#slight angst

[s0lidar1ty]

You know Rafe loves you but it didn't feel like that sometimes. It felt like he loved his drugs or his friends or anything that wasn't you more.

You didn't realize you were pulling away from him. Instead of greeting him at the door like you always did, you stayed in bed. You didn't run over and start kissing him all over the face. You didn't ask him about his day. You didn't cook for him like you always did, you made food for yourself. If he was hungry, he'd eat. Which he stopped doing. Most times you didn't even want to stay home but putting on an outfit and getting ready just took more energy than you had in you. 

…

Rafe noticed almost immediately when you changed. When you stopped loving him like you did before. There were no more late night talks, no more talks about his day or even yours, no more “I love you”’s. 

He figured you were just going through some stuff that you didn't want him to know about yet. He didn't think anything of it but of course there was a voice in the back of his head. He didn't like whatever was going on between you two.

So he got clean.

“Princess?,” Rafe calls as he walks inside your shared apartment. He takes off his shoes and you don't answer. He walks to the bedroom and opens the door. You're awake, just on your phone. “I called for you,” he said softly and sat on the bed.

“I don't really feel like talking,” you mutter.

He takes your phone and puts it down in front of you. “What's happening to us?”

You sit up and hold your knees to your chest. “I don't know.. it feels like you're pulling away from me.”

Rafe shakes his head. “I feel like you're doing the same thing, like, you don't love me anymore.”

“I do love you, Rafe, and the only reason I've been acting the way I do is because it's like you don't wanna be home. You're never home now, you're always out with Topper or Kelce or you're getting high or drunk.”

Rafe sighs and shakes his head. “I'm working on getting clean, actually,” he mumbles.

You stare at him for a moment, thinking that he was making a joke of some sort. But he wasn't. He was actually trying to clean for you. “Are you really?” you say softly.

He nods. “Yeah. i wanted better for you. I know I’ve been acting off because of the drugs so I wanted to change. I’m sorry I neglected you.”

You pull him into a hug and bury your head in his neck. “I love you.”

He puts you in his lap and wraps his arms around your waist. “I love you.”

[cynical-rain-frog]

Dating Blade! (Gn!reader)

School AU, Characters are almost definitely OOC, I'm sorry for the abrupt ending, this is technically a part two but you don't need to read the first part. Enjoy <3333333

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When you first started dating, Blade was awkward around you. Even though you two had been close friends before dating, he still felt awkward around you after your confession. (You still joke about the confidence you had to be the one to confess) He is much quieter at first and stares at you a lot more. But things warm up quickly soon enough

Now, he holds your hand in the hallways. He walks with you to your next class even if it's the opposite direction of his own. He picks you to be on his team in P.E. He shares his lunch if you forget yours. He offers his shoulder when you feel tired. 

You are also quite the romantic; you pass him funny notes during class, you go with him to his club, you comfort him on his bad days, and as far as you've seen, you're the only one who has made him laugh. But something does sit right with Blade after a recent change

One of his old friends moved back and now is in a few of your classes. You two hit it off and when Blade saw you talking to him, he felt irked. It's not that he doesn't trust you, He just doesn't trust his old friend, Jing Yuan. 

He hates it when Jing Yuan looks at you a little too long, when he “accidentally” brushes against your arm. When he sits at the desk next to you before Blade can. 

The day when Blade finally snaps, He is waiting outside your classroom, the bell has rang and he is going to walk with you to lunch. But when you step out of the room, youre talking with Jing Yuan. Blade follows Jing Yuan’s gaze…. Directly to your lips. 

Blade can almost feel the shift in his personality. Something takes over him and he walks up behind you and squeezes you close against him while glaring at Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan smirks and stares back at Blade. 

“Bladie?” 

Your voice breaks the staring contest between them. Blade whispers in your ear without ever looking away from Jing Yuan.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yes…? Is everything okay?”

“Can we go somewhere else for it?”

“Sure…?”

Blade turns you around and basically pulls you along with him. You have to almost jog to keep up with him. 

When you finally get to a secluded area you are extremely concerned. 

“Blade? what’s going on?”

Blade seems to calm down a little bit and you can practically see the tension leave his shoulders. Even so, he is still upset. He turns around and leans down to place his forehead on your shoulder. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

 His voice is raspy and quiet,“I don't like Jing Yuan. The way he interacts with you makes me upset”

“I see… I will set some boundaries with him then.” 

Blade looks up at you with eyes widening slightly. 

“Huh? You'll just.. do that…? Immediately? No questions asked?”

“Yeah, of course!”, You take his hands and interlock his fingers with yours,”I trust you.”

“...okay.”

“Okay.”, 

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[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Panic at the Disco

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: Maybe slight panic attack, insinuated sexual harassment/assault

Part 2

Masterlist

You rush through the club in a hurry, bumping into God knows how many people as you search for the exit. The hot, stuffy air makes it even more difficult to breathe as you keep pushing through the crowd. You can feel the wetness of your tears run down your cheeks as you reach the exit, nearly running into the bouncer checking IDs outside. You stand close to him as you wipe your cheeks and sniffle, trying to calm yourself down while you rummage through your purse in search of your phone. Taking a deep breath, you call your brother.

You wait impatiently as the phone rings. He doesn’t answer, so you call again. And again. Eventually, after three tries, the phone is picked up. 

“Hello? Max?” You say rushedly.

You hear some noise on the other side. In your frenzy, you don’t realise it’s not your brother, not from the mere grumpy hello the phone is answered with.

“Can you come pick me up? Please?” The sheer panic you’re experiencing is clear in your voice. Lando can even hear your sniffling through the phone as you wipe your hand under your nose. 

“Y/N? Is that you? Are you crying?” He asks, much more awake now as he sits up from his position on the couch.

“Who’s this? Lando?” You realise now that you hear him speak; it's your brother’s best friend – to your frustration.

“Yes.”

“Why are you answering my brother’s phone?” You ask annoyed.

“We were just hanging out, he fell asleep and—”

“You know what – it doesn’t matter. Can you tell him to come pick me up please?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, uhm, it’s called Palace, I think.” You sniffle. “You’ll send him to get me?” You ask hopefully.

“I’ll come get you myself. I’m just putting my shoes on, I’ll be there in a bit,” he says, putting your brother’s phone on speaker mode and stepping into his shoes.

“Lando you don’t have to come, just tell Max to come pick me up, please. I need him right now,” you say, frustrated that Lando wants to come. He’s not who you want and need at this moment; you need someone who you can trust, who’ll protect you and make you feel safe after what just happened. You need your brother, a close friend, or maybe even your father, but not Lando. Why can’t he understand that? You can feel your tears welling up again in frustration.

Lando ignores you, however. “Are you safe right now? You should try to find a group of people or something, stick to them until I get there, okay?”

“Lan—” He cuts you off, in a rush to get to you. 

“Do you want to stay on the phone? I’m getting in the car right now, I’ll be there in, like, eight minutes.”

“Lando, just send Max, please.”

“I’m already in the car. Do you want me to stay on the line, or not?” You hear the car revving in the background.

You sigh. Nevertheless, you’re relieved he’s on his way and you don’t have to stay here much longer. “That’s not necessary, Lando. I’m with the bouncer right now. Just come quick, please?” You’ve given up on the idea that your brother might come, Lando’s very much set in his ways.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lando says firmly before hanging up.

Although you and Lando aren’t the best of friends, you get along well enough. Regardless, you get caught up in discussions quite regularly; both of you are passionate and stubborn in your opinions – it rarely happens that you and Lando do not end up being separated by your brother or a mutual friend. However, that you know exactly how to push each other's buttons doesn’t mean Lando doesn’t care about you. In fact, the opposite is true. Although he would never admit it, Lando has liked you for quite a while and cares for you deeply, even though he doesn’t generally show his feelings. And so, when you call him (well, not him specifically, but that doesn’t matter) crying and upset, he worries about you. He could’ve woken up your brother, who you obviously would have preferred over him, but he wants to be the one who’s there for you. He wants to be the one who protects you and keeps you safe – better yet, the one who makes you feel safe, if he could ever accomplish such a thing.

Lando exceeds his own expectations when he arrives at the nightclub in under five minutes. Already spotting you standing with the big, bulky bouncer, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm in the cold, late night (or early morning) breeze. He carelessly parked his car on the side of the road, barely turning on the hazard lights before exiting the car. 

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He jogs towards the club entrance, concern showing on his face.

You lifted your head at the familiar voice yelling your name. Quickly thanking the bouncer who kept you company, you rushed over to the familiar boy. You had never been so happy to see Lando.

He pulled you into his arms as soon as you were within his reach. Cradling your head and brushing your hair with one hand, while the other pulled you closer by your waist. Although you initially wanted your brother to come, this was good too – you’d even go as far as to say you were enjoying it. Despite your differences, Lando’s presence (more specifically, his strong arms holding you tight) made you feel at ease and calmed you down. He relieved the tenseness of your body and you relaxed in his hold. Hiding your face in his neck and fisting the fabric of his shirt, you nestled yourself comfortably in Lando’s body and exhaled the breath you had been holding.

He buried his nose in your hair on the top of your head, breathing in your scent and smiling at the feeling of you snuggling into him. It felt right, so right, to be holding you like this. He whispers, “Are you okay?” You merely nod your head, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He questions further.

You stay silent, enjoying Lando’s strong hold on you. It makes you feel safe. Safe enough to share what happened in the club. “There was some random guy who thought he was entitled to my attention.” You mumble into his neck.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” He continues, already fearing the answer.

You let a silence fall before answering, “He did,”

Lando squeezes you tighter at the revelation. He’s not surprised a man ruined your fun night out.

You continue quickly, “But there were some girls who helped me, and I think they kicked him out. I’m not sure though, I left as soon as I could. Then I called Max, but he didn’t answer, and now…”

“I’m sorry,” Lando says, a pained expression on his face. “Men are shit.”

You let out a small laugh and Lando can barely avoid shivering at the feeling of your warm breath hitting the sensitive skin of his neck. Nevertheless, he smiles in accomplishment when he hears the sound, glad he could cheer you up.

“You want to go home? To my place, I mean, Max is there…”

“Yes,” you say into Lando’s neck, sighing before distancing yourself from him.

He kisses the top of your head before letting you leave his hold, “Let’s go then,” he says, pulling you along to his car, still tucked into his side.

– – – – –

Part 2

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Just A Little Bit Jealous - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: Just A Little Bit Jealous

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Charles (Mentioned), Hank, Co-workers, Scott (Mentioned), Random bar people, and Rogue (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 4,927

Warnings: Jealousy, slight violence, slight suggestiveness, nicknames, teasing, banter, flirting, bars, alcohol (beer) mentioned, unwanted flirting and physical touch (nothing major), Reader has Telekinesis (and other unspecified mutations), minimal cursing, men being jerks, blood briefly mentioned, angst, and fluff

Logan wasn't the best with emotions. Or at expressing them really. However, in certain situations, the emotions that did seem to shine through were not the most positive ones. Especially as Logan found himself standing at the entrance of the X-Mansion kitchen; raging, for a lack of better words.

His vision was green. A dark haze settled over his eyes. It was a look that only Logan could achieve. The anger in his gut was beginning to bowl over. He needed to calm down, but how? 

Seeing you, looking the way you did, absolutely gorgeous in that outfit - the one that made you feel confident - it wasn’t even anything fancy, just your usual attire; something more laidback for the weekend. The way that you seemed to be oblivious to the way that Hank was looking at you. Logan understood. You looked stunning, as always. 

Even though Logan knew that he shouldn't be feeling such... Well, jealousy. Hank was a long-time friend of both of yours, and you and Logan had been together for well over a year at this point. But, he couldn't help it. It was like an itch under his skin that he couldn’t reach to scratch. Logan felt protective. As he usually felt for those he truly cared about. And even though he knew that he didn't need to worry, again, he couldn't help it. Logan knew Hank, and he knew him long enough to know that he was a good guy. Hank wouldn't try and steal you from him, not that you were something to steal. Logan didn't own you, if you so wished, you could leave him. You could do whatever you wanted. You could leave and forget all about him.

Though, that just might've been Logan's insecurities talking. 

At some point, while Logan was stuck in his head, his eyes still glaring holes into the side of Hank's head. Logan was not paying much attention to your conversation, but whatever it was about, Hank made you laugh. Another wave of jealousy rippled out of Logan. But, thankfully for Logan - and Hank - the conversation between you and Hank ended.

"Have a good night, Y/N," Hank spoke, grabbing his coke can from the kitchen counter.

"Goodnight, Hank." You replied, noticing Logan at the kitchen entrance, leaning against the wall; his arms crossed. 

Hank turned and paused, also noticing Logan, giving the man a grin. "Good evening, Logan."

"Evening," Logan grumbled, eyeing the man as Hank awkwardly passed him and left the room; escaping down the hall. 

You huffed, turning to lean against the kitchen counter, pressing the palms of your hands against the edge of it. You stared at Logan, inspecting his body language, trying to get a feel for how he was feeling, and Logan stared right back at you. You mimicked him, moving your arms to cross them over your chest, and at his eyebrow raise, you raised yours. His frown slowly slipped into a small grin at your actions, making your lips tug upwards in response. You moved towards him. "Hey..." Your voice was soft, yet full of curiosity. You looked up at him, taking him in fully once again.

Logan leaned forward slightly, his crossed arms dropping, and his hands coming to rest on your waist, "Hey..." He mimicked your greeting, making you huff again.

Raising your hands, you placed them on his own waist, your pointer fingers looping into his blue Jeans belt loops. "What's up with you?" You asked, tilting your head back a bit to look up at him. "Something on your mind?" You pressed on, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Hmm..." Logan hummed softly, gazing down at you for a moment - just admiring you, your eyes shining as bright as ever, looking up at him with such love and admiration - before lowering his face to meet yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. The kiss was slow but passionate. It sent shivers down your spine. One of your hands left his waist, cupping the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers running through the soft, brown hair at the nape of his neck. Your head was in the clouds, lost in Logan’s lips against yours. Logan felt all the anger and jealousy just wash away, leaving nothing but the love he felt for you burning inside of him. With each kiss and every touch, he felt a little bit lighter. 

You slowly pulled away from the intoxicating kiss, your eyes feeling heavy and your heart full, you couldn't stop your smile from growing as your whole body felt warm. You bit your bottom lip as you watched Logan chase your lips, before gently pressing his forehead against yours. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes once more, "I hope you didn't think that kissing me would get you out of answering." You lightly teased, feeling Logan's warm breath waft against your face as he let out a sigh of his own.

Logan's hands tightened around your waist, the warmth from his hands seeping through your shirt and onto your flesh. “Nothin' much on my mind, bub," Logan spoke, letting out one more sigh before letting his shoulders fall slightly, "Jus' a bit tired."

You hummed, nudging your nose gently against his before pulling your forehead from his, glancing at the kitchen clock on the wall. "It is almost seven." You turned to look back up at him, seeing that he was already looking right back down at you. "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?" You continued to tease, though Logan gave you a look and a small chuckle, you know that something else was swimming in that head of his; and you decided to let him just tell you whatever it was when he was ready.

Logan's grin turned into a smirk, blinking down at you tiredly, his hands on your waist tugging you back into him; your hands coming up to rest against his chest. "I put the 'grand' in 'grandpa'." He spoke. 

At that, you let out a snort, and the two of you started laughing quietly. It took a few moments before you quieted down, your hand coming up to your mouth as you looked at Logan; your eyes squinted slightly, trying to contain your giggles. "Either, you've been spending way too much time with Charles, or you really are tired." You giggled out, your laughter slowly subsiding.

Logan's chest heaved lightly as he chuckled once more, "Maybe both." 

As the both of you started to head up to your shared bedroom, Logan almost forgot what he was all upset over. Almost. 

~~~

Logan had once again found himself watching from afar as some guy - a co-worker - talked to you. You somehow convinced Logan to be your plus one for a work party that your job was hosting. Logan didn't want to go, but with your little pout - and Puss In Boots eyes - he caved, knowing that he wouldn’t win against you. You even convinced him to dress somewhat rather nicely, in black slacks, his boots, and his red flannel rolled up past his elbows. Yes, he looked nice, but he really wanted to wear his Jeans.

Logan disliked parties. Parties were different from bars though, you didn't have to interact with others. And with most parties, there was an expectation to mingle with others. Logan, however, did not want to mingle with others. He was a loner after all. 

He stood next to the table of snacks and refreshments, holding a small red solo cup of fruit punch for you; sadly for Logan, the party didn't have any alcohol. He could've really gone for a beer or two, but no. No, instead he had to stick to his own cup of fruit punch that he held in his other hand. 

But he watched, watched as you spoke to that co-worker of yours. Again, similar to Hank, the man said something to make you laugh - though, Logan knew you incredibly well enough to know that it was not a genuine laugh; the man even had the gall to reach out with his free hand to hold your upper arm for a moment. And Logan did what he could to push the jealousy that he was feeling down. Walking over, he skillfully maneuvered around some other people, making his way over to you. 

You nodded your head, letting out another fake laugh before you noticed Logan walking towards you in the corner of your eye. Turning your head, a real smile graced your features as you waved him over. "Logan! This is Henri."

"With an 'I'," Henri raised his cup in the air slightly with the inflection, giving Logan a grin, and offering his free hand out to the Wolverine. "Henri French."

Logan stared at him, with a hardened look, handing you your cup of punch without even looking at you. Taking Henri's offered hand, he shook it firmly - possibly enough to warn the guy to keep his fingers off of you. "Logan." He spoke simply, his voice gruff and low; letting go of Henri's hand, stuffing it into his slack's pocket. He turned his gaze back towards you, seeing your eyebrows knit together, and the confusion written across your face, your eyes searching his, though you quickly turned to look back at Henri with a smile; your hand curling around Logan's upper arm, the tips of your fingers brushing under the rolled sleeve of his flannel. At the touch of your chilled skin on his, Logan felt himself breathing out a deep sigh from his nose, you always knew how to calm him.

At Logan's nothing-but-short introduction, Henri let out a small laugh, "I know, Y/N said that was your name." He joked. "They seem to never shut up about you." Though Logan felt a sense of pride wash over him - making the corner of his lips twitch at the thought of you rambling about him to your co-workers - he also felt slightly off when Henri said that, the tone unnerved him. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes before you turned to look up at Logan with a sweet smile. "Lo, honey, could you hold my drink for me, please? I spotted Anna. I'll be back in a jiffy." And with that, your punch cup was back in his hand, and he was left alone to deal with Henri all by himself. 

Logan watched as you left, seeing you weave around a few people, waving to another co-worker of yours; an older woman with black hair and large glasses. Turning to look back at Henri, he noticed his gaze on you. And, in fact, Logan didn't like how Henri was looking at you. He was staring at you like he wanted you - the guy was even biting his lip, his eyes trailing up and down your body - Logan didn't like that one bit.

Letting out a small chuckle, Henri turned back to Logan, taking a sip of his punch. "You got a fine piece of ace there." Logan's brows furrowed, he wasn't exactly fond of how this conversation was going. 

"Excuse me?" Logan's voice deepened - a growl almost leaving his throat - as if he was warning Henri, feeling a burning feeling bubbling up inside him, but Henri just raised an eyebrow, brushing his short, blonde curls away from his forehead.

"Can't help a guy for being a bit curious, can you?" Logan pursed his lips, and Henri took the chance to continue, "So, how did you catch them? I've worked with them for three years now, and they never took me up on anything. I mean, come on, give a guy a break. What’s a guy gotta do to get some action around here?" He chuckled, and Logan felt his hands grip the cups of punch a bit tighter, the plastic of the cups crinkling slightly as the pressure. "You've got to tell me how you won them over. Did they play hard to get with you too?"

Logan wanted to lash out, but he knew how important this was for you, and he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of you and all of your co-workers… But, Logan was pretty close to punching this guy’s teeth in. "I don't have to tell ya nothin'," Logan finally growled, making Henri raise his hands in defense as he chuckled lightly. 

"Okay! Relax, buddy! Don't have to be so hostile, man, I'm just curious how good they are in-" Suddenly, Henri paused mid sentence, his own hand holding his cup of punch moving up in a swift motion. In confusion - and bewilderment - Logan watched as Henri moved the cup above his head, his body seemingly moving involuntarily. All the while, Henri's eyes were wide, his mouth agape as he blabbered nonsense in horror and confusion, before the cup flipped upside down, drenching himself in his own punch. The couple of people around both men stopped their conversations, turning to witness Henri as he slowly brought his hand down, his mouth opening and closing; his blonde curls wet and sticking to his forehead. "I- uh," He stammered out, "I- I don't know why I did that." He spoke out, sounding incredibly embarrassed.

Turning his head to look over in your direction, seeing you already looking over at him, a small, mischievous grin and a knowing look in your eyes. He matched your grin, knowing full well that this was your doing. 

~~~

When Logan said that he was going to go out on his bike, he wasn't expecting you to ask to come along. He was just going to a bar that was a couple of miles away, but the more the merrier; and Logan was actually meaning to show you the bar - that surprisingly didn't sell crap beer, at some point. When the world let the both of you, you and Logan would just ride around, sometimes for hours, just enjoying each other's company; the wind blowing through your hair, and the scenic views.

So, you and Logan drove off on his - Scott's - motorcycle, heading off to that bar that he told you all about. You weren’t all for bars, finding them a bit too loud and the lights a bit too dim. But, you had been curious ever since the many times Logan spoke about it when he got back to the Mansion. And even though Logan couldn't get drunk, you convinced him to let you drive the both of you home. Which was always fun for you. So, this was technically a win-win for both of you. Logan got to go to his bar, you got to drive home, and you both got to spend some quality time together.

When you pulled up to the bar, you slipped off of the bike, looking at the bar with your hands on your hips as Logan kicked the kickstand and slid off the bike. Looking around the exterior of the place, you noted how loud it seemed, even from the outside. You were in for a headache in the morning, and it wasn't going to be from the alcohol. 

"Ya good, bub?" Logan asked, his hand pressing the small of your back, his words breaking you out of your thoughts. 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I am," You nodded your head, glancing up at him, "I will admit, I am slightly nervous."

Logan nodded, turning his head to look at the bar, "I get it, but don't worry. I ain't gonna leave your side." Pulling you into his side, he gave you his signature grin, "Plus, they got the best fries."

"I like fries." You grinned right back up at him, "Lead the way."

"Sure thin', darlin'."

As Logan pushed the door open for you, you were immediately greeted by the smell of beer, sweat, and smoke; and the loud music that you heard outside, blasting overhead.

Logan’s hand was protectively placed on your lower back as he led you to the bar at the far end of the room. As you both walked, you took the time to look around and spied a couple of men playing pool to the right, and a handful of tables filled with all sorts of people to your left; drinking, smoking, and talking. At the far end of the bar, you found several men sitting on the bar's stools, watching the TV in the corner of the room; a football game was on. You were thankful that the bar wasn't full of just men, having spotted a couple of women here and there; with their partners, friends, etcetera. 

