#I wish I hadn't many tears

[honokepi]

it's my birthday again

[cowboythewizard726]

WELCOME BACK TO LAIOS POSTING today everything went wrong for my beautiful baby princess and but its oaky because the way he experience all the misery was so appealing and attractive oh him IM GAY AND I ADMIT IT IM GAY IM GAY IIM GA

[calenhads]

episode review i am never going to recover from this

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

→ premise: steve and bucky would follow you to the ends of the earth. one call of their names and they’re at your service. they’re obsessed, only problem is you aren’t theirs, not yet anyways.

→ pairing: roomates!stucky x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, body worship, love marks [hickies, bites, etc], nicknames [baby, sweetie, sweets], mention of cheating [not reader or the boys]

→ a/n: kinktober 01

Living with two grown men may seem like an odd arrangement, but when those men would go to the ends of the earth to make you comfortable it wasn’t so bad. You’ve been living with Steve and Bucky for almost 2 years and it was amazing. You didn’t understand why they were always so caring and attentive to you, not that you were complaining but it had led to fights with your boyfriend John. He accused you of cheating on him with one if not both of them multiple times. Though you repeatedly denied it and said they have never even laid a hand on you in that way.

Although unbeknownst to you was how many times late into the night with soft footsteps Steve would sneak into Bucky's room or vice versa. The both of them worked up over all the depraved and dirty images of you and your hands on them flashing in their heads as they tried to sleep. Soft kisses to muffle their desperate moans against the others lips, hips pressed up against one another. A hand each wrapped around the other man's cock fisting it trying to get the thoughts of you to quiet down in their heads. Them pulling apart slowly in the end with swollen lips, cum covered chests and the odd unfulfillment of both men secretly wishing you were squeezed between them.

In the middle of a particularly nasty fight with your boyfriend about the same topic he let his own infidelity slip, admitting he cheated on you.

“Well, I'm glad I cheated on you, it only makes us fair if you’re going around screwing and whoring yourself out for your roommates” His words replayed in your head even now as you sluggishly pushed your way inside your apartment.

The front door slamming shut and your muffled sniffles and cries have Steve and Bucky jumping up on their feet before you even make it fully inside.

”Hey hey sweetie what happened” Steve coos as he lightly tries wiping away your tears with the sleeve of his shirt though more and more just kept pouring from your eyes. Steve was to your right and Bucky to your left, they often crowarded your space but an odd comfort and sense of security came with it, especially now. In an attempt to explain you let out broken words cut off with cries and sniffles that sound like gibberish to the boys.

“Let's sit down, sweets okay?” Bucky questions softly and hesitantly as they both lead you with a hand hovering over your back towards the large couch In the living room. Nodding and dragging your feet you let them guide you, finally sitting and taking a moment to compose yourself. You steal a glance either side of you at your wonderful roommates, only making a larger pit grow in your stomach. You were upset but more than anything worried about their reactions.

With a deep breath in you finally start explaining what happened.

“John and I had a fight again… about the same thing as always him saying i had to be cheating on him with one of you, he even accused me of sleeping with both of you” you scoff softly recalling his vile tone with his accusation. Wordlessly you watch the boys exchange an unreadable glance at one another before they return their eyes to you. “What about this fight made you cry?” Steve questions. You hadn't cried ever after a fight about this with him, only complained. They watched as tears brimmed in your eyes again, Steve's hands were fidgeting in his lap, itching to touch you. He wanted to comfort you but it felt wrong to touch you when talking about you fighting with your boyfriend specially over them. Bucky silently mulling over the information encouraging you to go on with a soft nod, while also trying to refrain from touching you no matter how bad he felt the urge to.

“And he blurted out how he's glad he also cheated on me so that makes us fair..” your tears finally spill over and hit your thighs soaking your jeans a bit as you put your head down, bracing yourself for their reactions mostly Buckys. He was known to be a little hot headed especially when it came to you being hurt. You can feel both men fuming each side of you, Steve suddenly now reaching out and rubbing up and down your thigh. Pushing away his anger at your boyfriend as much as he can, he pushes your face up softly with his fingers so you look at him. “He doesnt deserve you if that's the way he thinks” you could hear the hatred for the man behind Steve's words though he tried to hide it.

“Oh he’s a fuckin’ dead man” Bucky fumes and in a flash is up off the couch, fists balled at his sides ready to wring your boyfriends neck. Lunging forward across Steve's lap to grab Bucky's hand and stop his stampede you pull at him so he looks at you. “No please dont, just stay here with me.. we broke up anyway” your voice comes out soft and a bit wobbly still near the end as it was full of desperation. Though the emotion was mostly for the fact you wanted to just be comforted by them both. You miss the way their eyes light up and glance at each other when the words ‘break up’ register in their heads. When Bucky still hasn't moved though now it's more from shock you turn your head to face Steve. You hadn't realized how close your faces were but give him a pleading look with your eyes asking for his help.

Both of the boys feel as though their hearts are gonna burst out of their chests and they’d be okay with it if they died like this. Your soft hand in Bucky’s pulling him still towards you, fingers slowly intertwining with his rough ones. The warmth from your hand seeping into his usually cold one. Your body draped across Steve's lap and your face inches away from his, your eyes glued to his. The smell of your perfume surrounding him, the scent making his head go foggy.

The blonde shallows thickly before finally finding his voice, “You want us both to stay and comfort you?” He questions and even tests the waters by letting his hand drift to your lower back. You nod in the direction of both of them, watching slowly as Bucky's tense shoulders relax and he turns his body to face you.

Moving slowly as if he were trying not to spook you like a deer, he bends down and softly grabs ahold of your face so you're looking right in his eyes.

“He didn’t fucking deserve you never did, not like we do..” Bucky's anger was still clearly a bit prevalent, he couldn’t believe the asshole would cheat when he had you. He didn’t mean to slip up at the end, yet there was the underlying satisfaction of the fact that you were nearly all theirs now.

You thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest now and Steve was ready to smack his roommate upside the head for letting both their feelings for you come out. “What buck meant to say-” you cut him off in the middle. “Show me what I deserve..” you say with determination while looking into bucky's eyes though it’s aimed equally at both men. They’re both frozen for a moment looking at you in shock, if this was some weird shared wet dream they don't ever wanna wake up. After a grumbled ‘fuck it’ leaving the brunette’s mouth breaks the silence, he surges forward crashing his lips against yours. A squeal leaving your mouth morphs into a soft hum of appreciation. Heat floods your whole body and down your core at the prolonged intense kiss.

You’ve never been kissed with this much love and excitement in your life, it sends your head spinning when you pull away. A smirk blooms on his face as he takes in both yours and Steve's love-struck and frozen expressions. Taking the reins, Bucky softly moves your face over to face your roommate once again and takes one hand off your face to plant on the back of the other man's neck. “How about you give Stevie some lovin’ huh baby?” He directed softly only making your head spin more and giving Steve flashbacks of Buck guiding him on how to please him. You could feel him getting hard under you as your body was still pressed against his lap, the feeling giving you a confidence boost. That coupled with a small nudge from the brunette's hands on the both of you, your lips crash together.

The feeling snapping Steve out of his frozen state as he lets out a choked whine, kissing you felt better than he could've ever imagined and he had multiple nights. Grabbing a hold of your body he lifts you up and onto his lap, only breaking the kiss for a second. His lips return to yours as his hands now finally allowed to roam your body. Running up and down your thighs, pushing up at the bottom of your shirt, rubbing down your back. “We’ll show you just how much you deserve to be appreciated sweetie, gladly” he groans against your lips.

“Please~” you whine into the kiss and lightly grind your hips against his. You hadn't noticed Bucky's hands leaving your body until they returned rubbing at your neck and down your arms as he was moving to sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, your back facing him. His knee slots under you and between the other man's thighs, supporting your body on their legs. His hands help Steve’s along in removing your shirt, kissing down your spine softly. “Wanna mark you up so bad sweets make you ours, shoulda always been ours” Buck mouths against your back and sucks leaving a trail of hickies down your spine as he runs his hands down your thighs and over the blondes wasit.

You pull away from the kiss, your eyes glazing over in lust as you take in Steve's swollen lips and flushed face. “Mark me please, more both of you” you whine out greedily as Bucky grabs onto your chin manipulating your face so your head is turned to face him and kisses you feverishly again. The boys work in perfect tandem and sync to strip you of your pants as well as maneuver around so now you are on your back pressed against the soft suddenly not nearly large enough couch and Steve is nestled between your thighs. Bucky is crouched down by your face and chest next to the couch.

Steve hands have a bruising grip on your hips as he lifts them so your legs are propped up on his muscular thighs. “God he’s such an idiot, how could he cheat when he had all this? Huh? God we wanted you so bad baby you have no idea” he rambles out as his hands worship and rub at your hips and thighs and even down your legs. “Wanted to feel these hips and thighs wrapped around my head so bad, thought about it every night fuck” he groans. “We both thought such dirty things about our pretty little roomate baby” Buck chimes in from beside you.

You were certain your panties were ruined by now, soaked with your slick, your clit throbbing in desperation for even just one of them to give attention to it. Your hips buck up in response to his words and his hands. Bucky’s hands were palming at your tits and rubbing your arms as he marked up your neck and chest. Reaching under you he unclasps your bra, pulling the one strap down to reveal your breast closest to him, he starts to lick and suck on your nipple. “Fantasized about these fuckin’ pretty tits in my face as you’d ride me sweets” he moans agianst your chest as his one hand gropes the neglected tit. “Mmm fuck~” you gasp out in response to their words and when steve bites down on the plush and senstive skin of your inner thigh. You were almost entirely naked and their large heater bodies pressed against your exposed skin fought off any type of breeze in the room. Your body felt on fire, from the two sets of roaming hands and the two desperate mouths marking and exploring your body, worshiping every inch. Whines and moans coming from all three of you filled the apartment.

By now there was hardly any un-bruised skin, hickies littered your chest and back from Bucky, bite marks and hickies covered your stomach and thighs from Steve and you swore you had fingertip sized bruises from their grip on you. They didn't wanna let go, they held onto you the whole time both too afraid that if they did the moment would end. The boys wanted to spend hours like this if you'd let them.

You were theirs now whether you really knew it or not and they were never gonna stop showing you the appreciation you deserve and they were far from done.

→ a/n: happy first day of kinktober my loves!! this one got away from me a bit, not every day will be over 1,000 words but this one was lol. also sorry to any johns i just picked a random name lol. this also was not proofread to well as i rushed to get it up.

[dawnwriterimagines]

September Morning

LOGAN HOWLETT X FEM!READER LAURA KINNEY X PLATONIC!READER

Summary: Recalling the last day he'd held you.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

September.

A September morning it had been.

He remembers the sudden change of pace in the mansion, the school year was starting, students would be lining up in the halls for the start of the semester.

You had been so looking forward to returning to teaching, to your students.

Planning and setting up a curriculum, a classroom, that they'd never get to see.

It was a September morning...

Logan had kissed you that morning.

But, not in the way he should've. Not in the way he wished he had.

It was swift, a tight-lipped peck on the forehead per your bitter request. You had to practically beg him to show you a hint of romance these days, he'd been pulling himself away from you at the time. Feigning uninterest in your relationship, in you.

But, it hadn't been true.

His feelings for you could never be explained in words, 'Love' felt too simple, too modest, so he never said it. But, that had been it. He was in love, devastatingly so. Night and Day. Dreams and daydreams. Even his nightmares, spiraling images of mayhem that would silence with your presence. Every thought, every moment, every breath seemed to be dedicated just to you.

And it made the future a terror in his mind.

He's lived decades, over a century, through wars, torture, plagues and lovers. Nothing in his life ever lasted, especially nothing good.

Though this was his longest relationship, and you shared a healing factor that contributed to you living since the 1890s while appearing as a woman in her late 20s. Naturally, he looked forward to many more years with you, decades and decades of breathless love, a hundred lifetimes.

But, Logan was a disease. A plague on anything good that came his way. One day, he'd always come to destroy the beautiful things he loved so much.

And he didn't want that to be you.

So, thinking it was the best thing for you, for the both of them in the long run, he slowly, agonizingly stretched the bonds of your relationship. He stopped kissing you unless you asked, stopped touching you unless you begged, stopped eating with you at breakfast, stopped embracing you, indulging you, loving you in the way you needed. He stopped everything, but slowly, so slowly.

Logan couldn't help himself, he wanted it all to last. But, it couldn't.

When he caught himself slipping, staring at you a little too long, kissing you a bit too fiercely, he'd curse himself. Dig his claws into his skin, piercing the flesh and tearing a scream from his lungs.

It was to protect you.

His feelings couldn't get in the way of you being safe from him. From the bad luck that followed him up from hell, that clung to his form and wrapped around anything to close.

It was a September morning when he was confronted by you.

"Logan," you took his wrist as he tried to part from you. "What's wrong?" you wondered, sadly.

He doesn't turn to face you, keeping his eye on the bedroom door, leaving you, he had to leave. If he stayed any longer... "Don't do this again, nothing's wrong."

"Of course, there is," you pulled at his hand, trying to pull him back. Back to you. "There's been something wrong for a long while, just tell me. Tell me and we can figure it out."

"Tell you what?" Logan coldly glanced back at you. "Haven't I told you enough?"

"You haven't told me anything," you frowned, staring right back. "This, whatever you're doing, isn't saying anything. I don't want you to walk away. I need you to talk to me."

He rips his wrist from your grip, forcefully, turning fully to face you, nostrils flaring but it doesn't faze you. You've handled the wolverine's temper before, hell your relationship used to be malicious before it became romantic. "Then you must be deaf," he says. "I think I've been more than clear. Any person with sense would've gotten it by now. Or maybe you're not as smart as I thought."

"Don't do that," Jaw tensing, your eyes narrow at your lover. "Don't be a child. Just say it. Tell me how you feel instead of pushing me away to make it easier on yourself."

"If you don't know by now," he spoke, he took a breath as he struggled to say much else. "I haven't been showing you clearly."

At that, you quiet a bit. Eyes flickering around his face for the truth, face falling, hurt evident in your expression, his heart hurts at the look, but he masks his agony as best as he knows.

Logan was physically stiffening up, fists clenched up, jaw clicking, he wasn't ready to confront this with you. He never even wanted it to end, he thought it'd be easier. So, he doesn't say anything, fighting with himself, expression twisting with his rampant thoughts.

"Logan," your painful expression nearly breaks him. You open your mouth, but your words come out in a stuttered whisper before falling quiet again. You're lost, confused.

