shove.

Your anger blazes at his words, and without thinking, your powers flare up again. This time, your hands crackle with energy, a faint orange glow sparking to life at your fingertips. You lash out at him with a rapid series of punches, each one laced with your mutant energy. He dodges most of them, but a few land, sending sparks flying where they connect with his body.

"That’s more like it" he says. He advances, switching to the offensive, forcing you to backpedal. "But you’re still letting your emotions get the better of you."

"Maybe because you’re pissing me off, asshole!" you snap, your frustration boiling over as you land another punch, this time aiming for his chest. The impact sends him stumbling back a good five metres, but he recovers quickly, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Good," he says, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the pain. "Just don’t let it control you.""

His words barely register as your anger continues to rise, fueled by his constant ‘pointers’. You keep pushing, your attacks becoming more aggressive, more reckless. Logan meets each one with an attack of his own, his claws flashing as they slice through the air, blocking your every move. The tension between you is electric, the air thick with the energy of your growing powers and the heat of your rising emotions. You go at him again, harder this time, and that’s when it happens.

Something straight out of a nightmare. You feel a sudden surge of energy—hot and thick, like molten lava—coursing through your veins. It’s overwhelming, and before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, your hands begin to glow brighter, the orange light intensifying until it’s almost blinding.

“Whoa—what the—?” you murmur, staring at your fists in shock as they burn with an intense, fiery orange, like heated iron.

Logan should be scared. You clearly have no idea what this is or what you could do with it. Yet, he doesn’t back down; instead, he presses onward. “Stay focused!”

But the energy in your hands is overwhelming, a burning heat that demands release. You feel it building, pushing you to the edge of what you can handle, and by impulse, you swing at him, aiming for his midsection with all your might.

The moment your fist connects with his stomach, the world seems to slow down. The sensation is surreal—you can feel your hand sink into his flesh, the resistance giving way as if his body were made of butter. Heat radiates from your fist, searing through his skin and muscle with an intensity that you’ve never felt before. To your absolute horror, your glowing hand doesn’t stop; it punches right through him, emerging out the other side.

For a second, everything is silent. The world holds its breath as the shock of what you’ve just done paralyzes you. Your breath catches in your throat, a suffocating lump of panic rising as you stare in disbelief at the sight before you. The feeling of your hand inside him, of flesh parting and melting, is too much, too wrong.

Then, the silence shatters as you scream, the sound raw and filled with terror. You jerk your hand back, nearly stumbling as you pull away, eyes wide. Logan stumbles too, his usually steady form momentarily thrown off balance. His shirt smokes from the burn, a charred hole marking where your hand had been. The smell of burnt fabric and flesh hits you, making your stomach twist in nauseous fear.

“Oh my God, Logan!” you cry out, “I—I didn’t mean to—”

But to your surprise, he doesn’t collapse. Instead, he looks down at the gaping hole in his stomach, then back at you, his expression more impressed than anything.

“Knifey,” he grunts, sounding almost amused despite the situation, “that was one hell of a punch.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as the glow fades from your hands. “Are you—are you okay? I just burned a hole through you!”

He chuckles, though the sound is definitely a bit strained. “A little hot under the collar, maybe, but I’ve had worse.” He winces slightly as his skin begins to knit back together, healing rapidly thanks to his mutant ability. “Don’t worry, this’ll close up in no time. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”

“But I… I could have killed you.”

“Nah,” Logan says, waving off your concern. “You’re not the first person to try and fail. Besides, I’m more impressed that you’ve got that in you.” He glances at his now-healed stomach, then back at you with a smirk. “Just maybe aim a little better next time, yeah?”

----

You’re fucking exhausted. He really put you through the ringer—pushing you further than you’ve ever been pushed before. Your muscles ache, your skin is slick with sweat, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. Logan, on the other hand, seems barely winded, though even he has a sheen of sweat on his brow, and a gaping hole in his shirt.

Your hands are on your knees as you bend over and try to slow your breathing. “You… really don’t… know when to quit, do you?” you manage to gasp out between breaths.

“Well, you’re not gonna drop dead on me, are you?” He shoots back, not caring at all about your current state.

Shaking your head, too tired to come up with a snarky retort, you barely respond. “Not yet,” you mutter, trying to rub some life back into your aching limbs.

“Good. Now come on,” Logan says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “We’ve got a job to do.”

He steps away, heading back toward the warehouse, and you force yourself to follow, your legs heavy and protesting with every step. He moves with purpose, heading straight to a small table tucked in one corner, where a map lies spread out, weighed down by a few random items—a knife here, an old mug there. Not wasting any time, he leans over the map and traces a finger across several locations marked in red.

“Look,” he says, not bothering to wait for you to catch up. You step closer, peering over his shoulder at the map.

“We’re here,” he begins, pointing to a spot on the map that corresponds with your current location. “Your last few mutant encounters were in these areas.” He taps on the cluster of red dots. “We’re gonna hit these spots, see if we can find any leads on where they’re comin’ from.”

“Okay…” You follow.

He stares at the pages for a brief moment longer, before looking up at you with a small smirk, like he know’s hes next words are going to piss you off.

"Change of plans by the way. I’ll go on the roof, and you’ll stay on the ground. That way, the mutants will be able to find you."

You blink at him, your expression shifting from frustration to disbelief. "Pause. You’re using me as bait?"

"Yeah. Works better if they’re lured in by something they’re actually interested in." His smirk widens into a full-blown grin, the kind that shows he’s fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds but doesn’t care.

"Oh, great. So I’m just a distraction for you now? What happened to teamwork?"

Logan just shrugs nonchalantly in response, as if this is the most logical plan in the world, . "We’re still teamin’ up," he replies, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Just taking a different approach. Besides, you’ve shown that you can handle them," he adds, mocking your voice in a poorly done imitation, “26 kills, remember?’"

You narrow your eyes at him, now fully facing him and glaring daggers in his direction. "Handle them?" you echo, "What if I don’t want to be used as bait for some dangerous plan? I thought we were supposed to be on the same side here."

"It’s not like I’m asking you to walk into a death trap, bub. It’s just a way to flush them out. I’ll be right above, ready to help if things get too hairy."

"Yeah, that’s real reassuring," you snap back, "what’s next? Are you going to throw me into a pit of mutants and hope I manage to climb out?"

"I wish," he retorts, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you just keep your mouth shut. The idea of being dangled out like a worm on a hook doesn't sit well with you, but arguing with Logan has proven to be as effective as punching a brick wall. Your muscles are screaming for rest, and your mind is a whirlpool of fatigue and annoyance.

"God damnit. Fine," you concede reluctantly, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the lingering soreness. "But if this goes south, it’s on you, jackass."

“Fair enough,” he says, grabbing a worn leather jacket from the back of a nearby chair and slipping it on. The jacket strains slightly across his muscular frame, the creases and scuffs telling tales of countless past encounters.

He then shuffles toward a cluttered metal locker against the wall, pulling it open with a screech of old hinges. Inside hangs an assortment of gear: knives of various sizes, a couple of handguns, and a coiled rope. Is this even legal? You think. He grabs a sleek, compact earpiece from a small shelf and tosses it in your direction.

"Keep that on," he instructs. "We'll need to stay in contact. If you spot anything—or if anything spots you—you let me know immediately."

You examine the earpiece for a moment before fitting it snugly into your ear. A short burst of static confirms it's operational. "Got it," you reply, adjusting it until it sits comfortably.

Logan equips his own earpiece before reaching back into the locker and arming himself with a couple of vicious-looking weapons, tucking them into concealed sheaths along his belt and boots. The familiar routine seems to settle him, his movements efficient and practiced.

He catches you watching him as he methodically puts on his gear, and instead of asking if you’re armed, he pauses and reaches into the locker. With a swift swoosh he pulls out a sharp, gleaming blade.