Finding a couple of empty stools at the bar, you and Logan took your seats, the bartender sliding over from behind the bar; cleaning a glass with a cloth. He was a burly man, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache - and a bunch of tattoos littering his arms. He gave Logan a nod, glancing at you before speaking.

"What can I get you two?" He asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music. His voice was deeper than what you had thought it was going to be, as he sat the glass and cloth down.

"Beer," Logan answered, and the bartender nodded, then turned to you.

You waved a dismissive hand, letting out an awkward chuckle, "I'll just take some fries. Thanks!" 

"Yeah," Logan spoke up, "Thanks, Charlie." And this Charlie nodded once more, leaving to get Logan's beer and your fries. 

Turning in his seat, Logan leaned his arm against the bar - close enough for you to be able to hear him over everything - giving you a grin, amusement in his eyes, "Well, wha' d'ya think?" 

"What do I think?" You asked, resting your own elbow against the bartop, leaning your cheek against your hand, "It’s not too bad. Honestly, it's a bit loud."

Logan chuckled, "All bars are loud, bub." 

You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, it's certainly not the worst."

For the next thirty minutes or so, you and Logan talked, about everything and anything as you ate your fries and Logan drank his second beer. It was very enjoyable, really. You were honestly impressed by the bar, its fries were amazing; crisp outside that was sprinkled with cinnamon and paprika; it was interesting, but you liked it. When Charlie came out of the kitchen with a plate full of stacked fries. The sight of all that food made you salivate slightly, your stomach growling in hunger.

As Logan finished off his tall glass of beer, he gained your attention, "I gotta piss, I'll be righ' back."

You felt a slight rush of nervousness but nodded anyway. With a gentle squeeze of your thigh, Logan slid off of the bar stool and over to the far left corner where you supposed the bathroom was located. Turning back to the bar, you picked up a fry from your plate, twisting it between your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Chewing, you glanced at the many drinks lining a shelf behind the bar. You were quickly growing bored, and you soon found yourself reading the labels of the alcoholic bottles; well, the ones that you could make out.

"What's someone like you doing in a beat-up place like this?" You heard a voice from beside you, where Logan used to be. Huffing, you mentally rolled your eyes. Ignoring the voice, you continued to stare straight ahead, and continued to eat your fries; maybe the guy would just go away, if you were lucky. "Come on, sweet thing, give me your name?" The guy spoke again, this time, much closer to you.

"Not interested." You answered plainly, becoming irritated. 

"Awe, don't be like that!" The guy exclaimed, taking the stool that Logan had occupied. "I just want to get to know you, sweet cheeks."

You didn't even glance at him as you answered with the same tone, "I got a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" The man asked, scoffing, seemingly thinking that your answer was ridiculous. "If I was your boyfriend, I'd never leave you all alone in some bar." He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing, "I don't think I could keep my eyes off you - much less my hands." 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. How typical. "Look, if you're done being creepy, I’d like you to leave me be - I'd like to eat my fries in peace while I wait for my boyfriend." You were this close to just using part of your mutation to physically make him leave you alone, but you didn’t want to bring much attention to yourself. “And, honestly, I’m doing you a favor. You won’t like whatever happens when he gets back.”

"Hmph," The man hummed, narrowing his eyes playfully - he liked a challenge - "Then why don’t you and I leave now before he gets back?" You then felt pressure on your thigh, making you snap your gaze from in front of you, to your thigh, and finally to the man. "I can show you a good time."

And before you could do anything, you heard his voice, "Hands. Off. Of. Them." And thankfully, at Logan's growl, the man took his hand from off of your thigh; as if you had burned him. 

Letting out a deep breath of relief, you looked up at Logan - who stood tall beside you, his dark eyes almost glowing with anger - his face showing pure fury, and his fists balled at his sides; his claws just threatening to escape his knuckles. 

"I was just fooling around, dude," The guy brought up the courage to speak, reaching out to steal a fry from off of your plate, "Just having some fun." But as he began to pull the fry from your plate, a metal claw suddenly stabbed the fry down, pinning it to the table with a loud ‘thud.’ The man froze, staring at the three claws as they pierced the wooden bartop. He gulped, obvious by his Adam's apple bobbing as he dropped the fry, his fingers only centimeters from the sharp claws. 

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you smirked, “I told you.” You taunted as the man slowly looked up at Logan, who continued to glare daggers at him; the man's eyes widened before he quickly stumbled off of the bar stool and ran away. Logan watched him go, slowly retracting his claws back into his knuckles, his blood staining them before they quickly healed. You huffed as Logan continued to watch until the man was out the bar door; your hand coming up to grab his arm. "Lo," You spoke up, gaining his attention, his head turning. You gave him a soft grin, gesturing to the bar stool, "Sit, hon." And he did, taking his seat, you could tell that he was still seething, though, less so than moments before. Taking his hand in yours, you curled his hand back into a fist, shutting your eyes as you pressed a couple of light kisses to his bloody knuckles. Pressing a last kiss to his knuckles, you sighed, opening your eyes; your eyes meeting his brown ones. "Thank you," You whispered quietly. He let out a long sigh, nodding as he looked away, but you reached out with your free hand, cupping his chin, and turning his head to face you. "Want to go home?"

He stared at you, a frown still on his face as he nodded. And so, you and Logan left the bar - leaving a couple of dollars for the drinks and fries - and then some for the slightly damaged bartop. Hopping onto the bike, you held onto the handles, feeling Logan's hands slip around your waist - protectively, his face digging into the side of your neck as you started the bike up. 

Driving down the road, you felt yourself smile as Logan's lips pressed gently against your skin, feeling his beard scratch lightly across your throat as he kissed your skin; instant goosebumps. The chill breeze was welcoming as the bike sped along the slightly bumpy roads, and you were excited to get home and sleep. And you could tell that Logan was tired too; mentally and emotionally. It wasn't until the bike pulled into the X-Mansion garage that you and Logan could finally let out a sigh. 

"Home sweet home," You said, the both of you slipping off of the bike. "I'm exhausted."

Logan only grumbled as the both of you headed into the Mansion. 

You hummed tiredly, looking down at the watch on your wrist, "It's almost seven." You took Logan's hand, interlacing your fingers with his as you walked down the Mansion halls, "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?"

You asked the same question from more than a week ago, your smile widened as you saw Logan's tired frown turn into a slight smile, "Yeah, yeah," Logan grumbled, amused, "Let's jus' get ta bed."

