#one way or another they are taken from that world only to wake in a new one

[ghostdiva]

ok so the new trailer for episode 3 just dropped. big hype. here are some theory's, notes, and observations.

also I took a lot of screenshots...

anyway here we go.

so the adventure is set to be "The Mystery of Mildenhall Manor". Now, I do think that Caine is gonna be the quest giver this time, sending the gang to find something inside the spooky, probably haunted manor.

small guess is that they gotta find Matilda, one of the ghosts haunting the manor, and trap her in a vacuum. idk why, it's literally just a hunch.

Jax also takes a moment to harass Pomni with a vacuum, which just makes me think of Luigi's Mansion.

anyway, the gang (minus Zooble) are gonna go in the manor and try to find whatever they're looking for, and either by agreement or random set of events, the gang is gonna split up, Pomni and Kinger being paired up. I don't really know if Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax stick together or not, as they're not really shown much in the trailer.

I am inclined to believe it is a set of events that separates the gang tho.

it's the one of the reasons I can think of that'd make Pomni climb on the door like that.

I mean... outside of the very spooky decorum.....

which Pomni has a pretty reasonable reaction to

btw, I fucking love Pomni's cartoon physics with the squash and stretch rubber-hose animation. it's so expressive and fun to watch.

anyway, it seems Caine is determined to have Zooble go on adventures. so he literally sits them down and tries to therapize them.

though with Caine being an AI with very little knowledge of how the human mind works, this goes predictably horribly.

I imagine Zooble tries on some level to convey to Caine the ludicrousness of their situation. stuck in a digital world getting repeatedly traumatized by meaningless adventures that seem to do more harm than good. though I get the feeling Caine would miss the point, leading Zooble to correct him, and/or get upset at him for not understanding. watching this verbal fight happen between these 2 will probably lead to us, the viewer, understanding more about Zooble.

anyway, back to the manor with this cute little guy.

look at him, he's so cute and squishable. unfortunately this guy is the only cute and squishable NPC here because Pomni and Kinger seems to really be going through it.

they're mostly poking around, opening drawers and stuff. maybe they're looking for a key to get back with the others or something? who knows.

they both probably stumble around in the dark for a bit, both figuratively and literally.

they might end up stumbling into an antagonist NPC, which is the only way I can explain some of these screenshots.

it looks to me like Kinger is facing something. I mean, He's missing an eye in the first one, smacking something with a gun in the second, and looking really worried in the third. Plus the fist 2 have similar lighting so I'm inclined to believe those 2 pics come from clips in close time frames to each other.

there's also another image that has similar lighting...

now... this may sound weird, but I think that either Pomni got Possessed somehow, or something tried to take her shape. Possession seems more feasible since we know at least 2 of the NPC's in this adventure are ghosts, and at least in media ghosts are known to possess people. seeing as digital circus seems to love pulling from video game mechanics, this wouldn't surprise me at all.

this would also kind of explain why in the "POMNI WAKE UP!! IT'S TIME TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE" video, in the "Kinger with a shotgun" clip, he seems to be hitting Pomni with the gun. it makes a lot more sense if Pomni ends up getting possessed somehow, forcing Kinger to hit her in order to defend himself from the ghost.

this also could tie back to the worried look on Kingers face in the screenshot before Possessed Pomni. Cause he'd know what he has to do, even though he doesn't want to hurt Pomni.

Hell, I'm pretty sure Kinger even openly protects Pomni in this episode.

because of the shot in the trailer taken from this hole's perspective

not only is Pomni hiding behind Kinger, but he has one of his hands out in front of her, as if to protect her from whatever is in that hole.

also in regards to guns, Kinger isn't the only one who gets to have a gun.

Pomni gets to wield a shotgun too, and it's likely to help both herself and Kinger fight off whatever was after them in the hole.

Ghost possession and gun-slinging aside, I do think that Pomni and Kinger have a little heart to heart in this episode.

boy doesn't that screenshot look familiar. reminds me of episode 2 with the blue lighting and concerned expression on Pomni's face. That scene in the test room where Pomni comforts Gumigoo. this time tho, she's comforting Kinger. it almost makes me wonder if this will be a reoccurring theme, with all the other characters eventually having a heart to heart with Pomni, and Pomni comforting them.

it'd really make her live up to her quote in episode 2 "I guess I just don't want you to feel like you're nothing. I don't want anyone to feel like that".

the only thing I do still have questions about, is wtf is Kinger looking at here?

I mean, it looks like the eyes of a ghost, if they could make their eyes glow like that.

ya know what, maybe he's looking at a mound of pillows or something.

yeah, like that.

[shyvioletcat]

~ Rowaelin Month Day 15: What if…? ~

*cracks fingers* Alright. Let’s cause some trouble. An alternate end to Heir of Fire if you will. Italics at the start come from the book.

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~

“I do. Until my last breath, and the world beyond. To whatever end.”

She would have paused then, asked him again if he really wanted to do this, but Maeve was still there, a shadow lurking behind them. That was why he had done it now, here—so Celaena could not object, could not try to talk him out of it.

It was such a Rowan thing to do, so pigheaded, that she could only grin as she drew the dagger across her wrist, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. She offered her arm to him.

With surprising gentleness, he took her wrist in his hands and lowered his mouth to her skin.

For a heartbeat, something lightning-bright snapped through her and then settled—a thread binding them, tighter and tighter with each pull Rowan took of her blood. Three mouthfuls—his canines pricking against her skin—and then he lifted his head, his lips shining with her blood, his eyes glittering and alive and full of steel.

There were no words to do justice to what passed between them in that moment…

~~~~~

“Quite a performance you’ve put on, Aelin,” Maeve drawled. There was something unsettling in her tone, something that had Celaena on edge. She had won this round against Maeve, outwitted and outplayed, leaving with everything that she wanted and could take. So why then was the Queen of fae so smug as she turned towards her throne, dark dress splaying elegantly as she sat down. “You’ve threatened to turn my people to ash, you’ve taken a member of my court, but you are still a child. Young to this world and the secrets it holds. You have your fire, but there are other powers you have yet to contend with.”

Rowan stepped closer, not in comfort but preparing to fight. Celeana was his to protect now and she did not doubt that he would put himself in harm's way to defend her. The slightest hint of threat from the Queen and he would use his body to protect Celaena first, then whatever else he could get his hands on.

“I have something for you, Rowan,” Maeve said, a spider’s smile on her lips. “A parting gift.”

“I want nothing,” Rowan said, his voice strong but breathless. The injuries inflicted by the twins were still unattended and would be incredibly painful no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

“Oh, I think you will want this,” Maeve said. Without turning to the other males in the room she commanded, “Leave us.”

The five of them did, silent and without expression as they obeyed. Without her cadre Maeve was no less of a threat, both Celaena and Rowan stood at the ready, waiting for whatever she decided to strike with next. Maeve stood and there was a silent demand to follow.

Do we? Aelin asked, glancing up at Rowan.

Her blood was still on his lips, the sight of it almost disappearing as he contemplated. I’m unsure.

But you want to.

Rowan nodded once. I’m curious to see what it is.

That was all the answer that Celaena needed. She took Rowan’s hand and followed after Maeve who had kept walking, knowing they would come. After a while Maeve led them to a door, behind it a narrow hallway and staircase that went down. Their footsteps echoed on the stone steps, none of them speaking. Behind her Rowan’s breaths turned ragged and Celaena wished that she could take the time to heal him.

They came to another door, made of wood and looked ancient. Maeve laid her palm on it, murmuring soft words that were followed by a ripple of power. The door opened and beyond was a room, the darkness inside pitch black. Still holding onto Rowan, Celaena held up her other hand, flames blazing. Not deterred by the dark, Maeve stepped into the room, disappearing from sight. Looking to Rowan one more time for confirmation, hand in hand, they entered the dark together.

At first even with her fae sight Celaena couldn’t see anything. It took a few moments to adjust to the shadows that seemed to fight against her fire. And then in the centre of the room something glimmered. A silver surface reflected the flames. From what Celeana could garner from the outline she could see, the object was rectangular and about the length of a body. Her gut sunk as she realised what it was: a coffin. She threw her flames wide, illuminating the entire room. Something was very wrong, Celaena could feel it.

“Thank you niece,” Maeve said, voice echoing in the domed room. “It has been centuries since they last saw light.”

Celeana’s sight adjusted again, and she couldn't decipher much besides the fact that whatever it was on the dais was made of glass. Letting go of her hand Rowan stepped around her to get closer and between her and the potential threat. The sight of his ravaged back had bile rising in Celeana’s throat and her flames burning brighter as her anger flared. She’d kill Maeve for that— and all her other sins.

Then Rowan stumbled, but not from pain. He seemed to be caught between lunging forward and reeling back. “How?”

“Fae children are precious, even to me,” Maeve said.

Celaena doubted anything was sacred to Maeve, but the words had made her curious. It took three steps to get to Rowan’s side and she was able to see through the glass. He was utterly still, staring at what was in front of them, an unreadable expression on his face. Celaena followed that gaze to see what Maeve had deigned to gift the Prince.

Oh gods.

The coffin was made up of panes of glass, each piece joined with ornate streams of silver. The beauty of it was startling, a work of art, but what held Celaena’s unwavering interest was what was inside. Of who was inside.

There was a fae female, her brown hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her head. She looked as though she was asleep, dressed in a white flowing gown embroidered with flowers made from an iridescent thread. The female didn’t hold Celaena’s attention for long, because there, tucked into the crook of the female’s arm was an infant. The child was small, tiny hands tucked under their chin. They too looked as though they were asleep, peaceful and frozen in time.

Celeana watched for signs of life. Both figures were unmoving, eyes closed and still. All her focus went into searching for something—anything—that would prove they were alive. The hold Rowan had on himself broke and he lunged forward, his hand splaying on the glass, residue of blood tarnishing the glass. He was watching with the same intensity Celaena was, even more so. Maeve’s soft venomous laughter echoed through the room, filling it. Only she could be amused by something as cruel as this.

Then there it was. The thump of two heartbeats, perfectly in sync, slow and quiet. The temperature plummeted and Rowan’s entire body shuddered in relief and he fell to his knees.

Celaena didn’t need to be told who lay in the coffin. This was Lyria Whitethorn, Rowan’s mate, who’s tragic story was inked into his skin. And the child was theirs and she wondered if they would be blessed with the Whitetorn silver hair. Celaena tried to process what she was seeing, what this would mean for her and Rowan and their journey forward. An agonised sob torn through the quiet of the room as snowflakes glittered in the air. At that sound, Celeana found that her heart was broken too.

“A reward for all your years of dedicated service, Rowan,” Maeve said, coming to stand on the opposite side of the coffin. “Your family.”

~~~~~

……. Yes I felt like breaking hearts

[lohstandfound]

bmc death game timeloop au /j

[carebearbussy]

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 (𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖?), 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

It was morning, as you were seated at a large gazebo with the very few concubines whom you had respect for. You drank the tea a maid had gotten for you, as you took small bites of pastry from the treat stand in the middle of the round table. The greenery of the courtyard made the day all the much better.

These concubines were also some of the few Sukuna had approved of you being around, so it felt nice to have some sense of normalcy. The girls all admired you, and the love their lord had for you. As the conversation went on, the talks ranged from talking about how great Lord Sukuna was, all the way to asking you personal questions. Until one of the younger concubines asked you a peculiar question.

"Have you ever tried sneaking out, Y/N?"

It rolled off her tongue out of sheer curiosity. "Yes, please tell us!", another one spoke up. The girls sitting around you looked ready for your answer. But you were dumbfounded at that thought. "No, I haven't." You answered, not wanting to even think about that. Sneaking out? Sure, you had your freedoms with Sukuna, but you never got to go out alone before. You wondered what it would be like, after all, and all the great things you could do. Shopping? Seeing your family on your own? Even for one night would really be something to wonder about.

"Really? Im suprised, considering how much Lord Sukuna dotes over you." An older one spoke, acting as more of a parental figure in the estate for you. "I guess... but I never really thought of that. And I don't really want to know what would happen if I were to ever do that." You spoke, searching for opinions from the other girls. "Maybe you should try! We can help you!" Another younger concubine spoke enthusiastically. "We can have a private girls trip!"

Private? Girls night? Those two things didn't sound appealing, especially to somebody in your position. Ever since Sukuna had taken a sudden liking to you, your world of privacy was thrown out the window. Everything seemed to involve him somehow, even when he was not present. A look of distain crosses your face, as you overthink everything.

"Please Y/N! We wont get caught I promise! How about tonight? We can all make preparations, while you just sit back and let us do the work!" And with that, everybody else seemed to agree. Besides, what complete harm could sneaking out for one night do?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

It was the covet of night, as Sukuna had just fallen into deep sleep. His arms were securely wrapped around your body, as you layed on top of his. You blew onto his eyes, just to check to see if he was truly asleep. No reaction. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, indicating he had to ill feeling you would try to leave. When he was asleep, it was usually very difficult to escape his grasp. Even when you needed to use the restroom, he would refuse to let you go in most cases.

You ever so slightly slid off of his body, using your hands to try and pry yourself free. You had gotten his top set of hands off your back, but as you were about to fully escape, you heard a low voice.

"Where do you think you are going?" He asked you, only opening his lower set of eyes. You felt your whole body heat up in a nervous mess. "I-was just using the restroom." You say, as your voice starts to crack a bit. "... have one of your servants go with you, like always." He says, while squinting at you. "Don't make me wake up again, brat." And with that, he calls for a servant, thankfully being your close friend in the estate, Miko.

