#Me trying to get around the mature tag so that is safe

[oscarwetnwilde]

The safer version that won't get me flagged: James Wilby and Suzanne Burden in You, Me, And It (1993) and an interview on the filming of the show:

"The series highlights that in this situation sex becomes purely a means of having a baby. It seems to lose the loving element, and that causes all kinds of problems. The couple also, frequently think there is something very inadequate about them."

James and Suzanne have to play many intimate love scenes in the production. "They are not difficult. If you have two actors who are prepared to throw their inhibitions in the wind and got on with it. These scenes really focus on the fact that they are trying to have children. They are not lurid or pornographic, and without them the production would be rather empty." -James Wilby

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML. 

That was only an hour ago. 

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him. 

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“ 

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses. 

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.” 

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise. 

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet. 

“I dinnae need-“ 

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist. 

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses. 

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs. 

“Alright.” 

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt. 

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer. 

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.” 

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright? 

>It’s Johnny, by the way :) 

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” 

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” 

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines. 

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.  

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore. 

He won’t… be your patient anymore. 

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery. 

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright. 

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake. 

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you. 

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own. 

It’s for the best. 

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional. 

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will. 

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny. 

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer. 

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on? 

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face. 

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now... 

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?  

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well. 

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number? 

Of course, he knows, he started that group text. 

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That’s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked. 

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.  

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest. 

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck. 

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way. 

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon,  Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse?  I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to.  You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name.  I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging.  -K.L. 

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from? 

[intoanotherworld23]

Lust In The Night

Summary: You pay for an escort by the name of Joel for the night, and it was definitely worth every cent

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, smut, minor bdsm, use of handcuffs, use of toy, overstimulation, praise kink, dominant Joel, escort Joel, submissive reader, mention of safe word, dirty talk, rough sex

A/N: if anyone wishes to be added to my Pedro/or Joel tag list please let me know and I’ll be happy to add you. Heart, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and supportive. Thanks! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan @lover-of-books-and-tea @bbyanarchist

Silk satin sheets lay beneath your body the red lights above you illuminating your naked body. The cold metal that held your wrists to the bed was digging into your skin every time you pulled. Joel standing in front of the bed smirking down at you like a crazed animal who was staring at his meal.

"You look good enough to eat baby." Complimenting you with such pride to know that you were all his for the night. The atmosphere in the room was clouded with lust. Tensions high and thick you wanted to bite into it.

"All you can eat." Snickering at your cheeky comment spreading your legs his eyes immediately focusing at your dripping cunt like a pot of honey that was overflowing at the lid.

"I'd watch what you say cause I am a starving man." Tone of his voice clenching your thighs together. Cold air breeze rushing against your nipples Joel watching as they erect into hard nubs.

Watching as Joel walked over to the dresser and pulling something out trying to keep it from your view. Ribcage rising and falling with each breath as it felt like every step he was taking was in slow motion. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose. Enjoying your twitching and rattling around on the bed like you were trying to escape out of these handcuffs.

"How badly do you want me?" It seemed weird that a man as good looking as him needed to hear you say that. Then again he probably just wanted to hear how pathetically you could beg for him.

"I want you so fucking badly it hurts." Thrusting your hips upwards coaxing him to look directly between your legs hoping he would sense how agonizing this was for you, and you needed him more than he could ever know.

“You know the safe word?" He asked as he flashed the thick dildo in front of you. Eyes slightly widening not sure if that was really going to fit inside of you, imagining just how much it was going to stretch you out.

"Yes, sir." He couldn't help but grin at the name signaling to him that you acknowledged he was the one in charge, and he had you right where he wanted you. Reaching forward to press the dildo against your inner thigh making you gasp. It looked almost realistic, and you really wished it was his cock pressing against your skin instead of this toy. "Red."

"That's my good whore." The crude name should have offended you but right now it just made your cunt drip with desire.

Moving the toy upwards to finally reached to your sensitive cunt a loud whimper leaving your lips as he motioned it up and down your lips. Soaking the object in your juices so it would be easier to push inside of you. Although you were wet enough it didn't need to be lubricated. Gliding it in so easily that it could have slipped out if he wasn't holding onto it.

“Fuck look at you getting it soaked already.” His tone crude and mocking, but you could care less it still turned you on.

Unable to speak all you could do is keep your mouth open as it slowly stretched you out. Joel keeping it still inside of you as his free hand kept a tight grip on your ankle. His half naked body sitting between your legs to keep them open for his pleasure.

"Tell me how it feels baby." Clenching your hands into fists as he pulled the toy out all the way only to thrust it back in. Closing your eyes as you allowed your body to fully give in to what you were feeling, and didn't want to hold anything back. "I wanna hear those pretty lips tell me how good this dildo feels inside of you."

Thrusting the toy inside of you so quickly you could hear the sound of your squelching cunt. Heat rising to your cheeks as it echoed in your ear. Only making him drill it deeper inside of you to create more sounds especially from your mouth. Pulling even harder against the restraints it was starting to burn your skin.

"It feels so fucking good, sir." Patting yourself on the back for taking those shots before you decided to do this otherwise you would be acting like some sort of shy school girl. Joel could sense there was a dirty vixen hiding inside of you, and he couldn't wait to bring it out of you.

The way your bottom lip trembled as he hit a certain spot. Arousal coating the toy every time he pulled it out leaving a clear milky substance stringed across it. It was like he was staring at a piece of artwork.

"Look at me." His tone stern but playful as a hand reached up to grip your jaw. Grabbing your attention as he drew you in. His eyes were so dark you would have thought he was some sort of demon. Keeping your mouth open wide enough for him to stick a finger in your mouth. Feeling bold as you wrapped your tongue around the digit closing your mouth sucking his finger like a lollipop.

"Those pretty eyes begging to be fucked by my cock instead." He was literally reading your mind very accurately. Sensing the dildo wasn't enough for you, and you wanted more. "Wanna feel that cunt be stretched out around me."

Clearly becoming entranced at the choke hold you had on him since the movements of the dildo were starting to slow down. Like he was losing control, and becoming distracted by your sudden bold move. He was totally impressed, but he had to remind you he was in charge.

"Fuck me sweetheart you're really testing me now." Pulling his finger away from your mouth a trail of saliva being left down your chin.

Pulling the dildo out of you a hiss escaping past your lips at the sudden and empty loss. Not taking long before Joel was stripped of all his clothes so you could fully take in his naked form. Eyes falling to his cock seeing the veins popping out, the tip leaking cum like he was going to burst any minute.

Crawling towards you on the bed like a predator ready for pounce on his prey. Staring intensely at him waiting for his next move as he pumped his cock. Hands on either side of your face as he teased you by rubbing the tip up and down your folds like he did with the toy.

"Are you ready for me baby girl?" Knowing the answer to that but he always had to make sure it was something the woman wanted.

"Yes, sir I'm ready for you." That's all he needed to hear before dragging his hips down before pushing himself all the way in. Hips pressed into your pelvis as he stayed there for a second before drilling himself into your puffy cunt.

"Jesus you've got a tight little cunt." Deep groans coming from his chest as he rolled his hips deep and slow, but with such a delicious impact.

Wrapping your legs around his waist holding onto him for dear life since you weren't able to grab him with your hands. The slightly new angle had him pushing in deeper you felt him in your guts. Bodies moving up and down the bed as the headboard slammed into the wall so hard it might create a hole.

"That's it sweetheart take my cock like a good little whore." Praising you as he looked down to where you both were connected amazed at how well you were able to take him. Worried he might snap you in half or break your body just within the first few seconds.

"Your cock feels so good inside me." A drop of sweat rolling down his face as his face turned beat red trying to control himself. Not wanting to cum so quickly then ruining this whole experience for you.

Leaning forward slightly just so his mouth was hovering right above yours. If there was one rule that Joel had it was never to kiss. Kiss was such an intimate act he felt it would create feelings, and with feelings came complications. With you though he found himself struggling not to press his lips against your soft and plump looking ones.

"Can feel your cunt squeezing my cock baby." Words mocking and teasing you had you wrapped around his fingers. Enjoying the way he talked you as he continued to fuck you silly. Whispering absolute utter filth into your ear that it would even make the devil blush. He certainly had no problem saying it though.

Joel oozed confidence in every thing that he did whether it was just in general or sexually. The man knew the right things to say, and when to say them. He was good at what he did, and he certainly was worth going bankrupt over. The man was a professional in the sex department.

"Joel I'm so close." Warning him as your body started to shake a fire ignited in your stomach. Head tossed back in ecstasy as you struggled to hold on anymore. Both of you were chasing that sweet release, and Joel was more focused on you.

"Let go baby, cum for me I'm right here." Whispering beside your ear the low voice sending you over the edge. Chest rising and falling with each quick breath hands falling limp against the cuffs, and legs loosely hanging around his hips.

Joel feeling your cunt clenching around him so tightly like a viper. Cum leaking out the sides and dripping down your cheeks. Your cunt was so sore and felt absolutely raw from the pounding that it just took. Cock staying still inside of you still hard a quick twitch afraid to move worried he would squirt his seed.

"Fuck that was by far the tightest cunt I have ever fucked." Brushing a hand across his face and up his hair. Pulling out when he knew it was safe a hiss leaving your lips as he carefully pulled out your body jolting at the sensitivity from the sudden loss of him. "I seriously almost came like three times."

"Then why didn't you?" Something seemed to stir inside of him at your question as he leaned back so he could hop off the bed and grabbed the keys off the nightstand unlocking the handcuffs. Feeling your arms drop a slight sting on your skin as you sat up and rubbed the raw flesh with fresh marks.

Getting the feeling that now that you got what you wanted you were going to be on your way. His body was stiff and his whole demeanor become cold and rigid. Maybe you were just hoping for some small talk or something after instead of just kicking you out the door.

"Well I hope that was to your satisfaction." His voice now professional and businesslike which made your stomach churn. Feeling like you said something wrong, and it was making you feel sick at the thought.

"Yes it was more than satisfying Joel." Nodding your head rapidly a smirk appearing on his face at how softly you said his name making you smile at the change in his body language.

"Good I look forward to seeing you again." Tossing a card with his cell number and full name before exiting the room giving you a mischievous wink.

[misswynters]

Bond by Love and Fire - Chapter Four

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: Aegon tries to find the culprit of your attack, however the small council’s focus is at another thing. Which is your duty as his wife, to give him an heir. Aerion is starting to get jealous.

[warnings: mature/explicit (mdni), 18+, eventual smut, exhibitionism, vouyerism, making out, touching, fingering, cursing, worship, balcony sex, breeding, degrading, rough sex (kinda), smut with plot, not proofread (kinda)

[work count: 4.5k

[a/n: took longer due to my brain wanting to write other things, however it’s here now! enjoy pls and if you would like to be tagged for the next chapter let me know!!! also the balcony part was inspired “Owned” by @peachysunrize <3

[note l it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

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Birds chirps and sun shining, it was the next morning and it couldn’t been a beautiful day. However, the Red Keep was abuzz with the news of the attack. Guards were doubled, and everyone was on high alert. Aegon and you met with the small council to discuss the incident.

In the council chamber, the atmosphere was tense. Aegon, you, and the council members were gathered around the large wooden table. The guard captain gave a report on the investigation so far, noting that the assassin wasn’t sent by Aerion.

Lord Hand cleared his throat. “We’ve interrogated the remaining guards, and it appears the assailant was acting under orders from an unknown source. We suspect a plot within the court.”

Aegon squeezed your hand tightly. “We need to find out who’s behind this. My spouse’s safety is paramount.”

You nodded in agreement. “I want to know why I was targeted. We need to uncover the truth.”

Master of Whispers leaned forward. “I will deploy my spies to gather more information. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

The tension in the room was palpable, each council member wearing a serious expression. The discussion continued, each voice contributing to the plan to secure the castle and find the perpetrator.

Later that day, Aerion sought you out. He looked genuinely concerned, having heard about the attack.

“Aerion,” you greeted him, a mixture of relief and tension in your voice.

“I heard about the attack,” Aerion said, his eyes searching yours. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though the memory of the guard’s assault still haunted you. “I’m fine, just shaken.”

Aerion stepped closer, his expression softening. “I’m glad you’re safe. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

Before you could respond, Aegon approached, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Aerion. “Is there a problem here?”

Aerion straightened, his concern for you momentarily overshadowed by his rivalry with Aegon. “No problem. Just making sure they’re okay.”

Aegon’s jaw tightened. “They’re my wife. It’s my duty to ensure their safety.”

You placed a hand on Aegon’s arm, trying to diffuse the tension. “I appreciate both of your concerns. But right now, we need to focus on finding out who’s behind this.”

Aerion nodded reluctantly. “Of course. Just know that I’m here if you need anything.”

With that you stood up from the bench and walked away without looking back. You didn’t want anything else to happen between the two of you since you were now officially married to aegon. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t being kind towards you. It was the opposite and you didn’t want to rude that. Not after you were complaining about not getting aegon attention. Matter fact you were getting more than you bargained for.

The crackling of the hearth was the only sound that punctuated the serene ambiance of the chamber. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, creating a dance of light and shadow that made the atmosphere intimate and inviting. You sat near the hearth, deeply engrossed in a book, its pages illuminated by the fire’s gentle warmth. It seemed like the day was dragging on as you spent them at the library reading and learning about the culture in kings landing. However the nightly hours came sooner than expected.

The tranquility of the moment was abruptly disturbed as the heavy door to the chamber swung open with a groan. Aegon’s tall, imposing figure filled the doorway, his presence commanding and filled with a palpable tension. His eyes, usually soft and affectionate, were now stormy and intense, reflecting a turmoil that immediately set your heart racing.

“Aegon,” you said, rising from your seat and closing the book with a soft thud. “What’s wrong?”

His voice was low, almost a growl, as he crossed the room with determined strides. “Why were you meeting with Aerion in secret? Do you have any idea the scandal this could provoke?”

A pang of guilt pierced through you. “Fuck-Aegon, it wasn’t intended to be a secret rendezvous. I only needed to speak with Aerion about something personal, something I couldn’t discuss openly.”

He stopped before you, his eyes blazing with hurt and frustration. “Personal? Is that what you call it? Do you understand how this affects us, how it fuels the rumors that can jeopardize everything we’ve built together?”

You reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his chest. “I wasn’t trying to betray you. I am deeply sorry for the distress I caused. Please, let me explain.”

Aegon’s expression softened, the fierce anger giving way to a more subdued pain. “I know you didn’t intend to hurt me,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “But seeing you with him again like that made me feel as though our bond was being questioned. It’s a wound I didn’t expect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked up at him, your heart aching with remorse. “I never wanted to make you feel that way. I love you, Aegon, and I’m truly sorry. I should have been more mindful.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a protective embrace. His warmth enveloped you, offering solace as you buried your face in his chest. “I forgive you,” he murmured into your hair. “And I’m sorry for my outburst. It’s just… my love for you is so profound that the thought of losing it or having our marriage questioned is unbearable.”

You clung to him, feeling the depth of his words. “I love you too, Aegon. I promise, I will be more considerate. I never want to hurt you.”

Aegon pulled back, his gaze intense and earnest. “We’ve been married for a few months now,” he began, his voice filled with a trace of apprehension. “The small council has been relentless in their pressure. They demand that we secure an heir to ensure the future of our line.”

A realization dawned upon you, a mix of anticipation and tenderness. “You mean…?”

He nodded, his expression softening into a tender smile. “Yes. They expect us to conceive an heir. And I desire that as well.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with both affection and understanding. “Oh…Well I want that too then.”

He approached you with a gentle grace, lowering himself to kneel before you. His hands, warm and reverent, rested on your thighs as he gazed up at you with adoration. “Let me make amends for my earlier reaction,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverent murmur.

As you settled back into your chair, Aegon’s hands began to knead your thighs with a worshipful tenderness. His touch was a blend of soothing pressure and affectionate caresses, each movement a silent expression of his devotion. He leaned in, pressing delicate kisses along the inner curve of your thighs, his lips moving with a reverent touch that made your breath catch.

“I love you beyond words,” he murmured between kisses, his lips brushing against your skin with the lightness of butterfly wings. “I am devoted to you in every way, and I cherish every moment with you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his affection. “I love you too, Aegon,” you whispered, your voice filled with a profound sense of connection. “You are everything to me.”

Aegon’s touch remained tender and adoring, his kisses a constant reminder of his unwavering love and commitment. In the glow of the hearth, surrounded by the warmth of his devotion, you felt a deep sense of peace and closeness, knowing that together, you could face anything.

The atmosphere was rich with an intimate, serene quality, punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional, contented sigh.

Aegon, having guided you to the edge of the sofa, looked at you with a tender, focused gaze. His touch remained gentle and adoring as he carefully spread your legs, allowing them to cascade over the armrest. The position was comfortable, giving him easy access to you while allowing you to remain relaxed and at ease.

As you adjusted to the new position, Aegon's fingers continued their tender exploration. His hands were warm and skilled, moving with an almost reverential touch. He guided you closer to the edge, making sure you were supported yet relaxed. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though each gesture was an act of worship.

You let out a surprised yelp and a soft giggle as he made you shift, the playful nature of his touch bringing a lightheartedness to the moment. Aegon's eyes sparkled with affection and amusement. "I want to make sure you're as comfortable as possible," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth.

Aegon's hands traveled up your thighs with a gentle, loving pressure. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Each kiss was soft and lingering, a testament to his deep affection. His lips moved in a slow, worshipful pattern, kissing and nuzzling with a delicate tenderness that made you shiver in pleasure.

"You are so beautiful," Aegon whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Every part of you captivates me."

As he continued his loving exploration, his fingers began to caress with a more intentional touch. They moved slowly, tracing along the contours of your thighs with a practiced, reverent caress.

The combination of his kisses and gentle touches made your heart race, a feeling of deep connection enveloping you.

Aegon's fingers explored with a careful, adoring touch, his movements considerate of your responses. He pressed tender, fluttering kisses along your inner thighs, his lips a soft, affectionate pressure against your skin.

Each kiss was accompanied by a whispered word of praise, a reflection of his adoration.

"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice hushed and filled with emotion. "I cherish every moment with you, and I want to show you just how deeply I love you."

The combination of Aegon's kisses and touches created a cocoon of intimacy and warmth. His hands continued to move with a loving, deliberate pace, his touch both soothing and exhilarating.

The firelight played across his face, highlighting the tenderness in his expression as he continued to adore you.

With each kiss and caress, the bond between you grew stronger, a testament to the depth of your connection. Aegon's devotion was palpable, expressed through every gentle touch and affectionate word. The intimacy you shared was both profound and comforting, creating a moment of deep, heartfelt closeness.

Aegon's touch was skillful and deliberate, his fingers pushing into you with a rhythm that left you breathless and wanting. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and determination as he watched you writhe and moan beneath his touch. The heat of the room seemed to intensify with every passing moment, sweat beginning to bead on your skin.

"You're so beautiful like this," Aegon murmured, his voice husky with desire. “with your legs wide open for me."

You moaned in response, your body instinctively arching toward his touch, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he was giving you. The feeling of his fingers inside you, moving with such expertise, was driving you to the edge of your sanity.

"A-Aegon," you stuttered, body unraveling with sheer pleasure as two of Aegon’s fingers happened to fuck you relentlessly throughout these past few seconds. The pleasure took overdrive, and you were in so much pleasure that you needed a few minutes to calm down. Shaking hands gripped on weakly to aegon’s wrist, showing the lack of you actually wanting him to stop. Aegon slightly smirked, and curling his fingers up inside of your folds which caused you to arch your back against the couch, loosening your grip entirely.