"I don't understand. I...I thought we'd...found each other. Didn't we? Find each other," you murmured. "In all this pain, and grief, I found you, Logan..." the crack in your voice makes him turn away, a grimace along his face, a wince at your words.

Though you hadn't lived as long as him, you'd faced a century of hardship, decades of loneliness, death and vulnerability, you'd known no concept of safety until the X-Men. Until him.

Found through the rubble, you'd pulled each other out of, it was easy to fall in love. Promises of forever and beyond even that. Promises of together through the end of time, through the end of the world. Logan Howlett had confessed his love a thousand times over without saying a word, and you'd believed him like he held every precious ounce of trust in his hands.

You take his hand now, your eyes filling with tears as he stayed silent, your thumb running along his knuckles, he lets you. "Tell me you found me," as you cried, he takes your face in his hands, bridging the gap between you. Your first tear runs down his fingers, he wipes them away. "Tell me you love me..."

Logan Howlett speaks a truth he's regretted throughout his life afterwards, a moment that would plague his dreams for the rest of his life. "Have I ever before?" he wondered simply.

Instantly you're out of his arms, stumbling back away as if he'd burned you. Your eyes are wide, they dart away from him, your shoulders dropping as you come to the terrible conclusion, he was right. Logan had never said he'd loved you.

Logan's eyes burn, his fingers curling in on themselves and his chest hurts too much to take a breath. He wants to take it all back. Beg on his knees for forgiveness. He'd do anything. Jump through fire, fall in a pit of snakes, fight an army, snatch as many souls from hell that he needed to get back into your arms.

But, this was the plan. This was how it had to be.

Every word meant to sting, to burn and brandish you in a way that destroys your love for Logan Howlett.

Pulling himself away from this room before he can face your tears for another moment, he turns the knob to the door, opening and closing it behind him.

Stomping down the hallway, fighting every step as he could smell, hear, practically taste the sobs that tore from your throat as he leaves.

He nearly collapses as he takes the corner, his hand pressing into the side wall to steady himself. His heart in his ears, breathing harshly as his eyes redden and sting with unshed tears.

"Logan?" Scott sounds from behind him, questioning. "Everything alright?"

His rival, his friend, puts his hand on his shoulder, but it's shrugged off immediately. "Fine," Logan says without turning. Continuing down the hallway and away from him.

Scott makes a face, confused, before turning to Jean, who follows him out of their room. She notices Logan turning the next corner down to the stairs, "What's going on?"

"No idea," Scott sighs. "Just Logan being his usual self."

At the sound of a motorcycle driving away from the driveway, he glances out of the side window of the manor, frowning deeply as he watches Logan speed away.

Jean hums, amused. "Surprised?"

"Never," Scott says, before perking up as he hears your crying down the hallway. "Or maybe I am. Is that (y/n)?"

Jean's face falls, she steps out into the hall, walking slowly over to your room. Your crying louder this time, she rushes over to the room. "(Y/n)!" she knocks hurriedly, before bursting inside. Holding you instantly as you collapse to the floor, your hands covering your face, you hiccup, allowing Jean to hold you tight. "Hey, hey, what happened, what's going on?"

Scott comes up to the open doorway, confused, worried. But, he opts for giving the women their privacy, closing the door a crack, before reaching for his phone and texting Logan.

This was unlike Logan. Well, upsetting you was unlike him, not being an asshole, that was completely like him.

But, he knew how much Logan loved you, never saying so much as a tease that would indirectly upset you. Logan was smitten for years, unable to even put his feelings into words without going flustered. Something was wrong.

Angrily typing, Scott sends the text to his teammate, before perking up in surprise as a subtle beep rings out in the hall. He walks around the corner, down the hallway, and notices a phone laying on the edge of the steps, Logan's phone. He frowns. "Shit."

He sighs then, walking back around the hall. Running into Ororo, the weather goddess's brows are furrowed in worry. "What's going on with Logan? He looked upset, what happened?"

"You should see (Y/n)," Scott breathes, disappointed. Ororo's eyes widen at the news. "I've never seen them like this."

"Oh my," she frowns, before a streak of light passes by the window, nearly blinding them both.

"Jeez, what the hell," Scott turns, putting his hand up as the light gets brighter. Is that the afternoon sun?

But, it's not the sun. It's humming...like metal vibrating against the glass.

The light eases and the two mutants stare in horror. A sentinel, giant in size, it's eye peaking into the X-Manor, it's glowing red eye catching sight of the two of them immediately.

"SCOTT!" Jean screams.

He and Ororo spin around as a beam of light tears through the hallway, through the walls, through the glass. Tearing apart the building as a rush of power obliterates everything, a green blast of fiery energy coursing through the bricks.

"JEAN!" Scott bellows. "(Y/N)!"

You, with Jean in tow in your arms, flying through the chaos, dirt and scorching heat searing through your skin, having narrowly avoided the beam. Jean casting a telepathic shield as you both ram through the side wall and away from the sentinel shooting from the northside of the building. "Go, go, go!"

Ororo takes Scott's hand, the two of them lifted by the winds and hurtling out of the window as the radiating beam tears through where they were last standing.

Jean and you following, a sentinel chasing after the two of you, you glance backwards as you force gravity to propel you forwards and towards the tree line. Your swollen eyes widen in horror as the chest of a sentinel pops open, falling down to meet you and Jean. The metal tendrils bursting through and wrapping around your ankle, quickly you let go of a surprised Jean.

She screams as she falls before hurriedly catching herself, as she carefully lands on the grass below, rolling down to safety. A dirty smear of soot along her face, she looks up, watching to her terror as you're swallowed inside of a sentinel, it's tendrils wrapping around your body and pulling you inside of it's trap.

You scream as the doors slam shut, hand extending outwards. Out towards the road, out towards Logan.

Jean's hands immediately rise upwards, desperately, "No, no!" she cries, but then the inside becomes engulfed in flames, you scream in agony in the air as your prison of metal suffocates you in a sudden rush of fire. "NOOO!" Jean screams, the violent light of a burning flame fills her eyes as she sobs out in horror.

The sentinel crashes downwards toward the far tree line with you buried in its casket, Jean's telepathic pull interrupted at the sheer weight of it's fall. She rushes down, running desperately, but the northside sentinel crashes down in front of her, it's beam of light rushing down on her.

Ororo with tears in her angry eyes pulls the winds down and towards Jean, pushing her out of the way of the lethal attack. She then pulls lightning from the sky, storm clouds rolling in, rain falling from them, a sudden strike of electricity collides with the large sentinel. It jerks, it's metal shuddering and loosening, but it then turns to her, it's beam whistling through the air.

She flies up, avoiding it. Then past the sentinel, pulling lightning from the clouds, she desperately strikes at the sentinel balled up by the tree line that burns with fire with you inside. With a cry, she brings it down, splintering its shell. But then, before her eyes, the metal changes in texture, from a dented metal, to a rocky surface of stone.

Fire spills out, and she can hear your weakened vocals crying for help.

Ororo wails like a vengeful spirit, bringing down the wrath of the storm down on the shield of the sentinel. But, without warning, a large hand of a sentinel swings toward her, knocking the weather goddess out of the sky. "Ah!"

Scott rips his glasses off his face, beams of concussive force springing from them and knocking the giant robot back a few feet, it's hand coming up to block the attach. The beam wearing down on it's metal, but it comes closer and closer.

With a rageful cry, his beams become larger, nearly covering the giant being, it stumbles back, the ground rumbling with each forced step back.

Jean lifts herself up, a telepathic push shoving the sentinel over before it can restart its beam to attack Scott. "Rah!" the sentinel lands on its back, nearly blowing them all back with the force of it.

As the sentinel falls, the rest of the X-Men emerge from the manor, Hank and Charles guiding the students out of the building and towards the field, away from the chaos.

Without wasting a second, the X-Men rush down the tree line, to the sentinel that's captured you, no noise escapes the trap. Jean telepathically tears into the metal, the sentinel's regenerative body fighting against her wishes. Forcing the metal to open, a terrible heat pouring out of the cracks, no one can get close enough, your crumbling hand falling out limply.

Jean screams.

Ororo cries. "No!"

Scott curses, hands coming up and over his head, horrified. "Oh God!"

Another streak of light tears through the field, rushing up towards them all this time, a violent beam of energy destroying everything. They turn, but it's too late.

---

Logan turns his glass, watching as the liquid swishes and shifts with every move.

Sitting in a local pub in the city, he sighed heavily to himself. He can't stop thinking of your face, how you looked when he said all those things, when he gave you lives that he'd forced you to believe.

He beats his forehead with his fist, grimacing miserably, as he sat there, taking another swig of his beer. "Fucking idiot," he curses himself.

Why did he have to ruin that? Every good thing. Ruined.

Why did he have to do this to himself?

What kind of joke was his life? This one thing. He couldn't just have this one thing...

No. He remembered. He couldn't.

He took another drink, waiting for the kick. He sighs at the burn in his throat that he waits to numb his thoughts to silence.

Against his better judgement, Logan takes out his wallet, realizing he'd forgotten his phone. He opens it, eyes softening at the picture of you he kept there, pulling it out, it was folded to block him out of the picture.

He held a little smile, letting you pull him to your face so you both were smushed together for a happy little photo. He recalled the day as it being the moment he knew he wanted to spend every waking moment with you, it was also the day he realized his selfish faults for dragging you into the mess of his life. But, dammit he wanted you so bad, he wanted to keep you, to love you as you loved him, eternally.

He couldn't have that.

Logan Howlett was destined never to have that again, he had decided.

But....the thing is he could've. Right?

He thought to himself, you weren't an average woman, you were an X-Man, an immortal so it seemed. You were no normal woman that he'd lose to time or disasters.

He could have you for decades more, a century longer. A millennia if you both were lucky.

Who else could say that? Just you. Just the two of you, really.

And he's been so desperate to ruin that...for fears that may never come true.

Logan thoughtfully puts his glass down, glancing around as he thinks to himself, what an idiot he was.

He bursts from his seat, a newfound purpose in himself, a revelation that he hadn't had before. He could be happy with you, as long as he protected you, as long as he loved you, as long as he left behind that plague that followed him. Leaving it behind in that stool, tearing himself from the darkness that followed him constantly, he thought only of you.

The things he'd make up for. The moments he'd never taken with you. The days he'd cherish with you. The life you could build together.

But, first, he had to apologize. And fuck, did he have a lot to apologize for.

As Logan's leaving the pub, the news turns on, a broadcast that makes him stop at the door.

"Breaking News, Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters, a home for wayward mutants in upstate new york, has been attacked as of 6 p.m. tonight, so far there's been 14 casualties and counting..." as the news anchor speaks, all attention going to Logan at the news. His eyes widening at the helicopter view of the manor ripped to shreds, smoke traveling up the ruined building. A sentinel striking down on the land.

"No," he breathes. "No, no!" Logan rushes out of the pub, to his motorcycle, revving the engine and driving off.

---

Arriving at the institute, driving straight into the smoke filled land, strands of flame, burned fields and falling embers from the crumbling manor. Logan looks around, blood running cold as he runs through the field, finding the bodies of his students, bodies broken or just their limbs seared right off from the beams.

He finds Scott, his eyes staring open into the sky, this glasses broken, but his eyes don't light up with red energy as they would've. He's gone.

Then Jean. A few paces away from Scott. Blood in her hair, reaching out for her husband. Gone.

He doesn't find Ororo until he finds Hank. The both of them dead next to one another, he cradles her in his arms, leaning over her.

"(Y/n)," he gasps out, sick to his stomach. He cries out again. "(Y/n)!"

His voice echoes in the silent, crackling field. The sentinels having gone, the carnage remaining.

A creak of metal falling apart makes him turn quickly, rushing to the noise, the smoke is heavy here, embers flying to the sky.

Creaking metal splits, a sentinel he realizes, but it'd been burned through the inside out, charred.

A body falls out of the crack, hitting the grass as it crumbles.

His grief moves him first, rushing over, "Oh my god, oh my god," he repeats to himself as he runs. "(Y/N)!" Logan screams.

Dropping down in front of his lover, your skin cracked and burned to charcoal, hardened to the touch, beneath the skin, he can still see the flames that scorch beneath. And yet your eyes still find him.

He takes you in his arms, feeling as your body begins to crumble away. "No, no, no, what's happening?" he shudders as he realizes you're not healing. "No, why aren't you--why aren't you healing?" he takes your face in his hands, gentler this time than he had this morning, than he had any day. "Why aren't you healing, baby?"

He looks closely, your body's sustained blasts from explosions, beams, you've walked through flames before. What's going on?

Logan shakes his head. "Why--" he doesn't known what to do. "Come on, come on, please. You've gotta heal, darlin'. Come on."

Your heavy-lidded eyes just stare at him, you breathe subtly, hardly a breath at all.

Tears run freely down Logan's face this time. "I lied," he began quickly. "I had found you before I knew I loved you. I found you in my dreams and in my thoughts before I slept, I found you in every moment of every day, (Y/n), please," he admitted to his love. Eyes flickering around to see if her body would finally start regenerating as it always had, but you continued to crumble and crack. "Please. Please, (y/n), please," he sobbed.

A hiss of steam runs off your face, your tears sizzle away on your skin as they leave you. Your eyes closing briefly as Logan puts your forehead to his, "I love you in every moment," he hiccupped. "Of every day, of every hour," he gasps out as he feels your hand dragging up to his wrist. He takes your hand, it's fragile, cracking beneath the weight of his touch and the effort to move.

"I love you..." you speak with your last breath, sparing it for him.

"I love you," he cried, reaching down, kissing your lips.

He feels your hand crumble to dust in his hands, your legs in his lap lose weight as they follow in the same way. As your lips fall apart, he kisses your forehead, unable to open his eyes to watch as you fall away.

Logan breathes in a painful breath, heart breaking as he can't feel you in his arms any long. Squeezing the remains of you in his fists, he inhales deeply, a stutter of an agonizing sound, he cries as he finds the strength to open his eyes.

Nothing left of his lover, nothing left of you, but the embers that flies in the air, the ashes at his feet.

"Oh god," he cried, bringing himself down to the ground, fisting his hands in your ashes. He shakes violently, weeping into your remains, before sitting up and wailing into the air, a scream ripping through his lungs, tearing at his vocals.

The terrible sound could be heard miles away from the destroyed manor.

---

Years later, Logan sits at a pub. Taking another shot of whiskey.

"Another," he requests.

"No more," the bartender says to him, frowning with a look of disgust. "You know you're not welcome here."

Logan glances up, jaw tightening before sighing, fists unclenching. "Just one more and I'm outta here."

Reluctantly the bartender pours him another.