He watches as you move towards the bathroom, and now confirming you were indeed going to the bathroom, he falls back asleep before saying, "And be quick."

As he falls asleep, you and Miko head to pack your belongings into a large bag, making sure to pack all of your essentials. Tip-toeing towards the door, you watch Sukuna with every step, worrying he might wake up and surprise you out of nowhere. But your fears are overtaken with confidence, as you have now reached the sliding shoji doors that lead to the first part of the courtyard. You give Miko a glance, before slowly opening the door, making sure not to wake up Sukuna.

As you open the door, you see the moonlight shine upon the estate, and reflecting on the large fountain in the middle. You had never been out here on your own, really. It was refreshing to be here so late. You stood by the door for a good while, before Miko spoke up.

"Y/N, whats wrong?" She asked you, as she tugged on your hand to keep going forward. "Nothing- its just I have never been out at night alone." You say, as you look around at outside. It was beautiful outside. The air was chilly, but the wind kept at a steady pace, with your thin satin nightgown not helping the chilly air. The wind blew your hair slightly out of your face, letting you get a better view of the outside.

"But you aren't alone, you're with me! And plus, we still have to meet up with the rest of the ladies, so lets go!" Miko says, her head slightly tilted. "Yeah, your right." You say, as Miko leads the way.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

You arrived near the front gate, but far enough to not be seen by the guards. The guards have been given strict orders to return you if you were ever to be caught sneaking out. And you knew this. You and the group of concubines sat near the bench, talking about your escape plan quietly. In the back, you can hear the crickets buzzing as the night goes on.

"Okay so, whats the plan?" You asked, causing all of the girls to look over at each other in disappointment. "So your telling me, you made me sneak out in the middle of the night, just for all of you to not know what to do?" You asked frantically, but still whispering. "Okay okay, calm down. We are not going to get caught, especially for how far we have gotten." The older one spoke up. "Exactly! We have gotten so far, we cant stop now." Miko spoke up, lightly rubbing your shoulder.

You start to overthink all of the possibilities in one moment. Will he yell at you? Kill you? No, he could never do that, but the thought of that makes your mind go fuzzy in a way you cannot explain.

"I don't know guys, we should just go back-" Your words are interrupted when you bump into a particularly large wall. Wall? No, this was Sukuna. You drop your bags, as all the respect in your body is put forward.

"Oh? What do we have here?" Sukuna says condescendingly. In an instant, everybody in his vicinity including you cowers to their feet to bow, leaving no room for questions. Behind Sukuna, who was towering over everybody menacingly, was Uraume, as well as a couple guards huddled behind Uraume. Sukuna proceeds to pick you up by the nightgown, as you dangle while looking into his eyes, causing you to shut your eyes out of pure fear.

"Im sorry 'Kuna, i'm so sorry-" "Sorry for? Its clearly not your fault, but these incompetent women you call your friends. Clearly I need to keep better watch." He says, then glaring down at the set of women before him. He scoffs at them, before he hoists you over his shoulder, holding you on there with one hand on your ass, and another wrapped securely around your back.

"Uraume, take care of these women, and make sure they stay clear of Y/N in the future." He says, before turning the other way, walking off with you back to bed. How did he know? You were sure to cover your tracks well. But this confirmed your suspicions, you really couldn't hide from Sukunas grasp. "Right away, my lord." Uraume replied, as they made a flick of the hands, signaling the guards to do their job.

As you are steered away from the scene, you get a good look of your group of friends being halled away by the guards. But Sukuna does not like ruining the image he had gone out of his way to make for you, so he covers your eyes with one of his free hands. You try to move his hands away from your eyes, but to no avail. "What are you doing with them? Where are you taking me?" You say, kicking your feet at his chest, but the mouth on his stomach catches your foot.

"Back to bed, where you belong. And then i'm going to teach you about the things that happen when you try to pull stunts like this."

What. What did he mean by that? "What made you think I would not find out about such trivial things? You are horrible at hiding things from your king, brat." He says, with a 'tsk'. "I said I was sorry, just please!" You said, a look of concern evident on your face. "Please don't hurt my friends!"

"Friends? There is no need for those anymore, now that I know their intentions, must have not been some very good 'friends' if they were planning on leading you away from me."

The walk back to your bedroom is quiet, mostly consisting of your heartbeat racing, the only thing keeping your mind steady are the steps of Sukunas strides. As he reaches the front steps, he places you down on the ground with care. His stature towers over yours, as he reaches out to place a hand on your chin, forcing you to look back up at him, the moonlight reflecting behind him.

"I do not know where you were planning on going, but you wont get very far without me, just so we're clear."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

[dark-fics-4-you]

Lie There and Look Pretty

Dark!Rafe Cameron x stepsis!Reader

Warnings: noncon, somnophilia, incest relationship (step siblings), loss of virginity

A/N: this is a drabble separate from my Number One Fan series, which will have more chapters eventually

The only light in the room was the thin slits peeking between the blinds covering Rafe’s window.

He pressed closer to your sleeping figure, slowly rocking his hard on against your ass. Fingers danced across your hips before digging into your soft flesh and pulling you closer to him.

His hand left your waist, snaking between your legs and lightly brushing over the soft fabric of your panties. You let out a soft whimper in your sleep, hips starting to slowly rock with his touch.

You were so cute and sweet, all curled up in your older stepbrother’s bed, peacefully dozing without a care in the world. Rafe could feel himself getting harder just looking at you. He needed to get closer though, needed to feel you wrapped around him, gazing up at him with those dazed, sleepy doe eyes as he pushed himself inside of you, claiming you as his own in a way no other man could.

After all, wasn’t it his job to take care of you? To protect you? To make sure his little sister wasn’t hurt by a world full of cruel men? They all wanted to hurt you, but not him. Rafe would make sure you were always safe, always taken care of. You deserved someone who cared about you, who knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Carefully, he sat up, climbing over you and shifting you onto your back, before he parted your legs. His eyes were fixed on your now slightly damp panties, and he pulled them out of the way to get a glimpse at your perfect pussy. You were already so wet, and he had barely even touched you.

Surely you had to know what was happening, right? There must have been some part of you that could feel what he was doing to you, even in your sleeping state?

Rafe sucked in a breath when he slowly tried to push a finger inside of you, surprised by the resistance he felt, you were squeezing around his digit so tight, and so deliciously wet.

When he curled his finger inside, you let out another whine, face scrunching up in your sleep at the feeling. With his free hand, Rafe pulled his cock out of his boxers, stroking himself at the sight of you laid out in front of him. You looked so vulnerable, completely unaware of your older bother, whose dick was now throbbing in his hands as he leered above your unconscious body.

Before he could think twice, Rafe lined his cock up to your slit, gently rubbing the tip against your slick folds. You felt so good and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

He slowly tilted his hips forward, allowing just the tip to slide in. His breath caught in his throat at the feel, and he knew that it was too late to back out now. He wouldn’t be able to live after just a small taste, not allowing himself to have all of you would drive him crazy.

Gently, Rafe began moving back and forth, never going deeper than the tip, but enough to generate a friction that had him biting back curses. Rafe didn’t want to wake you up, but at the same time he desperately wanted you to be awake, reacting to his every touch and looking into his eyes as he took what was rightfully his.

He must have gotten caught up in his thoughts because when he looked down at where his cock was disappearing inside you, he realized he had been pushing in deeper than he thought, now half of his length was filling you up, and he could feel you squeezing down on every inch. Rafe’s eyes flitted back up to yours and he was shocked to see they were opening.

You felt confused, head swimming in a state between asleep and awake. There was a huge pressure between your legs, but also a twinge of pleasure, each rock of the bed brought you closer to being pulled from sleep, and when you opened your eyes you were surprised that blue eyes were staring back into your own.

You tensed up immediately and Rafe groaned at the feeling, his hand wrapping around your throat before you could react, stealing your breath away from you. His face came to your neck, hot breath fanning over your tender skin as he grunted softly.

“You gotta be quiet Y/N, mm k?” Rafe’s voice was barely a whisper, the only sounds in the room were your bed shifting as he fucked you and the lewd sounds of his cock plunging into your wet cunt. “Don’t wanna wake up mom and dad, yeah? Just lie there and look pretty, ‘m gonna make you feel good.”

You were in shock, unable to fully grasp the situation you had just woken up to. The feeling of him sliding against your snug walls was both heavenly and so so sinful. The conflicting feelings inside you stirred a horrible mix of desire and disgust, but you were mostly just caught between disbelief and horror.

Rafe was fucking you deeper, burying his cock into you a little faster and harder with every thrust. When you reached your hands up to try to push him off of you, he easily overpowered you, one hand tightly gripping your wrists and pinning you to the bed so hard you knew they would be bruised in the morning.

His hips were snapping against yours frantically now, bare chest pressing to yours as he caged you in between his arms. The blond’s lips covered your own, smothering you with unwanted kisses, before he pulled away to bite and nip at your neck.

“Relax,” he growled through gritted teeth. “And let your big brother take care of you, princess.”

[changetyre]

Thank you for all of the stories recently! Can you do one where Lando gets tired of you calling him “Little Lando Norris” and decides to show you how big he really is?

L.L.N II Lando Norris ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Lando doesn't mind you making fun and playing games just as long as you're aware of the truth...and he'll be more than happy to remind you.

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: Got some good news so felt inspired to write again ;) Sorry for the delay.

"Aww poor little Lando." You jokingly patted him on the back. "Better luck next time buddy." you laughed as you walked away leaving him fuming.

Once again you'd beat Lando for 3rd place by merely a few seconds, an ongoing rivalry between you both that had everyone at the edge of their seats.

Ever since karting you and Lando had this heated rivalry, always making the other's life impossible and being each other's biggest competition so it was no surprise when it continued onto Formula 1.

To the outside world, it was incredibly entertaining for everyone to see the rivalry between the two of you. The rude remarks and snarky comments you threw at each other during interviews, the hate between you two only brewing stronger with each race.

But little did people know the way you were able to keep the hate at bay and keep yourselves in check. It had all started as a stupid drunk mistake when you found yourselves fucking in a club bathroom. The memory was hazy but you both remembered enough to know that deep down you liked it.

The next time it was a simple rash decision, you didn't think about it when you found yourself waking up in Lando Norris's room naked his arm across your waist, quickly throwing it off before running back to your room.

It was good. The sex was good, and that was the only reason you kept coming back. That's what you both told each other.

But it had become a frequent occurrence now, almost 5 months of quick and meaningless fucks where you could let out the pent-up tension and anger you had for each other.

But this still didn't take away from the fact that you still loved to piss each other off on track. Secretly you'd grown to love doing it more because you felt the direct consequence of it later.

"Lando, how do you feel about yet another close battle today with your biggest rival on track?" The interviewer asked him.

"Yeah, she just got lucky getting the better line around the next corners, but she knows I'm not one to back down, she knows what's coming for her," Lando smirked loving the double meaning behind his words.

He could see you a few feet from him giving your own interview. He just about heard you when once again you'd referred to him as Little Lando Norris, something you'd taken to recently which just irked him a little more than usual.

He watched you carefully, keeping his eyes on you like a hawke which to everyone else looked like pure hatred but truly it was simply because Lando could see the way Pierre got a little too friendly with you for his liking.

Lando would never admit it to you but he truly couldn't control the jealousy that erupted in his stomach whenever he saw you get too friendly with anyone. Whatever you had might have been meaningless but as far as he was concerned you were still his for now.

"Alright thanks, Lando enjoy your break." Lawrence finalized the interview with Lando outside the McLaren hospitality just as he could see you walking out of the press conference room with Pierre quickly by your side.

He didn't hesitate as he stood up with a quick step towards you. His blood boiling when he heard you laugh at something Pierre said.

"I need to talk to you." Lando stood in front of you making you stop abruptly and bump into his chest.

"Oh look hey speaking of the devil." You smirked.

"Little Lando Norris." Pierre joked but for some reason, Lando didn't find it the least bit amusing coming from him.

"Okay well can't talk now so bye." You were about to move past him but Lando grabbed your arm.

"Wasn't asking." Lando was ready to pull you away with him but was stopped by Pierre who grabbed your other hand.

"I actually just asked her for a drink so-" Pierre was quick to tell Lando.

"So she can't right now." Lando didn't let him finish or you protest before whisking you away.

You were completely taken aback as Lando shamelessly dragged you away from Pierre not caring the way there were several eyes on you as he took you towards the McLaren building.

Your heart pounded in your chest rendering you speechless as he walked you all the way into the building past several staff members before reaching his room where he was quick to shut you both inside.

"Lando what the-" you finally regained your voice as the door closed behind you.

"Shut up." Lando pressed his lip to yours as he pressed you to the wall. You had to push through the rush that invaded your body trying not to give in so easily.

"Lando, what has gotten into you?" You asked breathlessly as Lando began kissing down your neck unbuttoning your jeans and dragging them down

"So it's just Lando now?" was all he said.

"What are you- ah fuck." before you could reply again you cut yourself off when Lando began ruthlessly attacking your clit.

Lando basked in the pleasure he could produce on you loving the way you became putty in his hands behind closed doors despite the way you loved to tease him and take control outside.

Lando's pants suddenly felt painfully tight as he continued his attack on you taking the liberty he unbuckled his pants all while still tasting you before pulling his dick out into his hands to give it a few pumps.