"I want to make you cum just like this." Aegon whispered, his gaze looking up towards you with desire. How stunning you looked intoxicated, half naked and brilliantly decorated with patterns of hickeys and love bites. "With my beautiful hands, as you say." he precisely added on, pressing his fingertips down onto your sensitive thighs which earned him a choked moan.

Aegon ran his tongue up your neck, suckling on the your jawline as he continued his pace gently with his fingers. "I told you to move your hands, dear wife." He whispered huskily into your ear, afterwards, he drove his teeth into the soft skin of your ear which caused the other's breath to hitch.

"You like that, my love?"

"Uh-huh, yes, so fucking much." you whimpered, your folds throbbing with intense pleasure. Aegon started to rut against the coach and he started to also get evidently hard. But he had to wait for you first, making sure you were well prepared. However he couldn’t wait much longer. He was desperately in need to be inside of you.

Aegon paused, his fingers stilling inside you as he looked up with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's too hot in here," he declared, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's take this outside."

Before you could protest, Aegon stood, his strong arms lifting you effortlessly from the chair. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel the hard, insistent press of his arousal against you through his clothes. The sensation sent a thrill through your body, heightening your anticipation.

Aegon carried you out to the balcony, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat you had just left behind. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the stone railing and the sprawling landscape beyond.

He pressed your back against the cold, rough stone, his body shielding you from the night's chill. The sensation of the cool air against your heated skin was exhilarating, adding a new layer of intensity to the moment.

With a deft movement, Aegon lifted your thighs, draping them over his arms so that you were completely open to him. The position made you feel vulnerable yet intensely aroused, your body eager for what was to come next.

Aegon's eyes were dark with desire as he aligned himself with you. He pushed into you slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp. His pace was deliberate, every inch of him driving you wild with need.

“You feel so good, hugging around me like that," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "So tight and wet. You're perfect."

You moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing to feel every part of him. Aegon's movements became more urgent, his hips thrusting with a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he growled, his tone dripping with a mix of lust and disdain. "Such a needy little cunt. You like being filled, don't you?"

The cold stone against your back, the night air on your skin, and the heat of Aegon inside you created a heady mixture of sensations that left you breathless. Every thrust, every whispered word of praise and degradation from Aegon, pushed you closer to the edge.

Aegon gripped your hips firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with a fiery intensity.

"Look down," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper. Your gaze followed his, looking down between your bodies. The sight of him disappearing into your folds, the slickness of your arousal coating him, made your breath catch in your throat. The view was almost too much to bear.

"You see that?" Aegon rasped, his voice thick with desire. "You're taking me so deep, so perfectly. Fuck, you're amazing."

The sound of your bodies moving together, the wet noises, and your mingled moans filled the night air, creating a symphony of shared pleasure. You watched in fascination as Aegon's length disappeared into you again and again, the sight driving you to new heights of ecstasy.

"Aegon," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I can feel you so deep... don't stop. Please, I need you."

He responded with a deep, guttural groan, his pace quickening as he drove into you with a relentless rhythm. The sensation of him stretching and filling you completely was almost overwhelming, each thrust sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body.

"You're going to give me an heir," he rasped, his voice rough and

commanding. "I'm going to fill you up until you're carrying my child. The small council will finally shut up when they see you swollen with my seed."

His thrusts became even more aggressive, each movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The wet, slick sounds of him plunging into you echoed through the night, mingling with your desperate moans and his harsh breaths.

"You're nothing but a breeding cunt for me," he continued, his words sending shivers down your spine. "'ll fuck you every night until I'm sure you're filled with my heir."

As the waves of your climax began to build, Aegon's grip on you tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered,

"Come for me. I want to feel you come around me." His words, combined with the intense rhythm of his thrusts, sent you over the edge. Your body convulsed with a powerful, shuddering orgasm, your cries of pleasure echoing into the night.

Just as he was reaching his peak, Aegon's grip tightened on the stone railing behind you, holding you in place as his body pressed flush against yours. He followed you moments later, his own release crashing through him as he filled you completely. The slickness between your bodies made every movement smoother, more intimate. Your thighs and hips were coated with the evidence of your shared pleasure, as was his lower abdomen.

For a few moments, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were your heavy breaths and the distant crackle of the hearth inside. Aegon remained pressed against you, his body still intimately connected with yours, as you both savored the afterglow of your intense connection.

As you clung to him, lost in the sensation of his body against yours, you didn't notice the door to the balcony creaking open. It wasn't until you heard a gasp that your head snapped around. Standing there, eyes wide with shock, was Aegon's twin brother, Aerion.

"What the-" Aerion stammered, his face a mix of surprise and amusement.

Aegon's reaction was immediate. He moved to shield your body from his brother's view, his face contorted with anger. "Get out!" he barked, his voice harsh and commanding. "Now!"

Aerion raised his hands in mock surrender, backing away with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. I didn't see anything," he said, disappearing back inside. Aegon turned back to you, his expression softening. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the lingering tension.

You nodded, still catching your breath. "Yes, I'm fine," you assured him.

Slowly, he eased out of you, his hands gentle as he helped you back to a standing position. His eyes were soft, filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as he looked at you.

Aegon looked at you with a soft, lingering gaze, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back.

"You should relax," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper. "Let me take you to the bath."

You nodded, feeling a warm flush of gratitude. Aegon wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you back inside the room. The warmth of the hearth welcomed you once more, the flames casting a golden glow over the opulent surroundings. He led you to a spacious bathing chamber, the air filled with the soothing scent of lavender and rose.

The bath was already prepared, steam rising from the clear water, inviting and serene. Aegon helped you undress, his touch gentle and reverent, before guiding you into the tub. The warm water enveloped you, easing the tension from your muscles and wrapping you in a comforting embrace.

Aegon knelt beside the tub, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to savor the moment. "Relax, my love," he whispered. "I need to take care of something, but I'll be back soon."

You watched as he left the room, his figure disappearing down the hallway with purposeful strides. You always wondered by he would always leave after spending time with you, in the guise that the council is summoning him. Left alone, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into the water, the warmth seeping into your bones. The events of the night played over in your mind, Aegon's sweet and harsh words echoing in your thoughts.

"You're nothing but a breeding cunt for me," he had said, yet there had been an underlying tenderness in his eyes, a depth of emotion that spoke of more than just desire.

As you reflected, the door to the bathing chamber opened once more. Handmaidens entered, carrying fresh clothes for both you and Aegon. They moved with quiet efficiency, laying out the garments on a nearby table. One of them approached the tub, her expression respectful and serene.

"Milady, we've brought fresh clothes for you," she said softly. "Is there anything else you require?"

You shook your head, offering her a grateful smile. "No, thank you. This is perfect."

The handmaidens bowed slightly before exiting the room, leaving you once again in peaceful solitude. The soothing scents and the gentle warmth of the water lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. Your eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the night catching up with you.

As you reclined in the tub, your thoughts drifted, mingling with the soft murmur of the water. You remembered the way Aegon's eyes had darkened with desire, the way his hands had claimed you with both gentleness and ferocity. A small smile played on your lips as you recalled the mix of sweet words and degrading commands that had left you breathless.

The memories sent a shiver through you, a lingering thrill that kept the embers of your desire burning. But the warmth of the bath and the comforting scent of lavender began to weave a drowsy spell over you. Your head lolled back, your muscles loosening as you gave in to the gentle pull of sleep.

You barely noticed when your eyes closed completely, the soft embrace of slumber enveloping you. The last conscious thought you had was of Aegon's tender kiss on your forehead, a promise of his return. The crackle of the hearth and the soothing warmth of the bath became a lullaby, guiding you into a deep, restful sleep.

Time seemed to stand still as you drifted in a dreamlike state, your mind filled with the remnants of the night's passion and the promise of Aegon's return. The water cradled you, its warmth a gentle cocoon that kept the world at bay. Lost in your dreams, you didn’t hear the door to the bathing chamber creak open.

A light tap on your shoulder jolted you awake. Your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself face-to-face with Aerion. His presence startled you, and a mix of fear and anger surged through you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?” you spat, your voice trembling with indignation. “Get out, now, before I summon the guards!”

Aerion raised his hands in a placating gesture, his expression earnest. “Wait, just listen to me for a moment,” he implored.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” you snapped, sitting up in the tub and clutching the edges for support. “Leave now, or I swear I’ll have the guards drag you out of here.”

Aerion’s face contorted with frustration, but he didn’t move. He stepped closer, his face mere inches from yours, staring into your eyes with disbelief. “My dear,” he began, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and pity, “you are so oblivious to everything. Finding the good in everything and being so optimistic when it’s the direct opposite. The world isn’t how you dream it would be.”

You could feel his breath on your face, his intensity making your anger flare even hotter. You bit your tongue, holding back the torrent of words you wanted to unleash.

“You were fortunate enough to have a perfect life,” he continued, his tone almost accusatory. “You don’t see the reality, the scheming, the manipulation. Aegon is using you, and you’re too blinded by your feelings to see it. Once he has his heir, he’ll cast you aside, just like he did in the beginning.”

Your anger flared even hotter at his words. “How dare you! You don’t know anything about our relationship. Aegon cares for me, and I care for him. You’re just trying to cause a rift between us, something you’ve always tried to do.”

Aerion’s expression softened, his eyes pleading. “I’m trying to protect you. Aegon is using you, and you’re too blinded by your feelings to see it. Once he has his heir, he’ll go back to ignoring you, to treating you like you’re nothing. Don’t you remember how he was before?”

The memories of Aegon’s distant behavior in the early days of your relationship flashed through your mind, but you pushed them aside. “People change, Aerion. He has changed.”

Aerion shook his head, stepping closer to the tub. “You’re deluding yourself. I’ve seen how he looks at you—like you’re a means to an end. He’s sweet now because he needs you. But once he gets what he wants, he’ll go back to his old ways.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “Enough. You need to leave, now. I won’t let you poison my mind with your lies.”

Aerion sighed, his expression a mixture of sadness and resignation. “I’m telling you this because I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

You glared at him, your voice icy. “If you really cared about me, you’d respect my wishes and leave. Now, get out.”

Aerion’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded slowly. “Heed my warning, my dear ___. Don’t let him break your heart.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your swirling emotions. The bathwater had lost its warmth, but you stayed where you were, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Aerion’s words echoed in your head, sowing seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to ignore.

You knew you had to trust Aegon, to believe in the changes you had seen in him. But Aerion’s warnings gnawed at the edges of your confidence, leaving you feeling unsettled and vulnerable.

As you finally climbed out of the tub and dried off, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your relationship with Aegon was standing on precarious ground. You dressed in the fresh clothes the handmaidens had left, your mind still a storm of uncertainty.

When Aegon returned, you’d have to confront these doubts, to seek reassurance and clarity. Until then, all you could do was hold onto the hope that the love you and Aegon shared was real and enduring, strong enough to withstand any challenges that came your way.

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[cuntdevil]

★ CYBERGUARD !

thank you for signing up to cyberguard! we heard that you're looking for protection and you came to the right website. cyberguard is aiming to amplify the safety of people through the use and programming of robots to keep you safe. made to answer every beck and call, and more importantly, to provide you safely, we know we've got what you're looking for !

( series demographics. ) x-men, logan howlett, dark and violent themes & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 11,667 words !

╰┈➤ robot bodyguard!logan howlett & idol!reader, alternative universe, some political topics, blood & violence, minor character death, possessive/obsessive!logan, erratic behavior, manhandling, rough sex, full nelson, asphyxiation, some slapping, fingering, degredation, unprotected sex because he's a robot, dry humping, sadomasochism, squirting, etc.

( author's note. ) i wrote this in one sitting. no matter how many times ive written robot aus, i always have the most fun with it 😋 !! anyway, this is my first ever wolverine fic, so please be nice to me, im sensitive !!

➤ RETURN TO THE CYBERCORE CATALOG !

You hated last-minute meetings. It makes you feel like you're right back in school again. Sitting around a desk as the authoritative figure looks down at you patronizingly. There's a moment of silence as you're waiting for your punishment, feet tapping agonizingly fast before being prompted to "stop," but not even thirty seconds later, you're right back at it. You've never had to receive punishment, fortunately, but your imagination was a wild one and you'd always see that scenario so vividly in your mind. 

Still, you hate them. Never tell what it was about until you're being beckoned in. Just like at school, where they would never hint at the good news, make you wait anxiously for time on end and send you into a near heart attack because they want to build up the anticipation. When in reality, it was anxiety that they fostered inside of you. You have an idea about what this meeting is about, though, so you shouldn’t completely lie. 

They’re probably going to be trying to conjure some ideas in regards to you and your safety after the attempt made on your life last night. You’ve become very vocal in political matters lately, letting the world know your stance on your current government and they didn’t like your response. You started getting hit with derogatory statements and slurs being spewed left and right, bigoted pieces of shit not afraid to tag you in their hate. Just like you, they shared a passion for their beliefs, but taking it to extremes. 

Building a strong mind and a stealthy rapport, you had become immune to the messages, going about your regular schedule as you had rehearsals and interviews set in place for your recently released music. However, in came the packages made to your company building. They were always vetted before you received them— hence why you’ve received none— but the knowledge that people were so hateful because of your opinions was enough to invoke a shred of fear throughout your body. 

Your management had seen this coming. That someone would try to make an attempt on your life, suggesting that they hired more bodyguards in your favor and limited the amount of fan meets and delayed your tour, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to show them that you were afraid because that meant they had the upper-hand in all of this. However, things have taken a turn as news has circulated of the events that transpired last night. You’re afraid that you no longer have a choice in this matter anymore. 

The blue lights do nothing in your favor as you sing on stage. No matter how many times you’ve requested that they be replaced by another color, a color that would suit your warm undertones, they still shine on you. You try not to have it seem like you’re a spoiled idol that wants everything to your beck and call. You’re not a tyrant, no, but you’re wondering if that’s what it takes for people to take you more seriously. 

Still, with your bedazzled mic in hand as you perform, you move on through the night. With a wardrobe made to suit your tastes and appearance to the world, the military green cargo pants hang off your waist and the black straps of your lacy thong shows. Paired with a pink bikini top and a ripped up wife beater that barely hides your breasts. Gold accessories best compliment you, but you make sure to keep it simple, afraid to lose any of your precious pieces out in the crowd while you perform. The Timbs are heavy on your feet as you move, but they help complete your look for the night. 

Your hair was in a simple updo, but some of the bobby pins have come undone, not strong enough to hold up your locs that have come to hit your mid back. The stray stands come to get in your way from time to time as you try to interact with your fans. Everything felt ordinary in your extravagant lifestyle. You were an enigma that could move your waist fluidly as you danced, enticing your crowd as they cheered and screamed. Background dancers that sometimes staggered as they forgot their routine.

It was only a split second when the round of shots halted all movement from you. Immediate instincts telling you to drop to the floor, your bodyguards starting to swarm you immediately. Screams of terror and fright came from those on stage and off stage, as you peaked over your left shoulder to try and see through the mountain of men trying to bring you to safety. You manage to get a shot of one of your dancers receiving aid from another and tears well up in your eyes. Another set of shots fire as you can hear one bullet lodge into the lights before you’re being properly escorted backstage. 

Not too long after were you informed that they caught the perpetrator— a middle-aged white man that had somehow made it through the metal detectors. Turned out that the device was faulty. 

They had given you the luxury to spend the rest of the night to yourself, a traumatic experience that not only affected you, but your fans and staff. Guilt started welling up in your chest as it ruminate all night to the point that you were unable to sleep, but that given grace of somewhat solitude (they stuck a few bodyguards inside and outside your hotel room) ended the moment you woke up to a call from your manager summoning you to speak about the matter at hand. 

You had arrived in less than thirty minutes, not bothering to freshen up like you should’ve. A hot and steaming shower could’ve calmed your nerves surely, but that would’ve also left time to ruminate for a bit longer. You didn’t want that. However, arriving on time early also wasn’t the best choice as they have you sitting outside the office door now. Two bodyguards standing by your slouched side. You’re tapping your feet rather annoyingly and you’re sure they want to tell you to stop, the sound becoming obnoxious, but they don’t. 

The moment the door swings open, you’re on your feet before your manager could even process your presence in its entirety. “Is Anna Marie okay? Are the ones that got hurt okay?” 

Your manager, Ororo, takes a moment before letting out a sigh. Shutting their eyes as they take their breath. She looks like she hasn't gotten any sleep either. She knows that evading your questions will get her nowhere, as you’ll continue to hound and badger her about them until you get an answer. She knows you mean well, but sometimes she wants you to be selfish rather than selfless. “They’re fine, love,” she states. “They’re in the hospital and expected to be discharged by tomorrow or the day after.”

You exhale in relief, one bodyguard heading in front of you as the other enters behind. Ororo trails in shortly after as the rest of management has already had their seats taken, yours being the only one vacant still. Pulling out the swivel chair, you take a seat. 

“Hello, dear,” Charles Xavier, the co-founder of X-Men Entertainment alongside Erik Lensherr, speaks with a warm smile. From the times that you’ve had your encounters with him, he was always sweet and kind, making it easy to reciprocate a smile in conversation. With a gentle nod, the corner of your lips turn but never meets your eyes. “I hope you managed to get an inkling of sleep after all that happened last night.”

“I didn’t,” you answer truthfully, meaning to lie, but it just came out. You chuckle, trying to play it off. “But the show must go on.”

“I’m sad to hear that,” Charles frowns. “I know it’s been very hard on you, and I can ensure that we have something in hopes to make this all the more… bearable, for lack of a better word.”

“Yes,” Erik nods, finally speaking as he sits up in his seat. Unlike Charles, his button-up fit snugly against his skin, tightening as he fixes his posture. “I apologize for being straightforward, but I think it’s time that we really focus and put emphasis on your safety. What happened last night should’ve never happened and part of it is on us to blame for not ensuring that all of the equipment worked.”

Unlike the plenty of record labels and entertainment studios that tried hiring you once they heard your voice and saw your incredible talent, you’ve always felt like X-Men was the most genuine of the bunch. They weren’t the biggest of the bunch, but they’ve managed to stay honest with you through it all, helping you to become the star that you are. And you’ve surely proven yourself as many more talents have come to start switching over to them. 

In a sense, they’re right. What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. The faulty metal detector had led to the harming of people and ultimately an attempt on your life. Others would have tried to blame it on the stadium, and despite the role they had to play in it, your company did as well. However, that fact doesn’t make you feel any better about the entire ordeal.

“And we’re all aware about your disdain for more bodyguards,” Erik continues, “however, your safety is our biggest concern and we must prioritize that right now. We’ve canceled the rest of your fan meet and greets and your tour is being delayed.”

There’s a long pause, as though they’re expecting a rebuttal from you. Maybe if you were in your right mind, you would’ve had one come off the top of your head, but you don’t. You’re exhausted, sleep-ridden and restless. Your mind is a mess, thinking about a lot of things, but can’t focus on one. Last night was a fright and though you wanted the upper hand all this time, you’re afraid that they had it all along.

You’re afraid, and you hate this feeling, so you don’t argue back. You don’t have the strength for it and you don’t want to. They were right the first time and if it wasn’t for your strong will and stubbornness the first time around, this could’ve all been avoided. 

Your silence is Erik’s assurance to keep going. “We think it’s best that you receive therapy so that you have a healthy outlet, and we’re hiring another bodyguard.”

“Okay,” you nod in understanding. Everything that’s been said so far has been reasonable enough for you to agree with. “I’m fine with that.”

“You’re familiar with Cyberguard, aren’t you?” Charles speaks, clearing his throat at the end. The question catches you off guard as you tilt your head in question. You’ve heard about Cyberguard, underneath a bigger corporation called Cybercore, it’s an initiative to amplify people’s protection. A bodyguard service, only that the security themselves, being a bulk of metal.

