#I would actually rage quit if they survived | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fxtalitygod · 7 months ago

Text

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

403 notes · View notes

adelliet · 3 days ago

Text

Wolverine x f!reader

SILENT HUNT

Summary: You are running from the FBI, spending days hiding and surviving until you meet a man who helped you and saved your life.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, corn with plot, soft Logan, harassment, age gap (reader in 20s Logan in his 30s), reader is much smaller than Logan, mentions of trauma, hunting animals, light fingering, oral (f!receiving), nicknames (sweetie, princess), unprotected sex ( p i v ), aftercare, praise kink, good~sweet ending

A/n: Hey so um I didn't expect it to be so long 0-0 sorry for that…but I hope you're gonna like it (I'm going insane over this man help)

,,She ran this way!” You heard one of the cops shouting. You knew they were up your ass. Despite your speed, sooner or later they will catch up. You couldn't allow that.

You quickly tried to analyze the environment around you and when your eyes spotted a thick bush, you took advantage of it and quickly hid behind it. You couldn't hide here forever, but you wanted to gain some time to think. Terrified, you looked around, desperately trying to find a place where you could hide longer.

"Where did she go?!" You recognized the bitter male voice. It belonged to one of them, actually to the main guy who destroyed you. Who used you and turned you into the monster you are now. He took away your rights, your dignity, your life. He didn't care that he could've killed you. You were just a lab rat to him who had beneficially succeeded his experiment.

Just his tone made your heart rate rise, your claws were pressing against your knuckles, struggling to break through. You concentrate all your nerves for stopping the mutant DNA inside you bubble to the surface. The rage and hatred for the man was incalculable, but you couldn't attack him. At least, not right now. You just had to wait quietly for him and his entire team to leave.

"Fuck! Find her or I'll cut your throat!" he shouted angrily. Then you heard vehicles and thousands of footsteps finally fading away from you. You were holding your breath the whole time, finally relieving yourself and carefully climbed out from the bush. You did have a clear air, for now. Time was precious at the moment and you decided to use it well. That's why the moment you left your previous hiding spot, you ran after your goal.

Any shack, abandoned building or cabin would be ideal. Well, your wish was granted. You hadn't been running for long before you saw a small wooden cabin in the distance. Your eyes lit up, excited smile forming on your face. There was still a hope.

Running to the door, you weren't even going to waste time knocking. You rush inside and close the door by leaning against it. You throw your head back, trying to calm your breathing, before opening your eyes again.

You were quite surprised. The furniture and everything in the cabin looked exceedingly good. As if someone lived here. You barely took two steps forward and were about to continue exploring, but you were stopped by sharp objects lightly touching your back. "Who are you and what do you want" a rough male voice made your breath stuck in your throat, goosebumps rose all over your body.

You started shaking and you knew if you won't speak asap, you are dead. But your ability to talk was quite interrupted by those really sharp objects pressing on your back. Yet you inhale deeply and tried to answer calmly.

"I need to hide from the FBI..." there was a moment of silence. "They want me" "Why?" You could still feel the knives touching your back, keeping you in a position where you couldn't do anything but answer. "They want my DNA..." again there was a silent pause until the man finally set you free, so you could finally turn around and see his face.

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect this. It was pretty tall man, at least 6 feet tall. You admired his beard and hair, which created a strange illusion of a wild animal. His hands were huge, not only his biceps but also his palms. When he sees your face, his eyes soften. He did not expect this either.

"Why they want your DNA?" he asked with confusion in his voice. Before you manage to say anything, you hear vehicles outside the cabin. Your instincts immediately got the better of you and claws came out of your knuckles in self-defense. Logan pulled back in surprise and looked at you with raised eyebrow.

He had so many questions but this wasn't the time to ask. He knew that. He smelled your fear and saw your terrified eyes, you've been through a lot. Besides, you didn't look like someone who wanted to hurt him. "Go, hide under the bed in that room" he pointed to one of the doors and you wasted no time.

You did as he told you so and waited, your pulse raising again. "Wait until I tell you" he whispered before he closed the door. No sooner had he closed it, than they aggressively knocked with the words "FBI open the door or we break in!”

Your mind was filled with million scenarios and they weren't in a positive light. What if they find you? What if you get caught and you never see day light again? What if they try more experiments on you until you suffer to death? What if they kill you as soon as they see you? These questions spawned in your head as you tried to control your breathing.

"Hello gentlemen, how can I help you?"

"Have you seen this girl?" you quietly listened to their conversation expectantly. "No, why is she missing or someth-"

"That's none of your bussines sir, just answer honestly. Have you seen this girl running through here?" you heard rich laugh as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Are you for real? I haven't seen a single soul in here for couple of years..." your breathing and heart raise was slowly going back to normal speed and rhythm. "Okay, let us check the cabin and we can leave" fuck. Just when you though you won…

“I told you I haven't seen her-" "We have the right to come in sir, now stand back or force will come" You could feel beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. You're done. You weren't ready for it but you had no choice. At least you tried. Hope dies last, how they say…

You quietly awaited your fate and listened to the slow stomping around the cabin. There were only a few seconds left before they will enter the room where you were hiding. "Sir I told you I haven't seen that girl!" that wolf-looking guy kept trying to save you and chase them away before they find you. It was pointless. Not only did they not listen to him, but they just accelerated the search.

There it is.

All that running, all that hiding and all that starving was for nothing. Everything led to only one result, which will now be fulfilled.

The hair on your arms stood on end when you heard a loud creaking of the door. You held your breath as you watched the massive black boots move eerily slowly around the room. Then you heard more faster footsteps, before seeing shoes. They were different, so you recognized that this was your salvation.

"I don't know what you're looking for in here. I've told you several times that I've never seen that girl!" you watched the shoes of both men with frightened eyes. There was a silence for a moment, before you heard the transmitter switch on. "All clear" a weight lift off your heart when you heard those words. You waited still, as you were told to do so.

“Alright, you can come out now” you literally jumped out from under the bed and were completely changed. The scared expression turned to excited and your eyes shone like never before. You felt incredible relief, but mostly you were grateful.

"Thank you so much!" he just nodded and checked you up and down before going somewhere else. You followed him, curious what will happen next.

"So now you're going to tell me why they want your DNA?" he raised his eyebrow as he poured rum into the glass. You watched him for a while, observing his large, big, massive hands until you caught yourself. You cleared your throat akwardly.

“I'm…a successful lab experiment” his face expression still didn't change, letting you know he wanted more. "I was born as a normal person, but these guys took me from my parents and used me as their lab rat. They tried to give me DNA from some mutant" he listened carefully, being very interested in your speech. "The chance of me dying was over 90%, but I survived even with mutant genes. They want to know how it's possible. That's why they want me"

You look down, remembering all the traumatic experiences from the lab. "I know what it's like" You look up at him. "I've been…lab rat too" he looked thoughtfully at his hand before sharp claws came out from his knuckles. You gasped quietly, before squeezing your eyes. "You are Wolverine!" you said in disbelief. He looks at you with furrowed brows. "Am I that famous?" you scoffed and shook your head. "They talked about you a lot in the lab. You were...their insiration"

"Well that isn't that something I should be proud of huh?" he chuckled, joking sarcastically but he had a point. You watched his claws. They were much bigger, sharper than yours. "Adamantium" he got your attention again, watching his claws. "Unbreakable metal. I have it instead of my bones" he slid them back in and looked at your face to finally see your reaction.

"Really? That must've hurt..." "Like hell" he agreed and took a sip. He held out the glass to you. It took you a moment to understand what he wanted. "Oh no thank you, I don't drink" you shake your hand and suck your lips into a thin line. "Good girl" he nodded and instead of placing the glass on the counter, he drank it to the bottom and only then put it down.

"But you also have…these don't you?" he asked you and you nodded. "Yeah but my bones are not made from that metal, only these" you also wanted to flex so you took your claws out. There were only two sharp ones on one hand, but they were enough.

"I see..." he poured another shot of rum into his glass and drank it immediately. You were starting to worry about his livers. "I'm Logan by the way" you smiled, introducing yourself too. He repeated your name to himself, smiling at the way those letters tickle his tongue.

"What about your family, where are they now?" your smile dropped immediately and you looked down again. “I don't know” you whispered darkly, hoping, praying that they are still alive. Logan realized that this was probably an inappropriate question and instantly began to act.

"Anyway, are you hungry?" he opened a fridge and looked around there. Of course you were hungry. You were starving. You couldn't remember the last time you had normal meat, vegetables or fruit. Practically any normal food.

You didn't want to sound annoying tho, but before you could say no, Logan was already taking spaghetti out of the fridge. “These are leftovers from yesterday…I can make more if you want” you wanted to refuse the offer, but the longer you watched and smelled the aromatic smell of meat and tomatoes, saliva started pooling in your mouth. Your stomach rumbled and that was a sign that you had to accept Logan's food.

"Here" he handed you a fork which you quickly grab and started eating like an animal. Logan was surprised, he watched you with raised eyebrows but later, he understood. He was glad he could help you. A warm grin began to form on his face so he quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with something, while he kept an eye on you and checking when you are finished. It wasn't even ten minutes and your plate was empty. Completely empty.

After you wiped your lips and calmed your beast inside you a bit, you thanked and gave Logan a grateful puppy eyes. He smiled a bit and nodded. "Do you want more?" you shake your head even though you wouldn't mind extra portion.

There was an awkward silence for a while. Neither of you knew what to talk about, however both of you were thinking the exact same thing. What will happen next? Will Logan let you stay here or will he kick you out? You were so desperately curious, but too scared to ask.

You decided to use reverse psychology. "I should get going" Logan jerked his head and frowned. "Have you lost your mind?" you look up at him, eyes big and sparkling. "You can't leave, definitely not now" and your trick worked. Your heart warmed when Logan let you stay. He was the first person in a long time to be kind to you. You valued him immensely.

The evening came. You were so tired and looking forward to wrapping yourself in the covers and falling asleep. Logan let you sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch. It must've been really uncomfortable, but he wanted to give you some space.

You evoked something in him that no one had been able to do for a long time. Compassion. You both have a pretty similar past and you've been through hard times, why should he be mean to you? Plus, you looked so innocent, so soft and beautiful. Oh you are beautiful.

The moment you turned around and your eyes met, it was as if time stood still. He felt his heart race, yet everything around him faded into silence. Your gaze held him captive, soft yet intense, as though you could see through every layer of him.

You seemed both familiar and mysterious, like a dream he wanted to keep reliving. And your eyes, there was something about them. So bright, yet with a hidden depth, as if they held secrets you weren't ready to share. Just looking into them left him breathless, his thoughts scattering with each heartbeat.

As he lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Of course, it was only natural that you’d occupy his thoughts; after all, you were a new event in his life. But this was different. He wasn’t just thinking about you in any ordinary way. His thoughts lingered on you in a way that maybe he shouldn’t have allowed.

There was a heat in his chest, a longing he couldn’t shake off. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you near in a way that went beyond the boundaries of mere thoughts. The thought of you, of the way you made him feel, ignited something inside of him…a desire, a craving, that he wasn’t sure how to control.

You weren't much better of.

You could feel it, the connection between you, like an invisible thread tugging at your heart, pulling your thoughts to him. As you lay beneath the blankets, you couldn’t escape the images of him. His face, rugged and intense. His hair, wild and untamed, like the ears of a wolf, a perfect reflection of his untouchable, yet undeniable nature. You could almost smell the mix of rum and cigarettes that clung to him, that scent that was both comforting and dangerously alluring.

But it was his hands, those massive hands, that lingered in your mind the most. They were like a sign of safety, as if Logan could protect you from the world. Even now, surrounded by the softness of the sheets, you couldn’t escape the heat Logan left behind, the longing that burned inside you.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was too consumed with thoughts of Logan. Every time you closed your eyes, his face was there, vivid in your mind. His intense gaze, the roughness of his voice, the way he moved. It was as if he was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard you tried.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around you, but no matter what, sleep didn’t come. It was like your body and mind were in conflict. You were exhausted, but the thought of him wouldn’t let you rest.

Finally, as the hours passed, your thoughts began to blur, the constant tug of his presence softening. Slowly, your breathing slowed, and the weight of the day caught up with you. The last thing you remember was the faintest image of him lingering in your mind before sleep finally claimed you.

You woke with a start, gasping for air, your body drenched in sweat. Your heart raced as the remnants of the nightmare clung to you like a heavy fog. You were back in the lab, the sterile, suffocating air, the cold metal table beneath you, the sharp sting of needles, the hum of machines monitoring your every heartbeat. The doctors—no, they weren’t doctors—had done this to you.

The pain… it was unbearable. You had screamed in your mind, desperate to escape, to survive. But it hadn’t been enough. The dream always ended the same way: your body convulsing, your breath leaving you, your heart stopping. You died there.

And then, as the darkness closed in, your eyes shot open. The scream tore from your throat before you could stop it, raw and terrified. Your body trembled, the terror from the nightmare still alive inside you.

A voice, low and familiar, cut through the panic. “Hey, hey… are you okay?” Logan’s voice, filled with concern, echoed in the quiet of the room. You blinked rapidly, your eyes focusing on him. You were safe. Your were alive. But your mind was still trapped in that place, that nightmare. The pain, the fear… it was all too real.

“Logan…” you breathed, your voice shaking, your body still trembling as his presence grounded you.His brows furrowed as he moved closer, his hand instinctively reaching for your.

He took both your small, trembling hands into his one, massive palm, covering them completely. Logan's rough thumb gently stroked across the back of your hand, the warmth and weight of his touch grounding you, bringing you back from the dark memories of the nightmare.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice low and comforting. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.” He kept his voice calm, his thumb continuing to trace soothing circles as he waited for your breathing to even out. Slowly, you began to calm, your fingers loosening in his grip.

“I… I had a nightmare,” you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes, feeling the remnants of fear still lingering. Logan gave a slight nod, his gaze steady and understanding. “It’s okay. I get those too.” He didn’t press you, just held your hands in his, keeping his presence steady, like an anchor. He stayed there a few moments longer, not moving, until he was sure you were truly alright.

When he finally started to release her hands and stand, her fingers tightened around his. “Wait… would you… stay with me?” You asked, hope and despair could be heard in your throbbing voice.

He glanced at you for a moment, reading the vulnerability in your eyes, and gave a brief nod. “Sure,” he said softly, settling back down by your side. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, as his presence remained close. Gently, he kept your hands in his, his steady, quiet strength surrounding you, until you drifted off again, finally feeling safe.

The sun's rays shone directly into your eyes through the blinds, waking you up. You moved a bit and left a pleased quiet yawn from your lips. You realized you were lying on top of Logan's bare chest, his massive hand resting on your hip. The realization left you in shock for a small moment. After all, it felt comfortable.

The heat from his body warmed yours, his heartbeat was slow in rhythm and you enjoyed listening to it. It was a lovely melody that you wouldn't get tired of.

You slowly looked over at Logan, who was still sleeping. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a bit longer, taking in every detail. The way his profile softened under the light, the relaxed way he held himself, like he belonged nowhere else but right here, right now. Your heart began to race, almost as if you'd just realized something you hadn’t quite let yourself feel before.

There was a flutter deep inside you, a mix of nerves and excitement, tiny, electric sparks that seemed to move from her your to your stomach, filling it with a soft, almost dizzying warmth.

You'd heard people talk about “butterflies,” but until now, you hadn’t understood just how real they were. It was overwhelming but oddly comforting at the same time, like an emotion you'd always wanted to feel but never quite believed you would.