And then suddenly, a red suited merc jumps out of a portal, clumsily flipping off the pool table and spinning over towards the empty stool next to Logan.

Part 2 coming soon.

[avatar-anna]

this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[ylangelegy]

After MAMA awards I'M VERY PROUD OF MY BOYS and seeing Woozi crying, nooooo my mannnnn

So can I request Woozi or anyone after awards, all members celebrating with their partners hehe LOVE YOUUU!!!

PLEASE PLEASE 🛐🛐

🍑 i will really live the rest of my life repaying you.

you don't see seungcheol until the next day. such is the life of the general leader, it seems— the never-ending heralding, the non-stop worrying. he deals with his boys, first, then the fans, then the staff. but once that's all done, he's at your front door, collapsing into your arms before he's even past through the entryway. it doesn't matter how many awards its been. he is still overwhelmed by it every single time, and you are a soft place to land. he comes home to you and whispers the sweetest nothings in your hair. i'm so proud of them and they did so well and they're so happy. as he holds you tight— like you're the only thing keeping him upright— it's your turn to let him hear those words. i'm so proud of you. you did so well. you get to be happy, too.

the jeonghan on the other end of the video call has been quiet for the most part of the past half-hour. you'd be more worried if you hadn't already predicted where his solemness was coming from. "hannie? still with me?" you prompt gently, and he finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look back at you. "yeah. yeah, i'm with you," he answers. a beat. there are some things you no longer have to say out loud. how he wishes he was there. how he misses them and tries not to let it show. instead, you give him a reminder that's quiet and firm. "this is yours, too," you say. this award. this moment. these boys. all still his. there's a ghost of a smile on his face as he mumbles, "right. of course. how could i forget."

joshua likes keeping lists. a running one he has with you is that of gratitude, where the two of you try to end each day with acknowledgements of what you're grateful for. you're expecting a whole essay for him after tonight. he surprises you by keeping it short, sweet, and straight to the point. in no particular order, he types out into your shared note. music, the boys, you. hours later, he adds a footnote like it'd occurred to him as an afterthought: i'm always grateful for those three, but especially so today.

"look at them!" jun shrieks. his video call pixelates, either from spotty connection or his sudden burst of enthusiasm. you have half a mind to warn him that he may get a noise complaint again, but this time it'd be completely warranted. he's positively vibrating with excitement, his eyes glued to the livestream of his twelve brothers ascending the stage for their second award of the night. "look at them," he repeats, and this time his voice is more reverent than anything. you could comply, could do as he's asking, but your eyes are trained elsewhere. and look at you, too, you want to say. look at you and all that you've done to get this far.

even though it's been an exceptionally long day, soonyoung comes home brimming with adrenaline. he does dance routines in your living room. he jogs around your block until you beg him to just come back. he sings in the shower before collapsing onto the bed next to you, where he suddenly becomes boneless. the glow of pride stays even as the exhaustion hits. he pulls you against him and cuddles right into you. to soonyoung, this is as good as any trophy: the peace that comes with falling asleep next to you.

wonwoo has no destination in mind. he has a car with a full tank, and a playlist of all his favorite songs, and you in the passenger seat. that's more than enough. you pass through tunnels with warm lighting; expressways where he keeps the windows down so the wind will whip at your hair. occasionally, you'll stop to grab a snack or take a photo of something interesting on the side of the street. after hours of just going in circles, he'll ask, "should we keep driving?" even though he knows you'd never deny him this. this. his little celebration in the form of getting 'lost' with you.

nobody hears from jihoon for the next couple of days. the managers are worried, but the boys all just shake their heads and say that he's in good hands. which means: he's wherever you are. the two of you don't talk about his speech, about his public breakdown, because both things make him want to hide forever. instead— he sleeps in. he watches movies from months ago that he promised he'd get to. the two of you go on walks at night, and have breakfast at lunch time. the vicious cycle will soon have to begin again. jihoon knows that. but for a few, precious moments, his heart is not a heavy burden because it's safe and sound in your capable hands.

seokmin takes you on the textbook definition of your perfect date. a shopping spree? here's his black card. an amusement park? he'll rent out lotte world for the day, if he must. you're understandably baffled. he's the one who just won big, and yet you're the one being treated like royalty. try to resist and he'll only push back on you. seokmin already spoils you enough as is, but this is just a little more over-the-top than the day-to-day stuff. at the end of it all, his rationale is as sweet as it gets. "you keep me going," he tells you. "and so you deserve just as much credit as i do."

mingyu has always liked to celebrate with a meal. you'd expected his usual fare of some swanky restaurant or high-end café, but, this time, he asks for only free reign of your kitchen. he props his phone up against the salt shaker and pulls up a youtube video before flashing you his best 'just-trust-me' grin. your trust is not misplaced; the two of you do manage to bake the celebratory cake, though whether it's any good is an entirely different story. the end result doesn't matter as much as the process. mingyu is happiest about the flour marks on your cheeks, about the kisses he steals while you whisk eggs. it's not a birthday cake, but you light up a candle for him anyway. just for the hell of it. "make a wish," you tease. he's looking straight at you as he blows at the flame.

minghao asks for a beach day. the two of you set out for the nearest one. maybe the sand is a bit rocky; the shore, lacking in shells. he doesn't care. he only seeks out the sun beating on his back, the saltwater clinging to his skin, the first punch of air after emerging from the water. as the stolen weekend winds to a close, the two of you sit at the point where the water lap at your toes. neither of you have to speak. here, minghao lets the tide wash away the ache of homesickness. here, minghao redefines 'home' as a future with the boys of his youth, with the music that is as constant as the waves— and with you, of course.

the ferry ride to jeju is about four or so hours long, but seungkwan doesn't mind. there's just something so right about getting on the first vessel that will take him back where he has family waiting with a homecooked meal and a play-by-play of the award show. besides, the ferry means having four hours of uninterrupted leisure time with you. the pair of you literally have nowhere else to be except this boat and this point in time, which seungkwan is a little guilty to be so happy about. he's a glutton for your time and attention, and these ferry rides— these trips home— remind him just how much he likes taking the scenic route.

vernon treats it almost like it's just another day. almost. you're thrown off by his initial nonchalance, by the lack of utter fanfare in the way he asks you out to lunch and the two of you barely discuss the recent accolades. when you prompt him about it, you realize it's not because of arrogance or ignorance. "we're just doing what we always do," he says with an expression of mild confusion. winning?, you almost inquire half-jokingly, but that's only part of it. he elaborates, "we were just ourselves, y'know?"

when chan suggests a rage room, you're understandably confused. the wrath-based activity doesn't seem like the most optimal celebration, but you're not about to cramp his style. the two of you queue the angriest songs known to man before smashing some defunct appliances and throwing empty bottles against a wall. once your time is up, chan looks at you with that familiar spark of fire in his eyes. that dedication you fell in love with, that passion that has always burned bright. "again?" he asks, and you know it's not just the rage room that he's asking for.

[tamajiki2]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒!! 🫙 𝐒. 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒;

student/teacher relationships,

facefucking, age gap, pred reader,

manipulation and blackmail, top reader,

hehim amab reader, general dark content.

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄.

it was a fucking mistake.

that was all aizawa could think of as he shakily knelt on the shiny white tiles that floored his office. sure, it was a mistake, but it was one he could actually feel. and best of all? it felt good.

a hazy night dancing with coworkers and a few too many drinks. terrible decisions, and groaning into the crook of someone's neck. a blurry face, and the hard imprint of a cock rutting against his back. he could hardly see anything, let alone remember. bright white and a loud, shuddering orgasm. he could've sworn he was floating.

however, his fun was promptly put to an end when he was met with one of his third-year students sitting lazily at the desk chair in his office the following morning.

"[ name ].", he warned.

you smiled. what you were so giddy about, aizawa wasn't in a hurry to find out. you were usually a quiet, mild-tempered kid who remained comfortably around his friends, and never behaved outside the norm of the average student.

he watched, puzzled, as you ignored his call and rested your legs on top of his desk.

so what was up with this brazen display of confidence?

"i don't think you understand the situation you're in, teach.", you chuckled and pulled your phone from your pocket. that fateful day, he was too wasted to recognize you and you were too horny— sorry, ambitious to reject this shining opportunity right in front of you. you turned the screen so that aizawa could see its contents clearly.

his heart dropped.

it was him, sprawled out on pure white sheets. his eyes were half-lidded and hair disheveled as he was fucked on camera. he looked like a mess. he hardly even had the sense to cover his face while the flash raked over his entire body.

you waved the phone around, watching aizawa's eyes follow it with a gaze of pure resentment. "sleeping with a student, mr. aizawa? gee, that's terrible. you could lose your job over something like that, you know?", you hummed, voice light and teasing.

aizawa opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

you continued, "it's alright though, i have no intention of telling. as long as you do me a teensy favor..." you gestured for him to come close and aizawa knew he had no choice. aizawa grit his teeth as you stood, now face to face with him.

"on your knees."

which brought him to now.

aizawa stared down at the floor when the familiar jingle of metal scraped at his ears. then, the rapid clinking sound of a zipper. a pool of dread filled his stomach. a long pause during which he didn't dare to look up.

two light slaps against aizawa's cheek. you were already hard. he couldn't miss the distinctive feeling of veins pulsing against his skin.

"open wide.", you singsonged, pressing your tip to aizawa's lips.

reluctantly, he did, and immediately wished he hadn't as you gagged him on his cock. you didn't waste a second setting a brutal pace. you gripped him harshly by the hair, groaning something about how sexy he was. but aizawa couldn't hear you over his own rhythmic choking. aizawa desperately grasped at your thighs.

"ghk—", his back was arching, body trying to struggle against your hold. his eyes were burning.

globs of saliva and pre streamed down his chin and splattered onto the floor. you fucked his throat pliant; aizawa could feel every trace and curve of your cock in his brain. you looked down at him and, god, that almost threw you over the edge. his eyes were sparkling and wet with tearful shame. he no longer had energy to glare at you. not like it would do anything anyway, with your thick dick down his gullet. stray hairs stuck to his face which framed it like a pornographic painting. aizawa kneaded the back of your thighs in a wordless plea. that only drove you further into your descent to orgasm.

he thought that he'd surely die at a particularly rough snap of your hips. you had tangled more of his hair into your grip, like a ponytail, and were punching the back of his throat. aizawa whined loudly.

"shit, you feel so good. 'm gonna cum."

you were rolling your hips now, instead of thrusting like before. aizawa thought that was worse. he was forced down to your hilt where he would stay for what felt like hours, gagging and swallowing around your cock while you humped impossibly deep into his skull.

you couldn't think of anything else except the feeling of his throat tightening around you. damn, he was addictive. you leaned over him further restricting his movements. there's a strangled noise from under you.

'it's almost over', he thought, but 'almost' didn't seem like 'almost' anymore as you began an onslaught more viscous than the last. aizawa found himself fading in and out of consciousness, his vision light and blurring. 

one last snap of your hips and you were buried deep into him. he felt your seed scorching his already-sore throat. you pulled away, absolutely relishing in the mess you made of shota aizawa.

a thick layer of fluids coated his face and dripped down the front of his longsleeve. while he coughed and spluttered for air, you felt oddly endeared to him. you gently massaged your hands through his hair.

"i'll see you later, teach.", you said sweetly.

again, the rustling of clothes followed by that metallic 'zzzip'. your sturdy hands left him and aizawa swallowed thickly. he was sure he looked terrible. he did his best to wipe away the worst of it with his sleeves. the fabric felt like knives dragging across his raw skin. he let out a deep sigh upon hearing your descending footsteps and the door slam shut.

he noted his next class starting in a few hours and grimaced. he'd have to hurry and clean up if he wanted to make it in time. beforehand, though— he looked down at the crotch of his pants that were dark and sticky with cum— he had a situation to deal with.

“shit.”

[ an; hey so let me know if you guys like this facefuck and aizawa mmm yum yum si or no ]

[nyao-mi]

NOT MY ASTARION BRAIN ROT CONTINUING CUS LIKE i just got the scene where he literally says he misses seeing his face and that like he wishes he knew what he looked like and i??? WANTED SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE AN OPTION TO DRAW HIM

LIKE IMAGINE STARING AT HIM ACROSS THE BONFIRE, watching the way the light dances across his pale skin. youve been through hard times and one of the things you've learned to get through it was to draw

at first, you loathed the fact that you had to paint rich people for mere couple pieces of gold when you knew your art was worth more than that. you loathed even more that they'd upturn their posh noses at you and scoff when, truly, they knew what a treasure your art was.

now, seeing astarion, the way his white hair seemed to almost form a halo around his head, reflecting the moonbeams that graced his body, watching as he crossed his legs and meditated; you knew that you didn't regret a single second of the trials and tribulations that led you to this point.

you could finally put this agonizing skill to use. you could draw him.

and so you scrounged up some paper, an ink well, a quill; all things you'd pocketed during your adventures with the rather willful vampire.

you sat there, nib of the quill scratching against the parchment.

your art was nothing compared to the paintings you'd done before; these were mere lines and ink blots. you wished you could truly show him how beautiful he was through water color or pastels. instead, trapped in a land you barely knew, all you could do for him was this.

he had his eyes closed, of course, so you drew them from memory. strikingly red, like rubies, like blood. you didn't forget his crow's feet; you loved the way they wrinkled when he laughed. you shaped his lips, soft but rough from years of bite and chew, and formed it into his infamous mischievous grin.

his hair always seemed unruly but, drawing it now, it felt like drawing gorgeous chaos; there was an order to it, the way the bangs fell across his forehead, the way the sides feathered in front of his ears and curled behind them.

when you stopped, you realised you'd drawn him over and over, across several pieces of parchment.

the way he frowned and his fangs would glance across his lips. the way he'd look confused and his eyebrows would furrow. the way he'd look longingly at the stars, mind distant and eyes almost empty, like he'd made so many wishes that were never granted by the cosmos.

you never liked tooting your own horn but you felt like you truly captured him.

so, you took your pieces of paper, all drawings of him, dozens of them, small and sketchy; you took it all and you sat beside him and spread them out in front of you.

it took him a second to realise you were there. he'd been letting his guard down recently, especially when you were on watch duty, and it took you laying your head across his shoulder for his eyes to flutter open.

he opened his mouth, like there had almost been a retort slipping off his tongue, but the sight of your drawings stopped him.

he let out a ragged breath, eyes flickering across all of them. his clawed hands hovered in the air, trembling, as if taking a hold of the drawings would make them crumble under his touch.

and perhaps, in his head, he really believed they would.