You’ve seen and researched their prototypes, eerily resembling human kind that it’s unsettling. Something that you were also against as you’ve become to question the overall objective of the company. It all seemed like a ploy to get rid of the human race. 

For the first time since this morning, your thoughts become more clear and coherent as you come to understand what Charles is silently trying to tell you. He’s seen your videos, heard the interviews of your political views, but never have you told him about your skepticism with the advancement of technology. However, he’s very perceptive and wise in his old age. 

“No,” you shut your eyes, shaking your head repetitively as you’re adamant on your choice. “I thought you said you would just hire more men— women— but not a robot to babysit me.”

“Yes, my dear,” Charles sighs, knowing that this was going to take a turn the moment he suggested it. “But, things have taken a turn and we’ve had other idols and celebrities use them, and it seems like this is the best solution—”

“What about Scott and Hank?” you gesture to your current bodyguards. “What will you make of them? Or will they just be fired and not have a stable source of income now?”

“No, they will be temporarily placed with someone else,” Charles answers. “You don’t have to have the Cyberguard permanently. Just until everything settles down and you’re safe.”

“I'm safe with Hank and Scott right by my side,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“You once told me that you really appreciated our honesty,” Erik interjects. “So, I'm going to be frank when I say this to you, (Y/N). You no longer have a choice.

“The Cyberguards are more stealthy and faster than the average human. They're built to exceed the strength and abilities of a trained marine. No offense to you, Hank and Scott—” Erik gestures towards them to receive a silent and curt nod from them. “— But, they're regular men in comparison to their abilities. They're valuable men that we don't want to lose, but just like Charles said, your safety is our concern and you're our biggest idol, right now.”

You know that they only want the best for you, but you keep shaking your head. “I don't like it,” you speak barely above a whisper. “Are they even properly tested? What if it malfunctions and something goes haywire?”

“They have been properly tested actually,” Charles nods. “The celebrities that have been assigned one have positively acclaimed their uses and like them quite a lot. If anything goes wrong, you know that we'll be quick to replace it.”

“But—”

“My dear,” Charles tilts his head pointedly. “I hate to say it, but Erik is right. You do not have a say in the matter, not unless you want the next headline in the news to be one dreadful and in mourning.”

With a huff, your shoulders drop. Fuck.

— 

Your new security has a name— Logan Howlett. And you’ve come to realize the appeal to the artificial being. While you have seen pictures of celebrities and their cyberguard, nothing compares to the real thing standing in front of you. Removed from its seven foot box and the styrofoam and wrappings, you would’ve mistaken it for being a real man— an attractive one at that.

You try not to audibly say anything as the handymen continue setting everything up for you in your luxury apartment. Barely home because of your busy schedule, now that you’ve been placed in a witness protection program as you like to call it, you finally have time to give it the homely and comforting touch it desperately needs. And hopefully (it makes you scoff having to say his— its name) Logan Howlett can make itself useful and do some of the heavy lifting.

“Wow,” Hank breathes, impressed by the cyberguard just as you are, though you’d never admit that. “I’m starting to feel less offended about what Mr. Lensherr said. This is a beast of a man.”

“Robot,” you correct him. “You mean, a robot.”

“Well,” he comes to the currently inanimate object’s defense. “It looks human, so might as well—”

“No,” you snort. “It’s not a living thing, so don’t give it the luxury by calling it one.”

“Listen,” Scott finally inserts himself into the conversation, sitting down at your dining table. “I don’t like this as much as you do. You’re right, after all. It does seem like the government wants to get rid of us, but maybe this thing will do you some good. Maybe it can help you more than we were able to.”

Since the concert, the two of your bodyguards who you’ve come close to to the point you consider them family, they’ve never really vocalized their opinions on the matter. They knew it would be too much for you and that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. They don’t want to be reassigned to someone else who might not show the same kindness that you have given them, but there’s enough guilt sitting on their chest as well to cooperate alongside Charles' and Erik’s decision. 

“Just like Charles and Erik said,” Scott continues. “This is temporary. Once people calm down and you’re in a safer position, we’ll be back to you in no time.”

“Do you really believe that?” you frown. “Maybe this is some sort of way to silence me? To play the part as being a public figure that’s silent. This goes against everything I’ve said!”

“Well,” Scott sighs. “Sometimes you have to go against your word in order to get to where you need to be. Plus, they expect you to lock yourself up, so if you stay true to your word—” Scott jabs you in your shoulder, raising his eyebrows in warning “— press won’t release an article about how much of a hypocrite you are.”

“Just…” Hank breathes. “Make sure to keep yourself safe for the time being, okay?”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you smile in a jesting manner and pull Hank in for a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic,” Hank reciprocates the hug, his embrace warm and comforting to you. It lingers for a second longer than ordinarily until he’s pulling away finally. “We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you point at him. Hank chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pantsuit.

“I know you will.”

In another hour, the cyberguard finally lights up. Posture straightening as Logan’s eyes blink open. He has a rather gruff appearance, a scowl settling on his face as he scans his surroundings before his eyes land on you. He’s what the ancient Greeks thought of during the Hellenistic period. Features that seemed to be meticulously crafted by the Cyberguard designers. He has an oval-shaped face, dark facial hair that shapes it magnificently. His hair is styled in a particular way that has you chuckling. Is that why his last name is Howlett? Bouncy hair styled to resemble the ears of a wolf itself. 

His physique is just as spectacular as his facial features, glistening under the light that peers through your windows. His skin is tanned and bulging in muscle that isn’t just for design. His outfit is basic, a white t-shirt that hugs to his skin, a pair of denim jeans and dark boots. Scott reaches for the pamphlet on your coffee table. Leaning to your ear as he stands to your left with Hank at your left, he whispers, “Says here that he’s from Alberta, Canada. Previously a lumberjack—”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, nudging him with a roll of your eyes. Hank snorts, adding his two cents in, “Apparently these bots are designed after real people— ones that have served the country.”

“If you both are still trying to convince me to be fine with this, you’re not,” you frown. “How is that even ethical? And how does that even make sense if he’s Canadian?”

“It is, apparently,” Scott shrugs. “Says that the families consented to this. Seems like he was well remarked during his time.”

“This is absolutely stupid—”

“Hello,” comes a voice abruptly. It’s deep and robotic. “My name is Logan Howlett, previously known as Weapon X by the company Cyberguard. I have been assigned to service (your full name) as a source of safety. It is my pleasure to work with you.”

“That’s our queue to leave,” Scott says, making his way towards the door with Hank, leaving you baffled as the handymen start gathering their belongings and leaving the garbage for you to clean up. 

“Wh��What?” you choke. “That’s it? You both are just supposed to leave me alone with this thing?”

“According to Charles and Erik, yes,” Hank nods. “They said that within the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours, it’s best that the cyberguard gets acclimated to you as it goes through an update to familiarize itself with the… world. Says it’s not safe for more than one other presence while it does so. It’ll view us as a threat.”

“This is complete and utter bullshit,” you mutter under your breath as Scott unlocks the door. He gives you a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “We’ll check up on you when we have the chance. Message us if anything goes wrong. We’ll be available until the week after next.”

“Okay,” you slouch, watching as they give their final farewells. The handymen follow not too long after, leaving you alone with Logan. He simply stands there, watching you and your every move. When you go to the couch, he watches; when you reach for his instruction manual, he watches. From your quick skim of it, you cannot leave the vicinity of whatever area you’re in for the next hour or two so that it can memorize you in your entirety. It’s supposed to perfect its match when it begins to follow your every movement. 

You read through it all, about the questions you ask and what it knows how to do, which is very little outside of providing protection. You learn how to charge it and where it can’t function, informing you of an app that you must download. Reaching for your phone, you do just so as you quickly ditch the paper as you begin to tinker with the app, inserting your bot’s information. You turn on the television to help pass time, but with the meaty man standing before you, it’s hard to focus.

Fortunately, within an hour, he’s finally announcing, “I will undergo a lengthy period of software updates within my system. During that time, you are finally able to move freely, but please make sure not to leave the building whatsoever.”

You finally sigh as you immediately rush to stand on your feet. Your body had started to ache, stretching out your limbs as Logan’s head tilted down and his eyes shut. Underneath his white shirt, a light shines, it’s blue as it starts to hum. 

For the next two days, being on house arrest, you find yourself partaking in the hobbies and tasks that you never had time to do as an idol. It was fun picking up a hook and crocheting to your heart’s content. You didn’t have an idea of what you wanted to make, you just started creating. It brought you a sense of piece as you’ve come to terms about your current predicament. 

Your phone starts buzzing rapidly, multiple notifications coming in at once. You needed to take a break anyway, your hands starting to cramp and you’d hate to get carpal tunnel. You crack your knuckles before picking up your phone. Twitter, Instagram, Netflix with a new movie you’ve been wanting to check out, but most importantly, the Cyberguard app and Ororo. You prioritize Ororo’s message, opening it. You had asked about the condition that Anna Marie was in, one of your background dancers, wondering if the girl would be willing to give you her number so that you could stay in contact with her.

From Ororo: Anna Marie said yes. From Ororo: [ Anna Marie’s Contact Information ] From Ororo: In regards to the fans, they accepted your offer in paying for their medical bills.  From Ororo: But while this is happening, I really want you to look after yourself, love. I understand how you may feel as if this is your fault, but—

You don’t get an opportunity to finish reading the message when you hear a voice inside of your bedroom. “My update has completed and (your full name) is officially under surveillance.”

“Fuck!” you shout, dropping your phone on the bed as you shift around to see the culprit. The Cyberguard itself stands right at your door, taking in your bedroom and its disheveled state. Whenever you start crafting, your room makes sure to hold the evidence of it. The robot takes notice of it, looking at the floor. 

“The current state of your room is not safe to be in,” he states. “It is best that you leave while I prepare it for a more suitable state for you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

If you had paid closer attention to the Cyberguard notification, you would have known that Logan had finished its update, informing you that he was heading to your exact location. You clutch your chest as you finally calm yourself down. For something built to keep you away from fear, it does a very good job at inducing it. 

Of the two days that it spent updating, you’d walk past it and stare at it. You would contemplate on what everyone has told you about the Cyberguard and the pro’s that it presented, but you were adamant on not listening. The two days gave you a chance to really digest everything and your ordeal. If you wanted things to go back to normal, you had to cooperate. You couldn’t keep walking around with a stick up your ass and put yourself in danger again. While you still preferred to have Scott and Hank by your side more than anything else, you were clinging to the hope that this is what’s promised— temporary. So while you had Logan in your possession, you’ll make the best of it— you’ll have fun.

You test the waters, remembering that in the manual, he’s programmed to understand the majority of what you say as if he were a regular human. For everything he doesn’t know, he’ll undergo an update if requested enough outside of his scope. Some people who have Cyberguards in their possession have given you their experiences with them, saying that while they might be initially tasked to protect you and its their main objective, they do evolve into doing more. The idea of it all still creeps you out, sending a chill down your spine, but you start to accept it. You don’t want anyone else to come to harm because of your one-sided ideology. 

“Hello, Logan,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue. “How are you?”

He tilts his head in a way that’s robotic, resembling the movies you watch as the artificial intelligence tries to gain some more understanding. “I am doing well. How are you? Are you doing well?”

A week passes before you’re getting a phone call from Scott. You answer it in a heartbeat. “Took you long enough to call.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly on the phone. We got assigned to someone else sooner than we thought.”

“Excuses, excuses,” you sing, propping the phone in between your ear and shoulder as you stand inside the kitchen, Logan standing not too far away as you’re boiling a pot of noodles. You stir it, making sure not to have it stick to the bottom. “How’re you? How’s Hank doing? Who are you guys assigned to?”

“I’m doing fine,” Scott shrugs on the other line. “I’m with someone that’s actually pretty chill despite his cold attitude to the media. Dutch Duval— you’ve met him before, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “In passing. Good to see that he’s warm around you. I didn’t get that luxury.”

“Man,” Scott sucks his teeth. “That sucks. Maybe he’s a he-man woman hater.”

You laugh at the reference. “Nah, maybe he’s cool. He did seem to be in a rush when we were introduced. What about Hank? How’s he doing?”

“He got the short end of the stick,” Scott says. “Hired twenty-four-seven. The asshole won’t even let him get a break for himself outside of pissing, eating and breathing.”

“Damn,” you breathe. “That’s tough. Hope the jackass doesn’t try to keep him permanently though. He’s mine.”

You giggle jokingly, but Scott doesn’t meet your laughter. Only responding with a ‘yeah.’ “You’re asking so much about us, what’s up with you and Logan? You haven’t called us at all, so we can only assume he’s safe and functionable.”

“Yeah,” you hum. “He works. Can’t say much about him, though. Does what he’s told and always trailing me like a lost puppy.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be for too long.”

“Six months is too long in my book,” you scoff. 

“They said three to six months,” Scott corrects you. “You should be more optimistic.”

“I’ll try harder just for you,” your voice is monotone.

“I’ve got to go,” Scott comes to end the call. “I’ll talk to you whenever I can, ‘kay? Call me if you ever need anything.”

“That’s what I have Logan for, remember?” you point. “But, will do. Talk to you whenever.”

Scott doesn’t respond, simply ending the conversation there before you hear the line go dead. The water starts to bubble and you give the pot of noodles a good two more minutes before you’re pouring the majority of the water in the sink. However, as you’re pouring, you carelessly look away, the hot pot getting too close to your skin and burning you. You yelp in pain as you nearly drop the noodles down the drain. “Shit,” you curse, before you feel arms around your waist and pull you back. 

“Scanning area to see the severity of the wound,” he announces, grabbing a hold of your wrist, a flash of blue shining in his brown eyes. “Seems to be a first degree burn. Can be handled with ice or running underneath cold water.”

Still holding onto your wrist, he leads you to the sink as he moves the pot aside and turns on the pipe. This is the first time that you’ve been under any “danger,” rendering you speechless as you watch him in action. Shifting the pipe to blue, he pulls your wrist to the water. There’s a momentary sting before it resolves in a comforting feeling, you exhale as the pain leaves your body. Watching you and feeling how your heart rate eases back down, Logan asks you, “You are back in a calm state. How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” you reply. “I’m fine now.”

Letting go of you, Logan returns back to his previous position. “Due to your carelessness, I deem that cooking isn’t appropriate for you. I will undergo an update in order to learn culinary skills to better serve you.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Due to my carelessness? It was an accident.”

“An accident that resulted in you getting hurt,” he retorts.

“I don’t need you cooking for me,” you shoot back. “I can do it on my own.”

“My update will begin at the start of midnight and last for approximately twelve to twenty-four hours,” he responds. “You may finish making your meals until then.”

You continue watching Logan incredulously, continuously snorting and huffing under your breath about what he said. You're sure that he hears you, but has the knowledge to understand that he doesn’t need to answer back. If it wasn’t for his robotic way of speaking, you could swear you were arguing with a real person. 

Give the robot a chance, they said, you think, resuming fixing your noodles. If I knew it would be so sassy with me, I would’ve fought harder to not have it.

—

“The father is the murderer,” Logan announces from his side of the couch abruptly as your eyes are glued to the screen. Blue lights illuminate from the television screen in the dark as you’re covered underneath a blanket with a bag of Cheeto Puffs residing next to you. Logan sits up obnoxiously straight, a creation of perfection. You’ve managed to change him from his old attire, which proved to be harder as he was stubborn as a mule. Constantly arguing over your safety as he swatted at your hand from reaching for the hem of his shirt. Finally, you managed to convince him that because of the dirt, it could lead to you getting sick and potentially dying. His programming to be concerned over your very being worked as it was able to convince him to shed the shirt and pants. 

Your chest could burst from his incredible physique, his pectorals and abdomen lined and glossed. Every inch of his was thoroughly made as body hair veiled his chest, even more closely replicating a human. Is this how the original one looked like? You thought to yourself before snapping back to reality. Now, he’s sitting across from you, eyes glued to the screen with his arms bulging out in the black shirt all the same as the white. You furrow your eyebrows as you wonder just how he knows that bit of information, possibly spoiling the entire show for you.

“How do you know?” You ask, shoving a few puffs into your mouth and chewing.

“It’s best that you eat one chip at a time to prevent choking,” he advises. Over time, you’ve come to ignore him in moments like this. 

“How do you know that the father is the killer?” you repeat, elongating your question.

“His body language,” he simply responds. “He’s so calm and controlling of the situation that it’s so obvious.”

“But, it could be anyone of them,” you point out. “Everyone of the suspects has a motive to kill.”

“You’re right, but according to my research, it’s the father,” he spoils, causing you to slap the arm of the chair. You groan.

“Ugh, that’s cheating!” you exclaim, throwing your head back. “Now you spoiled the entire show for me.”

“Isn’t the entire objective of the show is to find out who the killer is?” he asks, confused as to why you’re upset. He thought he was doing you a favor by telling you who it was in order to decrease your levels of stress that he gathered from you. “It’s apparent to me that your stress levels have risen since starting this show. I need to decrease them for your safety.”

“Sometimes,” you start, “sometimes stress isn’t bad. There are some things that people are stressed about that aren't going to harm them. Like, television shows, crossword puzzles, and murder mysteries. And, it’s fun to try and guess instead of looking up the answer.”

“Is that so?” Logan’s eyebrows knit together, taking in the information. “I will surely have to update some more to better understand that.”

Recently, he’s been constantly updating for all sorts of absurd reasons. He always retorts that it’s all for your safety and to better understand how to fit your needs, but they’ve become about the most mundane things in life. One of them being the stupid joke, ‘why did the chicken cross the road?’ and how exactly is it meant to be funny. It’s adorable, closely resembling a child learning about the world for the first time and how it functions. You hate to say it, but you’ve come to enjoy his company.

The next time he watches anything with you, he makes sure not to do research in his database, simply going based on what he’s come to learn from your fondness of mysteries and films. 

“It’s going to be…” you twist your lip upward, squinting at the screen as you try to point out the possible murderer. “The pregnant girl.”

“How so?” Logan hums, skeptical of your choice.

“No one suspects the pregnant girl,” you say. “Kind of makes it badass actually.”

“Badass?” He questions your choice of words. “Murder is badass.”

“No, but being the underdog is,” you try to explain yourself. “The unexpected. No one will see it coming as the cops will believe it’s everyone else, but her.”

“That’s…” Logan thinks about your explanation, a blue glint in his eyes. “That’s smart actually.”

“I know right!” you beam. “I’m a genius.”

You’re right. Logan has been updating quite periodically, and every time he does so, it’s quicker than the last. Now a regular update from him only lasts for about an hour or two. He feels more connected to you. He feels more human this way. It started off innocently, trying to better his understanding about the human body and its health, learning that it ranges and differs in each person. Until it comes to other things that he noticed. What you do in your spare time, how you’re an idol and just what that is. Every single abstract thing he deems important and fascinating, he upgrades his database so that he can reference it when he needs to. 

He knows everything about you and what information the internet is willing to offer. He knows the name of your parents, where they’re from and the lineage that follows. He learns that you’re opinionated, very much so, and you have a disdain to creations like him. He can’t quite wrap his mind around it still, seeing how you seem so friendly, but you’ve noticed how you refer to him as an it, naming an object that isn’t alive. 

He comes to learn that you hate the concept of his very being because you feel as though he’s your competition to life itself. But of the two months that he’s been living here, he’s been trying to be equal to you to better keep you safe, to better understand you. There’s no way that he could compare to you when he wants to be your equal.

This fast-paced gain of knowledge makes him all too aware that he shouldn’t feel this way. That he shouldn’t be trying to grasp onto something that he’s not and that he’ll never be, but he was tasked to you. What better way is there to serve as your bodyguard if he can’t understand you in his entirety?