You could barely focus, all your senses drawn toward Logan, wondering if he’d notice how your cheeks were flushed, or if he could sense the way your pulse seemed to echo in your ears. In that moment, everything else faded, and it was just you. Just you, discovering that maybe, just maybe, you were falling for him.

Suddenly, Logan woke up. You quickly closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You wanted to avoid any awkward situation where he might realize you'd been watching him sleep. What kind of creep does that? He’d definitely think you were crazy, and you weren't about to risk that.

He took a deep breath and clumsily looked around. He seemed confused, but you understood why. After a long, deep sleep, it made sense. Once he finally got his bearings, remembering where he was or who he was, he realized the position the two of you were in. He quickly jerked his hand away from your hip. Part of him enjoyed it, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. That was the last thing he wanted.

He yawned loudly, and you took the opportunity to pretend you are waking up too. He looked at you and couldn’t help but smile. Even though it was morning, you still looked so stunning and majestic. You glanced at him and pretended that you had only just realized you were lying on him. Quickly, you pulled away and cleared your throat awkwardly. He chuckled under his breath and stretched his arms.

“Good morning,” he said in his rough morning voice, sending strange waves of pleasure down between your legs. Quietly and shyly, you murmured a good morning back and stretched your back.

“Did you sleep better?” he asked, sitting up so he could at least see half of your face. You nodded, looking at him with a grateful smile. He returned the smile, and when he felt his cheeks starting to warm, he decided to get out of bed. “I’ll go make breakfast,” he added before leaving the room.

You couldn’t shake the lingering scent of Logan, as you lay in bed for a few moments longer. The nightmare had already faded from your mind. You stepped out of the room and made your way to the kitchen, where Logan was at the stove, frying eggs and bacon in a skillet. He looked up at her, did a quick double-take, and smiled. Inside, though, you felt anything but fresh. You felt grimy, sweaty, and were sure your breath wasn’t at its best. “Mind if I use your shower?” You asked softly, your voice shy. Logan nodded and pointed down the hall.

Before you left the room, though, you naturally realized, that your clothes weren't clean either. Feeling a bit nervous, you asked Logan again, “Um, and could I maybe borrow some of your clothes?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he couldn’t say no. “Yeah, I’ve got some shirts in the closet,” he replied, focusing intently on the bacon in the pan without looking at you.

You whispered a soft thank you and went to find something of his to wear. You found a red flannel shirt, and it smelled incredible. You couldn’t resist, taking a deep inhale of the scent was like breathing in Logan himself, a scent so intoxicating it felt like a drug.

Finally, you went to shower, freshen up, and take care of a little hygiene. You tossed your dirty clothes aside and slipped into Logan’s shirt. It hung loosely around you, the hem falling nearly to your thighs and the sleeves draping well past your hands. It felt oversized, almost like a protective blanket, wrapping you in his warmth. His scent, smoky, rugged, with a hint of rum, was woven into the fabric, surrounding you completely.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the warm scent of breakfast led you toward the kitchen. Logan had just finished setting the plates, but when he looked up and saw you in his oversized flannel shirt, he froze.

It was clear it was his, unmistakably his, and seeing you in it stirred something fierce within him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over you, taking in how small you looked wrapped up in his clothes. But it wasn't just that, It was the way it clung to you in places, falling just so across your curves, that drove him wild. The collar hung slightly open, teasing him with glimpses of bare skin, and he found himself aching to close that distance, to run his hands along your waist and pull you close, inhaling that soft scent of yours now mingled with his own.

He swallowed hard, silently praying you couldn’t read his thoughts, because the things running through his mind right then were nowhere near decent. Trying to keep his composure, he gave you a lopsided smile. Get it together, he thought, but it was hopeless. All he could think about was how right it felt to see you in his shirt and how much he was craving for your lips right now.

When Logan finished his breakfast, he pushed back from the table and wiped his mouth. He looked ready to leave, grabbing his jacket and placing his hands on the table, looking resolute, like he planned something.

“Alright, I’m heading out for a hunt. Need to stock up for the week,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

You paused for a moment, then looked up at him. You weren’t sure if that was a good idea. After all, the FBI is still looking for you and who knows if they'll come to search the cabin again. This time Logan won't be there to protect you. But it wasn't just the FBI that worried you. You didn't want to be alone. You didn't want Logan to leave for god knows how long. You wanted to be with him.

“Y-you're going hunting?” you assured, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Yeah,” he replied, already moving toward the door. “Won’t take long. Just need to get an early start.” You didn’t want him to go alone, and you definitely didn’t want to stay behind.

“Can I come with you?” you blurted out quickly to get his attention before he left. Logan slowly turned and looked at you blankly. “I don’t have anything else to do and… I’d like to help. Can you take me with you?”

Logan was surprised. His eyes softened a bit, but he still seemed unsure. He lowered his head slightly, his face unreadable, as he thought it over. You couldn’t tell if he was considering the idea or just trying to decide how to say no.

“This isn’t exactly a leisure trip, you know?” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And it’s not exactly safe. This isn’t the kind of place for someone without experience.”

But there was something in your eyes that made him hesitate. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes for being alone, or maybe you really wanted to learn hunting… Whatever it was, he didn’t dismiss the idea immediately.

“I know it’s not going to be easy,” you replied, looking at him intently. “But I’d feel better going with you…safer.”

Logan looked at you carefully, his gaze softening a little, though his posture was still tense. “Are you sure you can handle it?” You could tell he wasn’t as convinced as he sounded, but your puppy eyes were the last straw for him.

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally relenting. His voice was still serious, but his lips quirked into something like a smile. “Just keep up and don’t slow me down.” You smiled widely, your heart racing a little faster as you stand up from the table, excited.

Logan suddenly raised both hands, holding them in front of him like a stop sign, his expression playful but firm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said with a smirk, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Where exactly do you think you’re going in that outfit?”

His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of seriousness and concern in his gaze. You look down at yourself and realize you were wearing just his shirt and panties. This is probably not a best suit for hunting.

You looked back at Logan apologetically and a little embarrassed. He shook his head amused and went to hand you some pants.

"I hope they fit...I wore them when I was 14" You both giggled and you put the pants on right in front of him. He watched you the whole time and when you were finally dressed formally, you went out.

You walked with Logan into the woods, your eyes darting cautiously to every shadow and rustling leaf. The thought of the FBI lurking around still haunted you, keeping you tense and alert with every step. But gradually, Logan’s mere presence started to ease your nerves, grounding you in a sense of safety. He didn’t need to say anything; just being near him seemed to calm your racing mind.

Then, a sudden snap of a branch echoed through the trees. Without thinking, you moved closer to Logan, pressing against him instinctively. Your heartbeat quickened, and your breath caught in your chest, certain that you were being watched. But Logan, calm and unbothered, scanned the trees and then nodded toward the source of the sound.

“It’s just a squirrel,” he murmured with a small, amused smile.

You exhaled, your shoulders relaxing as you glanced up at him, feeling a little silly but reassured.

You and Logan kept moving deeper into the woods, his steady pace reassuring even as you couldn’t quite shake the edge of tension from earlier. After a while, Logan spotted a deer grazing in the distance. He motioned for you to be quiet, and the two of you slowly crept toward it.

You both took cover behind a bush, and you watched as Logan readied himself to take aim. But something in you hesitated, you couldn’t help but feel for the gentle creature standing unaware, and a wave of reluctance washed over you. Turning to him, you whispered, trying to convince him, “It’s just a helpless animal…”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a hint of irritation crossing his face. But after a moment, his expression softened as he looked at you, and he let out a quiet sigh. Though a bit begrudgingly, he lowered his weapon.

“Fine,” he muttered, barely concealing a small smirk. Together, you moved on to search for something smaller, Logan leading the way with a slight shake of his head, as if both amused and exasperated.

After walking a little further, you both spotted a wild boar rummaging around the forest floor. Though the idea still tugged painfully at you, you managed to steel yourself, accepting that Logan would take this one down. Once again, you crouched behind cover, careful to stay hidden from the boar’s sight.

Logan took aim and fired, the shot ringing out sharply in the quiet of the woods. You flinched slightly, a quick jolt of surprise, but it wasn’t as bad as you expected. With just one shot, Logan brought the boar down, his skill evident in that single, precise hit. “Come on” he clicked his head towards the animal and you slowly followed him.

When you reached the fallen animal, a wave of sadness stirred in you, seeing it lying there. Logan noticed your expression, and without a word, he stepped closer to you, his gaze softening.

He placed a warm, steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his voice low and calm. “It’s alright. I know this feels…heavy.” His hand moved in a slow, reassuring circle, and you could feel the tension in your body start to melt just a little.

“Hunting isn’t easy, but sometimes it’s necessary. Out here, it’s survival.”

You looked up at him, catching the quiet sympathy in his eyes. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes softened as he gave you a small smile. “We use what we take,” he added, as if sensing you needed something more to ease your mind. “Nothing goes to waste.”

His thumb brushed your shoulder with an unexpected tenderness, and the weight on your chest began to lift. You nodded, still feeling a little heavy-hearted but reassured by his words. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling his warmth seeping through you.

Logan gave your shoulder one last squeeze, lingering just a moment before he released you. “Come on,” he said, his tone back to its usual steady resolve. “We’ll take care of him. I’ll show you how.”

He began to prepare the boar, his movements efficient but respectful, and you felt grateful that he understood the balance between survival and compassion.

Logan already carried two boars effortlessly over his shoulders, his strength nothing short of superhuman. Watching him handle such weight so casually stirred a flicker of admiration and something else, a heated thrill you couldn’t quite ignore.

When he looked over with a faint smirk, you felt warmth rise to your cheeks and quickly glanced away, flustered. Logan caught the gesture, and a low chuckle escaped him.

Then, without warning, he pressed a firm hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks. His gaze turned serious, and he tilted his head toward the trees up ahead. “See that?” he whispered, nodding toward another boar just in the distance.

You nodded, heart thumping a little faster. Together, you crept forward, crouching low as you hid yourselves behind a bush. Logan carefully lowered the animals he was carrying to the ground and pulled out his rifle, eyes focused on the target. For a few seconds, he lined up his shot, but then he turned his gaze toward you, a determined glint in his eye.

“If you’re going to survive out here, you’re going to have to learn how to handle this,” he murmured, holding the rifle out to you. With a nod, he motioned for you to move in closer.

For a moment, you hesitated, but the intensity in Logan’s eyes drew you in. You stepped closer, until you were pressed against him, his sturdy form shielding you from behind. The closeness felt reassuring, comforting even, yet you struggled to focus on anything other than the way his body molded perfectly against yours.

Slowly, you reached out for the rifle, feeling its unexpected weight. Sensing your effort, Logan wrapped his hands around yours, helping you hold it steady. You both gripped it together, his strong hands guiding yours.

The warmth of Logan’s chest pressed against your back sent shivers down your spine, awakening a flood of excitement that you couldn’t control. His strong arms surrounded you, hands wrapped firmly around yours on the rifle, steady and commanding. Each breath he took brushed softly against your neck, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but his presence. Solid, protective, and impossibly close.

His touch was rough but careful, and the way his fingers enveloped yours made your pulse race. You couldn’t ignore the way his grip felt, strong and possessive, sending waves of thrill and desire through you.

He covered you like a protective barrier, making you feel safe enough to face anything.

“All right,” he murmured in a voice that was dark, smooth, almost too tempting. “Now, aim at him.” His breath brushed your ear, making it even harder to concentrate. Your fingers touched his where they rested over yours, sending sparks down your spine. But you tried your best to focus, steadying your gaze on the boar ahead.

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly, his voice a low rumble that made you take a deep breath, willing yourself to keep your aim.

Your hands were shaking a bit, but Logan’s massive hands kept the rifle steady, guiding it in perfect alignment. “Shoot,” he commanded, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of yourself. But then, with a gentle push from him, you squeezed the trigger, and the shot rang out. The impact sent a jolt through you, and you stumbled slightly backward into Logan’s chest. He chuckled softly, glancing down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and reassuring. You nodded quickly, eyes already moving to the wild boar lying motionless on the ground.

“You did it. Good job,” he praised, and the words sent another wave of satisfaction rushing through you, a pleasant heat spreading between your thighs.

Logan then stood, offering his hand to help you up, and you both walked over to inspect the boar. You felt terrible, a heavy weight pressing on your chest as you stared at the lifeless body of the wild boar, the one you had just killed. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and a wave of guilt washed over you. But Logan didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Without hesitation, he hoisted the dead boar over his shoulders, along with the two others, and started walking back toward the cabin with you.

Before getting in the truck, he tossed the animals into the back with ease, as though it was nothing. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving you standing outside, unsure of what to do next.

“Hop in!” Logan called out with a grin, and you quickly obeyed, climbing into the truck. “We’re going to the store. I’ll need something,” he said, and with a turn of the key, the engine roared to life.

As soon as you stepped into the store, everything felt new. You had never been inside a store before, and it amazed you. Shelves upon shelves filled with things you’d never seen, snacks, drinks, and foods that were completely unfamiliar to you. Logan had told you to stay close to him, but the overwhelming curiosity got the best of you. You couldn’t help but wander around, eyeing all the delicious treats you had no idea existed.

Suddenly, three men approached you. “Hey cutie” one of the slimy guys called out making you turn around. You raised your eyebrows innocently and incomprehension as you watched them approach you. They kept whispering something to each other and laughing, in a very creepy way.

"Damn you're a snack!" "Nice curves you've got there!" they said and kept getting closer. You backed up until you hit a shelf, not allowed to move away from them anymore. "What's a hot chick like you doing in a place like this?" the tallest guy with a beard, that smelled like rotten fish, reached out and tried to touch your arm. You flinched, trying to step away, but they only followed.

You took another step back, hoping to escape their grip, but it was no use. Another hand reached out to brush against your waist, sending a shiver of discomfort down your spine. “Yeah, come on sweetheart, don’t be shy. Let us show you a good time.”

Your heart raced, fear bubbling inside, but before you could react, you heard a familiar, low voice. “I think she’s good, boys”

He was standing there now, his arms crossed, his presence like a wall of muscle, dark eyes locked on the men. His voice was calm but deadly serious.

“And who the hell are you? You some kinda hero?”

Logan stepped closer, his gaze never leaving them. “No, I’m not. But I’ll make sure you wish you were never born if you keep this up.”

The men hesitated, clearly weighing their options. Logan’s stance and cold, threatening tone made them think twice. He reached out, grabbing one by the collar and pulling him a few inches off the ground.

“You’d better walk away. Now.” The men quickly realized they were outmatched, and with a few muttered curses, they backed off, turning and walking away in defeat. Logan kept his eyes on them, waiting until they were completely gone before letting the tension in his body ease.

He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly, though still protective. “You good?” You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you, though your heart was still racing. Logan’s presence had been a shield, and you couldn’t help but feel safe again.

You quietly thanked him, and Logan simply nodded. He didn’t hesitate any longer, unwilling to risk more men getting too close to you. Gently, he grabbed your waist and pulled you to his side, holding you there. You didn’t protest.

Logan’s usual cool demeanor had a hint of something else now, something possessive, as his hand rested firmly on your side. He wasn’t just guarding you, he was claiming you in a way. His thoughts were elsewhere, likely simmering with anger over what had just happened. Though he’d tried to handle things calmly with words, the desire to protect you at all costs was stronger than ever.

He might’ve been trying to be civil, but if anyone tried something again, there would be no hesitation. Logan would’ve torn them apart in seconds if you weren’t around. He had a certain control over himself, but it was clear, he didn’t like anyone stepping too close to what was his.