'darling,' he'd call you, his voice wet with unshed tears 'what's all of this?'

of course he'd still joke. it was how he coped with things. he joked to hide how he truly felt and, of course, you were always there to understand.

'it's you,' you answered a matter-of-factly, as if you hadn't just turned this vampires world upside down 'its you the way i see you.'

and that's what makes him crack. because maybe, since you were the one that drew all of it, you hadn't noticed. but he noticed.

he noticed all the love and devotion you spilled across the page. every single detail, every single stroke, it was all from love.

and as someone who had never been on the receiving end of it, astarion cracked and he hid his face into your neck and he cried.

they were soft sobs, almost unnoticeable. but he cried nonetheless.

he cried for his past that he'd lost under his sadistic master, he cried for his difficult present that seemed impossible to escape, and he cried for this hopeful future you seemed to lay out in front of him.

he cried because he didn't realise that he had this much hope left inside of him. because he didn't know what else to do in the face of your devotion.

you just sat there, humming and rubbing his back, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around your waist, claws digging into your skin as if you'd disappear in front of him if he didn't hold on to you as tightly as possible.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋdie for you.ᡣ𐭩

after an attempt on your life, the royal family turns to promising young blood, hoping to find someone to protect you. katsuki was chosen and ended up dedicating himself to you in a way even he never predicted.

✩pair. knight!katsuki x princess!reader tags. fem!reader, royalty, no quirk au, swords, violence, pet names, reader is referred to as she/her, fighting, fluff, happy ending, wc. 7k

✩note. this is like really old, i decided to let it graduate from draft jail while i work on the otherr

A sword at your throat. the familiar weight of your crown on your head.

that's all that you processed before it faded to black.

who knew a walk in the garden would be so dangerous? the attempts on your life were growing more frequent by the day, the recent tensions between your kingdom and the villages surrounding it just fueling the violence.

of course, this, much like the other three attempts in the past week hadn't worked. the witches and wizards around you successfully poisoning the man holding you and killing him instantly.

it barely shook you anymore, the feeling of waking up in your bed safe and sound after being threatened. perhaps you were getting too used to the sensation of being in danger.

but this didn't help you in the case of your mother, who worried, and rightfully so. they had called you into the grand courts the next morning, giving you a day of reprieve before letting you in on the plans.

“[name].” your father, the king spoke. his eyes looking sorrowfully down at you, as if he pitied you. “we will be searching for new crowns guard members and keeping you under full time surveillance from now on. these attempts are

becoming more and more common, and you have no means of defending yourself.”

you sighed, crossing your arms. “i don't have any say in this? being under constant watch is disgraceful.”

“my dear, it is only what's necessary! i argued over this in your stead for days, but with these recent attempts.. it is what needs to be done.” your mother pleaded with you.

a moment of silence passed over, thoughts flowing like a waterfall through your mind. knowing she had the final word, you bowed in mock agreement. “i give you my full permission to do whatever needs to be done.”

“very well then, fetch me the fresh blood.” the king barked. “only the best, i want a good bunch weeded out before the trials.”

at this, the consultants bowed and rushed out to the villages. the trip to the village was almost an hour away, and people working for the royals were not very favored at this moment because of the strained relationship. the horses led them to the villages, the sound of their stomps the first evidence of the new arrival's presence in the town.

katsuki, who had been sharpening his swords outside, was the first of the young men in the village to see the royal carriages arrive. with a glare, he waltzed over to the central square, where many others had already gathered.

“i apologize for the intrusion!” a man, wearing silks worth more than a house stood, speaking quite loudly. “we have job opportunities for any young soldiers in training! if you pass the king’s trial, your family will be greatly compensated. any willing to enter, please,” he stepped over to gesture to the carriage with empty spots. “gather your belongings and settle into the carriage before sundown. thank you!”

katsuki scoffed, looking over at the other imbeciles who thought this would be their big break. did he care for royals at all? no. but this would be a way to climb to the top. a way to become a big name. so, he'd go.

he walked right back to his mother's store, a tailoring business, and starting packing. “i'm leaving.” he announced to her and his father, a satchel packed and swung around his arm as he looked nonchalantly.

his mother only waved a hand. “go do whatever you'd like, but don't die.”

his father, with a tearful expression, wished him good luck with a smile. “you'll do amazing son.. though i don't know where exactly you're going. you've always been destined for greatness.”

“of course i am. don't fail the business in my absence.” he turned and walked out of the only home he'd ever known, to go and see what these royals were all about.

he was sat next to a lot of the village boys he'd grown up with, a bunch of them must have lost hope, because the numbers dwindled down severely. with a smack of a whip, the horses began to move, guiding the now twelve men to the kingdom.

the estate was even more huge up close, the golden sunlight from the fleeing sun making the castle seem all the more impressive. even katsuki couldn't help but voice his opinion, muttering under his breath, “wow.”

they were dropped off in front of the main door of the castle, leading to the main chamber. the twelve nervously walked in, greeted by the sight of the king’s piercing eyes, and the queen's grateful smile.

“is this all who came then?” the king said, his voice bellowing throughout the castle. at a man’s nod, he began to address the villagers.

“you all, i offer my thanks for your participation. recently, multiple uprisings have been taking place in different villages. ones that have threatened my daughter’s life. we've done our best to keep this out of the news, so most of you have not heard of this before, correct?”

the boys all nodded, surprised at the revelation that the princess might have been killed.

“the reason why i sent out for you, is because i want not only a personal guard for my daughter, but a crowns guard protecting the perimeters of the castle. all of you, for even arriving here, will be getting paid handsomely.

but, to ensure only the best is personally assigned for my daughter, you will all be dueling right now.”

surprised gasps echo and bounce off the walls, none of them were prepared, but katsuki was determined to win even in this odd situation.

“you may be forced to fight in the middle of the night or the middle of a garden, being ready at all times is key for a successful knight. if you fall to the floor you lose, this is an all out battle, so do what you must to win.”

the queen personally handed out training swords made of wood to each of them, making them all bow in thanks. even katsuki felt honored in a way, the queen’s presence the very essence of royal.

they all assumed fighting stances. since there were no rules other than to stay up, it meant they'd need to be aware of all possible threats from any direction.

“begin.”

katsuki went in with guns blazing, knocking a man to the floor instantly. others charged at him at the same time, so with a timed dodge he made them collide, then eliminated them simultaneously.

it was obvious that the king had been taken by katsuki. his eyes locked onto him, small commentary between the queen and him as they examined the way he fought, his fighting style brute yet calculated.

there was now only three left, the weaker of the men being taken out the fight in a flash. katsuki let them take the first move, them naturally charging at eachother because of their proximity.

with a smart move, katsuki knocked them over as they were on the offense, kicking the other’s lower body to knock them over.

applause rang out through the court, servants and consults clapping for him. even the king and queen gave him their respects. katsuki could only smirk, he really was destined for greatness.

“it's decided then, you my lad, will be assigned to my daughter’s detail tomorrow morning. tell me your name.”

he pointed his sword at the king, making the servants appear applauded at his audacity. “katsuki bakugo. don't you forget it.”

the king could only let out a hearty laugh. “i don't think i could bakugo. as for the rest of you, you all fought valiantly. you will all be assigned your positions tomorrow by the head of the knights. bakugo, follow that young lady over there. you will sleep in only our best chambers.”

he smirked victoriously as he followed the older servant, his satchel in her grasp. with a polite smile, she walked with him down the hallways. he decided to question her about this princess, wondering if she'd be stuck up. “hey, lady.” he asked, making the girl jump.

“ah.. yes?”

“this princess of yours, how's she act? stuck-up?” he questioned, noting the way the servant’s eyes seem to get offended for her. “no, no! i've worked for many princesses you see, and she's been the most gracious one i've had the pleasure of serving.” he nodded to signal he was listening, as she continued.

“she has her moments of frustration, but never takes it out on her staff. she's a very kind princess, the future of this kingdom is safe in her arms. that's what i believe young man.” the lady finished, stilling in front of a large door. “this is where you'll be staying, the princess herself stays in the room across the hallway. from when she wakes up you will need to be there, so get some sleep.”

she opened the door, revealing a huge bedroom the size of his shop. the bed weaved of silk and linen, pillows feathery soft, a gorgeous window offering a view of the moon. there was even an area dedicated to just weaponry, not to mention his own private bathroom. he felt speechless as he was left alone there, the clothes he wore feeling unfit for this new environment.

he fell asleep pondering this new life of his. wondering if this was going to be worth the headache of being at some princesses hand and feet.

he was woken up by the same old lady, embarrassed of how deep of a slumber he'd been in. those sheets were heavenly, he'd have to get some for his parents back home.

he was given royal clothing, the cloth feeling light and refreshing on his skin. a purple band around his arm signifying his connection to you. as he put his sword on his back, he walked over to the room across his. he knocked on the door and waited.

the sight that greeted him made him think he had died and went to heaven. the old lady had never mentioned just how gorgeous you were, the silk night robe clinging to your figure in all the right ways, your face still dreamy from being half-asleep, your hair slightly messy from how you slept on it.

“hello?” you said, your hands holding the door open while eyeing the handsome knight outside your room. he was very clearly eyeing you, you'd be flattered if you weren't so sleepy. “are you my new knight?”

those words finally snapped him back into reality. “um.. yes. yes i am. im bakugo.” he replied, standing tall and at attention now. “oh, okay. come in bakugo. i'm [name].” you stuck your hand out for him to shake, but he had to bite back the urge to kiss it.

he didn't know why he was panicking so bad, this had never happened before. he had known several gorgeous women back in town, ones that had even come on to him, but you were on a different league to them.

he had always laughed and joked about those knights who'd willingly lay their lives down for a princess, but he'd never understood them more then when he was just in your presence.

he shook your hand tightly, before letting go and just standing awkwardly. “i don't really.. know what to do.” he said honestly. “you don't have to watch me all day, just don't leave me alone. i think.” you said before going back to lay on your bed. “i don't have any meetings or stuff today so, i can give you a tour around here if you want? i don't feel like just doing nothing all day.”

“anything you want princess.” the words had slipped out his mouth before he could process it. he'd smack his hand over his mouth if he could, but he didn't want to embarrass himself further. you didn't seem to notice his turmoil though, stretching and walking over to your bathroom. “okay, that settles it then. you can lay on my bed while you wait for me bakugo.”

you changed into a casual everyday dress, choosing the one with the easiest corset to tie yourself. basic makeup and hairstyle aside, you walked out ready to take him around.

after styling your hair, you grabbed his hand off where he was sat on the bed. “let's go!”

you were going to be the death of him.

your words were barely processed as he was enthralled by the sight of you. your mouth was moving yet he couldn't hear anything more than the sound of his beating heart. your skin was glowing, lips soft and plump, eyes shining and full of intrigue.

his hands grew sweaty, he hoped you didn't notice as you pulled him along with you for the fifteenth time today. you'd finally finished he though, until you revealed you'd only gotten through one floor. you laughed at his distressed expression, and brought him out to the garden instead.

“this is my favorite spot.” you admitted, taking him to farthest side of the garden where you could get a view of the village. his village. “i wish i could visit, it seems so.. inviting, you know?”

“that's where i live.” he pointed to the house on the edge of the village, although it was small from his perspective, he could recognize the cloths laying outside from miles away. “my family owns that shop, i practiced outside there everyday.”

your eyes grew wide, smiling at the news. “really? that was you? i always saw someone running around there.”

he flushed, he'd never realized he'd had an audience. especially not a royal one. “youre not lying right?”

“of course not. people watching is all i really do out here, besides almost get killed you know?”

“huh.. those are two very interesting hobbies.” you smacked his arm playfully. he decided to keep telling you about the village. pointing out the villages, explaining what happens inside, telling you about his daily life back there.

he felt your eyes on him the entire time, though thankfully he was starting to get more used to your presence.

they had brought dinner out for the two of you, the spread being larger than katsuki ever had in his dreams. the amount of meats, salads, cheeses, and wines on the table would've lasted his family for months he thinks.

“choose whatever you'd like bakugo.” you invited. he nodded and started to eat, you did too. most of the items went uneaten though, you two getting full before even eating half of it.

“it's okay, they'll save this so don't feel bad.” you assured, taking his hand a final time. “i'm kind of sleepy though so, i'm gonna head to bed.” he followed you back to your room, feeling like a boyfriend leaving his girlfriend at her home when you left him with a, “goodnight bakugo.”

the next day was one where he actually had to work. sitting around your bed as the servants surrounded you, tightening the corset around you, doing your hair, and finishing off with your makeup. he followed you and your entourage as they led you to the meeting room.

he stood by your chair as various other royals came up to you and your family. he was surprised at the utter lack of awareness they seemed to have, asking for large sums of money and help with no embarrassment.

'aren't rich people supposed to be fancy? why do they ask for things more than the poor?’ he pondered, looking down at you and your bored expression.

for some reason, the topic of your hand in marriage was a recurring topic whenever the foreign royals didn't seem to get far. they'd talk about you like some object, a prize to be won.

all you'd do was yawn in boredom your father denying every request that day. no wonder everyone wanted to murder you.

a knife was flung at you faster than anyone could process, the only sound was the unsheathing of katsuki's sword in response. he was now in front of you, the knife in his hand as the guards swarmed the royal who had attacked you.

the king and queen looked at him in respect, as you did in awe.

that happened a lot more over the months, you and him grew closer and closer, but any public meeting where your attendance was needed would be a hotspot for potential attempts.

you had started to grow enamored with him too, his name slowly changing to a more familiar “katsuki.” his presence being by your side even when it wasn't required, you would test the bounds of his physical affection more. the sight of you two hugging as you read was not a strange one anymore, in fact it was preferred for the both of you.

he used to only had seen you as a stepping stone for his success, a rock in the bridge for his assent to victory. but as he held you in his arms, hearts in his pupils as he doted over you silently, he knew he was too far gone.

late night talks turned into affection shared between you. forbidden kisses and pleasures untold as you held eachother through the night.

his room began to dust, his bed going unused as he'd be with you eternally. it became an armory more than anything, as whenever he'd finish up any business he'd find himself running back to your side. he wished to live eternally there.

he was in his room once, disrobing after spending another day with you. he was lost in thought, before he heard you scream. he ran out, sword unsheathed, eyes rabid and wide as he saw the tip of a sword pressed against your neck, blood dripping down as the offender held you as a shield.