There’s a loud and hefty knock coming from your front door. Perched at the desk inside your bedroom, he watches as you jump up from your bed and dash out into the hall. Raising his eyebrows in question to who could have you so excited, he’s on his feet as he’s right behind you in a matter of seconds, ready to answer the door for you.

“It’s okay, I know just who it is,” you dismiss him, but he butts in and pulls your hand away. 

“I am still tasked for your protection,” he says. “That means answering the door and checking the vicinity for you.”

You no longer argue with Logan, letting him check through the peephole and scanning the two individuals through it— Scott Summers and Henry “Hank” McCoy. His mental files pull up that these two were your former bodyguards as you remember a conversation that you had previously, insinuating that he was only a temporary fix and not tasked to you forever. If he had a heart, he would proudly say it’d drop.

After he continues his check, he concludes that it is safe for them to come in. Opening the door for you and being the first thing they see when they enter. You frown as the door swings open, seeing how Hank and Scott were expecting to see you first instead of their replacement. 

“Oh,” comes from the lips of Scott as he comes unsure on how to greet Logan, so the robot does it for him. He holds out his hand, waiting for the gesture to be reciprocated. “Logan Howlett. Nice to meet the two of you.”

They stare at Logan with amazement, hearing how the cadence in his voice differs tremendously to how he was at first. They’re speechless and unmoving at first until Hank’s the one to break before Scott, taking Logan’s hand to be met with a strong grip. He nods politely, a tight-lipped smile forming on his lips. “I’m Henry McCoy. Everyone calls me Hank, though. This is—”

“I can introduce myself,” Scott nudges Hank, sending a playful glare. “Scott Summers.”

Scott feels the same pain that Hank experienced, taking Logan’s hand for a firm shake. Still, he smiles through it, already wary of the bot as something seems off about it. “I see you’ve kept our girl safe.”

“Your girl?” Logan inquires with the raise of a brow, eyes glancing between the two of them, having learnt the concept of jealousy. 

“Yes,” Scott smiles. “Our girl.”

Tired of the exchange, you remove Logan’s hand, it immediately loosening at your touch as you pull Scott and Hank in for a hug. “I’ve missed you guys so much.”

They both pull you in for a hug, but neither of them miss the way Logan watches them intently, noticing how his nostrils flare and his eyes flash blue. 

—

“I’m starting to understand why you were so hesitant on getting it now,” Hank gestures to Logan, who appears not to be paying too much mind to the two. His eyes glued to the television as he clicks between the shows. Hank’s left eye twitches, gently shaking his head as he watches from a distance. Scott shares the same concerns as well as he keeps some distance from Logan, residing on the opposite end of the couch. Unbeknownst to them that he hears it all. 

“Getting what?” you ask oblivious to what he’s referring to, sitting around the dining area with him. Looking at you in confusion, Hank notices a shift within your behavior. Where you were once angry and stiff at the prospect of a Cyberguard, you’re now seemingly comfortable with it inside your house.

“Logan,” Hank answers. “The cyberguard.”

“Oh,” you purse your lips, it dawning upon you. “Yeah, well, I took your advice and gave it a chance. I spoke to other people that had a cyberguard and they all said that if I gave it a chance, they could be very useful. And he is.”

“But,” Hank squirms, trying to word what he’s about to say perfectly. “Doesn’t it alarm you? How attached to hip he is to you?”

“He’s been like that the moment he finished updating the first time,” you shrug.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I mean, don’t you find him too human? The way he acted when he first came— how he’s watching television right now?”

“He’s just doing what he’s been programmed to do,” you take it so nonchalantly, dismissing Hank’s concerns. “And like I told you, everyone I spoke to said that was normal behavior. They evolve to better suit your needs.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N)...”

“Listen,” you exhale. “I still want you guys as my full-time bodyguards, but I have four more months left because the messages and the threats still haven’t cooled down. So I have to play it cool and go about my days as if it’s regular. He’s not a harm to anyone and if he becomes one, you and Scott will be the first people to know about it.”

You and Scott will be the first people to know about it. 

“Okay, fine,” Hank breathes, your apartment starting to feel uncomfortable. His voice picks up as he pushes out the chair. “Y’know what? We gotta go.”

“Huh?” you question the sudden movement. “Wait— what? Hank, nooooo.”

“Something just came up and we need to be there,” Hank motions to Scott to follow him, which doesn’t go questioned as he gets to his feet as well. Your chair legs scratch against the tile floor as you look from between the two, going after them as they hurry to the door. 

“Don’t be serious, Hank,” you pout. “Scott, please! We barely had any time together.”

“I think two hours was enough time,” Hank remarks, catching you off guard. Mouth going dry, you stop in your trail as your body stills. They make their way out as Scott throws an apologetic smile your way. “See you later, (Y/N).”

Storming to his vehicle, Hank doesn’t wait for Scott to catch up to him, simply unlocking his doors and jumping in. When Scott catches up, he only looks at Hank before waiting for him to speak.

“There’s something wrong with that bot,” Hank states the obvious.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Scott snorts. “What did (Y/N) say?”

“She referred to it as if it was a person,” Hank looks at Scott. “She never usually gives in so easily.”

“Well,” Scott shifts in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt. “We did tell her to try to.”

“Yeah, but even so,” Hank shakes his head. “There’s something wrong with it. Staring us down as if we were stealing his girl. Questioning us— ‘your girl?’ That’s (Y/N)’s living nightmare and she didn’t seem to suspect a thing.”

“You’re right,” Scott mumbles. “We definitely have to report our suspicions. That thing isn’t safe for her.”

“You’re telling me,” Hank exasperates, finally starting the car engine, putting the car in reverse. Pulling out of the spot, Hank looks towards your apartment, immediately noticing the window. There Logan is, glaring right at the two of them.

“And there goes the fucker,” he curses. “Watching us.”

—

When he’s finally outside of his eyesight, he shuts back the curtains and trudges back to your slumped body on the couch. For them to have the nerve of showing up to only put you in an upset state. Logan has never seen you like this before, it elicits a certain reaction that feels carnal and violent. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his faux skin before he feels something piercing it. It’s only a sliver before he retracts and goes back into a calming state, but he felt it— whatever it was. 

“You’re not okay,” he states. “Would you like for me to start the shower for you so that you can relax?”

He remembers you mentioning that the shower was your only time where you got to properly relax and think. The heat of the water calms you down to the point you’d stay until the water gets cold and your skin resembles a prune. He wishes he could experience that feeling with you. He’d need it in a moment like this where he feels something flaring up within his chest. 

Pushing yourself to sit up, you nod. “Yeah, maybe that’ll do some good.”

He does what he suggested, heading straight to the bathroom in order to start the water. Pushing in the plug and sprinkling in the bath salts for you before turning on the pipe. He sets it close to red, waiting until he recognizes the scent of lavender and patchouli and sees the steam starting to form. He teeters and plays with the temperature before the water is at a reasonable height before switching off the pipe, and announcing that it’s ready.

It takes you a moment to get up from the couch, shuffling your way towards the bathroom. You don’t acknowledge his kindness, never thanking him before you shut the bathroom door and twist the lock despite the many times he’s advised you not to. He ignores it, turning on his heel as he heads straight for the door. In his database, he pulls up Henry McCoy and Scott Summers. 

When you get out of the shower, it’s too quiet. However, your mind is fogged with hurt to even care. If anything, Logan’s silence is a blessing right now. It’s what you need. Reaching for your towel and you unplug the drag, hearing the gurgling sound of water traveling down the pipe. A shower was exactly what you needed, though you still feel emotions bubbling on your chest as your sadness turns into anger. You feel foolish for being mad at Hank’s concern, but you knew the moment he stood up that it was bullshit as to why he was leaving.

You had cooperated with everyone. You did what they told you to do for the couple of months that you’ve been placed on house arrest. You constantly checked in with Anna Marie and the rest of those who got hurt, knowing that they’re in better and healthier conditions now that the months have passed. You stayed silent on social media and rarely checked in, but now that you are complacent, just like it was expected of you, Hank had the audacity to be mad at you. 

Logan’s behavior was questionable, you couldn’t doubt it, but you believed it to be the way he was programmed. To be locked inside for so long to the point you barely left the house, and when you did, it was to go on your patio. He had been skeptical of your neighbors, eyeing them down and collecting information in a manner of minutes. He needed to know who could be a possible threat to you, and maybe, just maybe, saying “our girl” had flashed some red flags in his hard drive.

The bath wasn’t enough, you conclude, pulling on a baggy t-shirt and shorts before diving onto your bed. Sleep would have to be the final blow.

—

The claws that stretched from his knuckles were covered in blood and the flesh he cut into. Two lifeless bodies before him laid there as he bent down to rip out a clean piece of fabric. He’s done research on Cyberguard, learning that there is something wrong with him. In his files, none of it mentions the metal claws coming out of his hands. But, that’s the only flaw he has come to accept.

He’s been gone for too long, and while the sky is dark, there’s still a possibility that you’re still awake. He’s grateful to know where you’ve stashed your spare key. However, with one look at him, he’s dirty and you’d know that he’s been out. Having never left your side, he doesn’t want to take a chance seeing you speculate his whereabouts. 

Cleaning the blades that protrude his skin, he finds one thing about his robotic state useful. He has no fingerprints. Inside of Hank’s apartment, it becomes Logan’s personal closet as he rids himself of his clothes and replaces them with something new and similar to what he previously had on. He wipes down his boots, however, not stopping until it shines and fixes his hair. When everything about him seems like nothing is out of the ordinary, he’s finally ready to leave. 

However, through the windows, he starts to see the flashing of red and blue. He’s seen too many films and documentaries to know that it’s not a good sign. He’s grateful that he never planned to leave the way he came in, quickly searching for another escape route. Sliding the patio door open, he shuts it back quickly before making the long jump, not caring how it may affect the inside of him. He was made to withstand many things, so this fall shouldn’t be a heavy detriment. He grunts when he makes the landing, dashing out of the light as he quickly conjures up another route back to you. 

By the time he locks the door, taking a step into your apartment, you’re fast asleep. You’ve left the television on and by the way that there’s no dishes in the sink, you fell asleep on an empty stomach. He huffs at your lack of care for yourself. Luckily, there are leftovers to which he can feed you when you awake. He switches off the television before making a beeline straight to your bedroom door. It’s shut and when he twists the handle, it’s completely dark inside. He inches closer towards you, where he can check on your heart rate, when he notices that it’s at a pace to when you’re waking up. Your voice sounds before he can completely register.

“Logan,” you squeak, voice scratchy as you take a seat in the bed. You reach to turn on your bedside lamp, revealing your disheveled and exhausted state. The t-shirt you’re wearing has been cut around the neck, to the point where it can fall and reveal your breasts. “What have I told you about watching me like a creep?”

You giggle, indicating that you haven’t detected a thing, still completely unaware. Great.

However, his eyes roam you, taking notice of your pert nipples and how they poke through your shirt. Your bonnet is sliding off your head, and your eyes are still burdened with sleep that he now completely understands the sexual appeal. He feels something whirr inside him before he’s taking a seat next to you without a word. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he breathes. “I’ve watched your movies, seen porn and watched men and women have— same sex and the opposite gender.”

He can feel your heart rate pick up as you become more awake, processing his words. “Logan, what—”

“I want to try out what I’ve learned,” he cuts you off. Your eyes widen as it comes to dawn on you that maybe Hank was right. That maybe you have become blinded and completely oblivious to the way Logan acts. You start to question your colleagues and everyone else who's told you about their experiences, always hinting at more, but you never caught on to what they were saying. They said that Cyberguard could always do more, that you could work them to your own benefit. Was this what they meant by that? 

Before you can utter out another word, Logan’s invading more of your space and you can feel the heat of him on you. “Don’t tell me no. Please don’t tell me no.”

Your breath hitches because you should be scared. You should tell me no and part of you does, but you’ve also grown curious. His eyes shine blue at that moment, and you gulp. Your body speaks for you, reaching to cling onto the fabric of his shirt. Something about it feels foreign to your touch, but you don’t question it. You question none of it, only staring into his harsh brown eyes and nodding. “Okay,” you whisper. 

It’s all that he needs to hear for confirmation, pulling you tight within his hold as he wastes no time in putting you on his lap. Staring into your eyes before they traverse down your body, how no matter what, you always manage to shine. He tugs at your shirt, pulling further down to reveal your breasts. Your dark nipples pebbled and sensitive as they scrape against the fabric and your breath hitches in need. Your hips buck into him, hands wrapping around his neck dig your fingers into his skin. It feels soft, the texture closely imitating the real thing. 

“Logan,” you gasp, feeling how his pelvis meets you at your core, eliciting a string of your juices at the friction. Seeing the desire in your eyes, the visceral want and need inside them. It’s all he’s ever wanted. It makes him feel equal— equal to you. His hand reaches to caress your face, feeling the hairs against your skin before squeezing down gently and making your lips pucker out a bit.

“Tell me that you need me,” he whispers, voice growing huskier as his hold gets tighter. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“I need you, Logan,” you give him exactly what he wants, hips rising as your heat only grows. “Need you and want you so badly… It hurts.”

You don’t know what you’re saying, not sure if you’re telling him that he’s hurting you or that if the ache in your sweet cunt needs to be alleviated to the point it hurts. The ladder feels more true as you clench around nothing, a coil in your stomach starting to form in a want that you’ve never experienced before. Staring back into his pupils that shimmer of blue is still there. “Tell me you love me.”

“I—” you choke, not sure if you’re able to muster up those words, remembering that he’s not real. You splutter as his hand wraps around your neck, squeezing to the point you can barely breathe. “I—”

In a matter of seconds, you’re on your back, the wind knocked out of you before you can even process the change of positions. There’s something maniacal about the way Logan looks at you now, the fine lines on his forehead fixed in fury as he searches through eyes, staring down into your pupils for the truth. “Don’t worry,” he assures you. “I’ll make sure you learn to.” 

His lips crash down into yours, feeling the wetness of your tongue as he sucks you in. His weight against you keeps you still, trapping you in your dared to move. Your arms still draped around his neck, cling to him as mewl and whine at the pressure of his weight. Bucking your hips ever so slightly, feeling your arousal cling to your panties and seep down to the crotch of your shorts. 

Is this right? A sense of rationality seeping through you, residing deep in your bones as something nags at your chest. Your sense of morality, what you’ve been using your career to fight for. This goes against it. However, the more you fought, the more people got hurt. Flashes of Anna Marie plaguing your memory as your rapport against Logan weakens in a matter of seconds. You sought for a change for it to only falter and nearly end lives. So is it wrong to give in once more? 

Logan starts to thrust his hips into you, grunts and groans that he replicates from what he’s seen, his motion sensors feeling his appendage rub against your pussy and eliciting something within him— lust. “You’ll be mine by the end of all this. You won’t be needing them.”

You have no clue as to what he’s talking about, focusing on yourself and the need you have for Logan right now. His kiss is rough against your skin, your saliva softening the contact as he hums against you. He nips and bites at you ever-so-often, nearly drawing blood until his sensors go off. He feels like an animal, needing you in a way that’s entirely inhumane. The adrenaline of killing your former pets still coursing through his veins, proud to be your only one as of now. As of forever. 

“Let me have you whatever way I want,” he commands. “Give me permission to.”

There’s no doubt in your mind, quickly to oblige him without a second thought. “Of course. Yes, Logan.”

Your shirt tears, a loud rip sounding through the silence of your bedroom. It’s a true show of his brute strength in your eyes, but for him, it’s not even an inch to what he’s truly capable of. The next he rids you of are your shorts, leaving your flimsy panties for last as he can see the wet patch right at the crotch of it. A thumb presses down on it, just as he’s seen through many videos. However, he’s not gentle when he pushes down on your clit, seeing bubbles starting to form through the cotton. 

You mewl in slight discomfort, squirming underneath him that he slaps your inner thigh and demanding that you stay still. One hand holds you down to make sure of it as he glides his thumb up and down, feeling your wetness. “Mmmm…” he drags, feeling satisfaction at how he’s making you feel. 

He slips your panties to the side, it being the one thing he doesn’t want to damage through this intercourse. His thumb pushing right at your entrance to feel how your body tenses at the invasion. “Relax,” he whispers. “You know I would never bring you into real harm.”

The reminder settles you down as he spreads your legs wider for him, his thumb protruding your walls and getting a taste of what it feels like. The both of you moan in delight, his thick digit pushing until the hilt. However, it doesn’t fill you up like you want and need, ultimately needing more of him. He’s dead set on tormenting you, fucking you languidly and slowly with his thumb. He basks in the squelch of your pussy, how your arousal bubbles and drips out of you and down in the crevices of your ass. 

“Logan,” you whine. “More.”

“Do you think you deserve it?” he retorts, pulling out his thumb to glide against your folds and back up to your clit. “Do you think you deserve more?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod meekly. “Know I do.”

“Is that so?” he hums, and you can only nod some more. He chuckles, thinking about Hank and Scott once more. How you were so eager to invite other men into your home. Not considering him and how he’d feel to other men around you. Did you really care so little about your own safety? But, he’ll still give you what you want— what you need. Maybe it’ll be the best medicine to heal you. 

Pressing his thumb against your lip, he pushes down as they stay closed. “Open,” he commands. “Taste how wet you are for me.”

Just the obedient girl you’re proving yourself to be, you open up your mouth. Immediately, your tongue swirls around his thumb, cleaning off your arousal. Eye contact remains with him, eyes seeming to sparkle as you hum and moan around his digit. A violent groan builds up from the pit of the chest as he can only imagine the other men you’ve been with. It’s enough for him to yank you by the waist into him and flip you around, treating you as if you’re a ragdoll. 

Your back is to him now, pressed against his chest. You can still feel his clothes on, realizing just how vulnerable you are as he moves you against his clothed state. His arms wrap around your neck, bulging out to cut off the flow of air. Veins protrude and it becomes dizzying as he whispers in your ear. “You’re a nasty little slut, I hope you know that.”

Everything about this is exhausting. The quick and swift changes in emotions, how he goes from being needy and wanting to manhandling you as if you’re nothing. From wanting you to tell him that you love him to degrading you. You can’t wrap your mind around it as his grip tightens around you and your vision becomes fuzzy. He fluctuates with his hold, knowing just when you’re about to lose consciousness and not. He’s coming to find it to be a fun game, toying with your safety. 

“Only I should be the cause of your pain and pleasure,” he seethes into your ear. “Do you hear me?”

When you don’t respond, you feel a sting against your pussy. You yelp out at the pain as he repeats himself, “do you hear me?”

It’s menacing and guttural to the point where you’re tearing up. You nod as you croak out, “yes.”

“You’re going to take what I give you, okay?” He waits for your approval. “Just like you promised from before. No going back on your word because you’re a good girl.”

He affirms this before he’s rolling his hips, making you feel the bulge against your ass. One arm around your neck as your hands cling to it as the next pulls your hips into him. He continues at this until your breathing is erratic and he’s done his tormenting. 

Then he shuffled around to tug down his jeans, ridding himself of both the garment and undergarment, but not before kicking off his boots. They fall to the ground with a clunk as his jeans pool at his feet and he can hear them rubbing together before they’re successfully off. You can feel it against your back, how it’s large and inhuman. Eyes that bulge as you arch your back.

“Logan, you’re so big,” you gasp. “Don’t know if—” 

He hushes you with another smack, this one softer than the previous. Shhh follows after as he calms you. “You promised, didn’t you?”

You can only hum out a response as the bicep around your neck tightens. 

“You’re a strong girl. It’ll fit.”