You came to the register, Logan paid and you left. You didn't exchange a word until then. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked, turning the subject away. He didn't want to discuss the uncomfortable situation further and make you feel uneasy. Talking about food seemed like a better topic to him.

“I don't know” Logan left you from his grip, when you were already at the car. You got inside, where Logan placed the grocery bag in the back seat, before starting the car. "We'll figure something out"

It was evening when you were finally back at the cabin, and Logan was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The scent of fresh ingredients filled the air, mixing with the smoky, earthy aroma of the forest outside. He was focused, moving with the kind of purpose you admired. You sat on the couch, leaning back into the cushions, watching him from where you were. You were wearing a new shirt, his shirt, of course, but nothing else but your underwear.

As your eyes traced the muscles in his arms, the way his body moved as he chopped and stirred, you felt yourself growing more and more captivated by him. The warmth from the kitchen contrasted with the cool air in the room, but it only added to the heat that built inside you, a feeling that had nothing to do with temperature.

You wanted to help, of course, but when you offered, Logan shook his head. “You should rest,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder at you, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got this.”

With a small, reluctant sigh, you sank back further into the couch, feeling the warmth of the room settle around you. Logan finished preparing the meal, but instead of rushing to serve, he made you a cup of warm tea. The steam rose up, delicate and soothing. He handed it to you with a soft smile, the heat of the cup spilling into your hands, grounding you in the moment.

You wrapped your fingers around the warm ceramic, grateful for the comfort he offered, both physically and emotionally. The tenderness, the care he took in everything he did for you, it made you feel both vulnerable and cherished.

Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with those intense eyes of his, the same gaze that had been on you since the moment you met. It was as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. And you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart race.

Logan finished preparing the meal, a hearty dish of seared steaks, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes, the savory smells filling the cabin and making your stomach growl with anticipation. He set the plates down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you were sitting, making sure everything was just right. You couldn’t help but smile, taking in the scene. The warm glow of the lights in the cabin made it feel cozy and intimate, a stark contrast to the chaos of your past.

You both settled onto the couch, Logan taking a seat beside you. The food was delicious, and even though the conversation wasn’t centered around anything important, it felt grounding. Logan had a way of making even the smallest details sound interesting. His deep voice, full of humor, washed over you as he shared stories of his time on the road, a mix of ridiculous adventures and near-disasters.

Logan’s laughter was like music, deep and genuine. He didn’t laugh often, but when he did, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from him, even if only for a moment. You couldn’t help but laugh along, his energy infectious, his smile that much brighter when he caught your eye.

As you both continued eating, you realized how easy it was to be with him. There was no need to act or pretend, no awkward silences or forced small talk. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were completely at ease. The sound of Logan’s voice, the warmth of the food, the softness of the couch beneath you, it all felt like home.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed, how the world outside the cabin had ceased to exist in that moment. For the first time in years, you felt truly happy.

Logan’s eyes caught yours, a small smile on his lips. “What?” he asked, noticing your gaze. You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Nothing, just… this feels nice,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Nice, huh? You sure know how to flatter a guy.” You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you, but it wasn’t just from the food. It was from being here, with him. Safe. Comfortable. Content.

“I mean it,” you said, your voice softer now. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like… I don’t have to worry about anything.”

Logan paused, his fork hovering in the air for a second before he set it down on his plate. His gaze softened, just for a moment, before he looked away. “I get that,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Things don’t have to be complicated, not when you’re with the right people.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, his sincerity making you feel something deep within. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that for once, you could just be happy. That you didn’t need to keep fighting.

He looked back at you, his expression now more serious. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice low, yet filled with an honesty that hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you nodded, trying to mask how much those words meant. It was strange, how something so simple could affect you so much. But then again, everything with Logan felt different, more real.

The night wore on, and the two of you shared stories, laughed, and ate. The weight of the world didn’t seem as heavy as it had just hours ago. You were no longer thinking about the FBI or what had brought you here. You were only thinking about the present, about Logan.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan’s voice was casual, but there was something in it that caught your attention. You nodded, waiting for him to continue. He took a final bite of his food, chewing slowly before setting his plate down with a soft clink.

“Have you ever been with anyone?” The question hung in the air, unexpected and direct. It startled you, leaving you unsure of how to respond. Your mind raced, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. Logan, sensing the hesitation, quickly shifted his tone, as if trying to soften the impact. But you still found yourself replying simply, “No. I never really had the chance.”

He seemed to understand, nodding thoughtfully. “If you had the chance, though, I bet you’d have no trouble at all.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head in disbelief. “No way… I don’t think so.”

Logan’s expression softened as he leaned slightly forward, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a seriousness in his voice when he spoke again, but a warmth too. “Yes way, I mean look at you. You’re beautiful, not just on the outside, but in everything you are. The way you carry yourself, your strength, the way you laugh, it all draws people in. You have this… presence. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be close to you.”

The sincerity in his words made your breath catch. It was as though every insecurity you’d hidden deep inside was being slowly unraveled, laid bare in the best possible way. His words, simple but heartfelt, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

Logan kept speaking, his words filling the space between you. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” His voice was deep, full of admiration, and you could feel how much he meant it. “You’ve got this amazing energy, this fire. I don’t know how you do it.”

But despite his compliments, something inside you was aching to stop him, to silence all those words. You wanted him in a way you couldn’t explain, something fierce that pulsed through your veins. You couldn’t hold back any longer. You leaned in, your breath catching as you pressed your lips gently against his.

Logan was surprised at first, barely reacting, his lips soft under yours. He wasn’t expecting this, and neither were you, but the spark that ignited between you two was undeniable.

Before you could even think, Logan’s hands found their way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips parted, deepening the kiss. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, passionate, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You felt his fingers move, cupping your face gently, as though he was afraid of breaking something precious between you. But you weren’t fragile. You weren’t scared.

You responded, matching his intensity, the heat between you two overwhelming, leaving you both breathless.

You put your plate down on the table as Logan's weight weighed you down, so you were underneath him. He didn't want to rush into anything, but at the same time, he couldn't keep that desire inside him for long.

He was kissing you hungrily and you kissed him back, your fingers found a place between his soft hair, which you pulled and messed up. His knee, without his intention, slowly rubbed against your panties. He created the pressure that you wanted for a long time. Your core was pulsating, greedily, desperately wanting something to drive away that annoying lust.

Your lips leaving a soft moans between the kisses, making Logan's pants tighter. Your sweet sound made it hard for Logan to be patient with you. His hands were slowly moving down, gently exploring your body. Every touch of his filled you with doses of adrenaline. Your hips were carefully rocking against Logan's knee as a natural instinct. He scoffed and stopped kissing you to take a look at you.

"Someone's eager huh?" His voice sounded mocking but at the same time, irritated you much more than his leg against your core. You wanted him. You needed him. Lust like you've never experienced before. It was stronger than hunger or thirst, it was much more intense.

You had no idea what was happening to you but you knew you needed Logan. Much, much closer. He didn't need to read minds to see how frantically you needed this.

He lunged at your lips again, much more wildly. One of his hands traveled quite quickly to your legs. When he reached your thighs, he massaged you for a while there. Oh god he needed it as badly as you did.

He couldn't remember the last time he had good sex. It's been a while since he's been living alone in this cabin with only the animals around. Of course, when he got the hang of it, he masturbated, but over time he got tired of it. But the moment you appeared in his sight, you reawakened in him the flame of passion and especially erection, which he was still trying to hide and suppress whenever you were near him.

But now was the time when you both could finally indulge. To relax, achieve pleasure and share the most intimate moment with the person who saved you.

Logan's hand smoothly moved from your thigh to your inner thigh, way too close to the point you wanted him the most. You tried to move your hips so that he would finally touch you. He chuckled softly, noticing your movements. “Easy there”

His middle finger started gently brushing you through your panties. Your eyes widened, as you felt a tickle warm feeling in your lower stomach. You couldn't describe what exactly you felt but it was breathtaking. You couldn't get enough of it.

Logan was careful, gentle and obedient, but you kept implying that you wanted the exact opposite. You wanted more, more pressure, more fingers, but most of all you wanted him to finally take off your panties. You bit your lower lip, trying to be quiet as the soft groans of desperation started leaving your throat, without even realizing it.

"Come on princess, let me hear you" Logan put more pressure into his finger, making you close your eyes and drop your jaw. You couldn't control your voice anymore and that was exactly what Logan wanted. Hearing your moaning and seeing your eyebrows twitching in pleasure, made his dick even harder.

He wanted to feel you, he wanted to taste you, that's why he grabbed your panties made of soft fabric and pulled them off you in one swipe. You gasped a bit as the cold fresh air touched your bare core, wet and pulsating.

When Logan saw your pussy, his breath caught in his chest. You were beautiful. The transparent glistening liquid on your labia was driving him crazy. It looked like the most delicious meat he would ever taste and he decided to not waste any more time, even though he would love to look at you even longer.

He got on his knees on the couch, lowering himself so that his head was right between your thighs. You lowered your head, heavy breathing and heart beating like never before. This image will be etched in your memory forever. His devilish smile and flirtatious wink was the last time you saw, before you started seeing stars.

He buried his face into your cunt, his nose teasing your clit while his tongue was swirling around your surface. He licked off all your wetness while you had to catch on to something. You grab his already disheveled hair, pulling and tugging him.

Your strokes, which Logan barely felt, made him growl against you, sending pleasent vibration right into your core. "Logan" you gasped as his tongue finally penetrated you. He was stretching you and surprisingly, it didn't hurt at all. You were so horny that his penetration was smooth without any problems.

You bit your lips again, creating a bloody mess there, but you could care less. You kept moving your hips awkwardly as Logan created a volcano of emotions inside you. His tongue touched your walls, twirling around and tasting every drop of your juice. On top of that, his nose didn't stop at deliberately provoking your sensitive clit, sending you closer and closer to orgasm.

Logan kept his eyes on you. He watched as your nostrils flared, your brows furrowed, and your muscles tensed beyond belief trying to hold on. You could feel his cocky smile, as your walls started to tighten around his tongue. He knew you were close. “You taste so good”

Your grunt grew louder with every flick of Logan's tongue, your hips moving against his face, before you felt a pressing sensation in your lower abdomen. Goosebumps covered your entire body and a chill ran down your spine, before it happened. Your jaw fall open, your eyes tight close and you shouted over the entire cottage, that even the birds outside flew away.

You squirm all over Logan's face. The feeling of release washed over you until you fell from the height and struggled to catch your breath. Logan licked you, he was very dusty and didn't want to leave even a drop of your cum. The overstimulation started heating up your core.

Logan moved away from your crotch, sitting on his ankles and watching you for a moment. Even though you were drained, you still looked stunning. You opened your eyes when you felt huge warm hands on your cheeks. "That's my girl" you chuckled, your eyelids felt heavy but you couldn't stop looking at Logan's face. He still had the rest of your squirm on his chin and nose, glistening through the rays of cozy light around the room.

"Are you ready?" your heart skipped a beat at his question, but his messy hair with face like an angel made you nod your head. Logan smiled with a huff, kissing you harshly. His hands weren't as careful as before, he was reaching all over you and didn't hesitate to touch you under your, actually his, shirt at all.

You cooperated with his passionate kissing, both of you sighing. Suddenly you felt something poking you which started to annoy you. You pulled away from Logan's lips and looked down to see his huge erection still trapped in his pants. Your eyes widened and your core started pulsating again. Logan noticed your staring and couldn't help but chuckle.

“What are you lookin' at?” you quickly look back into his eyes, embarrassed. As a result, you started to blush and had to suck your lips into a thin line. God Logan adored you.

"Don't worry sweetie" he leans, brushing his lips against your ear as his hot breath warmed your skin. “You'll get it” with those words, he covered your face in soft kisses. You were enjoying it until you heard belt unfastening and a zipper. You knew it was coming and you couldn't wait. You were so heated up and that Logan's cock could cool you down.

You felt the excitement spread throughout your body, as Logan's pants fell onto the floor. You already felt something hard tickling you in your inner thigh. You were impatient. You let out an eager purr, indicating that you absolutely needed to have Logan inside you. He sense your hints and the uncontrollable movements of your hips, fervently trying to get some friction.

Logan look at you, eyes dark with lust, before he presses his lips against yours and at that exact same time, he slowly thrust into you. You squeak, eyes widened as he stretched your walls extremely wide. You were wrapped around him, so fucking tight. His precum mixed with the remaining juices inside you, creating a useful natural lubricant.

"Fuck" he dropped his forehead against yours, his hot breathing in shallow, uneven gasps as he continued his way to get fully inside you. You were quietly whimpering, eyes closed but you felt amazing. Logan's presence so close to you finally got rid of that aggravating aching between your legs.

“Hold onto me baby,” Logan kept comforting you and whispering sweet things that made your heart beat faster. “Just like that” his voice low and hard, ruspy in a way that tickled your eardrums. You automatically wrapped your legs around Logan's waist when he was inside to the base. You felt so full, but that it still wasn't enough. You begged for more.

Logan, like a true gentleman, let you get used to him and catch a breath a little, before he started the rodeo. He moved his pan with incredibly gentle movements. His tip touching and provoking your cervix and places you didn't even know could be reached.

Your mouth opened automatically as you were sighing, your voice pitch and strong. "You like that?" Logan was looking at you and even though you couldn't see him, you instinctively suspected that he was watching you. You didn't mind. You didn't mind at all. You nodded carelessly and threw your head back as Logan started to pick up the pace.

Exactly what you needed and wanted. It's like he's reading your mind. As if he knew your body perfectly and knew exactly what you want, what you desire, what you need.

He took both of your hands and held them tightly as he placed them above your head. Again, you didn't mind. Your only focus was his cock in your vagina. How wonderful he feels. How his massive cock touches every sensitive spot inside you, slowly but surely bringing you to climax.

“Look at you,” he said with a smile as he fought himself not to empty himself into you yet. You're making it really hard for him though. "Such a...." he dropped his head as his dick started twitching, his thrusts gained strength and intensity. "Such a good girl”

He felt it. You felt it too. You stopped perceiving your surroundings, your ears started ringing and the rumbling in your stomach burned. Logan, on the other hand, felt he wouldn't last much longer.

He quickly unbuttoned your shirt, the buttons flew around but it was a blast for both of you. Your breasts bounced to the rhythm of Logan's thrusting, which started being unbearable. He lost control of his pelvis and movements in order to catch up with his orgasm. He got on his knees, freeing your hands but held your hips firmly, while keep pounding into you without mercy.

"You feel s-so good" he groaned his eyes tightly shut as he felt his orgasm being implausibly close. Your legs started shaking, vibrating. You stopped feeling your toes and that's when you felt it. You arch your back, jaw wide open while you moaned really, really loudly.

Your walls tightened around Logan's length, but he didn't stop. All of your muscles stiffened until in one moment, they suddenly relaxed and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Logan chuckled when you cum all over his dick and decided not to wait for his moment anymore. Few more hard thrust, before he pulled out and sprayed your belly with his seed.

His moan was really intense and turned you on again, plus the realization that he made this sound just because of you, your heart was melting.

After that he collapsed on you but carefully, not to smash your tiny body. His forehead was leaning against yours, both of you breathing heavily while giggling. "That was...awesome" Logan sighed, making you laugh and blush. It was that good, that you couldn't even talk. But Logan made sure that there was no awkward silence.

"You were quite loud, princess,” your cheeks started to blush but you didn't break eye contact with Logan, even with such close proximity. “Always so quiet and mysterious… but in bed? You’re not afraid of that, are you?” you were terribly shy, but in a good way. You didn't know you could make such sounds yourself.

He grinned, seeing you all red and sweaty was a moment of comfort for him. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt butterflies in his stomach and they just wouldn't go away since he saw you.