The blade is perfectly balanced, and when he passes it to you, it fits comfortably in your hand. As you inspect it, you notice the craftsmanship—sturdy, reliable, and razor-sharp. Definitely an upgrade from your usual gear.

Guaging your reaction, his eyebrows raise in amusement. "Better than your last weapon, ya think Knifey?" he says.

You glance up at him, unable to suppress a small smile as you give the blade an experimental twirl. Giving a brief nod, you tuck the blade securely into a sheath at your side, feeling a bit more confident. He nods back in acknowledgement, and then he checks his watch. The morning is slipping away, and the streets outside will soon be bustling with people going about their day—a perfect cover for the dangers you're hunting. Folding up the map, he stuffs it into his back pocket before striding toward the exit.

----

Once you’ve entered a busier part of the city, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding buildings with a practiced eye. He turns to you, his expression all business. "We'll start over on Fifth Avenue," he says, nodding toward a maze of streets that stretch out ahead. "That's where the last sighting was reported."

You shield your eyes against the glare, following his line of sight. The streets look deceptively calm, but you know better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

"Stay alert," he commands. "Don't make yourself too obvious, but don't be too subtle either. We want to draw them out, but not scare them off."

You scoff lightly, adjusting your jacket and running a quick hand over your gear to ensure everything's in place. "So act like a clueless pedestrian but also like a tempting target. Got it."

He gives you a pointed look. "Just be yourself," he quips, before he turns away and starts toward the side of the building. Rude, you think.

You watch as he approaches the fire escape, his movements fluid and sure. After a quick glance around to ensure no one's watching, he leaps up, grabbing the bottom rung and hauling himself up with ease. Within moments, he's scaled the side of the building, disappearing onto the rooftop above.

His voice crackles to life in your ear. "You ready down there?"

Taking a deep breath, you step out onto the sidewalk, blending seamlessly into the flow of pedestrians beginning their day. "As I'll ever be," you reply, starting to walk at a casual pace down the street.

The city unfolds around you, a tapestry of sights and sounds that are at once familiar and disconcerting under the circumstances. You weave through clusters of people, your senses heightened as you scan your surroundings discreetly, looking for any sign of unusual activity. Above, you catch fleeting glimpses of Logan moving along the rooftops, his silhouette a shadow among shadows as he keeps pace with you. Minutes tick by as you make your way toward the target street, each step measured, each glance calculated. The morning bustle grows thicker, and the air fills with the scents of street food vendors setting up shop and the distant rumble of construction work.

"Anything?" His voice buzzes softly in your ear.

You shake your head slightly, replying under your breath to avoid drawing attention. "Nothing yet. Just the usual morning rush."

"Keep moving. They could be anywhere."

You continue on, turning onto Fifth Avenue, and as you pass by a narrow alleyway, a prickle of unease runs down your spine. You pause briefly, casting a casual glance down the shadowed corridor. It's empty, littered with discarded boxes and a stray shopping cart, but something about it feels off.

"Logan, you see anything unusual around here?" you murmur, pretending to adjust your earpiece like they’re earbuds.

There's a fleeting silence before he responds. "Hold on." You look up subtly, catching sight of him perched on the edge of a building, his eyes scanning the area with predator-like focus.

After a moment, his voice comes through again, lower and edged with caution. "There's a van parked two blocks down that doesn't seem to fit. Tinted windows, no plates."

You resume walking, heading in that direction while trying keeping your demeanor relaxed. "Could just be someone avoiding parking tickets," you suggest, though your instincts tell you otherwise.

"Shut up," Logan replies with zero hesitation, calling your bluff. "Stay sharp."

Approaching the intersection, you spot the van he's referring to. It's an unmarked, nondescript vehicle that seems deliberately inconspicuous—a little too inconspicuous for this part of town. Slowing down your pace slightly, you pretend to window-shop as you try to take in more details. The engine is off, but you can make out faint movement behind the tinted glass. "Definitely something going on there," you whisper, angling your body to keep the van in your peripheral vision. "Think it’s our guys?"

"Could be," Logan responds tersely. "Keep walking. Let's see if they follow."

Doing as instructed, you walk past the van and cross the street, risking another glance back. The van's engine has started, its headlights flicking on as it pulls out into traffic, maintaining a slow but steady distance behind you.

"Yup, they're following me," you report.

"Good. Lead them toward the park ahead. Fewer civilians there."

You spot the small urban park a few blocks down—a patch of green amid the concrete jungle, dotted with benches and sparse morning joggers. "On it," you confirm, quickening your pace just enough to be noticeable without raising suspicion.

The crowds thin out as you near the park entrance. Behind you, the van slows to a stop along the curb, and you can feel eyes boring into your back. "Logan, they're stopping," you inform him, subtly scanning your surroundings for any immediate threats.

"I see them," he says. "Three guys getting out. Can't get a clear look from here. Keep moving forward. I'll get into position."

You carry on down the path, resisting the urge to look back. Your senses are on high alert now, adrenaline surging through your veins and washing away the remnants of your earlier exhaustion. Footsteps echo behind you—heavy, purposeful strides that are too close and too focused to belong to casual park-goers, and you catch a glimpse of their reflections in a nearby puddle: three men dressed in dark clothing, their faces obscured by caps and sunglasses.

"Closer than I'd like," you mutter under your breath.

"Just a little further," Logan assures you. "There's a clearing up ahead. Better visibility."

A grassy open space surrounded by trees, currently deserted, comes into view just as he footsteps behind you quicken, closing the distance rapidly. You stop in the center, turning slowly to face them, and although you’re positively shitting bricks, you try to stay composed.

The three men fan out in a semi-circle around you, their postures aggressive and eyes cold. "Well, well, what do we have here?" the one you think is the leader sneers, his voice oily and mocking. "Out for a morning stroll all alone?"

You force a casual shrug. "Just enjoying the fresh air. Is that a crime now?"

He chuckles darkly, taking a step closer. "Depends on who's asking. You look a little lost. Maybe we can help you find your way."

Your hand inches toward your concealed blade, fingers itching for reassurance. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm good," you reply evenly, eyes darting between the three men as you gauge their intentions.

"Don't think you understand," another one pipes up, his voice harsher, more eager. "We insist."

Before you can respond, the leader's eyes flash with a sudden, green glow, and you feel a sharp, invisible force slam into your chest, knocking you back a few steps. You grit your teeth against the pain, steadying yourself quickly.

"I think now would be a great time to do something," you murmur urgently into the earpiece, your fingers closing around the grip of your weapon.

"On my way," Logan’s voice comes through, and you can hear his breathing as he jumps through buildings.

The men advance, confidence oozing from their stances as they prepare to strike again. You draw your weapon in defence, not waiting for them to make another move. "Back off," you warn.

He laughs, a grating sound that echoes through the clearing. "Or what? You gonna stab me? Go ahead, try."

Challenge accepted. You aim the blade, and hurl it towards him. The target is on point, but inches before impact, it stops mid-air, falling harmlessly to the ground as the leader smirks, his powers deflecting the attack effortlessly.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," he taunts, his hands glowing with a sinister energy as he prepares to strike again.

Then, a feral roar cuts through the air, and Logan drops from the trees above like a force of nature, landing directly on top of one of the men and driving him into the ground with bone-crushing force. Claws out and eyes blazing, he wastes no time, slashing at the second man who barely manages to leap back in time, a gash opening up across his chest.

The leader's smug expression falters as he takes in the sudden turn of events. "Who the hell is this?" he snarls, recoiling slightly as Logan stands between you and the attackers, his presence an unyielding wall of defense.

"You don’t want to find out" he growls, his voice menacing.

The other two mutants, momentarily stunned by the Wolverine’s sudden appearance, quickly regain their composure. The first one charges, his hands crackling with energy. But Logan is faster—much faster. He sidesteps the attack with grace, then drives his claws into the mutant's side, a deep, brutal strike that leaves the man gasping and crumpling to the ground.