“you're a villager too aren't you? don't you realize with the death of the princess the kingdom will surely fall?” the man spoke, deepening the sword into your throat as katsuki gripped the hilt of his so hard he thought it'd snap. “i am a villager. im a villager at heart and in soul. but killing someone without any affinity other than blood is purely idiotic.”

the man scoffed, throwing you to the floor and making you groan. his boot pressed onto your back as his sword hung over your vital organs. “i see. you choose to be a dog.

even so, if you do behead me here it will achieve nothing. we want change, change that cannot be achieved without th–”

“shut up.” katsuki swung his sword through the heart of the man. “don't look up [name].” he directed, before throwing the man out of your window where he had broken in from. he watched as he fell to the ground, the blood of his body painting the pristine white roses red. he closed the window, closing the blinds just for precaution. you were looking at him, eyes wide and white with fear. your hands shaking

he looked at you, an expression in your eyes you couldn't place. the hilt of his now bloodied sword was still tight in his hands, until he let it drop to the floor.

he held his arms out, letting you crash into him and confide in his protection.

you sobbed in his arms, this attempt was different, it was calculated. you were all alone, and scared. he stitched your neck up, the blood spilling all over your dress as you whimpered in pain. you didn't want to be left alone now, not ever again. katsuki didn't leave your side though, he slept with you through the night. being there when you woke up.

he held you through the morning, no words leaving his lips. your eyes were swollen from crying, you face buried deep in his chest. he had a thoughtful expression on his face as he caressed you, suddenly pulling you out the bed with a determined look on his face. “trust me.” was all he uttered before leaving the room.

he dragged you down to speak with your father in the morning, he decided he was going to voice his opinions whether you liked it or not. “katsuki no! my father hates being questioned, please listen!”

as you begged him not to, he pulled you along like a ragdoll. “we have to do this princess, it's for your sake and mine.”

that silenced you for the rest of the walk, he didn't have to pull you as harshly now, walking beside you with your hand tightly gripped in his still.

you finally made it to the king's quarters, where he looked surprised at the sudden intrusion. “bakugo, [name], what are you two doing here?”

“why not just change the kingdom and appease the people instead of letting your daughter get hurt over and over? her neck had to be stitched together yesterday, and a man's corpse is rotting outside her bushes.” katsuki ranted, finally letting his inner turmoil's out.

“it's not your job to question me. silence now.”

“i don't think i will be silent, king. you'd rather let your daughter potentially die than give a bit of money to the poor? you hear out so many royals, so many failures of your rich society, yet you can't give an audience to the people who've built your wealth?”

silence loomed over the room, you'd never seen your father so angry. he bitterly laughed, clapping his hands. “so passionate, i knew you village peasants were interesting.”

“father, don't speak of them li–”

“silence. both of you.. since you believe that my kingdom isn't up to your standards.. do you realize that you are committing treason?”

your eyes and katsuki's shot up, you stood in front of him and started to plead. “father no! he was trying to protect me!”

“i know what is best for this situation. [name], leave the room. now.” the king ordered. you looked to katsuki for a brief moment, begging him silently to remain cordial, before waiting outside the door.

“come here boy.” he ordered to katsuki, making him walk closer hesitantly. the king started to speak with a smirk on his face.

“i will not be changing the way my kingdom was built solely because a couple peasants are starving to death.”

katsuki’s eyes widened, he continued. “my kingdom was built on this bloodshed, this suffering. a paradise where all are equal is just a fantasy, besides,

i can always have more children if she dies, i'd just prefer for my wife to not be upset at her death.”

katsuki felt nauseous as the king grew a sick smile on his face. “i like you. i see myself in you. i will give you two options lad. one: leave and do not utter a word to her, go far away and speak nothing of this. or two: i can strike you down right now and act as if you threatened me first.

how about it, peasant?”

katsuki packed up his things silently. ignoring your questions, the heaving of your chest as you begged him to stay. the tears staining your dress, the fear he knew would strike you at every moment.

you had turned him around, forcing him to look at you. to look at those eyes filled with tears just for him, the stitched up scar on your neck, the feeling of your hands pulling his. “katsuki.. why– why are you doing this? did he say something to you?” you hiccuped. “just answer me! please!”

the only safe response he could give you? none at all. he ripped his hands out of yours, breaking both your heart and his as he did so.

he walked away from you, not looking back as he entered the carriage that'd take him to a village, from where he'd have to walk a bit further.

he tried not to think of you, but how could he not when he saw you in everything? in the golden sun that served to mock him, in the grass that flowed freely in the winds, in the flowers that sprung from the ground.

he could never leave you behind. not your memory.. and not you yourself. as he sat in a tavern, drinking his sorrows away with the purple band clutched in his hand, he overheard a group of men speaking.

“so we do it next week, we have to kill the king.” they whispered, cloaks hung over their heads as they pointed out locations on a map. he was walking over before he even realized it, the group staring at him as he examined the map. he thinks it was just his liquid courage, or maybe it was just the desperation to go see you again.

“this is all wrong. the castle isn't laid out like this.” he muttered, grabbing a marker and starting to correct it. “hey– what are you doing man?” a red-haired man spoke.

“i'm fixing your map. you wanna kill the king right? i do too.”

“oh, awesome man!” he cheered. “sit next to us random guy.” he patted the seat next to him as katsuki sat down, finishing up the changes on the map.

“how do you know all this stuff?” a red and white haired man spoke, eyeing him curiously. “i was a knight until yesterday.”

this made them all gasp. “well.. guess that means you'd know it the best then, huh?” a green haired one spoke, “we really want to do this right so, help us with our strateg–”

“you can't kill the princess. that's my condition.” the group of five collectively eyed each other in confusion. ��uh.. that's fine i guess. weren't really planning on it.” a yellow haired guy replied, “but we just want the king down. if you wanna keep her safe that'll be your job then random guy.”

“bakugo.”

this prompted them to go around the table introducing themselves. kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya, and shinsou. they had a mix of magic and manpower. but the only way they'd pull this off would be with immense planning. well, them anyways. he only had one goal: to save you.

the plan was for him to go to your quarters and escape with you while they caught the king by surprise. they'd need to cast spells and put the guards to sleep, the only blood they wanted to shed would be the king himself’s.

katsuki sighed. they had a week to prepare, but he didn't know what he'd do for that week away from you. he fell asleep to the thought of you, training vigorously for the chance to apologize. to take you with him, to build a life with you if you'd grace him with it.

to take you to meet his parents, his village. to show you how life entails, what it could be for the two of you:

during the day he'd train, detailing the schedule of not only the king but the servants around, the guard’s hours in full. he'd slash trees and bang rocks in anger and frustration over the cards you two had been dealt.

at night he'd ponder what to say to you. how to approach you, how to confess what had happened. how to convince you to leave with him, leave your life of luxury for one of uncertainty. a lifetime of uncertainty just to live with him.

the more he pondered the more he'd groan in frustration, which would make kirishima smack him on the head with a pillow. “go to sleep.”

he'd grunt and fall asleep to the moon, the same one you'd be looking at too.

you hadn't been faring well since he left. your days consisting of crying and screaming. you didn't leave your room, you didn't attend meetings or your classes. you didn't go to your spot in the gardens, the sight of the village mocking you, knowing he was so close yet so far.

he had rejected you. he probably hated you, the words from the man who wanted to kill you had stuck in his mind and now he was disgusted by royalty such as yourself.

your handmaids approached you with the caution you'd give to a baby, talking to you as if you were on the verge of a breakdown every second, which you were.

you hated that you'd let him into your life so easily, how much he held over your heart. you hated your feelings for him and how safe he made you feel.

what you hated the most was that you didn't hate him at all, you realized as you stared at the haunting moon, not knowing he was looking at it while thinking of you too.

days passed and it was time. they had spent the previous day traveling, bribing some horse traders to let them in through the gate. they all wore cloaks and had magic that would allow them to communicate throughout the kingdom together.

they all split up, katsuki by himself as he fled to your section of the kingdom. they all fled to surround the king.

not like he cared for that old man. all he wanted was to see you.

he noted how they hadn't bothered to clean the blood spilled on the rose beds under your window, the window that he started to climb. he hung on the windowsill as he peeked in to see you, with bloodshot eyes holding yourself. you looked as if you hadn't slept right in days, a look of paranoia over you.

he knocked on the window making you jump. at the sight of.. him with a cloak on? you scurried over, opening the window as he hopped in. “[name], i uh.. i came back for you.”

“why did you leave me in the first place katsuki?” you looked despaired, your hands clenched into fists as you stared at him.

“i.. i don't have much time. and i didn't have much time then. but i need you to come with me [name].”

“what?”

“we need to leave this place. you can't be here for a couple days and i can protect you. please [name].” he bowed down to you, pleading for you to just trust him though he didn't deserve it. the communication magic was setting off rapidly, they had made contact with the king already.

“get up katsuki, just– i'll go okay?” you said, helping him up. “but you're gonna explain everything.”

“right.” he helped you pack a bag full of essentials for you, helped you change into a dress that allowed for more mobility. he helped you down the window, holding you tight as you fled down the castle walls. he even let you keep your crowns and jewelry, your rings and things you'd loved from your birthdays.

you'd boarded the stowaway carriage, waiting for his ‘partners’ to get back. he neglected to tell you they were here to murder your father, the king, but from the spell tugging in his head he knew.

it was a success.

you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, cuddled up to him, snoring slightly. he held your hand as he held you close, you were so knocked out even the yells of happiness from the rebel group didn't wake you. they escaped into the night, kaminari and kirishima teasing katsuki about his relationship with you.

“no wonder you wanted to save her so bad, you're in love with the princess.”

“we can officiate your wedding man! as long as you don't want actual papers–”

“shut up.”

the rest of the ride was filled with that mockery, the rebels filled with excitement of what would become of the kingdom. the king was dead, the queen and princess were missing. well, the princess was safe and sound by katsuki’s side in actuality, but it's not like the townsmen knew that.

you woke up to the feeling of being carried, it was already dawn, the sun had begun to awake. katsuki was carrying you to a house of some sort. your arms wrapped around his neck, your eyes half lidded from sleep. “morning 'suki.” slipped from your lips as you yawned.

he looked down at you with a small smile. “good morning [name], we have uh-.. things to talk about. a lot of things.” he was nervous, you could tell from his tone. he set you down on a bed before sitting beside you, holding your hand.

“so, would you like the good news or the bad news first?” he asked you, avoiding eye contact. “bad news? what bad news?” you questioned, examining both him and yourself for injury. “well, your father is dead and your family has been dethroned.” he said quickly, not allowing for pause.

your eyes shot up in surprise, and just as quickly.. you.. yawned?

you weren't having much as a reaction as he planned for, he planned to have to beg you to stay, console you as you screamed out in terror, but you looked almost unimpressed. “i mean.. he had it coming. he treated everyone horribly, i hope mother is alright though.” you muttered. “anyways, the good news?”

he was flabbergasted to say the least, but he continued. “uh.. yeah. since he died the villagers usurped the throne, destroying the royal structure of the land.”

“can i keep my crown?"

“sure you can.”

“then it's okay with me.”

“oh..”

“is something wrong..?”

“nope, uh. thats all.”

“so, can we explore the village today?”

“yes, yes we can.”

he took you everywhere he imagined in his dreams. you got along with his mother, surprisingly. fitting in like a missing puzzle piece into his life.

wealth had spread throughout the lands, everyone prospering as the people had elected for a people run government.

you'd adjusted surprisingly well. your huge gowns had become modest smaller ones, your jewelry now gone and replaced with leather bands. you'd had to do chores now, jokingly complaining but honestly learning to like the mundane aspects of life.

with your knight at your side, now devoted to you in not only soul but heart, you knew everything would go perfectly.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @hiimsaraaandyou @amayaaaxx

@i-the-fluffo @uy242c @irenne-stans

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[bluetimeombre]

🀥 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

He's not your Logan, but you wish he was.

[I have so many Logan drafts I have to publish, oh no…. While I’m working on p2 of the Hugh Jackman and Ladypool I made this. It’s my first real attempt at smut and I cringed so bad.]

Warnings: death, grief, smut, dirty talk, language, oral (f! Receiving) penetration sex, not proof read

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The events of Logan:

When you'd seen Logan running through the field, soaking up more bullets than sweat, you knew it was going to be tough to save him. You knew it might even have been impossible but god you were going to fucking try. Even if he didn't want you to.

You'd gone with the kids, with Laura to keep them safe, but you hadn't thought you'd have to keep Logan safe to.

And you tried to. You tried so hard with your limited strength and ability, but it wasn't enough, not when you and Laura watched as his clone threw him into a fall tree, the other end poking out his bloody chest.

You screamed. You think you screamed. The only thing you knew for sure was that you took the adamantium bullet and shot it through the clone's head.

'Logan,' you stood over him. He was staring up at you, pale and watching your every move. 'No.'

Laura was at his other side and behind him. She started to hack away at the tree, until Logan groaned and slowly slid to the ground.

You grabbed him, gently settling him down as Laura joined your side. 'No, please.' You grabbed his hand and held it tight enough for them both.

His fingers gripped yours with the only strength he had left as his eyes cast to the girl. She was crying, tears down her cheeks as she whimpered. She looked down at his wounds, almost as if she was trying to find a way out. Even your hands were already soaking up his blood. 'Don't be what they made you,' he whispered. 'Laura... Laura.'

She sniffed and watched his lips slowly move to say her name. 'Daddy...'

His breath was short and shallow but even then he managed a small smile. His fingers around your hand became weaker as his eyes lifted to look you over. His smile remained and his eyes that had been filled with such pain and exhaustion filled with... love. They looked over you as if taking in every last detail. 'Look... look after our daughter.'

You cried, sobbing, holding his hand to your chest so he could feel the heart that only beat for him. 'I- I love you.'

His eyes softened, his lips forming words you could barely hear. His hold on your hand ended. 'Ah, so... so this is what it feels like.'

The smile on Logan's face fell and his eyes would stare at you forever. He was gone. The love of your life. Your best friend. Everything. Dead. It was over like that. His life span of years over in the snap of a finger.

'Logan?' you cried, brushing your fingers through his short grey hair.

Laura cried. 'No. No. Daddy?'

You fell back on your heels, hanging your head as tears hit the earth under you. The weight of their grief was enough to shake the earth.

Laura's small hand crawled up to claim the one that wasn't desperately clinging onto Logan's. She tucked herself into your side, her head resting on your chest. Finally, you brought your head up and rested it atop hers, your tears soaking her hair.

'Look after our daughter,' and you would. With your whole life.

The events of Deadpool and Wolverine:

'Who-who brought us here, anyway?' asked Deadpool.

'That would be us.'

Everyone turned, including Logan, as a girl- a young woman really, walked out from the shadows. There was another behind her, but they lingered back, staying closer to the dark and leaning on the doorframe.

Laura made herself visible to them all, stopping in front of Deadpool. 'Don't make us regret it.'