Arms reaching underneath your legs, holding underneath the joints of your knees to lift them up to your chest. He pulls you up, making you rise until he can slot his dick in between your folds and your underwear. With both of his arms occupied, he can only have faith within the band of fabric to keep his length in place. Strings of your juices drip down to the sheets of your bed, small droplets being absorbed as you coat his cock in your essence. A sweet nectar that many people want to taste, but he’ll be sure to prevent it from happening. 

He bounces you on his lap, letting go of your legs and pressing himself further against you. There’s many things that he wishes himself to do. Like the ability to get hard, to be able for you to feel just how you make him feel. For precum to leak from the tip of his cock and not the illusion of a hole just for the accuracy of his design. He wants you to feel him twitch inside you before he cums, shooting ropes of white as your pussy milks him. However, he can only align his cock with your entrance and make you feel good. But, how is he supposed to feel equal to you if he can’t replicate a real man?

He takes his time entering you, his head testing the waters before he’s entering inch by inch. He can press into your stomach, feeling where his head stops as he can’t fully sheath himself inside you. Just as you had claimed. He was too big. Still, he upholds the power as his arm goes to wrap snug around your legs, lifting them up to push into your breasts as the next blocks you from smooth breathing. 

He’s no gentleman as he’s painted himself to be, laying on his back and pulling down with him. Drilling into your cunt with a vice grip around your body that you constantly are on the very fine line between passing out and consciousness. Still, your mind stays warped within the pleasure, focusing on how it’s making you feel and wanting him more. Your room is filled with the sound of yours and his moans intermingling with the slaps of your wet pussy and his dangerous thrusts as the stench of your cunt seeps through the conditioned air. Your cunt squelches, queefing every so often as it gets wetter. Tears staining your face as you call out his name and begging for more.

You cry out in pleasure, feeling how his cock beats down at your walls, kissing at your cervix. Constantly hitting that one spot inside of you that he has you seeing stars. You’re starting to choke out your moans, trying to make a coherent sentence out to him. “Lo-Lo— ‘m g’nna…”

You don’t have to finish what you’re about to say for him to know. Your body convulses and pulsates as he continues, keeping the same vigorous pain as he’ll have your pussy bruised and battered by the end of it. “C’mon,” he groans into your ear. “Cum like the good little bitch that you are.”

With a few more thrusts, a translucent mess splashes from you, splattering at great lengths from your sheet covers and down to the ground. Your body vibrates and spasms as Logan’s hold on you eases and he lets your body calm down. You’re breathing heavily as your throat’s gone dry and the dark and splotchy vision clears up. You exhale sharply as you come to terms with everything. Your naked body and Logan’s cock inside of you. He’s planting chaste kisses against your neck and jawline, holding you close to him. 

“Now you’ve got everything you need.”

—

The next morning, you wake up clean, except for your sheets. You can still feel dampness from your release as well as the arms that hold you close to them. You let out a yawn, squinting as the sun dares to peek through the blinds as you see your phone lighting up and over one hundred messages flashing over it. Some from Charles, others from Erik and the rest from Ororo. Glancing at Logan, he remains in slip mode, the light where a heart would be lighting up yellow. 

Plenty of the notifications are from incessant missed calls that rang from five in the morning until now before an urgent message reading, Call as soon as you wake up, from both Charles and Erik. The next set of messages you check from Ororo, having called you back to back as well before these rows of messages.

From Ororo: From what I’m guessing, you’re asleep and your phone is on silent. When you get this CALL ME. From Ororo: You’re still not up and it’s important that you know what happened. I’m sorry. From Ororo: [link attached]

You click on the link, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, absentmindedly clicking the link. The video you’re brought to is on medium volume, but it seems like it’s at full volume the moment it starts playing, just as Logan’s light turns to green.

This just in! Two men found dead inside of their shared apartment home. Neighbors have reported loud and worrisome sounds at the dead of night, saying it sounded like a very brutal fight before screams of pain sounded through walls. When police arrived, the two bodies were found in such a gruesome state. 

They were seen to have three deep gashes in their skin, closely resembling an animal attack before being impaled in the chest. It’s speculated to be an animal attack, but authorities are speculating as the escape route seemed to be through the balcony door and having jumped five stories down. They’re battling between who or what could’ve done such a monstrous thing. 

The two victims that were identified were Henry McCoy and Scott Summers—

Your phone is snatched from your hands as you choke out a sob, having caught a glimpse of their faces on screen. While Logan would typically tend to your tears and heartache, the news outlet blinds him from doing so as he turns off the video and sets your phone down on the opposite side of you and out of reach.

“You shouldn’t burden yourself with such things in the early morning.”

( author's note. ) my back mfing hurts from writing this pretty much all day. i hope you guys love it because i really enjoyed writing this.

[sokoviansimp]

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader

✒ Summary: Tension builds when Wanda and Y/N, who hate each other, are sent on a mission with Y/N's best friend, Natasha, and her wife Maria. The mission doesn't exactly go to plan.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, kidnapping, chemicals, hospital, bickering, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: not proofread, because I'm really high rn and want to get this out because it's been in my drafts for like a month but I've been so busy with moving, and working 2 jobs, and just life changes.

✒ Word Count: 9523

✒ Read Time: 24 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

The dimly lit, high-tech briefing room at the SHIELD headquarters buzzed with anticipation. Agents of all kinds filled the seats, their eyes trained on the enormous screen at the front. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, stood at the head of the room, her signature poise and confidence emanating from her.

You sat nearby, attention locked onto the screen. You had earned your place among the elite Shield agents through sheer skill and determination, graduating early from the academy. Your sharp mind and lightning-quick reflexes made you one of the best in the business. 

Natasha, after glancing over to her wife, Maria, began the mission briefing. "Our intel suggests that a rogue group of Hydra operatives has obtained a dangerous chemical compound. We need to secure it before they can use it for any nefarious purposes. We’ll be sending a small team in to infiltrate, if all goes to plan we should be in and out within 2 days. Y/N, you’ll partner with Wanda, and Maria will come with me,” Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes and let out a small huff at being paired with you, “The tac team will meet us on day 2 by the south entrance to secure the base. Everyone clear?” Nat finished as she looked around the room to see a bunch of heads bobbing in confirmation. 

Once everyone had filed out, you and Wanda hung back to discuss infiltration plans with Maria and Natasha. Nat explained that the trek to get to the area undetected would take a day, you would sleep at a small cabin safe house on the outskirts of the forest, and then the next day you would stealthily breach the border to the Hydra base and seize control of the chemical before letting the tac team in to finish up. 

“Sounds like a plan, but why do y/n and I have to be partners on this?” Wanda added trying everything she could to get out of being stuck with you by her side. 

“Now, I know you two love to bicker, but we’re all adults here. I’m sure you two can push your differences aside for 2 days.” Natasha explained as she shot Wanda a pointed look. She knew the brunette had her grievances about you and, as much as Nat loved you, she also knew how annoying you could be on the surface, but you two were also the ones Nat trusted most, aside from her wife, to have her six.

“I don’t see that being a problem, do you Wanda?” you confirmed with a smug smirk on your face, knowing you would have ample time to get under Wanda’s skin. Bickering with the brunette was something you would never admit you actually enjoyed, but you did. You loved getting her going and sometimes you could even imagine the smoke blowing out of her ears from how much you drove her crazy. You found herself drawn to Wanda's reactions, the way her cheeks would flush with annoyance, or her lips would curl into a sly smile when she caught on to your teasing. You unknowingly reveled in the attention it garnered from Wanda.

Wanda’s gaze shifted back to the screen as her brows knit tightly together forming a slight furrow in the middle of her forehead, “Guess not, when do we leave” she asked tightly pressing her lips together.

“Wheels up in 30” Nat informed as everyone filed out to pack. 

You leaned against a nearby table, eyeing Wanda as she adjusted her gear. "Wanda, are you sure you're ready for this mission? I mean, it's not as easy as manipulating some red energy."

Wanda shot you a withering look, her scarlet eyes flashing. "Not everything can be solved by punching first and asking questions later, Sprints. Some of us have to use our brains."

Wanda had given you the nickname, Sprints, one day when you were training in the compound with Nat. Shield agents don't typically train at the compound, but your close friendship with Natasha made you an exception. This day, you had been bragging about setting a new in-house record for the 100-meter dash.

You chuckled, unfazed. "Brains, huh? Well, I'm glad one of us has 'em."

Wanda smirked, her accent lacing her words with a hint of sarcasm. "And I'm glad one of us doesn't rely solely on brute force."

You couldn't resist a playful jab. "True, but at least when I hit something, it stays down. Can't say the same for your mind tricks."

Wanda's lips curled into a wry smile. "Wanna test that theory?" she said pointedly as she raised her hand and her magic swirled around in her fingertips. 

Just then, Nat entered breaking up the standoff between you and Wanda, “Knock it off you two, the jet is taking off in 5, get loaded up,” Nat instructed as she watched Wanda walk by you and slightly nudge your shoulder as you innocently raised your hands toward Natasha, “Now.” she said firmly causing you to scurry off with your bag in Wanda’s trail. 

As the quin-jet roared to life, and with Nat and Maria both in the cockpit, you couldn't resist the urge to tease Wanda. You knew how to push the right buttons, and her playful, sometimes very real, annoyance was on full display.

You leaned across the narrow aisle, grinning mischievously at Wanda, who was quietly reading a book on her tablet. "Hey, Wanda," you began, your tone a touch too cheerful, "since we're going up against Hydra today, maybe you can use your mind tricks to make them forget they ever messed with us."

Wanda glanced at her with a bemused expression, clearly unimpressed. "Y/N, my powers don't work that way, and you know it."

Y/N pretended to ponder this for a moment, tapping her chin with a playful smirk. "Hmm, shame. It would've made our job so much easier. But hey, don't worry. I'm sure you'll find some other way to be useful."

Wanda sighed, shaking her head as she shifted her focus back to her book. She was clearly unamused by your antics.

As the quin-jet touched down in a remote area, nearly 10 miles from their target location, the four of you gathered your gear and prepared to embark on your covert trek. The evening was closing in quickly and with the loss of the sun, it would start getting cold soon.

Natasha, the team leader, huddled the group together for a final briefing. "Remember, we need to reach the cabin undetected. This is a highly secured area, and any alert could jeopardize the mission. Y/N and Wanda, I need you two to put your differences aside and work together. Our success depends on it." 

Y/N exchanged a begrudging glance with Wanda but nodded in agreement. "Got it, Nat. I'll try not to annoy Wanda too much."

Wanda rolled her eyes but remained silent, her focus on the task at hand.

The team set out on their trek, moving silently through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the fallen leaves and underbrush. Y/N and Wanda found themselves side by side, each step of the way requiring them to cooperate and coordinate their movements to avoid detection.

Every now and then, an armored personnel carrier would drive by causing the team to utilize nearby ravines, trenches, and coves to avoid detection. At one point, they hid out in a culvert for a few minutes waiting for the oncoming trail of vehicles to pass. A crinkling sound eventually made its way to Wanda’s ears and her head snapped to you as you tore open a granola bar, “Really, is now the best time for that?” Wanda whispered, trying to keep quiet as she scolded you, “Oh yes, you do not want to see me when I’m hangry,” you quietly responded as Natasha hushed you both to keep quiet. 

Despite your earlier banter and rivalry, you and Wanda fell into a rhythm as you navigated the challenging terrain. You took point, your sharp instincts and knowledge of the wilderness guiding the path. Wanda, with her enhanced senses, scanned for any signs of danger or hidden threats.

As you moved deeper into the night, the initial tension between the two of you began to dissipate. You began communicating with subtle gestures and exchanged information about the terrain and possible obstacles. Gradually, a sense of unity began to form between you two, as you realized that your success truly depended on your ability to work together.

Hours passed, and the mission team finally arrived at the remote cabin where they would be staying for the night. Nat and Maria thoroughly cleared it to make sure there were no unexpected guests. Once it was clear, you and Wanda made your way in. The cabin was rustic, with only two bedrooms, and it quickly became apparent that accommodations would be tight.

Natasha and Maria, who were married, naturally gravitated toward one of the bedrooms and claimed it as their own. They exchanged a knowing look, then turned to the rest of the team.

Wanda, ever the enigmatic one, made her preferences clear with a cool, unwavering stare. "I'm not sharing a room with Y/N," she stated firmly.

Realizing the implications, you tried to defuse the situation. "No problem, Wanda. I can sleep on the couch or even on the floor. It's not a big deal."

But Natasha, always the pragmatic leader, stepped in. "Actually, it is a big deal. We need both of you at your best tomorrow. We can't afford any tension or lack of rest. You two are sharing the other bed, there’s plenty of room."

Wanda's lips formed a thin line of irritation, but Natasha's word was final. She begrudgingly agreed, her tone laced with annoyance. "Fine, but I'm taking the left side of the bed."

You nodded following Wanda to the other room, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Works for me, Wanda. I promise not to steal the covers."

With the sleeping arrangements decided, the team settled into their respective rooms, though the atmosphere in the second bedroom was palpably tense. You and Wanda each occupying your respective sides with a noticeable gap between. Tension hung in the air, and you both lay stiffly under the covers, each determined not to give an inch.

The initial discomfort led to a silent battle for the covers. Your fingers twitched slightly as you subtly attempted to pull the blanket your way. Wanda, sensing the movement, tightened her grip on the fabric. This quiet tug-of-war continued for a while, neither of you willing to relinquish control.

But as time passed, exhaustion began to take its toll. The temperature in the room dropped, and the comfort of the covers became increasingly irresistible. Unbeknownst to either of you, both of you gradually drifted into a fitful slumber, with both your subconscious minds seeking warmth and comfort.

In the dead of night, your bodies shifted ever so slightly. In your sleep, you unconsciously turned toward Wanda, your back now touching Wanda's side. Wanda, still asleep, feeling the unexpected contact, hesitated for a moment but soon found herself subconsciously gravitating closer to your warmth.

Your movements continued to synchronize in the depths of sleep. Slowly but surely, the gap between you vanished as you instinctively nestled into each other. Your arm draped over Wanda's waist, and Wanda's head nestled into the crook of your neck. The covers you had fought over earlier now cocooning you both, providing warmth and security.

Though you had started the night as adversaries, the quiet intimacy of your subconscious movements told a different story. In the stillness of the cabin, with the moonlight filtering through the curtains, you and Wanda had found an unexpected source of comfort in each other's presence. It was as if you two were pieces in a puzzle that fit perfectly with one another as your exhaustion-riddled bodies melded together after a long day. 

The morning sun filtered through the cabin's curtains, casting a warm and gentle glow across the room. As you and Wanda began to stir, you each gradually became aware of your compromising position. Your bodies were entangled, limbs intertwined, and faces mere inches apart.

For a brief moment, your eyes fluttered open and met Wanda’s gaze, your heartbeat picked up nearly drowning out any source of sound for you as your cheeks reddened, you knew you should want to move, should be upset, but you froze like a deer in headlights, like if you stayed still then she wouldn’t notice and would stay as well. For a moment, you enjoyed the comfort of the witch’s grasp. That was quickly replaced by your mutual disdain from the previous night as the tension resurfaced with the disgusted look Wanda shot over to you. You locked eyes, both startled by the proximity and the realization of how closely you had been clinging to each other in your sleep.

Wanda quickly pulled away, her cheeks coloring slightly with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She shifted to her side of the bed and cleared her throat, avoiding your gaze. "This is... not how I expected to wake up."

Equally flustered, you hastily withdrew your arm and adjusted your position to sit on the edge of the bed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly my ideal morning either."

The tension that had momentarily dissipated during the night returned in full force. Both of you were acutely aware of the compromising position you had awoken in, and it only served to highlight your ongoing rivalry and mutual discomfort.

As you both jumped to get out of bed and prepared for the day ahead, your distaste for each other remained palpable. The events of the night had not erased your differences or any of the underlying tension, and you were both eager to put some distance between each other and the uncomfortable intimacy you had experienced in your sleep. Was it really uncomfortable though? You couldn’t deny, it was the best you had slept in weeks. No, it was. Just remembering the look of pure disgust on Wanda’s face puts the bad taste right back in your mouth.

“You two are up early, figured I’d have to come in clanging some pans the way you two like to sleep in.” Nat teased as you and Wanda entered the kitchen, “How’d you sleep?” 

“Goo-” you began but were cut off but the louder brunette beside you, “TERRIBLE” she groaned in response, not wanting to re-live what she woke up to. 

Nat glanced at Y/N knowingly, “What was that, Y/N?” she continued to tease as she poured the coffee that she had just made into 2 mugs in front of her for each of you. 

“Yea, grossly bad. Just- what she said” you stammered to get out, trying to remember what exactly was so bad about it. Then you remembered the look on Wanda’s face full of disgust again, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty that she felt that way toward you. 

Once you were all geared up and ready to leave the cabin, Natasha went over the plan one more time before you all stealthily headed back out into the forest. The weak spot that you were looking to infiltrate was about 5 miles from the cabin and you thanked whatever gods may exist that it wasn't winter yet. The air was cold against your cheeks, enough to tinge them a slight red from the wind burn, but not so frigid that you were shivering or unable to focus. 

Wanda, on the other hand, curled in on herself any chance she could in order to keep warm and ward off the shivers that threatened to take over her body. As you were waiting in another culvert for a line of trucks to pass by, you noticed from the way Wanda was curled up that she was struggling. Knowing you could survive without the jacket you were wearing, you went to offer it to the witch, “Cold?” you whispered softly and placed your hand on her shoulder to get her attention from behind. 

Her eyes snapped over to meet your gaze and she pulled her arm away from your touch like you were a deadly disease, “I’m fine,” she whispered back icy and dismissive, making a mental note to hide her discomfort better. Her disgust for you was clear, little did she know, you were only trying to help.

Taken aback by her response, your initial concern became clouded with frustration. All you wanted to do was see her light up in your direction and yet everything you did caused her to hate you more. If she’s going to act this way, may as well give her a reason. Two can play this game, “Oh right, I forgot you’re made of tougher skin than the rest of us peasants,” you mocked, keeping your tone low so as to not give up your position. 

The look that Wanda shot back your way sent shivers down your spine, “Should’ve come more prepared, like me,” you say flaunting your jacket and digging the metaphorical knife deeper as Nat waved an ‘all clear’ signal.

“There it is,” Wanda snapped back at you,  “every chance you get to be a coc-“ Natasha cut Wanda off, silencing her, before she could finish her point.

You caught Wanda’s gaze as it happened and pointed at your ears tauntingly. Her jaw tightened and her anger brewed as she continued to move through the culvert, following Nat and Maria’s lead.

As the team made its way out of the culvert and trekked along the route, you noticed Wanda was no longer shivering, all the pent-up anger toward you providing her warmth that would last at least a couple of minutes as you smirked to yourself.

Once inside, Natasha and Maria took point in clearing a path and disabling guards with precision and stealth. You and Wanda had been tasked with obtaining the chemical agent that had been noted on the radar. The crucial task brought you both further into the facility, and as much as you each had trouble being in one another’s presence, you put your differences aside to work well as a team.

As you moved deeper into enemy territory, you settled back into the unspoken language of signals you had used the previous day together. Wanda was easily able to disable the camera feeds with her telekinesis while you took out any remaining guards and covered your tracks.

Soon enough, you both came to a secure-looking door, its lock was intricate and seemed heavily fortified with barometric readings and sensors. Without hesitation, Wanda focused her energy on the lock’s mechanism, using her powers to manipulate the gears and pins. You had her back, keeping watch on the corrodor, as she fell vulnerable to an attack from behind with her mind focused elsewhere.

A stray guard came out of a room down the hall making his way in your direction as he began to yell and pull out his gun, “Don’t lose focus Wanda, I got your back,” you assured her as you swiftly disabled the guard. As much as Wanda may hate you, she knew deep down that she could trust you and kept her focus on the door.