Lando didn't stop, not until you had your first orgasm before finally getting up. "Why don't you return the favor baby?" Lando asked despite knowing he didn't have to since you were on your knees before he could even finish asking.

You prepared yourself knowing the ache you would feel from sucking him off having to open wide to take him into your mouth. Lando's eyes showed the smugness in them at watching the way you always struggled initially to take him never able to take him all down until you'd sucked him off for a while.

Lando groaned as you began moving your head up and down, your hands taking care of what you couldn't fit in your mouth for now.

"Nothing so little about that is there?" Lando asked the pride clear in his voice.

Only now did you understand what this was all about but you didn't care to complain since he'd gotten you all worked up.

"Why don't you make it extremely clear for me." You decided to try to have your own way.

"Gadly baby." Lando pulled you up before picking you up and using the wall to support you in his arms before using one of his hands to line himself up against your whole.

"Please-" You pleaded, Lando loved the way you begged every time he got near you like these.

"you ready?" he asked despite feeling your wetness already drip onto him.

"Yes, please fuck me." You sighed as you grabbed Lando's face to kiss him.

Lando used this distraction to push himself all the way inside you swallowing your yelp. "Shit baby you're so wet," Lando whispered knowing he had to keep semi-quiet because of the remaining staff in the building right now. Although half of him hoped everyone could hear what you were doing and the way he was making you feel right now...make it crystal clear to everyone.

"Ah, fuck Lando go faster." You begged him as Lando pushed in and out of you fully and completely at a brutally slow pace.

"Who's making you feel like this baby?" Lando asked not answering to your pleas just yet.

"You Lan...You are." You could almost cry at the torturous pace he'd set.

"not even fucking Pierre can make you feel like this can he?" His words were laced with disgust and anger which made your stomach flutter.

"No...no just you." You replied kissing Lando once again.

This was enough for Lando as he picked up his pace feeling the way you clenched around him and the way you struggled to keep quiet.

"Fu...so good...shit" You moaned in a whisper as Lando kept thrusting faster and faster into you against the wall.

Lando could cum at the sight of you, watching the way your tits would bounce with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, and hearing your uneven breaths as you tried to keep quiet while your orgasm quickly approached, feeling the way you held onto him as if your own skin was begging for more. This was it. This was glory to Lando.

[astraystayyh]

You're sexy I'm sexy

Jeongin x reader. Friends to lovers. Lots of pining and tension. Innie has a fat crush. Mention of alcohol and drinking!

Inspired by You're sexy I'm sexy by Eric Nam, also by this moodboard by @chachachannah <3

Jeongin is out with his friends, and you. You're tipsy and sitting on his lap, and he doesn't think he can keep his crush for you at bay anymore.

skz song series masterlist.

a.n: 7/8 of the series and a little fun break from all the angst <3 can't believe there is only one fic to go now :")

Jeongin is out with nine of his friends, they are loud and boisterous, their laughter echoing throughout the small bar they're in. Yet, the only thing he can seem to focus on is you. You're giggling at a joke Minho just told, and it feels as if your laugh is molten sunshine, running through his veins and igniting him from within.

You squint your eyes as you take a sip of your drink, your nose scrunching up as the liquor grazes your tastebuds, and Jeongin can't seem to take his eyes off of you. He is enthralled by your every move, and you're not even doing anything.

He's had a crush on you for a while, four months to be exact- 120 days where his every waking moment was spent thinking of you. It happened so abruptly, taking him completely off-guard. He's never felt this way before- a blushing mess, putty in your hands, so pliable for you to mold however you want. 

He shakes his head, tugging slightly at his black bangs. He remembers how you complimented him on his new color, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. You’re always so nonchalant, in your way of touching him as if you don't leave him burning up in your trail. As if your knee bumping into his doesn't make electricity shoot through his body, as if your arm resting lazily on his shoulder doesn't make the world around him fade away, until all he sees is you.

You stand up to go get another drink, and Jeongin finally feels as if he can breathe again. "You're staring at yn," Hyunjin nudges his side with his elbow, and Jeongin drawls out a whine, hiding his face in his hands, "I know." 

Some time has passed, and Chan has called over some people he knows, so now everyone is squeezed into this tiny brown booth with Jeongin at the end of it. But no one seems to mind the lack of space, everyone is delighted the exam season is finally over.

You come back, a red drink in your hand, and Jeongin can tell it’s you just from the intoxicating smell of your perfume. He's learned to recognize you through those small details- he can even distinguish your soft knocks on his door when you visit his dorm. 

There is no place left for you in the booth, and you pout slightly. Jeongin goes to stand up to leave you his place, but you push him gently back down. 

"Do you mind?" you ask, pointing at his lap and he startles, looking between you and his legs. He stays silent for a while, unsure of how to answer, and you smile slightly.

"Never mind, it's okay," you leave to get a chair but he grabs your hand abruptly, pulling you on top of his lap. 

Jeongin doesn't know what's taking over him, he's never been this bold. But he accounts it on the one sip of alcohol he's taken, this, and the fact you proposed such a thing. He knows you're tipsy because your cheeks are tinted pink and you don't seem to mind where you’re sitting, on his lap. 

Jeongin can't think straight anymore, too overwhelmed by the warmth of your body. You are everywhere, all at once, and he feels a sudden urge to bury his face in your hair and never let go. You move your hair to your right shoulder, and the scent of your shampoo tickles his nose. The curve of your neck is exposed, and he wonders what would happen if he grazed it with his teeth.

Would shivers run down your spin? Would you gasp softly, pupils dilating as if trying your best to take him all in?

You are laughing, again, and the melodic sound pulls Jeongin out of his wandering thoughts. He finds it endearing, how your entire body shakes when you chuckle, as if laughter reverberates through you from head to toe. Was it normal to be so aware of someone's existence? To know them more than you know yourself? 

"Am I bothering you?" you turn to ask him, a soft smile on your face, and he shakes his head. It felt as if his tongue was tied in an impossible knot, he couldn't think, or dare to speak with you so near. 

"You're warm," you point out, placing your cold hands on his heated cheeks. He closes his eyes, leaning into your cooling touch. 

"Here, let me," you smile, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket and shrugging it off of him. He simply watches as you place the discarded jacket on top of your lap, before rolling the sleeves of his white t-shirt a bit upward. Your hand lingers on his forearm, squeezing it lightly, and it feels as if you’ve sealed the skin with your palm. Anyone who gazes at it will be able to tell you touched him.

You lean your back onto his chest, and Jeongin tentatively wraps his arm around your waist. Your hand reaches up to play absentmindedly with his silver rings, and he wonders what you must look like to other people. He wanted them to think that you were a couple, he realizes. Maybe if enough people believed it, it'd become a reality.

The night passes and the place beside Jeongin frees up, but you stay on his lap. His chin is now on your shoulder, your back snug against his chest. He can feel every twitch of your body and every soft exhale you take, and he unconsciously mirrors your actions, as if looking for any way to intertwine your being with his.

He goes to grab a water bottle from the table but you hand it to him, unscrewing the cap in the process. You turn to face him, as he brings the bottle to his mouth, his eyes still fixated on you. A water droplet runs down his throat, and you trace over its path with your finger lightly, which makes his Adam's apple bob up and down furiously.

Your finger doesn't leave his skin- you are tracing over his collarbones now, and he licks his lips nervously. Your touch is barely there, it would be farfetched to even compare it to a feather. But it's you who's touching him, so he feels it, everywhere.

Your hand moves to rest on top of his chest, and he knows you can feel his heart beating widely in there. He thinks the entire room can hear it at this point. A testament of what you do to him, of what you make him feel. Only you.

"Hi there," you smile innocently and Jeongin lets out a dry chuckle, his hooded eyes gazing intensely into yours.

"Hey you," he whispers, grabbing a strand of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. His gaze flickers from your eyes, to your nose and then to your lips. It stays there, too enamored to possibly move somewhere else. You're talking, he knows you are, but he can't seem to hear what you are saying.

He can't blame it on the alcohol because he hasn't even drunk that much. But his mind is foggy with thoughts of you, of what he wants to do with you, if you'd let him.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" you ask, a slight giggle rhythming your words. 

"Do you even know how pretty you are," he says in awe before his eyes slightly widen in shock. Did he just say this out loud?

"Is that why you kept looking at me all night?" you smile, a hint of teasing in your tone, and Jeongin buries his head in your shoulder. "Shut up," he says lowly, embarrassment clear in his voice at being caught. 

"It's okay, you're so pretty too," you smile, pulling his head away so you'd be able to look at him again. 

His eyes find your lips instantly, like two magnets that can't help but be drawn to one another- fated to be together, no matter how much they try to stay apart.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks breathlessly, raw hope dripping from his tone. "We don't have to be something more I just-" 

You cut him off with your mouth crashing on his, desperately, and he gasps onto you as if you're the oxygen with which he breathes. You taste sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he's getting drunk from the way your mouths move against one another. He wraps his arm around your waist, thumb brushing your sides gently in an effort to bring you impossibly close. Your hands finds his hair, tugging slightly at the ends of it, and it's as if you wanted this too all along. As if Jeongin wasn't alone in his longing for you.

Your lips are soft, immensely so, and he doesn't think he can go back to not kissing you. To preserving you in his mind as a fond memory, not when he knows what it feels like to have his mouth on yours.

"I want to be somebody to you," he says between kisses, desperation lacing his words. He doesn't care how needy he sounds. He's been waiting for four months. If there is a slight chance you like him back, he'd take it and water it enough until it blooms into something much more.

"You already are," you smile into the kiss, your teeth clashing against his which makes you both giggle. "You'll kiss me again when we are sober, right?"

"I'll kiss you for the rest of my life if you'd let me," he brushes his nose against yours gently, and you smile softly at him, wiping the remains of your red lipstick from the corner of his mouth. He places a tender kiss on your wrist, before pressing his swollen lips onto yours again.

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - I - Nightmares

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.8K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: "Feyd-Rautha he's psychotic", at least thats what people say. Only, people forgot to add that your father's decided you were to marry. It's been over a decade and Feyd's committed to have the marriage and you with him as he ascends as heir and na-Baron of Geidi Prime.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: abduction, masterbation, voyeurism

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️

“Another one?” Your best friend and fellow Bene Gesserit sister asks as you wake in another cold sweat. Nodding you sit up in bed blinking through the darkness. Leia lights the lamp and a yellow glow shines into both of your faces. The first vision was a decade ago, you had been sleeping under the stars. Pale skin and a bald head. A large brute of a ban killed another. Then there was a boy clearly terrified but shaking with anger too. Black eyes, black teeth, pale skin, a temper. Year after year the visions became angrier, more psychopathic. Handing you materials Leia climbs into bed beside you and you begin your account of the vision.

“Will you tell the reverend mother?” She asks.

“Not yet” you confess ordering your thoughts and placing the coded message on the scroll. Leia watches in silence. This vision was in a black room probably on Geidi Prime. You were asleep on a larger black bed with four posts. You were asleep only to wake up to the black eyes looking down at you. He’d never spoken before but he’d said two words in the strangest grittiest words before. “You’re mine” unlike all the other dreams you felt him in the bed, felt the friction of him coming closer, felt his breath on your skin, the heat coming from his body.

“Are you alright?” Leia asks, handing me a glass of water.

“No” you confess as the two words haunt you. There’ve been all kinds of visions. Brutal murders, sick torture, murderous games with concubines, moments of tyrannical rage and now. Now he’d come for you. Stepping out of the bed you find solace in the coolness of the stone on your feet. Leia follows and you search your things for the herbs that dull your senses. It’s a necessity for sleep and reprieve. Since childhood you’d been careful not to share but as you’ve grown it’s only become clearer and clearer the subject of your dreams. He was tall, strong, angry, well off, psychotic and some would say handsome. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the na-Baron and your original betrothed.

“What is it?” Leia asks.

“He’s coming for me mother must teach me the way” you say against your training with fear and foreboding.

——-

Feyd’s earliest memories were of you, he’d been with his father on your home planet looking into your cradle. Your mother was beautiful and your father kind. You were peaceful and little and he’d held you in his arms. He felt protective and during the commitment ceremony he’d meant every word. As a second son your world was promised to him. Even as a child the differences between your two cultures were glaring to him. The freedom to play and be a child, the kindness of the people and you was something to look forward to. But then Rabanne had murdered his father, and his mother had been indifferent and after a few years it enraged him to no end. In a fit of anger he’d killed her. Even with all of his concubines he’d never felt as peaceful as he had with you in his arms as a child. He’d stopped a genocide in your home world looking for you only to find your mother’s kind eyes fearing for her life. He’d done right by sending her to a peaceful planet instead of taking her life. He learned you had been taken by the Bene Gesserit sisters which meant you could be anywhere. No matter where,  he intended to find you.His heart felt like a displaced magnet. Angrier still was the fact that he imagined you living a full life without him. Unbothered, not tortured by the distance as he was, happy and serene. Still he could not disclose his search to anyone in fear for your life. He would have to move carefully to keep his commitment to you.