You nodded, chuckling, "You don't have to tell me twice."

~~~

Finally, some peace, and quiet; alone with you. With your head on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around you, Logan finally felt content. Content with just spending a quiet night in with you. No missions, no work parties, no bars - though Logan did have a beer on the coffee table - or waiting for you to get done with teaching. Just the both of you, watching a movie. And it was some fantasy movie that you got the VHS tape for. It was interesting, enough to keep Logan somewhat entertained, but not a lot. He kept finding himself looking at you for most of the movie. 

In fact, he was doing just that. The TV illuminated your face, perfectly highlighting your features. He found himself unable to focus on the movie at hand - he was too focused on you. His eyes followed your every movement - watching every little detail as you shifted. You wore a slight smile on your lips; your hand laying softly on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles onto the material of his jeans. Logan found himself smiling as he watched your actions. His own fingers absentmindedly played with the soft strands of your hair, occasionally scratching your scalp. His chest felt warm - fuzzy. 

But, then Logan noticed something. The expression on your face changed... Changed into one that you only gave him. Logan's eyebrows furrowed, watching as you let out a soft sigh, your eyes glued to the screen. Turning his head, he spotted the reason for your dreamy sigh and love-sick eyes. The man on the screen, dressed in the attire that was appropriate for the type of movie he was in, was dancing gracefully around a crowded ballroom of masked masqueraders. The man was beautiful, Logan had to admit. Beautiful, graceful, and ethereal. 

And you seemed to have thought so too, as you let out another dreamy sigh. 

Turning to look back at you, you glanced up at him, at the screen, and back at him. "What?" You asked, smiling lightly, noticing the odd look on his face.

"You're sighin,'" Logan spoke simply, making you frown slightly and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sighing?" You asked, blindly grabbing the TV remote and pausing the movie.

Logan tilted his head slightly, raising his own eyebrow as his chocolate eyes stared into yours, "You did the same sigh when you first met me." He recalled, making you huff out a little laugh, incredulously. 

"What are you talking about?" You asked, turning your body slightly towards him.

"Rogue said that ya sighed, just like that, when ya firs' met me." Logan pointed out, teasing lightly - his chest feeling warm in the process. "She said ya were starstruck."

You snorted, "Of course I was starstruck, I mean, look at you! You're gorgeous! You're tall, dark, and handsome!" You explained, pausing for a moment. "And you do have a nice butt." You added, as if it was common knowledge at this point, and it was - you praised his behind often.

Your flattery made Logan grin mischievously, "That's all ya like me fo’? My looks?" He joked, making you lightly slap his thigh in response. 

"Lo, of course not, you know that!" You spoke before becoming a bit serious as you made eye contact - Logan gulped lightly - "When I first met you, aside from your dashingly good looks, Logan, I fell for your character.” You glanced away briefly, the memories filling your mind, “You’re funny, fiercely loyal, passionate, intelligent, and a very strong-willed man." You found yourself rambling, "There's a whole lot more I could say, but it would take hours." You breathed out a small chuckle, running a hand through your hair.

Logan couldn't fight the blush that crept up his cheeks, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as you spoke; his eyes softening. "I could say the same 'bout you." He spoke honestly - fondly - his voice low and husky; almost speechless.

You hummed, leaning up with the hand on his thigh to press a quick peck to his cheek before turning back to the movie with one last tap to his leg. “I know these past months have been crazy. Work parties and loud bars… But, you don't have to worry. My fictional crush doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Fictional crush?" He muttered, glancing at the TV screen as you unpaused your movie.

 A smirk played on your lips as you turned your attention back on the TV, "I can smell the jealousy rolling off of you, hon,"

"Jealousy? I ain't jealous, bub." Logan shook his head, his arm returning to wrap around you. "Just… Surprised is all."

"Suit yourself."

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Fishbowl Bones

Jason Todd regrets a lot of things in life. He regrets how he hurt others in his Pit Madness and how he made Tim's eyes turn weary, filled with unease, like the younger boy is watching a bomb timer tick down.

Regrets how distant he feels from his family and from his friends like the part of him who knows how to socialize stayed buried in that blasted grave.

Regrets that his stupid teenage decisions lead him to his death.

Sometimes, in the darkest corner of his heart, he even regrets being taken in by Bruce. Hewonders what life would have been like if he had stayed on the streets, if he had lived as a regular unfortunate boy.

An earlier grave, maybe, but one that didn't have him come back broken like this. He would have just been another lost soul in the city, forgotten and remembered by no one, but free of the torment of fighting all his life.

It's not good to think like that, he knows, but Jason can't help the thoughts from racing through his mind on the roughest of nights. When the smell of gun powder, copper and sweat cloat him, as screams ring in his ears.

When his soul is soaked in blood.

It's hard not to think that.

Jason has so many regrets that when he stumbles across the Bracelet of Reverse on a mission in the Infinite Realms, he slips it on without second thought.

He knows the myth surrounding it. Apparently, it belonged to the old Ghost Queen, the unfortunate wife of the old Ghost King, who abused her for years with his ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. She created it to flee to a world the King could not reach.

This is a world in a timeline similar to the moment of her biggest regret—accepting Pariah Dark's proposal. She could correct the moment and live a whole new life in that timeline, trapped in a fantasy as Clockwork closed her in, caging her within her new life.

The time god made it a punishment for her overstepping into his domain, cutting that world off from the multiverse and letting it float in its solution.

"You gain what you wanted." The Ancient of Time said, "But you will lose what you had and could have had."

No one knows how her new world went—if Pariah was sealed or not, seeing as the Queen was the one to gather the Ancients in all other timelines—but the idea of correcting the biggest mistake of one's life was tempting enough that people scrambled for her bracelet, even if the world was a trap.

The very same one Jason stumbled upon. He uses the same one, ignoring the cries of his brothers, who watch helplessly as Jason slips it on.

The bracelet picks up the regrets from the darkest corner of his heart, and in a flash sends him away. Jason blinks, from one moment to the next, his world shifts and he finds himself a homeless child with a tire iron in his hand.

In front of him, rest the Batmobile all wheels ripe for the picking.

Jason stares, the weight of his choose, hanging in the air before he turns and runs. He runs away from his future, from the pain, from his salvation and damnination in equal parts.

He eventually stops running. Surprise, his feet take him to his Red Hood safe house. Right now, it's still the broken-down and condemned arcade because it's years in the past. Because he's there is no Red Hood, defender of Crime Alley, just a lonely, underfed boy standing in the middle of the room.

Outside, he hears the Batmoible race down the street, revving its powerful engine and fading away in the distance like his fading future.

Jason Todd, age thirteen but soul twenty-five, is no longer a Bat.

Life goes on, and he learns to survive the streets again. He trains his body to move as he used to, using his skills to not be a hero but a survivor, stopping crimes if they happen in front of him.

He never goes looking for danger.

Nightwing leaves the city, and Batman no longer has his bright colored shadow. There are times Bruce gets hurt when he shouldn't have because he was supposed to have back up there to help him.

Jason ducks his head and pretends to not see.

Then, one day, Robin returns because Bruce never learns. Jason expects it, having been counting the days as they move on. He's been in this world for two years and has built a reputation for being forcefully neutral.

He won't join any gangs, but he won't let them push him around. He steals from the stupid rich with the hacking skills of his past and sends it to himself as a false insurance claim for his mother. He bought the old arcade with it- under the table in a shady deal for far more then the place is worth- and slowly build his old safe house.

He's armed to the teeth, living nocturnal, only leaving his safe haven at night. Some street kids think he's a vampire, which is amusing. Jason doesn't try to go back to school. He has the money but none of Bruce's resources.

He can't fake grades or proof of guardians. CPS is a genuine threat again, and he refuses to give them a chance to try and drag him to those houses working as fronts for trafficking or, worse, the Court of Owls recruit centers.

Jason doesn't have a plan or goal to work towards. He has no friends, family, or even small connections. He sometimes goes to cafes with TVs, watching the news while drinking coffee. He also reads the newspapers, trying to keep up with whatever mission Bruce is working on.

Crime Alley citizens are weary and dismissive of him in equal parts. They know he's little Todd, but they don't know anything else, which scares them.

How is he surviving? Where is he getting the money? How does he move like that? No one knows, but they can see it—the skills of his past life resting just underneath his skin, waiting for anyone to test him.

Jason doesn't bother reassuring them. He doesn't bother with much besides the occasional food run, laundry mat visits, gas station travel centers with showers, and TV viewing in public spaces. He stays inside his arcade- still looking bad from the outside but homey and comforting inside- filling his days with books and building machines.

He just wants to survive—nothing more, nothing less.

The entire time, he wonders when Tim will finally snap and force Bruce to take him in. It makes sense to him that the only Robin who actively makes himself a vigilante would eventually become the next Robin. Tim knew Bruce's real ID for years before his death forced him to act.

This Bruce isn't that close to the violence he was when Jason died, but he's getting there. He is becoming reckless. Tim will be forced to act sooner or later, and Jason makes bets with himself on what night will be his debut.

He is not expecting someone else completely different being the new Robin.

Jason is shocked to see the hero re-appear, rescuing Tim Drake on TV, and realizes he doesn't know who this world's Robin is. Worse, his costume starkly differs from every Robin he's known. Jason risks exposal by breaking into the Batcave, having to avoid traps never before placed and hack the Batcomputer.

When he finds Robin's file, he is even more confused by what he reads. It makes no sense, especially for Bruce to bring to this level, for a Robin to have so little information.

Even Tim's clone friend Kon-El had a bigger file when he was first found.

All he gets is a name, an age, and a meta confirmation. (Even if the word meta isn't used yet in this timeline.)

Who is Danny Fenton, age fifteen, and why does he have Clockwork's amulet on his Robin costume?

Jason prays it's not because of him. He never asked for a rescue, and he won't go without a fight. He logs out, and slips though the back caves, mentally planning on hacking Lex once more to upgrade his home against "Ectoplasm" since that what this Danny's powers are based on.

Worlds away, the Waynes wait for the Ghost King outside a swirling portal. He went in to save Jason from a fantasy world before it could trap him in his worst nightmare. Before it made him forget his real life.

He may have to follow that world's rules and play whatever role the world needed him to, but the King swore he would find Jason and bring him home.

[bye-bye-sunbird]

A thought often haunts him, dark and insistent.

If he were to touch you.

If he dared to yield, even for a second, to the tempting warmth your skin radiates. If he were to test whether the soft promise of your lips is real...

... would he taint you, beyond repair, just as he has been?

[nemesyaaa]

pygmalion au // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; “ you love someone you can shape, who has no will to escape. ” artist!rafe x muse!reader.

warnings ; unsafe feelings. slight of angst. smut. kind of fantasy/magic. art glorification. attachment issues. innocent!reader. fear of losing somebody. first time. rafe being a lost boy. dubcon. pygmalion' weird story. toxic!rafe. mentions of drugs. oral (m. receiving). p in v. insecurities. praising. artist hands appreciation. minors DNI.

author's note : 3,5 k words for this. one-shot. also a lot of tummy appreciation (tysm @shawtycoreee 🫶🏿). out of the smut, i tried to write it so poetic 😭🤟🏿

— “ wrap me up, enfold me. i am small and needy. warm me up and breathe me. ” breathe me by sia.

it was alone and late at night that rafe cameron began to create you, not really knowing at the time he started his art what work you would produce. he only cut the stone with his hands. before forming your body, he fantasized about it internally, not really knowing what a woman's anatomy actually looked like. you were like a crazy dream he was trying to sort out, a fantasy he was trying to make real. he sculpted with his straight calloused and tired hands, manipulating the fragile and sensitive material with precision.

he hated doing badly, but it was what he did best. as he worked, he sank into his own fascination. you were magnificent, no, you were divine, the glorious treasure from his hands. it was scary and breathtaking. he had never done anything so beautiful, never created anything so charming. you had this firm, seductive chest, completely bare and hard, the movement of the stone making your belly round and chubby. you were carved in marble, an inanimate statue that had found favor in the eyes of his creator.

when he had finished your face,

he had been amazed but above all frightened by what his fingers had achieved. he had given shape to your lips, your nose, your mouth and your eyes. and now that you had a look, it was like you were confronting him. because now that you had pupils, you could look at him too, you could judge him too. you could be as superior as him, but also equal to his worth.

you were his most beautiful work of art, literally his ethereal and angelic muse. and above all, you made him nervous. not only were you realistic, but you were a woman, you were like one of the goddesses from greek mythology, completely naked.

it was unexpected, but he had knelt before you, before your altar, on his legs and his hands. he was so white and desperate like a lost sinner having only his god to pray and glorify in order to survive.

you had seen his lips part in a prayer, his mouth tighten in a whisper. and you had ears, certainly made of stone, but you had heard it. you had heard his wish lost in the void. yet he had nothing of a believer, you could hardly imagine this man on the benches of a church, but you were also cruelly incapable of seeing and understanding who he really was.

when he stood up, you felt his hands on your skin, the coldness of his ring, but also the awkwardness of his touch. you could tell it was the first time he touched someone intimately, because he didn't really know where to put his hands but he also didn't know how to touch you without destroying you.

rafe cameron was not a god. he could break anything he touched. and maybe that was why he was so nervous and pathetic. you belonged to him now that he had created you so he refused to lose you without even knowing you.

he had hoped that god would make you a real woman, because you were perfect, too sublime to be just a piece of stone.

he didn't need to pull himself up to reach you, he was much taller, more intimidating in terms of size. he could lift you up and control you with just one hand.

you looked so alive so why, why did he only hear one heartbeat in the room? why was he alone breathing in this cold and empty room? why did you only have life in appearance?

you could feel in his look that he was questioning, that he was troubled, that all the beauty of his blue eyes was overwhelmed. but you had also felt his face so close to yours, his breath fanning across your molded lips. he had been hesitant, but his mouth had finally found yours.

and you surprised yourself by loving the taste of his pretty lips, but above all by being able to touch it.

and it was like that kiss had been real enough of how he felt about you that god had decided to give him a chance.

you had sensed all the ivory of your body, of your muscles, becoming sublimely gorgeous, all your stone beauty becoming human and alive. as if his devotion had allowed you to be free and to exist.

when he felt your mouth melt on his, he pulled back in fear. you weren’t supposed to be real even if he wanted you to be. since when did statues come to life?

"oh fuck, what's going on here?... i think i'm going crazy...all that fucking coke…”

“you created me.” you replied, slightly hurt by his reaction because he was supposed to be happy.

"no, you're not supposed to be alive. i mean, you're art, you can't be human."

“i’m human!” you contradicted, stepping forward from your marble base.

rafe wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or a dream. but his gaze was anchored on you, he couldn't take every inch of his eyes off your body. he was magnetized by your magnificence.

you came just close enough to take his hand and place it against your chest. “don’t be cold to me. don’t leave me. what would i do without you? you can't reject me. you need me. ”

maybe that was the game changer for rafe cameron. because he had just understood that since you were his, you belonged to him, you were entirely dependent on him. you couldn't escape, and above all, you had no desire to.

he could do what he wanted, you were like a doll created to respond to the slightest of his favors without ever complacent. you were not only perfect but unimaginable.

” be on your knees for me.”

and the next second, you were staring at him waiting for another order.

"mmh...i know your body by heart. i shape all of this. but you have never seen mine. no worry, i'm going to fix that, okay? you're going to please me tonight and not make me regret 'have given you life?”

you nodded in agreement and he smiled because you were too innocent, too sweet for someone like him. he had unzipped his pants, making them fall to his legs like his boxers.

and it was the first time you saw a naked man in front of you, but it was also fair for you because you had no clothes. “let me help you…” he offered with a smirk. his thumb had rolled over your lips, creating a slight slit between them. “ you need to open that pretty mouth wider...” he added, taking advantage of your vulnerability to use you.

"you know it will only hurt if you don't relax. so don't be tense. because even if it's big, you're gonna take it, doll. not gonna be easy on you because it's your first time. show me what you can do baby, let me feel how grateful you are for your creator. "

he had pushed his tip against your lips, forcing his way into your mouth, making you open bigger to accommodate his cock in your cavity. it was new to you, and you weren't even sure if you could satisfy him because it was the first time you had done something like that, and especially used your mouth in that way.

you thought this area was used to create intimacy between people, not to do dirty things.

“baby, i really appreciate how sweet you can be, but don’t let me do all the work…” he had scoffed. and your heart skipped a beat when he shoved himself further in your mouth, so much so that you felt him hit the back of your throat, all the speed of his harshly strokes leaving you breathless.

you choked on his movements, saliva pooling and dripping between the corners of your enlarged lips. “that’s what happens when you don’t do your part of the job properly…” his tone was falsely accusatory as you couldn’t catch your breath from his pace. he had no pity, you had turned on him too much. and to fix it, he blamed you by harassing your throat with his fat cock.

"but since you leave me no choice, let me show you how to be a good girl for me..." he had plugged your nose, pinching it hard, forcing you to take him entirely, without being able to breathe. his length swallowed in and out, your tongue barely able to support his weight which grew as he bullied your lips.

you belonged to him so he didn’t care if he ruined you a little. he told himself that he would repair you.

he released your nose when he felt you were about to pass, with a sadistic giggle. your eyes were wet with tears. “oh baby, don’t give me that look, you’re wasting your time, i don’t feel pity. ”

you continued to pump him until your jaw arched tighten and become more tense. he pulled out for a moment, spitting in your tongue, before using your throat again. his grunts were frantic and rapid, hot breaths in sync with the pornographic sounds that emanated from your sucking. his large palm was wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling your posture. “ give me that sweet eyes again, and i will make them cry.”

he took so much pleasure in watching you swallow him hard, grunting every time he entered your throat hoping to relax it but causing the opposite effect. "'ot finished. take those balls too." he had pulled back to lift his painfully throbbing dick and place it against his stomach, you had started to lick them, letting your tongue work the entire surface, coating them with saliva. "feel? how full they are. they're gonna stuff you real bad. " you sucked on them when he pushed them directly into your mouth, making him let out throaty sounds. your mouth felt so good, he wondered if your pussy would be just as her.

between your legs, it was completely soaked. your sloppy slit dripping onto the floor. it wasn’t like rafe was ignoring that mess. he was just purely mesmerized by your lips, by the way you cupped his balls so well, and how his cock reacted to each of your licks.

you were definitely his best work. it was more than art, it was heavenly. he was incapable of not using you after creating you. he had his urges, and you had to respond to them.

he had started fisting his length, leaving you lapping at his genitals dangling above your face. the cum had gushed through the air, landing on you. he had rubbed his trailing tip on your cheeks, giving a new color to your skin.

he wondered if you were human enough to feel all this degradation. in a short movement, he had placed you in front of the standing mirror of the workshop, and had driven his body against yours. he spat into his hand before jerking off a little, pressing the head of his cock against your sticky dirty folds.

he placed his arm across your stomach, one hand gripping one of your breast, pressing it more firmly once lodged inside you and grunted as he felt how tight you were, how hard your pussy stretched in his path. thanks to the mirror, he could see each of your reactions, but above all, see your part pumped each of his inches. all his size had disappeared between your flowing walls.

your twitching cunt clenched around his girth, your canal squeezing him. his thrusts were merciless, burrowing into your soiled folds. rafe rocked his hips roughly, as his dick bullied your puffy core. he wondered how a loser like him could have created a goddess like you. and he was desperate to know if he could make you stupid, if his cock that destroyed and filled you was good enough for someone like you.

you had created a mess and frustration in him.

he was in love with the bouncing flesh on your tummy against his arm, your tits swaying when you took him. it was a grace.

he reached out and hit your spot every time he buried himself inside you, his face sank in your left shoulder. you could feel the strands of his hair against your skin, his mouth against your collarbone. you were his, he was fucking you like this. you were only alive when he touched you. you could feel his obsession and adoration in every thrusts, no matter how brutal they were. it was his way of showing you that you couldn't escape him and that you could never.

his rhythm was hard, as your pudgy tummy jiggled under his strong fingers who were digging into you. you were so giddy, fucked like a ragdoll not able to said if it was the butterflies that make your stomach spiraling, or that thick dick shoved inch by inch further into your messy slick. his other digits at your clit, massaging the small and eager bud. he was big enough to maneuver you and embraced your small frame with his muscular biceps.

you were too little, too fragile underneath him.

he was your creator, he gave you air but he could also take it away from you. you were completely dependent, not only you, but every crumb of your body. he was pounding into you with the inability to detach his cock from your fluffy pussy. he loved hearing your voice choked with tears and moans against his ear. it was a sweet melody, a symphony.

your body was perfect, straddling his, your skin slapping his. your lips gurgling around his fingers that you could no longer take without dropping them, because of his violent assaults. you drooled all over your mouth, struggling with the drool that splashed all over his hand.

you couldn't see anything anymore, it was blurry. you didn't even feel tired anymore, you felt like a stupid doll, unable to think and reflect, only able to take this cock nastily harassing you and stretching you violently.

with his muscular and heavy hand on your throat, he forced you to look at the mirror. there was something incredible and perfect in his hands, and you knew it from the moment he started sculpting you. they were so good and incredible, covered with veins that systematically bulged. they captured your belly fat well. “don’t hide this from me. it’s my property.”

he had harpooned your flesh between his fingers, making it move and hang down more as he fucked you senseless.

“if i shaped you like that, that meant i wanted you like that.” your tummy was caged in his grasp. “ i mean, look at that belly, it's all beauty, i swear.”

he had moved his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing that area of your skin, feeling his bulge farther in you. in this corner of the room, there was only you and him, only your whimpers against his fingers and the pleasure you felt. there was only this mirror that stared at you and reflected you in the darkness with the only light of the moon as a beacon.

you were divine, you had the perfect body of a goddess. and even having cum with you, even causing your third orgasm, he didn't want to pull out. it was as if he was afraid of the emptiness he expected after this. and maybe you too were dreading the emptiness inside you after he filled you up so well, your soaked pussy dripping with his cum, drooling all over the floor.

he had finally taken it out, his fingers entering you to collect his mixture and place it against your lips. “don’t let it go to waste.”

you had cleaned his fingers until they were pure again.

he had his eyes on you, like a human in front of art.

he still didn't realize. but he refused to let you escape. but it wasn't like you could. he had created a home here, all over this room and in you. he had established a domain in every inch of your skin. he only had to see you to know that you were his own creation.

you kissed him, slightly awkwardly but he made up for it with his mouth on yours. “you can’t abandon me.” he whispered. “i don’t want to abandon you.”

and it felt good to hear your words. you didn't know him well enough, or not really, to know how sick he was. but you felt grateful that he gave you life, because it was priceless. he had made you, and you were his.

“ what are you doing?” when you felt chains encircling your wrists, you weren’t sure if you liked it. "i really want to believe in you sweetheart but i also can't trust anyone. you have legs, you can run away from me but with this metal, you're stuck.”

“i don’t really like it…” you admitted and he replied “no one likes it but the difference is that you don’t really have a choice either. you're mine. your feelings, your body, your eyes, all of that is mine. even that pouty sweet face of yours. ”

you turned your head to let him know that you didn't appreciate it, and to give him the silent treatment. and he smiled. “it doesn't kill me, baby. you can pout. ”

you didn’t respond. "you really want to give me this treatment? maybe you really don't want me to be nice to you after all..."

he had smiled. “"okay...I'll give you what you want." he had disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with an object that you couldn't identify. " what is this ? "

"now, baby wants to talk...but it's a little too late, i'm making the rules here so...say hello to your new favorite toy. it's a gagball.”

you didn't feel it was useful until the ball went into your mouth and stopped you from speaking. you could only drool and grumble around the object.

"why that face, baby? that's not what you wanted? i swear you still look pretty. just quieter. i'm going to go to sleep. and tomorrow you'll show me how sorry you are for that attitude. you want to know if i would forgive you? maybe it would be too easy, you understand? you have all night to prepare excuses and they better please me because i can be even more creative than that to punish you. “

the next day he woke up in a good mood. and above all, you were always there.

he had picked up the bottle of water from his table, wondering if you were thirsty. but when he arrived in front of you, he changed his mind. he used it to wake you up.

"i'm so clumsy...sorry, baby." but there wasn't an ounce of regret in his voice so you knew he was joking. you learned to read his face.

“you know how sorry i am…” he added, facing your gaze.

“you’re not…”

"yes, right. such a clever baby. are you thirsty?”

" yes..."

“maybe if you show me how good and nice you are today, i can consider bringing you another bottle.”

"what do you want..."

“it’s not what i want, sweetheart. but what you will do to satisfy me. see the small difference ? ”

it had been several weeks, a month in fact, since the day of your creation. you had spent your time in this workshop, chained to this wall. you were only alone when rafe left, when he left you in the shadows.

in fact, he was clearly having fun with you. you were dependent on his affection, and he knew it. you reacted to the slightest attention he gave you, even the most mean and bad. but above all you were incapable of hating rafe cameron.

he had made you a magnificent creature, a living human, you would be even crueler than him if you hated him.

after all, you were his muse. he had the right to use you. that was also the thought he had drilled into your brain.

everything he did was for you. and you should be grateful.

but sometimes he wondered, if he killed you, would you come back to life? was there magic in you or was he just in a fucking wonderful dream? he did enough coke to get high for days but this time it lasted too long for it to be fake.