Once you settled back beside Wanda, you couldn’t help but let out a snarky comment as she was otherwise engaged with her powers, “You know, Wanda, it’s almost like having magic hands comes in handy on a mission like this,” 

Wanda shot you a side-eye glance with just a hint of a smirk on her lips, “Oh, so now you like my powers, huh?”

Grinning, you responded, “Let’s just say, I’m starting to see the perks.”

With that, Wanda was finally able to get the door lock to yield to her magic and open up. With the granted entry, you both slipped into the room beyond, only to be met with dozens of eyes from scientists working in the lab you just entered, “What’s up fellas, I heard you’ve been playing with a new toy,”

The scientists, startled by the sudden intrusion, immediately recognized the threat and reacted swiftly. They shouted in alarm as you charged at them causing one of them to activate a security alarm, triggering a set of reinforced doors to slam shut, attempting to neutralize the largest threat they saw, Wanda.

Before she could react, you pushed her out of the way, finding yourself locked inside a sealed chamber, cut off from Wanda and the rest of the room. Panic coursed through your veins as you realized the predicament. Seeing that you’re in no position to look out for Wanda any longer, you began pounding on the glass door, shouting for her to get out, but the scientists weren’t done quite yet.

In a desperate bid to incapacitate you, originally Wanda, and prevent any further interference, one of the scientists had activated an aerosol dispenser in the sealed chamber. A fine mist of the chemical agent you had been tasked with retrieving filled the air around you. All you could do was gasp as the toxic substance began to take effect. Desperately trying to hold your breath and shield yourself from exposure, your focus shifted from escape to self-preservation. Your skin became overrun with a dark crystalized rash, similar to obsidian growing like a vine on the side of an unkept building, scaling up and down your arms as it spread out. 

On the other side of the sealed door, Wanda fought to free you from your captors, her powers surging as she attempted to disable the security measures and reach you as quickly as possible. She knew the amount of time it would take her to break through the mechanism would be fatal for you, so she desperately took to screaming at the scientists to unlock the door and sending a wave of magic knocking them against the wall when they wouldn't cooperate. The scientists, however, were determined to keep you separated and eliminate the threat they posed to their operation. The mission had taken a treacherous turn, and you were left alone in a race against time to survive the effects of the chemical while Wanda fought desperately to save you. 

As the seconds flew by, your vision grew hazy and Wanda knew you were reaching critical condition as the rash spread to your face. When brute force failed, she surged into the minds of the scientists standing before her to figure out how to disable the chamber. Once she was deep enough within their mind to bend their bodies to her will, she was finally able to free you.

As soon as the doors opened to allow Wanda to reach you, she rushed in without a second thought, her magic almost working subconsciously to move whatever was left of the chemical in the air. You laid on the floor hanging onto any bit of consciousness you could grasp onto as you faded in and out, just hoping to make it out alive. 

The witch scooped you up and darted for the exit, “Nat, we have an emergency situation here. Need medical evac NOW!” Wanda said over the comms. Her sprint turned into a quick glide through the air as she found it easier and quicker to let her magic take you both through the base and toward the exit. 

“Roger that, contacted HQ for the tac team and medical. 10 minutes out.” Nat responded, “What hap-” 

“Fuck- 10 minutes? I don’t know if she has that long,” Wanda responded with worry, as she looked down at you shaking in pain as you drifted in and out of awareness, “Y/N, hey look at me, can you hear me?” Wanda spoke gently but with urgency, as you met her gaze briefly before your eyes rolled back slightly in a blur, “Medical is on the way, you just need to hold out for 10 minutes, I’m going to get you there, just- hang on” Wanda stated as her grip on you tightened and her magic quickened in pace. 

Within minutes, Wanda met up with a medical team that arrived on the scene. They assessed your condition and quickly realized the severity of the situation. You were unconscious, struggling to breathe, and not only displaying signs of chemical poisoning but also a rash they had never seen before.

Working together, Wanda and the medical team carefully stabilized your condition as best they could on-site. They administered oxygen and provided preliminary treatment to counteract the effects of the chemical agent.

Recognizing the urgency of the situation, the medical team made the critical decision to transfer you to a nearby hospital equipped to handle chemical exposure cases. They carefully loaded you onto a gurney and rushed you onto an awaiting helicopter.

During the tense journey to the hospital, Wanda rode alongside you holding her hand and offering silent reassurance, while Nat and Maria stayed back to work with the tactical team. The situation remained dire, but they were doing everything they could to give you the best chance of survival.

At the hospital, a team of specialized medical professionals took over your care, working tirelessly to detoxify your system and stabilize your condition. The chemical exposure had taken a toll on your body, and even after all this time, your prognosis remained uncertain.

Wanda, exhausted and fraught with worry, refused to leave your side. As if every reason she had to hate you flew out the window, she was determined to stand by her partner throughout this ordeal, hoping and praying for your recovery. 

Wanda was pulled from her spiraling thoughts in the waiting room as she heard a nurse utter, “She’s stable,” in a very neutral tone, so neutral that maWanda was unsure if it was actually good news, “but she’s not out of the woods yet.” she warned as she motioned for Wanda to follow her in to be by your side once again. 

The brunette stood to follow, “Is she awake?” 

The nurse shook her head, mentioning that she doesn’t expect you to wake up for at least 12 hours. They needed to ensure that your body has flushed out the toxin before allowing it to exert any more energy. 

Wanda took the seat by your bed and notified Natasha of the situation. She was hopeful, knowing you're a fighter, and Wanda tried to be optimistic as well, “It should’ve been me, Nat,” Wanda stated full of guilt and regret. Nat did her best to assure Wanda that she would’ve done the same and your situation was in no way her fault. Deep down, she wonders if she actually would’ve done the same. 

“You better wake up, Sprints, or I swear. How dare y- why do you have to be the best at everything?” She sighed as her body trembled and a tear spilled from her eyelid.

After two long and agonizing days of unconsciousness, you finally began to stir in the hospital bed. Your vision was hazy at first, and you struggled to regain full awareness but as your senses gradually sharpened, you slowly became aware of the sterile hospital room that surrounded you.

The first thing you noticed was Wanda, sitting by your bedside. As your eyes met Wanda’s, your heart skipped a beat, you could see her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and relief. It was unlike her, but you couldn't help but smile weakly, your voice hoarse as you croaked out a greeting. "Hey there."

Wanda's expression softened, and she reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "You're awake," she replied, her relief evident in her voice until it starkly changed to anger, almost like a mask, “Don't ever do that again!” she warned, brows furrowing.

“Wow, not even a thank you.” you teased as Wanda bit back to reiterate, “I’m serious y/n, I could’ve protected myself.”

“Yeah, but I protected us both,” you snarkily replied letting the brunette build up steam as you dug further.

“Protected? You almost got yourself killed, for nothing! God you're insufferable!” she exclaimed, not even wanting to be in the room with you anymore. Remembering just how annoying it is to even hold a conversation with you.

“Didn’t realize you cared,” 

As your eyes continued to scan the room, you spotted Natasha and Maria entering the room with a tray of coffee and snacks, “Coffee anyone? Oh Y/N, you're awake!” 

You smiled in response as Nat took the coffee from her wife with a smile, letting the tension built between you and Wanda disipate as they took over the conversation. 

“You gave us quite the scare there, y/n,” Nat noted, as much as she worried for you, she knew you were a fighter with the best medical team in the country. 

“Aw, you were worried?” You teased, knowing Nat to always keep a stone cold exterior to most, only letting ones that she was close to, like you, really get to see her emotions. 

“Not one bit,” she lied and everyone in the room knew.

As Nat and Maria took over the conversation, Wanda sat there brewing. Not only could she not understand the emotions she was feeling for you, but they just kept brewing as he sat in silence. Anger, relief, annoyance, worry, it all swam around in a confusion pool of questions. Her abrupt departure was without a word and you looked to Nat as she left, “Guess she’s tapped out on me for the day,”

Nat knew that you and Wanda had a rocky relationship but she felt that the brunettes behavior was quite uncalled for given the circumstances, “mm, I’ll talk to her,” Nat hummed as she got up to leave the room in pursuit of Wanda.

“And then there were two,” you joked with Maria. 

Nat found Wanda in the hallway walking toward the exit of the hospital, she was headed back to the cabin as that’s where the 3 of them have been staying while you were stuck in a foreign hospital until you were ready to be transferred back to New York, “What the fuck was that?” Nat aggressively shouted in Wanda’s direction. 

Wanda quickly snapped her head around to the familiar voice, eyes landing on the angry Russian, “Not now Nat, please.” She dismissed as she stayed on her path. 

“No, Wanda, you don’t get to pick and choose. Y/N was practically on her deathbed to save you and this is how you want to act? What’s so terrible that you can’t even spend more than 5 minutes with her?”

“I didn’t need her to save me, she just made it all even more,” Wanda paused before bursting out, “DIFFICULT!” 

Nat could tell this was about more than just getting you to safety after the mission. She knew Wanda had dealt with a lot and always had a hard time getting her emotions in check. Instead of pressing further, she decided to switch up the metaphorical cards in her hands, “well all she wanted was to make sure you were safe.” With that, Nat turned to head back to your room. Wanda stood there watching her walk away, knowing she was right.

Before Wanda could decide what to do next the ground began to shake. It was subtle at first but soon, the items lining the walls and the structure of the building began to tremble along with it. Nat turned back to Wanda, who was still standing behind her, “Is that you?” She raised her brow, knowing the answer would be no, but hoping that it was by chance as that would make their job much easier. 

Wanda shook her head, confusion written all over her face as Nat turned again in the direction of your room in a full sprint, Wanda following Nat’s lead closely behind. Nat easily put the pieces together that the chemical agent you were exposed to would have effects that they could not predict. 

When they made it to your room, they were met with Maria trying to calm you down as you shook and writhed on the bed in pain. Your skin felt like it had just been dipped in lava causing your temperature to rise so much that you could visibly see a slight red tint on your face. Inside was arguably even worse as the uncontrollable shivers caused you to feel lightheaded and nauseous. 

Nat tried calling for a doctor through the hallways as the building began shaking even more. The worse your condition became, the more aggravated the building shook. They had to do something before the hospital filled with hundreds of innocent people became rubble. Wanda came to the side of your bed opposite Maria, shock prominent on her features as she watched you squirm, not knowing how to help. 

Maria could tell that Wanda was struggling with how to help, honestly, she didn't know exactly what to do either, but she did know that they had to get the building to stop shaking, and she was sure with Wanda’s magic, they would be able to help you somehow, “We have to neutralize the seismic waves emitting from her somehow,” Maria told Wanda as she kept her eyes on you, trying to figure out a solution. 

With that, Wanda was snapped out of the frozen state she was in as her eyes lit up red and she dove into your mind, trying to get answers. Near instantly her body began to tremble as a whimper fell from her mouth at the pain that radiated from you, “Y/N you have to calm down, the whole building is about to collapse”

“I’m not doing anything,” your thoughts fighting to make sense of the situation, “I-I can't control it! H-HURTS!”

Wanda’s balance faltered as the building’s shaking became more intense, her grip on the railing of your hospital bed tightened, and it became clear to her that her best option was to sedate you. She reached her hands toward your temple and let the red tendrils of her magic flow freely toward your skin as they rooted themselves within your mind. Taking hold and lulling you into a calm state of peaceful sleep. Slowly but surely, the building stood still again and soon after, a doctor came in to assess the situation. 

“About time,” Natasha spat with clear irritation towards the doctor.

Wanda, felt a growing unease as Dr. Scholt entered the room. His icy, judgmental gaze fell onto you as he began to examine your medical chart and machines. It was clear to Wanda that his discomfort with powered individuals was not something he could easily hide.

Ignoring Nat’s comment, Dr. Scholt made his way over to assess your condition eventually swaying from their original plan of keeping you until you were stable enough to be transferred, “I've seen too many of their kind, causing nothing but chaos and destruction. We don't have the resources to deal with creatures like this in our hospitals,” unaware that one of the most powerful enhanced individuals was standing right beside him, his disdain for you was clear with his tone and judgmental words. 

With a mixture of anger and concern, Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and her voice carried a hint of impatience as she retorted, "We're here because we need medical assistance, Doctor, not a lecture. Y/N's condition is the priority, and I expect her to receive the same care as any other patient. Your personal opinions have no place in a hospital room."

Before the doctor had the chance to respond, Wanda cut in, “No, it’s fine. He made his stance awfully clear,” she quarreled with a head tilt toward the doctor before turning back to Natasha, “We’ll take it from here,” 

“Great, I’ll get her prepped for transport,” the doctor mentioned as he attempted to grab sedatives to administer to you for the ride. However, Wanda wasn’t going to let him or his team lay another finger on you after the display he just made, knowing even from his thoughts, that his ill intentions may get the better of him. 

Before he left the room, Wanda caught his attention, “Maybe I wasn’t clear, Adam,” refusing to use his doctorate title, “we will take it from here.” she precisely articulated in a sharp manner, “Our transport team is on the way, You and your team are not to lay another finger on Agent y/l/n. Are we clear?” she flared, starring daggers into his soul. 

“How do you know my name?” he bit back as if that was the most important thing that Wanda said. 

“Are we clear?” Wanda repeated, without any explanation for the extra information. The doctor quickly took the hint as he nodded and scurried out of the room.

Wanda’s gaze shifted to meet Nat’s gaze who stood by the door as she watched the doctor walk past her to leave the room, “All that for someone you hate, can’t imagine what you're like when you actually like somebody,” she teased. 

“I don’t hate her,” Wanda defended as she tried to hide the growing smirk on her face, “She’s just the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she added to keep her position on you clear and she couldn’t have anyone thinking she likes you in the slightest, “But he wanted to do more to her than prep her for transport,” She informed the two other agents that stood with her in the room around your bed. 

“Well, Y/N’s lucky to have you in her corner, once Fury hears about this, Mr. Sholt can kiss his doctorate goodbye,” Maria reassured as she took a seat beside your bed to wait for the transport team to arrive in a couple hours. 

Once SHIELD’S medical team arrived, they administered sedatives to keep you unconscious during the flight and prepared you for the jet before you woke up. Wanda was instructed to be by your side as an extra precaution, in case you somehow woke up or your unhinged powers started going haywire in your sleep. 

The ride back was tame with no real issues, at one point Wanda could sense your consciousness creeping back in but she was able to quickly lull you back to comatose with her magic. Once the jet landed, they quickly got you set up in the med bay at the compound in Upstate New York. This was not typical protocol for the team. Since you were not an Avenger and merely a Shield agent, proper protocol would be to take you to the medical facilities at SHIELD headquarters. Natasha wouldn’t allow that to happen though, under her authority, she made sure you were overseen by the best team available and close enough to keep watch on.

In a matter of hours, the team ran all the tests they deemed necessary, concluding that the chemicals you came into contact with ignited something that laid dormant in your DNA. The gene acted as a sponge for the toxins, without it, the poison would’ve continued to spread and shut down every part of your body slowly and painfully. Instead, the contagion was absorbed into the gene strand, which was subsequently sent into its next phase. Without the toxin, this gene could’ve laid dormant within you forever, instead, it entered a new stage, triggering your new abilities. 

“Was anyone else in contact with this chemical?” Dr Cho asked out of an abundance of caution, knowing that if they had been, they probably wouldn’t be in such good condition.

Nat looked to Wanda for a response, knowing she was the one in the room with you when it was released. Wanda’s gaze fell to the floor for a brief second before she began, “No, they meant to expose me but Y/N pushed me out of the way,” Wanda explained as she recalled the events from a couple of days prior. 

Dr. Cho nodded slightly in acknowledgment before responding “It’s a good thing Y/N was the one affected by this in all honesty. Without running tests, there’s no way to know whether the rest of the team has the gene structure to survive such an attack. She got real lucky,” Dr. Cho explained as she went over the results of the tests. 

Wanda struggled with this internally. Part of her was thankful things unfolded the way they did because if they hadn't the situation could've been a lot worse, but the other part twisted it to figure that you must have just been trying to 1-up her. You never do anything nice without something in it for yourself, at least in her eyes. This wasn’t anything new when it came to the way she thought about you. It was often that your intentions were competitive and came off abrasive, but she tended to use that model of thought for anything you did in her presence. Shaking every bit of sincerity off for a hidden agenda, and refusing to see any good in you. Deep down, maybe she didn’t want to see the good in you, it was so much easier to be closed off. Afraid that once she starts to unravel you, she’ll have no more walls to hide behind. No more armor to keep her from falling for you, to keep her safe from the pain she’s always known to follow. So, she doesn't think too deeply about it, instead, she lets her thoughts protect her. 

It was easier for her to paint you as an asshole than to deal with the mixed emotions she felt for you. Blaming everything on your lack of empathy acted almost as a shield for her, enabling her to bury other emotions so deep that she could forget about them. After replaying the events over and over in her head on a loop, she was able to spin the story in her head and concluded that you must’ve known about your genetics. You had to go through genetic testing to be a field operative with such high clearance, surely that’s how you knew. So the only reason you even pushed her out of the way was to look like the hero, to make it look like she needed saving, knowing full well you’d make it out just fine. Ugh, you’re the worst. 

With that, it was like a switch in Wanda flipped. As if her emotions were immediately shut off, she stopped visiting you at the medbay and was happy to go about her daily life without a care in the world of your condition. 

You spent the next few weeks recovering. Natasha was by your side every step of the way, acutely aware of who visited you and who didn’t. Wanda never did. Tony came by a few times, you two weren't very close but he felt the need to show face at least. With nothing much to talk about, Tony always defaulted to talking about work when he was nervous. He didn’t find himself in too many situations without anything to say, but when he did, he attempted to claim the room with his confidence as he always had in his career. Almost as a nervous tik, he defaulted to talking about things that he knew a great deal about, even if the people around him didn’t. 

To his surprise, you were easily able to keep up with his shop talk jargon and follow along with the schematics he propped open as examples. The two of you quickly began bonding over your love for science and math. Nat noticed the uptick in visits from Stark and was happy to see you making more connections with the people she called family. 

Some of the other Avengers made their way down to the medbay as well after Nick encouraged it in a meeting. He knew how good of an agent you were, following your progress ever since word spread about you during your time at SHIELD Academy. It was practically unheard of for an Agent to graduate early, only 2 had ever done it before you. Since then, he made sure to check up on your progress every few months, hoping you’d grow into a top agent so he could use you on one of his special teams. With your new onset of abilities, he figured that eventually, you’d fit right in as a new addition to the Avengers. 

Fury rarely leaves anything to chance though, including your development. In order to get you comfortable with your newfound abilities, you’d need a mentor. Someone who has gone through a transition like yours before. After giving it some thought, there was only one other person on the team who could relate to you in that sense. 

Thor, while he did have to prove he was worthy to his father and himself in order to unlock his full potential, his powers always belonged to him. There was nothing unexpected or confusing about it. He has always wielded his power with knowledge and confidence. Similarly, Steve’s transition was also foreseen and he was able to quickly and seamlessly get a hold of his powers. 

Bruce on the other hand, still struggles to keep the beast inside of him under control. While he may be able to relate to the situation you’re currently experiencing, he wouldn’t be the right fit to mentor you with the way he is still trying to figure things out for himself. 

It was clear that Wanda could relate to your situation most closely. While she may have volunteered in the experiments carried out by Hydra, the outcome was something she never could’ve expected. For a while, she struggled to come to terms with what her body was capable of. Fearing that she would lose control and hurt someone unintentionally, and deep down the fear always lingers, but she has learned how to control it; and while she may not believe it herself, her team trusts her and her ability to keep her powers in check. 