 Another planet, stepping off the ship he’s given respect by the procession awaiting his arrival. His heart races; he knows your close. Sticking earplugs into his ears he applies the fasteners having his guards to the same. No one would use the voice on him today. He moves quickly spilling no blood. He can feel you. He’s getting warmer. He can feel it. Moving quickly he heads down into the belly of the academy moving quickly through the bunkers. His heart pulls as he passes an entryway stopping when he has a familiar sensation. Heart racing violently against his chest he stops Turing to face the steel door, he stops breathing allowing the violence of his heartbeat to reverberate through him like a war drum. Feyd-Rautha signals for his men to wait outside. Using the code scrambler he gets into the door. Hiding you hold your breath ducking down into the thick of your clothes, the sound of the alarms system’s failure are blaring. Fear racks through you as you try to keep calm remembering the Bene Gesserit mantras. Fear is the mind killer. The noise stops and you relax a little waiting for an announcement. Heavy boots hit the floor forcing you to freeze, the steps come closer stopping in front of the closet. Leis screeches and its muffled, trembling you contemplate your next move. The steps come closer and you see the door open, light filters in. You cover your mouth hoping for safety until a black eye meets yours.  Familiarity and horror paralyze you. Pale skin and a bald head. The face from your nightmares. Feed-Rautha Harkonnen. Pinching yourself you discover he’s finally free’d himself from your dreams and is now material. He steps in separating the close from around you leaving you crouched against the wall with no cover before sitting on your bed and watching you like he has all the time in the world.. His smirk is unsettling and it takes a moment before you stand feeling silly and all too vulnerable crouched in the deep closet.

“Get dressed” he croaks but you’re shaking like a leaf. Snarling he procures robes from the closet placing one over your head. The trembling intensifies. And he steps back feeling rejected. Leaving he has his men pack up your things and then there’s a barrage of people asking you all sorts of questions from what you like to wear and eat and do and it’s all so much. You’re loaded onto a Harkonnen ship and placed in a room alone. Looking through the window you gaze into space. When a few hours have passed you hear the door open and know it’s him before it closes. He takes a seat in his leather robes. You turn to face the man who moves like a snake. He’s more terrifying in person than in your dreams. His eyes watch your every move drinking you in. Parting his lips and showing his black teeth.

“Are you comfortable?” His words come as a surprise. It’s the thing you’ve least expected. It takes a moment before you nod, trying not to be rude as you look around the room.

“Yes, thank you” you respond.

“We are heading to my home world. I understand you have different needs. The Mentats are sourcing food and clothes if there’s anything you need let them know” he explains sanely.

“Ok” you respond, your hands begin to shake again. You sit on them trying to hide the true fear you feel. House Harkonnen is known for many atrocities. 

“I’m sorry” you apologize, terrified and embarrassed.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks.

“A Harkonnen” you confess and his snake-like eyes look displeased.

“Do you know who I am to you?” He asks, forcing you to frown.

“Nothing” you respond only to regret it instantly. Feyd-Rautha takes a breath inflating his chest as he trembles with rage, the paleness of his skin flushing as searing anger bubbles to the forefront. He stands stepping back from you in fear of hurting you.

“My father and yours promised us to each other” his fierce voice cracks as he struggles for control. His terrifying blackened teeth make your eyes shut. He’d done terrible things to people, slight and then slash that's how it went. He was one with his knives and happy to use them. You wait for life to end, your breath to hutch and everything to fade into darkness but it doesn't happen. You hear boots hit the floor three times. Bravery, curiosity? Perhaps it was so quick and painless that this is purgatory? You open your eyes and see Feyd has given you more distance. He’s recalled his anger and he stands stoic, fierce and regal.

“Do you not remember?” He asks because that day had been so monumental to him.

“I had heard heard whispers but …” you trail considering the realities and the odds. Your visions, how you’ve been in hiding. Out of all the things they call him; liar isn’t one of them.You consider the possibilities and it comes to you. Your heart begins to race, you feel stinging in your thumb, like a pinprick. A commitment ceremony was held. The realization is dizzying. “You wish to be married?” You ask and he nods. “To me?” You specify and he nods again. “But I’m nobody from an extinct world. I’m not even a high ranking member of my order” you declare in truth.

“No, you will be na-Baroness Harkonnen” Feyd says, taking a step in your direction. He watches you try to make sense of it. He’d never considered your reaction to being found, he hadn't expected fear or reluctance. He expected your inherent trust in him for you to cling to him for support and comfort as you once did, for you to relish his touch and be most comfortable in his arms.

“na-Baroness” you whisper, looking up at him. Pride fills Feyd at the sound of the words coming from your lips, utter perfection.

“My wife” he rasps and somehow your fear seems unfounded. “I made a vow that I do not intend to break” Feyd says recalling you in his arms as a babe. Your eyes looking up at him without fear in your swaddling helpless, innocent, true and his. A knock at the door causes him to withdraw, he turns standing in front of you. The guard tries looking around to you until Feyd stomps a foot. The man averts his gaze telling Feyd your landing is imminent. Nodding he straightens his gown as he stands tall. Feyd-Rautha holds out a hand. You take it with a deep breath and it seems to amuse him. The heat of him feels familiar. “There will be a crowd, I will send you along in a pod” 

“With who?” You ask standing with him.

“My men” he specifies and it's unsatisfactory. Grabbing your head dress you place it on your head and move forward that way. You hold his hand he secures yours warmly walking at your side. You keep up with him and as the door descends you start to tremble. He stands in front of you as you try to overcome your fear. His eyes are reassuring, his strong hands gripping yours in solidarity. There's no weakness in him. He’s all strength, cunning, volatility, rage and psychopathy. His eyes urge you to get a grip but the roar of the welcome party is unnerving. Your fathers reign ended to a crowd. Soldiers came and there was shouting, there was cheering and you had no time to say goodbye before your mother put you into an escape pod with a scroll. You arrived at an outer planet to find out your father had been beheaded. It’s why you hate crowds to this day.

“Not today” he whispers motioning for someone to come get you. The roaring is violent and you follow them into a pod lighting up at the sight of Leia. The two of you embrace each other warmly. In moments you’ve deemed each other okay. The guards watch the two of you closely. Sitting beside her you take a moment to check the beauty mark on the inside of your thumb. It had been there as long as you could remember. You should be terrified by your current predicament, inadequate training, no  preparation, playing a part of an unsanctioned plot of sisterhood, at the mercy of perhaps the galaxy’s most unbalanced man. But he’d been nothing but reasonable thus far outside of your abduction. 

The cheers from the people are thunderous, they celebrate his return with conviction. Once outside the pods you become acquainted with the sprawling palace halls. Uneasiness fills you and your hand clasps Leia’s for comfort, something your guards eyes settle on. Saying nothing you follow behind him seeing a Mentat among your escort. You’re brought into a grand hall with a stately black stone table. Fresh colourful food is on one side while rare organic meat is on another, the sight of the bloody dishes and iron rich aroma sickens you and Leia.

“I wish to retire, I am exhausted” you declare unable to sit. The silent guard turns to you nodding. He motions for a Mentat to guide you and Leia to your quarters. You're separated from her after a long hug. Your room is far grander than your quarters at the academy. It has a familiar quality of the ones from your home world. The colours are less sterile, the hues less grey. Pulling open the drawers you find lush vibrant fabrics, the sort of robes you remember your mother wearing before the fall of your house. It's a strange thing. Turning you lean against the dresser puzzled by the days events and not nearly as scared as you should be.

Finished and energized by his warm reception Feyd-Rautha heads to the dining hall. He waits against the door when he hears no chatter. Bracing himself for anything he pushes open the doors to find the room empty with the exception of the Mentat and a few guards charged with your care.

“She wished to retire” the Mentat explains.

“Did she eat?” Fey’d asks.

“No” The Mentat responds. Feyd’s mood sours, settling into a rage, if it were anyone else he would have dragged them back out of the room, placed a collar around her neck and forced her to do as he pleased but it wasn't anyone, it was you. 

“Set the table in my quarters” he demands heading into his rooms. Undressing he removes his armour until all he has on are slacks and a tunic. Feyd dismisses his staff sitting at the table and pressing a button. A screen emerges from the wall with a wide panoramic view of your quarters on display. He watches you as he eats, watches you let your hair down from the ornate style of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. He watches the sway of your hips as you go from room to room. He watches you admire the artwork that's been placed there. Feyd-Rautha watches you with pride and admiration, you weren't trying to run as far as he could see. He watches as you return to the sleeping chambers. He feels himself stiffen as he watches you undress, standing he drops the rare meat drawn to the screen with a crooked grin as you make your way to the cleansing chambers. The bounce of your breast, the softness of your skin, everything has him solid as stone. He watches you step in and the misting of water commence, the beads of water glisten on your skin, he zooms in to get a better view of you unguarded. The surprise in your expression as the automatic system goes through the washing ritual.

His thoughts are heinous and depraved, his need for dominance, ownership, acceptance and submission are more than he can take. Releasing his manhood from his plants he begins stroking it roughly. For the first time he doesn’t call his concubines to satisfy him. They would all fail miserably, no one but you would ever again, but this night he would have to do. He needed you so bad he felt desperate. Stroking himself faster he’s practically salivating as the chamber begins drying you, the way your hair blows, the surprise in your eyes, the suppleness of your skin. It takes everything in him to contain his hunger for you, control his passion, his need. He wanted to be inside you marking you, claiming you with his seed. Watching your expressions change as he takes you further and further into the pleasures of passion. You would be his wife soon enough. His hands would never leave your warm flesh. He would keep his manhood sheathed inside you training you well. Coming hard from his own fantasies Fed’s shallow breaths bring him to a stark realization. He would do anything to have you stop trembling at the sight of him, he’d try to be as patient as possible. He needed your submission, your acceptance of him, and he needed it to be real, to want to share his bed. Looking up at the screen he watches you dress in sheer bed robes. Climbing into the large bed he watches you find comfort in it. 

“You’re mine” he says to the screen as a promise.

🖤

Thank you so much for reading 🩶 let me know if you enjoyed, want to be added to the taglist or anything else on your mind 🩶 comment, like & reblog for more Feyd. xx

TAGS: @elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) III

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You wonder if it could have been different for you

*TW: suicide, death, depressive thoughts, overdose*

Sometimes, as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you wonder if you were always doomed to become this.

This shell of a person that no one can recognise.

This phantom inhabiting someone else's body.

You wonder if your life would have turned out differently if Alexia had given you away.

Maybe straight at your birth, to some couple that actually lived half a world away. Would you have even known you were Spanish?

Certainly given away to Jenni when you were younger. Would you have even been a Putellas anymore?

Jenni has faded from your mind a bit now. You used to see her regularly as a kid, back when she and Alexia were dating. But then she went to Mexico and the visits faded. You never went to Spain camp so you never saw her.

Jenni was firmly entrenched in the world of football.

You had always been an outsider.

You wonder if there's something you could have done to make yourself more appealing to Alexia. If something as simple as being good at football was enough to make her like you.

You didn't need her to love you.

You just needed her to like you.

That could be enough for you.

You didn't need a seat at her table or a home in her house. Just a warm feeling from her towards you could be enough.

Anything but the air of neutrality that you know she feels when she looks at you.

Anything but the non-committal hums when you spoke to her.

Anything but the way she so proudly showed off her son but left you in the background, the afterthought that only got brought up when people mentioned that they're sure she had a daughter too.

You don't recognise yourself in Alba's bathroom mirror. Whatever sad, fractured version of yourself that looks back at you can't possibly be who you are, can't possibly be what you look like.

Alexia's face clouds your version, like she's taken over your reflection, like she's trapped inside you every time you look in the mirror.

You wonder if she sees any of herself in you when you meet eyes.

You wonder if in another world, any world, she truly sees you as a daughter.

You wonder if you were always heading here, to this destination.

To the temporary refuge of Alba's home.

You wonder if you were meant to have jumped into the ocean that night. You wonder if your body was meant to have floated out to sea where no one could find you.

You wonder if outrunning your fate then meant it had worked doubly hard to catch up to you now.

The ocean would have been peaceful. You would have been rocked to salvation by the waves.

Now, it will not be so peaceful and you can accept that.

You have always been a runner, always sprinting away from your problems only for them to come back. Worse. Meaner. Holding you in a grip so tight that you suffocate.

You could have taken the easy way out.

But instead you are making everyone suffer with you.

Because of you.

You wish you had taken the plunge then. You wish you'd had the courage to take it all away then.

No one would have known.

You would have been written off as just another one of those people that randomly disappeared. You would have left things open for your family to imagine where you were, living a life better than this.

A runaway to greener pastures.

Not a dead body buried in a watery grave.

You suppose, now that you didn't do it then, that you'd have a proper grave now.

No one ever really thinks about how they're going to go, not truly anyway. People think about what will happen at their funerals, what kind of music they'd want, if they'd want to be buried or cremated.

But people rarely think of their deaths outside of falling asleep one day and never waking again.

You suppose that must be peaceful too, in a way.

You wonder if people at the end of their lives know they are. You wonder if they go to sleep one day knowing they won't awaken the next.

You wonder if they have such clarity like you do now.

Your reflection turns back into you now, not that twisted version of Alexia. You but not you but not Alexia either and there's peace in that.

You sink into the bath, the water rising to your shoulders.

It's only precautionary really.

You know what's really going to take you, the pills you'd swallowed a scant few minutes ago.

But this is reassurance.

This is to make sure it sticks.

You were never made to last. A portrait of a young girl, a snapshot that never ages. Made to look pretty and stand in the background of things. Made to be unimportant, unassuming until you're needed.

There is clarity in this, you think as you glance at the door.

There is peace.

But you could still get up now, go downstairs to your aunt and explain. Tell her she needs to take you to the hospital to pump your stomach. Tell her that you need her like you needed her as a child when she took you away from Alexia for those few days and you felt more alive than you ever did before.