'Holy shit,' he said. 'Logan that's her, that's X-23.'

Logan watched the girl for a moment as he took a gulp of the bottle. The girl's eyes assessed him back, as if she had some of her own judgement. He didn't have anything to say to her- he didn't know her. But Logan caught whiff of someone else, a scent so familiar to him but having only been kept with him in a dream.

'Wait, who's that?' Deadpool looked to the figure.

Laura looked back, smiling at her.

Logan almost dropped the bottle as you walked down. You hadn't aged a day. You were just the same as the last day he'd seen you, that day he'd walked away and lost everything. It was your body he found last, surrounded by the children you had been protecting. Your ring, the ring he had given you, bloody.

'Y/N!' Deadpool gasped. 'No way! Holy shit! I didn't think you'd gotten any of my calls. Can I just say- woah. Logan, look who it is!' he boasted.

Logan was still looking at you. You didn't think he could ever look away, but neither could you. You weren't each other's, but you looked it.

'Oh yea, there's some tension here,' said Deadpool. 'How did you even end up here?'

'Our universes were dying and the TVA knew we wouldn't be going quietly, so they sent us here,' you said, walking down the last steps and busing yourself around the room, anything not to look at that Wolverine that wasn't yours.

But you glanced at him, you told yourself just once and he was still looking at you. Looking between you and Laura. Your Logan's last words replayed in your head. 'Look after our daughter.' and you had. Though it hadn't gotten you anywhere. Only to the void.

'The answer is yes, I'm in,' said Deadpool.

'In what?' asked Blade.

'The team. Me- you. You- me, all of us. All of us together, getting the hell out of this place.'

'Don't listen to him, he's a fucking lair!' Logan snapped.

'It was an educated wish!' he corrected.

'Ha!' Logan barked, taking a drink of the whiskey. He caught your eyes and thought better of it. He thought of the times the two of you would sneak to the kitchen to get a beer when you first met each other, how- once the two of you stayed in the same room- he'd never leave your side, even for a drink. Instead, he'd hold you tighter and just watch.

Deadpool, somehow, talked you all into a team up. You thought that's what was happening, frankly, you were distracted watching Logan.

'Hey,' Laura approached you quietly while everyone else spoke. 'You ok?'

'Yeah, yeah, i'm fine,' you assure her, brushing her hair back. 'You?'

Laura glanced back to him. 'I don't know yet.'

'Oh, Johnny must have loved you. X-23, what's it gonna be?' Asked Deadpool.

'The name's Laura,' she corrected him, looking from you to the room. 'Let's fucking go.'

'Let's fucking go.'

'You're all fucking dead,' said Loga.

'My god, read the room.

That night, before your big takedown, Logan took to sitting around the fire.

You and Laura watched for a good ten minutes, trying to come to terms with the father, the lover, you both lost.

'He looks just like him,' said Laura.

'I know,' you agreed. 'But it's not him.'

She looked up to you. 'What if, it could be?'

You didn't want to think of it or believe it. The only thing keeping you from him was the memory of your Logan's blood over yourself. 'It can't,' you told her. For a moment, the both of you continued watching, until Laura walked away from you. Toward him. 'Laura, Laura!'

He must have heard you calling as he glanced over to see her. 'No, no, no, i'm not looking for company, get outta here, kid.'

'You remind me of him,' she said, settling on the other end of the log. 'Angry, drunk, mean-'

'Sounds like a great guy,'

'I wasn't finished,' she said.

You were close enough to hear and you chuckled, watching the two. She was no more than ten the last time they saw each other, she could barley speak to him with all her words in English. It was their first chance to speak.

'He showed up when it mattered the most, couldn't help it. You might not know it, but you're a good man, Logan,' she told him.

'You might not know it but apparently i'm the worst Logan,' he said.

You lowered your head, holding onto the tree.

'I got to have a life because of you. And Y/N. But I got to grow up, because of you. A lot of kids did.'

Logan looked into the fire. 'A lot of kids didn't grow up because of me,' he was thinking about it again. Your body, the kids bodies around you. The blood. The ring. 'Trust me kid, i'm no hero.'

'That suit says different.'

He hummed and looked down at it. 'Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean, Storm, Beast. All of them. Y/N. Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn't. Told them they all look fuckin' ridiculous. I couldn't have them thinking I wanted to be there. Kept saying i'd leave, I only stuck around for Y/N,' he watched the fire. You watched him. 'Then one day I did. I left and the human's decided to go mutant hunting.'

'I can guess the rest,' said Laura.

Logan shook his head. 'No, no, let me say it- I- I need to say it. By the time i'd stumbled home shit-faced from the bar it was too late. They were dead- they were... and the suits all I got to remind me of who they were. What I did.' He took a gulp of his bottle and tried to forget.

You turned from them, thinking of how he lost you in his universe and how you lost him in yours. Both of you couldn't do anything to save it. Perhaps, you were destined never to live happily. You let him and Laura say their farewells in peace before she walked by you, offering you a small side hug.

'Is it your turn, bub?' Logan called to you. 'You gonna give me a speech?'

Cautiously, you stepped closer until you could see the tears in his eyes and the sweat on his brows. 'You never really listened to the speeches.'

He scoffed as you sat where Laura had, if not a bit closer. You couldn't help it. 'And you were never really the sort to give them,' he said, looking to you. His face froze when he caught sight of you. You wondered if he was thinking how similar you looked to her, because all you could think was how close he looked to him. 'You're not my, Y/N.'

'And you're not my Logan.'

You sat in silence for what could have been hours before Logan offered you the bottle. You took it and gulped down more than you should've. You coughed, practically shoving it back to his hands. 'God, I never knew how you drank that.'

He chuckled. 'I know.'

Perhaps not completely different.

'Wade says I died for her, that kid,' he said.

'Laura.' You smiled. 'You were dying anyway. Giving yourself up to protect the kids and her, is probably just a way to speed up the process.' You were taken back to that moment like it was a dream, the blood, his eyes, his last words.

He shook his head. 'If you're Logan was any Logan, then he'd never have voluntarily let you go.'

The two of you met each others gaze.

'I just wanted to make him happy,' you said. 'In the end, I couldn't even do that.'

'You made us happy,' said Logan. 'I'm sorry, about what happened to your Logan.'

'And i'm sorry about your Y'N.'

The after:

You were dying. At least, you thought you were. You could've sworn you were in the void. But then, the TVA turned up again (you may or may not have put up a fight when they put their hands on you and Laura) and whisked you away to another universe.

'Welcome to Wade's world,' said the murk with the mouth, opening the door to you and Laura.

'That's not the trade mark, right?' you asked.

Laura laughed and walked in, joining the party.

Wade had pulled a few strings to get you and Laura back to his world to be with his Logan. It was a work in progress, sort of what the whole party was for. A dozen of his friends were invited just to get you and Logan in the same room together. Everyone was in on it, he suspected even Logan knew what he was doing but he didn't oppose.

Instead, Logan dressed some what good for the evening and planned to try to get to know Laura and to see you as you and not once his.

Wade ushered you through the room. 'There's drinks, food, cocaine cause disney's not here anymore, oh and-'

Logan set the dog- dogpool- into Laura's arms and headed to you. This was his que. 'Hey, bub.'

'Hi.'

The two of you silently stared at each other while Wade watched like a giddy school girl before he found Vanessa in the corner of his eyes and rushed to her.

‘You’re here,’ Logan noted.

You nodded. ‘So are you. You’re out of the suit.’

‘Yeah,’ he looked down at his outfit.

‘You always looked good in plaid,’ you said.

Logan looked up at you through his lashes. ‘Yeah?’

You nodded, lips forming a tight line.

After some more awkward small talk, everyone set down for pizza. You and Laura were introduced to the large group, making talk with them all- some you recognised, others you didn’t.

Laura sat between you and Logan, like a true child with her parents. You were just happy to watch her interact with him, sipping a beer as Logan smiled and chatted happily. He’d changed. His face lit up and he didn’t look like your Logan, but a happy one. It was a rare thing. ‘Oh, I’m gonna get the dog!’ She slipped from her seat, forcing you and Logan to acknowledge each other.

He nodded to the bottle in your hand. ‘Want another?’

‘I’m good.’

He nodded, finishing the rest of his. ‘She’s a good kid,’ he said.

You glanced back at Laura who was chasing the dog around. ‘Yeah, she is.’

Logan smiled at you. ‘You did good.’

Those three simple words seemed to tip the tension over the edge. It was all you’d needed to hear, Logan, telling you you were doing good with his last wish. Your eyes tears up, your hands shook.

You cleared your throat and pushed your chair back. ‘Sorry, need some air.’ While everyone chatted you slipped up from the table and out the front door- Logan watching you go, startling out of his own chair.

Wade turned to him. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ he couldn’t wait any longer and followed you out.

He couldn’t see you when he stepped out the building and panic set into his bones. He sniffed the air and followed the trail down the side of the building where you leaned on the wall, your back to him.

He said the suit was all he had, but on his dog tags, hiddin under, was your ring. The last thing he had to remind him of you.

You heard movement and whipped around to see him. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s ok, bub.’

‘It’s just-'

‘I know,’ he said, holding up a hand.

You lean your back on the wall, taking him in as he stepped closer slowly. ‘You know i have nothing to remember him by. Not a suit. Not a picture. Even his dog tags were buried with him- or not anymore after what Wade did. Now, there isn’t even a grave. He exists only in here, in memory,’ you tapped your head. ‘And then you came and you’re just like him. Like a slap in the face.’

Logan nodded, listening and knowing the feeling. Every time he looked at you there was a twisting feeling in his gut, dread and desire mixing in the worst ways. ‘I told Laura that the suit was all I had to remember them by, but that wasn’t true.’

He stood before you and pulled at the chain around his neck. Dangling at the end were the familiar dog tags you knew and loved so much, between them a band of something else, branded with a diamond.

‘This was hers. Or yours, in my world. I’d given it to you a year before … the accident. Knew I loved you. Knew I needed you always. But I was still terrified, I’d never let you know that of course. This was all I had to remind me that you loved me.’

With enough time for him to tell you to stop, you reached out to the chain, looking at the ring.

‘You have good taste.’

He smirked. ‘Scott helped.’

You chuckle and gently set it back on his chest.

Logan took your hand, holding it, his thumb soothing over the back. ‘I know I’m not your Logan, but I want to be. I want you to be my Y/N.’

You knew the feeling. The hold he had on your hand, the only one to hold your hand since was Laura and even then, she carried a piece of him in her. Memories weren’t the only thing you had left of him- you had her. Your daughter.

Logan took one more calculated step toward you until the toes of your boots were pressed together. He held your other hand, pressing them between your bodies. ‘I want this, and so do you,’ his voice came out low, breaths like pants. He hadn’t been close to anyone in so long, it made sense the only one he’d return to was you.

You met his eyes and your resolve washed away like the ocean. You pulled your hands away from his to grab the side of his face and kiss him.

It was a slow movement of lips as you both got familiar with the taste of each other after all these years before his tongue licked over your bottom lip and you moaned into him.

Logan’s tongue swept in and the kiss became desperate. His hands fell on either side of you on the wall as you pulled him into cage you against the bricks. You barley pulled away for breath, like any space would kill you both.

You hands crept around until they were in his hair and tugging.

Logan bit down on your bottom lip before trailing down your jaw to your neck and biting down, groaning at the taste of your skin.

‘Logan,’ you gasped, rocking your body into his until you could feel the tent in his pants.

‘I need you, bub,’ he said into your neck, nuzzling his face there and licking and biting until you were bruised.

‘Baby,’ you trail a free hand down his chest until you grasped the outline of his heavy cock. He groaned and nipped harder.

‘Where are you- where are you staying?’

‘Hotel,’ you mutter in his ear, biting down in his earlobe.

‘Call a taxi.’

You pulled back enough to see his face, his expression drunk on you.

‘What about Laura?’

‘She can stay with uncle Wade!’ Called a voice from above. The two of you looked up to see Wade hanging out the window, looking down at the two of you. ‘We’ll have a girly night, let you guys get at it like rabbits in heat!’

Logan sneered. ‘Fucking jokes.’

Laura appeared next to Wade, poking her head out. As if indecent, Logan pressed his body into yours and you held onto his shoulders. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay with Wade!’

You sigh, knowing you’d regret keeping her with Wade but regret letting go of Logan even more.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The two of you were like teenagers. Like being in love for the first time all over again. Your hands remained hovering over his crotch throughout the taxi ride and his lips never left you alone.

You walked through the lobby with some dignity but by the time the doors of the elevator slid shut, he had you pinned to the wall and was sliding a huge thigh between your legs and letting you grind yourself on it.

You just had to have a room on the top floor. At some point, an elderly couple joined you and Logan pulled away just in time. He kept a firm grip on your hand and you dragged him out as soon as you arrived at your floor.

You fumbled with the key card and threw it somewhere else as soon as you got in the room.

Logan growled and kissed you, tongue parting your lips and teeth nipping. His hands grabbed your thighs and hoisted you until you were wrapped around his body like a kola on a tree. His hands moved around until they cupped your ass and moved you to grind into him.

You moaned into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip as he made his way toward the bed.

He dropped you down as you bounced on the mattress. Looking over you, he made quick work at pulling his shirt over his head as you opened your legs, inviting him in. ‘Desperate, bub?’

You nodded, biting down on your lips.

What a sinful look. He moaned just at the sight of you before dropping to his knees.

You fumbled with your jeans, undoing them quickly and shifting your hips until Logan pulled them down and threw them behind him.

His hands were just as rough as your Logan and just as large as they climbed up your legs, his lips following suit. With every dent his fingers made his lips kissed until he was hovering over you me panties, damp and waiting. ‘Oh, poor cunt hasn’t been treated in a while, has she?’ He whined, looking up to you from between your thighs.

You watched his tongue dart out to swipe across you hidden pussy before falling back on the bed in pleasure. He’d barley touched you and yet you were a mess, wiling to beg and do anything for him. For any part of him. ‘Logan, please.’

‘I will bub, I will,’ he smirked, inching closer and closer. ‘But we have all the time in the world.’

He blew against your clit and begun to make out with the dampness of your pussy. His tongue only made it more wet, going between farting out and taking long strokes.

‘Logan,’ you pulled at his hair, trying to get him closer.

He hooked a finger through your panties and pulled them aside, burying himself in there.

The moans you emoted were pornographic as he took long strokes with his tongue, teasing you as his tongue repeatedly nudged your clit.

‘Fuck!’ You moaned, holding a hand to your mouth.