"Come on, let's get you clean up" Logan grunted as he stood up and didn't ask you, just grabbed you and carried you into the bathroom like a princess. You didn't complain, you swung your legs and rested your head on his chest, feeling indescribably good with him.

A few years had passed, and the life you and Logan had built together only grew deeper and richer with time. You’d both settled into a quiet, natural rhythm, a blend of strength and softness, of trust and a fierce loyalty that had grown from countless shared moments, both big and small. Logan, once guarded and wary, had opened up to you in ways neither of you expected, revealing a side that was as protective and tender as it was wild. And you, too, had found a quiet courage within yourself, rooted in him and in the life you shared. Your bond felt like something timeless and unbreakable, a connection that had only strengthened as the years drifted by, like roots that had grown deep and steady in the rich earth of your love.

Logan stood outside the cabin, dressed only in a pair of worn, dark-gray sweatpants that clung to his muscular frame. His gaze stretched out over the rugged landscape, eyes fixed on the rolling hills and dense trees, but his thoughts were somewhere far beyond the scenery. The dawn air was cool, mist rising in thin wisps over the ground, and Logan breathed it in slowly, grounding himself in the calm solitude of nature. His rugged face was softened in the morning light, deep in thought, a rare vulnerability showing in his expression as he seemed to wrestle with something private, something known only to him.

Then, as if sensing him, you stepped quietly onto the porch, carrying a small, bundled form against your chest. You approached him with a warmth and excitement that seemed to break through his solitude. The tiny child in your arms cooed softly, and Logan, feeling your presence before even hearing a sound, turned around. His face lit up with an expression that was a blend of pride, awe, and something deeper, something fierce and protective.

With a gentle smile, you cradled his newborn closer, offering the child toward him. Logan’s face softened, and he reached out, his large, roughened hand brushing over the child’s head with an almost reverent touch.

“She really do have your nose,” he murmured, a smirk breaking across his face as he looked up at you.

You laughed softly, stepping close to wrap your arm around his waist. Logan pulled you in, his warmth settling around you both. Together, you looked out over the vast expanse of trees and sky stretching endlessly before you, wrapped in the serenity of the moment.

“Can you believe this?” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder.

Logan’s voice was low but sure. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his rough hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

The life you shared with him in that moment, under the quiet sky, was both humbling and thrilling, an unexpected future he never dared to hope for but now couldn’t imagine living without.

#smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #wolverine #marvel x reader #marvel xmen #marvel smut #marvel

380 notes · View notes

dilatorywriting · 1 year ago

Text

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

[TAG LIST]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

2K notes · View notes

igotanidea · 7 months ago

Text

We'll make it: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI!

So, she got accepted to that one Univerity faculty she wanted to attend since being a teen.

It was a dream come true, except for one tiny detail.

She was leaving.

For 3 years.

A thousand miles away from her boyfiend Jason.

And he never explicitly said it, but his eyes, his face, his entire posture that shifted from relaxed in her presence to terrified at the thought of loosing her, were speaking volumes.

And no matter how much she tried to assure him the two of them will survive it, regardless of the strength she put on for both of their sakes - nothing could ease his worries.

How would he survive without her by his side?

Who would he come back to after patrol to hold and love and snuggle with?

Whose laugh and tears and words and touch and humor and moodiness would fill his days?

But he knew he had to let her go.

It was her dream after all, and who he was to ever stop her from fullfilling it...

Nothing.

Just an outcast, outlaw, vigilante casted away and abandoned even by his own family.

He never deserved her in the first place and it was time to deal with it.

She were too good for him.

But that was never what she thought.

So the last night before the departure, when she was finishing packing her bags and he was keeping his distance, leaning on the doorframe trying to act casual and happy for her?

She couldn't stand it.

She hated the fact that he seemed to just ... give up. Let go of the fight. Surrender.

Red Hood would never surrender.

And Y/N Y/L/N wouldn't either.

"So, are you excited for tomorrow?" he asked with a fake smile

"I'm actually feeling a lot of things at the same time" she sighed heavily zipping her suitcase.

"I think it's pretty normal." Jason shrugged taking a step forward putting her luggage up to make it ready for the morning and that little, somewhat helpful after all, gesture made her mad.

Mad like he has never seen her before.

"What is wrong with you?!" she yelled but all she got in response was a surprised, indifferent look on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"what do I--?" she stuttered, her eyes widening in shock. Was he for real? He didn'd care at all? "WHAT DO I MEAN?!!"

"Stop yelling princess, you're acting crazy."

"CRAZY!? I'm acting crazy to you?!"

"Ok, seriously, what the hell do you want from me!?" he spat back, getting annoyed by her behaviour.

"WHY WON'T YOU FIGHT FOR ME?!"

"Fight for you?" his eyes glistened with rage, but also something more, something she couldn;t quite decipher "you want me to fight for you, huh? Well be careful what you wish for cause if I start doing it--" he gritted his teeth stopping the sentence in the middle.

Y/N took a single look at his face. Narrowed eyes. Pursed lips. And then other telltales. Hard breathing. Rapid chest movements. Clenched fists.

"Jason..."

"FUCK!" he yelled, grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to the kiss that was as intense as if he was trying to swallow her whole. His lips moving against her with the power and stoutess that resebled the fire consuming everything that happened to be on his path. Nothing else mattered in this moment, except for her.

His girlfriend, his lover, his babygirl.

Who just finished collecting her things before flight.

Jason groaned grabbing her waist, squeezing her body in an iron tight grip, her whimpers only spurring him on, making him want more, making him want to tear her clothes off, pin her to bed, take her like an animal, make her stay.

Make her fucking stay.

But he couldn't.

And it made him stop and pull back in shame.

"Jason..." she gasped, feeling the emptiness when he moved away. Her hair were messy, eyes glassy, lips already swollen.

"I'm sorry princess..."

"Oh fuck you todd" she groaned rushing to his arms again, wrapping herself around him like a glove, needing his touch, his love, his lips, hands, everything.

She started the fire in him.

The fire he was trying so hard to contain while withdrawing and keeping his cool.

He wasn't anymore.

She was going away. There was no denying the reality. So if anything he could give her something to remember him by.

To rememeber them by.

"I got a little surprise for you..." she whispered pulling back to the point where he let her. Her hands locked with his, guiding them to the hem of her shirt signalling to pull it up.

And when he did?

The view that came to his eyes counldn't be compared with anything else. The sexiest, the most turning on, cock hardening red lacy lingerie made her look like a goddess.

"Fuck, Y/N." he tore the shirt off completely, tracing over her soft, warm skin, caressing her breasts through the thin lacy material.

"Say it..." she gasped feeling his kisses on her neck, his hands on her ass, pulling her closer.

"I don't want you to go."

"Show me."

"Oh I;m gonna show you."

Her pants were gone in a second, his fingers dipping under the material of her panties, feeling her wetness, going lower, depeer, harder...

"But not like this." Jason grabbed her waist and carried her to the bedroom.

Layed her down.

Kissed her enitre body.

Slowly unclasped all those tiny buckles, untangled all the strings, making sure that she felt each caress, each kiss, each sweet word whispered in her ear.

Moved slowly and tenderly.

Made love to her with so much care and intensity without going rough.

Looking straight into her eyes with each thrust.

We'll make it.

That was the message his gaze was conveing. One simple sentence that never had a chance to leave his mouth.

We'll make it.

"Yes..." she gasped tightening the grip of her legs on his waist, running hands down his back, pulling him closer, and they both knew that she didn't just refer to sex.

We'll make it.

And when the first rays of sun shone on the horizon....

When her lips brushed his forehead till the next time they were going to see each other....

When the doors closed quietly to not stir him awake...

Two hearts were still beating in the same rythm,

We'll make it.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd smut #red hood smut

281 notes · View notes

fromchaostocosmos · 6 months ago

Text

Claims that Israel has been committing a genocide of Palestinians date to long before October 7. Yet the population of Gaza was estimated to be less than 400,000 when Israel captured the territory from Egypt in a war against multiple Arab countries in 1967. It’s now estimated at just over 2 million. Population growth of almost 600% would make it the most inept genocide in the history of the world.

Those repeating the word genocide over and over, turning it into a mantra that penetrates the public consciousness, smearing Israel and anyone who supports it, ignore the facts of this war. This is not an unprovoked war, like Russia’s against Ukraine. It’s not a civil war between rival militias, like the one raging in Sudan — which, by the way, is being ignored by almost everyone, even though the UN describes it as one of the “worst humanitarian crises in recent memory,” where a famine could kill 500,000 people. No, Israel was attacked. On October 7, Hamas launched a gruesome assault on Israeli civilians, killing some 1,200 — including many women and children — and dragging hundreds of them as hostages into Gaza. Today dozens — including many women and children — remain in captivity. Those who keep saying that Israel’s response is an act of revenge rather than the strategic, defensive war that most Israelis view as a fight for national survival against a determined enemy backed by a powerful country are deliberately distorting reality. In doing so, they are perversely evoking the same false blood lust and grotesqueness embedded in the blood libel archetype.

Indeed, Hamas’ actions, which precipitated this war, don’t seem to exist in the minds of ostensibly humanitarian-minded protesters. Nor even the fate of the hostages, still captive in Hamas tunnels. Although the campus protests vary in their message and actions from school to school, we never hear protesters chant that Hamas should release the hostages or accept a ceasefire. Quite the contrary. Accusations against Israel at times include praise for Hamas, one of whose aims — the end of the Jewish state — is shared by some key organizers of the student protests. As Secretary of State Antony Blinken recently said, “It remains astounding to me that the world is almost deafeningly silent when it comes to Hamas.” Accusing Israel of genocide and putting the entire onus for stopping the war, putting all the blame for the deaths, on the Jewish state is even more astounding because Hamas — designated a terrorist organization by the US, the European Union and many other countries — is a group whose explicit goal, according to its founding charter, is not just to destroy Israel, but to kill Jews. That is the definition of genocide.

Still, the death toll, even by the Hamas count, does not in any way suggest a genocidal campaign. The terror organization puts the total at about 35,000. The figure, disputed by The Washington Institute for Near East Policy among other think tanks and researchers, includes Hamas fighters. That means the number of civilians killed, whatever the total, is actually lower. Compare that to the death toll in Mosul, Iraq, where coalition forces uprooted ISIS from a city that had some 600,000 people at the time. Estimates of the exact number of deaths vary, ranging from 9,000 to 40,000 (the latter is the estimate of Kurdish intelligence). The lowest figure is on par with the rate of total deaths reported by Hamas authorities in Gaza that does not distinguish civilians from Hamas fighters, while the highest is four times greater. I don’t recall hearing the term genocide used there, or in any of the battles that led to more than half a million people being killed in Afghanistan and Iraq during America’s wars there. And yet, Israel has been repeatedly smeared with this damning accusation.

#antisemitism #judenhass #jumblr

150 notes · View notes

onlykenobimatters · 2 months ago

Text

Codywan au where the clone troopers are actually a reincarnated group of an ancient sect of warriors from mandalorian space. They remember pieces of their previous society; some from the beginning of their origins all the way to the last grasping few. A lot of effort goes in to getting them assigned to the correct battalions. For they had a pantheon of gods they once worshipped and while they have always been One Blood, they believed very seriously in their coming of age ceremony where they must choose the god they would worship. It might have been thousands of years, but none stray from their Chosen.

(The pantheon would be similar to others in which they might have a core group of gods, but other minor gods could also exist. Each with their own domains;

Plo Koon was The Guardian? Protector of Packs and god of loyalty.

Mac Windu the Seer, protector/god of the past and future

While Yoda could be one of their oldest gods, his domains having shifted through the years but mainly protector of the young.

And then quigon who is associated with natural disasters. Legend is he was roaming their world, damning and saving mortals as he went, when he created a disaster so wroth, so powerful, he could not bare for it to fade. He pleaded with his grand sire and eventually Yoda agreed to help him. Combining their domains they turned the raging storm in to a young godling.

Obi-Wan, nature personified.

There are many legends involving the young godling and his journey. How he discovers his domains. And how he uses them to follow in his father’s footsteps to create children in his Image. For what is more natural than life and death?

Obi-wan is not the only one to create a god, but he is the only one to not need assistance. He becomes the Creator, the god of natural order, Father of Life (ahsoka) & death (Anakin)

Over the centuries the Line of Natural Order is adapted to many cultures within their system. Other attributes are gifted to them by followers of The Great Powers as well;

Life, goddess of survival & champion of the light side of the Great Power.

Death, god of balance & champion of the dark side of the Great Power.

The Creator, god of natural order and the Blessed, those who hold connections with the Great Power. )

and like I don't quite know where I was going with this, but clone wars era where the clones kind of remember this culture that doesn't seem to be recorded anywhere and these jedi that feel something Awaken when they meet these shining lights in the force.

and Obi-Wan gently cupping Cody's face, his blue eyes shining brightly. Obi-Wan allowing the force to guide him as he gently lays a kiss upon Co-, no, Kote's forehead, the warrior breathing in harshly as the first Blessing in thousands of years is granted to him. Kote is glory and Kote will uphold the Natural Order as The Creator, Ken'Obi, sees fit. For Kote is now Blessed by his patron God.

i dont even know this got away from me ugh

#the god of death and balance anakin listen he is the SkyWalker who guides souls to become one with the Great Power #anciet slaves who pray for a warm welcome when they can find none while alive #those who pray that balance would be restored and no longer woudl they grieve #codywan fic #codywan #life sruvival ahsoka who is born from the creator unknowingly #she is found by the god of loyalty #she is raised for a time as Pack #but she years for her Father and she gets reunited with the Creator and death balance Brother #troopers secretly building alters on their ships and the jedi not noticing their connection to the Force growing stronger and less clouded #how did i get here #ayla being a goddess of combat and champion of the Freedmen who was raised by the god of safe travel and mischief theres maybe a legend #or two about her falling for one of her devoted priests #he may or may not be cursed by a dark entity and is forced to kill her #the legend says their joined tears helped a seed to grow and a certain tree that sprouts and #that is associated with devout love is their legacy but you didnt hear it from me #ugh i need to stop with these tags

76 notes · View notes

curtsycream · 8 months ago

Text

Baxter Radic Blurb

Finally finished season two of surviving summer and I love Bax’s character. He also deserved better so I’m giving him better. I’m giving him you babes <3

“How about that one?”

Looking down at his hand he looked over the tattoo she was pointing at. The slim reddish pink lollipop tattoo with small font along the white stick. Smiling at her he shook his head, “it’s just something small…I’ve always had it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head in return. “You didn’t have it before you left Queensland.”

Baxter bit back the chance to tease her for being so observant with his body. He held back as he tried to think about something to say to distract her. Nothing came to mind and he knew she wouldn’t buy into a lie.

“It’s new, got it my first week here,” he finally admitted to her.

The Queensland surfer smiled at him, “I’m loving this honesty streak. I’m guessing that Summer girl really got through to you, huh?”

“It wasn’t Summer,” he mumbled.

She craned her head back to look up at him in her seated position. “Then—then who? Or what? You’ve never been so open before,” she trailed off.

“Maybe, I don’t need to explain myself.”

She frowned grabbing his hand, “don’t do that. You always pull back when things feel tough for you. I’m sick of it, why can’t you just tell me the reason? Are you worried I’ll laugh or something? You know me better than—“

“It’s not that!” He exclaimed looking down at her. Running his free hand through his pink hair he shakes his head. “I know you wouldn’t do that, you’re too nice for that. Too nice for me,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that, you’re an amazing guy Bax…not many are like you. You don’t have to tell me about the tattoo just please don’t shut me out. It’s like ever since you moved to Shorehaven you’ve been reluctant to even message me.”