Than you ever did again.

But you don't.

It's too late now.

In a few minutes, a few hours, however long it takes, she will find you.

She will find you and your note.

You thought about writing to others but you couldn't put words to paper, you couldn't work out what you wanted to say.

But Tia Alba has a note because you know she loves you and you know she will blame herself for this.

You know she deserves to be told why you've done this, why her love alone couldn't keep you from imploding on yourself.

You wonder if she will show Alexia. You wonder if Alexia will wonder why she didn't get a note as well.

You wonder if Alexia will even care.

You wonder if she ever felt enough love for you for this to be heart breaking to her.

You don't think it matters though.

This isn't her choice.

It's yours.

And you've made your peace with it.

It's as easy as falling asleep.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[atsumutu]

it’s your scream that wakes him up. a shrill cry that has zoro jerking upright and latching onto the hilt of his swords. 

it takes him barely a minute to get to you, calling out your name as he enters your shared room where he finds you wide eyed and backed into a corner.

“what’s wrong?”

a quick scan of the room comes up empty for intruders so he returns his attention to you, closing the distance between you two with a few steps. 

there were intruders. just not the human kind. 

“c-cockroach!” you cry, pointing towards the corner of the room where sure enough, there’s a cockroach scuttering past. 

zoro turns to you, unimpressed. it’s a tiny thing that hardly called for this level of reaction. it most definitely didn’t warrant cutting his mid afternoon nap short. 

“seriously? i thought you were dying.” sleep still clings to his voice making it more rough than usual. 

your frenzied eyes move back and forth from the cockroach to the swordsman. “please zoro, if you love me you’ll-“ a squeal cuts off your pleading when another one decides to make an appearance. with nowhere left to run, you just push yourself further into the corner, shutting your eyes. 

before your scream comes to an end, zoro’s taken care of the situation, disposing off the offending creatures before returning to you. 

“god, such a crybaby.” he grumbles, pulling you towards him. a warm palm settles on your back, rubbing up and down between your shoulder blades. “it’s gone now, okay? it’s dead.” 

you peer at zoro through your lashes. “both of them?”

“yes, both of them.”

although his words comfort you, you seek further solace in his embrace, grabbing the fabric of his t shirt and nestling into his chest as he continues running up and down your back. 

a few seconds pass before zoro pulls back, remembering something. “i thought you were going out?” he asks, recalling the lively chatter over breakfast as the straw hats made plans to explore the port town they were docked in for the next few days. 

“I decided to stay in, thought you might appreciate some company.” you grin, mood perking up now that the cockroaches were dealt with. 

zoro rolls his eyes, sassy man that he is, and you suddenly find yourself thrown over his shoulder. 

“what i would appreciate is going back to my nap.” he huffs, making his way towards your shared bed. 

giggling, you give his firm bottom a few pats. “of course, my hero deserves some rest.”

zoro tolerates it all with a smirk playing on his lips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. when he reaches the end of the bed, he drops you onto the mattress, chuckling mildly at the disgruntled noise you make. he makes quick work of removing his swords, resting them on their usual spot against the bedside table, before joining you. 

it’s only when you’re tucked into zoro’s side that you pipe up again, lifting yourself to rest on your elbows, feeling playful. “zoro?”

he can already tell this isn't about to be a normal conversation just from the mirth dancing on your lips but he indulges you anyways.

“hm?”

“would you kill all the cockroaches in the world for me?”

zoro snorts at your absurd question. “that’s ridiculous.” he scoffs, fixing an arm behind his head and using the other to have you lie on his chest before answering, only because he knows how this goes with you. “yes, i would.” 

he’s rewarded with a chaste kiss on the lips and the melody of your laughter. its enough to fill his entire body with warmth. 

half an hour and several questions later, sleep still calls to him but his smile remains, content to humour you until your words begin to jumble into one and your breathing evens out into a familiar rhythm, convinced he could do this for an eternity with you.

[0silver0dreams0]

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader

Summarised: (your name) died in a horrific way, but she has been reborn in a new world, where the body she is trapped in is (your name) Targaryen, daughter of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, who took her own life after the death of her dear sister Helaena, who was very close to her.

Warning: This story contains descriptions of sexual violence and vulgar language, a small change of ages of the characters to make more sense.

Author's note: English is not my first language, please let me know so I can correct them.

You just want to relax at least one second or two, maybe end that series or read that special book. Being at university was tough but it was even tougher having a job too in a bar, where if a man showed even a minor interest in you will go he would comein you direction, visibly drunk, smelly and disgusting putting money in your uniform and saying obscenities. Some would just go and leave you alone if you were lucky, but others would try to follow you or even try to touch you, but you always managed to get away and escape them. But is seems that this time, you didn't. Now you were pulled into a lonely alley, next to the trash, with an obviously drunk man, with ginger hair, horrible teeth and a foul smell he gave you a ten-dollar tip but now he was trying to take your clothes off. Fighting and fighting, that's the only thing you could do, and the worst of all you just DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. How to getting yourself out of this situation? He was stronger and bigger than you, he had already taken you underwear off under your skirt until he freed one hand to unzip his jeans, so you put your only free hand in his eye, pressing as hard you could and with rage.

"Ahh! bloody bitch!"

When he let you go, you ran as fast you could, but he grabbed your ankle, causing you to hit your head. You felt dizzy, numb, and you couldn't move your body. Plus your vision was lost; you could only see the little mark on the wall, a dragon with more than one head or at least you thought could see.

"Hey! Get up! I'm not playing! GET UP, BITCH!"

You just heard him, you wished, you really wished that you could get up, but you couldn't. You felt water around your head and neck, but you could see now, it was not water, it was blood, your blood. Now it was cold or at least it was for you, and it was catching you, cold, and colder you felt. that bastard haad gone already, leaving you there, alone, cold, and without underwear. Maybe is a good idea to take a nap, isn't it? Maybe in the morning everything will be better, just maybe.

When you wake up, you are in your crib, hungry, and alone, so you did the only thing you could: you cried.

"What is wrong now,dear?" A woman came up, your mother, "You are hungry, right?" your mother look at you with a soft smile, taking out her breast, she gently brushed your hair as you fed.

You are her little baby, her replica. She wasn’t going to use you like she did with your brothers; you would have freedom in this harsh world, she often thought about your future. But one thing was certain: you weren’t going anywhere from her side. Before she could think of anything else. She left you in your crib, your stomach already full. Even though her other sons wasn’t like you, she loved them. It’s just that you were like her—you have her hair, her nose, her cheeks, and even her smile. You only have your big purple eyes, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were another piece of her.

Even though she didn’t like to admit it, you were her favourite. And even if she never said it, it was obvious to everyone. She fed you herself; you didn’t have a wet nurse like your siblings. She knew that, apart from Rhaenyra, you were the second favourite of the king, her husband. And then there was your sister Helaena, always watching you with her curious eyes, who was only one year older than you. As for Aegon, well, he would always be Aegon—jealous of all the attention and love you received. Of course, he loved you, but why? Why did you receive so much attention and affection? He felt like he had to beg for even a little, as if he didn’t have a grain of love, as if he wasn’t special.

A while later that night, the doors opened, letting in your dear father, followed by someone behind him—your older sister, Rhaenyra. With a smile on his lips and without greeting anyone, not even his wife, he went straight to your crib.

"How is the little one? It seems she’s resting just fine," he said, touching your cheek lovingly. "Everything is fine; she just needs her space, Your Grace," Alicent responded, her voice tense. "She looks like you, but I can feel the dragon inside her," said Rhaenyra, gazing down at you beside her father. "Yes, but I really need the two of you to go. She’s already asleep, and I don’t want anyone disturbing her and—" before the Queen could finish, Rhaenyra interrupted. "We aren’t making any noise. Just five minutes won’t hurt, being by her side."

"Please, Alicent, she’s just a baby. She doesn’t need space; we can stay here with her," the King responded, a touch of obviousness in his voice. "As you command, Your Grace," Alicent replied.

The only thing Alicent could do in that moment was clench her fists behind her back and bite the inside of her cheek, merely watching as her husband and Rhaenyra hovered over your crib, oblivious to the tension and rage on her face. You stirred lightly in your sleep, unaware of the silent battle above you.

"You’ll see, my Queen, she’ll be like me—like a dragon, big and strong," Rhaenyra said softly, her voice filled with affection as she gazed at you.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her frustration growing with each word Rhaenyra spoke about you and herself. How dare she compare herself to my daughter? Alicent thought bitterly. And how dare they act as if they know what’s best for her? You were her child, and you would never be like Rhaenyra, bearing bastards and shaming the name and duty of your house.

"Yes, she’ll be strong. But now, let’s leave her to rest. It’s late, and we don’t want to wake her," the King said, turning to Alicent. "Thank you, my dear. You’ve done well."

Alicent bowed her head, the polite gesture hiding her fury. "Of course, Your Grace."

As they turned to leave, Alicent stood by your crib, just the two of you once more, her mind racing. She would protect you, no matter what. You were her baby.

The next morning Alicent was awaken by the maids, who prepare her for the day, when she came back in her room were you were before, your crib was empty. Scared call one of the maids

"Where's my daughter?!" She asked with anxiety and tension clear in his voice. "I'm not sure, my Queen. I'll find out right away."

While the maid was gone, Alicent’s anxiety grew. She rushed out of the room, determined to find her daughter. Who dared take her baby away from her protection?

She searched everywhere, her worry mounting with each passing moment. It wasn’t until she reached the garden that she finally saw you—her little baby girl—in the arms of Rhaenyra, walking through the garden with her illegitimate sons, as if nothing had happened,as if they had just stolen her baby.

"How dare you?!" Alicent's pace quickened as she moved to take you into her arms. Before she could reach you, Rhaenyra stepped aside, still carrying you, blocking Alicent’s path.

“We were just taking a walk. She looked so bored and alone in her room, so I thought it would be nice for her to get a little sun,” Rhaenyra explained, gently brushing the little bit of hair you had.

“She’s not yours to decide that! She is my dau—” Alicent began, but before she could continue, Viserys cut her off. “Alicent! Stop right now. She is my daughter too, and I think it’s a good idea that she spends time with her sister and nephews.”

Defedent Alicent just look the little smirk that Rhaenyra gave her. Rhaenyra triumphantly thanked her father, and walked away with you and her little toddlers.

How could she protect you when you had been taken from her side so easily? Why did no one listen to her about what she wanted for her baby? Why was everyone so ignorant?

While Rhaenyra was just happy, feeling she had won against Alicent for you, her little sister, she imagined everything would be better if you were her daughter, her little baby. But Alicent always seemed to step in the way. Soon, you and Rhaenyra would be inseparable. Perhaps you could marry one of her sons, and in that way, you would be with her forever. She envisioned herself as your mother, but ultimately, she would be your mother, no matter what—regardless of Alicent’s rants or even your brothers.

Pt. 2 >> (coming soon)

Author's note: (your name) doesn’t know what will happen to everyone or what will happen to her in the other world.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand.  You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol. 

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head. 

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say? 

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns. 

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago. 

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death. 

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home. 

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did. 

In that way, you were a fortunate person. 

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions. 

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says. 

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels. 

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline. 

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck. 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.  

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically. 

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often. 

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck. 

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done. 

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving. 

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them. 

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later. 

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet. 

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you. 

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser.  Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you. 

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day. 

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush. 

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in. 

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside. 

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want. 

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous.                                                                                 There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings. 

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime. 

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him. 

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness. 

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side. 

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar. 

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief. 

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door. 

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day. 

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants. 

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time. 

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive. 

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association. 

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him. 

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs. 

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else. 

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work. 

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him. 

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop. 

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.  

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey. 

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?” 

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage. 

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin. 

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided. 

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away. 

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer. 

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his. 

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate. 

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.  

“My weakness—” 

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—” 

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes. 

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond. 

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion. 

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. 

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away. 

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn��t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?” 

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips. 

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses. 

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace. 

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you. 

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong. 

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.  

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high. 

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought. 

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side. 

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place. 

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back. 

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.  

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you. 

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands. 

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years. 

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room. 

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses. 

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head. 

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin. 

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.  

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans. 

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth. 

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down. 

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly. 

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. 

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there. 

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again. 

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds. 

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face. 

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.  

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt. 

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole. 

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you. 

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily. 

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens. 

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out. 

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind. 

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore. 

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back. 

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power. 

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?” 

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been. 

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit. 

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...” 

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines. 

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan. 

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance.  You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce. 

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll. 

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out.    As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him. 

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him. 

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts. 

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit. 

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.  

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm. 

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.  

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you. 

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you. 

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms. 

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you. 

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning. 

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties. 

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy. 

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft. 

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts. 

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round. 

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it. 

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.  

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic. 

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.  

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand. 

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you. 

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain. 

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly. 

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you. 

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow. 

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep. 

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants. 

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars. 

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could you do more cave boy Danny please? I really wanna see what you have in mind for the direction you want the prompt to take 👻

The first thing that registers for Danny is the flouting feeling that he often relates to flying. To him, it always felt like being in the water, perfectly balanced with his arms and legs spread out, letting himself be weightless and left up instead of fighting gravity.

He allows himself to be taken by the sensation. It's not often he can fly just for enjoyment, especially in recent months. The Waynes were far too observant.