Logan looked up, saw this and grasped your wrist, pinning it to your stomach. He pulled away. ‘I will fucking stop and let you do the job if you dare think about shutting up,’ his voice was rasp and it sent a shiver through you. ‘I want you to scream, sweetheart.’

He spread your folds and feasted like a man starved. He had been. He’d forgotten things about you, the depth of your laugh or the twinkle in your eyes. The way your body vibrates and the way you taste. Now, he was willing to work days and nights to get it all back.

Your thighs trembled, caging around his head.

Logan laughed against your pussy. ‘You want to keep me here, baby? Want me to suffocate between your thighs?’ He didn’t even try and pull away. He grabbed your thigh with one hand and with his other, he slid a finger into your.

Your hands gripped the bed sheets. ‘Logan, I’m..’

He groaned, moving his hips against the sheets. He wouldn’t last long and he knew it, but he wanted you on your face before he came inside of you. ‘You’re so tight baby, did other Logan not treat you right? The way you deserve.’

You muled, unable to do anything else but squeeze your eyes shut and feel your high approach.

Logan laughed. ‘He didn’t stretch you out enough, did he baby?’ He slid in another finger and rested his head back on your thigh, keeping watch on you with dark eyes. ‘If it were me, I’d have fucked this cunt every day. Made it fit for me and only me. Have it crying out for me all day and every day.’

‘Logan, I’m gonna cum,’ you gasp.

He darts his tongue out and flicks your clit and scissors his fingers until you moan out, trying to lift your hips as you come all over him.

Logan doesn’t waste a second to lick you up. His tongue cleaning you softly as his fingers trace circles in your thighs. ‘So good for me, fuck, you taste like your mine.’

‘I’m yours,’ you utter.

Logan looks up at you, backing away from your legs. Your all over his lips, his tongue, his mind. He thought his dick couldn’t get harder but it strained heavy against his trousers. ‘All mine, hey bub?’

You put yourself in your elbows and look down at him. ‘All yours, Logan.’

He leapt upon you like an animal, flattening you to the bed with all his weight on top of you. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he pulled away enough to rip your shirt in two, bra following.

He squeezed your tits, rolling one nipple between his fingers and taking the other between his teeth.

You panted under him, that familiar ache climbing up your body as you ground your damp panties into him.

Once you’d undone his belt, Logan tugged them off, freeing his cock.

‘Good to see all Logan’s go commando,’ you tease.

He smirks. ‘Only for you, bub.’

He trails kisses between your tits, trailing all the way down your stomach before he found your panties again. He pulled them down agonising slowly with his teeth, your body awakening in shivers at the touch.

Once you were both left bare, he took his cock, pumping it and looking at you withering body, awaiting him.

‘You want my cock, sweetheart? Want it inside of you?’

‘Please.’

‘Were you always sweet for your old man?’ He asked, slowly sinking lower, this tip of his cock feeling your heat. ‘Did you tease him? Were you a good girl for him?’

‘Yes!’ You whine.

He laughed at your desperation.

‘You gonna be good and take it like my Y/N?’ As he asks, he slips the tip between your folds and moans out, throwing his head back as you bite down on your lip, whimpering. ‘Oh fuck, bub. Shit. Too good for me.’

You grasp at his back, trying to pull him in more.

He tutted. ‘That’s not very patient of you, thought you were gonna be good.’ He wanted to tease, wanted to spend the rest of the night getting familiar with you again, but fuck did you feel so good swallowing up the tip of his cock.

‘I’ll be good, Logan.’

‘Fuck, yea you will, bub,’ he slides in further, gripping the base of his cock to guide himself in. ‘Fuck.’

The two of you are silent, gasping and groaning as he tries to fit himself all in. Your legs are spread and you clutch onto his shoulders.

When he’s half way, he pulls back only to slide in faster, deeper. He repeats, muttering under his breath. ‘Fuck, fuck, shit Y/N.’

‘Logan,’ you moan.

‘I love hearing you say my name,’ he groaned, dropping a kiss to your shoulder as he moved in and out of you. He sped up, gripping you ass to hoist you up and reach in deeper.

You moan loud enough to shake the walls.

‘That’s right. Taking me- fuck- taking me just like you always have, he grunted, looking down at you. Looking down at where he disappeared inside of you, to know it was real.

You grabbed his shoulders, urging you over him as he thrusted in at an un-relenting pace. His chain of dog tags and the ring dangled in your face and you let your tongue out so he could dip the cool metal on your tongue.

Logan moaned and stilled, grabbing your hips. ‘Want you to ride me, bub.’

With a smirk, you tossed yourselves over until Logan was spread out on the bed and you could sink all the way down on his cock. You did it faster than he’d expected, just to see his eyes roll to the back of his head.

His grip on your hips remained tight enough to bruise, but he let you set the pace.

You dreaded yourself on his chest and started slow, agonisingly slow. Enough to torment him.

‘Bub,’ he growled.

You smirked and started to bounce, started to move quicker, throwing your ass against him every time.

The bed rocked on the wall and his growls were animalistic. The rocking of the bed became in time with the slap of his balls against you ass.

‘Keep going bub, I’m gonna cum,’ he said.

‘Cum inside of me,’ you pant, sweat causing the baby hairs to stick to you.

He looked in your eyes, his cock twitching inside of you. ‘Yea? Want me to fill you up, huh?’

You nodded, chasing that familiar buzz in your gut.

‘Bet your Logan didn’t fill you up to the brim. Not as much as you deserve, you deserve it all. Don’t you baby, say it!’

‘I deserve it all,’ you utter. ‘Logan I’m-‘

Logan groaned and he lurched up, gripping your body close to his as he came inside of you, his seed coating your walls as yours ran down his cock to the base. He bit down on your shoulder, twitching as he held you both.

Once you’d both recovered, gently, he rolled you over until you were back in bed and he was still inside of you.

You watched him, marking every bit of him in your memory.

Logan saw this and cradled your head. ‘I’m not going anywhere bub, and neither are you.’

He kissed you sweetly, taking his time to steal your breath and feel your lips. Tasting like home.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

When you next woke, with the sun up, you felt a heavy arm draped over you and an even heavier body practically on-top of you, caging you to the bed. He was warm, smelled like whiskey and sex.

Logan. Now your Logan, back in your arms

Memories of last night came back to you in fragments like a dream. You fingers brushed through his hair. There were a couple bruises littered around his neck but you were sure there were more on yours.

‘Mornin’ he grumbled, burying himself closer to you.

‘Indeed.’ Said a voice.

Your head shots up as Laura sits in a chair across from the bed, arms folded over her chest and smirking at the two of you. It was lucky Logan’s body covered yours, but all your clothes were still scattered everywhere and the quilt just about hung over Logan’s backside.

He hardly blinked, ‘hey kid.’

You fell back on the bed and for the first time in years, you laughed.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

[inkedinshadows]

A Place Called Home

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Follow Azriel as he recalls all the places where he's lived but never belonged, until he finds the one where he finally does.

Warnings: a bit of Inner Circle slander, I guess? But not really tbh. Mentions of wing clipping

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I don't know what I think of this one tbh. It's not exactly what I had in mind, but I've made my peace with it. @azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had never belonged in his father's mansion. He never once believed he did. But he didn't belong in Illyria, either.

Though he was Illyrian, he always disapproved of their backward traditions, especially regarding females.

He had seen how his mother was treated; he knew what had happened to Cassian’s, and too many times during his training in Windhaven, he had to witness brutal clippings without being able to stop them.

How could he belong in such a place? A place where females were treated as little more than objects and breeding mares, where children were taught to fight as soon as they could walk and left to care for themselves in the mud and cold?

He had done horrible things—most of which to protect his family and court—and they still haunted him in his sleep at times. But he liked to think that he was at least better than the Illyrian brutes he had grown up among. That there were certain lines even he wouldn't cross.

Illyria was a beautiful land, with its snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes. It could be merciless and harsh, but that was nature. Its inhabitants, however, chose to be that way, and Azriel had long since lost faith in any change.

~~~~~~

He didn't belong in Rosehall, either.

He was always welcome there and visited as often as he could, but that was his mother’s house. He had bought it for her as soon as he had enough money.

It was her safe place, her haven, where she didn't have to worry about anything and where she wasn't anyone's servant. Azriel remembered the tears shining in her eyes the first time he brought her there, when the house was still empty and cold.

It had taken him a long time to convince her that she didn't need to worry about money. He worked directly for the High Lord now, and he was paid well enough for her to furnish the house however she liked.

She had still tried not to spend too much, but she had chosen each piece of furniture and decoration with attentive care. It was the first time she had a place she could call her own after centuries of living, and Azriel liked what she had done with it. The place was simple yet elegant, with cream-colored walls and wooden furniture. Colorful flowers bloomed on the windowsills, and paintings hung in the hallway and the living room. She had even made sure to have a bedroom for him, so he could stay as long as he wished.

But Azriel's favorite part of Rosehall was probably the delicious smell of food wafting through the rooms. Now that she no longer had to cook for domineering males, she had rediscovered her passion for cooking. Whether it was spices, freshly baked bread, or roasted meat, the smell never failed to make his mouth water.

Yes, Azriel enjoyed his time in Rosehall and tried to visit as often as he could, but it was still his mother’s house—not his.

~~~~~~

He belonged in the Inner Circle, he guessed. Though sometimes he felt like he didn't.

Azriel cared about Amren; after all, he had known her for centuries. But it was still Amren. How many times had it been just the two of them, spending time like normal friends? Once, maybe twice, and even then, their conversations had mostly revolved around Court matters. Sometimes he wondered if they would have ever approached each other at all if it hadn't been for Rhys bringing them together.

And then there was Mor. He had spent centuries quietly loving her, longing for something he could never have. He had long since stopped believing that her concerned glances and gentle touches meant anything beyond deep affection—sisterly affection. Yet he'd held on to those feelings even when they started to fade, because he had never known anything different. It was a twisted form of both protection and punishment: if he still loved her, then he wouldn't risk his heart being broken by another rejection. Yet knowing Mor would never feel the same, that she had her own lovers and relationships, was like being stabbed in the chest. He wasn't sure when it started to hurt a little less each time he thought about it.

With that pain easing, the resentment he'd carried buried deep down for most of his life began to fade as well. He never once held it against Cassian. He knew it wasn't his fault Mor had chosen him. Who would have chosen Azriel anyway? He wished things were different, but he didn't blame either of them. It still chafed, though. It was something he couldn't shake, like a shadow lingered on the edges of his heart, and it resurfaced whenever he saw Mor and Cassian together.

And his brother… Azriel loved him deeply, and he was grateful to have him in his life. But there was no denying how different they were, and sometimes it felt as if Cassian didn't really understand him. There was a rage inside Azriel, rarely rising to the surface but it was there, born the moment he'd seen his mother's fear in the presence of his father. That rage never left. It grew until Azriel had to learn how to contain it, to live with it, for the sake of the people around him and his own.

Cassian never really understood it. Rhys did, though. Azriel knew that if he pushed, Rhysand would match him. Yet his brother still tried to thaw and tame that icy rage he had grown so accustomed to, which was probably an honorable aim—if Azriel hadn't lived with it so long that he wasn't sure who he would be without it.