The way in which she was pouring her heart out to him left a sour taste in his mouth. Sitting beside him was the girl he grew to like quite a lot before having to leave. Tweaking his ear with his fingers he looks anywhere but at her. “I—it’s not your fault. I just thought if I avoided you it would make things easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“The fact that I like you and even if I were to tell you I’d find a way to fuck it up like I do everything else.”

The confession made the air around them feel heavy. It wasn’t like him to openly admit his feelings. But then again he had changed since moving away from Queensland. “Bax. Actually listen to me, I want you to know that what happened wasn’t your fault. You were drunk, we were all raging and someone dared you to do it. What you did wasn’t the reason you all had to leave, you know this. I don’t blame you and neither do the others. You’re a great guy,” she spoke calmly as she still held onto his hand.

Looking at her he let out a sigh, “I know that but it still feels like I had a part to play. Even if it wasn’t my fault I still fucked up. The second I got here I messed things up for my new team. I just think I’m causing myself problems.”

“You only think that because you’re so used to taking the blame. I promise you, you’re not at fault and it may take you a while to believe that. But trust me I’ll never blame you for things I know you didn’t mean to do.”

Leaning forward slightly his forehead rests against hers. His bright blue eyes searching her eyes for a hint of falsity. He found none but still he inquired, “promise?”

Raising his pinky he holds it out for her, keeping her forehead to his she locks hers around his. “I promise.”

Moving away from her he smiles keeping his pinky hooked with hers.

“Oh and Bax, I like you.”

#x reader #fluff #surviving summer #baxter radic #Baxter x reader #bax x reader #Baxter Radic x reader #Baxter Blurb #netflix original

157 notes · View notes

throneofsapphics · 3 months ago

Text

track 32

Fenrys x Reader x Lorcan

Summary: Cursed to fall in love, only to have everything ripped away from you, moving on to your next life already feels like a drag, only things don't quite follow their usual patterns.

Warnings: discussions of death, Maeve, brief description of torture, happy ending

Word Count: 8077

A/N: the HAPPIEST of birthdays to @whisperingmidnights <3 I hope you have an amazing day (& thank you to @rowaelinsdaughter for your help)

You tumbled into your new body. Again. At least this time the Gods let you skip through the childhood years, instead flooding your mind with memories of your new past. You could only be a toddler so many times before truly losing the last grip on your sanity.

You’d think so much pain and suffering would flood together, the lives all melting into one giant messed up pot but instead each experience remained distinctly painful to you. Distinctly full of suffering and sour memories. You, obviously, hadn’t survived a single one and your trek across the multiverse was written in blood.

It took you up until life 15 to really stop holding onto so many grudges, especially considering you seemed to be destined to fall for the same people each time. Not the same types of people, but the actual same person.

Whoever put a curse on you had been clever. If you were cursed, perhaps you were just really damn unlucky. But right now you needed a bath, a hot meal, and a good night’s rest. Of course you were drunk. Fresh in from a night out on the town with one of your friends, but you had good some good fortune in this life - your own apartment.

Tossing clothes off as you walked, you beelined towards where you knew the bathing room was. You were pretty certain you’d stayed in this exact apartment building before, and if you remembered correctly each apartment had near identical layouts, the entire building cheap and designed for efficiency. In this life, you’d made it your own more than in the previous ones.

You stepped into the tub, let the cold water hit your toes, partially sobering you, rivulets of now psycho-somatic grime and blood streaming from your body to pool in clear water at your feet.

A mind healer would have a field day with you and you knew it all too well.

Plugging the drain, you adjusted it to reach the perfect temperature. Yes, an efficiency building but still had hot running water. It was odd, but you didn’t question it - you were a creature of comfort after all.

You wondered when you’d see them again. You wished you could say that tall of your interactions started off on a fresh beat, that you had it together enough not to judge them based on versions of them in a different universe, but you weren’t.

Having it together? Maybe, certainly not on that level though. Having it together enough to appreciate their presence at this moment? Hell no.

After last time.

“We’re done,” he mumbled, not willing to make eye contact with you.

“Then say it to my face,” you glanced between both of them.

Heads down. Eyes downcast - first time you’d seen them like that.

“Then I really meant that little, didn’t I?”

“No,” one said - you could barely distinguish who through the raging steam in your ears and tears down your cheeks.

“Yes,” the other said. You didn’t know or care who said what. It didn’t matter. Later, just before the death took you you’d find out who made them do it and realize it still didn’t matter. She may have forced them to lie, but they didn’t have to be quite so convincing. 31 lives had taught you logic had no place in heartbreak.

The memory hit you like a physical blow to the chest, a stinging and pressure left in its wake. That heartbreak had killed you the quickest of them all.

Three days.

It was part of your curse, you’d figured out. To always know. What life you were on, the details of your past lives, how long it took you to do, what the death felt like, every little detail was committed to memory all because you’d dared to love someone a little too much, and ended up stealing them away from a wicked witch.

Well, the story didn’t go quite like that but you thought it sounded better in your head that way. In reality, you’d fallen in love and done something stupid, as all people in love do from time to time.

You and Lorcan had agreed you should try to get Fenrys out, that although it would be more difficult to get him released, Fenrys needed it more. You didn’t have the guts to tell him you needed both of them like you needed air, but there hadn’t been time for that. All of your moments were stolen and borrowed time.

“Will you please release him from your service?” You were on your knees, begging. “Please, Majesty.”

The harsh flooring dug into your knees but you kept the same subservient pose. For someone with so much pride, this was humiliating and your Queen knew it.

“No.”

One flat and toneless word.

“No?” You repeated.

Wicked red lips curved into a smile. “That is what I said.”

You had several choice words for her after, and she’d responded with a fucking curse. Cursed to always love, but to never have it stick, cursed to die from heartbreak.

Even after all of these lives the word ‘curse’ was still ugly in your mouth, still made your stomach heave and back seize at the memories. The times you’ve run into the Queen she hadn’t recognized you, but you knew she was still untouchable. Frequently made that way by the ones you loved.

The breeze sneaking through the poorly insulated window highlighted how water already chilled around you. You didn’t miss that part of this building, the tub held next to no heat and your bathwater always ended up cold in less than fifteen minutes.

You were tempted to stay still and prune, but there was no use in it. A new life, new things to do.

Dragging yourself out of the tub, you dried off as efficiently as you could make yourself, scrounged up some comfortable clothes and headed to your desk. Grabbing a notepad and pen, you began writing.

number thirty-one.

It was a ritual of sorts, perhaps your imaginary mind healer would be proud of you for it, for getting all of your pain out on paper as soon as possible.

Right before you burned it.

Tossing the five sheets of paper on the flames felt good.

Running into them happened far too quickly for your liking. It always did. Life always started and finished too damn fast.

You glanced in the mirror, at what you’d chosen to wear for the night out with your not-really-new friends. The dress fit you perfectly, and showed just enough to leave you feeling bold without being uncomfortable. The gold wrapped around your wrists helped too. Not too much to look rob worthy, but enough to make you feel like some extra type of sheen was thrown over you. Maybe, just maybe this life would bring you a little luck. Was gold supposed to be good luck? You didn’t know, but maybe you’d figure out how to look it up later. If you remembered to.

You felt something warm in your chest, not unlike the flush from the first sip of whiskey. Closing your eyes you could’ve sworn it tugged, dragged you towards another.

No, not in this or any life. It wasn’t possible.

No matter how many times you fell in love and in how many ways, you’d never found a mate and were convinced you were destined not to. 31 lives was enough time to find a mate, a life partner. You should’ve had that done in by life 10.

It was funny, how you’d started measuring your existence in lives rather than years. After all, it fit your circumstances. Permanently destined to be a temporary existence in others lives, and for their existence and influence to end yours. If there was a way out of this, a stopping or breaking of the curse you figured you would’ve found it by now.

A loud pounding on the door and you hissed as the brush slipped, you barely moving your wrist away in time to save your face from a large black streak.

“Gods,” you yelled, “hold on a damn moment.”

“We’re going to miss the bard,” someone - Ella? Yes, Ella, shouted back.

“Alright,” you groused loud enough for her to hear, “one moment.”

One more swipe of kohl and you looked ready. A few deep breaths and you felt ready.

Shoving the cosmetics to the back of the counter, you swung yourself around the doorway, grabbing your coat off the hook and flinging open the front door, finding your friend posed with their fist menacingly mid-air, probably about to break your door down. Memory clicked in, reminding you they can be a tad aggressive on a mission.

Their mouth curved into a too-satisfied smirk, probably that their threats had work. Rolling your eyes, you shoved past them into the hall, quickly locking your door.

“Anyone else for tonight?”

“Just us,” they looped their arm through yours and started for the stairs.

Ugh. Last time in this building you’d been on the ground floor, and you’d definitely miss the convenience of that, but at least you had a pretty balcony view here. It’s all give and take, you supposed.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Ella’s voice interrupted you.

How long had you zoned out? Was that a habit in this lifetime? You couldn’t remember.

“Do I really look that broke?” You deflected.

It worked, she laughed. Maybe it would’ve been nice if she pushed a little.

Fenrys breathed in the fresh air. Maeve had sent him on a mission. Alone. Staking out Varese for several months, observing, but she didn’t exactly tell him what to look for. It was perhaps the most exciting and infuriating mission he’d been assigned. Infuriating, because he truly had no idea what in Hellas’s name he was supposed to do, exciting because he had months to spend doing whatever he thought ‘observing’ looked like.

Yes, he knew it was a mockery of freedom but right now he’d take the gods-damned mockery over what he’s stuck in every day.

Walking through the street, although he stuck to the shadows, unnoticed to the masses, it still felt like each face was sent there to tease him, remind him of the invisible leash tying him to that bitch for the rest of his life. He didn’t know how Lorcan, the bastard, did it with such glee and joy. At least Whitethorn had shown a measure of discontent at some point, he’d even seen a hint of it on perfectly loyal Gavriel’s face.

Something caught his attention. Someone.

Arm in arm with your friend, strolling down the street, exuding pure confidence. Someone aware of their place in this world and what they meant to it. The light in your eyes matched his own. Dimmed, flaring when necessary and just enough to keep up appearances.

Only a fellow fraud would recognize it.

He had to follow. It was insanity, but he needed to see more of you.

That’s how he ended up nursing a drink in the corner of the bar, shadows wreathed around him, cloak pulled up to cover his face. He matched some of the many body guards of nobles around, and through some blessing not a soul had recognized him or even shot him a second glance. Perhaps Friday’s were quite a popular night for the elite to pretend, that or he’d gotten better at blending in. He didn’t know which to put his money on.

Someone, however, caught all of the attention - including his, even when he tried to ignore the magnetic attraction tugging him towards you. Throwing your head back in a laugh, you danced along with your friend, clothing absolutely sinful and fitting right in. He loved it. Every part of your energy felt like it was tugging at him, urging him closer, closer, closer, and he realized just how dangerous that made you.

Dangerous to him, and to yourself through him.

No matter what, she hung over him like a storm cloud.

Anything he might try to pursue with you would end before it could truly began, love or relationship cut off at its knees without a chance to truly blossom. Did he actually want it to? Could Fenrys actually be that selfish?

Yes, if it came to you. He glanced down at his pint. Still half full, and rather weak shit. He wasn’t drunk but still managed to think complete nonsense. Nothing could happen, but for now he supposed it couldn’t hurt to imagine a fantasy life with a stranger he’d never see again live in the corner of his mind, so long as it it stayed there. He was so, so wrong.

Lorcan Salvaterre knew about sacrifice. In fact, he was an expert at it, at this point. But, every bit was worth it for her. His Queen. The only female he’d truly loved to the point where he’d do anything and everything.

Perhaps other love could have come his way, but it had never been the right time. Timing, in his opinion, shouldn’t matter. He’d always make the time for Maeve, and everything he’d done since meeting her had been for her. When she ordered him away, he left. When she kept him by her side - but never her bed - he stayed. Maeve said jump, he asked how high.

That's why Lorcan was trying to figure out when in Hellas he’d become so disillusioned, starting thinking things so unlike him. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell anyone. Lorcan didn’t have any friends or confidants, that wasn’t something he dealt in. To him, there was no purpose in friends when his entire life’s purpose was bound by blood to servitude.

The closest thing he had to friends was his blood brothers, and like hell he’d ever tell them of this ... treachery waging war inside of his mind.

Lunch swirled unpleasantly in his stomach as he thought of the word. Treason.

When Maeve called him to the throne room, when he knelt before her, he mentally prepared himself for his immortal life to end rather early. She must know. She always knows.

Instead, he needed to figure out how he’d pissed her off because she’d sent him off for some kind of torturous punishment. Keeping an eye on Fenrys, currently loose in Varese.

“Anything I should watch out for in particular, majesty?” He was quite proud of how he kept the bitterness from his tone. Or thought he did.

“You’ll know if you see something off,” she dismissed him with a wave. “Consider it a vacation, of sorts.”

Blood sworn didn’t get vacations, he wanted to protest. He didn’t want - or need one. Had he really been slacking that much? The journey would provide adequate time for reflection, for him to dissect and figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong so he could prevent those mistakes in the future. That was essential. This trip however, like most things with Fenrys, would probably turn out to be a complete waste of his time. Time that could be spent doing much better things. But ... he supposed if this is what his Queen wanted him to do, it was exactly what he’d be doing, regardless of his feelings on the subject. His feeling always had been, and always would be inconsequential.

He was here. Already. Fuck.

It was day 2, and you couldn’t catch a break. Is there such thing as a resting life? One where you could go through without any relationships, just peace and enjoying your moments of solitude? No, not for someone like you.

Running away from them never worked, they would haunt your every movement until they consumed every last bit of you and scattered crumbs on the wind, only for the crumbs to reform and drag you back towards them.

Do you embrace fate or run away from it? It was inevitable, what was the point in fighting anymore? You were so tired of it. Exhaustion rippled from you in waves, you were surprised everyone around you hadn’t noticed as soon as you walked in.

Even if you wanted to, Fate, in the form of the most gorgeous man to exist, all bronze skin, onyx eyes, and golden hair, didn’t give you a choice. He slid into the bar stool next to you.

You didn’t smile, at first, but your traitorous heart warmed in his presence.

“Have we met before?” He said, jokingly.

If only he knew.

“Maybe in your dreams,” you slid your hand across the bar and grabbed your glass, drinking deeply. He winced.

“Am I that bad of company?”

“You’ve been here for,” you glanced at the clock pointedly, “a minute. It has nothing to do with you.” You’d tried every approach in the past to get them to see if it would deter them enough for them to circumvent fate, but nothing worked. Each version of you was destined for tragedy with each version of them.

“That’s fair enough,” Fenrys replied. You reminded yourself you didn’t know his name.

“What do they call you?” The words came out, regardless of your internal wince, knowing you were setting him up for a ridiculous line.

“In b-”

You held a hand up and his mouth clamped shut. “No, no, none of that.”

He laughed, deep and rich, a sound you ... had you heard that laugh from him before? Perhaps not, at least not in a few lives. Recently things had been so depressing.

“I like you,” he nudged you gently with his elbow, your heart ached.

not again not again not again.

‘Yes,’ a cruel voice from red lips whispered in your mind, ‘again, again, again. Forever. This is what you deserve.’

Someone cleared their throat. Fenrys.