Fury knew the two of you were far from besties, but he hoped this mentorship could double as a bonding experience to help get you more acclimated to the team. Wanda would need to get used to you being around more often, whether she was okay with it or not, he hoped this could help nudge her in the direction of welcoming the transition. 

“No. Not a chance in hell.” Wanda argued as she stood from the chair opposite Fury in his office. Nick didn’t offer a reaction, instead, he kept his face neutral and waited for Wanda to come to terms with the arrangement. 

Noticing that Fury was not giving in, Wanda broke the silence to add, “Why me? I have nothing to teach her, she’s insufferable. This seems like more of a Rodger’s job.”

“The arrangement isn’t negotiable, Maximoff. Y/N has a lot to learn from you and I’m sure you’ll be a great teacher once she’s back on her feet.” Wanda scoffed, anger beating off her, as she went to leave the meeting.

“Oh, one more thing,” Nick added causing the brunette to pause and turn by the door, “Y/N will not know about this arrangement of ours, and I intend to keep it that way, are we clear?” without giving a clear response, Wanda rolled her eyes and stormed off to the gym, wanting to let her anger out on something meant to be hit before she ended up taking it out on the nearest wall.. “Oh, and I expect an influx of visits from you to the medbay!” He shouted towards her retreating form down the hall.

Straight from Fury’s office, she stormed into the gym with a palpable aura of frustration and anger. Her usually calm and composed demeanor had given way to an agitated energy that practically crackled in the air around her.

Nat, who happened to be in the gym working on her own training routine, turned her head as she sensed Wanda's arrival. The room seemed to darken with Wanda's stormy presence, and Natasha knew that something had clearly set her off.

Wanda didn't waste a moment. She approached one of the punching bags, her eyes flashing with a mix of determination and anger. Without saying a word, she unleashed a series of powerful punches and kicks that sent the heavy bag swinging wildly.

Wanda's frustration reverberated through the gym as she relentlessly pummeled the punching bag, each strike carrying the weight of her annoyance. The ferocity of her strikes was a clear indication of her irritation. Natasha, noticing the intensity of Wanda's training session, decided it was time to address the obvious tension. Wanda's training strikes were powerful and precise, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

Once Nat felt that Wanda had gotten out her initial anger, she approached her friend cautiously, waiting for a break in the flurry of punches before speaking. She knew better than anyone that sometimes words were not enough, and physical exertion was the only way to cope with intense emotions, "Wanda, what's going on?" Natasha asked, her tone laced with concern as she held the opposite side of the punching bag sturdy for Wanda to continue laying on punches.

“Fury.” She growled, “He wants me to.” *PUNCH* “mentor y/n” *PUNCH* “he won’t let” *PUNCH* “Steve do it.” *PUNCH* “He wouldn’t listen” *PUNCH* “ugh!” the punching finally stopped as she left a hand on the punching bag for balance while she caught her breath.

Natasha peeked around the bag that she held steady for Wanda to give her opinion, trying to approach with caution, knowing Wanda wouldn't like what she had to say. 

Natasha didn’t know what triggered it, but she noticed the stark change in the way Wanda went from caring about you in the foreign hospital to completely shutting herself off from you as soon as you got back to New York. 

Nat took a step back from the bag to gather her thoughts, “Let me get this straight, you’re throwing a fit because the girl who just saved your life is going through life-changing trauma right now and Fury is asking you to help her through it because you have experience and have been through a similar situation?” with one eyebrow slightly raised, she shot Wanda a pointed glare. 

With her frustration rebuilding as she processed Nat’s words, Wanda pushed the bag away and turned toward the door, “Oh, here we go again. Poor Y/N she’s always the victim,” Wanda marched toward the door, not wanting to hear another person defend you. In her eyes, you were conniving and everything you did was calculated, other people just couldn't see past your charm to expose how much you actually tormented her. They couldn’t see how she was so clearly the victim in this circumstance. They couldn't see how twisted you made everything. She could though, she saw right through you. 

Nat wasn’t letting her get off that easy. She chased after the brunette trying to storm out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to be face to face. Against her own desire, Wanda’s feet stayed planted to see what Nat had to say. 

“Are you serious? You two may not be friends, but she saved your fucking life. She was there for you, the least you could do is offer her some support and show a sliver of gratitude! You need to take a good hard look at yourself, this isn’t the Wanda I know.” Nat scolded 

Seething, Wanda bit back through gritted teeth, “I didn’t ask her to.” without giving Natasha the opportunity to speak, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the gym. 

Natasha stood there nearly dumbfounded, wondering what had gotten into Wanda to make her so heartless and cruel towards you. 

From the gym, instead of wallowing alone in her room, Wanda decides to leave the compound for a walk around the grounds. As she walked alone with her own thoughts, she desperately tried to calm the anger within. Spending more time with you was the last thing she wanted to do, especially after coming to the conclusion that your heroic act was just a ruse. 

As she strolled, she went through countless scenarios for ways that she could get out of this whole situation. There wasn’t a single one that she thought was good enough to change Fury’s mind. 

What if I broke my hand? No, I'm sure he’d still make me teach her. What if the compound mysteriously caught fire? That would probably only delay things. What if there was an Avenger’s level threat? He’d probably just make me do it when I got back. What if I became evil and left the Avengers to take over the world or something? That could work, though it’s a bit dramatic and I don't even want to take over the world.

Knowing that Nat was on your side about this already told her that everyone else at the compound would share Fury’s opinion. Out of the whole team, Nat was the one most likely to take Wanda’s side for anything. She always knew that if Natasha’s opinion differed on a subject, the others were bound to as well.

Wanda took the rest of the day to decompress and attempt to accept that she’d have to mentor you. The next day during breakfast, she heard Tony and Thor mention they’d be visiting you once they finished their meal. Knowing she’d have to see you eventually, Wanda’s ears perked at the opportunity to tag along and not go alone, “Can I come?” Wanda’s eagerness came as a shock to the two men sitting across the counter from her, but also to everyone else within earshot who wasn’t involved in the conversation. 

“Come to see y/n?” Tony clarified, not sure if Wanda had heard them correctly but she nodded in confirmation, “ye- yea of course.” he confirmed, surprised Wanda had any interest in visiting you.

The hum of medical equipment filled the medbay as Tony and Thor entered, their presence bringing a dynamic shift to the room. You were still in the process of recovery, looking up with a mixture of surprise and gratitude as the two Avengers approached and Wanda trailed behind. She didn’t say anything as the two of them greeted you, and instead, she took the furthest seat in the room from your bed. 

Tony, always one for theatrics, struck a dramatic pose. "Fear not, citizens! Iron Man and the God of Thunder have arrived to grace you with our formidable presence."

Thor chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Indeed! We heard tell of a valiant warrior in need of cheering, and so we have descended."

You couldn't help but smile at their playful entrance, a welcome distraction from the monotony of the medbay. However, as the three of you continued the banter, Wanda lingered at the periphery, sitting leaned back with her arms crossed and a subtle expression of indifference on her face.

Not letting her get away with sneaking in unnoticed, you broke the silence that lingered between the two of you, “Wasn’t expecting you to be here, Wanda. Did someone force you to be here or something?” You saw right through her, but before she could lie through gritted teeth and say that she was there of her own volition, Tony spoke up instead, “Believe it or not, she actually asked us to come,” Tony defended. 

Riding along Tony’s explanation, Wanda forced a smile to sell it. She was grateful that he had beat her to it, she was never much good at lying. You weren’t fully convinced that there wasn’t some underlying explanation for her presence but you accepted it with an impressed look on your face, “Wow, no hidden agenda?”

“Actually there is one,” Wanda clarified as she began to explain, “I’m going to mentor you.”

“Mentor?” You were taken aback. Why was Wanda suddenly interested in mentoring you and what made her think you wanted to be her mentee?

“Yeap, we’ve both been through similar experiences and you have a lot to learn about controlling your new powers,” she added with passive aggressiveness dripping from her words. 

You wanted to question her further, but you also didn’t want to push her to rescind her offer. Truthfully, you were kind of excited at the thought of Wanda teaching you how to wield your newfound abilities. You knew that she went through a similar situation while she was with Hydra and the thought of spending more time with her, though you would never admit it, made you excited, “oh- okay.” you accepted. 

Wanda expected more of a fight with you about this but was relieved to get it over with easily.

“How exciting,” Thor announced, “I know a thing or two about using powers myself if you need help or anything.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a call if I find a magical hammer,” you teased making the other two chuckle. 

Taglist: @marvelogic @esposadejoyhuerta @ju-maxi89 @gingiesworld @simpforlizzie @bigbattygyal585 @cakechan123 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[holylulusworld]

Come to heaven

Title: Come to heaven

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: K5: handle with care

Ship/Main Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ex!Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: angst, jealousy, ex! sugar babe trope, drunkness, fluff, hopeful ending

Summary: Making amends is hard.

A/N: Lyrics in Italics taken from Bruno Mars' "Locked Out of Heaven"

Word Count: 1,7k+

BBB BuckyBarnesBingo 2024 masterlist

Catch up here: Go to hell

Written in reader’s PoV

Bucky tries to slip his hand into your panties, but you wrap your hand around his wrist to stop him. This is how he always made you compliant and stopped any argument.

“No! Not this time.”

“No?” He sounds surprised. Of course, he’s surprised. You always gave in and let him seduce you. Pleasure and having his attention, even for a fleeting time, was better than thinking about the future, or your non-existent relationship.

“No!” You stiffen in his arms. “Let go of me. I won’t let you do this to me all over again. It’s always the same. You stop me from speaking my mind with your lips, hands, or cock. I’m done being a sexual object, a toy you can play with to you.”

“Doll, I…” Bucky reluctantly releases you from his embrace. He steps away to watch you turn around. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you press your hand to your heart, “was yours. I admitted my feelings and waited for you to at least tell me that I mean a little more to you than a set of holes you can fill. But…” you sniffle but put a brave face on, “you couldn’t even give me that.”

“So, you want to go back to that old man and his limp dick?” He scoffs in an attempt to hide the hurt.

“Even if I’m not in love with him, I know exactly what he wants from me. He won’t make promises of keeping me safe and happy only to turn his back on me the moment I tell him that I love him. With him, I know what I’ll get.”

You try to sidestep Bucky, but he blocks your path. “That’s it? You’ll leave me for that man without giving me the chance to make things up to you.”

“James,” you gently cup his face and look him in the eyes. “You can’t make things up to me with gifts or sex this time. I asked you if you can imagine having a relationship with me. You gave me your answer. It’s my turn to tell you that what you have to offer is not enough.”

“Not enough?” He’s confused. “But I…”

“Money and shiny things cannot replace what you are unwilling to give,” you give him a sad smile. “As much as I enjoyed our time together, it’s over. We both knew it’d end like this. This kind of arrangement is meant to end sooner or later. There is nothing we can do about it.”

You press your lips to his scruffy chin, ending what began as a passionate one-night stand with a soft kiss. “Goodbye, James. I hope, one day, you’ll find something worth being more than…” Your voice cracks and you drop your hands from his face.

“Y/N,” he tries to grab your hand but you step away the moment his fingertips brush your skin. If you give in to him now, you’re doomed to repeat history. “Wait, I can try to be better.”

You give him a weak smile. “No, you won’t, James. You never had to try, and that’s the problem. Your good looks and reputation made everything so much easier for you than for other men.”

He allows you to leave, watching you go to join your companion for the rest of the night. Bucky will sulk in a corner, drinking too much while wishing you’d stayed by his side instead of laughing about the things the old man by your side says.

Bucky is close to losing his patience. He’d hoped scaring the man you chose over him would be enough. Much to his chagrin, your companion from last night is rather amused about Bucky’s presence.

Erik Lehnsherr lived long enough to fear nothing. Not that he ever feared anything else than his own mortality. But at his age, even that fear faded a long time ago.

“I don’t understand why you are here, Mr. Barnes,” Erik leans back in his chair, an amused smirk on his lips. “Do we have business to do? I don’t think so. I’m old, not forgetful.”

“If you release Y/N out of her contract with you, I’ll pay you any sum,” Bucky tries to get you out of your sugar girl arrangement with the old creep.

“A contract?” He quirks a brow. “The lovely lady accompanying me last night came with me to make sure I’m not alone. We don’t have an arrangement. She’s just a lovely young woman spending time with me to help me with my paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky eyes his concurrent warily. He’s a master at reading people and finding lies behind a friendly smile. “She’s your employee?”

“A freelancer, the young people call it these days,” Erik holds back a chuckle.

When you offered to join him at the party, you told him everything that happened with James Buchanan Barnes. The man breaking your heart. Erik promised he’d do anything to make the fool let you go see that he made a grave mistake.

“I’m old, not someone creeping on young women,” he adds after a long pause. “I had my fair share of lovely ladies and gentlemen when I was younger.” Erik eyes Bucky up and down. “You’d be on top of my list if only I was thirty years younger.”

Bucky backpaddles. He eyes Erik warily before clearing his throat.

”What exactly is Y/N doing for you?”

“I already told you that she does my paperwork. I believed I was the old man here. Maybe you should get your memory checked, young man,” Erik chuckles. “If you’d excuse me now. I’m waiting for a massage therapist. A pretty boy getting this old man going…”

‘Old creep’, Bucky thinks to himself before leaving without saying goodbye. “At least he doesn’t creep on Y/N. That’s a pro.”

Bucky drove to his best friend to release some steam. He told Steve everything about you and the stunt you pulled to make him jealous.

“She tricked you,” Steve can’t help but laugh. “Man, you’ve got yourself a smart little cookie. I bet she tried to wrap you around her finger.”

“I fell for her lie so easily,” Bucky huffs. “I believed she’s riding that creep’s dick. Now I know, she put on a show to get my attention, not to rub it under my nose. My sweet doll is missing me.”

“Well, if she’s your sweet doll try to treat her better. She deserves someone to take good care of her.”

“Steve—”

“No, Buck. You need to handle her with care,” Steve won’t let his friend get away with a false excuse. “Y/N got hurt by you once, Buck. I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice.”

You walk a little faster to outrun Bucky. He’s following you around town, a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He tried to convince you to move in with him, promising the world to you.

“Go away,” you huff. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing, but I won’t participate. Just leave me alone.”

“You know that you can’t run away from me in those shoes, right?” Bucky smirks when you stop in your tracks to look at the colorful thongs you’re wearing. “I never understood how you can walk in these…”

“I like to feel the sunshine and air on my feet,” you point out. “Not everyone wants to run around in polished leather shoes all the time.”

“Ouch,” he snickers. “Come on, baby doll. Let’s have lunch together. Give me the chance to show you that I can change.”

“Bucky,” you sigh. “You don’t get that I can’t go back to what we had.”

“Y/N,” he drops the roses to cup your face. “I don’t want to go back to what we had. Baby doll, let your Bucky treat you like a queen.”

“I don’t want you to treat me like a queen,” you wrap your hands around his wrists to pull his hands off of your face, “only like someone you respect and love. I want you to treat me like your girlfriend. But you can’t give me that.”

“Baby…”

You look on the ground. “Please pick the roses up and give them to someone who wants to become your next sugar babe. I’m out of this for good.”

Again, you walk away. You’re holding your head high and ignore the ache in your heart as you leave Bucky behind.

'Cause you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven For too long, for too long Yeah, you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven For too long, for too long, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ooh) Oh, yeah, yeah Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (ooh) You bring me to my knees, you make me testify (ooh) You can make a sinner change his ways (ooh) Open up your gates 'cause I can't wait to see the light (ooh) And right there is where I wanna stay (ooh)

“What the fuck!” You yell out of your window. Bucky parked his car in front of your apartment complex. He’s singing along to a song, begging you to take him back. “It’s 2 am Bucky! What is wrong with you?”

He turns the volume down and kills the engine before waving at you.

“Baby doll,” he slurs. “I came here to bring you home. ‘m missing you, doll…Please come home.”

“SHUT UP!” one of your neighbors yells out of their window. “Do you know how late it is?”

“It’s 2 am,” Bucky yells back. “Stop yelling so loud. You’ll wake the neighbors!”

“BUCKY! Stop being so loud!”

“Baby…can I come up and cuddle you?” He grins dopily when you slam the window shut. “She loves me!”

“SHUT UP!” Your neighbor yells.

“Shut up!” Bucky yells back. “OH…there you are…” He stumbles toward the door when you get out. “BABY DOLL!”

“Bucky,” you hiss and grab his hand. “Stop yelling and come with me.”

“You look pretty in your pajamas,” he purrs your name and wraps himself around you. Bucky nuzzles his face in your neck and sighs. “Without you, I’m in hell, doll. Forget about that old creep and go for Bucky.” He mutters against you.

You sigh deeply. “Fine, come with me to heaven. You can bunker on my couch. In the morning, we will talk about impulse control and not yelling in the middle of the night.”

Tags in reblog.

[peachsukii]

𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

( chapter 4 - the grey )

『 ♡ pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo; pro-heroes au | friends to lovers 』

status: on-going rating: mature (16+) #✩.hollowheart

꒰ summary ꒱ A glimpse of hope appears out of nowhere, giving Bakugo and Midoriya the lead they needed to pursue your location. It proves to be much more difficult than they imagine, so they call upon some friends for a search party.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance

꒰ Ao3 version | word count; ~20.6k as of ch.4 ꒱ Master List 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

"So...let me get this straight," Uraraka ponders, finger on her chin while staring up into her metaphorical thinking space. "She's underground?"

"Yeah, I know, it sounds fuckin' insane." Bakugo shakes his head as he crosses his arms defensively. "But we gotta try. She needs m- our help."

Midoriya nods in agreement and turns to the group. "Sorry to ask on such short notice, but thank you all for -"

"Like you have to ask!" Jiro interrupts, hands on her hips. "She's important to us, too ya know." 

Bakugo and Midoriya had called all of their friends the following morning of your text, gathering an emergency rescue group. Uraraka, Kirishima, Jiro, Mina and Todoroki dropped everything they were doing and met up at Bakugo's apartment the following night. They needed a plan, one that the agency won't catch wind of before they can execute it. It wasn't going to be easy, that much the boys knew, but the consequences did not outweigh the reward - getting you home, safe and sound, was their number one priority. 

"The agency doesn't give two shits about this, so we're takin' it into our own hands. I'm done sittin' around waitin' for a miracle." Bakugo's words are flat as he motions for the group to follow him over to the kitchen table to analyze the diagram that him and Midoriya drafted. He points to the left side to start explaining their plan.

"Ears, we'll need ya to figure out where the compound is located, see if you can hear vibrations or some shit. It's gotta be somewhere in this field. Pinky'll burn a hole to make an entry point for us. They'll keep guard while the rest of us go inside. I'm guessin' it'll have multiple floors, so we'll split into teams to cover it all. I'll take the first floor, Deku and Icyhot take the second while Cheeks and Red take the third. Get in, search for her and other hostages, get 'em out and fuck up anyone in our way." He stands back, shifting his gaze to everyone's faces. "Got it?"

"You sure you wanna go alone, Kat?" Kirishima asks, quirking his head to the side. "Not sayin' you can't handle it, but I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Bakugo grunts, casting his eyes to the floor. "It'll be fine. We'll have our comms and stay in contact."

Midoriya knew the reason why he wanted to go alone and didn't dare vocalize it to the group. He trusted Bakugo knew what he was doing, even if it meant going head first into danger by himself. They're top heroes - intuition is one of their strongest feats and he trusts his childhood friend with his life.

"Do we know anything about the drug they're making?" Todoroki asks, directing his question at Midoriya. 

He frowns in response. "Not much, unfortunately. I tried to analyze it in the agency lab and couldn't crack anything about it, didn't have enough of a sample to properly break it down. The only thing we know is that one dosage lasts about an hour."