The second mutant, seeing his comrade fall, hesitates for a split second before launching himself at you, clearly deciding that you're the easier target. Except you’re not. As he closes in, you speedily side step around him, a blur of motion as you reach for the blade on the ground.

Once it’s in your grasp, you pivot around, and slash upward, slicing through his clothing, biting into his flesh. He lets out a strangled cry, stumbling back as blood blooms across his shirt.

"Think again," you snap, your voice cold and sharp, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You press the attack, your blade a barely visible with the speed at which you wield it as you force him back, not giving him a chance to recover. The leader, seeing his subordinates falling one by one, finally shakes off his shock and focuses his eyes at you. With a snarl, he raises his hands, the air around them shimmering. He thrusts his hands forward, sending a pulse of raw power hurtling toward you.

Feeling your power surge through your veins, heating your blood, your hands begin to glow with that familiar fiery light, the same power that burnt a hole right through Logan earlier that day. You meet the leader’s attack head-on, your fist colliding with the ball of energy. The force of the impact sends shockwaves through the air, and makes you grimace, but you hold your ground, refusing to be pushed back.

The mutant’s eyes widen in disbelief as he watches you deflect his attack. His confidence wavers, replaced by a creeping fear. "This wasn’t part of the plan," he mutters, staggering back as he desperately tries to summon more power.

"Don’t care," you retort, slowly stalking closer and closer. He tries to make a run for it, but you catch up to him easily, grabbing his arm, causing him to scream in agony as the heat sears through his flesh.

Logan, upon discarding his now lifeless victim, approaches the leader in an instant. He grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly with one hand. The mutant struggles weakly, his energy spent, his body trembling from the burns and the wounds inflicted by your hands.

"You picked the wrong target," Wolverine growls, his voice a lethal whisper. He tightens his grip, his claws hovering dangerously close to the leader’s throat. "Who sent you?"

The leader gasps for air, his eyes wild with panic as he looks between you and Logan. "We were… sent to attack… ," he stammers. "Mind control… we were forced to…"

Your heart skips a beat as his words sink in. It’s confirmed: mind control. These mutants weren’t acting on their own—they were being manipulated, turned into weapons against you. "Who’s controlling you?" you demand, stepping closer, your hand still glowing with residual energy.

His lips part, as if he’s about to speak, but then his entire body seizes up. His eyes widen in terror, and you think he might be having a seizure. He tries to speak–to move his mouth, but no sound comes out, his expression contorting as he struggles against some invisible force.

"Oh God, something’s wrong," you say, glancing at him with concern.

Logan lowers him to the ground, and crouches beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly. "What the hell is going on?" he growls, but the mutant can only gasp, his eyes rolling back as if in agony.

You can see the panic in the man’s eyes as he fights against whatever is controlling him. It’s clear that he wants to tell you something, but he’s physically unable to do so. The mind control is stopping him, choking off his words before he can get them out.

Desperation drives you to act. You drop to your knees beside the mutant, gripping his other shoulder. "You need to tell us where they are," you insist, your voice urgent. "Give us a clue—anything."

His body shakes, his teeth grinding together as he forces out a single, strained word. "T… tunnel…" he gasps, his face turning a ghastly shade of white. "Underground…"

But before he can finish, his body convulses violently, as if an electric shock is coursing through him. His mouth opens in a silent scream, his eyes wide with terror. Blood begins to trickle from his nose, his body seizing uncontrollably. You and Logan can only watch in horror as the man's life is snuffed out right before your eyes. His head snaps back, and just like that, his body goes limp, collapsing to the ground with a final, sickening thud.

Logan bends down to check his pulse, but you already know the answer by the grim expression that settles over his face. "He's dead," he says flatly, wiping his hands on his pants as he stands back up.

You stare down at the lifeless body, your heart pounding in your chest. "Damn it," you mutter under your breath. Whoever was controlling him clearly didn’t want him to reveal anything more. "They got to him."

Logan clenches his fists, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Looks like they’ve got failsafes in place. This wasn’t just a fluke."

"So now not only are we dealing with a puppet master, we’re dealing with a psycho fries people’s brains if they talk. Fantastic."

He shoots you a look. "You done complaining? Because we’ve still got shit to do."

"Complaining? I’m just pointing out that our situation sucks, Logan." You glare back at him.

He shrugs, clearly unbothered. "Yeah, well, whining about it won’t get us anywhere. We need to find another way to track down whoever’s behind this."

You’re about to snap back when your eyes catch on the van still idling at the edge of the park. "The van," you say, your tone shifting from irritation to sudden realization. "Think we can track it back to whoever sent them?"

Following your gaze, his expression softens slightly as he considers the idea. "Maybe. If we’re lucky, they didn’t wipe the GPS data. Could give us a clue where these bastards came from."

You let out a huff, trying to ignore the slight sense of relief that Logan actually liked your idea. "Well, let’s hope they’re not as smart as they think they are."

You reach the van and climb inside, the smell of sweat and metal thick in the air. The dashboard is cluttered with tech—nothing too advanced, but enough to suggest this van has been modified for more than just transport. A laptop is mounted to the dash, screens dim but flickering to life as you settle into the passenger seat.

He slides into the driver’s seat, turning the key and bringing the engine to life. "Let’s get this thing back to the warehouse," he says, "We’ll see what we can pull from the system. Might give us something solid to go on."

Not waiting for anything else, he just shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb, keeping his eyes on the road as he maneuvers through the narrow streets.

----

Back at his place, Logan grabs the laptop and other tech from the van, motioning for you to follow him as he heads to a makeshift workstation near the back of the warehouse. The setup is basic but functional—tools, weapons, and old electronics.

Following him, you can still feel the adrenaline from earlier buzzing through your system. He sets the laptop down, and powers it up. The screen flickers to life, and he starts navigating through the van’s GPS system. "You think they’ll be expecting us to track them?" you ask, leaning against the edge of the workbench.

All you get in response is a grunt, his eyes never leaving the screen. "They’re not idiots. They’ve probably figured out we’d try to follow the trail. That’s why we’ve gotta be smart about this."

The screen fills with maps, coordinates, and location markers. Logan hones in on one spot just outside the city—a cluster of old industrial buildings with access to underground tunnels. He taps the screen, highlighting the location. "This is where the van’s been going. It’s our best lead."

You study the location, a sense of unease creeping in. "So, what’s the plan? We just storm in?"

He shakes his head, leaning back slightly as he thinks it through. "No. If we go in too soon, they’ll be ready for us. We need to play this smart—wait a couple of days, let them think we’re not doin’ shit.”

Recognizing the wisdom in his approach, you nod. "Alright, but what do we do in the meantime? Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs?"

"We keep an eye on the place, see if there’s any movement. We prep, we rest, and when the time comes, we hit them with everything we’ve got. We’ll be bunking here for a few days.”

You look around the warehouse. In a day, this place has gone from some ugly dump to your new safe haven. Great.

Logan moves to secure the van, checking the locks and making sure everything’s in place. As he does, he glances over at you, almost as if he can hear your thoughts. "You’re lucky you’ve got a bed—my bed," he emphasizes.

You shoot him a teasing look. "Hey, you offered. I would’ve taken the couch… but don’t offer that now because I’ve decided I like the bed."

With the van in place, the clawed mutant moves toward the small kitchen area tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. You watch him curiously, wondering what he’s up to. He pulls out a few ingredients from the pantry, setting them on the counter with practiced ease.

"Figured you might be hungry," he grunts, opening a few cabinets and pulling out some pots and pans.

"You cook?"

He tips his head back just enough to catch your eye. "Yeah, I cook. What, you think I survive on just beer and grumpy stares?"

"Wouldn’t be too far off," you snicker, leaning against the counter as he starts chopping vegetables..