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing at the bottom of your nearly empty glass. Empty. Fuck. You couldn’t handle this sober. Were you sober? Your friends were long gone, all found partners for the night while you nursed your worries at the bar. “What’s your name?” You took the last sip of your drink as the last syllable left your lips, ideally it could hide any signs of a lie from him.

“Fenrys,” he leaned back enough in his stool to extend his arm to you, rather formally. When you placed your hand in his, intending to squeeze it to death, he deftly rearranged your hands and raised your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “At your service.”

“Charmer,” you rolled your eyes but softly pulled your hand away and replied with your name.

He said your name quietly, extending the vowels, as if testing how it sounded on his tongue, how it might sound in other -

You chided yourself, pulling your mind out of the gutter. With the situation you knew he was always in, that was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. Or that he needed to be. You might not escape him, but you certainly wouldn’t do anything to make this harder on yourself. At least thats what you’re saying now.

“Last call,” the gruff barman said, scowling at Fenrys before shooting you a smile. Your mind rattled through details. Right, you regularly shut this tavern down and always left a good tip.

You leaned over to Fenrys and whispered low so the other male couldn’t hear, “he’s easy to win over. A good tip, manners, and easy orders.”

Fenrys hid his snort in his drink, draining the last droplets. “Thank you for the advice, love,” he whispered conspiratorially. Asshole.

“Whatever,” you mumbled and left your usual amount, sliding off the stool. Just because you were fated to make each other’s lives hell didn’t mean you had to deal with him being rude. Maybe you were just sensitive.

A ‘wait’ followed you but you ignored it. Inevitable.

He caught up to you on the street, calling your name again.

Something else struck you. He was alone in Varese. When did this happen? This was odd. Out of all of your lifetimes nothing had followed this pattern, never meeting so quickly and certainly not with Fenrys on his own with his leash rather loose for what the bitch prefers. You needed to figure out more.

“Want to come back to my place for a drink?” You said, slowly turning to look at him.

If he was surprised by your quick change of tune, he didn’t say a thing, only nodding and linking your arms together. Like he��d been waiting for a friend. The pain in your chest was physical as much as it was emotional.

Lorcan was here to keep an eye on Fenrys, and if that meant sitting in the shadows on a rooftop, peering through a beautiful female’s stupidly open window then so be it. You walked around and even acted like you didn’t give a damn whether you lived or died, but he could tell you were smart, based on how you’d handled Fenrys.

He’d ended enough lives to have an appreciation for it, and the way you were so gods-damned careless with yours pissed him off.

Lorcan should be questioning why his feelings towards you are so strong, but instead he’s observing every little detail of the interactions between you and Fenrys. For his report, of course. He always paid attention to detail, there was no other reason than being thorough. At least he kept telling himself that.

It wasn’t because he liked the way your hair moved, or how you rolled your eyes frequently at his blood-sworn brother, followed by a barely there smile that he only noticed because the shadows danced around it, as if you repelled the darkness.

Maybe you could repel the darkness in him.

What. The. Fuck.

Lorcan hadn’t drank, and even if he had he never entertained thoughts like this.

Refocusing, he committed to memory every detail of what Fenrys was doing, how he reacted to you, how attached he might be and how you might already be used against him by his Queen.

An unfamiliar feeling settled in his stomach, tainting him.

Guilt.

He didn’t want to use you.

But if it came to it, he wouldn't have a choice. He never really did.

Fenrys whistled lowly on his way home, through the empty streets. Still aware of his surroundings, also aware that none would dare approach him - not with the steel and the stature he carried himself with, proof he knew how to use it.

All he’d done is sit and talk with you for hours, in fact the dawn was currently beginning to crest over the city. Hours of sitting and talking felt like mere minutes with you, and he found he had more fun in that time than he had in years, perhaps decades, perhaps since entering Maeve’s service.

It was sad, really, that you could only be a temporary fixture, for your own safety.

Still, his mind rattled with ways to do the impossible, with how he could be with you forever without ... it was useless, really, to even ponder it. The false hope and ideas would only taint the present he had, for however long Maeve let him stay here in his ... his fantasy, he supposed.

He could imagine many fantasies with you involved but the biggest was your friendship. The way you hadn’t hit on him, made any kind of sexual innuendos or advances, thats why he followed you out of the bar. Because you made him comfortable in a way nobody else had in so, so long. Like you’d been doing it for lifetimes.

The scent hit him. The male wanted him to know he was there. His entire body stiffened, posture straightened slightly, pleasant after buzz from your intoxicating presence gone just like that.

Lorcan Salvaterre. His commander.

“Who was that?” Lorcan wasted no time and matched pace with him.

“None of your business,” Fenrys snapped. Aware that he could be punished for it, but he didn’t care, he looked the male right in the eyes.

Lorcan ... Lorcan didn’t push him. At all. Instead, something like understanding passed through his eyes. Had Lorcan needed to protect someone from Maeve before?

Probably not. He was a cold hearted bastard through and through.

“Keep her away,” the words were whispered on the wind - there and gone. Just like Lorcan, who melted into the shadows.

Away from who? Lorcan didn’t say ‘keep away from her,’ and Fenrys knew everything the bastard did was intentional.

Lorcan Salvaterre was here. You knew it, having caught the faintest hint of his unfortunately familiar scent, trailing after you like a hound.

The fact that he was following you made you nervous. Yes, similar situations had occured before but everything about this time seemed so different that it filled you with mixed emotions.

What are the odds there’s actually something good in store for you? Slim, you decided, based on history and reasoning, and you knew Lorcan Salvaterre stalking anyone was bad news, but especially for you when you had ... history with the Queen he so lovingly served.

Someone whose head deserved to be ripped right from her neck, you cast the thought into the universe and hoped it landed, hoped she felt a phantom prick in the side of her neck.

Maybe she regretted cursing you to some kind of eternal half existence, always in and out of different worlds. Doubtful. More likely she tired of whatever game she decided to play for you and set the person who she knew would hurt the most to kill you. Even you could admit you were extrapolating.

Maybe an attitude change could fix everything. A tad less drama.

You glanced out the window, at the rain currently pouring down, at the moisture leaking into your apartment. The weather certainly didn’t match up for life changes, if anything it read of staying right where you were.

Accepting it wouldn’t happen today, you saved the attitude change for the next sunny day. Those practically screamed change in fortune. Or you hoped they did.

A week passed. You saw Fenrys each night at the Tavern, and scented a weirdly careless Lorcan on your trail each day.

Your attitude may not have changed with the next bout of sunshine, but you had a plan. It was rather simple, to somehow draw Lorcan out. However, there was a difference between having a plan and knowing how to execute it. You supposed that made your plan an idea more than anything.

Fenrys had mentioned business meetings he’d be attending one night, and you decided that was the perfect to do it. The perfect night to pretend to get sloshed, and you had the help of your favorite barkeep.

Knowing Lorcan, he probably had questions for you, and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to get some answers while your inhibitions were ‘lowered.’ Arrogant males like him wouldn’t let opportunities slide by, but Lorcan Salvaterre stayed Maeve’s commander for a reason, and you knew your acting skills had to be top notch to keep him from becoming suspicious.

“When will you stop pretending to drink those?” Lorcan asked gruffly as he slid into the stool next to you, his hulking frame towering over the bar and casting a shadow over you. You were a good actress, but he was better, and caught on after the first couple of drinks and exchanged looks between you and the barkeep, who you were on very friendly terms with.

The obsession with you, the flares of irrational anger when another man trailed too close, Lorcan knew what this was, and knew he was screwing both of you over with it. Fated for misery and doom, no matter how the cards played out. He’d be stuck with her, Lorcan noted how she was demoted in his mind, and you’d be ... free.

All those years he’d spent making fun of those males now served to make him feel like a lot of an asshole because he gotit. There was a crack in his armor, a weakness in his resolve, and nobody knew about it. He intended to keep it that way until you were far, far away from him and his ... his Queen, and then as long as possible after that. His stomach clenched at the thought of what she might do to you in order to help keep him in line. Nothing good, and everything bad.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered primly, turning away from him. Why had he come over here again?

He laughed, low and harshly. “Sure you don’t, sweetheart,” he exaggerated the last word - turning it into an insult. It didn’t feel right. His entire being flared against any insult to you, even coming from him.

But ... the little flash of anger in your eyes, the way your nostrils flared, that was amusing. He liked the fire in you. “What did you call me?”

He shrugged.

You scoffed, muttering an insult he chose to ignore under your breath. “Nothing to say to that one?” You pushed when he didn’t answer, letting your elbow brush against his, “I thought it was creative. If you need me to I can keep going, there’s plenty where it came from.”

“It was well done,” perhaps he wasn’t particularly in the mood to be insulted all night, and he got the sense you were more than capable of doing just that.

“Well done,” you echoed, and he nodded. Your mouth curled into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

In the future, you might just deny it ever happened, but Lorcan Salvaterre ended up in your apartment that night. You ignored the fact that he seemed to know the way there. There had always been plenty you were willing to ignore when it came to that male, and that hadn’t changed over the last however many lives.

Once Lorcan - once he’d found his Queen, you’d been second. But before that, he’d made you his everything. You never could blame him for leading you to beg Maeve that first time, that cursed time.

Still, on the nights when you were alone, when the rain or a pretty mountain outline reminded you of him, when everything felt too much, it was easier to pin it on him, even if it made you a horrible person. Horrible, even for an ex-lover, but then again you were always an expert at self-depreciation.

Looking at the male now, like a statue of a God carved from granite, you knew he’d be the death of you. Again. But how could you fight him? You never had the strength to in the past. Maybe you weren’t trying to survive hard enough ...

Things had never moved this quickly in the past, they’d always been at a pace just slow enough to be torturous with your knowledge of your impending doom.

Maybe this time you needed to really try.

For Lorcan. For Fenrys. But mostly, for yourself.

The door closed behind you and you slipped back into reality, into the new situation you found yourself in.

“Drink?” You asked over your shoulder, heading right for your kitchen.

He caught your hand, spinning you back towards him.

“I had something else in mind,” he said roughly, and dipped his head towards yours.

You knew he could be patient, he could be gentle, he could be kind, but you got none of that now.

His hand gripped your jaw, tight enough to keep you still but not harsh enough to hurt, his mouth moved fervently against yours as you matched his pace. It was the collision of a thousand stars, a world breaking and re-forming into something new and beautiful and wonderful. It was everything and more. It was the multiverse coming together into a single moment and screaming yes! this is what you were waiting for. He slowed, softened, as if some kind of guilt caught up with him. You wouldn’t have that. Couldn’t. You gripped the back of his hair and pulled him back closer to you, pressing your body against his.

He would be yours for the night, but little did he know you‘d already been his for eternity.

You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing, Fenrys reminded himself as he walked out of the bar, spotting you teasing Lorcan. He’d finished his business meetings early and thought he might see if you were still haunting your favorite spot at the bar.

Still, he wanted to rush up to you and ask you if you knew who the hell you were tangling with but ... he supposed he was like Lorcan in that way, one of Maeve’s Blood Sworn, and to have two of them shown publicly taking an interest in you was nothing short of deadly and he refused to subject you to that. So Fenrys left.

And hated himself for it, but self hatred was nothing new to him.

Fenrys wasn’t sure how he found Lorcan’s rooms, considering the male probably didn’t want to be found right now. Probably wanted to bask in you. Your beauty, the time he sp-

He stopped himself from thinking of it. Even thought of shifting now, to a body where emotions were simpler and didn’t drain quite so much. Fenrys rarely shifted voluntarily when away from her, not after she kept him in that form so frequently. ‘Where he was easier to deal with,’ she’d said once, and the words still stung as His Majesty, he thought the words mockingly, intended for them to.

The door swung open.

Lorcan didn’t speak, just stood there with his arms crossed and jaw clenched.

Fenrys felt young, and not in a good way. What was he? A jealous lover? Concerned friend? Idiot?

Then it hit him.

The scent.

Yours.

His.

Entwined.

Without him.

Rage, pure and strong filled him. The scent was particular, and he’d seen it just a few times before. Lorcan, intelligently, had a shield around himself before Fenrys he was on the verge of some kind of burst.

“Not fucking possible,” Fenrys backed away, “we can’t have the same mate.”

Lorcan’s eyes widened, but he was looking beyond him. Fenrys whirled around.

You.

“I can’t have a mate,” you said quietly, desperately. “I never have before,” then to yourself, “it’s never been like this,” you switched your gaze to the window, he watched you try to angle your face so they couldn’t see the tears in your eyes but they were evident. Everything was evident when it came to you.

“Get inside,” Lorcan said roughly to both of you.

He had a point, it wasn't exactly the space for this conversation. A hallway where anyone could be walking by and overhear. That’s the last thing he wanted, anything that might put you in further danger.

When he didn’t instantly move, Lorcan grabbed his shirt, tugging him inside. There was a knife at Lorcan’s throat before the male could blink.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me,” Fenrys hissed, slowly sliding the knife away and sheathing it at his side.

He was surprised his commander hadn’t caught it, but then again he was staring at a pretty female in the hallway, your gaze still distant and fixed on the window. He called your name, just loud enough to carry across the distance. Your head snapped, you blinked a few times. He tilted his head towards the room.

An over-exaggerated sigh, probably for their sake more than anything, and then you followed them inside. Each step seemed to make you shrink further into yourself, he noticed, that confidence and bravado fading and leaving someone vulnerable behind.

It took a strong hand to tamp down on instincts rising, telling him to eliminate any immediate threats to you. The main one being Lorcan, but also any other males and possibly females in the vicinity. It was absolutely ridiculous, the way he was feeling even if he wasn’t acting on it. At least he hadn’t acted on it. Yet. If only because he was well aware it would piss you off.

“What did you mean, ‘it’s never been like this?’” Lorcan asked and you read the skepticism in his eyes. Not quite distrust, but an interesting mix of confusion and concern. That had the potential to change quickly. Could you even speak about it or would you drop dead? You’d always assumed you couldn’t but ...

“I’m cursed,” you started. They exchanged a brief glance, and for some reason that irritated you, but you kept going. “We’ve met before. Many times,” you knew that would grab and probably keep their attention, at least for a little while. You held a hand up when their brows furrowed in concern, “just hear me out before you write me off as crazy.”

“I would never write you off,” Fenrys murmured, and you shot him a thankful look but he kept his mouth shut after that. Perhaps it had something to do with the glare on Lorcan’s face.

The words were difficult.

Each one felt stilted and awkward, but they watched and listened as if each word you said was pure gold and something about that made you feel powerful. They went through the emotions with you, although it was a tad more difficult to tell with Lorcan, but you struggled together in a way. For some reason, it started to feel like this might turn into a goodbye and you weren’t quite ready for that. After all, you didn’t know how anyone could stay with someone ... someone with the kind of tainted past you have.

“Why would she do that?” You finished. It a was rare chance to ask two people who probably have more insight than any others into how the mind of the Queen works, not that you believe she’d let anyone truly understand her.

“Cruelty,” Fenrys said.

The same time as Lorcan said, “jealousy.”

“Makes sense,” you huffed, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. It was stupid.

“How do you end up reincarnated?” Lorcan asked. The question you were hoping to avoid.

“I die.”

“Of old age,” Fenrys said, but didn’t sound as if he believed it.

“No,” you said sharply, exhaling. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“Try me. Believe it or not, I don’t find your death very funny,” Fenrys said dryly. Lorcan was watching with apt attention, eyes watching you like a hawk.

“Heartbreak,” you grunted, quickly whirling towards - fuck. You’d meant to look out the window, but saw the mirror instead and the twin faces of horror behind you struck something deep inside of your heart.

“I -” your throat closed up, the words not quite getting out.