He loved his family deeply, and he knew they loved him back. But they didn't always understand him, and he often felt out of place among them.

~~~~~~

Velaris was his home, and he'd do anything to protect it. He tortured and killed for that very reason many times. But at the end of the day, the City of Starlight was just that—a city. No matter how beautiful or welcoming, it was too vast a place to call home.

He had never bothered buying an apartment or a town house for himself. Maybe he should have. But the House of Wind had always been enough, with its views and endless rooms. It was practical living there—there was the training ring, the hall where Rhys held court, and the library for when he wanted some quiet.

But the House of Wind belonged to Rhys. Now that he had given it as a mating present to Nesta and Cassian, it was theirs. They assured him he could still live there, that his room would always be his, but Azriel had preferred to move out. He had no interest in living there during their mating frenzy.

The townhouse and the river house belonged, once again, to Rhys and Feyre. They never made him feel like he owed them anything for staying there—Elain lived there too, after all—but Azriel longed for a place he could call his own. Yet the idea of buying an apartment had still felt too definitive. He had tried, but none of the places he'd seen made him want to own them.

He had almost given up hope of finding a place he could call home, but then he met you. And he realized, after five hundred years, that maybe home wasn't a place at all.

“Az?”

Your voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present, to the feel of you in his arms and your big eyes staring up at him.

“Baby, are you listening to me?”

Azriel blinked, slightly shaking his head to chase away the remnants of his past. He looked down at you, and his heart fluttered at the love shining in your eyes.

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. Your hand came up to cup his face, the touch warm and familiar. “I lost you. Where did you go?”

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I was just thinking.”

You waited patiently, giving him the freedom to continue or return to your conversion. Embarrassment flooded Azriel as he realized he couldn't remember what you were talking about.

He held you imperceptibly tighter, trying to find the right words to convey what he felt.

“I never felt like I fit in anywhere,” he said eventually. His voice was quiet even in the silence of the room, and he struggled to keep his eyes open when all he wanted to do was lean into your touch. “I've been looking for where I belong for centuries.”

It came easy to voice those thoughts to you. You never judged. You listened, and then you gave your opinion or simply shared your own thoughts. You saw all of him, and you didn't run from it. You accepted him. You loved him.

Sometimes, Azriel still wondered if it was all a dream or if you were really a part of his life.

“And have you found it?” you murmured, your thumb brushing his cheek just below his eye.

Azriel nodded. “I found it.” He took your hand, gently removing it from his face to bring it closer to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to your palm, his lips lingering on your skin before he repeated the gesture with your fingertips. Your smile was soft as he murmured, “I found you.”

Your eyes, which had been following the movements of his lips, shot up to meet his. Even after a year together, he was still mesmerized by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. It was so easy to read you, and right now, blended with your unconditional love, he could see curiosity and amusement playing on your features.

“Me?” you repeated, your voice a murmur.

Azriel nodded once more, letting go of your hand only to bring his own up to your cheek. “Yes, you, my love.” He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. “It doesn’t matter where we are. You’re where I belong. You’re my home.”

Wherever you went, he would follow. If you woke up one day and told him you wanted to move to the Spring Court, or even to Vallahan far east on the continent, he would go with you. He would go with you to the end of the world if you asked.

He could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and a playful smile appeared on your lips as you pulled back to look into his eyes. “So… is this the right moment to tell you that I wanted to ask you to move in?”

Azriel stared at you, eyes wide, a huge grin slowly spreading across his face. His arms tightened around you, and then you squealed in surprise as his hands found your backside and he picked you up. The sound was quickly swallowed by his lips crashing against yours, and you could do nothing but kiss him back and wrap your legs around his waist, careful not to brush against his wings.

You were both breathing slightly faster when Azriel pulled back, but he didn’t let you go. If anything, he held you tighter, as if worried you might disappear.

“I’ll take it that’s a yes?” you chuckled. Your fingers brushed the hair on the back of his neck, his wings rustling quietly at the sensation.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Of course it’s a yes, love.”

He didn’t care if your apartment wasn’t suited for an Illyrian, if he had to carefully maneuver his wings to avoid knocking things over. He had already spent so much time at your place that he was used to it by now. The thought of staying there permanently—of waking up with you in his arms every morning, of coming back after a long day knowing you’d be there too—filled him with so much joy that his heart could burst.

You beamed, and all Azriel wanted to do was to spin you around and never let you go. And so, he did, because nothing was stopping him. He was going to share a home with his love, and nothing had ever made him this happy before.

As he spun you around, you threw your head back and laughed joyfully, the sound echoing off the walls. Azriel’s laughter joined yours when he stilled, and then you were kissing him again.

After more than five hundred years, he finally knew where he belonged. And it wasn’t a place.

It was with you.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[no-144444]

Meetings from the past- l.sargeant (no.2)

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summary: logan and you reconnect after a few years apart.

pairing: logan sargeant (no.2) x fem! singer! reader

song is 'circus' by brittney spears :)

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Logan walked into yet another party with his head held low, knowing this was one of his lasts with f1. It sucked, knowing that he was leaving. But he was going to indycar, and that was something, right? Prema was good, right? He just felt so… used. He hadn’t even been given a chance to prove himself in f1. He hadn’t even been given a proper goodbye by his shitty team. 

“Who’s she?” Lando leaned in to Oscar beside him. Logan looked up to see who he was talking about, and there you were. Dancing in the middle of the party like no one was watching, but everyone had their eyes on you. You were fucking gorgeous, at least that’s what Logan thought. 

“That’s Y/n,” Oscar chuckled. “She’s Hattie’s friend, we grew up together.”

Beside you was Oscar’s sister Hattie and Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend. You were all dancing along to the music being played far too loud in the club, singing along. 

“That’s Y/n?” Logan gawked. Being friends with Oscar he’d met you when you two were kids and grew up together. He’d had a crush on you since he was about 12 years old. “How long has it been?” You two hadn't spoken in years, but you stayed in each others comment section and offered support when it was needed.

“Too long,” Oscar laughed as Lily spotted him and ran up to the group, hugging him. "You should talk to her."

"Like that went well the last time," he scoffed, downing more of his beer. The last time you two had spoken face to face, you'd been breaking up. You were both sobbing crying, just hugging each other, and you kept apologising, wishing it hadn't worked out the way it did.

--------------

"This isn't fair," you frowned, wiping your tears on the sleeve of your hoodie. "This is shit."

Logan chuckled, this sad, half-hiccup, half-sob noise and he sighed. "I fucking love you so much."

You fell into his arms like you'd done so many times before, and you cried against each other for a good hour on his front porch.

"I would give up singing if it meant that we could be together forever," you whispered. Maybe it was silly, and you were only 18, but you knew Logan was your person. He was your everything.

"Don't say that," he cooed, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head. "I love hearing you sing for me."

"I love singing for you," you looked up and pressed a kiss to his cheek as the taxi rolled up beside his house. He watched as you left, both of you crying as you walked away from the greatest thing you'd ever lost.

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Hattie followed Lily, dragging you behind her as you complained about wanting to dance more. Hattie pulled a little too hard and you fell forward, straight into Logan. 

“Fuck!” you squealed as he grabbed you, keeping you upright. You looked up, only to be met with the eyes of the guy you’d liked since you were 12, and your first boyfriend. “Logan?!”

“Y/n,” he smiled. He didn’t drop his hands and you both just stared at each other for a few seconds. Then the song changed, some 2000’s song he remembered hearing too often as a teenager, and your smile widened. “Follow me Sarge,” you chuckled, pulling him onto the dancefloor. Logan Sargeant was not a dancer by any means. He wasn’t one to take the spotlight either. 

He didn’t complain about it when it meant you had your hands all over him, and he got to put his hands on you. 

You two were 15 when you got together, and you broke up when you two were 18. 3 years was a long time in teenage years, and you were both crushed, but you were going on tour for the first time, and he was always too busy with racing. You two didn’t talk, or see each other, so you called it quits. There was always love there, you’d always love each other, but it just didn’t work.

“How have you been?” you asked as you danced together. “I’m sorry about Williams.”

He shrugged, pulling you closer. “I’m going to indycar, it’s not like my life is over.”

You smirked. “Exactly,” you spun in his arms.

As the night progressed and you two spent some more time together, you fell into an easy flow of conversation. Spending time with Logan always made you feel at-ease. He was your comfort person. You huddled into his side as you stood outside the bar, trying to keep under the awning as the rain poured.

"Not ideal weather for a race, huh?" you smiled, trying to kill the silence that had fallen on you two in recent moments.

Logan sighed. "I guess not."

"Well, you've always excelled in the wet," you winked as you lit a cigarette and he laughed.

You stayed silent for a moment, all too aware of the way he was staring at you.

“You still think about us?”

You weren’t one to beat around the bush, he admired that. 

He chuckled. “Sometimes,” he shrugged. 

Your eyes widened. “Me too! All the time!” You stamped out your cigarette, your voice excited and bright.

He stopped moving, stopped breathing. “Oh yeah?”

How he was keeping it cool was beyond him. He’d wanted you to say that for his entire adult life. 

You nodded slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Still love you.”

He could’ve fainted. Going out tonight was the best idea Oscar had ever had. “Good,” he smiled, his heart beating out of his chest. “‘Cause I still love you too.”

Your smile widened. “So kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

-------------- When he woke up the next morning, he had a pretty bitching hangover, but also your number, so he wasn’t that upset. Last night had been exactly what he needed, you were exactly what he needed. Someone fun, someone free, and someone completely uninterested in racing. Don’t get me wrong, you liked it, and you watched it, but you didn’t give a shit about the championship or how Logan was doing. You loved Logan, not Logan Sargeant, f1 driver. You’d always been like that. Unconditional.

Then he remembered about the kiss outside the bar, because his mom, your mom, Oscar, Oscar's mom, Lily, Hattie, Alex, Lily, and you were all texting him at the same time, as well as hundreds of thousands of messages from every social media platform.

liked by: pierregasly, oscarpiastri, landonorris, logansargeant

comments

user89: hey so this is insane.

user62: WHY HER AND NOT ME????

-> user69: have u seen her? THAT'S why.

user38: LOGAN LIKED?????

y/ny/l/n: @ logansargeant rue, when was this?

-> logansargeant: 🤷🤷🤷🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: damn I wanted to do it again 🤷

-> logansargeant: YES PLEASE I LOVE YOU

liked by y/ny/l/n

-> landonorris: WTAF U TWO MET LAST NIGHT???

-> oscarpiastri: nah they dated throughout their teenage years

-> logansargeant: exactly, lando no-rizz

user45: WTF HOW DID WE NOT KNOW???

user12: power couple fr

user90: what did he do to deserve THE it girl of the century?

-> logansargeant: no idea 🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: big dick and big heart 🤷

-> yourbff: EWWWWW KEEP IT TO YOURSELF

comments:

logansargeant: photo creds?

-> y/ny/l/n: my virginity back?

-> logansargeant: MY virginity back?

-> y/ny/l/n: touché

comments are disabled.

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Four months on from the bar, you two were still going strong and you were happier than ever. He was doing better mentally, and in races. He'd somehow gotten a Williams up into p6 in quali, and got p5 as a result. When he got out of the car, he ran straight to you and kissed you in front of everyone. It was amazing.

Sadly, Logan's last f1 season finally came to an end in Abu Dhabi, where he fought hard and got his first podium. P2. You'd never been so proud. He stood up there, proving that he wasn't a failure, to himself, and to the world. You'd cried so hard as you watched in the paddock, screaming with joy as he won his first f1 podium.

That night, you two retired to your hotel room, both exhausted.

"You were amazing," you yawned, curling into his chest.

"Well, you're my good luck charm," he chuckled. "You have to be at my first Indycar race-"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," you promised him. Logan meant everything to you. You were everything to him.

comments:

alexalbon: missing you already man 😭😭😭

-> logansargeant: me too 😭

maxverstappen: you're going to go far in Indycar mate 👍

oscarpiastri: missing you brother :(

-> logansargeant: missing you too :(

danielriccardo: onto bigger and better things brother 🫶

logansargeant: god, you’re so hot. @ y/ny/l/n 🤤

-> y/ny/l/n: so are u 🤤

[akutasoda]

some nights you dance with tears in your eyes

synopsis - they catch you crying after not seeing you all day

includes - albedo, baizhu, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvilette

warnings - gn!reader, angst to confront, breakdowns?, wc - 1.4k

a/n: guys i promise working on requests, this has just been sat in my drafts for way too long-

albedo ★↷

it wasn't entirely uncommon for him to leave for dragonspine and not return for a while, but he always made sure to let you know. albedo would make sure you saw him the morning he left, and he would make sure to not leave without giving you a hug and a kiss goodbye - he may not understand human emotions but he knew it made you happy.

you had come to accept his absences and understood how much his work meant to him. sometimes you'd even accompany him for a short while up there! but no matter what, you always eagerly anticipated his return after whatever amount of time. however, now more than ever, you wished him home even more.

work had been piling and piling, your luck turned sour and everything seemed to be crashing down on you. returning home to an empty house everyday didn't help either. eventually, it became too much for you.

one night you'd reached your breaking point. you tried to push everything to the back of your mind and convince yourself that tomorrow would be better, but you couldn't. as soon as you reached the privacy of your home, you broke down.

unbeknownst to you, albedo had arrived home earlier. he eagerly awaited seeing you again but assumed that you probably would be asleep by the time he got back, so he let himself in. once inside, there was no way he could've missed the heartbreaking noise of sobs.

naturally, he assumed it was you and his chalk heart shattered. albedo called out for you until he found you and he swore he would have cried himself at the sight of you crying. at first he rushed to bring you into his embrace, but he was hesitant, what if you wanted space?

but by the way you brokenly called his name changed his decision. he brought you into his embrace and held you tight as he let you cry your heart out.

baizhu ★↷

it was no surprise that bubu pharmacy could keep him extremely busy. he tried his hardest to try and keep a healthy balance but sometimes he could really be rushed off his feet. especially if he has an early start, like he did today.

a patient required quite the urgent attention early in the morning and so you didn't wake up alongside him like usual. you were tad bit disappointed that you wouldn't see him for awhile but you understood his circumstances. now you just looked forward to seeing him at the end of the day!

however, now you were just excited for this day to end. there was just so many things that either annoyed you or stressed you out to the point that you finished your day early and headed home. admittedly, you were disappointed to not see baizhu anywhere but you understood that he was busy and hoped he'd finish soon.

by the time that baizhu had finally managed to close the pharmacy for the night, it had gotten rather late. he was exhausted and desperately deprived of your presence, all he wanted to do was see you for the first time since this morning.

what he hadn't expected was to find you crying. immediately he could feel his heartstrings being pulled upon and he called out for you gently, seeing your glossy eyes only made him sadder.

he pulled you into his embrace and held you close. maybe tomorrow he could leave the pharmacy to his assistants while he takes you out for the day.

alhaitham ★↷

his days could vary quite wildy, he could be really busy or not very bust at all. either way he still preferred to keep to himself with a few exclusions - you being one of the main ones. so most days, you'd see him during the day.

however, if you were busy, he'd tend to leave you to it and would often encourage you to focus on your things rather then be distracted by him or anyone else. he'd even go as far as to completely avoid you if you had something really important coming up.

and today was just that. you had an extremely important deadline to hit and so alhaitham decided to give you the space to work properly on it. although, now that seems like the worst thing he could've done.

you're stress was high and everything seemed to be working against you, all you needed was a break but you simply could not find the time to indulge in such. you really hoped that alhaitham would come to distract you but you knew that was a long shot.

eventually, you got home. you were absolutely exhausted emotionally and physically and you needed to find your lover and relax for once. it was rather late at night so you found him propped up in bed reading. you didn't care less however and immediately found your way to collapse onto him.

before he could even question your behavior, he could feel your body practically shake as you finally let out all your emotions. he stayed silent as he placed his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

kaveh ★↷

you both knew very well that kaveh could often overwork himself, especially when he got a pretty good commission. he wouldn't so much as even take a break until it was completed and so sometimes it was difficult to see him during the day.

although he would become extra clingy later at night to make up for the time he could've spent with you - that and he was always reluctant to leave you in the morning if he knew. it was rather sweet, but sometimes he wouldn't be there when you needed him.

so while kaveh was busy fussing over new building plans, you were busy stressing over the amount of things you had to do. you were so close to reaching your breaking point but you'd rather not at the akadeymia and so you tried to hold on until you got home.

admittedly, you were disappointed that kaveh had yet to return home when you fid but you guessed you could just have some time to yourself and relax. although you greatly underestimated just how much the day had taken a toll on you, and before you knew it you were crying.

kaveh was absolutely beat by the time he dragged himself back and he couldn't wait to see you for the first time in ages. however his heart shattered when he saw you crying and he immediately made his way to you.

he took your shaky figure in his arms and held you close. he promised you then that whatever you wanted, he'd do it for you. he just couldn't bear to see you cry anymore.

neuvillette ★↷

the ludex of fontaine was always extremely busy. he tried his hardest to spend his time with you but more often than not, the only time's he could where before and after work. he did feel bad for not spending time with you but he held a lot of responsibility.

you knew better than to disturb him during work, and so you grew accustomed to not seeing him all day. if anything, it only made the time you two had together that much more special! you didn't mind exactly and if he did have the time, he'd let you know.

so when your day was turning horrid, you tried to press on and make it through but it was difficult. you wanted to go find your lover and relax but he was busy. as your day progressed it only became more difficult to continue on without breaking down into little pieces.

as soon as you got home, you tried desperately to calm yourself down and actually take a minute but it was proving inefficient. you knew that neuvilette only had one last trial today, so he should be home soon right?

however, by the time neuvilette actually managed to go home to you, he was greeted by your distraught self. oh how it made his heart ache to see you in such a state. he sat beside you and you immediately clung onto him and so he wrapped his arms arms around you, letting you finally cry.

that night, the rain in fontaine could only be described as torrential. a constant downpour that had citizens begging the hydro dragon to cheer up but how could he? only when he knew you were okay.

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