"Sit down. This’ll be done in a bit," he says, focusing on his task.

You do as he says, settling onto a nearby stool and watching as Logan moves around the kitchen with surprising skill. He’s making pasta—something simple but hearty. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan soon fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh tomatoes and herbs. It’s strange to see him like this, in such a domestic setting, but you can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing.

"Didn’t peg you as the culinary type," you comment, unable to resist.

"You pick up a few things when you’ve been around as long as I have” he says, tossing the vegetables into the pan with a flick of his wrist.

When the meal is ready, Logan plates up the pasta and hands you a bowl. The aroma is mouthwatering, and you dig in eagerly, surprised by just how good it is. The two of you eat in companionable silence, the tension from earlier easing as you enjoy the food. You watch him for a moment, the normalcy of it all striking you once more. It’s a side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but one that makes you appreciate the depth of the man behind the gruff exterior.

As the night falls, Logan heads to his makeshift bed in the corner of the warehouse, while you make your way to the bed he begrudgingly gave up.

"You sure you’re okay with the couch?" you ask, more out of habit than anything else.

Logan shoots you a look, already half-lying down. "You’re the one who wanted the bed, remember? Just get some sleep.”

You smirk at his gruffness, knowing now that it’s just his way.

----

The next few days in the warehouse pass in a strange, almost surreal calm. The constant adrenaline of your life as of late takes a backseat as you and Logan settle into a routine that feels more like a bizarre kind of roommate situation than anything else.

Each morning, you wake to the sound of Logan already up and moving, the metallic clang of his claws as he practices in the open space of the warehouse. You join him for training, and though the sessions are intense, they lack that certain edge of urgency. It’s like you’re both conserving your energy for the fight to come, knowing that the real battle is just on the horizon.

"You’re still dropping your left shoulder," he points out one morning as you spar, his claws swinging.

You huff, blocking his strike with your blade. "And you’re still grumbling like an old man."

He rolls his eyes, dodging your next attack with a quick sidestep. "That’s because I am an old man, Knifey. What’s your excuse?"

"Just trying to keep up with you, gramps." You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you press the attack.

In the afternoons, after you’ve both worn yourselves out with training, you’d find yourselves sitting on the edge of the raised platform that serves as Logan’s makeshift living area. The warehouse is quiet, the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of metal settling in the walls. It’s in these moments of stillness that you start to learn more about Logan—not the Wolverine, the fierce, unrelenting fighter—but Logan, the man behind the claws.

He doesn’t talk much about his past; it’s clear that there are parts of it he prefers to keep buried. But every now and then, something slips out—a story, a memory, a glimpse into the man he used to be before everything went to hell.

One specific day stands out. The two of you are sitting side by side on the edge of the platform, the remains of a quick meal scattered around you. Logan is unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on his retracted claws as his hands rest on his knees. His usual tough exterior seems to soften, just for a moment, and you can sense that something’s weighing on him.

"You ever wonder what it would’ve been like… if things had gone differently?" you ask, breaking the silence. The question is vague, open-ended, but you know he’ll understand.

His expression darkens slightly, but he doesn’t look away from his hands. "Yeah," he says after a long pause, his voice rougher than usual. "Sometimes. But thinking about it too much… it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it easier."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Weapon X… they really did a number on you, didn’t they?"

He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and what you see in his eyes is old pain and hard-earned resilience. "Yeah," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of years of suffering. "They did. Turned me into a weapon. Made me forget who I was… who I wanted to be."

He pauses, the memories clearly painful to revisit. "They didn’t just mess with my body," he continues bitterly. "They messed with my mind. Took away my memories, twisted what was left until I didn’t even know my own name. I was nothing but a tool to them, somethin’ they could use and discard when they were done."

The brutal honesty in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but feel anger on his behalf. "But you fought back," you say softly, more a statement than a question.

Logan nods. "They tried to break me, and for a while, they did. I was just… lost. But they didn’t count on me fighting back. Didn’t count on me surviving."

"They underestimated you," you say, listening intently, feeling a deep respect for the strength it must have taken for him to claw his way back from that darkness.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth, and for a moment, you see a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he says, a little lighter now. "A lot of people have."

There’s a fleeting pause, his words settling between you. It’s heavy, but you’re seeing a side of Logan that few people ever get to see, and you can tell that it’s not easy for him to open up like this.

Then, almost as if sensing the need to shift the mood, Logan changes the subject, leaning back on his hands as he starts to tell you about some of the more absurd things he’s witnessed over the years. "You wouldn’t believe some of the crap I’ve been through," he says, his voice taking on a dry, almost amused tone.

He launches into a story that’s so ridiculous, so utterly bizarre, that you can’t help but laugh—really laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages. The way he tells it, with that deadpan delivery and his signature gruffness, only makes it funnier.

"You’ve really seen it all, haven’t you?" you say, shaking your head in disbelief after one particularly outrageous tale involving a mutant with the ability to turn into a giant bird. "Seriously, how do you even get into these situations?"

Logan shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "It’s just another day in the life, Knifey. Weird shit happens when you’ve lived as long as I have."

His words linger in the air, and suddenly, a realization dawns on you. You’ve been so focused on the immediate dangers, the fights, and the missions that you haven’t fully processed what it means to be a mutant, to have regenerative abilities like Logan’s. If you can heal from almost any wound, if your body can recover from injuries that would kill anyone else… does that mean you’re going to live as long as he has? Decades, maybe centuries? The thought hits you like a freight train.

"Oh shit, Logan," you blurt out. "Am I going to be around as long as you? I regenerate too!"

Immediately noticing the change in your demeanor, his sharp eyes lock onto yours. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to steady you. "Breathe."

But it’s like a dam has burst inside your mind, the implications of what you’ve just realized flooding in all at once. "Logan, if I have these abilities… I’ll outlive everyone I know, everyone I care about…"

Your thoughts begin to spiral, the fear and uncertainty taking root, and suddenly the idea of immortality—something you’d never seriously considered before—feels more like a curse than a gift. You’re faced with the prospect of endless years, of watching everyone you love age and die while you remain unchanged.

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightens, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that brooks no argument. "Look at me," he says, and when you meet his gaze, the intensity there makes you freeze. "I know what you’re thinkin’, and yeah, it’s scary as hell. But you gotta keep it together. You’re not alone in this."

"But how do you deal with it?" you ask.

He’s quiet for a moment, his expression hard as he wrestles with the weight of your question. When he speaks, his voice is deep, almost a growl.

"It ain’t easy," he admits, his tone roughened by years of pain. "There are days when it feels like too damn much. But you take it one day at a time. You focus on the people who matter, on what you can do right now. ‘Cause that’s all any of us really got, no matter how long we’re around."

His words are meant to comfort, but the enormity of what he’s saying still feels overwhelming. "And when everyone’s gone?" you whisper, the thought of outliving everyone you love already eating you from the inside out. "What happens then?"

Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, Logan’s eyes hardening with a resolve that you can almost feel. "You keep goin’," he says gravelly.

"You keep fightin’ ‘cause that’s what you do. You find new people to care about, new reasons to get up in the morning. The world keeps turning, and there’s always somethin’ worth fighting for. The people you lose, they wouldn’t want you givin’ up."

The conviction in his voice, the sheer will to survive, even after everything he’s been through, gives you something to hold onto. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the fear still lingers. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

He meets your gaze. "You are," he says. "You’re tougher than you think. And you’re not doin’ this alone. I ain’t dying anytime soon.”

You nod slowly. "Yeah… we’ve got each other."

His hand moves from your shoulder to your back, giving you a firm pat, like he’s trying to physically drive the point home. "Damn right we do. And don’t go worryin’ ‘bout the future. One day at a time, got it?"

You manage a smile, the first real one you’ve felt in what seems like forever. "Got it," you whisper, feeling a sense of calm starting to settle in.