It is only when he tries to move into a more comfortable position that he notices the restraint.

Unlike in the water, he does not move slightly up and down with waves so he knows he's not flying in his ghost form. There is nothing that ever hinders him, even if slightly.

This is a different sense of flying.

It's caused by medication.

Danny's eyes snap open, fearing men in white suits, and instead gets a teenager in black and red-leaning his head into his hands. There are no restraints or a containment pod, instead, there are soft warm blankets and a large bed.

There are beeps from machines and a tube inside his arm, tapped to the top of his elbow. He's not sure what is in it but he hopes it to help with his pain and not to....see what his DNA is made of or something.

Thoughts are....hard right now. Like trying to grasp sand but it only slips through his fingers. He is aware but not. Did someone steal his brain? He is usually a much better thinker.

"Brucie!" The red and black teenager grasps, throwing his head up. Danny squints at him, wondering if his black wings are alright. They didn't explain or even react to his movement.

Danny should contact Frostbite. His Yeti can fix up those right up.

"It's a cape" The other laughs but his voice is soft with sadness. Danny squints at him trying to pinpoint why he would be so sad. It might be because he hasn't shifted into a butterfly yet.

"I'm not a butterfly." The other laughs a little more amused.

Danny's eyes widened. Was the teenager a mind reader? That's a scary thought. What if he learned all of Danny's secrets?

"Brucie....who's Danny?"

Nah, Danny wasn't risking it. He was going back to sleep. He had to escape into his dreams that way they would be just as confused by them as he was. He chuckles to himself, knowing that they won't know what to do against the giant green dog that guarded his dreams.

"Goodnight Brucie. Enjoy your green dog"

________________________________________________

Hours later Danny wakes up again but this time he is much more lucid. He glances around the room, eyes flickering over the machine and wires attached to him with little care.

He can recognize the room the Waynes gave him with ease. Everything from the posters he had put up in an attempt to look like an average teenager- even if he did only put up posters of Batman and his crew- to the random nick-nacks he left behind in his escape.

It was a bit bare from when he took everything but it's still the room he called home for a while.

How in the world did he get back to Wayne Manor?

Danny needs to get out now.

Standing up on uneasy legs, he rips out the wires as fast as he can, uncaring of the loud alarms that ring the moment he does. He rushes for the door, vision blurry, having to force all of his will into getting one step and then another.

Danny is forced to take small pauses every now and then because his body simply can't handle moving too fast. His legs shake from the effort it takes to keep him up right but he pushes through anyway.

It's only when he manages to get to the door that he remembers his powers. Danny flexes his abs into a clench that he had come to associate with activating his powers. For a brief second, twin rings of light appear, but they only move z few centimeters before flickering out of sight.

It feels like all his energy fades with with.

Panting, he slides to the floor, his limbs feeling like lead and his head swimming with fog. His head falls to the side slightly, but he can see that the door is right in front of him.

Danny tries to reach for it but all that does is cause him to tumble over. There is a dull ache on his chin and chest, as he lays there on the ground breathing heavily, and small black dots start to appear in his vision.

He is likely going to pass out soon from his core's backlash. Danny can't afford that. Not until he's safely away from the Manor and back in his cave.

How in the world did he even get out of his cave? How did he end up here?

All questions he'll have to answer later.

Planting his forearms before himself and pushing one leg slightly to the side, Danny lifts himself up. He lets his legs relax, making sure they don't drag behind him, as he shifts one arm forward and then another, crawling towards the door in the army crawl his mom should him.

He makes it to the door in what feels like hours but is probably seconds. His hands reach upward to launch onto the door handle with all his strength. to heave it open.

There is a moment of pure unadulterated joy that he was able to get this far when Danny encounters a slight problem. There is a force field right inside the doorway.

He figures this out when he slams into an invisible wall. A startled yelp is ripped from his throat as he stumbles back, blinking owlishly at the flickering force field light that gleams and ripples mockingly at him.

For half a second, he thinks that one of his siblings had pranked him by putting up plastic wrap to have him walk into it.

Except for the man in a brown trench coat who is staring down at him with an open mouth.

"Brucie!" Bruce shouts pushing the stranger out of the way to kneel down. "What happened?"

"He activated my wares to keep out spirits....or in this case keep them in?" Trench coat is staring at Danny with a strange expression. It seems like a cross between intrigued and weary. "What are you?"

"I already told you, this is my counterpart from a different universe," Bruce says helping Danny into a sitting position. "We confirmed it the first night he was here. Both DNA and our multi-universal tests came back positive."

"Batty, I highly doubt you have the technology to test for dimension travelers-"

"I do. I used it on every Flash I have ever come across, every time I see them."

"......I know I call you batty but honestly Batty that's alarming."

Danny's eyes flicker between them before he activates his intangibility. It's an ability that doesn't require his full form, however just as he's starting to slip through Bruce's fingers his legs slam against a similar field just a few inches from the floor.

His knees pop loudly and Danny screeches.

"Brucie!"

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that. My wards are all around us. I put them up after finding your cave drenched in otherworld energy. Figured I was protecting you not capturing you."

Danny's yanks his legs up, trying to crawl away from the man. Bruce throws an arm in front of him and Danny foolishly presses himself into the older man's back, trying to shield away from the very alarmingly competent Ghost Hunter.

"You leave him alone. He is not a threat. He is just a civilian boy who happens to be a meta" Bruce's voice is low and dangerous. Danny has never heard him speak like that, even while dressed as Batman.

"Batty, whatever that is, it is certainly not a civilian let alone a boy. The amount of will it took just to keep my wards up by him hitting against them by accident is nothing to sneeze at." Trench Coat insists, pulling out a stone with a strange marking on it. Danny squints at the symbols and then gasps when he recognizes them.

ᛙᛁ⸜⸍ˎ⸜ᛍ╵╮ˎ◟ᛍ╵

It's Fenton Works spelled out in runes, medieval runes to be exact. Danny knows because Jazz and he had a bonding phase where they translated the family name and business. They would carve the symbols into hundreds of wood plates, to bond with their aunt.

"Yeah, even the Witch Boy flinched at this seal." The man smirks, holding out the plat as if he were warding off a spirit. Danny cowers more behind Bruce."You have no idea what I had to trade to get this"

"What the hell are you doing?" Tim's voice cuts through the tension. He is standing in the doorway, arms crossed and face dark. Behind him are the rest of the Waynes. None of them are looking friendly.

"Constantine." Bruce growls. "You are on thin ice. Backdown. Now".

"Not to be disrespectful Batty, but that thing is-"

"His name is Bruce Wayne, You will do well to remember it. " Damian cuts in. The blond man holding- his own carving?- tilts his head.

"But that's not your name is it?" He asks Danny, who swallows. He presses closer to Bruce and watches the Waynes slowly circle Constantine. It's obvious they are about to jump him and Danny-

Danny realized that he may have tried to run but that obviously wasn't going to work. He couldn't hide either, because they found him.

He needed to come clean.

"Wait." He says, his voice stilling the room in a way that only those with complete control. He scoots to the right leaving Bruce's protection. "Wait. He's right. I'm not Bruce Wayne. My name is Danny Fenton. I've been lying to you all. I'm sorry."

"Fenton?" Constantine repeats confused but he doesn't get to continue because Bruce pulls him back behind him.

"You aren't lying. We knew you had a different name, you're still my counterpart."

What.

"Yeah Danny, we kind of knew from day one that you were a version of Bruce even if it was under a different name" Dick laughs. "You told Tim your real name a few days ago as well as your universe coordinates. We already confirmed its location and Tim is working on a ship for you."

What

"We knew. You Bruce." Cass says looking right at Danny. "We since the day we found you."

That's....not right at all.

"No. I'm Danny Fenton. I'm not a version of Bruce. I can prove it!" He shouts, throwing his hand on Bruce's back. He makes his core glow, knowing no two people could ever have the same one unless they are variants of timelines.

That's why Dani's core won't glow with him but Dan will.

Constantine nods his head "A core glow test. That will prove that you aren't Bruce and are something that's pretending to be him. Claiming to be part of the King's family is also a bold claim."

"Look ma I never claim to be part of some King's family I only-"

Twin blue and green glows burst from Danny's and Bruce's chest and Danny's words die on his tongue. Constantine drops his hand in shock.

"See? You are Brucie!" Dick laughs as if he hadn't just shattered Danny's entire world viewpoint. He could only gape at the group of people before Bruce placed a hand on his head.

"I'm sorry. If I had known you knew where your world was located we would have gotten you home to your parents weeks ago. You must have been so scared. Don't worry. We'll have you home soon."

Again and with great feeling, he will say what!?

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I promise there will be fluff! The build up will be worth it :)

Summary: You're taken by strange men who claim you're their target. Will someone save you or will you save yourself?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Torture, blood, angst, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Fear. You had been through so much yet you were paralyzed with fear. They were all closing in on me, taking their time knowing there was no where for me to run. You glanced around one last time, hoping Azriel was just late and he would show up and save you. You needed him.

He wasn't there and he wasn't going to show up. Your mind was racing, this is it. This would be the end for me-

"Back away from her and I'll let you all live" a voice growled

As you turned your head you saw Cassian in a fighting stance. You couldn't move, couldn't fight, you felt cowardly. The fact that none of them looked worried, scared you further.

"Oh if it isn't the Prince of Bastards himself. You see, Cassian, we expected one of you to be here with her or try to save her. We assumed it would be the shadowsinger but you will have to do."

You felt lightheaded, looking at Cassian you realized he must feel that way as well from the slight swaying he was doing. He fell to his knees and that was when you realized they had released some type of gas to knock you both out. Before you could think more about it, darkness took over.

You woke in a dungeon. Your hands bound in chains above your head, you feet chained to the floor. Your head felt like someone poured cement in it.

"Sunshine..psst....hey wake up" Cassian was whispering at you.

Cassian. He had somehow shown up and tried to save me. Why had he been there? You'd think about that later. For now you needed to figure out where you were and how to get out.

"What's going on?" You asked Cass

"I think we're in the Autumn Court. None of them had any of the court symbols but it looked like their men. Do you have any idea what they want? They said you were their target?" He painfully spoke as if he was fighting to get the words out.

It was only then that you looked at him, truly looked and saw his bruised and bloody face.

He saw the recognition in your eyes and told you, "it's ok, you were still out so they wanted to play with me a little. Show me some hospitality, that's all." the sarcasm rolling off his tongue.

You heard the door creak and you both watched as three men walked in. Two you didn't recognize and the other was the leader.

"Ahhh how exciting! Our guest of honor has woken up" he said and sounded truly happy.

He walked straight over to you and back handed you so hard you saw stars. Cass screamed and tugged at his chains. The man watched Cass with a grin and continued his assault on me. He punched me anywhere he could, using me as if I was a training dummy. Then he nodded at his two cronies and they made their way over to me. They started to...no, please no. They were taking off your clothes.

"Oh calm down, we're not gonna touch you like that. We just need more access to your skin so I can view my handy work." He spoke

Cassian was screaming, "Cowards, hurt me instead. Leave her alone"

Once I was fully bare, they left. Cassian looked ashamed that he couldn't stop it. The blood from my face dripped to my body and the pain was too much, I welcomed the darkness, hoping I would just fade away.

I woke to someone taking my chains off of me and dragging me by my hair out of the room. Cassian was fighting against his chains as much as he could, yelling, growling at them.

"No, you son of a bitch, leave her alone! No!" you heard his continued pleas as you were thrown into another room.

The leader was here.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions. If you answer them, you might get to leave. If not, I'm going to torture you to get the answers and then kill you" He spoke as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Does Nyx have any special abilities?" he asked

You inhaled sharply. Why were the asking about Nyx?

"Hmm, lets try another, where are the keeping Nyx? Do they have any wards protecting him?" the man asked

You wouldn't tell him anything. You loved Nyx, Feyre, and Rhys with all your heart and would die protecting them. You were a coward when they kidnapped you, not even fighting back. But now you would hold you ground for the ones you loved.

"Don't feel like talking to me...? Don't worry, you will." He spoke lowly

He tortured you and beat you until you felt you were near death, then dragged you back to the dungeon and threw you in. His men chained you up again and left me.

"What did they do to you?" Cass spoke softly, not looking for an answer. He just couldn't believe his eyes. You were bruised and bleeding everywhere, wheezing like you had a couple broken ribs, and he could see the silent tears flowing from your eyes.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough, I'm so sorry, so sorry..." Cassian kept repeating as you let your head hang and faded away.

When you woke, you saw your friend had a few more bruises than before. No where near as bad as you but still bad.

"They asked me about Nyx" you squeaked out

"Hey, you keep holding on, we're going to get out of here. Do you hear me? I'm not letting you die here." Cass said as the man appeared again.

"Good Morning! We're going to try something new today. I'm going to hurt you - repeatedly - in front of him and we'll get him to break seeing as you don't like to talk to me. Oh, and I know where to stab to keep you alive so we can do this for a while" He said grabbing a long dagger and walking over to me.

You looked forward and saw the panic in your friend's eyes. No, this would only add more guilt to him.

"Cass look at me. I'm ok, it's gonna be ok. I promise I'm ok," You frantically spoke looking at the man chained in front of you, "Don't worry about me, I can take it, I'm ok-" you started screaming from the pain. He stabbed your back with his dagger.

You don't know how long this went on or how many times you were stabbed, you had blacked out for the fourth? fifth? time. When you woke, someone was taking your chains off again. As you waited to be dragged to the other room for more questioning, you heard Cass speak.