“What is it?” Fenrys curled his fingers inward, and despite a slight internal cringe you let him beckon you, let him take your hands, let him give you this kind of comfort.

“I wish you remembered,” you whispered, glancing at Lorcan too, who’s eyes and face told you, yes he knew you were changing the subject, and no the conversation was not over yet.

“I don’t -,” Lorcan Salvaterre stumbled over his words, perhaps for the first time in his life, “I don’t mind making new memories, as long as they’re with you.”

You beamed. Fenrys laughed. He debated how upset you would be if he killed the other male.

Other male.

He knew, already, that he’d have to share you.

For you, Lorcan could and would make anything work. You were worth everything, absolutely everything.

Maeve, a voice whispered in his mind. He pushed it down, ignored it for now. That was an ... his Queen would never be an issue, but a situation he could deal with at a later date.

He swore to himself he’d never make fun of a mated male again. Technically he wasn’t mated yet, but he would be ... soon, he had to be. Being your mate felt like an irrevocably necessary part of his soul, like he might die without it, without having that bond with you to tether him to this world and give him meaning. Meaning he’d been lacking his entire life.

He didn’t know or care if Fenrys felt the same way but he supposed he should. He had an obligation to his mate’s mate, after all, outside of the fact that Fenrys is his bloodsworn brother.

Bloodsworn.

His bones and blood chilled. He couldn’t be yours, not really. The realization threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry, not here - not in front of you. You needed him strong.

He stood, abruptly, but didn’t care. He jerked his chin to Fenrys. “We need to talk,” he let his eyes say the rest.

He found he didn’t like how some of the shine left Fenrys’s, how they dulled at the implication of their Queen’s existence. Too bad, for now.

“Great. Secrets,” you muttered, and a slight smile threatened his lips, but you still waved them away. Perhaps you understood secrets better than anyone else.

Lorcan led Fenrys to an adjacent room, and their shields went up at the same time. To keep any nosy females from overhearing. The more she knew, the more danger she was in. At least they were on the same page.

“Where is safe for her?” Fenrys started.

At least he had his priorities straight.

“Antica,” Lorcan answered. Maeve didn’t dare touch the southern continent, yet. “For now,” he added for honesty’s sake. “The curse won’t break until Maeve is ...” He didn’t, couldn’t bring himself to, speak the words out loud, it felt too much like treason.

“Dead,” Fenrys said for him. He had no problem with it, apparently. If Lorcan had been as insolent as the male in front of him, he would’ve been put to death long ago, and he knew that. Perhaps Fenrys didn’t, but it wasn’t the time for that conversation. “So we spirit her away, and then what? How do we keep her from dying?”

“A blood promise.”

“Like what?” Fenrys leaned back against the wall, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“When the curse is broken, we will find her.”

Antica. Hot, miserable, mate-less Antica. In truth, it wasn’t that miserable, but you'd be enjoying yourself a lot more if your mates hadn’t shipped you off here as quickly as they could.

All in the name of keeping you ‘safe,’ you grimaced in the mirror, brushing down your hair, now frizzy slightly from the rare rain that breezed in the day before. They're and gone like a phantom, almost. Almost like their presences in your life.

You could still remember their touches from that last night, firm but gentle, still tentative like new lovers can be. You thought you knew everything about their touch from the past, but even they kept some surprises across multi-verses, or maybe it had just been a while since it had been the three of you and your memory was getting poorer.

Probably that.

You pushed the door open, throwing yourself into the throng of people making their way to the one of the several monthly markets in the city. Throng of people, you thought. It was awfully busy.

‘War,’

‘Sending us-’

‘Saved the princess,’

‘Foreign lord.’

The whispers hit your ears one by one like a drum. A war. Against who?

You stopped casually at the closest table, and sure enough the seller was chittering to the person who came before you about it. A war, and the khaganate would be marching for Aelin Galathynius.

You rolled the name over on your tongue, it being vaguely familiar. Perhaps you should have kept up more with politics throughout the ages, you probably could’ve made a load of money betting, but that felt a tad too immoral, and you did fear the judgement of your own conscience.

As soon as the intrigue was there, it was gone. You’d heard of several wars over the last two decades, the longest you'd lived so far, and none of them had brought your mates back to you. You seriously doubted this would be the one.

You refused to acknowledge the ugly truth. They’d probably already forgotten about you.

In the lonely and mindless hours stuck in his Wolf form, Fenrys thought of the beautiful female in Antica, and dreamed of a life without Maeve, however impossible it was he never stopped hoping.

The female screamed on the table in front of him, but he was frozen in time and space. All he could do right now was bear witness to the horrible crime in front of him. Aelin Galathynius deserved someone to bear witness to her pain and her strength.

The female who should’ve been his Queen, and the female who was his mate had so much in common. Not necessarily appearance, but your attitude and the way you carried themselves. So much that being with her for those months had felt like an even larger blessing. It wasn’t infidelity, not by any means, but perhaps a bit wrong he was using Aelin as a proxy for you.

The screams in front of him distracted him from his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. She’d passed out, he was waking her with some foul smelling cloth. Each day, he thought he’d reached the limits of what he could bear without closing his eyes, but somehow - because he knew you would do it - he managed to watch. Witness. Wait. It was all he could do now.

Lorcan Salvaterre knew he was a miserable male to be around, but traveling through Varese had turned him downright sour. At least internally.

He knew he needed to get to Aelin, and he knew he needed to get to Fenrys. For the bond they shared with each other that they’d never told a soul about. If he didn’t get to him, you’d never ever forgive him.

He might be too much off a coward to tell you, but he would know in his soul and that’s enough. He’d find Fenrys, get her away from him, do whatever it took.

You woke up one morning with an unusual lightness, a ‘pep’ in your step, so to speak. You’d never understood that phrase until then, when you felt like all of your burdens and issues had been freed in a spare moment, like nothing could weigh you down right then.

As usual, you got your gossip through the market, and it all made sense.

Doranelle has a new Queen.

Queen Maeve was killed in Terrasen.

You were free.

You tilted your head up towards the sky, and let the sun shine down on your face, not caring you were stopped in the middle of the park. From the corner of your eye you spotted an older woman copying your movements, not in a mocking way, but in a yes the sun is quite nice today way.

The flip side of your freedom meant your mates would be coming soon. They’d be coming soon.

To Antica.

To you.

You scrambled back to your apartment to start packing. How long did it take to get from Terrasen here?

You paused halfway through throwing your closet onto your bed.

A letter would’ve arrived by now, but you’d received no such thing.

That night you fell asleep on top of your clothes.

The next day you built the courage to put them away.

You didn’t know where in the world they were now that Maeve is gone, and perhaps with the curse lifting they felt they no longer were obligated to be with you and love you, and maybe -

A familiar scent hit the same time as a knock on your door.

You rushed to it, throwing it open finding ...

Both of them. Your mouth parted, words not quite leaving your lips. Finally, you managed a lame, “you came.”

“We promised,” Lorcan said “Can we come in?”

Yes, they obviously could, you swung the door wider and ushered them inside.

“We came as soon as we could,” Fenrys promised.

The silence was awkward for a few moments as the three of you tried to figure out how to navigate this. But, it was easy enough to break as you threw yourself at both of them, managing to catch each of them in a hug at the same time.

“I forgot to tell you before I left,” you started, muffled in the shirts but knew they heard you. You’d memorized these words long ago. “I spent so long looking for all of the things that would kill me, I forgot the ones that made me feel alive. Both of you made me feel alive. Thank you.”

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam x y/n #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan salvaterre x y/n #fenrys x y/n #fenrys x reader #lorcan x y/n #lorcan x reader #fenrys x reader x lorcan #lorcan x reader x fenrys

81 notes · View notes

sable-skies · 3 months ago

Text

thought abt an au i doodled up months ago but never fully explored, so here's some concept designs for that. im gonna ramble about it now

+ height comparison under the keep reading!

god okay i gotta admit: i, unfortunately, kinda love game of thrones. truthfully i dont care for the sex and inc*st part of the show, but i really enjoy the interconnected weaving plot lines, drama, and utter bullshit that happens in that show. its amazing, i love it, its so fucking stupid. so earlier this year i doodled up some ideas for a game of thrones inspired post-totk au. those are here, and here!

I then dropped it and didnt return to it until now, because i started season 2 of house of the dragon and yknow. why not.

as for actual details about the au: i said in the past it was a got-loz au, but im gonna go ahead and say that i misspoke then because i mean more like, post-totk/loz au INSPIRED by got, because i would never want to do a 1-to-1 au of that god awful show. i mostly think exploring a hyrule that is peaceful, but secretly on the brink of civil chaos and how bad humanity could truly get would be really fun to explore!

i struggled to pick a single role for link to have in such an au, so i said fuck it and divided him up into four parts, in universe the hero's spirit has been split amongst four brothers. to nod towards this, and because i'm cheeky as hell, the first letters of each of their names spells link. Laurent, Irving, Nymos, and Kiran. (im so fucking funny (<- is not funny))

they're all noble born to Arthur Hearth, current lord of House Hearth which basically controls and sits on the Great Plateau, and their mother was Eyla, a member of the Sheikah from Kakariko Village who unfortunately passed away shortly after Kiran was born. Arthur btw is named after the King Arthur legends from Europe, as those served as inspiration for the series in general!

I think a plot would follow them all after the death of their father and how they cope with it and move forward, and how they combat suddenly being labeled traitors to the kingdom for their father's acclaimed crimes.

this is getting long, so I'll do some misc bullet points next on their personalities:

Laurent, as the oldest, had to mature pretty quickly after the death of their mother, Eyla. Which has caused him to grow protective of his younger brothers almost to an overbearing degree. He gets nervous when they're not home, which sucks because Irving is a knight, Nymos studies in Kakariko often, and Kiran wants to explore the world via the survey team. Other then that, he's responsible, quite serious in most situations, and still very kind hearted. After his father's death he starts to spiral into a rage-filled depression, determined to get his brothers back and make the king pay for killing his father.

Irving is the most middle child ever. Due to Laurent being in line for lord of their house and is never gonna back down from that, he sought his own purpose in being a royal knight / royal guardsman / kingsguard. It hasn't really worked out well for him honestly, his higher ups hate him for being Arthur's son, seemingly so naturally talented in combat, and charismatic amongst the ranks that some knights ignore their orders just to follow Irving's instead. So as punishment he's been assigned as the former princess Zelda's bodyguard / retainer. While it disappointed him to not serve his full duties at first, he's come to accept it and treats her kindly. He's proud, a little over-confident, just, and secretly a bleeding heart. After the death of their father, he's forced to choose between his family and Zelda, and knowing that Zelda will most likely die without him, he stays with her.

Nymos, oh poor fucking Nymos dude. As a child he fell into the depths and somehow survived, which was fine, but then he came across a patch of gloom that seemingly never faded, and ever since he's been cursed with doomed visions of the future and a talent for magic. No one believes him about the lingering gloom, and claims that he simply has PTSD from the incident in general, but he knows what he saw. He's sought out magical-based physical therapy in Kakariko because of this, and he's pretty much regarded as a local there. He's quiet, a bit withdrawn, pessimistic, but has a strong sense of justice and genuinely wants the best for those around him, even if he doesn't know how to say it properly. When Laurent and Irving are away, he's the one looking after Kiran and keeping him safe. When his father dies, he immediately starts to investigate the current monarchy for signs of dark magic tampering, which leads him down a rabbit hole he never even knew existed, all the while he's being tormented by visions of his brother dying gruesome and horrible deaths. he's forever an internal nervous WRECK

Kiran!! The baby!! Might be the most dangerous brother of the four, but we'll cover that later. As the resident youngest sibling he's naturally gotten away with pretty much everything and anything, because who can say no to those big baby blues. Thankfully he's not actually that destructive or ill-mannered, but he isn't above pulling a prank on someone for the fun of it. He yearns to leave home and explore the vast continent of Hyrule though, and shortly before everything goes wrong he's accepted into the Survey Team and gets to enjoy it for a bit. He's excitable, energetic, optimistic, and somewhat a handful (get this teen a child leash please) but he means well and is determined to get whatever is on his mind done and finished. He's the last to be told his father is dead as his team didn't tell him about the incident until suddenly there's a group of bandits attacking them and demanding they had Kiran over for ransom. Kiran goes willingly of course, as he doesn't want his team members to get hurt. He later falls into the depths and survives via the sail cloth around his shoulders and meets a strange little fox he calls Todd.

I have so many notes in my head about these guys but again, i'll shut up for now :] here are the heights!

btw; they're all based on a previous incarnation of link and a got character, if you figure it out I'll shake ur hand.

#.png #post totk au #loz au #loz #legend of zelda #totk au #link #link loz #breath of the wild #tears of the kingdom #idk if i'll come up with a name for this au #maybe but who knows

66 notes · View notes

kisskiss-slashslash · 2 months ago

Note

hi! i'm a fan of your work and wanted to request the slashers with a winx fairy s/o. just something about murders with a sparkly fairy lover is funny to me. you need sparkles to cover up the blood ig

Oh this is a fun one, especially because I also love Winx Club <3

Slashers with a Winx Fairy s/o

Jason Voorhees

While he is mildly put off by how… revealing these fairy outfits tend to be, he is also strangely fascinated by all the things you can do. You wouldn't happen to be able to revive his mom for him? No? Oh well, it was worth asking. But overall, your magic makes surviving out in the wild with him so much easier.

Vincent Sinclair

He wouldn't believe it if he hadn't already seen you use your magic. And he quite appreciates your transformations. From a purely aesthetic and artistic standpoint, that is (cough cough).

Freddy Krueger

Freddy would actually be the most curious about your magic. How would it measure up against his dream powers? What can you do in this realm where he has all the power, and can you undo the changes he makes to dreams? More importantly, how can this magic be used for killing? He would actually find murder with a side of fairy dust quite entertaining and encourage you to add some extra sparkle to his kills.

Bubba Sawyer

He instantly adores everything about your fairy forms and magic powers. Can you add some sparkle to his clothes, his mask, his home? Drayton may have a thing or two to say about that last part, but Bubba is absolutely thrilled. And not only that, your magic is also so helpful when it comes to chores! No more spending hours mopping the blood-soaked floors or trying to scrub dark red stains out of furniture. It leaves both of you with much more time for each other!

Brahms Heelshire

Being a fairy while living with Brahms is an incredible advantage. Brahms is having one of his outbursts? You have developed a shield spell to put around him that you affectionately call "The Tantrum Bubble", where he can get all his rage off his chest without causing any damage.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x reader

59 notes · View notes

brainjvice · 3 months ago

Text

Yapping about Kaiser (again)

No because I was thinking about Kaiser's narcissistic traits and how fucking SPOT ON they are its insane.

The hierarchy. The fact kaiser thinks in hierarchies. And its shown pretty explicitly via that one panel of noa and isagi on the stairs and Kaiser looking at them from below after his delusions got shattered.

That + him perceiving(!) Ness as a dog because he is inferior in his hierarchy scale.

And this is such a dismissed trait yet it's The most important when it comes to how narcissistic people navigate interpersonal relationships.

There's always someone inferior. There may be someone superior, too. Unless you're delusional enough. Then you're actually God.

And to think Ness is the main enabler* of those "delusions", esp when it comes to grandiosity, another narcissistic trait Kaiser displays.

*specifying i am not victim blaming Ness

Without Kaiser taking advantage of his fragility, without Ness grabbing onto the single spark that Kaiser had shown him (via... calling him a loser? Lmfao), the kaiser-centric system in bm would not exist.

So Kaiser went from being dismissed by the whole team due to his antisocial behavior/inability to navigate the "human" world to being praised non-stop and considered the fundamental player in their team.