Logan seems satisfied with that. He’s about to say something else when he stops, gaping. He just stares at you, his usual tough-guy demeanor slipping for a second as he takes in the sight of you smiling—really smiling, something he probably hasn’t seen much of.

The words die on his lips, and for a moment, he looks almost… caught off guard. His eyes are fixed on you, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t noticed before, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"What?" you ask.

Logan blinks, shaking his head slightly as if snapping out of a daze. He clears his throat, quickly looking away, his gruffness returning like a shield. "Nothin’," he mutters. "Just… you’ve got a nice smile, that’s all."

You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The way he said it, so simple yet so sincere, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

"Well, don’t get used to it," you quip. "I’m sure you’ll piss me off again soon enough."

Logan huffs out a laugh, shooting you a sideways glance, his lips quirking into a small smirk. "Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less."

----

A/N: The plot is really going to pick up from here on out!

----

TFM Taglist:

@wildefire @aliisa-jones @maximumchilddreamland @peony-always

@newromantics98 @ayamenimthiriel @fandomsunited @britttzy267

@mainly-me @icantevendood @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @d3kstar

@im-a-wh0r3 @lunaticgurly @xlocalxpunkx @yjck121

apologies if the tags don't work!

Comment to be added

#logan howlett #logan howlett fic #deadpool and wolverine #logan x reader #wolverine #x men #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #hugh jackman #x men movies #mcu #mcu fanfiction #d1:tfm

693 notes · View notes

kesadoll · 3 months ago

Text

♡ CWS MDNI 1.1k wrds blackfem!reader, exhusband!reiner, HES BLUE COLLARRR with an accent teehee, kinda tipsy y/n, face♡ riding, d♡ ggy, to say he missed you was an understatement, ꒰petnames: pumpkin, baby, good girl┆︎she calls him ♡ rei ♡꒱꒰his voice꒱

♡ sum you accidentally drunk call your ex-husband who's still madly in love with you... rewrote my original idea in like an hour :p

having your ex-husband reiner banging on your front door at 4 in the morning, let alone him now with his face buried in your pussy was not something you expected.

“i missed y’so fuckin’ much..” he groaned from beneath you, the vibrations from his voice sending chills from the base of your spine up to your neck.

see, you and reiner had been divorced for 2 years, going on a single year with no physical contact, and that was a LOT considering how the two of you wouldn’t let up off each other. reiner would ALWAYS find some excuse or way to be at the house (that he gave to you while he lives in an apartment down the street), and you allowed it every single time. “r-reii-ohmygod~” you cried out, trying to keep your thighs from crushing the poor man’s skull. his eyes never left your body, watching the way that your stomach tensed and dropped with every rough lap of his tongue on your clit. oh and how his near white-blonde stubble, which was so much lighter because of you, rubbed against your inner thighs. it drove you mad, and he loved it.

even when you tried to lift your hips back up after your second going on third orgasm, his rough hands met your hips to hold you still, knowing if you didn’t say the safe word you really didn’t want him to stop. all you could do was grip onto his hair that was already starting to curl back up from the combination of your slick and the fact that he made a beeline straight from the site to come see about you.

that little ‘accidental’ phone call you made hours before just to hear his voice is what led you here, and god, was it worth it. your fate was only cemented when he saw you standing there in his old work shirt with nothing underneath. before you knew it, you were lifted off his mouth and laid on your stomach, not able to help the whine that escaped your lips at the lack of warmth on your cunt. you were so gone already that you hadn’t noticed how quick his clothes came off and that condom was rolled on, only coming back to it when you felt his meaty tip rubbing at your cunt, reveling in your essence.

“wish you c’see how you look, baby.” he purred to you, his slick bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched as your clit jumped at his words. his hands moved to the fat of your hips, watching intently as he pulled you down onto him, your cunt sucking him in. “shit-”

“mmhmmm~” you slurred out helplessly. your gummy walls welcomed your ex-husband with a need you never knew you had in you before. you knew reiner needed you just as badly, especially with the way his hazel eyes peered through those sweet lashes of his.

reiner was FAR from a submissive man, but the way his cheeks would flush pink and the noises that would escape from his lips? you knew how to make that man sick.

you arched your back so deep, reaching an arm behind you to hold onto reiner’s thigh. “pumpkin’- wai-” he sighed, his eyes shooting to the back of his head while you began to bounce back against him. “you jus’ gon’ fuck me like that?”

with your head turned to the side, you bat your eyelashes, your puffy lips curling into a smile, “m-mhm~ m-mished my h-husband.”

reiner didn’t bat an eye. the sounds that were coming from between the both of you and the reclaiming of him being your husband had him in the clouds. any of that southern hospitality he had left in him was slipping away, and you could tell with how he began to move his hips to meet your ass.

“i needed my pumpkin’..s-so bad.” he sighed, his hand sliding up from the base of your spine, finding solace on your shoulder. you braced yourself, watching out the corner of your eye as reiner wound his hips back, pushing them forward just as quick.

the momentum had your eyes rolling, your tears hitting your cheeks mainly because his dick was hitting that sweet spongey spot while also being so deep you thought his tip would touch your ribcage. your legs began to slide from beneath you due to the sheer force of his thrusts alone, but reiner scooped your hips up with his other hand.

“nononono, don’t move f’me stay right there..right there right there,” reiner chanted, more to himself than to you. he’d only fucked his poor hand for the year the two of you hadn’t been intimate, and he was dangerously close already. if it wasn’t for his chanting, you would’ve thought so from the way his hips already began to stagger, and you were right there with him.

the words didn’t even get to leave your mouth before those deep breaths started to hit you, followed by the clenching of your cunt with every moan. it only made reiner lean over on top of you, his face buried into your neck. “give it to me, baby.” his hips ground down into you with such depravity your ears ran hot.

you were reduced to a nod that you were barely able to do, let alone muster up what energy you had left to tell him you were already about to cum. reiner planted kisses along your shoulder leading up to your neck, watching how you writhed beneath him, sending you over the edge when he muttered praises in your ear. “sssuch a good girl.”

the nastiness in his voice didn’t stop after he came. the way you were feeling, you were barely able to ride out the orgasm, reiner having to hold you back onto him as he continued his thrusts. the sound of your whines and the way your pussy sucked him up had him cumming right after you, his hips staggering more than they already were.

after some time, he pulled back, laying next to you on his back with his chest heaving and all. your sweet giggles cut between pants as you finally lifted your head to look at him, the bottom of your fro sticking to the back of your neck. “if i knew this would happen cus’ i drunk-called you, i would’ve done it already.”

reiner gave you a cheesy smile, nodding as he lifted a hand to rub what was left of your tears off of your cheek. “did y’mean whatcha said?”

“when i said i missed my husband?” you tilted your head, and he nodded again, half expecting you to say it was just in the heat of the moment. what he really didn’t expect was for you to crawl over on top of him, pulling off his condom in the process. the sight of you and the way your ass pushed up against him had him hardening already, your sweet words only making it all the better.

“i did n’ i wanna show him just how much more i need him.”

orignal works by me ♡ reblogs welcome, do not steal/recreate.. sidepiece!eren..

#kesadoll #d1 delulu #enjoy ♡#reiner x black reader #reiner braun #aot reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner smut #aot x reader #attack on titan #aot smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x you #♡♡♡♡

640 notes · View notes

yuutasprincess · 2 years ago

Text

Day 1: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, primal play, Yuuta's sweet but also male manipulating you

The doors are locked, of course they are- every night you make sure to twist the knob. You hold your breath, making sure the faint noise from your phone is muted and all that exists within the house is the sound of your heart pumping in your chest.

There’s a pause, silence. The door is locked, nothing is inside the house except you.