your relationship was strange because sometimes you felt loved, especially when he hugged you after being rough with you, his palm gently caressing your back. like any human, there was tenderness in him. he could be nice. he knew how to be one but that didn't mean he enjoyed being one. he just thought that if he was too mean, you would disappear.

and that was not something he could tolerate. during all this time spent with you, he had not learned, no, he had not succeeded, to live without you.

artists brought art to life, but art gave meaning to the artists' lives.

before you, he was alone.

he had prayed for you. he needed you. it was his final call.

rafe cameron fell in love with you before he created you, before he even imagined you.

and maybe that was why he was so mean to you, because he never knew love, so how can you blame him for not knowing if you loved him back or make fun of him?

he was pathetic, full of rage and violence. but you couldn't hate him, because you and him shared the same tears. the same pain.

he made you, and you made him. he was afraid and you were scared. you wanted someone to love you, and he wanted someone that could love him.

“ i swear, y/n. don't leave me alone. even when you looked away, you make me feel like a monster when i'm not. so please, do the same as me. ”

“ what ? ”

“ don't make me feel like somebody else exists. i'm the only world you can live in. ”

[controld3vil]

𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing(s): young!rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader (can be read either as romantic/platonic) synopsis: Rhaenyra always seemed to like her position as the only dragon rider in King's Landing. Besides her uncle who rarely visits, she flys with Syrax whenever she can as proof of her imperial lineage. When word comes that you claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, Rhaenyra becomes strangely jealous of your newfound attention.

notes: this takes place closely timeline-wise to the first season. cw: reader experiences a near-death incident, slight angst

Rhaenyra always felt at ease after riding with her dragon, Syrax. She had a distinctive bond with Syrax that no one could replicate. No one could discourage the truth. Her ancestors rode dragons and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. And rightfully so, as she acknowledges its power on the world. They were fierce beasts, little in number, but ferocious and praised as Gods to the people. The Princess of Dragonstone understood that well when she climbed off of Syrax’s saddle. Her golden scales glisten gloriously from the sunshine. 

She gleams brighter than before. Switching into a rich blonde gown, Rhaenyra rushes to the Court Council. Hoping none of the Councilmen would be bothered by her disturbed presence, the princess fixates on flattening down her silvery hair with her fingers. Combining through her tangled locks, the princess enters, drawing attention to haste and bewildered looks. 

“I was visiting Mother,” The Realm’s Delight she was named, smiled at her father, the King when asked about her whereabouts. She knew he would be displeased by the fact that she was dragon riding incredibly early. But she told the truth wholly. Rhaenyra did visit her mother. 

“On dragonback?” Viserys asked after catching a whiff of his daughter’s distinctive scent. It smelled of smoke and sea, resembling the dragon’s nature and their fiery breath. His daughter returns with a cheeky smile when she goes about to collect the pitcher, full of wine. There was much pride in the princess of her ancestral lineage. It was clear as histories can be able to tell of Old Valyria. A dragon was considered a rare delicacy despite having an abundance around the world. King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. Yet people did not consider them to be flesh and blood. Surprisingly, most were wild and had never been bonded with a dragon rider.

“Haven’t you heard? There was a sighting of the wild dragon, Vermithor along the coastlines of The High Tide,” Coryls Velaryon spouts, in cautiousness and weary. His clenched fist was unmistakable to Rhaenyra as he leaned forward with agitation. “My men are terrified, Your Grace. Surely we can think of a way to return the dragon’s course to Dragonstone.”

The silvery-haired girl looks to her father, King Viserys who beams with fazed delight. He thinks in light of the Master of Ship’s concerns. A dragon flies as it pleases. It did not flee far from Dragonstone as her familial home was a mile away from Driftmark itself. Eventually, Vermithor would have to return to rest. “And I’m sure he will return to Dragonstone when he deems it appropriate.” 

The lighthearted remark sparked some casual laughter from the table. A few lords shamelessly coughed between their coats while Hand to the King, Otto Hightower could only contemplate silently how to move the conversation to something more time-consuming. Rhaenyra has witnessed enough Council meetings to know that her father is restless. He never wanted to stay in the room for far too long before becoming disinterested in every political matter. What a dull position, she thought, to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must abide by everyone's opinion and request. 

Rhaenyra traces her thumb around the handle of the pitcher. It’s glass and gold melded together. Its purity reflects wonderfully when she’s shown it to the light. As she strides around every seat of the table, the princess notices the little nuances each lord has. The old and cold pin of the Hand on Otto’s chest. The chainmail rings around Maester Mellos. And the rustic bronze rings Lord Corlys carried on his right hand. She recognizes why they are so distinctive now. 

“Nyra!”

It was like a bell went off in her mind when the Princess of Dragonstone blinked again. Now the Council meeting was left in their final moments. The doors that connected the room to the passive hallways opened, and flooded with the lords, one by one exiting. Well-mannered and poised was she when Rhaenyra placed the pitcher back onto the tabletop. Greeted by her father with a brief smile, she heard the sound of sweet nectar. Did you expect she did not hear you?

“Princess,” Rhaenyra laughs, coming down the stairs. You appeared eager to be near her, as you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist. A warm ache grows in her chest as Dragonstone’s darling caresses your shoulders, pushing you aback to see your face. “My you are eager this morrow.”

Your cheeks were plastered in rosy plums. Pink and delicate. As you burst into unfathomable joy at her proximity, you couldn’t contain your giddy blubbering. “I missed you! Is it so wrong to miss you?” She’d imagined your energy and heart beating simultaneously in the rhythm of a hummingbird. You were such a lively spirit, it complimented well with her own. Can she say that? 

She peers at you, fondly. As you were the most precious being one could ask for. If she could, Rhaenyra would shield you from every inconvenience and proposal your way. Even when you would become of age and pursued by your parents, she still would protect you from anyone who deemed you accessible. She brought both of her hands around your small one. They were adorned with rose-colored jewelry. Each is a colored gemstone to match your House colors. Rhaenyra slowly traces the flesh of your palm, “Of course not, Princess! It’s- I haven‘t seen you in so long,”

Your name is hollered and echoed against the looming halls you both stood in. She was sure for a moment, you two would be alone. A pang of discomfort flourishes in her throat when Rhaenyra becomes mute to the person to grab your attention. You, however, were deemed unbothered by it all, and held onto her grip tighter, and firmly, radiating heat and sweat. 

“There you are,” Your father, Lord Corlys groans in relief. It was evitable to find you lost around the castle, King’s Landing was a vast place. However, for how long you have visited, Rhaenyra depicts you knew the structure of it all and simply faked being clueless around. She saw it once. When you vaguely asked a guard where the library was to distract him, knowing you would be off avoiding your lessons with the Septa. She wishes she could chuckle out loud for that memory. “Do not get yourself carried away with the Princess, we have important matters to discuss with the King.” Your father seemed adamant about separating you from Rhaenyra, she recognizes. Which offends her greatly. You were a good friend and cousin. But more importantly, you were the only person to enjoy her company and mischief. 

For the longest time, the eldest daughter of King Viserys was lonely, not having anyone to relate to with her ancestral blood. The ladies in waiting were shy and polite. They were not her forte, Rhaenyra disliked how courtship worked. The daughter of the Hand, Alicent Hightower was a pleasant fresh air and surprise. When she had arrived at King's Landing years ago, Rhaenyra was rather avoidant of her. Now, they were good friends, only ever to be in each other's presence. Daemon, her uncle, is rarely seen nowadays. His position to the City Watch had in truth bothered and encouraged him to wreak more havoc with the townsfolk. She dismisses everyone clearly, anyone closest to her Targaryen bloodline is old or distant. 

But you, and your siblings, Laenor and Laena were much needed in the capitol. Your brother and sister visit rarely, they listen to your father and mother. On the other hand, you weren’t as uptight. As the youngest member of the Velaryon family, you had fewer expected duties compared to her and Alicent. Rhaenyra envied it truly, forever longing for your freedom. 

“Yes father,” You mope, an obvious frown on your lips when you depart from Rhaenyra’s side to your father. He stares at you with amused eyes, much contrast when he turns to her direction with a cold glare. It brings a chill down her spine as she quickly bows her head at the Master of Ships. She meant no offense. You did not notice the demeaning tension between your father and cousin. Because childishly, you excitedly tugged on Rhaenyra’s golden sleeves. “We’ll meet again soon, alright?” 

God, she can only smile at you. You were so sweet, endearing, and innocent. All traits she could find in any other lady. But you were much lively, more genuine than the girls she watched by the courtyard. They were pretentious and fickle. Alicent was also sweet and innocent. Innocent in the ways of adventure and courage. She was attached to duty and for that, Rhaenyra could not blame her. But for how much it mattered to her, she believed it to be an outrage. Out of everyone, you were just right.

The next time you met Rhaenyra was unconventional. Somehow you managed to convince your father to journey beside him to King’s Landing once more to meet the King’s family. Corlys hardly shrugged, putting little effort to stop you from climbing aboard the Sea Snake. Under unfathomable moments, you were condemned to sail to the capitol to tell the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms the great news. The last islanders left behind were your mother, Rhaenys, and sister, Laena who waved at you, earnestly, honing her fond smile as your figure grew smaller and smaller. Your mother, the Queen who Never Was, stood warmly with her arms crossed, with a look of pride on her face. 

Yes, your mother was ecstatic about what you had accomplished. No other dragon rider besides The Old King, Jaehaerys could claim the beast, the Bronze Fury. Many attempted, and many failed. However, because of your efforts, create a sense of joy and relief in your mother’s eyes. Never would she imagine her youngest child to claim one of the largest dragons alive. Vermithor was an untamable beast with a feisty personality. Perhaps it takes likeness to your spirit and simply bonded. She would have to ask you again to recall how you did it. 

The walls of the grand castle were empty and welcoming. You felt adrenaline scorch through your veins when you climbed up the stairs of the grand hall. The exterior was glorious. You could holler and scream and it would echo throughout all the corridors like a never-ending chamber. You held a skittish smile, as you made your way up, placing one hand on the rails for support. You could hear your father’s voice echo behind. Careful, you mustn’t fall, my love!

Even if you dropped to the ground, you would immediately pull yourself up and climb the stairs again. It was how desperate you were to meet Rhaenyra. You desperately wanted to tell her! 

Across the royal chambers, Rhaenyra was lounging outside notably. She sat under the Weirwood tree at leisure with Alicent beside her with a book in hand. She read aloud one of its stories, a romantic tale of a Dornish princess. But the dragon princess barely paid mind to what the Hand’s daughter was reading, she was more in tune with the moving sky. The baby blue ocean from above and the fluffy clouds that looked like soft cushions. The Realm’s Delight longed to ride with Syrax, despite only returning from her morning ride. If she could live in the sky forever, Rhaenyra would want to. 

She spotted a few of the Kingsguards that patrolled stop in front of someone. It looked as though they were permitting passage but seconds later, she saw them nod in unison simultaneously. They cleared the path and there you were. Striding in happy and irregular steps with your flowy dress of blue seashells and gemstones. She is reminded each time of your wealth and beauty. Cool-toned colors were your style as there was no other pigment you dressed in confidently and proudly, Sometimes she wonders how you would look in crimson red and black. 

“Princess!” Alicent was the first to speak on your behavior. It was not every day to see you all of a sudden in King's Landing. After Lord Corlys’s many disagreements with the Council. he chose to be absent from court. This irritated King Viserys and the rest of the Council, knowing without their Master of Ships, their collaboration would be deemed incomplete. Nevertheless, your appearance would confirm that your father had once again returned to the capitol. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” The brown-haired princess gleams, shutting the book entirely, and rising to meet you in a short embrace. 

Your giddiness is affectionate. It makes Rhaenyra feel light and blissful of your unannounced arrival. “It is good to see you, my Lady!” You’re teasing, tightly wrapping your arms around Alicent before releasing with sweet laughter. Alicent snickers, as the highlights of her dimples flush in soft pales of the color rose. 

“I told you, Alicent is fine!” 

“I know!” The two of you seemed to be in your world whenever your visits happened. You would appear, and Alicent bursts excitement and jitteriness. Rhaenyra finds it amusing to watch it unfold. But for not witnessing your presence for so long, she rather feels a little hurt and apprehensive of your attachment to the Hand’s daughter. If your mere attendance brought such delight, then your words brought an abundance of warmth and tenderness. “Nyra!”

Finally, the Princess of Dragonstone looks up, feeling slightly closed off from your welcome. Yet when she lays her velvet eyes on you, she can’t help but feel you are forgiven. Your expression was gentle and serene. “Princess,” Your name feels light off her lips as it always did. You playfully roll your eyes before releasing your grip on Alicent to hold onto Rhaenyra’s hands. They were inviting and delicate. 

“I missed you,” You whine, dramatically, dragging out the last part as though you haven’t seen each other in months. When really, it has been less than a month. The most you have visited were a full three days, staying overnight in the guest's bedrooms. It was when your father had an important mission to relay with the lords he chose to stay longer. You, on the other hand, wanted a sleepover. And by now, you should have a bedroom, personalized for whenever you wish to come to visit. You have on many occasions to irk your father and mother’s minds.

“The last time we spoke you were whisked away by your father,” She scoffs lightly which earns a questionable raised brow from Alicent. Your expression does not falter at her offense. “even though you said we would meet again.” Petty and stubborn were the words you describe Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was rather protective and loyal to the people closest to her. You importantly, she greatly values you. And weeks ago, you promised her, however, things took a turn with your father and you had to abide. 

“And we have,” You grin, lovingly, holding her hands up to your chest. It was a subtle sign of an apology and care. You carried your promise, even if it had taken weeks to fulfill because of interpersonal matters. But you are here now, in front of her, your energetic personality never failing. “I have great news.” 

The silvery-haired princess seemed to take your understated gesture sincerely as she closed the gap between you two. Curiosity caught her gaze as her lavender orbs did not move away from your own. “Well, what is it?” Suddenly you’re aware you’ve kept a tight grip on Rhaenyra as she allowed you to trap both her hands. The close intimacy is acknowledged by you when you try not to break away your gaze from hers. Alicent seemed visibly bothered by it but you are not facing her to know. 

The wind whistles in anticipation, and the Weirwood tree heaves and blows the dead leaves off of its branches. The luscious green fields dance back and forth in little tiny unison. The scent of dirt and fresh mint is present. As you inhale deeply before revealing, “I claimed a dragon.” 

A moment of silence before a heaved gasp came from the Hightower princess. 

“Congratulations!” 

You can feel the butterflies float up to your chest when you see both of the girl's expressions in a state of happiness and revelation. You give an animated smile, “Thank you!”

“Are you joking?” You can see on Rhaenyra’s face, she is still in shock which morphs into pleasure and ecstasy. 

You shake your head enthusiastically, and repeatedly, shaking both you and the Princess in a hop. “No!”

“Oh thank the gods!” Your cousin blurts, embracing you in a well-deserved embrace. Her arms coil around your back with a squeeze. The encouragement both Rhaenyra and Alicent had given you was something you cherished dearly. For the longest time, you blame yourself for not being able to claim a dragon. No egg would hatch or a wild dragon would approach you. You studied and performed all the ways to encounter them. Yet none had prevailed and up until recently, you felt exasperated on the idea of bonding with a dragon. You were extremely jealous of Laenor and Rhaenyra for their impeccable bond. You and Laena longed for it for your entire lives, it made you moody and neglectful. 

Therefore their support had kept you least tolerable. Your mother and father were understanding and patient with your fits. Even King Viserys and Queen Aemma sometimes consoled you that one day you would claim a dragon. Whichever dragon you did not care for, you knew your companion was out there. 

“Which dragon did you claim?” The brunette girl comes to your side, eager and curious to know what of your new beast. 

“Yes, which one did you claim?” Your silver-haired cousin urges, shaking your hands back and forth. 

You felt like a bubble waiting to pop with excitement. You wanted all the streams and ribbons the castle could offer to be released for your accomplishment. You took a deep breath before letting out a slow exhale to calm your beating heart. “Vermithor.” 

In an instant, Rhaenyra’s face falls. “Vermithor.” 

“Yes, Vermithor!” You were blinded by the enthusiasm Alicent portrayed with her hands, clapping and squealing in awe at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Vermithor!” The Hand’s daughter takes your left hand and swirls her thumbs around your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you!” Again the call of your name is murmured frankly and in reverence. “One of the largest dragons alive in the world and you had claimed it!” 

Satisfaction filled your chest. Nothing could compare to the prideful looks your friends and family had for you on this day. It truly was something to celebrate something this spectacular. Not since Jaehaerys, your great grandfather rode the dragon. Your mother would surely want you to ride Vermithor immediately as he was still considered wild. But if Jaehaerys managed to tame the beast, you knew you could. 

She could not explain it. Rhaenyra had always thought highly of you. She would disparage you out of anything. You were too pure for her frustration. What is she angry about? The princess could not explain. But whenever she passed the corridors of the Keep or the chambers of her mother’s ladies in waiting, she would hear the praise and compliments for your achievement. My, haven't you heard? The youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon claimed Vermithor! The dragon King Jaehaerys rode! It must be fate. 

To what end was it fated? Dragons chose their riders. It was unclear how the bonds between rider and dragon existed but it was something genuine. So it shouldn’t confuse her when she sees you when on Driftmark, practicing to fly with the Bronze Fury. You struggled the first few times. She recalls those moments well, laughing and teasing you to no end of the amount of times you fell into the mud. Mounting on a dragon was a gradual adjustment. As she stared into the view of the ocean shore and deep gray-blue waters, you and your dragon were by the shorelines, attempting to be in sync with one another. A few feet from you was Rhaenys. As commanding and benevolent she was to you and not to her. 

Rhaenys Targaryen was quick-witted. She never had a great relationship with the Queen who Never Was. But in contrast, she was soft to you and held untainted remorse for her youngest child. Meleys was beside her rider, cooing and staring at you and Vermithor in inquiry. Much similar to her companion, Rhaenys said something Rhaenyra could not understand before watching you shake your head in disbelief. Vermithor was a grueling and deadly creature. The fact that you were young did not change its attention. It croaks and cranes its neck down for you to climb on its upper back. 

A saddle was neatly strapped on the beast. It must take ages to put on. Vermithor was known for his savage behavior. Yet if you were present with him, she deems he would have been docile to take care of. 

“Why are you pouting?” 

It was the late evening on Driftmark when she proposed a walk with you along the beach line. It was the many hobbies you both enjoyed in your homeland. Salt and sea were everywhere as opposed to her home, King’s Landing filled with endless brick walls and dust. The island is peaceful and serene when there are no fishing ships in the water. Rhaenyra can never be tired of the view and the sea salt air Driftmark supplies. It’s refreshing and so calm. 

“I’m not pouting.” The Princess of Dragonstone argues, her off tone marks it remarkable that her fickle state of mind. She should know better. You know her well, more than most of her maids and sometimes father. 

“You are,” The corners of your lips curve as you kick a few clumps of sand off the ground. “I’ve noticed since coming here, you’ve been…distant.” A personality all of your siblings share is your tenderness. Laena had a graceful heart and Laenor a compassionate one. Yours was resilient. You held onto things for far too long and you’re incredibly devoted to the people you love. You become easily attached to things, people, and the attention. Can she blame you? For a long time, you felt ridiculed and ashamed for your lack of a dragon. Your sadness must be more out of sympathy than Laena’s. By the time your sister claimed Vhagar, you were left as an outcast. 

The Realm’s Delights huffs, crossing her arms behind her back. “Seasick I suppose,” In truth, she never was seasick. Rhaenyra had traveled to Driftmark many times to be immune to the sickness. She knew it was a weak lie, one you would catch easily. But she did not like being confronted on whatever was on your mind. 

“Nonsense,” You jest, before stomping both your feet firmly into the brown sugar sand. Your stance makes the princess stop. “I know you dislike Vermithor.” 

She looks at you, astonished. “What?” 

You push further into the dirt until your heels are engulfed. “I can see it, Rhaenyra. You do not like him.”  Your assumption makes her head spin. Because in what world would she have any disregard against a dragon? Rhaenyra adored all dragons the same. They were a part of her family’s legacy. But she figures you must’ve seen her sometimes glare in the direction of your dragon to believe she had no love for the Bronze Fury. 

The silver-haired girl shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” She did not want to explain this to you. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her feelings, Rhaenyra deems you unfit to hear such nonsense. “It’s more childish than that.”

Your head quirks sideways. You looked confused as your eyebrows rose as well. She can feel the winds pick up as the tides come toward you both. Its cold water brushes past your feet but you ignore it completely. “How so?” 

Must she explain at such a time? “I must admit, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling remorseful.” She quipped, finding the freezing chill of the sea comforting for this kind of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen me grow bitter, even resentful towards you and Vermithor. For that I apologize but- it’s a small feeling.” 

“You feel resentful towards me and Verm?” She can see your eyes flicker, as you contemplate and allow your mind to take in her words. Your loose hair is down, you’re gorgeous. Even in your night clothes and were of the absence of jewelry and pretty colors. 

“Was,” She reaffirms, unable to look you in the eye. Rhaenyra feels ashamed for feeling this way. She does not want to hurt your feelings. “The attention, the people, they spoke of you for days about what you have done, claiming King Jaehaerys dragon. All everyone wanted to do was talk about you and how you proved yourself to become the greatest rider.” The more she rambles, the hot tears flood her vision. She does not seem weak to you. She was spilling her truth to you, she had to let it out. 

You held a calm expression. “But I’m not the greatest rider,” Yes, you were not. Your bond was still young. You still struggled with communicating with Vermithor sometimes daily. How can you be considered the greatest even when you struggled to mount your dragon? 

“That is what the people say,” Accidently your cousin snaps but quickly regains her composure. She looks at her feet and the sand below. It was as if she pleaded for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive, you’re angry. You’d say but she continues. “I was sick and tired of it all. Even my father spoke highly of you and it offended me. Why do I feel this way? I should be happy for you!” The mist around you clouds the floor. It’s sombrous and cool to touch. Everything Rhaenyra had held back was gone and it felt somewhat cathartic. She knows you must’ve felt hurt by her words, she was harsh.

She was afraid to touch you. But you did not care, gripping her forearm suddenly. Rhaenyra’s gaze finally breaks and stares at you, wide-eyed. Her tear-filled eyes shattered your heart, fully aware of her fragile condition. “I don’t blame you for what you feel, Rhaenyra. I too felt the same way when Laena claimed Vhagar, do you remember it? I was restless, unable to sleep at night - why couldn't I do what she had done.” The Princess of Dragonstone does not pull away from your grasp but simply gazes at your quivering lips. “I grew to be resentful of my sister. My heart grew dark and left people in danger. I regret feeling this way towards her now because of it. Do you understand?” 

The expression on your face said it all as she observed. The strained look flashed before you as you recounted the painful memories. In the days after Laena’s bond, you were cruel and cold. You spoke less to your family, ashamed and poisoned by jealousy. You would snap at the sailors more often and drive them into more dangerous scenarios to spite them. Your pettiness was revolting to watch, your father, Corlys growing instantly tired of your immature tantrums for something you could not control. He would cry out to you about how ignorant your actions were and then dismiss your privileges to sailing his ships. All while your mother felt she could do nothing to stop you in your frustration. She watched from a distance as her husband criticized you openly for your infuriating flaws, making it known to all you had gone too far. 

Slow but surely, when you stepped closer to her gave you the courage to tell her what needed to be heard. “I cannot change what you feel, but if you wish for me to leave, then please tell me.” You huffed in pain as your cold fingers traced along her arm and then moved to her hands. In some ways like this, you were fragile like porcelain. Sometimes Rhaenyra forgot you were younger than her. And now she felt like the childish one. 

“No, I—” She gulps, her fear evident. She didn't want to lose you as well. “Please don’t go.”

Your eye-opening conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Connecting with the Bronze Fury required some time to adapt to both yourself and those around you. As the newest rider, you felt the world embracing you. However, what you cherished most was the experience of riding. You hailed from Old Valyria, with the blood of the Dragon in your veins. Riding with Vermithor became a daily routine, a privilege you savored. It was the most incredible gift you could have received.

Rhaenyra slowly became accepting of it as well. You can tell by the way her lips curl when you mount off of your dragon, that she was proud of you. You were a dragon rider! Now, you and she could soar through the skies for eternity if you wished. It was a dream come true, and you were overjoyed that she had forgiven you.

When you were above the skies, it was breathtaking. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. You admit now why you found Rhaenyra’s obsession with flying to be so addicting. It was. When you’re up there, it feels as though nothing matters but you and the pale blue heavens. Vermithor would always groan in his grumpy way to show affection. He enjoyed riding above, you’ve felt his calm heartbeat and knew he too felt as relaxed as you did. When Rhaenyra joined you, which was a regular occurrence, you two would race. Up and down the clouds, like both of you danced in between the midst.

She looked dashing in her rider’s uniform. Black leather, plastered to resemble dragon scales alongside matching gloves. You resembled a familiar approach, having bronze leather strapped all over to stimulate Vermithor’s charming scales. You reminisced that he even once nudged at you from behind as a sign of appreciation for it.

Vermithor, the ruthless wid dragon growing soft because of you. You always had your chance to mention it to him before riding as a reminder of your sincere relationship. As a rider and dragon, the two of you bonded over adventure and tricks. You loved exploring the faraway lands to only encourage the Bronze Fury more driven to fly. 

But there were also moments when you were reminded of how reckless you could be with him. On the morning of your uncle’s name day, you convinced Rhaenyra to fly out to the Estermount Sea, close to the Triarchy of Essos. At first, the princess urged you of the danger, the Triarchy were pirates who paraded in raiding others for fun. Additionally, they had been targets of your father’s ships, disrupting trade. Yet you dismissed her pleas and pursued with an eager grin. 

The first few moments entering the sea territory were quiet. Both of you were mindful of the harsh waves there and how foggy it was similar to the Stormlands. But Rhaenyra persisted with her worries when you wanted to challenge her to dive down close to the sea. 