"No, I'm fine. Help her instead."

You felt strong arms wrap around you and lift you up. You slowly opened your eyes to see Lucien carrying you out of the dungeon.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

@darkbloodsly @xtreme-shipper @rcarbo1 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @anna-reader-blog @favsrachz @julesvanslutta @kitsunetori @i-am-infinite

[d1stalker]

Embers of Connection [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You're not like him. In fact, you're not like any of them. Maybe that's why he doesn't trust you-- why he doesn't want to trust you. But, time and time again, you prove him wrong.

Warnings: none really. lowkey enemies to friends to lovers.... kind of slow burn. fem!reader/afab!reader - maybe some grammatical errors

WC: 6.3k - MASTERLIST

The mansion was quiet as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the lawn. Inside, the halls of the Xavier Institute were just beginning to stir, the students slowly waking to another day of training, learning, and discovery. But in a room far removed from the rest of the school, a figure sat alone, her eyes fixed on the window, lost in memories of a past long gone.

You were not a mutant, at least not in the way the students at the school understood the term. You came from a lineage so ancient, so steeped in myth and legend, that even the oldest books could not fully capture the truth of your people—a race of beings who walked the earth with the grace and power of dragons, feared and revered in equal measure.

But that was long ago, before the rise of mutants, before the world had changed. Your people had been hunted, exterminated by those who feared the strength you carried within your veins. You had been just a child when it happened, too young to understand why your world was being torn apart. One of them, moved by pity or perhaps some deeper sense of guilt, had spared your life, hiding you away until the danger had passed.

You had wandered for years, alone and afraid, never staying in one place for too long. You learned how to conceal your wings, hide your sharp nails, and conceal your powers. The world had changed, and you had no place in it, no home to return to. It was by chance that you crossed paths with Charles Xavier, a man of immense power and wisdom, who saw in you not just a relic of a forgotten time, but a soul in need of protection and understanding. He had taken you in, offered you a place in his school, not as a student but as something else—something he himself could not fully define.

And so you stayed, a silent observer in a world that was not yours, learning from the shadows, watching as the young mutants trained and grew, honing their powers under Charles’ guidance. You were an enigma to them, a being from another time, another world. Some were curious, others wary, but none dared to challenge you.

Until Logan arrived.

You sensed his presence before you saw him, a raw, untamed energy that crackled through the air like a storm on the horizon. The students whispered about him, their voices hushed with a mixture of awe and fear. The Wolverine, they called him—a man who had seen more battles than he could count, whose past was as blood-soaked as it was mysterious.

You were in the garden when he first laid eyes on you. He was alone, his expression dark and brooding as he walked across the grounds, clearly uncomfortable in this place of peace and learning. His gaze swept over the students, then landed on you, standing apart from the others, your wings folded close to your back, your scales glinting in the morning light.

His eyes narrowed, and you could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the suspicion that curled like a shadow behind those intense, feral eyes. He approached, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You’re not a mutant,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

You met his gaze, unflinching. “No, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?” There was no warmth in his tone, only a cold curiosity.

“A survivor,” you replied steadily, though your heart beat faster at the memory of what you had survived. “My people were hunted to extinction long before you were born.”

Logan’s expression hardened, and he took a step closer, his stance challenging.

“So why are you here? What do you want?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him with the same intensity he gave you. “I could ask you the same thing. But I’m here because Charles offered me a place, a sanctuary. He’s curious about what I am… and he believes I need protection.”

“Protection from what?” Logan’s tone was edged with skepticism, as if he didn’t believe you were a threat to anything or anyone.

“From the world,” you answered simply. “And perhaps… from myself.”

He scoffed, the sound harsh and dismissive. “You don’t know what it’s like, being a mutant. You’re just hiding here, playing along, pretending to understand.”

You bristled at his words, your wings twitching with the urge to unfurl, to show him just how much power you held within you. But you held back, staying calm.

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be the last of your kind, to watch everything you’ve ever known be destroyed. We all have our battles. Just because mine are different doesn’t mean they’re any less real.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none to be found, and that seemed to unsettle him more than anything.

“Just stay out of my way,” he growled, turning sharply and walking away without waiting for a response.

You watched him go, a mixture of anger and sadness swirling in your chest. You had known the moment you met him that Logan would be a challenge, a force of nature that would not be easily swayed or understood. But you hadn’t expected the sting of his words, the way they cut deep into the wounds you had thought long healed.

Over the next few months, you and Logan avoided each other as much as possible. He made it clear he didn’t trust you, and you made it equally clear you didn’t care for his attitude. The students quickly picked up on the tension between you, giving you both a wide berth whenever you were in the same room.

But Charles Xavier, ever the strategist, saw something neither of you did—a potential for growth, for understanding, if only you were forced to confront each other. So, when a mission came up that required both your skills, he sent you out together, despite your protests.

The mission was simple in theory—retrieve an artifact from a group of rogue mutants who had stolen it. But from the moment you and Logan set foot in the field, it was clear that working together was not going to be easy.

Logan, used to working alone, resisted your attempts to coordinate, charging ahead without a plan and nearly jeopardizing the mission in the process. You, trained in patience and strategy, found his reckless approach infuriating, and the two of you clashed at every turn.

The mission was ultimately successful, but it came at a cost—your mutual respect for each other (well, whatever had existed of it to begin with). The animosity between you only deepened, cementing your status as strangers within the walls of the school.

---

Enveloped in the forest's ancient embrace, you walked among towering trees that stood like silent sentinels. Their gnarled branches wove together, forming a dense canopy that swallowed most of the light. Cool, damp air hung heavy with the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves. Each step sank into the soft, spongy ground, the stillness occasionally interrupted by the rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird.

You moved with purpose, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. Logan walked a few paces behind you, his expression as unreadable as ever. Charles had sent the two of you on this mission with little more than a vague explanation, and the tension between you had only grown as you ventured deeper into the wilderness.

“You sure this is the right way?” Logan’s voice broke the silence, gruff and tinged with impatience.

You didn’t bother turning to face him. “I’m sure.”

He let out a low grunt, clearly not satisfied with your answer. “I still don’t get why Xavier sent me with you. Seems like you could’ve handled this on your own.”

You bit back a retort, knowing that engaging in another argument wouldn’t get you anywhere. “Maybe he thought you could learn something.”

“Learn what?” Logan scoffed. “How to wander aimlessly in the middle of nowhere?”

You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “You’re here because Charles thinks you need to understand what I’m dealing with. This isn’t just another mission, Logan. It’s personal.”

His gaze hardened, but there was a flicker of something else—something softer—beneath the surface. “And what exactly are you dealing with?”

You hesitated, unsure how much you wanted to reveal. The memories of your past were painful, buried deep for a reason. But you knew that if you were going to work together, he needed to know.

“There’s an ancient temple hidden in this forest,” you began, “It’s said to hold a clue—something that could lead me to the mutants who destroyed my people. I’ve been searching for answers for years, and this is the closest I’ve ever come.”

“And you think finding this clue will give you what you need?”

You nodded, the weight of your words pressing down on you. “I have to believe that it will. My people were wiped out—hunted down and killed because of what we were. I’m the last of my kind, and I need to know why.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on yours. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and hoarse, almost hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose everything. To have your whole world ripped away from you. But revenge… it doesn’t bring peace.”

“This isn’t about revenge,” you said firmly, though part of you knew it wasn’t entirely true. “It’s about closure. About understanding.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told you he understood more than he was letting on. He turned away, resuming his trek through the forest, and you followed, the tension between you easing slightly.

The journey was long and arduous, the dense undergrowth making progress slow. The further you went, the darker the forest became, the ancient trees blocking out the sun entirely. It was as if the forest itself was warning you to turn back, but you pressed on, driven by the need to find the temple.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you reached a clearing. In the center stood the temple, its stone walls covered in vines and moss, its entrance a dark, gaping maw that seemed to swallow all light. The air around it was thick with an ominous energy, as if the very ground was infused with the memories of the past.

“This is it,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Logan.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the temple. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

With that, you stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the temple. The air inside was cool and damp, the stone walls slick with moisture. The only light came from the narrow beams of sunlight that managed to filter through cracks in the ceiling, casting long shadows across the floor.

The deeper you went, the more the oppressive feeling grew. You could feel it in your bones, a sense of foreboding that made your skin crawl. But you didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, even as the darkness closed in around you.

Finally, you reached the heart of the temple. In the center of the chamber stood an ancient altar, covered in strange markings that seemed to pulse with a faint, eerie aura. But what caught your attention was the object lying on the altar—a small, intricately carved stone, glowing with a soft, ethereal light. You found yourself moving towards it subconsciously, almost in a trance.

Logan hung back, his senses on high alert. “Be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

You nodded, reaching out to take the stone. The moment your fingers touched it, a surge of energy shot through you, and you gasped, the memories flooding back in a rush.

You saw your people, the Draconic, living in harmony with nature, their wings glinting in the sunlight, their scales shimmering like jewels. But then came them, their faces twisted with fear and hatred, their powers unleashed in a torrent of destruction. You saw the fires, heard the screams, felt the pain of loss as your world crumbled around you.

And you saw them—the creatures who led the charge, who ordered the slaughter. Their faces were burned into your memory, and now, thanks to the stone, you had the knowledge you needed to track them down.

But your moment of revelation was short-lived. As you turned to show Logan the stone, you noticed something else—a series of dark shapes lying dormant against the walls of the chamber. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what they were.

Dozens, hundreds of them, the ones responsible. Their bodies encased in some sort of stasis, their forms twisted and unnatural. These were the ones who had destroyed your people, the ones who had brought death and destruction to your world. And now they were here, waiting.

“We need to leave. Now,” you whispered urgently, your heart pounding in your chest.

Logan’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the sleeping mutants. “Agreed. Let’s get out of here before they wake up.”

You moved quickly, retracing your steps toward the entrance. But as you passed one of the mutants, Logan accidentally brushed against it, his claws scraping against the stone. The sound echoed through the chamber, and you froze, your heart skipping a beat.

The creatures began to stir, their eyes snapping open, glowing with an unnatural light. Groans and snarls filled the air as the creatures awoke. Panic surged through you, the sight of the mutants awakening bringing up old, buried fears. You didn’t need to be told twice. You bolted for the entrance, Logan close behind, but the mutants were faster, their rage propelling them forward.

“Go!” Logan urged, grabbing your arm as the enemies began to move toward you.

But, in a effort to delay their advances, you had an idea. A surge of primal instinct took over, and you felt a transformation deep within you. Your eyes flashed, glowing with a fierce, emerald shade as they narrowed into slitted dragon-like orbs.

With a deep breath, you summoned the power of your ancestors. Flames erupted from your mouth, a torrent of blazing fire that swept across the chamber. The first wave of predators got caught in the flames, their forms writhing in the intense heat. The ancient stone walls glowed with the reflected light, casting long, flickering shadows. Now was your only opportunity for escape.

You unfurled your wings, the leathery membranes catching the air as you leaped into flight, grabbing Logan’s arm and dragging him with you. The temple walls blurred past as you flew through the corridors, the remaining mutants hot on your trail.

“Hang on!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

Logan didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the creatures chasing you. They were relentless, their fury palpable as they closed in, their powers crackling in the air around them. Logan clung to you, feeling a mix of awe and frustration. The cool wind whipped around but inside, he felt the sting of helplessness. He had always prided himself on his physical prowess, his ability to fight, to survive. Yet here he was, carried like a child by someone he had barely trusted.

Whatever these predators were, they were fast in their pursuit. However, you were faster. You burst out of the temple and into the open air, your wings propelling you forward with all the strength you could muster. They followed, but they were no match for your speed.

You swooped low, diving into the dense forest below, weaving through the trees with precision. Logan felt his his claws digging into your scales, but you barely noticed, your focus entirely on evading the threat. Watching the forest shrink beneath him, he felt a deep sense of inadequacy. He had been the one to get them into this mess, and now, instead of being the hero or the savior, he was reduced to a mere passenger. The raw power you displayed was breathtaking, but it also highlighted just how little he had known about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you lost them. You landed in a small clearing, breathing heavily, your wings trembling from the exertion. Logan released his grip, dropping to the ground beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened settling over you. The danger had passed, but the tension remained, a lingering reminder of how close you had come to disaster. 

Logan was the first to break the silence. “You saved my ass back there.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “You would’ve done the same.”

He nodded, his gaze meeting yours. “Maybe. But I didn’t know you could do all that. The wings, the speed… the power. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than I thought.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I’m just trying to survive.”

“You’re more than that,” he said quietly. “You’re a fighter. And I… I respect that.”

The tension between you shifted, the animosity that had defined your relationship beginning to melt away. You saw Logan in a new light, not just as a stubborn, solitary warrior, but as someone who understood pain and loss, someone who had his own demons to face. And as he stared at you, he caught a glimpse of the fierce determination that drove you. In that look, he saw not just a fellow X-Men but a formidable warrior with her own battles and her own story. He understood now that you were more than he had given you credit for.

“Thanks,” you said softly, “For helping me. For trusting me.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “We’re a team now, right? So let’s do this together.”

And in that moment, something shifted between you. It wasn’t quite friendship, but it was a start—an understanding, a shared sense of purpose. You smiled. 

---

A few days later you and Logan find yourselves on the balcony of the mansion, taking in the peaceful surroundings. Logan leans against the wooden railing, his eyes lost in the horizon.