Outside, the street lamps cast their glow across the deserted yard, blocking any view of the desolate neighborhood. There's no one in sight, and the only sounds are the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the periodic rustling of leaves. It's a typical night, with the neighborhood slowly succumbing to darkness as the clock strikes 10. Curtains are drawn, windows are sealed shut, and doors are locked to keep whatever resides out.

Inside the house his shoulders sag. Back pressed to the locked door, how he got inside is no one’s business but his. He stays still for a frozen moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the dark as he watches shadows dance.

No one is outside. The man has found his home for the night.

Yuuta stands tall, lips sealed, he simply watches, taking in all the details of your home: the unfolded blankets on the couch, dishes drying in the sink, and the pair of shoes carelessly tossed by the entrance where he now stands. He thinks it’s a lovely home, he’s never been inside. His chest swells with an odd sense of contentment as he continues to stand motionless, he is inside your house.

The grip of paranoia keeps you awake, your body tightly tucked under the blankets, phone clutched to your chest. Your eyes refuse to shut, and you anxiously await the appearance of a ghost in the doorway. You tell yourself it's just your imagination, but then you hear it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Then it’s rushed footsteps, heavy, pounding footsteps and the sound of someone crashing into your walls and shaking the house. You swallow your fear and force yourself out of bed, stumbling into the closet and grasping anything that could be used as a weapon.

He can’t contain himself any longer, his cheeks round and lips pulled as he smiles while marching up your stairs. Yuuta’s far from discreet, his ragged breaths and the slam of your bedroom door echoing, the weight of the doorknob creating a hole in the wall from the force. He’s practically panting in the doorway, hair clinging to his forehead, he raises a thumb to the corner of his tilted lips.

“Anyone home?”

He laughs to himself, flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes unsettling as he makes his way to your bed. He flings the blankets aside, crawling onto the warm spot where your body lay just moments ago, its imprint still visible in the mattress.

"I know you're here," Yuuta whispers into the oppressive silence of the room. He digs his face into your pillows, fingers gripping the material as he sniffs loudly. It's disgusting, the way his eyes roll into his skull and how his hips stutter into your bed at your smell.

The only thing keeping you from screaming is the hand you’ve slapped over your mouth, fingers curling into the skin of your cheek as you watch with bated breath. He makes a mess of your bed, tossing your blankets to the floor and rising with a heavy thud as he runs his hands through his hair. You think you might get to laugh about this in a couple years when telling the story, some creep who broke in but didn’t do anything except lay in your bed.

With knees tucked to your chest you watch him move around the space, fingers tapped rhythmically against various surfaces as he avoids the closet. Your own trembling fingers hover over your phone, help on speed dial, while you clench your teeth, jaw tight, trying to suppress your tears.

Then, silence.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled out of the closet, leaving your phone behind, as his hand firmly covers yours over your mouth. His other hand cradled the back of your head, and for a horrifying moment, you imagined him crushing your skull. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gaze at him, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, hair falling across his face.

He breathes heavy, hot air fanning your face. “There you are pretty girl,” he’s practically cooing at you while you cry.

You're terrified, not sure what he wants but not willing to let him do whatever he plans. Clawing and kicking, you fought to break free from his grasp, letting out sobs as you bolted out of the room. Your feet slid across the floor, thighs burning as you raced down the stairs, taking each step two at a time. He pursued you, eerily silent, and although you couldn't hear him, you could feel his presence, his fingers brushing against the back of your shirt, and his lunging attempts to grab you.

He follows you quietly through the house while you stumble and push things aside trying to reach the front door. Your body slamming into the wall as you cry out twisting the knob.

It’s locked. Of course it’s locked, you lock the door every night. You make sure of it.

Thoughts finally enter your mind as you try to push towards the kitchen, the rack of knives practically reassuring you. He grabs you, not too tight but effective in keeping your arms pinned to your sides. He pressed his body against yours, wedging you between him and the door, gently shushing your cries. His chin resting on your head as you pleaded with him, promising not to reveal his face, not to tell anyone, begging for your life.

He tosses you over his shoulder with ease, hands gripping the meat of your thighs as he grins over his shoulder watching you wail. “I’m not going to hurt you sweet girl, you’ll feel real good in a second.” gripping your ankles he keeps you from kicking at him, the shaky hits against his back doing little to nothing to deter him.

Laying you onto the couch he’s quick to rest his weight over you, knee between your thighs and hands keeping your arms against your head. “Cute” his nose runs up the column of your throat, inhaling your scent and licking at a sensitive spot under your jaw. His touch is dirty, goosebumps rising on your skin as he kisses at your neck and bites the skin softly, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you anxious.

Releasing his grip on you, he rises to his knees, his gaze fixed firmly upon your heaving form. “Don’t move alright? I don’t want to have to force you still.” His eyes never leave you, jaw tight while glaring through fat tears, stomach churning as you watch the way his thick fingers idly tug at his belt.

In that moment, your instincts kick into high gear—fight or flight takes over. Your body scrambles to break free, and you manage to slip your legs out from under him, delivering a hard kick to his side before bolting away. Hands grabbing ornamental decoration on the table and sending glass shattering his way. Your mind races ahead of your body as you reach for the kitchen door, hand instinctively finding the knife left on the counter. Shaky fingers gripping the heavy handle as you glance back to see him rising from the couch with a frown before you’re out the door.

In the dimly lit room, Yuuta's laughter fills the doorway. He stands there, one hand on his hip, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he casually runs his fingers through his hair. His belt dangles from his free hand as he watches you, the thrill of having you apparent in his eyes. A chase wasn't what he had in mind for tonight, but he can't resist the allure of your determination and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight, he decides to play along.

The treeline at the end of the block is a promising escape route. Your plan is to cut straight through the woods, finding your way to the main road where you can seek help. The only thing preventing you from pounding on a neighbor's door for help is the unsettling sight of those piercing blue eyes fixed upon you from your own front lawn. He's playing with you, casually biting the end of his thumb, watching you like a predator stalking its prey.

Determined, you rush into the woods, heart pounding as you leave behind any trace of him. You slow your pace to a brisk walk, inhaling the crisp air to soothe your burning lungs and alleviate the ache in your thighs. Feet numb as the lack of shoes settles into your brain, keep going- don’t stop. “Fuck. fuck!” The watery curses under your breath is all you can do to resolve the blood boiling anger you feel as you step over dirt.

To Yuuta, you’re the most darling thing he’s ever seen. The way you clutch the knife like a lifeline and attempt to muffle your breath, straining to hear his movements, is utterly endearing. He could just eat you up. He bites at the skin around his fingernails, eyes unblinking as he watches you start to speed up and waits for an opportunity to have you. As if he can wait.

In the blink of an eye, he materializes at the corner of your vision, deftly disarming you before you tumble into the unforgiving soil. The sensation of sticky leaves and portrusing roots beneath you sends a shiver down your spine, you clench your fists. “What the fuck do you want!” You try to roll over to stand but his converse nudge at your side to force you onto your back. Legs moving so his shoes are on either side of your hips while he toys with his belt.

He doesn’t answer you this time. Only pushes a thumb under the button of his pants with one hand and lets the material slip down, fingers pulling the elastic of his boxers before reaching in and pulling his leaking cock out. You don’t look. Hold your breath and turn your head with shut eyes as you choke on your own cries. Yuuta moves his shoe up to tap at your wet cheek softly, coaxing you into looking at him with the threat of a swift kick to your face. He’d never hurt you, but you don’t know that.

With watery eyes you watch him wrap his fingers around himself, the tip an angry red as he starts to slowly jack off on top of you, teeth tugging at his lower lip while he whines. Giving himself a couple of torturous pumps he teases his slit, thumbing at the pearly beads of precum before squatting down to bring it to your lips. His thumb tapping on your sealed lips before forcing you to taste him, it’s salty.