“We shouldn’t be here!” Her lilac eyes were defined with anxiousness as the princess held her dragon’s reins tightly. However you were indifferent, all too casual in uncharted areas. 

“We’re fine! We’re high enough in the sky!” you shout, a broad grin stretching across your face as you gaze at the small islands of Essos below. They look both foreign and beautiful. You’ve never ventured this far from home before.

But that was the last moment of calm you experienced. Suddenly, a harpoon appeared out of nowhere, narrowly missing you and Vermithor by the shoulder. The weapon moved with such speed and force that you had no time to process what was happening. Rhaenyra saw it clearly—she watched as the massive arrow zipped past you, inches away from your body, before plunging into the sea below. Someone had attempted to attack you. The worst followed: the harpoon's impact sent you and Vermithor into a chaotic frenzy. You leaped as your dragon swerved violently, causing you to be thrown from your saddle. For a moment, your body was there, and then it wasn’t.

The princess screamed in desperation, urgently commanding Syrax to dive into the water in an attempt to catch your falling body. Your dragon was beside hers, plummeting and speeding towards the sea floor as you descended. With a whoosh, Vermithor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing you from a fatal plunge. His claws, though sharp, gripped you with surprising gentleness, and you stared in terror as he held you safely.

The memory was deeply distressing. Your hair was now disheveled and tangled from the fall. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin glistening and drenched. Rhaenyra could only sob with relief, feeling utterly exhausted and wishing it were all just a nightmare. Yet it was all too real. She felt Syrax’s comforting purr in response to her discomfort. Her father and yours would have been shouting endlessly about this.

Despite everything, all she could remember was the devastated look on your face.

It was madness. Jacaerys would tell her, her son parading around her room as they waited for all of the Targaryen bastards to arrive. Here she was, Rhaenyra Targaryen, in Dragonstone, pursuing the inevitable. The idea of recruiting Dragon Seeds was bizarre but what choice did she have? There was no one left in her family who could claim one. Distant Houses with the blood of Valyria were risky. She had to sacrifice one of her knights to do it. Perhaps this was the only way to win the war. 

Years without your presence brought Rhaenyra sorrow and time to reflect on herself. It had been long since she was gifted to speak your name so openly. Everyone knew of her relationship with you. The princess cherished you deeply and with your absence, left the Realm soulfully longing. Rhaenys despises her because of it. She wondered if part of the princess's resentment was directly tied towards you or the fact she was given the title of heir or both. Yet after Alicent’s son had taken her throne, Rhaenys stood by her side, as did her husband. 

Meeting all of the Targaryen bastards was daunting at first. Rhaenyra knew many infidelities were common for any lord to allow their seed to spread. To witness so many of them in a room made her all the more encouraged to believe her plan would succeed. It must, it should. She could feel all of their eyes focus entirely on her like a beacon of hope. They believed what they were doing was right to protect the realm. And for that, she will use it to attain. 

The Dragonpit had never felt so cold or so secure. It was secluded within a murky cave, miles tall and wide. It’s humid, water drips everywhere as the Black Queen strides down onto the platform where the dragon would be summoned. Forty or so Dragon Seeds followed her, paranoid and trembling about what was to come. She would have to believe in the gods, Rhaenyra sighed. If there is a strategy better than this, she would take it. But Alicent’s son had taken something from her by force and for that, she could not comply. 

“Come forward, Vermithor.” Her accent revealed her fluency in the High Vayrlian language. Rhaenyra readied herself for the beast. Seconds of silence loomed over all those in the Dragonpit like a neverending time bomb. The wait was excruciating yet the inevitable was daunting to witness. Out of the shadows comes a growl, which causes a few of the Dragon seeds to slightly panic. But the Queen knew better. And Vermithor as well.

He looms, towering over the cockpit like a living nightmare. His crooked teeth glowed an intimidating appearance for all, and the simmer of his bronze scales shined. “Obey! Stay calm, Vermithor!” Commanded by Rhaenyra as she stares up at the beast, unafraid. She holds an imposing scowl before witnessing the Bronze Fury lower his snout. The Black Queen reaches out of her hand, cautiously and slowly. 

Her hand makes contact with his snout and calmly Rhaenyra recognizes the sense of calm Vermithor had with her whenever you were around. It felt as though he resembled your presence and familiarity. This intuition puts a warm smile on her face. 

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: D-16/Megatron x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: After witnessing your conjunx endura descend into madness, you're left alone with your thoughts as the city of Iacon slowly begins to rebuild anew. However, your lover visits you the night he was banished from the city.  Warnings/Tags: Bittersweet, slight angst, cybertronian reader, pre-established relationship, possible corruption, ambiguous ending, and spoilers for the Transformers One movie.  Word Count: 1200+ words 

Something was wrong. 

You knew something was wrong when you felt something burst within your spark chamber. Your digits brushed against the space where your T-cog would be and…

You winced as the pain shot through the bond again. You could describe it as the feeling of sharp pieces of Energon flowing through your circuits. Hot and angry, then as somber as ice. 

Working in the Energon mines meant that danger could be lurking around the corner at any given moment. 

You understood this fact well, especially when working in the same crew as your sparkmate and his best friend. 

The rambunctious duo always had something going wrong for them as the cycles passed. Sometimes you ended up with the short end of the stick when you joined in on the 'fun.' On the other, you were watching from the sidelines as the two would get punished for their (mostly Orion's) schemes. The emotions shared through the bond were as warm as joy, slight pinches coming from D's annoyance, and the gentle touch of the love you two shared discreetly. 

 

So, why were you only sensing pain? 

What was happening to your lover? Was he safe? Did someone hurt him? Where was Pax while your conjunx endura's chaotic turmoil nearly made your optics teary? 

Where was he? 

Where was D-16? 

 

—--

Orion was shorter….the last time you interacted with him. 

Now? He easily towered over the crowd like a sore digit. You were beside yourself as your strained audials to listen to his words. 

Betrayal, Sentinel, Change. 

They were empowering, not quite heavy but it certainly stirred hope among the miners as they cheered. 

But, what of D-16? 

For a moment, Orion's optics met yours and confirmed your fears.

Something had happened to D-16. 

Here in the open for all of the citizens of Iacon to see was the fall of Sentinel Prime. His end? An impostor sharing the face of your mate who claimed the title of 'Megatron.' 

Who was this stranger with the face of your lover and why couldn't you feel him through the bond anymore? 

You remembered trying to tug at the bond, pulling and twisting to get something to react in response to your desperation. Your optics never strayed from the figure who stood above all of you. 

Yet, nothing came. Wait…

You could have sworn you saw 'Megatron's' optics scanning the crowd before they found their way to yours. 

Time slowed for the first time and you tried to search for anything, something in that stranger's optic for any presence of D-16. 

For a moment, the fiery glow of those optics dimmed. 

Then….

He turned away and never looked back in the direction where you stood again. 

Not even after Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime, banished him from Iacon. 

Your spark broke that day. 

Darkness covered the desolate area where most miners spend their nights in recharge. You stood before your conjunx endura berth, digits caressing the chipped stickers he had collected over time of his idol. The lights shining from your optics misted and you leaned closer to rest your forehelm on the space that once belonged to D-16. 

"____." A voice spoke from behind you.

You spun around and threw a punch, but the massive servo enveloping your servo stunned you. 

"D…?" You murmured in disbelief. 

'D-16' narrowed his optics and didn't respond when you pulled your servo out of his. 

"It's...Megatron now." 

"Right, right, sorry…I'm a little late on the new…this," You threw your hand up to gesture to his shiny, new frame. 

'Megatron' didn't appear amused at your sass and even drew closer to you. His steps felt daunting with each step he took as if the ground of the miners quarters would buckle beneath his weight. 

Backing up against the berth put into perspective how smaller you were compared to the mech. Megatron stepped closer and closed the distance between the two of you. He raised a servo near your faceplate, a low growl left his intake as you turned defiantly. 

 

"Did you not see why I had to do this? Why I had to become-" 

"-Ha!" You snorted and snapped your helm to look at him. "You mean when I tried 'seeing' you earlier? I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who cut off their sparkmate from the bond  for no reason." 

"And another thing." You pushed against the edges of the berth and stepped forward with your chassis bumping against his. The larger mech could easily shove you back, but retreated as you approached. The silver mech mesmerized by the way your optics flickered into a darker shade only to snap out of it when you questioned him with, "Why did you return to me? Why now? I was certain you'd abandon me-" 

"-do you think so lowly of me as well?!" Megatron pushed back. His servo stretched to catch you when you stumbled, but dropped it when you flinched from his approaching touch. 

His servo was clenched as he drew it back to his side. Digits rubbed together to replace the lack of heat that usually came from your frame held under his grasp.

With a tilt of your helm, you asked, "I don't know anymore…one moment I'm happy spending the rest of my days with my sparkmate, but he disappears, and then returns as a power-hungry tyrant…what else am I supposed to think of you, D…no…Megatron?" 

Megatron did not speak, not that he knew how to. 

Silence fell upon the lovers, neither willing to break the tension. Not until now. 

"I came here…to see you," D-16 yielded. His soft voice easing the suspicion gnawing at you ever since he arrived, finally your frame went lax as his face became familiar. This was your conjunx endura, the one you bonded with and not whoever was there previously. 

"To ask if you'll join me, my love." 

"What?" You hissed. 

"Come with me," Megatron urged. "I have risked everything coming back here for you and I will not ask again." 

You brought a servo to your helm and felt a pit grow in your tanks. 

"Join me because I promise you…" Megatron leaned down to hold your gaze, "...the next time we see each other will be the end of us." 

"I…" You glanced at his servo that reached for you, most likely for the last time. Your optical ridges furrowed and Megatron's optics shimmered with delight as your servo fell over his. The larger servo enveloped the smaller one and pressed the palm of your servo against his spark chamber. Right over the area where Sentinel's previous cog was ripped out of him. 

The memory struck a chord in you. Becoming the thing to make you sober from the high of what this relationship could have been. Should have been. 

It could still happen, only if you said yes…but what fate would fall on Iacon if you joined the one bot desiring the destruction of the new era? 

Megatron watched the conflict swimming on your face, his thumb caressing the back of your servo as the other came up to settle on your waist. 

 

After a while, you gave him your answer. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. cybercore/punk banner(s) by @kodaswrld !!

[sena-seastar]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: You try to help Aemond relax when the world outside your shared bedroom becomes too much for him to handle.

Warnings: slight angst & fluff

A/N: This fic is incredibly self-indulgent, as I am deeply infatuated with Aemond's hair. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

The soothing, gentle sound of crackling wood from the fireplace echoed in the air. The shadows of the flames danced along the walls of your and Aemond’s shared bedchamber. Lately, though, it seems like it’s just yours. Your husband had decided to sleep in his own private quarters for the past week. Something that perturbed you deeply. 

This week has been filled with the most restless nights you've had in years, leaving you thoroughly exhausted. You had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s strong arms. The two of you had never spent a night apart since your wedding night two years ago. The marriage had been arranged, of course, but the two of you had quickly become besotted with each other. 

Has your spark faded so soon?

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. Surely, you were just overthinking things. Aemond had his hands full with the threat of war looming on the horizon. It made sense that he would have little time for you. That was just something you would have to learn to accept.

You let your eyelids fall closed as you continue to run the brush through your hair. The day had quickly come and gone. The hour of ghosts was quickly approaching. You prayed that sleep would come easier tonight. Your poor mind and body craved a peaceful night's rest.

You jump on the small cushion bench you have been sitting on as your bedroom door slams open and closed—Aemond storms into the room. You watch quietly as he paces the room, mumbling angrily in high valyrian. You try to gauge what he is saying, but he is talking too quietly and far too quickly for you to understand. Even with the lessons Aemond and Maester Orwyle have given you over the past year and a half, it was nearly impossible to comprehend Aemond when he spoke so quickly.

You call him, but he ignores you. So you try again, this time much louder. His back is turned to you. You watch as he slowly turns, his eye wandering about the room as if it were some foreign place. You squirm in your seat when his gaze finally falls upon you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought I had gone to my room.”

Your heart sinks at the thought that he no longer considers this his room.

“It is yours, just as much as it is mine,” you shrug.

“Of course,” he mutters sheepishly, shuffling his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Has something happened?” You ask, hoping to draw him into a conversation before he tries to flee.

With an exasperated sigh, Aemond moved to the bed, sitting at the edge. He clenched the blanket tightly in his hands. The two of you sit in silence. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from badgering him with questions. He’ll never talk if you do that. The minutes feel like hours, but soon, he speaks.

“My mother is angry with me,” he says quietly. 

I should have known, you thought. You were well aware of the strain growing between your husband and good-mother since he had returned from Storm’s End. Since the murd- the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Your heart aches for your husband. You know how close Aemond was to his mother and how much she meant to him. No doubt, the distance between them was significantly affecting him.

“She blames me for starting this war. As if she and my father's council have not been plotting to usurp the throne for years,” he scoffed.

His voice was laced with anger and frustration. You want nothing more than to go to him. To reach out and soothe him, but you're afraid he will leave. This was the most time he had spent with you in a week. You were desperate for his attention.

“The realm is preparing for a war the likes of which Westeros has never seen. She is afraid.”

“Aren’t we all?” He snickered.

The two of you sat in silence. Aemond rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He seemed so small, almost like a child. Your heart grew heavy, weighed down by your worry and concern for your sweet husband. You wanted to help him, but you did not know how—or if he would even let you.

Your fingers twitch, curling around the brown wooden brush handle in your hand. You look down at it. A smile spreads across your lips as an idea finally comes to mind. You turn around, placing the brush down on the table before turning back towards him.

“Come here,” your soft voice cuts through the silence. You beckon Aemond closer with your hand.

Aemond lifts his head. The man looks at you apprehensively, his eye flickering towards the door. For a moment, you fear he will run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a slight nod and pushes himself up from the bed. You stand just as he’s about to reach you and quickly step aside. You gesture towards the cushioned bench, instructing him to sit. He hesitates but follows your instructions.

 Aemond sits up tall on the bench, his body tense and rigid. His violet eye watches you in the mirror as you step behind him.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his eyepatch.

His face goes pale, and for a moment, you regret asking. Perhaps you were overstepping. Though before you can apologize, he nods his head. Your heart skips a beat, overjoyed that he still trusted you enough to see him like this. You have to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

You try to steady your trembling fingers as you loosen the eyepatch strap. Your eyes flicker towards the mirror. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his violet eye is closed. He flinched, and his brows knit together as you pulled the eyepatch off his head. You freeze, unsure if you hurt him or he is just uncomfortable. It had been years since he had lost his eye, but it still caused him some discomfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked. 

He blinks, eye flickering towards you. He watches you, no doubt waiting for some sign of disgust or repulsion. But you give him none; you never have. In your eyes, he was perfection. You do your best to look at him with all of the genuine concern and admiration that you can muster.

“I-,” his voice cracked. He blushed and quickly cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine.” He answered, more assuredly this time.

You nod, leaning over his shoulder to carefully place the eyepatch on the table. Your finger moved back to his hair, gently tugging on the tie that held his hair away from his face. Thankfully, it slips off with ease. His hair falls forward, curtaining around his face. 

You gather the hair off his neck, drawing it onto his back. A soft sigh escapes him as your fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his neck.

You reach over his shoulder again, picking up the brush you had been using moments ago. His single eye falls closed as the brush touches his head. You go slowly, trying to be careful of any knots and tangles, though there are none. The brush skims through his silver tresses with ease. You find yourself growing envious, thinking of all the times you and your handmaids have had to wrestle with your hair. 

His hair shines like beaten silver under the candlelight. The sight is almost hypnotic. You continue with your work, letting the brush run through his silver strands again and again. Little by little, his facade crumbles, and his body relaxes under your touch. After a while, you put the brush back on the table. 

You massage his scalp with your fingertips. Aemond’s head is tilted back just a bit, and a soft hum echoes from his throat. The sound reminds you of a cat purring. You smile, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Carefully, you remove your fingers from his hair before brushing through it one more time.

“Would you like me to braid it?” You ask.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

You nod and get to work. You don’t do anything too extravagant, just a simple three-strand braid. Once you are finished, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“All done,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, sleepily.

You expect him to get you and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spins around on the bench. His large hands gently take hold of your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that you almost missed it.

“For what, my love?” You ask, gently caressing the side of his face with your fingertips.

“For this ... distance between us.”

“Oh,” you hum. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles. “I have been-”

You shush him and place a gentle kiss on his scarred brow. “All is forgiven.”

His lips part as he prepares to argue, but he doesn’t. He closed them and nodded, silently thanking you for your forgiveness. Silence takes over the room again, but it’s more comfortable this time. Aemond rubs circles on your hips, through your thin nightdress, with his thumbs.

“Perhaps I shall rest here tonight?” He suggests, avoiding your gaze.

“I would like that,” you smile.

Aemond stands, and you help him undress before the two of you make your way back to your shared bed. Your husband climbs into the bed after you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your back is pressed against his bare chest, and almost immediately, you can feel your mind at ease.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair.

You try to say it back but cannot, as sleep pulls you away from the waking world. You squeeze his hand in yours and hope he understands.

[surielstea]

“Forgive me, Darling.”

Based on this request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Rhys undermines Reader in front of the Hewn City, Reader makes him grovel before she accepts his apologies.

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ | p in v | apology sex | dom sub dynamics | riding | oral (f receiving) | Reader making Rhys grovel | multi-orgasm | cream-pie | mating press

A. Note: This was really an excuse for me to write some Rhys smut… RhysandWeek got to me I fear, half of it is smut so enjoy 😼🙏

4.7k words

It was an effort to sit next to the High Lord tonight. Even with Winter Solstice so steadily approaching we couldn't stop being at each other's throats for the past week. The others in the Inner Circle were sick of our tedious bickering by now, and the rest of the Court might as well be too.

It was clear to the citizens of the Hewn City that we weren't getting along the best when we sat in our own separate thrones, while I typically opted to sit in Rhys' lap or he on the armrest while I took the main throne.

But it was the citizens of the Hewn City themselves that had cleaved our relationship right in two. While I was a natural sympathizer for these people, Rhys seemed to have half a thought about their well-being.

It drove me mad how easily he could cherish and love something, then turn around and loathe something else with the same fierceness. It was manipulative and vexing.

"Your grace," Keir drawled with a low bow and Rhys lifted a brow at Morrigan's poor excuse of a father.

"What is it?" The High Lord mused, the perfect mask of bored coldness in his violet eyes.

"The court was wondering if you'd be donating to the gift drive this season, all funds would go directly to the orphaned children of course," Keir said with a tone that sent shivers down my spine.

Rhys opened his mouth to say no, but I spoke first. "Of course Keir. We're not monsters," I say, tossing my mate a lethal glare.

"Are you mad? No," He looked to Keir. "I will not be donating, but you can tell them their queen will have a heavy chunk coming from her paycheck," Rhys bit back and the verbal assault immediately bruised her, tearing her down for speaking over him in a place like this was one thing but, in front of Keir? Using him as a device to get under my skin? It was a new level of low.

I bit back a snarl. "You're both insufferable," I stand. "And you bore me," I step down the dais with a careful queenlike elegance that came with only decades of practice. "I'm going home, perhaps finish some last-minute gift shopping," I shrug, my black gown shimmering like the stars in the sky with each move I made.

"I'll join you momentarily," Rhys said with a hand up as if to pause me. I didn't wait for him to finish before I winnowed back to Velaris, alone.

I was born in the Hewn City, and though I knew it was best if Rhys put on a mask in front of that court, it was hard to watch my mate who had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever seen be so cruel, be exactly what those citizens had expected him to be. A monster. A shiver went down my spine at the thought. It was a part of my role as High Lady to back whatever Rhys decided, but it was a part of his role to do the same with me. And when it came to the children of the Hewn City I drew the line, they had done no wrong, and half of them were too young to even realize that their king was a halfbreed, much less why that meant he was seen as lesser. They were innocent, doomed for failure since the beginning because of who their parents were. I sympathized with the orphans and knew exactly how much a donation would've mean to me because I used to be one of them.

Rhys winnowed into the sitting room, writhing shadows feathering off of his dark tunic as he whirled towards me, brows drawn.

"What'd you do that for?" He frowns at me and I mirror it.

"Children Rhys? Should I even dare ask when it might end?" I prop my hands up on his hips and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You know how I handle those things, I tell Keir no and then donate anonymously," He explained, annunciating every word like I was hard of hearing. The tone set me off. He was right, that's how we did it every year for solstice since Rhys became High Lord.

But tonight was my breaking point after weeks of needless arguments. "Yes, Rhysand. I know." I grit my teeth and his frown deepens as he hears me use his full name, something I always did unconsciously when I wanted him out of my face.

"Then why did you say we'd donate?" He lifts a brow and my shoulders are practically up to my ears with the tension building.

"Because, Rhysand, I'm so sick of you pretending to be someone that you're not," Again, the name makes him flinch. "I know how much you're capable of loving, and I understand you trying to protect us but I can't bear seeing you so ruthless to those people," I explain and he lets out a long sigh.

"You don't seem to understand the impossible situation I'm in." He closes his eyes, needing to rest them if only for a moment.

"What don't I understand?" I grab his jacket, gently gripping it as I stare up at him. "I've been beside you every step of the way, talk to me Rhysand. Or this isn't going to work," I gesture between us and his back shoots ramrod straight, at the underlying threat of taking a break from each other. He loathed the idea, and would rather argue for the rest of his life with me than not have me in his life at all.

"Don't say stuff like that," He murmured, his voice clipped like he couldn't quite breathe right.

"Then think twice before undermining me in front of a male like Keir," I scowl. "Hewn City or not, you're not allowed to silence me." I brush past him, my shoulder ramming into his bicep as I stalk down the hall to our bedroom, shutting the door with a resounding thud, but Rhys remains pinned in the same spot, cursing himself over and over again for his foolish behavior.

Over the next few days, Rhys had done everything in his power to apologize. Giving me countless gifts, and heartfelt monologues about how sorry he was, he even donated a good portion of his gold to the Hewn City orphanage. But I didn't forgive him, because I was certain he had yet to understand how much this truly meant to me. Besides, a small part of me liked watching him grovel.

At dinner with the rest of the inner circle later that evening, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhys had reached for my hand beneath my table twice now and I shook him off both times. We had both silently agreed on pretending everything was normal between us in front of the others, not wanting to worry them about the health of their high lady and lord relationship. So I put on a mask, as he often did, and pretended everything was fine.

"I'll see you in a few days for solstice eve," I hum as Morrigan gives me a hug while standing halfway out the door in the cold.

"I got you an amazing gift!" She beamed while backing away and I gave her an incredulous look. There was no arguing that Morrigans gifts weren't unique and personalized, but they were far from amazing.

"I'm sure you did," I hum. "Goodnight, Mor," I lean against the archway of the foyer and she gives me a wave before slipping out the door. Once everyone was officially gone I turned back to the sitting room where Rhys was sitting, staring at me curiously like I was a thing to be analyzed. "What?" I bark, my smile dropping.

"You keep calling me Rhysand," He stands from his seat, looking at me with furrowed brows, his wings drooping slightly, nearly dragging on the floor as he strides towards me but stops an arm's length away.

"That's your name, is it not? Or would you like to argue about that as well?" I arch a brow and his frown deepens.

"No, I just— It's Rhys. It's always been Rhys between us, in fact, you're the reason everyone calls me Rhys." He claims and I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze on him.

"This is what has been bothering you? This? Out of everything that has been going on, me saying your full name has gotten under your skin the most?" I scowl, unbelieving of his childish behavior.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, defeated.

"I know," I state.

"Then why?" His voice wavers. "Why can't I be forgiven?" He takes another step forward, nearly closing the distance between us if it weren't for his height.

"Because I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." I snarl and his brows crease, his familiar violet eyes glazing over.

"No please, I have darling," He cups my cheeks in his hands. "I have. I'm sorry." His hands were so gentle when holding my face as if I might break if he was any rougher.

I debated giving in for a moment, if only because my desire to feel his lips on mine again would be comparable to heaven— but I stayed strong, my own pride willing me to break away from his touch. "I know," I repeat, before walking down the hall and into our bedroom, closing the door behind me loud enough for him to get the hint that I didn't want to see him again that night.

A few days had passed and it was solstice eve, I was in the midst of getting ready for bed when there was a soft knock on my door. I didn't turn when the door opened, I knew who it was before he was even down the hall.

Rhys doesn't say anything, just stares as I take out my earrings and unlace my dress. I didn't mind him looking as I stripped down and changed into a soft, midnight blue nightgown, perhaps I was rubbing in the fact that he couldn't have me. Once I was finished I walked over to my vanity and began to comb through my hair.

"I can feel you staring, Rhysand." I finally spoke and I swore he growled at the name. I ignore it. He pushes off the doorframe and enters the room.