“Never really get used to these quiet times, do you?” Logan mutters, taking a drag from his cigar.

You sit beside him, your posture relaxed but alert. “It’s a stark change from the chaos, that’s for sure. But I guess we need these moments to recharge.”

Logan exhales a plume of smoke, glancing over at you. “Recharge, huh? I guess you really did a number back there. Flying us out, unleashing fire… It made me rethink a lot of things.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? What are you thinking now?”

He shifts, his expression thoughtful. “I thought you were just another oddity at the school. But seeing you in action… You’ve got a lot more going on than I realized. There’s a strength there I didn’t see before.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you.”

Logan shrugs, a faint grin on his face. “I guess we both have our surprises.”

You laugh lightly. “Seems like it. I’ve seen a different side of you too. You’re not just the gruff loner I thought you were.”

Logan’s eyes soften. “Yeah, well, I suppose I’ve got my own stuff to work through. You’re not the only one with a past.”

“You’re right,” you say, your tone gentle. “We all carry our burdens.”

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, the evening’s calm settling in. Logan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, crumpled piece of paper. He unfolds it carefully, revealing a sketch of the ancient temple you explored. It captures the essence of the place—its grandeur and hidden menace.

“I drew this after our mission,” Logan says, offering it to you. “Thought you might like it.”

You accept the sketch, your fingers tracing the lines. “It’s really good. Thank you. No one’s ever taken the time to understand the significance of these places to me before.”

Logan chuckles, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess we’re not so different after all. We’ve both got our own battles”

“Yeah. And we’re fighting them together now.”

Logan’s grin widens slightly. “Let’s try not to make a habit of almost getting killed, though.”

---

Realizing the potential he saw in you and Logan wasn’t a hoax, Charles assigned you to more missions together, hoping to strengthen the bond between you and harness your combined skills. Each mission brought its own challenges, but the respect and understanding you had developed for one another made you an unstoppable duo. 

There was a palpable shift in the air during these joint ventures. Logan’s gruff exterior softened around you, and his trust in your abilities grew. You, in turn, found yourself relying on his raw strength and experience more than you ever expected. The missions, though often intense, became a testament to your growing synergy.

One day, however, Charles decided to send Logan on a mission without you. The decision came with good intentions—Logan needed to work independently to regain his confidence and show that he could handle situations on his own. He was sent to investigate a lead on a dangerous group of mutants that had surfaced. It should’ve been routine. In and out, minimal resistance, standard extraction. But nothing about your life ever goes according to plan, and this time is no exception.

The distress call came through late at night, jarring you awake from a restless sleep. The voice on the other end was strained, panicked. Logan’s voice. You had never heard him like that before.

“They got me,” he had said, the roughness in his voice edged with something you hadn’t heard from him before—fear. “Don’t know who they are, but they’re… strong. Can’t fight ’em off.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you wide-eyed and breathless in the darkness.

Now, standing on the deck of a small boat cutting through choppy waters, you replay those words in your mind, over and over. The coordinates he managed to send you led to a remote island, far off any known maps—a place of whispers and legends, rumored to be inhabited by creatures of immense power and terrifying abilities. Mutants, yes, but something else too. Something different.

Cyclops-like mutants. You remember the stories from the older X-Men, of a time when creatures with a single, glowing eye roamed the earth. You had been too busy mourning the loss of your people to be aware of what else was going on around the world. They had been driven to extinction, or so everyone thought. But it seems that, just like the ones who destroyed your kind, they had simply been lying in wait.

You glance at the island now coming into view, its rocky cliffs rising sharply from the water, shrouded in mist. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you sense the power emanating from the place, the dark, ancient energy that pulses like a heartbeat beneath the surface.

There’s no turning back. You tighten your grip on the wheel, the wind whipping through your hair as you steer the boat toward a small, concealed cove. It’s time to see just how far your powers can take you.

You drop anchor in the shallows, the boat rocking gently as you strip down to your tactical suit. The fabric clings to your body, designed to be lightweight and flexible, perfect for what you’re about to do. With a deep breath, you dive into the water, feeling the cool embrace of the ocean as you slip beneath the surface.

As soon as you’re fully submerged, the change begins. Your skin hardens, taking on a faint shimmer as it transforms into scales. Your fingers and toes elongate, webbing forming between them, allowing you to cut through the water with incredible speed. Your vision sharpens, the murky depths of the ocean becoming clear as day.

You swim toward the island, your movements silent and fluid, a predator in your own right. The water is your domain, and you move through it with ease, your body perfectly adapted to the environment. You can feel the power coursing through your veins, the ancient, draconic energy that makes you who you are. It’s exhilarating, but you keep it in check, focusing on the task at hand.

The cove is narrow, hidden by jagged rocks that would tear apart any normal vessel. But you slip through them effortlessly, the scales of your skin providing protection against the sharp edges. You surface silently, peering over the edge of the rocks to get a better look at the island’s interior.

It’s as eerie as you imagined, a landscape of twisted trees and dark shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. And there, in the center of it all, is a massive stone fortress, old and crumbling, yet still formidable. It’s clear that the cyclops mutants have made this place their home, and it’s equally clear that Logan is being held inside.

Your heart clenches at the thought of him, trapped and possibly tortured, and you have to force yourself to remain calm. Logan is tough—one of the toughest people you know—but even he has his limits. You have to reach him before those limits are tested too far.

With a final deep breath, you haul yourself out of the water, your body instantly adapting to the new environment. Your skin returns to its normal state, the webbing between your fingers and toes retracting as you prepare to move on land. You move quickly, keeping to the shadows as you approach the fortress. 

The entrance is heavily guarded, as you expected. Two massive cyclops mutants stand watch, their single glowing eyes scanning the area with unnerving precision. You study them for a moment, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. They’re strong, undoubtedly, but you have the advantage of surprise and agility. You crouch low, waiting for the right moment. When one of the guards shifts slightly, turning his attention away from the entrance for just a second, you make your move. In a blur of motion, you spring forward, your claws extending as you strike. The first guard doesn’t even have time to react before your claws rip through his throat, silencing him instantly.

The second guard is more alert, swinging a massive fist toward you, but you’re already moving, ducking beneath his arm and driving your claws into his chest. His eye widens in shock before the light fades, and he collapses to the ground with a heavy thud.

You don’t waste any time, slipping inside the fortress before anyone else can notice. The interior is as dark and foreboding as the exterior, with narrow, twisting corridors that seem to go on forever. You move silently, your senses on high alert as you navigate the labyrinth of stone and shadow.

You find Logan in the deepest part of the fortress, chained to a wall in a small, dimly lit cell. He looks battered but not broken, his eyes narrowing in defiance as he glares at the door, ready to fight anyone who comes through it. But when he sees you, his expression softens, a mixture of relief and concern flickering in his gaze.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles.

“Would’ve been here sooner if you hadn’t let yourself get caught,” you retort, already working on the chains that bind him.

He snorts. “Didn’t exactly have a choice. These bastards are stronger than they look.”

You nod, your expression serious as you focus on freeing him. “I know. But we’ll figure a way out. Together.”

Logan’s chains fall to the ground with a heavy clatter, and he flexes his wrists, testing his strength. “Together? Sounds good to me.”

You help him to his feet, steadying him as he takes a moment to regain his balance. He’s clearly been through hell, but he’s still standing, still fighting. It’s one of the things you’ve always admired about him, even when you couldn’t stand his attitude.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he mutters, his voice low and dangerous.

You nod, but before you can move, a deep rumbling sound fills the air, the walls vibrating with the force of it. The ground beneath your feet trembles, and you realize with a sinking feeling that the cyclops mutants know you’re here.

“Time to go,” you say urgently, grabbing Logan’s arm and pulling him toward the exit.

The two of you move quickly, navigating the twisting corridors with practiced ease. But it’s not long before the mutants catch up to you, their heavy footsteps echoing through the fortress as they close in. You can hear their growls, low and menacing, and you know you’re in for a fight.

Logan doesn’t need any encouragement. He’s already on the prowl, his claws extended as he charges toward the nearest mutant. The two of you fight side by side, a lethal combination of strength and raw power. Logan’s claws tear through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency, while you use your claws and wings to strike with precision and speed.

But the cyclops mutants are relentless, their sheer size and strength making them formidable opponents. For every one you take down, two more seem to take their place. The battle is intense, the air filled with the sound of clashing steel and guttural roars.

In the midst of the chaos, one of the mutants lands a heavy blow to Logan’s side, sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. Your heart lurches as you see him go down, and something inside you snaps. A fierce, draconic roar escapes your lips as your wings unfurl, their scales gleaming in the dim light. Your body shifts, your scales hardening as your claws grow longer and sharper. 

You launch yourself at the mutants with a ferocity you’ve never felt before, your claws tearing through their defenses like paper. Your wings whip through the air, knocking them off balance, while your scales protect you from their attacks. It’s a dance of death, a whirlwind of power and accuracy that leaves the mutants reeling.

From his place on the ground, Logan watches as you take down the last of the cyclops mutants, your body glowing with the aftereffects of your transformation. You stand amidst the carnage, your chest heaving with exertion, but there’s a fire in your eyes that hasn’t been there before—a fire that burns with a fierce determination to protect the man you care about.

“Damn,” Logan mutters as he pushes himself to his feet, wincing slightly. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

You can’t help but smile, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “What if you already are on my bad side?” you tease, though there’s no real bite to your words.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “Fair enough.”

With the mutants defeated, you and Logan make your way back through the fortress, the oppressive atmosphere beginning to lift with each step you take. As you reach the outer wall, you glance up at the sky, the mist beginning to clear as dawn approaches. You can see the small boat you came in anchored in the cove, waiting to take you both to safety. Logan follows your gaze, then looks back at you, his expression unreadable.

“Ready to get out of here?” you ask, your voice low as you take a step closer to him.

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “More than ready.”

Without another word, you extend your wings, the powerful muscles flexing as they unfurl to their full span. Logan watches you with admiration and something else, something deeper that he’s not ready to voice just yet. You wrap your arms around his waist, and with a powerful beat of your wings, you lift off the ground, carrying him into the air.

The flight back to the cove is short, but it’s enough time for you to feel the tension in Logan’s body start to ease as the wind rushes past. You land gracefully on the deck of the boat, setting Logan down gently before retracting your wings. He lingers for a moment, his hands still on your shoulders, as if reluctant to let go.

“Thanks for the save… Again” he murmurs.

“Anytime,” you reply, your heart skipping a beat at the closeness between you. You pull away slightly, not wanting to dwell on the feeling too much, and move to untie the boat from the anchor.

Logan takes a seat on the bench, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. You’re aware of his gaze as you work, but you try to focus on the task at hand. The sooner you get back to the school, the sooner you can both recover from this ordeal.

The boat cuts through the water smoothly, and the silence between you is comfortable, the need for words unnecessary. Logan leans back, closing his eyes as he lets the sun warm his face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the lines of his face, the slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

You’re almost back at the mainland when Logan finally breaks the silence. “You know,” he says, his voice deep and filled with thought, “I’ve been through a lot in my life. Seen a lot, done a lot. But I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

Your hands still on the wheel, and you turn to face him fully, your heart beating a little faster.

“What do you mean?”

He opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’re strong, tougher than anyone I’ve ever known. But it’s more than that. You… you don’t give up on people, even when they don’t deserve it. Even when they’re as messed up as me.”

“Logan,” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Let me finish,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re always there, always fighting, and I… I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that. For everything you’ve done, not just today, but since the day we met.”

You’re at a loss for words, the sincerity in his voice taking you by surprise. Logan isn’t the type to open up easily, to admit to needing anyone. But here he is, doing just that, and it makes your chest tighten with emotion.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you finally manage to say, “I did what anyone else would’ve done.”

He gives you a look, one that says he doesn’t believe that for a second. “No, you didn’t. You did what you do best. You fought for me. And I think… I think it’s time I stop fighting against this.”

“Against what?” you ask, though you have a feeling you already know.

Logan takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he’s about to say. “Against what I feel for you. Against this… connection between us. I’ve been pushing it away, trying to ignore it, but I can’t do that anymore.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his words sink in. You’ve felt it too, the pull between you and Logan, the way your hearts seem to beat in sync when you’re together. But you never thought he felt the same way, never dared to hope that he could see you as more than just a teammate.

“Logan, I…” You struggle to find the right words, the ones that will convey everything you’re feeling.

“I feel it too. I have for a long time. Since the temple. But I was scared. Scared that it would ruin what we have, that it would make things complicated.”

“Things are already complicated,” he says with a wry smile, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The boat slowly comes to a stop upon the reaching the shore, but you don’t make a move to get out. “So… what do we do now?”

Logan reaches out, taking your hand in his, the roughness of his skin a comforting contrast to the softness of the moment. “We see where this goes. And if it gets too complicated, we deal with it together. Like we always do.”

Logan’s eyes search yours, his gaze tender and filled with unspoken promise. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It’s a gentle touch, a careful exploration of the emotions that have been building between you.

You respond with equal tenderness, your hand still in his as the kiss deepens. The kiss is more than just a physical act; it’s a melding of hearts, a silent declaration of the feelings you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, a shared smile lighting up your faces, and for the first time in a long time, the future seems less daunting.

-----------------

A/N: Thanks for reading! I've been lurking for so long and have finally decided to start writing again. I think I gotta write smut or something after this - it was sooo dramatic and for what LOL.