Yuuta's smile remains intact as he observes your reactions, an effortless "Good girl" slipping from his lips as you suddenly whip your head back, pulling his thumb away from your tongue. The look of infatuation in his eyes never wavers, not even when you desperately attempt to kick his feet away from your hips, or when you unleash a barrage of curses and screams until your throat burns raw. And most definitely not as you lie there, utterly helpless, with his belt securely fastened around your wrists, restricting them above your head.

Picking up the knife he knocked away from you he runs a finger over the dull end before pointing the tip at your collar. “Such a smart girl, my smart girl you really had me worried with this” dragging the knife under your night shirt he sucks his teeth and makes quick work of tearing the material to reveal your soft chest. Tossing the knife aside he falls to his knees and straddles your waist, one hand massaging your tit and other curving to fondle his heavy balls. He whines desperately over your cries, fingers pinching at your nipple until it’s hard and moving to the other one.

Goosebumps spread over your clenching stomach, body trying to sink into the ground away from his touch. “You’re so beautiful, so soft.” Yuuta's hand falls from his aching cock, fingers skimming the cold skin of your abdomen until they brush the edge of your sleep shorts to pull them down. Flipping you onto your stomach with your face in the dirt he adjusts your hips up.

Legs moving to keep yours spread as he rubs at the back of your thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the end of your spine he brushes a hand over your mound, fingers skimming your lips to feel your wetness. “Please- please” he coos at your shaky voice, hearts practically in his eyes as he sinks a finger into your heat, “I’ll give you just what you need pretty girl” Yuuta moans at your warmth, exposed cock twitching as he watches your cunt swallow his finger.

He fingers you eagerly, breath labored as he hears the way you sniffle and bite back a moan of your own. Easing another finger into your warmth his free hand rubs circles into your hip, body hunched over to continue kissing along the expanse of your back. Yuuta fights the urge to rut against your thigh, forearm tensing as he pulls his fingers away to rub at your neglected clit. Tight circles making you writhe in the dirt as he pinches at your bundle of nerves. “So pretty, keep making those noises- my pretty girl.”

Straightening up he admires you for a second, body pliable and dirt sticking to your cheek. God, he can’t get enough of you. The sound of fabric is all you can hear, heart beating quickly before a warmth hits your back. Yuuta fixes his jacket to cover your naked upper half, the chill of your skin urging him to provide you some comfort in a sick way.

Pushing your hair to the side his body rests over yours, cock smearing precum against your thigh as he presses wet kisses at your nape, “So, so good for me.” Thumbing at your puffy lips he collects your arousal on his fingers before wrapping a fist around his cock and bringing to tip to kiss your cunt.

His actions scramble your thoughts, the gentleness that he treats you with while partaking in rough actions makes your head pound. A heavy sigh leaves you when he starts to roll his hips into your cunt. He’s big. Careful as he whispers candy in your ear- his sweet girl, taking him so well. Your eyes burn with a sudden dryness as tears are unwilling to form, fuck, he feels so good inside you. Kisses searing as he rubs down your spine, his jacket and the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix keeping you warm in the dead of night.

Yuuta doesn’t even try to stop the whines bubbling in his chest, lips parted to exhale and lick at his lower lip, eye’s never leaving the way his hips meet your ass and the pretty arch he keeps your back in. It’s addictive, the way your pussy keeps sucking him back in, warm walls clenching down on him and squelching lewdly when he tries to pull out only to bully his way back in. Sweet noises leaving your lax body, hair hiding your face but he can only imagine how hot your cheek would be if he cupped your face in his palms.

“Oh- you’re so good to me, c’mere pretty girl” reaching for the knife tossed inches away he slices up, cutting the tight hold his belt had you locked in and pulls out to flip you onto your back. His jacket keeps your skin from touching the dirt as he shivers at the feeling of cold air hitting him, fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker.

The kiss is gentle, lips hovering above yours as his soaked cock rests on your stomach, hand cradling your cheek as he hums into the one sided kiss. “Please princess, one kiss and I’ll take you home,” He’s so evil, moaning deeply when you entertain him, tongue slipping into your mouth and eyes rolling until there’s a dull ache behind his lids.

Keeping good on his promise he forces himself back in his pants, hands moving to slip his jacket onto your naked form before picking you up, arms around your back and under your knees as he runs his nose against your hairline, inhaling deeply. “Let me fuck you in your own bed princess- I’ll be so good to you.”

The walk back is silent. As silent as the neighborhood. The only sound your thumping heart and racing thoughts as you let him carry you home.

#D1 is kind of rough ^^#it gets better from here promise #jjk smut #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #okkotsu yuta x reader #kintober 2023 #yuuta smut #primal play

935 notes · View notes

tsunami-of-tears · 1 year ago

Text

A Fresh Start

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 1 (Beginnings)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Azriel rescues Reader and takes her back to the Night Court.

Pairing Masterlist

Wordcount: 2.4K

Warnings: mentions of violence; kidnapping; injuries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

You first met Azriel while he was spying on the human queens in the mortal realm.

The queens had captured you from the small village in Spring where you worked as a healer and were now holding you to study your magic - attempting to harness it for themselves.

Azriel had infiltrated their dungeons and was sneaking through the lower levels when he saw you. You were curled up on the rough stone floor of the cold, dim cell.

Azriel’s shadows whispered that you were covered in injuries - all at various stages of healing where they’d beaten you and taken samples of your blood and tissue.

When Azriel scented your fae heritage, he knew he couldn’t leave you there. He didn’t care if it ruined his mission. He knew what it felt like to be caged, he couldn’t leave anyone else to that fate.

Your eyes flutter open as a tall male shrouded in shadows, approaches the iron bars. He speaks to you in a calm and deep voice, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

You nod at the male, too weak to talk.

Azriel’s shadows allow him to slip into your cell easily, and just as easily winnow you away. He scoops you up, your body so frail in his arms, and he allows his shadows to envelop you both. He transports you to the River House where Rhys and Madja are expecting you.

————

Reader

The cool wisps of darkness wrap around you, soothing your many open wounds as your cell disappears into the black. The shadows disperse and you find yourself in a charming living room. The sun streams in through the open curtains, so bright you have to cover your eyes as they adjust.

You can’t remember the last time you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin.

You lower your hands to find two fae standing before you - a tall, handsome male with black hair and an ancient healer with a kind face.

You can feel the healer’s magic pulsing towards you as your legs give out beneath you. You feel strong hands catch you and the world around you fades into nothing.

————

Azriel

Madja tuts as she examines the female. “She’s a healer. They’ve been using faebane to slow her abilities. She’s lost so much blood, it looks like they’ve been extracting it - Mother knows what they plan to do with it. Praise the Cauldron that you got her out safely.”

Azriel looks over the female’s emaciated body, covered in wounds and bruises, and asks Madja, “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, she will be. I just have to flush the last of the faebane out of her system, then her magic will do the rest.”

Azriel nods and looks up at Rhys. “I know I ruined the mission, but if they were using her blood - who knows what their plans are.”

“You disobeyed an order and revealed that their wards can be breached. You know what situation this puts us in,” Rhys sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But, this is bad news. Whatever they planned to do - I’m glad you rescued her.”

Azriel pauses, he expected to argue with his High Lord, but he didn’t expect his support.

“Come to my office and you can give me the full report. Madja will see to the female,” Rhys says, nodding at Madja as he turns and exits the room.

Azriel is torn between not wanting to leave the female on her own, and not wanting to disobey Rhys any further. Azriel doesn’t know her name, but he leaves her in Madja’s capable hands as he follows Rhys down the hall.

————

Reader

You awake to the sound of birds chirping and wind rustling through long grass. You glance around, taking in your surroundings. You recognise this place - it’s the meadow near your village.

‘How did I get here?’

A spring breeze caresses your senses, filling your nose with the scent of lilacs and fresh grass; the scent of home.