"What can I do it make it better?" I turn towards him to find him directly behind me, looking down at me with beseeching eyes. "I'm begging you," He whispers, our proximity so close that his nose was brushing against mine.

"You're begging me?" I raise a brow.

"Gods, yes darling. Do you want me to get on my knees and plead?" He suggests and I just stare at him as a reply, waiting.

His brows raise a fraction when he realizes I'm serious, and I cross my arms impatiently. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he drops down onto his knees.

His hands come to my hips and he looks up at me, his chin propped up on my stomach as he lets out a soft, "Please."

"Please what?" I place my hands on his shoulders, one of them finding its way into his dark, midnight-black hair.

"Please, forgive me." He murmurs. "Please, don't make us take a break." He continues, his hands on my hips tightening slightly. "And please, let me love you the way you deserve."

He had once told me he'd only ever fall to his knees for his crown, yet here he was, bending for me with only sincere affection in his eyes and regret forever making me feel like he deserved this.

I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up, crashing his lips onto mine. I kiss him, deeply, with the passion and desire that had been building up for the past week. I had forgotten how addictive he was and didn't realize how badly I needed him until he leaned into the kiss and filled the gaping void inside of me with warmth.

"I missed you so damned much, darling," He sighs and I smirk against his lips.

"Yeah?" I slip from his grasp and take a seat on the bed. "Why don't you come over here and show me?" I purr, letting my legs fall open as he prowls towards me and again, gets down onto his knees.

I smile devilishly at him as he begins kissing and nipping at my thighs, beginning to make amends with his mouth rather than words.

His covetous hands slip beneath my short nightgown, gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I lay back onto my elbows, propped up enough to watch him as he made his way up my thighs.

Ever so gently, he pulls at my undergarments and I lift my hips for access so he can further slip the panties down my legs. With reverence his eyes flick down to my glistening core, then back up to my eyes, his gaze holding a certain emotion I don't think I've ever seen the High Lord hone before.

I nod my head and he wastes no time before placing an open mouth kiss to my folds, then dragging it through my slit in a slow, savoring lap. I let out a soft moan at the feeling of his warm tongue finding my clit with a languid stroke. My fingers weave into his hair as he begins to suck on the bundle of nerves, sending me into a spiral.

I looked down at him but he was already staring up at me. But once he sees my lustful expression he can't seem to control himself before he dips down and spears his tongue into me. I release a breathy moan at the intense feeling. How could I have ever robbed myself of this for so long? Gods it was evil the things he could do with that mouth.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he devoured me like a man starved, his tongue-twisting and curling against a sensitive spot that sent me closer to the edge. I was unable to stop myself from grinding up onto his face, and he let out a guttural groan as I did so, because he knew then that I wanted him, that he was making me feel this good.

I maintained eye contact with him as he continued to drive me wild, violet irises filled with both apologies as well as desire. He draws one of my legs over his shoulder to deepen his access and I pull at his hair.

"That's it, gods yes," I gripe as his tongue toys with the sensitive area nestled deep inside of me.

My head falls back to look up at the ceiling as he brings one of his hands down and his thumb begins to roll over my clit. I whimper at the stimulation, my toes curling as he begins rubbing tight circles. I buck my hips at the intense feeling and he groans against the feeling of me tugging on his hair, the sound reverberating up my spine. "That's my girl," He purrs as my release steadily approaches. "Come on my face, fall apart for me my darling," He says, his voice tender as he coaxes your climax to draw closer.

I couldn't deny his demand, my pleasure too high to even debate it. My peak reaches and with a cry, my body convulses and an intense wave of pleasure crashes through me. He supports me, his arms around my thighs grounding me, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his tongue from my entrance and softly laps up my dripping folds, his mouth shimmering in my essence. But it was only pride in his eyes as I came down from my high that I recognized, pride and, something far more primal than human.

"I forgot how good you taste," He whispers against my core, cleaning every lost drop from me with his mouth.

Slowly, he backed away, licking his lips that were glistening in my arousal.

"I want to ride you," I confess and his brows shoot up with carnal desire. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down onto the bed, his head falling into the pillows as I flipped over him and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

His hands joined mine, helping me by thrashing it off. I smile and attach my lips to his tanned skin, my tongue running over the lines of his tattoo while he frees himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock already leaking with need. I bite at my lower lip as I grip his length, spreading his pre and using it as a natural lubricant. I pumped him once, then twice. My grip was rough and tight, his head fell back into the pillows as he groaned in pleasure.

"Oh, my darling," He sighs out as I press my thumb to his sensitive tip.

His hands come to my thighs as I lift onto my knees and begin dragging his cock through my folds, prepping him for an easy entrance. I swore he got harder the moment my arousal met his.

He looked back at me, his eyes low-lidded. "You look like a goddess," He breathes, his voice husky with restraint. I knew he wanted to push me down onto him, to take dominance and flip me onto my back. But he reigned in his control and kept himself at bay for now.

I smile devilishly at him as I aligned his throbbing cock with my entrance. His eyes flicked down to the view and I froze. "Look at me," I direct and his violet eyes flick back up to my gaze, and I watch his expression as I sink myself down to him so very slowly, inch by inch.

His face contorts into a mix of pleasure and agony. "This is torture," He hisses, his fingers digging into my thighs in an effort to keep restraint. "Please, darling," He whispered the plea and I couldn't help but fold under his yearning gaze.

"Please what?" I say through a soft moan, the stretch of him painful at first yet turned into pure pleasure moments later.

"Please, take all of me and move, now baby," He pants out and I smirk.

"I'm barely halfway down and I've got you this worked up?" I tilt my head demeaningly and he lets out a low, guttural growl.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me, so please, you can take it," He begs and I smile.

"I know I can, but can you?" I murmur, tracing lines along his torso, following his dark tattoo.

"Oh I can," He sighs, his eyes glinting with amusement and I realize he wasn't strained from needing more, he was in agony because his control was thinning. "But if you don't take all of me right now, I'm going to flip us over and fuck you until we both forget our own names." He warns and I smirk, leaning forward— in doing so making him slip deeper inside of me, the new angle eliciting a soft moan from me.

"Is that right?" I purr, my nails trailing down the side of his neck.

"Last chance, baby." His jaw feathers. "Sit down or I'm taking over," He snarls, gripping my hips tighter, prepared to make true of his threat. I smile, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

I do as he says anyway, not wanting to take any chances. I let gravity make my last movement and allow myself to take all of his length, every last inch until he was fully sheathed inside of me and I was seated on him fully.

He lets out a long, deep moan, his head falling back into the pillows. "Gods, such a good girl," He praises, taking a few deep breaths and regaining his control.

Slowly I begin to rock my hips back and forth over him and he jerks at the movement, his hands tightening on my thighs as he begins to guide me over him, showing me exactly how fast he wanted me to go.

He lets out a string of curses as I set a pace, rolling and grinding over him, my thighs already burning with the movements. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?" he says and I nod, as he slowly lifts me up on him, then pushes me back down, sending me into a rhythm. I began to bounce up and down on him, his thick length burrowing deep inside of me with each descent.

I keep eye contact with him, tears welling in mine as he lifts me faster, my breasts bouncing with the movement, and his captivating eyes don't miss it. "So beautiful," He whispers softly, his voice hoarse and strained as a string of moans escapes me.

"You like that baby?" He purrs, his gaze only sultry. I reply with a moan and a wicked smile forms over his lips as he pushes me to go faster, slamming me down into his hips, his tip brushing over my cervix.

He was enjoying this far too much, he was savoring the way I sounded, the way my body reacted. So desperate for a second release. I lean down, changing the angle and allowing him to hit my most sensitive point with the thick head of his cock.

"Gods, you feel so good wrapped around me like this," He purrs, his breath hot against my neck as his canines scrape against it.

I continue to fuck myself on him, my vision blurring as he abuses that sacred spot inside of me. "I'm close," I grunt, clenching my hands into fists as he spears into me, lifting his hips to help me reach that high.

"Yeah? Going to come, love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod, tears now slipping down my cheeks despite all my efforts to be in control.

"Yes, I can't control it much longer," I mewl, burying my nose into the crook of his neck.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "That's okay, come for me darling," He allows and I find release, I finally meet my second orgasm.

"Rhys," I moan loud enough for the next room over to hear. Not Rhysand, but Rhys. The male's length twitches at the sound he so desperately had been needing to hear for the past week.

He didn't let me come down from my high for even a moment as he flipped me over onto my back, taking full control as he guided my legs up to my sides, folding me into a mating press.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling," He drawls huskily and my heart pounds against my ribs hard.

He pulls out to his tip and for a moment I'm gifted a kernel of relief, but it quickly ended when he pushed into me, spearing hilt deep as his heavy balls slapped into my ass. Arousal dripped down my thighs as he continued the movement and I turned into a moaning mess.

"You're so tight," He grunted out between thrusts. "Say my name again," He orders and I open my teary eyes to see him above me, his dark wings spread over us. Gods, he looked like a fucking devil like this. "Rhys," I plea and he smiles wolfishly.

"That's my girl, taking me so well," He praises, continuing to piston inside my puffy, overstimulated cunt.

He reaches down and I swear my heart stops as he makes contact with my pink clit. I whimper, my bottom lip wobbling as he pushes me towards yet another orgasm. "Come on baby, squeeze my cock," He demands and I writhe beneath him, clenching every inch of his length as he brushes my cervix repeatedly. His words and groans are a constant stream of encouragement as I hurtle toward my third orgasm.

I let out a loud, broken cry as my climax rips through me, each one more intense than the last. "Please, please tell me you're close," I beg as he lets out a choked groan, his movements becoming more and more erratic as control slips from his grasp. "Fuck, I am baby, I'm close," He pants out and I mewl his name desperately.

"Rhys, Rhys," I murmur like a chant, my mind too fucked out to think of anything else, just him.

"Look at me, I want you to watch while I come inside of you." He purred and my stomach twisted at his filthy words. My hands come around to his shoulders and I dig my nails into the muscle, clawing them down his back at the intense, unrelenting thrusting.

With a feral, desperate groan he buries his nose into my neck and finds his release, his warm seed spilling inside of me.  He shakes and trembles at the weight of his climax, he collapses down onto me, his body heavy and spent. His face was still buried in my neck as he regained his breath. "Fuck, I love you so much," He confesses as the sounds of our breathing fill the room.

"I love you, too," I whisper hoarsely, my voice shot from screaming his name. He nuzzles into my neck, placing gentle kisses along my collarbone slowly guiding my legs down and pulling from my entrance. "I'm sorry baby, I know you wanted to be in control but I— I can't help myself around you," He murmurs and I smile, pulling him into me for a loving kiss.

"Don't apologize, felt so good," I murmur tiredly. "Maybe we should argue more often," I add and he frowns at the idea and I giggle. "I missed you."

His eyes light up with pure adoration. "I missed you too," He hums, easing into the bed beside me and gathering me into his arms. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

The rush of solstice has passed and everything has returned to normal— well, almost everything.

The Court of Nightmares was teeming with its usual negative energy, the air thick with it. I had been seated in my own throne again, not quite ready to take up Rhysand’s lap in front of all the subjects again.

“My Lord,” Keir bowed low before the dais, then turned to me and gave me a simple bow of his head. Rhys gripped the arms of his throne at the action but remained calm all the same.

“What?” The high lord snarled.

“The price of the renovations of the homes in the slums are steadily increasing, to something far greater than what we can afford with the money you’ve so graciously given.” He hums and I sit up. I grew up in the slums, I would’ve taken a man’s life for the opportunity to proceed with the renovation plans I had given Rhys a few days ago, would’ve taken a lot more than a life to give to that community, actually.

“Then we’ll triple the funds,” I state and Keir casts me a glance, then looks back to Rhys. I wanted to rip his face off. I was seated on a throne before his people, I had the power to tear this entire court down and yet he treats me with such disrespect and contempt.

“Why are you still here?” Rhys asked the steward. “My High Lady has just answered your issue, did she not?” Rhys tilts his head with creased brows.

“Of course, my lord,” Keir bows to the male, and something in his spine locks and I know, know that Rhys’s talons had captured Keirs mind and was prepared to shatter it, until Keir turned to me and bowed at the waist, then lower, nearly falling to his knees.

“Dismissed.” Rhys hummed, waving his hand and releasing the males mind.

I smile as I watch him leave, and settled a little deeper into my throne. Oh, I liked this a little too much.

A flicker of Rhysand’s darkness curled caressed up my neck, to trace the contours of my jaw. I turn to look at him and give him a wicked smile, he mirrors it and we turn back to the Nightmare of a court we ruled over, together.

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[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 1

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuations, and cursing (as always)

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N sighed as she stared at her suitcase. She would never get it closed without breaking the zipper. She opened it again, going through the selection of clothes while she asked herself which of her items weren’t absolutely necessary. The unfortunate answer was that she needed everything. 

She had wild plans for the short vacation her brother had invited her on. According to him, she had been too stressed the last couple of months, and she desperately needed some time off. Along with the promise that he’d take care of everything, she had agreed to join his trip. She could use a one-night stand, or two and a little flirting to get her mind off her busy job.

However, there was the small nuisance of Lando coming along. Ever since he gained some confidence after his career took off and girls started herding him, he had been mocking her and making extremely inappropriate comments. He had changed over the years and Max had told her all about it. He told her about his new endeavours with the ladies; how he brought a different girl home every weekend and never spoke to them again. The attention was feeding his ever-growing ego, and it annoyed Y/N endlessly. He needed someone to put him in his place, and she would volunteer every time.

She smiled triumphantly when she finally zipped her suitcase closed with half an hour to spare. Sitting on her couch and scrolling on her phone, she waited for her brother to pick her up on his way to the airport. They greeted each other quickly before they took off, Y/N and Pietra catching up and discussing their plans for the week as Max drove.

Once they arrived at the airport, she spotted Lando all too quickly, casually leaning against a pillar near the check-in. He was wearing sunglasses (inside – like some lunatic) and a cocky smile on his face when he saw them approaching. 

“Y/N Fewtrell. It’s been a while…”

“If only it lasted longer,” She responded.

Lando smiled at her reply, enjoying her feisty character whereas Max hissed into her ear, “Play nice.” 

“Let’s board?” Lando asked. “The jet’s ready, I think.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Private?”

“Yes. Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed before rolling her suitcase to the plane.

The group arrived at their destination in no time – flying private really did have its perks – and drove the rental car to the resort. Taxis were a no-go when half of the people on the trip were professional drivers, and apparently, so were ordinary cars. 

The porter took the bags out of the trunk and Lando handed the keys to the valet driver before they entered the hotel. Y/N took a seat in one of the luxurious chairs in the hotel lobby while she let her brother manage the check-in. She was people-watching when the group joined her.

“Okay… So, there’s been a little mishap…” Y/N looked at her brother with narrowed eyes.

“What did you do?” She said in a low tone.

“So, I may have forgotten to book an extra room for you…” Max admitted.

“What?”

“And they have no other rooms left, even the most expensive ones are taken.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“I’m not,” he paused, “but, you can share with Lando.”

Of course, Lando would oh-so-heroically offer to share his room with her. She could just smack the smirk right off his face.

“Max, can I talk to you for a minute – in private?” Y/N asked, an innocent smile on her face, before forcefully pulling her brother aside.

“I can’t sleep in the same room as Lando, Max. I had plans for this vacation, plans that can’t happen if I’m sharing a room with Lando.”

Max raised an eyebrow at her insinuation but didn’t comment on it. “Well, what other option do you have?” He said, crossing his arms.

“I could share a room with Pietra, and you can share with Lando…” she suggested, smiling up at her brother sweetly. “Please?”

Max sighed. “I don’t know about that, Y/N. Pietra and I have plans too, you know. Plans that include nightly activities. In bed,” He clarified.

Y/N pulled a face of disgust but offered her brother the same courteousness of ignoring the comment. “Are you serious, Max? You’re okay with me, your little baby sister, sharing a room – a bed, with Lando Norris? You know well enough that he’s always trying to get into my pants. This is your fault, you know. You told me you had taken care of everything.”

“I don’t like this as much as you do, but there’s not really another choice, is there?”

“Yes, there is. I told you, I can room with—”

“Y/N. Don’t be childish, you’ll be fine sharing a room for a few nights.”

“He’s going to try to take my innocence, Max. You can’t let that happen. You’re my big brother. You’re supposed to protect me, not throw me into the lion’s den.” Y/N tried, pulling out all the stops in the hope Max would change his mind. There was no other card she could play. She was tugging on his arm, practically begging him in the middle of the hotel lobby. If Lando and Pietra didn’t already know what was going on, they sure would know now.

Max rolled his eyes. “Your innocence has been gone for years, I’m sure,” Y/N gasped in offence, “It’s not going to work, make the best of it, yeah?” He concluded, patting her back before walking back to the group. 

She watched as her brother walked away, frustration clear on her face, but she joined him only a couple of seconds later; she needed to make the best of this, after all, and it was too late to go home now.

As her eyes met Lando’s, she could already feel a wave of irritation come over her. He was standing casually, the stupid sunglasses still perched on his nose, hands tucked in his pockets, and a smirk plastered on his face as if he knew exactly how her conversation had gone.

“You really don’t want to share a bed with me, do you?” He asked her as soon as she was near enough.

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What gave it away?”

“Could’ve been the part where you begged your brother not to throw you into the lion’s den,” Lando said, raising his eyebrows playfully. “Or maybe the part where you said I’m always trying to get into your pants.” He feigned hurt, putting a hand over his chest. “All those years of flirting down the drain…”

He chuckled softly at her angry expression, the sound infuriatingly smug. “Look, you’re making this into a bigger deal than it is. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropped as he leaned closer, “I’ll be the gentleman here. You can take the couch.”

Y/N blinked. “What?” She hissed.

“The couch, it’s all yours. I’ll suffer through the luxury of the bed.” He sighed dramatically before turning toward the elevator, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“See you upstairs, roommate,” he winked, stepping inside as the doors slid shut.

Her jaw was slack as she watched him disappear behind the sliding doors. She turned to Max angrily, “What the fuck is wrong with him? Did he fall on his head as a child or something?”

Pietra laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around Max’s waist. “He’s just teasing you, Y/N. It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go up.”

– – – – –

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Y/N said as soon as she entered the room.

“Oh, hello. Good to see you.” Lando smiled smugly from his position on the bed.

She glared at him – if looks could kill he’d be dead ten times over by now. “Get. Off. My. Bed.” She forced out through her gritted teeth.

Lando stretched out even further on the bed, hands behind his head. “Your bed? If I’m not mistaken, you were an afterthought to this vacation. This room was originally mine. You should be glad I’m kind enough to share it with you.”

Y/N stared at him. She wanted to rebuke him and tell him to stay on the couch, but he was right – although she’d never admit it to his face. He was doing her a favour by sharing his room, but he would never be chivalrous enough to sacrifice his bed. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, her voice cold and direct. “I guess we’ll share the bed.”

“Fine with me,” Lando said offhandedly as he messed with the remote control.

“Alright, then. I’ll go get ready for dinner.” 

The silence that settled over the room was awkward, at best. Y/N felt Lando’s eyes pricking in her back as she did her makeup, and the eye contact through the mirror didn’t make it any better.

“What?” She asked, hoping for some conversation to fill the quiet.

“Nothing,” Lando responded, averting his eyes and continuing to browse through the series and movies on the TV.

Y/N frowned at the response. She’ll have to raise a topic of conversation herself, then. “Why is it so cold in here?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Lando retorted.

“Do you think it’s cold or are you okay with the temperature?” She continued, but Lando merely shrugged in response.

Y/N sighed, setting down her brush and powder before getting up to look at the air-conditioning setting. In contrast to the rest of the room, it was an old-fashioned system with a disk with a pointer to set the temperature. She turned the disk, but the pointer didn’t move.

“Are you getting hotter?” She asked confused, not feeling a temperature difference in the air blowing out of the air conditioner. 

“Don’t even try,” she added quickly before Lando could respond, already seeing the smirk form on his face.

It quickly changed into an innocent smile, “What? I was just going to say I don’t feel a difference.”

“Mhm, sure. I think the air conditioner is broken. I turned the temperature up, but it’s not getting any warmer…”

Lando got up from the bed with a sigh and walked closer to look at the buttons himself. 

“You don’t have to get so close…” Y/N commented when she felt his breath hitting her neck.

“I’m trying to see what the buttons say, Y/N. I have to get close in order to do that.”

“You’re getting in my personal space.”

“Personal space? What’s that? I thought we were past the formalities.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. 

“I don’t know why it’s not working,” Lando continued, “It must be broken,” he concluded before walking back to the bed. 

“What? Can’t you fix it?”

Lando looked at Y/N incredulously, “How am I supposed to fix it?”

“I don’t know… Aren’t you good with technology and stuff?”

“That thing is ancient, Y/N.”

She huffed. She’d just have to deal, then. She quickly changed into one of her dresses and finished her hair.

“Aren’t you going to change?” She asked Lando, who was still lying on the bed in his plane clothes.

“Hm?”

“We’re leaving any minute now. It’d be nice if you changed into something decent for dinner. We’re not eating at some dive bar, you know.”

Lando rolled his eyes and sighed, “Don’t you ever get tired of yourself?”

“Excuse me?” she retorted, crossing her arms as she stared him down, about to scold him when there was a knock on the door.

“You’re lucky this time,” she added, before letting Max and Pietra in. 

She plastered a sweet smile on her face and complimented Pietra on her outfit.

“I can say the same about you,” Pietra responded kindly, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Y/N waved off her comment.

“Are you ready to leave?” Max cuts in.

“Yes, don’t know about Lando though. He wouldn’t change.”

“I’m ready,” he interjected. “I don’t need as much time as some people here,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Okay, let’s go.” Max pulled her out of the room before Y/N could respond, her mouth already open to rebut his rude comment.

“Did you hear that, Max? How on earth am I supposed to get through the night – let alone the entire vacation – when he talks to me like that? I swear, I’m going to strangle him in his sleep—” 

“Let’s not do that. You just need to adjust a little bit.”

“Did you hear what he said before? He asked me if I never get tired of myself. Do you know how insulting that is? He’s absolutely insufferable! His ego’s way too big, he could use someone to knock it down for him,” Y/N kept rambling as Max led her to the elevator, basically pushing her in before she quieted down.

Pietra and Lando joined them only a few seconds later, and the cocky grin on Lando’s face showed he knew exactly how much he had ticked her off, and the enjoyment he took from it. Y/N glared at him throughout the elevator ride. However, despite his earlier comments and the way he had annoyed her all day – if not all her life – she couldn’t deny he looked good. 

The white shirt he had changed into, with the top buttons open and the sleeves rolled up, accentuated his muscled arms, and allowed her to see the glimmer of the silver chain around his neck – she had to admit he was attractive. When Lando caught her looking she quickly averted her gaze, looking at her nails as she picked at them. But he had already noticed, his grin only becoming cockier. The confidence with which he carried himself, although extremely frustrating and unnecessary, had caught her eye along with all the other girls’, but it wasn’t enough to make up for his annoying behaviour.

– – – – –

The dinner was uncomfortable. 

Of course, Y/N and Lando had to be seated across from each other. And if the discussions earlier that day didn’t display their dislike for each other, the lack of conversation at the dinner table certainly did. They didn’t exchange a single word until Y/N snapped at him.

“Would you stop looking at me?” 

Her patience had worn thin after feeling his eyes on her every other second, but Lando merely smirked at the annoyance in her voice, “Where else am I supposed to look?” he asked innocently.

“I don’t know. Your food, maybe?” She shot back.

Lando raised his hands in surrender, before turning his attention to Max and Pietra, who were deep in conversation. Y/N tried to focus on their discussion, but the persistent feeling of Lando’s gaze on her was impossible to ignore. Every time their eyes met, his smirk only grew, making her jaw clench tighter.

When the meal came to an end, Y/N was more than ready to leave. She quickly collected her bag and jacket before joining Pietra on the walk back. With Lando far away from her, she could finally relax and talk comfortably, without being distracted by a pair of eyes burning holes in her face. The group quickly made their way back to the hotel, and after the elevator ride, Y/N and Lando were once again left alone.

“It’s cold in here,” she mumbled, switching the lights on as she entered the hotel room.

“You don’t say,” he responded sarcastically.

Y/N sighed, deciding to ignore the comment and rather focus on the problem at hand. “Okay, we should probably discuss how we’re going to do this…” Lando looked at her confusedly, so she continued, “As concluded earlier today, we’ll share the bed. I’ll take the left side if that’s okay?” 

Lando nodded, so she continued, “The bed is big, so if you dare cross over to my side, I’ll choke you in your sleep—” 

“Ooh, kinky,” he interjected, and Y/N flashed him a fake smile, “or I’ll tell Max, and he’ll handle it for me,” she finished.

Now, usually, Lando wouldn’t care much for her threats, but he knew Max was protective over his sister and from experience, Lando also knew that Max would indeed fuck him up if he crossed Y/N’s boundaries. He was actually surprised that Max was okay with him and Y/N sharing a room; he was usually up her ass whenever she so much as stood near a man. He didn’t know whether to be glad about it or not; did Max think Lando was like a brother to his sister, that nothing would ever happen between them, or did he trust him enough not to do anything without her permission? 

“Fine, fine. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he told her.

Y/N squinted her eyes at him. 

“I will,” he repeated. 

She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but the sincerity in his voice suited her a bit. She nodded and quickly changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom before slipping under the covers on the left side of the bed – as promised. She lay on her side, facing away from the right side where Lando would soon settle. She stayed as close to the edge as she could without falling off, so much so that Lando raised an eyebrow at her when he returned.

“You okay over there? Not lonely or cold or anything? I could warm you up if you like,” he suggested, the amusement evident in his tone.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. She wasn’t really, though. The room was freezing with the air conditioner still blasting cold air, and the thin comforter, which would normally be fine for the temperatures outside, wasn’t helping much.