Considering how Kaiser has never received love or recognition beforehand, he got lost in it and got greedy. Kaiser pre chara development is just your local feral stray cat who you adopted and now believes he is the king of the house. I seriously do not blame him for that ngl.

(Esp since he Is a good player. So his delusions werent actually that delusional yk.)

He does think he is The shit though, except at the time he was a v static player. He got too comfortable in the security of ness' passes, too dependent on it, which made his game more predictable and didn't let him evolve to reach his full potential.

I think, with time, his grandiosity may fade a bit, since to me it was strictly linked to Ness and the kaiser-centric system used by BM. That + it is a double edged sword, since it actually slows you down into becoming your better self. If you alreadythibk you're the greatest, there's not much room left for development.

And Kaiser is smart and is actually quite self conscious enough to not fall in past mistakes, not now that he has finally gotten the grasps of how to become a better player. He is a pro when it comes to survival, after all.

So yeah, grandiosity is def not Kaiser's main trait imo. The hierarchy, his callousness and his sadism (his malice) are probably more "pronounced" in his personality, although neither callousness nor sadism are inherently linked to narcissism.

Now, as I just said, sadism is common in people who display narcissistic behaviour but its not inherently narcissistic. It may be linked to antisociality, as well as trauma or repressed rage.

Kaiser, who's been unable to react to his father's abuse for YEARS, has, in fact, more than a decade worth of repressed rage. Except – once again – he does not rebel to whom he considers stronger/superior in his hierarchy.

In this case he sorta acts like your typical bully. Can't react towards an "authority" so he picks on weaker/inferior people. Kaiser feasts on them. But of course, there's no satisfaction into crushing npcs, yk. Hence all that disney villain type of monologue about how Isagi was finally big enough to devour (gay methinks, but thats not the point). Again. Big enough to get the sadistic satisfaction of crushing him but not too big, at least in Kaiser's mind.

(Except karma is a bitch and so is Isagi.)

Also. Can I say that I love how when Kaiser is not masking, he is the literal definition of the person standing emoji. Which is kinda funny but its actually so fucking real. Whoever has experienced dissociation, depersonalisation or derealization knows the drill. And dissociative disorders are sooo so common when it comes to trauma, esp when it comes to physical abuse. Kaiser's perception of his own body is probably so messed up. He got beat up till he bled like almost every day. Kaiser's body was for his father to use as a punching ball for YEARS. Since he was a CHILD.

So, of course, the second kaiser got actual autonomy on his body (for the first time ever!!!) he asked for a tattoo. Because now he gets to customise it as a way to make it his own.

It's his body now.

Also, his lack of empathy/callousness absolutely comes from trauma. Living in a violent environment, being forced to use your reptilian brain 24/7 does not do well to a child, and definitely doesn't help the correct development of certain parts of your brain when it comes to emotions. And Kaiser is still on survival mode.

Tbh. Kaiser's cptsd is severe and deeply intertwined in his personality and how he acts and lives. Even the hierarchy trait is strictly linked to his childhood: eat or get eaten. His father treated him like an extension of himself, a worthless object.

His ability to read people and to recognise Ness as easy prey probably comes from when he used to steal from people. You know, you need to learn quickly how to spot certain patterns and find the perfect victim to rob. He is used to analyse and read people. He just lacked the ability to manipulate since his experiences with people were limited.

I'm gonna be honest he would be a difficult patient to properly diagnose, considering his backstory. C-ptsd is the only thing I'm certain of.

((I think if his mental state ever becomes a nuisance in Kaiser's plan to become his best version, he would resort to therapy.))

((Much to think about but now im tired so i will end this here))

#blue lock #michael kaiser #bllk #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #character analysis #blue lock analysis #miche yaps #now i can go to sleep peacefully

103 notes · View notes

mika-no-sekai-blog · 5 months ago

Text

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: swearing, otherwise mostly fluff

Part XXVI | Part XXVIII

Next few days it rained just as Tamlin had predicted. Thanks to him you had enough food, the only problem was the fast running out herbs. Not wanting to go out, it was a great chance to practice your magic abilities. High Lord always sat down with you, watching over you. Whenever you had trouble, he offered advice. It wasn't easy after so many years of not using your powers, but it was fun and the two of you laughed a lot when things didn't turn the way you wanted them.

Except of that there was nothing much to do. You couldn't go out and moreover as a result of your reckless run in the rain you caught a cold, so looking out the window and wishing the downpour finally stopped was all you were allowed to do.

Tamlin banned you from the kitchen, making you sit whole day in front of the hearth while he took care of everything. Including you. He wouldn't even let you go up the stairs on your own. You suspected that if he wanted he could cure you with a single snap of fingers, but for some reason he didn't want to. But you couldn't complain at all.

It was pleasant to have somebody to care for you, especially when they did it with such love. Every refilling of your mug was accompanied by kiss on crown of your head and kind smile. Every fixing of the blanket or handing you a book, got you a soft, sweet kiss on cheek and gentle caress. No need to say that you actually spent more time sitting on his lap than on your own. Your chest swelled every time Tamlin slipped into your armchair, pulling you to his strong body.

Bad weather also gave you a lot of time to talk, to really talk about things that bothered you. You patiently listened to his life story, about his family, years in father's army and everything that hurt him while Amarantha pushed him to sacrifice his friends, made him watch the death of so many innocent lives right before his eyes and then just for fun tortured girl he liked and even killed her. He told you about what happened after Amarantha died, all the nightmares that haunted him for months, the echo of the crack of neck that followed him every second of every day. He intentionally skipped the part about your brother being an ass, but you already heard about it from Feyre.

You knew he didn't want you to pity him and you tried not to, but it was hard. You reassured him that he did all he could to protect his Court and held him when you were short for words.

When it was your turn to share pieces of you, well, you didn't have much to say. Your family wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as bad as Tamlin's. Your mother, cousin, brother and his friends made sure you had a quite happy childhood and the only really bad, traumatic thing that happened to you, was the night you lost your mother and your memories.

"Tamlin, I want to thank you," you whispered into the crook of his neck when your tears finally dried. He was gently rocking you while drawing circles on your back with his warm hand. "If it wasn't for you, I would be dead."

He shook his head dismissively. His body was tense as you shared what you saw that night, his jaw still clenched, tips of his claws slightly jabbing the skin of your hip where he held you. You couldn't see his face from this angle, but you could imagine his frown, cold emerald eyes full of hate and rage gazing into the dancing flames. He looked like that when he told you about his father and brothers. All those years when he tried not to get in their way, keeping it low to survive, left a lot of hatred and anger in him. "I could do more. I-"

"You did enough," you stopped him. "I'm alive just because you were there. You aren't responsible for whatever happened to me afterwards."

He looked down at you in disbelieve. "I knew they had somebody in dungeons. I should have done something, help you escape."

"I thought that we already talked about this, but never mind," you spoke calmly with a soft sigh. "Let's say you went down there and helped me get out. What would have happened to you after that? They would have punished you or even worse."

He leaned to the side, putting as much distance as possible in between you which wasn't much in your current position. His hands fell to armrests, claws fully slid out. "It doesn't matter what they would have done to me."

"It matters..a lot.. To me, it matters.."

He watched you out of the corner of his eye and then sighing pulled you into another hug. He looked defeated.

"We can't change the past, Tamlin. But I'm glad you didn't go down there to find out what your father was up to. If you did, I might have never met you again. And we wouldn't be here now, holding each other."

At that moment air crackled with static energy and Rhysand winnowed in.

"Horrible weather," he grunted, shaking drops of rain from his cloak. Last few days he was too busy and only sent you messages. You didn't expect him to appear anytime soon.

Rhys looked around, his gaze fell to you watching him with wide eyes from Tamlin's lap. He froze in shock, his face colour changing from warm tanned to white and then to red.

"Hands off of my sister," he hissed. "Just a few days! I don't show up for few fucking days and you already dare to touch her? Like this?"

Tamlin sighed looking away and without a word began to gently push you from his lap so he could stand up. You knew he couldn't stand your brother's visits and rather disappeared on the second floor, but you needed to put a stop to this stupid situation. You clung to him, holding him in place. He raised a brow at you, but you only smiled at him.

"You didn't knock," you said in sweet voice to Rhysand whose eyes were jumping between you and High Lord of Spring.

"What?" He sputtered angrily.

"Do you remember when we talked about finding happiness?" You were calm as you looked up at him. His talons scratched the walls around your mind and you let him in.

What does this mean, sweetheart? I'd love you to stand up. Now.

Rhys, I'm happy.

You could feel flush spreading on your cheeks. Talking about this kind of feelings was something you'd never done with your brother nor he mentioned his lovers to you in the past. It was probably the only border you two kept intact.

What?! With him? You can't be serious. If you want a High Lord we can try to figure something out. But you.. and him.. Rhys' voice in your head was almost pleading.

I don't want a High Lord. I don't care about such things at all and you know that very well. I-.. I have feelings for him, Rhys. Do you.. understand? He might be my happy ending.

Admitting this much, you were too shy to even look your brother in eyes.

Meanwhile Tamlin stayed still, watching you with concern. Hands that he respectively put on armrests in presence of your brother, inched closer.

"Everything okay?" he murmured, so only you heard him. You nodded.

Rhysand left your mind and silently considered something. Hands at his sides curled into fists, his knuckles white.

"Can I have a word with you?" he asked Tamlin after a while. He frowned at him, but nodded. This time you let him stand up, watching as the two stepped out into the rain. You couldn't help it and sneaked closer to the front door. Through window you could see Rhysand pacing in the rain back and forth, fingers running through his already damp hair. Tamlin stood on doorstep, arms crossed on his chest, his back to you.

Rhysand stopped pacing and turned to him. "Do you like her?"

Tamlin nodded.

"C'mon," Rhys grunted, rolling his eyes. "I mean, do you really like her? No games, no.. getting back on me or something like that..?"

He again only nodded, no words. Rhysand stared him down, gritting his teeth.

"I love her, Rhysand," Tamlin finally spoke so lowly you almost didn't hear him over the sound of rain. "She is my everything."

Your heart swelled. He said that he loved you. Aloud. You talked a lot these last few days, but except of the 'I like you' he told you before, he hadn't expressed his feelings so directly. It was all just small lovely gestures here, soft kisses everywhere except of your lips there. Hearing him to express his feelings so openly brought tears to your eyes.

"I really hope you mean it," Rhysand snarled threateningly. "If you ever even try to think about hurting her-"

"I know. You'll find a way to revenge. I already heard that once before."

In a blink of eye Rhys stood in front of Tamlin, fisting the front of his shirt. His violet-blue eyes shone dangerously. "I'm not joking. Your kin already took me whole my family. She is the only one left. I won't silently watch her being used, hurt and thrown away by any male."

"I will never do any of that," Tamlin hissed in answer, his chest vibrating with growl, but otherwise he hadn't moved an inch, glaring down on your brother. He was just a few centimetres taller than him, but his frame was much sturdier, especially his upper body.

"Good," Rhys released his shirt still glaring at him and stepped back. "You better remember that."

Then he looked straight at you. See you next time, sweetheart. If anything, send me a message. You know how.

"Take very, very good care of her, Tam. She is the most precious person in the world." And with that he was gone.

Tamlin shook his head and grunting something under his breath he opened the door. As soon as he was inside, you rushed to him and squeezed him in firm embrace. Without thinking you stood up on your tiptoes and your lips landed on his. He went rigid, eyes widening.

You realized what you'd done and in shame started to pull away. Tamlin's hand clasped the back of your head and holding you in place his lips parted slightly and brushed over yours. So slowly, he claimed them in tender kiss, not rushing anywhere. Heart thundering in your chest, you kissed him back.

After a minute or two when your lungs burned with lack of oxygen, he broke the kiss and looked down at you, all flushed with glazed eyes. His fingertips brushed away an unruly strand of hair from your face, sliding down to your jaw.

He moved so fast you didn't see it. His next kiss was nothing like the first one. It was wild and hot and needy, war of lips, teeth and tongues. He kissed you like a starving man, devouring and exploring every inch of your mouth, sucking out all air from you.

One of his hands travelled down your body to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. You moaned into his mouth drawing a growl from him. Your back arched, chest brushing against the chest. There was no time to take a gulp of air and you were starting to feel light-headed.

Before you could pass out he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Both of you were heaving heavily, lips swollen.

"Gods," you whispered and he laughed, his breath fanning your face. You were drunk on his scent, now suffocatingly stronger.

"You taste like strawberries." He pecked your cheek, lips trailing to your jaw and down the column of your neck to the shoulder. He didn't miss even that sensitive spot under your ear. You bit on your lower lip, holding back another moan.

"Say it again," you pleaded breathlessly.

"What? About the strawberries?" he smile into your skin.

"No. What you told to Rhys."

"Aah, you mean that part that I won't hurt you."

"No, not that."

"Then what?" He was teasing you while his lips and hands explored your body.

"You are such a tease. The other thing you told him."

"Hmm," he pretended to think about it, his mouth slowly returning back to the spot under your ear. He licked the sensitive skin and lightly nipped at it. The moan escaped you before you could stop it. "You mean the 'love you' part?"

You hummed in agreement, unable to think straight with his soft lips playing with your earlobe while whispering words in hoarse deep voice that made your toes curl.

Tamlin stopped teasing you and scanning your face with interest, he waited until you opened your eyes and focused. He caressed your cheek with feather-light touch, fingers barely touching you. The other arm held you firmly to his body. You could feel every shift of his muscles. Bright emerald eyes found yours.

"I love you, Y/N," he said little nervously. "From bottom of my heart, I love you."

Your heart skipped few beats and you closed your eyes again. It wasn't the first time somebody confessed to you, but this was so different. It felt so right as if you were born only for this, waiting for him your entire life.

You ran your fingers along his shoulder blades, ends of his golden hair tickling your knuckles. You inhaled deeply and found his gaze.

"I love you, Tamlin," you breathed out.

"Thank the Mother," his tense shoulders relaxed a little, "I already thought you won't say it."

You huffed amused. He leaned down and gave you a peck, licked his bottom lip and gave you another and another and soon you were kissing again. His chest vibrated with growl.

"I dreamt about this so many times, but it's actually much better than I imagined."

"You dreamt about this?" You quirked a brow, nuzzling to his neck.

Muscle in his jaw flexed. "I did. Every night when I couldn't sleep, I tried to imagine holding you like this and kissing you."

You giggled. "Liar. You made it up now."

He laughed, the sound echoing in that broad chest of his. You snuggled to him even closer, enjoying the beautiful sound. "No, I didn't."

You blushed so fiercely you were glad he couldn't see your face.

"Shouldn't we make some dinner?" you asked after a while.

"No," his hands nestled on your waist. "You should go sit down and wrap up into blanket while I prepare something to eat."

He started to gently push you back towards your armchair.

"Nooo," you pleaded. "I sat all day long. I want to do something too."

"Fine," he cooed adding a log to fire. He snapped fingers and a tome fell into your lap. You immediately read its title, your fingers already prickling with curiosity. "Will you read to me while I cook then?"

"Seriously?" You pouted. He just nodded, chuckling. He knew you loved reading and used your weakness against you, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist. You opened the book on the first page, eager to find out what kind of story Tamlin chose and started reading it aloud.

You only stopped to eat and then Tamlin took the book and read to you until you fell asleep on his lap. Marking your progress he put the book aside. Carefully he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Throwing the blanket over you, he snuggled up to you, kissed your forehead and smiling fell asleep.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

#english isnt my first language #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf #rhysand #sarah j maas #tamlin fluff

71 notes · View notes