You walk through the meadow, and the grass withers and dies under each step. The shrill laughter of the human queens rings in your ears. Your heart pounds and adrenaline courses through you as you turn around, frantically searching for your captors.

With no one in sight, you sprint to the edge of the meadow where the trees will provide you with some cover.

You lean against a tall oak to catch your breath only to find it’s not real, and you fall to the floor. The illusion shatters and you’re back in your cell in the mortal realm.

You cry out, rattling the iron bars like a caged beast. You can taste your freedom on the tip of your tongue.

Feeling hopeless, you curl up against the stone wall, trying to find some warmth in the dark, damp place.

You see a figure approaching you, A winged male shrouded in shadows, reaching out his hand to you.

You crawl, trying to take hold of it but he’s too far from your reach. He slips away from you and fades away into the dark.

————

Your eyes open hesitantly and you try to make out where you are. You don’t recognise the room, but it’s not your cell.

You can’t tell if you were still among the living, or if you’d finally succumbed to your injuries and blood loss. Did you dream up the mysterious winged male? Did he save you? Or was he an angel of death sent to accompany you to the next life?

You sit up only for a splitting pain to shoot down the side of your abdomen, and a broken cry tears from your lips.

Pain. You are very much alive.

Wincing, you peel back the covers to inspect your body. Most of your wounds have healed, leaving only faint yellow-green bruises. Jagged silver scars fleck your skin as far as you can see, all various sizes. Whatever the queens did to you left a mark. Marks that your magic couldn’t heal.

A soft knock at the door grabs your attention. “Come in,” you croak, your voice hoarse with disuse. You look up as a dark stranger slowly opens the door. Your saviour.

“I heard you were awake,” he says softly.

“How long have I been out?” you ask.

“Two weeks.”

It’s a long time, but you’d been in that cell for months. Two weeks was nothing.

“Do you have any family we can contact, to let know you’re safe?”

You had no more family, they were all killed during the conflict with Hybern. There was no one to miss you so you simply shook your head at the male.

“Madja, our healer, said they’d used faebane on you to prevent your healing. She’s on her way to check on you now that you’re awake.”

“Thank you,” you say. It’s not enough, but you’re too tired to say anything more.

“I’m Azriel,” He says. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.”

Sensing you don’t want to talk, Azriel nods and exits the room as Madja enters with her supplies.

————

Madja ordered you to remain in bed for another week. She arranged for all your meals and medicines to be delivered to the room with magic. You hadn’t seen another person aside from her and Azriel since you woke, but even with the added comforts - you were feeling as confined by the bedroom as you had your cell.

By the third day, you’d had enough, so you decided to explore the house.

You get up, no longer wincing in pain thanks to Madja’s tonics, and make your way across your bedroom to the closet. You didn’t expect there to be clothes for you, but it was worth a look for something other than the silk nightgown you were currently wearing.

There wasn’t much clothing of use to you. There was a fair amount made from black leather, but nothing that seemed comfortable in your current state. You did find a robe, so you could at least cover up before potentially running into someone else.

You exit the bedroom and walk down the red stone hallway into a large open dining room.

Inside, Azriel is sitting at the table having breakfast with another male. They have the same broad leathery wings topped with great talons. This new male has longer hair, pulled back into a small bun on the back of his head.

Azriel watches you enter the room as if he knew you were coming. “You’re up,” he states bluntly.

“If I have to spend another day in that room, I will lose my mind,” you reply.

“Fair enough,” Azriel shrugs. “ Are you hungry?”

“Yes, very,” you say.

In an instant, a late plate appears on the table with a full breakfast. You take a seat next to the other male and start cutting up your food.

The male turns to you and says, “I’m Cassian by the way, I live here with Azriel. I’m Rhys’s general.”

You pause before taking a bite to ask, “Who’s Rhys?”

“You may not remember, but he greeted us when we got back here from the mortal lands,” Azriel explains. “He’s the High Lord of the Night Court.”

You look back and forth between Azriel and Cassian with wide eyes as the realisation of who they are dawns on you.

“You are… This is… Oh gods,” you exclaim.

Living in the Spring Court, you’ve heard the stories about the Lord of Night and his inner circle - none of them good. But, they certainly didn’t match the males sitting before you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the loud gurgling of your stomach growing impatient for food.

“Eat,” Cassian says, a concerned look on his face, “You must be starving.”

“You don’t have to be worried, you’re a guest here,” Azriel chimes in.

You nod and tuck into your food.

When the first bite hits your tongue you moan softly. After being fed mortal food for months, even the bland food Madja was giving you had been an improvement. But this? All etiquette was forgotten as you shovelled more and more food down.

Your magic was using a lot of energy to heal all your injuries, so you easily polished off the large plate. You noticed Cassian staring at you with a slight smirk on his face. “Something wrong?” you question.

Cassian laughs and shakes his head, “No, I just haven’t seen a female eat like that before.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Oh no, I’m impressed,” Cassian reassures you with a wink.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, laughing. ‘Typical male.’

“If you’re feeling up to it, Y/N, Rhys would like to speak to you,” Azriel states.

You look down at your attire and grimace. “May I have something else to wear?”

“Angel, I think you look great in that,” Cassian says, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him, “But we can find something else.”

————

After some searching, Azriel found a simple day dress in one of the other rooms. There was a slit on the side that showed more skin than you preferred, and the colour was not one you’d ever worn - a deep navy like the night sky.

It was still an improvement to the nightgown, so you changed and freshened up before returning to the dining room to meet Azriel and Cassian.

Cassian gave you a wolfish grin and asked, “Y/N, have you ever flown before?”

————

You were sure your screams could be heard all over Prythian as you soared through the sky in Azriel’s arms. You kept yourself tucked in close to his chest, so close you could feel the vibrations of his laugh when you screamed.

He touched down on the ground very smoothly and gently placed you on your feet. He held your hands for a moment to steady you.

Cassian landed beside you, a wide smile on his face. “Seeing someone fly for the first time will never get old,” he laughs.

You turn to follow the two males towards the manor when Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, appears in the doorway.

“I could hear screaming from the other side of Velaris,” Rhys laughs. “Nice to see you up and about, Y/N, please come inside.”

Once in his office, Rhys sits behind the large mahogany desk. You sit in the chair across from him while Cassian and Azriel stand behind you.

“Welcome to the Night Court, I must say it suits you,” Rhys says, flashing a feline grin. “I was hoping you could shed some light on what happened in the mortal realm. Any information you can provide will help us in stopping the queens. I’m a daemati, so with your permission, may I look inside your mind?”

You pause, wondering why he bothered to ask. ‘At least he’s polite about it.’ You nod and take a deep breath before allowing the High Lord into your mind.

You feel him sifting through your memories. Of years spent working in a village on the border of the Spring Court and the mortal lands, helping with war efforts. Of you being captured and the queens ordering experiments to be performed on you. From what you overheard in the dungeons, they were trying to figure out a way to use the magic to become immortal.

“Thank you, Y/N. This information will be very helpful. I also have a proposition for you. You can say no, but I believe your powers would be invaluable to my court. I’d like to offer you a permanent role here as a healer.”

“Thank you, my Lord, it’s an honour but I will have to think about it.”

“Please, call me Rhys. And of course. We can discuss the details once you’ve fully recovered. If you’re up to it, Azriel and Cassian can show you the city this afternoon.”

“I’d like that a lot, Rhys, Thank you.” You nod farewell to the High Lord, standing to face Azriel and Cassian. You give them a broad smile, “Shall we go?”

The three of you exit the manor and enter the streets of Velaris. Despite your injuries, you have a skip in your step as you walk along the winding paths. You feel oddly at ease with the two males and you can’t contain your excitement over your newfound freedom, over your fresh start.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d1 #poly!acotar #cazriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oneshot #acomaf

296 notes · View notes