She felt the bed move as Lando shifted, but she stayed silent, quietly staring out the window where she could just barely make out the street lanterns through the thin curtains. Although she pretended not to care (and would continue to do so), being this close to him made her uneasy – not because she didn’t trust him, although she wasn’t entirely convinced yet, but because of how aware she was of him. His presence, the warmth radiating from his body, and the faint scent of his cologne were all impossible to ignore in this proximity.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, but her mind refused to quiet. Despite everything, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he had actually been pretty decent at dinner –  apart from his frustrating staring habit – and how relaxed, confident, and hot he looked in that shirt… She hated how easily he affected her and how only he could wind her up without any effort at all.

– – – – –

Part 2

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[tinalbion]

'𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, afab!reader, mutant!reader, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, canon typical language, angst, feelings

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Logan are taken to another timeline that you could possibly help save, but your deep-rooted love for him is the only thing keeping you going anymore, but he doesn't seem to feel that way at all. Could you get Logan to see reason why you're here with him, or will it fall on deaf ears?

As everyone has been inspired by that dang Honda scene from Deadpool and Wolverine, I was as well, and listening to 'Lies' by Trifonic really helped fuel the backstory between Logan and reader here.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

____________________________________________

You weren’t sure how you ended up in a field, miles away from what you called your home, but the smell of smoke and fire woke you from your aching slumber. Whether it was the distant sounds of the fire crackling or the smell of it finally getting a rise out of you, you weren’t certain, but you wandered in a haze through the burnt grass fields. Your eyes were glued to the remnants of Xavier’s school for gifted people, your kind, mutants. The screams of sadness that wanted to come from deep within were stuck in your throat, your watery eyes stared at the scene as you looked around for any survivors, wondering if there were any. 

As much as it pained you considering how much blood you’ve already lost, you dug for hours and found things you wanted no part in finding, but there was that damn sliver of hope you clung to for whatever reason, and the one man you wished you could find wasn’t here… maybe he was safe. You wandered toward the front entrance of the mansion and fell to the ground, sobbing as you waited for anyone to help, or maybe you waited for a swift death to someone who would grant it to you. There was always the hatred for your kind, mutants, freaks, and there would always be that stupid luck someone would stumble upon you and put you out of your misery. 

But as luck would have it, a slightly buzzed Logan walked up to the entrance, seeing you on the ground sobbing, the flames behind you, and the destruction that lay behind you. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first, thinking that maybe the alcohol finally did hit him, especially since it took him ages to even get drunk in the first place. 

“Hey, that you…?” Logan asked gruffly as he stumbled toward you, seeing you coated in crimson.

You looked up, wide eyes filled with tears, and thinking you were seeing ghosts now. “L-Logan?” You asked, shaking. “Oh Gods, you’re alive?” You shot up to your feet and ran to him, stumbling into his broad chest as you sobbed heavily against him. 

He looked past you as one arm lazily wrapped around you, his eyes drinking in the reality he was seeing. “What the hell happened here…?” His voice was low, cracking, and he was unable to control his tone.

“Logan, the humans… they came and destroyed everyone… we thought we’d have it, but… I can’t find anyone alive. Logan… they’re all dead,” you said through sobs.

The world around him stopped and time was nothing to him anymore, the news of their deaths… all of them, it was impossible. There were so many mutant lives and so many powers that were practically unstoppable, and yet you stood here telling him no one survived, save for you. 

“How… how did you live?” He asked, his tone shifting from shocked to what you thought was defensive. 

Your eyes widened and began to shake as you thought he sounded… accusatory. “Logan, I didn’t do this-”

“I never said you did,” he replied quickly, trying to shut that thought down, but the damage was already starting.

“You pretty much did, but if you must know, my power… you know I can’t control it when I’m unconscious…” You said shamefully, rubbing your arm as you stepped back, but he pulled you toward him, his hand firm on your arm.

“Where were you?” You asked him, your eyes stared into his as he suddenly shifted, the entire mood was off, and he turned away from your gaze. “Logan, we called for you… what happened?”

“Don’t,” he said, more of a plead than a warning, “I ain’t accusing you of anything,” he assured you, but you were still so confused and scared, you weren’t sure what to make of everything just yet.

What would you think of him, what would you say when you found out he was too busy getting shitfaced at the bar, and not back at the mansion where he should have been? He seemed uneasy as his grip loosened from your arm, but he didn’t fully let go of you. You were the one part of this life, this world that wasn’t gone, and all he could do was stare at the flaming heap of rubble behind you.

Your relationship with Logan was one of complication, you knew that from the moment you two met, he was just a complicated man. One capable of loving too hard, hurting too strongly, and feeling rage more than anyone possibly could. But you loved him anyway, you just never managed to fully tell him that, even now you couldn’t find yourself muttering the words ‘I love you,’ and you figured you never would. He loved her, and only her. You would never compare in his eyes, and after a long time, you were content with that, because you would still be there for him despite the heartache you felt. 

You often felt the sharp sting of hurt, jealousy, and uselessness because all you could think was ‘I’m not her’, and it would quite possibly be your downfall. And you were still there for him, despite so many others telling you to give up. If you gave up, you’d be no better than those who’d given up on him in his past, and you could never bring yourself to do that. You were dedicated, if anything.

But here and now, as you sobbed against him as your blood slowly soaked back up into your body, gently healing your wounds, you could feel the sadness and the guilt that came with surviving. 

“I was…”

He didn’t have to say it, the smell of the booze on his breath finally hit you and you were disappointed in yourself for not realizing it sooner. You had tried to get him to stop, you really did, but the heartbreak was too much for him to handle, and it’s not like you could have stopped it anyway…

“No, I get it…” You sighed and looked back at the mansion as you pulled away from him, Logan felt the pain within the distance, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m gonna… go and see what I can find, I don’t know…” You wiped more tears from your eyes and sighed. 

Logan watched as you walked off, back into the flaming rubble, unable to speak his mind, unable to apologize. If he was there, maybe he could have stopped it all, everyone would still be alive, and you’d all be a little happier. That was a lie, he knew that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hope. 

That day was the first day it all went even further downhill. 

You remained with Logan, glued to his side even though he remained inside the bar more than any other place, yet you felt you should be there for him even though there was that voice in the back of your mind saying he wasn’t there for you. For them. But what kind of person would you be if you abandoned him? You’d be just like the rest, and you refused to be them, so as much as it pained you to see him drink his life away, you stood by his side. You helped him, and became his caretaker, which was pathetic of you in the first place, but you still loved him, even after all of that. What became of the X-Men, well, all the humans hated you both for it, reminding you each day how much you both fucked up. 

But the day a man walked through that door, a loud-mouthed fool with no signs of shutting the hell up, grabbed Logan from his seat and told him he needed him. You were sitting in the back of the bar, watching Logan as you always had, but you ran to the red-clad man once he held his gun to his head. Logan just smiled and laughed, hoping he’d do it as if it would have mattered.

Right in front of you, Logan begged for death, seeing no real reason to be alive anymore. To say your heart ached was an understatement. The man fell back and as Deadpool was about to reach for him, you kicked his arm away from him, causing the gun to slip right out of his grasp.

“Look here, Angel face, you get mixed up with this and I’ll have to hurt you, I don’t wanna do-”

You kicked him again, this time in the face to shut him up, and he stumbled back, looking surprised, even through the mask. “How dare you! I am trying to save my world and I need that shithead’s help! I don’t have time to fight you.”

“Well you’re taking the ONE person I give a damn about, so you’re gonna have to go through me.”

“Look, whatever little love thing- AHH WHAT THE SHIT?!”

“I said leave him alone,” you warned. 

Your power was coming forth as you held out both your hands, manipulating the iron in his bloodstream, slowly pulling it from his body through his skin. It hurt a LOT but it wouldn’t kill him if you didn’t yank it all out at once.

“Shit STOP it, okay?! Lemme explain!”

You lowered your hands and allowed his blood to remain in his body, he sighed and leaned back into the barstool. “Jesus fuck, woman, give a guy a chance to talk!”

“That’s all you been doing, asshole! Then tried to kidnap my… friend, and I’m not letting him go.”

Deadpool explained what was going on, introduced himself, and said why he needed your Logan from this world, so you took a step back and eyed him curiously. But as soon as this man now known as Deadpool lifted Logan up, your hand grabbed his wrist and you shot him a warning glance. 

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m going with, and that’s not a question.”

“Ooh, and who the hell do you think you are? Rip off Magneto?” He asked with more excitement and playfulness than you expected. 

“That doesn’t matter, but you’re taking my friend, and I’m not letting you leave without me if he’s going, too.”

The bartender glared at you and waved dismissively. “She’s just as pathetic as he is, too, so take her if you’re takin’ the other one,” he sneered. 

You glared back at him and fought the urge to hurt him, but you looked up at Deadpool and continued to hold onto his arm. “Please, I’m not leaving him, and if you need an extra hand, so be it.”

“Well, whatever you say, princess, but try not to get in the way of Peanut’s big moment here, okay? We got a world to save.”

“Sounds fine by me,” you replied, just wanting to be near Logan no matter the cost.

You arrived in another world, or as Wade called it, a timeline, with Logan, but then immediately zapped into a place called the Void, which was already enough of a mindfuck for you to want to be far away from as you could, but you ended up in a small diner as Logan searched for food. Deadpool sat back and ate whatever he could find as you all took a moment to recuperate. You sat away from them both, suited up with your old clothes from your time in the mansion, it felt odd to be wearing it again, but you felt like you had a purpose again, and it seemed that Logan was doing fairly well despite the circumstances.

“Ya know, in my world, you were… you were well-regarded,” Deadpool said, trying to break the silence as per usual, and to try and ease the well-known angry Wolverine. 

“Yeah, well, not in mine,” he said gruffly, taking a drink from the rubbing alcohol bottle in his hand. 

You grimaced at the sight but kept your mouth shut, you were normally quiet so you wouldn’t ruin the moment by talking.  

“Yeah, they don’t like me much,” Deadpool said with a more gentle tone.

“Ya don’t say.”

“I wanted to be something, ya know… Shit, I wanted to be an Avenger.”

“Fuck the Avengers.”

Wade laughed and sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t make the cut though. Same with the X-Men. My girlfriend left me-” 

“You had a girlfriend?” Logan asked, shocked by this revelation.

Deadpool laughed. “Ooh yeah, Vanessa. Had a whole life planned. And I uh, well, I fucked that right up. But YOU, you were an X-Man, THE X-Man. The Wolverine. He’s a hero in my world…” Deadpool looked over at Logan, who sat away from the both of you and angrily stared off into the diner, trying not to listen, but Wade never would shut the hell up. 

“Yeah well, he ain’t shit in mine.” Logan stood up, whipped the can of alcohol into the kitchen area of the diner, then walked outside. 

Deadpool remained seated and looked over at you. “So what’s Wolvie’s problem, anyway?” 

“That’s a long story, Wade, I don’t think I can tell it…” You said softly, looking away from his gaze as you watched Logan from the window.

“You love him or somethin’?” He asked, his voice soft, showing a small moment of vulnerability. “That why you came to babysit pissed off Honey Badger?” 

This made your head turn to him and you looked almost perplexed, how had he known? Was it so obvious, written all over your face? Your cheeks felt warmer as you looked back through the window. “Doesn’t matter, not like he’d love me back. Just here to make sure he doesn’t die. And it’s not like I have shit to go back to, either.”

Wade regarded your answer and figured there wasn’t much to talk about after that, but he stood up and walked toward you, patted your shoulder, and ruffled your hair. “You’re too good for that guy, mutie, wait uh, what is your name?”

“Just call me Failure, everyone else does.”

Deadpool scoffed and shook his head. “Nahhh, you don’t look like one of those. Oh! What abouttttt Jamie Lee, suits you bein’ a babysitter and all-”

This made you scoff and you couldn’t help but shake your head. “Man, Logan is right, you never shut up, do you?” It was said more playfully, but you looked back at Logan, whose back was to you both. 

“Not one god damned bit, now anyway Baby Lee, let’s go and get that grumpy little man for you-”

You groaned and stood up to shove Deadpool out of the way, then walked off to get to him before Wade did, but he was fast. 

“Girlfriend material, comin’ through!” Wade called in a sing-song voice as you stomped toward Logan, who didn’t even turn to greet either of you. The merc walked up beside Logan and leaned on him playfully as you stood a few feet away to give him space. “Your girlfriend is worried about you, Peanut,” he hummed. “And not gonna lie, she puts up a hell of a fight, almost stopped me from yankin’ ya right into my little world-saving problem,” he said teasingly.

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” he grumbled and sulked off. Deadpool bound after him and you followed behind hesitantly. 

“Oh I know, she told me as much, but I dunno Wolvie, the way she almost pulled my blood from my body to save your ass means there’s something there, trust me. Nothing hotter than a dedicated woman who would pull my blood out to save your sorry drunk ass, and if you don’t want her, hell, I hope you consider sharing~”

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan stalked off ahead of you and you both followed after. 

The three of you somehow ended up finding a Deadpool variant, which ended up lending you his Honda Odessy, with which your Deadpool had an issue, but it ended up working out in the end as he trotted off, getting himself lost with yet another Deadpool variant: Dogpool. Logan had no intention of sticking around, so you followed obediently like you always did and figured you’d get to the borderlands and wait for Wade if need be.

The drive in the beginning was quiet and awkward as Logan drove, leaving you to stare out of the window in silence, wondering if you should have said anything to him. It occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten a moment alone with him since being whisked away here, and now that you’d been thinking about it, it was terrifying. 

Logan had been looking over at you every so often as you stared out the window, your eyes seeing the same scenery as you leaned your head against the window. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped several times, and you could feel that he was trying to get your attention. You turned toward him and looked into his eyes, catching his stare, but he pulled away and looked back in the direction he drove in. 

“What is it, Logan?” You asked him softly.

He cleared his throat and sighed. “I just wanna know why you’re here.”

This stung a little, thinking that he’d be better off without you, maybe? You huffed and didn’t meet his gaze. “I came because I felt I had to,” you replied shortly.

“That you had to?” He wanted you to clarify, of course, he did. 

“Yeah, I had to, because I didn’t wanna lose the only person I had left, okay?” You said with a bite to your words. “I didn’t want to hurt more than I already do. And despite you not being able to see it or maybe not caring, you’re all I have left, Logan.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he listened to you, knowing you were right, you were both hurting and he had shoved your feelings aside to wallow in his own self-pity. He turned back toward the road, his hands gripping the wheel tight as he thought about it, about how you had been there for him all this time, despite the hurt and anger he felt and pushed onto you, there you were, never letting him down when he needed you. Even when he didn’t ask you for a single thing, you were always there, and looking back on it now, it fucking hurt. 

Someone so selfless like you… stuck with someone like him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself. 

“You’re not,” you responded back immediately, always there to combat his self-depreciation. You really were an angel. 

“I am, wanna know why? Because I’m too fucking stupid to see that since day one, you were there, through all of it, through all my bullshit that I put you through… Even before that day…you were there Wade said something at that diner about you almost killing him just because he threatened to take me, and you insisted on going with me despite not knowing what the fuck we were getting ourselves into.”

You shifted in your seat uneasily, wondering what point he was trying to make. “It was nothing-”

“Don’t say that, you can’t just say that after everything you’ve done for me? Why, Star?” 

Star, the nickname he’d given you on your first day in the mansion, knowing very well how to tug at your heartstrings. You sighed as you turned toward him, wondering if now was the time, and there would never be a good time, you figured. “Logan, I don’t-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he warned with that look, the look you knew too well when he was trying to be intimidating. “I wanna hear it, why are you here?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay?! Despite you loving Jean, loving a woman who didn’t love you back, loving someone so deeply, and having to take her away from you, from your friend Scott. It hurt you so much and you would have never looked at me twice anyway. But I stuck around because you were hurting and I cared, you were so kind to me and helped me even though I know you didn’t want to. You did it anyway. And I grew to love you. 

Then Jean was gone, and maybe I had a shot, but even then I was scared. Then the mansion… everyone died… and you fell further into yourself, Logan. You were so deep into your hurt that I was afraid you’d never come back. And yet, I stayed, what else would I do? Abandon you? Never, I’d hate myself for it. I tortured myself for years for you and I don’t even know why!”

The silence in the Honda only grew beside the gentle sounds of your sniffles, and you tried your best to cover those sounds as well as you stared out the window, wishing he'd just drive as fast as he could so you'd reach your destination and not have to continue this conversation. But to your dismay, the car skidded to a halt, and you both almost flew forward. You spun to look at him, to scold him for driving so carelessly, but the face he gave you was too heartbreaking.  

You hadn’t realized the loud tone in which you spoke, the tears that spilled down your face, or the way Logan was looking at you as if he could have walked off a cliff and would have been better for it.

Logan sighed and shook his head, trying to find the words, only to stumble over them and remain awkwardly silent.  His mouth opened to speak only to close, he was getting nowhere. “Why?” He finally asked. 

“Why what?” you asked with a sigh.

“You just couldn’t love someone who wasn’t a total fuck up, could you? Couldn’t have chosen better for yourself,” he grumbled as he leaned back in the seat, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. 

He looked away and swallowed hard. “Why me?” He asked. “There ain’t shit to love about me, kid, never was.”

“Yet you loved Jean, your love was unwavering despite her loving Scott,” you pointed out. “What does it matter why or who? My heart was yours and that’s that, Logan.”

“I wish I knew why I’d chosen you, but I couldn’t stop it, I tried. So many people saw it, you know, the way I looked at you. They all warned me, they told me not to even think about it. And stupid me, I waited for you! I was stupid enough to think you would realize that she wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and maybe, just maybe… I could.”

He sighed again, not daring to look at you right now so he could think, and the pain within him was welling up faster than ever. He ached for you, for the chances you could’ve had in life, but instead you chose him, the fucking Wolverine. He sat in complete silence, leaving you to sit there, lost in your own thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, forget I said any of this, Logan, I shouldn’t have come here… I’m.. Forget it.” You unclicked your seatbelt and slid from it, then opened the door, which made Logan being to panic. 

He’d sit idly by for too long, this complicated thing you had for him, the complicated mess he shared with Jean… But she wasn’t here anymore, you were, and you always had been. That meant something to him despite him not wanting to admit that. “Star, wait,” he said as he followed you from the car, whipping around to the other side to grab your arm.

You spun to look at him, your eyes red and bloodshot from the crying, and it had been ages since he truly looked at you. He grumbled at the sight of you, how truly tired you looked, and having to see how you looked at him stung. You still had that admiration, very little of it now, but it was there, along with exhaustion and hopelessness. You were a bundle of emotions and he felt it was all his fault. 

“Shit, I… I wish it wasn’t me you cared about, Star, you didn’t deserve any of this shit.”

“And neither did you, Logan,” you replied softly, staring at him with such vulnerability, giving him a soft smile. Your voice was so laced with pain that it almost made the man flinch. 

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he growled in annoyance.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Wonder where I get that from,” I said with a small hint of playfulness. It was a vicious cycle of loving him, hating him, forgiving him. You knew it was wrong and toxic, but you never thought twice about it. 

“I can guess,” he mumbled with a sliver of that old sarcastic Logan shining through. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through, even the shit I didn’t know about,” he said, which was amazing to hear an apology come from him. “You love a broken old man who couldn’t even be there for his people, his friends, and you’re still here, you’re either just as stupid as I am or…”

“Or hopelessly in love with you,” you said softly, staring at him with tears threatening to fall again. 

Logan clenched his jaw, the gruff badass mask he wore slipping from him, revealing a hint of the same vulnerability you showed him. “You really think I deserve that after all that’s happened? How I dragged you down with me because of my fuck up? I’m not a good man.”

“I don’t care what you think you deserve, you do deserve happiness. Maybe if I wasn’t such a scared child all those years ago, you would have realized it sooner and none of this would have happened,” you explained. “You’ve been through shit not many would live through, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you deserve to have someone love you without repercussions, without worry.”

Logan couldn’t help but flinch at your impassioned words, the sincerity and conviction in your voice was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to argue, to protest, but there was a small part of him that knew you were right; that he had been through hell and back, and just maybe he did deserve something better than he thought.

Everyone saw him as an animal, the Wolverine, and he made sure to keep that reputation so no one could ever hurt him. But hurting you wasn’t what he wanted. You were here saying all of this to him, but no matter what happened, there would always be that little voice playing in the back of his mind telling him that someone like him could never have that life or that love.

You finally stepped toward him, ignoring the screaming in your mind as you pushed past that hesitancy, staring into his eyes as he continued to wear that scowl. But the closer you got, the more his features softened. “What you’ve been through Logan, it doesn’t define you, but what you’ve been through has driven you to become the man you are. We all have to live with mistakes we’ve made, and I’m tired of running from the good things, aren’t you?”

He looked down at you and clenched his jaw, staring into your eyes as he searched for anything to say to push you away, to show you he wasn’t deserving of this, but he fell short and remained silent. 

Your hand reached out and didn’t hesitate this time as you placed it on his arm, leaning closer toward him as you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach, but you hadn’t expected Logan to greet you halfway. The fear in his eyes spoke volumes but so did his actions, and you couldn’t help but smile as your lips finally met.

The dreams you had of this day were nothing in comparison to the real dead, feeling his facial hair tickle your skin as you pulled him flush against you, your arms wrapped around his neck while your desperation and passion burst through. It started out gentle and sweet, but it grew hungrier while his large arms finally wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him effortlessly. When he pulled away, panting and breathless, you could see the inner turmoil he struggled with, but you’d be there to ground him. His eyes are hooded and glazed over with desire, and fear, but he can’t help but grin at the sight of you smiling up at him.

“You sure you ain’t makin’ a mistake?” He asked.

You just scoffed and pushed him against the car, surprising him with the amount of force you used. “I’ve thought of nothing but you for so long, Logan, I think we’re beyond making mistakes,” you explained as you pulled him back into a kiss. He was like putty in your hands the more you touched him through the outfit, always thinking he looked damn good in yellow and blue. 

Logan couldn’t hide the growing want he felt as he could feel your hands slowly feeling everywhere, but he needed to hold back or else he wasn’t sure what would happen. “You’re drivin’ me to a point I might lose control,” he pointed out, his breath becoming heavier with each finger you skated across his arms. 

“As if I don’t know the consequences,” you laughed and reached up to grab the collar of his suit, pulling him down further against your lips. “But you are wearing a bit too much right now for my taste, Logan,” you whispered, your nose gently touching his.

He was about to question you as to why you were wanting to do this now, but what kind of asshole would he be to push you away again, especially now that you both had this time to yourselves. Instead of pushing this away, he pushed you away from him and threw the back door to the Honda open, ushering you to remove your suit. Without question, you did as he asked and began to strip, watching the way he looked at you as you did so, but you made sure not to take up too much time. If you all made it out of here alive, maybe you could both take things slow for another round…

“Damn,” Logan breathed as he stared at you while you threw your suit off into the front seat, but you were greeted with Logan’s body pushing against yours as you lay pinned beneath him, halfway hanging out of the car. He saw the underwear you had on and his claws immediately came out with a sharp whoosh, but you placed your hand on his arm and shook your head.

“I need to wear these until we get the hell out of here. When we get back, you can shred all the ones I have,” you promised with a grin, and his claws immediately retracted. 

“Good point, but I’ll hold you to that promise,” he warned as his large hands slid up and cupped your breasts through your bra, his grip rough and possessive as he left your body on fire wherever he touched. 

Your heart was pounding as you finally had what you’d always dreamed of, and the sounds that spilled from your lips were melodious to the mutant, he wanted to hear you get louder, so he made sure to work through his unease and make sure you were crying out his name for all to hear in the Void. You bucked your hips upward as his fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, yanking them down without a second thought, and you released a strangled cry once his knuckle gently slid against your clit. You bit your lip, wanting to withhold anything, for now, not wanting Logan to know just how easy it would be to get you to crumble. Any touch he’d graced you with almost made your body tense, feeling lost in anything he’d give you. Even if he were to allow his hands to roam your body without fucking you, you’d probably come just like that. 

Logan picked up on this, smelling your arousal as you lay beneath him, his grip tightening on your hips as he stared at your face, already blissed out and wanton with need. “Fuck, you’re killin’ me, here,” he growled as he lowered his mouth to your belly, kissing it to try and curb the absolute feral need that bubbled within him. The simplest kiss and you moaned out his name, your hips bucking involuntarily at his touch. “Yeah, that’s it, fuckin’ say my name,” he commanded as he shifted above you, feeling his length pushing uncomfortably against his suit. “Fuck.”

He stepped back from you, releasing your body as you groaned from the lack of his touch, but your head snapped up to watch as he began to remove his suit this time. Carefully each piece came off, still wanting to keep the reminder of who he was before everything nice and neat, piling them into the front seat with yours. Logan fished himself from his underwear, revealing what you always thought would be impressive to be much more than that. His head dripped with pre-come as he stepped closer, and all you wanted was for him to be buried inside of you. 

You lick your lips as your mouth waters for him, but now isn’t the time to explore, you need him inside of you before anything else. “Logan, please,” you begged.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His voice was low, husky, dripping with animalistic lust. “You need to use your words.”

You made a face up at him, knowing he was enjoying teasing you like this, now knowing the hold he had on you as you stared up at him. “Logan, c’mon, I need you,” you whined. “Need to feel you so badly…” You pawed at his arms as he crawled on top of you, his snarky grin never once leaving his face. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered low, and it left you in a puddle after hearing that. He smelled the strong scent of desire on you, it was impossible not to, so to get you prepped, he slid two large fingers inside of you, spreading your slick against your folds as you bucked your hips again, wanting more. With each pump of his fingers, your muscles tensed, your walls clenched with need around them as his pace was unwavering to get you ready to take him. 

You couldn’t control the shake that spread in your limbs or the desire that laced the sound of your moans, but you knew that you didn’t want to release yourself on his fingers, as pleasurable as it sounded. You pulled away from his mouth, leaning your forehead on his as you tried to speak. “Logan, please,” you begged again, knowing he was working you up. “I need you inside of me.”

This made a large smirk grow across his face as he slid his fingers out of you, watching as your body twitched from the loss, and he slid those soaked fingers into his mouth. Seeing him cleaning the coat of slick with his tongue was more erotic than you could have imagined, knowing all of the dirty thoughts you had about Logan over the time you’d known and wanted him could never live up to the real thing. His hands ran up your legs, skating across your calves as he yanked your body toward him with a swift pull, his eyes taking in the sight of your body beneath his, smiling when he saw your inner thighs completely dripping with need as his nostrils flared. 

“I’m gonna enjoy this…” he mumbled.

“Not as much as I will,” you said seriously, no playfulness in your tone, but a solid truth. 

Your legs spread for him without question as his hands assisted you, palms on your knees as he spread you far so he could slot himself between you, pushing his throbbing cock against your folds, smiling wide as you gasped and pushed yourself into him, allowing him to coat himself with your need. You no longer had to pretend your fingers were his, spreading you open as he was about to do, the real thing right above you as he guided himself inside. Logan didn’t give you a chance to adjust and instead, he sinks himself deep into your cunt with a hard thrust, knowing he’d get those pretty sounds out of you.

He was right. You cried out his name as your hands grabbed at his arms, trying to cling to something to keep you grounded. “Holy shit,” you said through gritted teeth, already shaking from the sheer force. 

The pace he was was hard and steady, not going too quick to make sure you both got what you wanted from this as his force rocked the car back and forth. Your cries and moans only fed his ego, wanting to give you exactly what you’d been dreaming of, although he figured getting fucked in the back of a car wasn’t exactly your first choice, he wouldn’t deny that it was the best time they’d get in case something did go wrong. One hand was beside your head, holding himself up while the other was gripping hard at the front seat, his fingers digging into the material as he was relentlessly pounding into you.

Your head rolls to the side, wanting to press your lips anywhere against his skin as you kiss his arm over and over, clinging to him while his entire body feels as if it surrounded you. You felt safe in this moment while he split you open, the sting of him stretching you for the first time while the coiling pleasure built within your stomach so quickly. You didn’t notice the shiver your kisses sent up Logan’s spine, but he made sure you knew how you were affecting him.

“You’re so damn tight,” he praised, lowering his mouth to yours for a sloppy, hungry kiss. 

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and teased him, wrapped your legs around him tighter as you arched your back, your body pressing flush against his as you moaned against his lips. The head of his cock is pushing so deep inside of you, bruising that soft spot to oblivion as your head falls back from the kiss, trying to use your words to the best of your abilities.

“Logan, I-I’m gonna come,” you whined as you tried your best to hold onto him, your mind going blank as you could only focus on the building pleasure and the tight wound feeling you felt in your belly. 

“Come then, sweetheart,” he instructed as he pressed his chest against yours, allowing his body to feel closer to you while he leaned his head against your shoulder, taking in your scent. “Need you to show me what I’ve been missin’ out on,” he said with a smirk. 

Your lips peppered his shoulder with kisses as he still mercilessly pounded into you, but the sudden feeling of your teeth sinking into his skin caused the man to let out an feral growl beside your ear as his pace was frantic and unrelenting. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you bit down hard as your cunt clenched around his pulsing cock, pulling him as deep as he could manage while you milked him as you came. 

Logan let out another growl, his breath heavy as he mumbled a string of curses beside your ear while his claws sprang out at the same time he’d come inside of you, piercing the back and the front seat of the Honda, one set incredibly close to your head, but you didn’t flinch whatsoever. You were so wrapped up in this, in him, and your high that he allowed you to ride that nothing else in the world mattered. He retracted his claws again as he sat back, kneeling on one leg as the other hung out of the car, and all he could do was stare down at you, his eyes raking over your figure as your chest rose and sank heavily, the little bruising he left across your skin. He matched the smile that you wore, and he almost felt slightly timid under the gaze you shot him, one so filled with adoration and love, feelings he didn’t deserve from someone like you.

He reluctantly pulled from you, getting one more sweet sound from your lips as he stuffed himself back into his underwear, then sat in the backseat and pulled your legs onto his lap. “I hope that was worth the wait,” he mumbled softly as he gently placed his hand on your thigh, feeling the pads of his fingertips glide against the softness.

“Even better, you’ve exceeded expectations,” you said softly followed by a small laugh, your arm placed over your head as you looked up at him. “I hope this means you’ll consider my offer from earlier, you know, when we get back.”

He let out a low sigh and stared at you, trying to read your expression. “You still think this ain’t a mistake?” He asked you, his voice low and deep with a hint of hope. He was afraid to push this any further in case you came to your senses and wanted something better for yourself.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you pushed yourself up, smiling wide at the man who had your heart for years, your palm resting gently against his cheek. “I meant every word I said today, Logan, and if you still need convincing, I’ll remind you every damn day that I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” You pushed yourself up, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck, showing him that hint of softness that he deeply craved. 

He sighed as he slipped an arm around you, holding your naked form against him as he relaxed beneath your touch. “Then I guess I have a lot of time to make up for,” he said with a smirk.

You nodded and shot him a similar smile. “Guess you do.”

“Let me start right now,” he purred against your hair, taking in your scent as he pushed you back against the seat, hovering his body above yours. “I’m not wantin’ to stop just yet.”   

[xan-izme]

Dubble Life 12 (ATSV x Reader x Batfam)

A/n: Just a chapter full of fluff for now(Or is it 🤡)

Part 11, Part 13

You stared at the therapist with a blank expression. Irritation was clear in your eyes. Your defining silence and small glare did not affect the therapist.

"I was told by your father, that this isn't your first session with a therapist." The therapist, Mrs. Dean spoke with a firm yet soft tone. She very beautiful. Maybe in her early to mid 30's. Her hair up in a neat bun, but some curls managed to poke out in a graceful way.

". . . yeah." You gave a short response.

"Well, you already know the drill. So, I'll dive right in. You originally lived in New York. How are you adjusting to Gotham." Mrs. Dean crossed one leg over the other while waiting for your response.

"It's okay." Your eyes seemed to be more interested in looking around the office.

Mrs. Dean nods and intertwined her fingers while letting her hands lay on her lap. "And school? I've heard your practically a genius."

"I guess." You spot a hand drawn picture on Mrs. Deans desk along with a little teddy bear. There was a small corner that looked like it was for kids. It had dolls. Other types of toys. A small table for kids.

Mrs. Dean noticed you looking at her little kid corner. "I work with a lot of kids that your age and younger. It helps the younger kids feel more comfortable."

You nod and let out a small thoughtful hum and focused your eyes back on Mrs. Dean.

Mrs. Dean gives you a small smile. "Back to you."

Bruce had put you into therapy. Which you were not happy about of course. You didn't need therapy. It made you feel weak, and it's not like you can tell your therapist everything. Most of your trauma was due to your life as Spiderwoman.

You got back from your session. Walking into the manor your hit with the smell of fresh baked sweets. You get curious and walked into the kitchen where you see Alfred baking and Damian doing his homework on the counter.

"Hmm. Smells good." You spoke as you walked into the kitchen.

"Sister!" Damian spoke up. His tone with slight excitement. You walked over and ruffled Damians head. "Hey cupcake." You mumbled with a small soft smile. Damian turned his head up to you as you wrapped your arm around the youngers shoulder.

"Ah, Ms. Y/n. How was your therapy session?" Alfred spoke as he pulled out the first batch of cookies from the oven.

"Oh, it was great. Had a wonderful time." Your tone was clear with sarcasm.

"Seriously?" Damian piped up, seemingly not taking your sarcasm into note. You chuckled as you smiled down at Damian. "Your funny cupcake." You ruffled his head once more and smuggled him with a hug and kisses.

"Ugh- stop!" Damian struggled to push you away. You were surprisingly strong. (He wasn't actually even trying)

Alfred watched the sweet scene in front of him with s fond smile upon his face.

Jason walked in. Looking like he just woke up with messy hair while wearing boxers.

"Where's my kisses?" Jason spoke up while staring at you and Damian. You and Damian frown at the sight of Jason.

"I can punch you." You gave the older man a "sweet" smile as you held Damian close to you.

Jason flipped you off while Alfred had his backed turned. Which you and Damian returned by flipping him off together.

You and Damian were watching a drama show while eating popcorn. It was fairly silent. Damian had his head on your shoulder while you had your head on his.

". . .Sister." Damian spoke up in a quite tone while you two kept your eyes on the tv. You let out a small hum of acknowledgement.

"Do you hate it here?"

Damians question made you pause. You lean your head away from his to look at him. Your brows furrowed. "Why would you think that cupcake?''

Damian stared up at you, his expression a little sad but mainly conflicted. Wondering if he should tell you what was on his mind. Worried if he does say what was on his mind, whatever you respond with might confirm with what he asked. "Well. . . I overheard the argument you and father had."

You let out a sigh while turning your head away, clenching your jaw. "Right. That."

Damian frowns and held his head down. You turn your head back to stare down at Damian with small frown. ". . . Hey. Look at me."

Damian slowly looks up at you. Expecting some sort of deep frown or a sad look on your face. But he's greeted with your usual soft smile.

"What I said to Bruce was. . . wrong. I didn't mean it. But most importantly. I don't want you thinking I hate being here. I got you here with me, what's to hate?" You pinched his nose and hugged him. Damian hugs back while letting out a small sigh of relief.

While hugging Damian, you glanced down and see a bruise underneath back of his shirt. You frown and lean away from the hug to tug on the shirt and get a better look at the bruise.

"What is this?" Your tone turned protective. Damian was quick to pull away.

"Nothing! . . . I bumped into a bookshelf pretty hard in the library yesterday."

"Oh. . . Okay." You still had a small doubtful look on your face. A still a little worried.

A week goes by and your back in Ms. Deans office.

"So, do you have any friends?" Mrs. Deans asked with a small smile.

You were seated across from Mrs. Dean. "Yeah."

Mrs. Dean nods. "You don't talk much about them."

"They don't live here in Gotham. But we keep in contact." You were referring to your friends in the Society. It was a lie about keeping in contact part. Of course, you knew you were the problem for that.

"I see. Have you tried to make friends here in Gotham? In school or outside of school?"

You shook your head with a small bitter smile. "A lot of people already know I'm Bruce's daughter. Hard to make friends who, actually want to be friends. You know?"

Mrs. Dean nods in understanding before asking another question. "I'm sure there are a lot of pros to being Bruce Wayne's daughter."

You let out a chuckle. "Yeah. I got a little brother. A dad. Money. I was broke as hell."

Mrs. Dean chuckled at the last part.

"Anything I want I could ask for. I can get it. . . But sometimes I want go to the past."

Mrs. Dean's brow raised at your words. "Now why is that."

You paused for a moment. You had a faraway look on your face as you spoke. "Everything before. . ." You sighed as your mind wondered back to her.

"Never mind." You mumbled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Mrs. Dean seems to already know what you were about to say. But she doesn't press you about it. Not yet at least.

"You mentioned your brother?" Mrs. Dean thankfully changed the subject. She watches your uneasy expression turn into a fond smile. "Damian. Yeah. He's a tough one. He acts so tough and mature, but in truth he's just a little baby. We weren't close at first. . . he actually hated me."

You chuckled to yourself as you thought back to your first encounter with Damian.

"What changed?" Mrs. Dean tilted her head.

You seem to think deeply about her question. ". . . I guess I kind of saw myself in him."

Mrs. Dean became more interested by your words.

"I used to do that too when I was younger. I acted like an adult. Thought if I did that people on the streets would take me more seriously. No one would mess with me if I acted tough." You had that faraway look on your face again. Thinking back to the past.

"I never really got to act like a kid. Felt like that was the only way to be taken seriously by others. To be trusted to do things on your own. I saw that In Damian. But that's not how a kid should act or worry about." You held your head high and gave Mrs. Dean a confident look.

"I don't want him to worry about stuff a 12 your old shouldn't even worry about. I know I probably can't give him what he already has. But I got my love. And that should be enough. . . right?"

Mrs. Dean smiled. "Yes. I'm sure your love is enough."

"Ugh, why the hell is this level so hard." You grumbled as you set down the controller. Getting frustrated over a game and a certain level you couldn't pass.

Tim chucked as he watched you stress over it. Jason right behind him reading a book. "How long have you been stuck on this level?"

"A week." You mumbled as you turn to look at Tim. Catching Jason make an amused face at your frustration.

"Shut up Jason." You glared at the older.

"Wha- I didn't even say anything!" Jason looked offended.

"Your stupid face did." You huffed in annoyance. Tim laughed and hopped over the couch and sat next to you. "Can I help?"

Your eyes lit up with hope. "Oh my gosh really?" Tim gave you a smile and nods. "Yes! please help."

Since Tim already played this game and finished it. He showed you multiple ways to beat this level. You had fun with Tim. You and Jason would argue here and there. But overall, it was fun.

As it got dark. Tim and Jason suddenly got an Alert on their phones. "Sorry Y/n. Me and Jason have to go. But I'll play with you next week."

You were a little sad. And confused at the sudden rush, but you understood. "Oh, okay. Bye."

Jason ruffled your head as he followed behind Tim. "Hey!"

Jason quickly ran out the room as you threw a pillow towards him.

"Do you ever feel left out?" Mrs. Dean asked as she watched you play with a small ball you picked out from the kids corner.

"Left out? No not really." You tossed the ball up in the air and caught it.

"How about I sum out the question. Do you feel left out in your family? With the Waynes I mean."

You hum as you thought about it. "Sometimes, I guess. Everyone treats me good. But I kind of feel like, an outsider sometimes."

"Do you think it's because of the way you were raised that you assume that. Suddenly living one life then now to this." Mrs. Dean watched as you let her words sink in.

"Yeah. I guess so. They knew each other longer and stuff. So that's probably why I feel that way. . . but. It kind of feels like something more."

Mrs. Dean's Brow raised "Why do you think that?"

You shrugged as you fumbled with the small ball in your hands. "It's like they all have this, thing. Like a bond with each other that I probably won't understand. . ." You seemed to think about it before shrugging "Maybe because they are all guys? I heard fathers have deeper connections with their sons."

Mrs. Dean hums and leans back into her chair. "Well, that can be some cases. Do you think Mr. Wayne doesn't pay much attention to you than your brothers?"

You shook your head. "No, he gives me attention. He's. . . a good man. He wouldn't neglect any of his kids. He's also a busy guy. So, if he's not around much I don't hold it against him."

Mrs. Dean nods. "You seem to be a very open-minded person."

It was late in the night when you had awoken from a nightmare. You tried to go back to sleep. But your mind betrayed you. Keeping you up and refusing you sleep for what felt like hours.

So, you wondered downstairs. In hopes of getting something that could make you fall asleep. You slowly enter the kitchen that was engulfed in darkness. Before you could reach for the light switch. The light was turned on by another.

"Ms. Y/n."

It was Alfred.

"Hey Alfred. Sorry I just came for something to drink." You mumbled as you approached the fridge.

"A nightmare?" Alfreds question caused you to pause. "How did you-"

"I know the look of a child who has come out from a bad dream Ms. Y/n." Alfred shooed you to sit at the counter as he made you a warm drink.

You just sat in silence as Alfred spoke.

"Do you usually get nightmares?" Alfred still has his back turned to you as he made your drink. ". . . Sometimes. Nothing too bad. Just need to lay off the horror films I guess." You let out a small chuckle.

"I see. Your father had a lot of nightmares as well when he was around master Dameon's age." Alfred slides the cup to you. You take the warm cup into your cold hands. The warmth sending a sort of satiation through you.

"Bruce?" You took a sip from the warm drink as you eyed the Butler. Alfred nods as he turns to clean up. "Especially after Master Bruce's parents passed."

Your expression dropped slightly. Both parents at such a young age.

"Must have been hard." You mumbled as you thought to yourself.

Alfred glanced to your slight glum expression.

"Yes. Same for Master Dick, and Master Tim. Along with Master Jason. All boys lost their parents at young ages. Master Damians mother left him with Bruce after the death of his grandfather. It took him awhile to move on after that."

You stayed silent as Alfred spoke.

". . . Why are you telling me this." You were lean back against your chair as you stared up at Alfred with slight confusion.

Alfred turned back around and handed you a treat.

"Everyone here has lost someone. Your brothers and Master Bruce will understand your pain. You don't need to hide it."

And with that the butler walked off back to where he had come from. Leaving you to let his words sink in.

"You have trust issues."

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle at Mrs. Dean's words. "Whoa, I just got here. And I'm very trusting. I'm here talking to you. I tell you my feelings and thoughts."

"Yes. But you don't tell me the full truth. Which I don't expect you to. But having trust issues doesn't mean you don't trust someone when it comes to talking about your feelings and thoughts. Trusting someone with yourself is different with trusting yourself with another. You, Y/n don't trust yourself."

"What are you going on about." You lean back into the chair as you gave Mrs. Dean a look of confusion.

"You don't trust that you would do the right thing. You don't trust yourself when it comes to situations that involve you being needed. You make yourself look bad, but not too bad to the point where others don't trust you." Mrs. Dean flips a page from her clip bored.

"You always talked about others in a good honest light. I ask a question about you, and you would either answer in short answers or divert the conversation about another."

"Come on now. It's not like that." You chuckled a little with a lazy smile. Mrs. Dean narrows at how nonchalant you're acting. You're acting. You're a good actor. And she sees it.

And you know she knows.

You are acting smug about it. But why. Why are you playing around like this-

Mrs. Dean catches you glancing to the teddy bear on her desk with a knowing look.

You smirked as you see realization creep upon Mrs. Dean.

There was a nanny-cam in that toy bear. You spotted it on day one. Yet you didn't say anything. You spoke about your thoughts and feelings to her. Most of it was true as well. You were yourself in the sessions you had with her.

You did all that while knowing of the nanny-cam.

"How did you. . ." Mrs. Dean spoke in a low tone. Almost like a whisper as she stared at you with wide eyes.

You simply smiled. "Like you said. I'm practically a genius."

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[sommerbueckers]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝

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✰ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐𝐤

✰ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭...𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

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EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY HOW it was supposed to be. All the guests had arrived on time and were clad in an array of pastel colors, the menu had been carefully crafted to cater to everyone's dietary restrictions, and the weather was forecasted to be warm and sunny throughout the entirety of the day. You should've been ecstatic, and yet you could hardly breathe.

You sat hunched over in a chair, a worn bucket positioned in front of you in case you needed to vomit. Tears welled in your eyes, on the verge of spilling down your cheeks and ruining your meticulously applied makeup. The prospect of falling ill just moments before walking down the aisle was a dreadful scenario, yet you couldn't compose yourself. You clutched your hand to your chest, your face contorting in a painful grimace.

"I can't do this..." you mumbled, more so to yourself than to the other women in the room, your bridesmaids, "I can't do it."

Your best friend, and maid of honor, had been at your side since the moment you started feeling sick. Her hand hadn't left your back, soothingly rubbing up and down as she barked orders at everyone. It was always like her to take charge and ensure things remained intact when you started to crumble, it was the reason you two worked so well together. It was the reason you could trust her to put you back together whilst you sat still and helpless.

"Somebody get Paige," she said aloud.

"No!" you cried, looking frantically at her, "No, no I don't want her to see me like this, she can't."

"Honey," she wore a look of sympathy as she spoke to you, "you gotta breathe. I'm gonna leave and she's gonna come in here, you're gonna be fine."

You could only nod in response. Morgan had always been adept at reassuring you, persuading you that everything was fine even when it felt like your world was unraveling. As the room gradually emptied, leaving just the two of you, you finally gave in to the tears, allowing the warm droplets to slowly trickle down your face.

Morgan held you tightly, her own eyes pricking with tears at the sight of her best friend in shambles.

You felt frustrated with yourself. Today was meant to be the happiest day of your life; after seven years of dreaming about it, you and Paige were finally getting married. It was the start of a new chapter you had eagerly anticipated. Yet here you were, on the verge of ruining everything because you couldn't manage your emotions. Why couldn't you just get a grip? Why couldn't you just focus on everything good that was to come instead of everything that could go wrong?

What if this doesn't work out?

What if she falls out of love?

What if she feels like you're trapping her?

Paige could hear your sobs through the door, and her own nerves rose at the mere sound of it. She hadn't been told why you were crying, all she knew was that you had refused to leave the room multiple times. Her hands shook as she grabbed the doorknob, twisting it open to reveal you and Morgan sitting in the corner. She could've sworn she felt her heart break in that moment, she had never seen you this pained.

Morgan stood to her feet, placing a kiss to your temple before approaching Paige at the door.

"What happened?" Paige whispered with furrowed brows, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Morgan and you.

"I have no clue," she shook her head, "she said she couldn't breathe and then she just broke down...I don't know what to do Paige." It was the first time in her entire life that Morgan had no idea how to calm you down, she was beginning to panic as well.

"I got it," Paige reassured her, watching her leave and then shutting the door after her.

As she carefully approached you, she could hear you mumbling frenziedly into your hands. Your bouquet was on the ground beside you, a combination of pink and white hibiscuses all tied together with a blush colored bow. The two of you had gone out to pick them yourselves, Paige wanted them to be just right for you. They were perfect, everything was perfect, why were you crying?

"'M'sorry," you sobbed, "'m'so sorry."

She comfortingly wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer to her.

"What happened baby? Tell me what's wrong," she whispered.

"I can't do it," you repeated for the second time that day.

"Can't do what?" she frowned. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, to assume that by 'I can't do it' you meant marrying her. She couldn't lose you, she wouldn't.

"What if...if this is a mistake?" you panted, avoiding her eyes as she fought to catch yours. "What if later on you meet somebody else or you realize that i'm not enough for you?"

It was then that she realized this wasn't about you at all, it was about her. You were scared that she was getting cold feet, that she was having second thoughts, that her mind wasn't made up. She held you closer to her, kissing the top of your head as her own tears began to fall. She wondered if it had been something she had done to convince you that she wasn't all about you, that she wouldn't pick you in a room full of every other woman in the world.

She pulled away from you to get a better look at your face, holding either side of your face with her hands. "Stop talking like that, stop. That shit is never gonna happen and I know that for a fact. I can sit up here right now and tell you that falling out of love with you is several levels above impossible."

You blinked out more tears, staring silently at her as she professed her undying love for you.

"I am so in love with you it scares me. Every day that I wake up and can't be with you because i'm away for basketball or i'm out with some friends or anything else, all I do is think about you. And even when i'm with you, i'm still thinking about you. I can't even keep my hands off of you, like i'd need to be physically restrained for that to happen. You make me wanna do things i've never done before like jump out of a plane or swim in that little ass cage with the sharks around it because all I wanna do it impress you. I want you to stare at me with those big brown eyes and tell me how much you love me, and I wanna record your laugh so I can listen to it on repeat whenever you're not around.

I want you to force me to watch romcom movies that you've seen a thousand times and are only watching again because you want me to see them. I wanna come home really late at night and find you sleeping on the couch in my clothes because you missed me, and then in the morning I want you to tell me how you tried to stay up to see me when I came home. I'm planning to take you to all the countries that you've dreamed about visiting and just haven't had the time yet. I'm gonna be front row at your med school graduation with a huge poster of your face that blocks everyone behind me from seeing you. I wanna go back and forth with you over what to name our first kid, and I wanna combine all of our money so we can build an obnoxiously big house.

I swear to God, and I never swear to him so that's how you know I'm being so serious, I'll be damned if I spend my life with anyone other than you. Nobody else is worth my time. All I need is you baby, that's fucking it."

You and Paige were bawling together, both of your makeup needing desperately to be redone. It would push the wedding back for sure, but that didn't matter now, Paige loved you.

You pulled her in for a kiss, ignoring the way both of your tears were mixing together. She wouldn't touch anything other than your arms, not wanting to ruin your dress.

"I love you. I'm not leaving this spot until you understand that," Paige said firmly.

You nodded your head, swallowing the lump in your throat that had begun to shrink since the moment Paige stepped in here.

"I understand it."

"Do you still wanna do this?"

You shook your head, watching intently as Paige let out a sigh but nodded nonetheless.

"I'm kidding! Fuck, let's fucking do this!"

Paige playfully pushed your shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she stood up. "I'm gonna go grab that fancy makeup lady and tell her to get you right, and then i'm telling Morgan to work her magic and impress everybody with one of her weird talents to buy us time," she explained quickly, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine, now go and fix the mess I made," you laughed.

She placed another quick peck on your lips, hurrying out of the room and leaving you alone with your thoughts again. This time however, they were a thousand times more collected than before. You laughed at yourself, you were silly to second guess Paige's love for you. She had never, not once, given you a reason to. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face was a wreck and it'd take a miracle to hide the swelling of your eyes. But again, none of that mattered.

Paige loved you.

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