"Deku, come with me for a sec," Bakugo demands, stomping past Midoriya and into his bedroom away from the rest of the group. Midoriya obeys and follows him down the hall, stopping in the doorframe.

"What is it, Kacchan?" he asks, unsure of what he needed him for. Bakugo droops his shoulders in defeat, palming his face in embarrassment. 

"Izuku, I need a favor." His voice is hushed.

Midoriya walks up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gather his attention. 

"Anything, what is it?"

"Don't make me say it," Bakugo grumbles, shaking his head in disbelief that he was asking him for support a second time.

Midoriya knew exactly what that meant. He silently wraps his arms around Bakugo, enclosing him in a soft hug.

"We'll find her, Kacchan, I promise."

Bakugo loosely returns the embrace with one arm. 

"What if I'm not strong enough to save her again?"

Midoriya pulls back to look him in the eyes. "That's not going to happen, we have your back - all of us."

Bakugo knows his friends would support him through thick and thin, but that's not what he's questioning. The possibility of letting you slip away a second time is slowly eating away at him, afraid he'll have to experience you disappearing all over again. A quiet 'yeah' is all he can muster before composing himself.

Bakugo pats Midoriya on the head as he leaves the room.

"Let's get goin'." 

~ TIME: 8:39PM

An hour goes by as the group makes their way to Sector 42, enough time for the sunset to fade into a starry sky and help hide their presence in the night. The seven of them re-group in the same area that you'd previously disappeared in - the barren field. 

"Where did you say the portal opened?" Jiro questions.

Bakugo walks over to a set of rocks, pointing at the area. "Right there. Deku marked it a few days after it happened."

Jiro nods and kneels to the ground. She plants both her headphone jacks to the dirt and focuses for a few moments, listening for any frequencies below them. She hears it straight away, the sounds of metal clanging faintly in her ears. 

"Found it!" she exclaims, unplugging herself from the soil. "About 20 feet deep, and it's a huge facility. I can't quite tell how many floors, but it's big." 

"Knew I could count on ya. Pinky, you're up. Make a big enough hole for us to fit through," Bakugo orders, standing back with the others. 

"Roger that!" Mina gathers a coating of acid around her hands, forming makeshift armored gloves. She began to dig while oozing acid into the ground, carving out a tunnel for the group. The others stood nearby, keeping lookout for any potential sneak attacks. Bakugo can’t help but repeatedly thump his foot like an angry rabbit, his patience wearing thin as he’s forced to wait, not able to direct his anger at anything in the moment. He wanted nothing more than to blow the whole place to smithereens, scoop you up, and take you home. Uraraka notices his fidgeting and pulls him to the side.

"You wanna talk?"

"About what?" Bakugo grumbles, scrunching his brows at her in annoyance. Obviously, he didn't wanna talk about anything at all, let alone his feelings.

"Fair enough. How about I make you a promise?" she says, extending her pinky to him. "When we find her in there, you'll be the first one we call."

Bakugo stares at her, blinking a few times before sighing contently. He wraps his pinky around hers. 

"Thanks, Cheeks. I...really miss her." He lets his hand fall away from hers as she gives his shoulder a light squeeze. 

"Me too. You better make a move once she's back!" Uraraka bats at his arm playfully before skipping back to the others. Bakugo's got his arms crossed and nose to the sky, failing awfully at hiding his flustered expression. Meanwhile, Mina crawls out of the hole she's dug, covered head to toe in dirt. 

"Hah...okay," she pants, out of breath and wiping the sweat off her brows with the back of her hand. "It's wide enough for two people. It takes you to a hallway...that's all I could see. Bit of a drop, so just be careful."And with that, the plan was in motion. The five infiltrators shimmy down the hole one at a time, dropping into the hallway as quietly as possible. Bakugo and Midoriya exchange quiet glances, noting how off-putting the silence is to their entrance. 

"Eyes up, keep a low profile, and call immediately if something happens," Bakugo whispers. "And try not 'ta get hurt."

The four of them nod in agreement at him, partnering up according to plan and going their separate ways.

~ TIME: 9:18PM

Things are quiet in the compound tonight - eerily quiet. It's been days since your distress text was sent to Bakugo, leaving you yearning for escape to the outside world. Did he have a plan? Are him and Midoriya on their way? The lady who helped you steal your phone hasn't returned since that night, not since she took your phone back to the contamination room. Something felt wrong about this setup, that same gut feeling invading your body like the night of your abduction. You can't help but feel guilty about pulling the boys into potential danger, but what choice did you have? There was no possibility of you being able to escape yourself, much to your dismay. It was physically impossible without your quirk. Being helpless has been humbling, but a fucking aggravating experience.

You roll over on the cot, tracing imaginary drawings on the metallic wall as a distraction. The annoying 'beep!' of a keycard sounds from the cell door, but no footsteps follow. You're expecting a barrage of harsh commands, but they never come. Even though that's peculiar, you don't turn over to investigate - you couldn't give two shits about anything in the place any longer.

~ TIME: 9:43PM

Once they've successfully navigated their way through the compound, Uraraka rounds the corner of the steel corridor on the third floor with Kirishima at her side. She stalks slowly down the hall, taking time to examine all their surroundings. 

“Hey, up there! Looks like another cell,” Kirishima mutters, pointing over her shoulder. She silently nods in response.

The two of them approach the glass wall of the cell and carefully peer inside. Uraraka audibly gasps and she scrambles to the door, anxiously fidgeting with the electronic lock. She kicks the door as a last resort and is shocked when the cell door pops open, loosely swinging inward on its hinges. She pushes her way inside, a soft smile crosses her lips when she spots your form on the small cot. You don’t move out of habit, assuming it’s a pissed off guard coming to grab you for another round of testing.

“Found ya,” Uraraka sighs, desperately trying to hide the tears pooling in her doe eyes.

Is that…?

You flip over at the sound of her voice, bewildered at her physically standing before you. 

She’s not an illusion...right?

“Ochaco?” You compose yourself as you sit upright. “Is that…really you?”

Uraraka doesn’t hesitate any longer as she’s rushing toward you, wrapping herself around your frail form. One of her hands makes its way to hold the back of your head, trembling fingers clutching a handful of your messy locks. Her warmth engulfs you and coaxes the emotions to the surface that you previously submerged, soft hiccups bubbling in your throat. You return the hug, squeezing her tightly and shrinking in her arms. 

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m really here,” she assures, quietly stroking your hair. Kirishima comes into focus over Uraraka's shoulder.

"Hope we didn't scare ya!" he says while wiping a tear from his cheek. He strolls over to the cot and takes a seat next to you, gently patting your back. "Good to see ya!"

Uraraka pulls back and moves her hands to your shoulders. Her eyes are glassy as her lips curl into another smile, her signature dimples adorning her cheeks. You haven’t seen the sun in a months time, but seeing her euphoric gleam more than made up for it in the moment. 

“Before we talk about anything, I promised someone a small favor,” she says, nodding her head. She clicks the earpiece that adorned her helmet with one hand while thumbing away a stray tear off your chin with the other.

Promise?

“Hey, Dynamight,” she says over the intercom. The mere mention of his hero name from Uraraka is enough to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter ferociously. You can barely make out his voice through the device, but hear Bakugo’s signature twang when he replies. It makes your cheeks flush strawberry. 

She grins at you as she replies to Bakugo, "I've got a message for ya."

Your heart stops as Uraraka releases her hold on you and reaches for her helmet. Her hair ruffles from underneath when she tugs it away and shifts to place it over your head. She runs her fingers over your hand delicately, urging you to talk to him. 

She mouths ‘go ahead’ while holding the intercom button for you. Kirishima pats you twice on the shoulder for encouragement. 

How does she know?

You swallow, hard. Every nerve in your body is firing on all cylinders. There’s an endless amount of things you want to say to him, but that moment isn’t here yet. You choose to settle on a greeting, praying you don’t start bawling your eyes out. 

“Hey Katsuki,” your voice quivers as his name leaves your lips. 

You hear Bakugo suck air through his teeth over the radio communication, knowing he’s probably cycling through a million emotions over the sound of your voice, too. 

He clears his throat briefly before responding. “Hey…y’doin’ okay, Lite-Brite?” 

You can tell by the way his voice trembles that he’s doing his damndest to keep his shit together. Uraraka continues to hold the button on the helmet, motioning for you to continue talking. 

“Never better,” you joke, huffing out a laugh. “Food sucks here, though. I had to trick myself into thinking it was your cooking to even stomach it.” 

He exhales a quiet laugh. “I’ll make ya whatever you want when we get home. Now get your ass movin’ so we can get the hell outta here.” 

The signal turns off with a click. Uraraka takes the helmet from your head carefully and places it back on her own. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about you two when we get home!” she exclaims, pinching your pink cheeks lovingly. “I’ve missed you - we all have.”

“It’ll be a relief to have you home,” Kirishima chimes in. “C’mon, lets get a move on.” 

He stands from the cot and extends his hand for you to take. Him and Uraraka help you to your feet as you brush yourself off and fluff your hair over your shoulders.

“Are you hurt at all?” Kirishima asks, removing his arm from your back. He takes a look at your arms - they're covered in bruises of varying sizes and colors.

“Not on the surface, no. It’s a long story,” you explain. “The condensed version is they’re formulating a quirk suppressing drug. The experiments they’re running down here are fucking horrific.”

His face morphs into shock and slowly fades into sympathy. Flashbacks of the Overhaul situation from high school come flooding back to him, wincing at the thought of another anti-quirk uprising.

“But you’re okay?” Uraraka asks a second time as she takes your hand in hers, one pinky lifted to prevent her quirk from activating.

You decide to spare her the mental agony you've been through, saving it for later. “...yeah, I think so. Just exhausted. My quirk isn't fully restored, either.”

Kirishima’s earpiece beeps twice when a muffled voice comes through. He turns his head while clicking the button to respond.

“Yeah, we’ve got her. How’s it goin’ up there?” he asks. The voice that responds faintly resembles Midoriya's. He responds once more before clicking off the communicator. "Alright, we'll head up now. Hang tight!"

“There’s one stop I’d like to make before heading upstairs,” you say, knowing you do not want to leave the prison in your current hand-me-down clothes. “It’s around the corner.”

~ TIME: 9:54PM

Once you've successfully retrieved and changed into your hero suit, along with collecting your cellphone, the three of you proceeded to the second floor to meet up with Midoriya and Todoroki. You can't help but notice how the material hangs from your frame and no longer hugs you comfortably. It's to be expected, all things considered. Even though they fed you, the stress was more than enough to cause you to lose weight and muscle strength over the course of the month. If anything, it pissed you off to know you'd have to work hard to build back your prior stamina. 

They didn't bother to wash the damn suit, either. It thankfully didn't smell, per se, but was covered in aged splatters of dirt and grime. Your phone screen was also cracked, hinting that the lady who helped you dropped it "for effect," or some other stupid excuse to inconvenience you.

Your ears perk up at the sound of voices around the corner as Uraraka, Kirishima and yourself are approaching the second floor corridor. 

"There's only 10 hostages here, that's strange," Midoriya explains aloud, presumably to Todoroki. "I thought the reports noted more than 10. Maybe I'm misremembering..." his voice tapers off as he begins mumbling to himself. Oh how you've missed the sound of his rambling, something so minuscule but endearing about him. 

The three of you come into view, catching both of the boys' attention. Midoriya's eyes whip up toward you, emeralds glistening when they widen under the pale hallway lights. He’s charges down the hall to you, tripping over his own steps from the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

"Izuku!" you cry out when his body engulfs yours, gripping onto the back of his costume and squeezing the material as you buried your face into his shoulder. You can't help the tears reforming in your eyes as he spins you around, overwhelmed with joy to see you safe and sound. Before you can stop the tears, you're sobbing into the crook of his neck - a combination of relief and dread. 

"Hey...it's alright, Y/N. You're safe," he soothes. "It's okay."

Midoriya places your feet back on the floor, pulling back and cradling your face tenderly. Not surprising, he's got tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, too. He wipes some of the tears from your eyes with his gloved hand.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?" he asks, dropping your face from his hands while assessing your body for any visible harm. 

"N-no. Couple bruises, but that's about it," you stutter, a sudden tremble taking over your body. "Quirk's not..." you trail off while your vision dilates out of focus for a second. Midoriya doesn't skip a beat and catches you by the shoulders.

"Save your energy, Y/N. I'll carry you upstairs, okay?" his smile is genuine, but you can tell it's laced with anxiety. "We'll get you back to the entrance with Ashido and Jiro, they're keeping watch outside. We'll get the hostages out of here, too."

You nod, the vitality within you draining at a brutal pace. Could it be withdraw symptoms of the quirk suppressant? Is it possible to get addicted to such a drug? You're not sure what in the hell they mixed with the drug itself, it seemed to be different concoctions with each test. You're praying to any deity that would listen to be free of this hell.

Midoriya gives you a quick peck to your forehead before turning around, arms out and ready to lift you onto his back. Uraraka places a hand on your back to help you into his hold, securing your arms around his neck and legs tucked at his sides. 

"Uraraka, Kirishima, come help me gather the hostages," Todoroki notions, waving a hand to the cells at the end of the corridor. 

"Go ahead, I'll regroup with Kacchan upstairs and get her to safety," Midoriya vows with determination. The others hum in acknowledgement as the party separates.

~ TIME: 10:02PM Bakugo's stalking the area of the first floor, seeing a bunch of empty laboratories and rooms with no one in them. No one has reported any sightings of scientists, workers, or anything since they broke into the compound.

What the hell? Ears said this place was rattling with vibrations. Somethin's not right.

He's habitually calm during patrol missions, but now? His nerves are on fire, shoulders tensed from the stress in his heart. Bakugo couldn't shake his intuition, guts churning with unease at the silence of the facility. A faint scraping sound catches his attention, spinning on his heel with an arm raised. Taking careful steps, he makes his way back toward the entrance and into, what he presumed, the large concourse.

"It's about time one of you shows up," a woman's voice calls out, reverberating off the walls. Bakugo jumps back a few feet, gauntlets raised and hands prepared to fire explosions at any second.

"Who the fuck are you?" he seethes, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent his anger from overflowing. 

He hates that his gut feeling was right. ~ TIME: 10:12PM Midoriya is taking his time with you on his back, vigilantly navigating the two of you to the first floor. He's attempting to keep you as steady as possible, even though you've told him multiple times you're unharmed. Your head is tucked against the back of his shoulder.

"You holding up okay?" he asks, tilting his head back toward you.

"Yeah, thank you. I feel like if I let you go, I'll float away," you mutter, bitting your lip to prevent more tears from spilling out of your eyes. You're so fed up with crying, not wanting to be perceived as weak - a damsel in distress. Midoriya would never think you're anything less than strong, and you knew that in your heart, but still can't help feeling powerless in the moment.

He gives a reassuring squeeze to the back of your thighs. "Don't worry, no one will take you away from us ever again."

BOOM!

Midoriya halts in surprise, looking upward as the floor shook. The sound shakes you out of your self-deprecating chain of thought.

"Kacchan?! What's going on?" he asks frantically into his earpiece. There's static on the other line - no response. A few more explosions ring out above you two, increasing in succession.

"Dammit! Hang on tight," Midoriya warns, rocketing down the hallway while green energy begins crackling around his legs.  ~ TIME: 10:14PM "Talk about jumping the gun," the woman taunts Bakugo, sneering in his direction from across the lobby. "Afraid of the presence of a strong woman?"

Bakugo stood his ground, eyes fixated on the woman in the lab coat before him. Was he scared of her? Fuck no, not in the slightest. The thing that frightened him was she was alone - no one else showing their face in the facility thus far. Where was the man that took you away into the portal? Or any of the "henchmen" from that night?

"What an honor to have a top ten hero visit our lovely establishment, especially number four himself."

"Don't flatter yourself, especially 'cause you're alone," Bakugo yells back at her. He's trying to weed out the possibility of a sneak attack and rile up the woman to reveal her hidden defense. He knows she's got backup here, but where the fuck are they be hiding?

"Am I, though? I thought heroes were trained to have keener senses." 

Shadows appear on each side of her as her words hang in the room, revealing two more white cloaked men armed with dart guns. They simultaneously aim at Bakugo, the canisters reflecting the dark liquid in the chambers under the dim lighting.

Shit...! ~ TIME: 10:15PM Midoriya is approaching the open lobby with Bakugo in his sights in the main concourse. You can see over his shoulder that he's standing defensively, presuming that the enemy finally played their ace. 

"Izuku, I need you to launch me in front of Katsuki," you instruct, pointing a finger to his location.

"What?! No! I need to get you out of here," he retorts, shaking his head.

"Izuku. Please." 

Midoriya huffs, knowing you will not take no for an answer. Your heart is in the right place - he's right. You're in a weakened state, you should be rushing to the exit.

But that's not what heroes do. ~ TIME: 10:16PM "It was nice of that naïve little bitch to drag more heroes into our testing ring! Want a sample, darling?" She boasts, one hand on her hip as she points toward Bakugo with the other. "I think he'd benefit from it."

Bakugo hears a dart gun fire, but is distracted by a burst of energy shot out of a nearby corridor, blinding him momentarily with its radiance. He covers his eyes with his gauntlets, bracing himself for a surprise attack from the front as he takes a knee to the ground. He could hear the sounds of feet scuffing in front of him, along with glass hitting the ground, as if someone slid in from the sidelines. 

It wasn't an attack - no, it was a defensive shot. He squinted to sharpen the image of the shadow of whoever rushed to his defense, assuming it was Midoriya.

Time ceases its natural flow as Bakugo realizes who’s standing in front of him. He was speechless, mouth agape as he couldn't help the few stray tears fall from his awestricken eyes and roll over the leather of his mask. 

A glimmering energy shield danced in front of the two of you as you peer over your shoulder, shooting him wink and a smile.

"It's fine now, Dynamight. Why? Because I am here!"

Bakugo snorts, laughing hysterically at the absurd comment. His laugh is contagious and gets you giggling - your heart soars into the heavens hearing his laughter again, his joy curing the darkness swirling in your head temporarily. You never thought a moment like this would return to you anytime soon, and yet here you are, cackling at a dumb joke with your best friend on the damn battlefield. 

"Get up already, idiot," you chuckle, turning toward and extending a hand for him to take. His signature shit-eating grin spreads over his lips as he takes your hand with no hesitation.

"You came," you whisper, his hand lingering in your grasp.

Bakugo smiles, his eyes the gentlest you've ever seen them. "You called."

He tugs you into a hug, careful not to crush you too much with his gauntlets. He wants to melt into a puddle with the way you're clutching onto him like you can't get close enough, burrowing your face into his chest. You breathe him in, the faint scent of burnt sugar filling your senses while clawing at the back of his hero suit, not able to contain the heartache of being apart for so long - how it could have been your final days in this wretched hell.

Finally - you're reunited. You've found him, and he's found you. 

Everything's going to be...okay.

"Y/N, Kacchan - watch out!" Midoriya calls from hall, black whip vines reaching for the two of you. 

But it's too late. 

Again.

The energy barrier crackles behind you as it evaporates into the air. Everything begins to fade into a haze, that all too familiar filtered vision returning to you. Soon enough, you're slumping into Bakugo, your feet failing to keep you upright. 

"H-hey! What's wrong?!" he panics, clutching you tighter as your arms go limp, letting go of his back. "Talk to me, Y/N! What's happening?!"

That's when Bakugo peers over your shoulder and sees one of the dart capsules stuck in the back of your thigh, the injection mechanism switched on with an empty vial. There's a set of broken glass nearby, but that was only one of the darts. The second broke through the forcefield, your quirk not strong enough to parry both shots.

You can take it - you've endured it for a month. 

What's one more dose?

"Fuck! Lite-brite, hang on, I got ya," he reassures while taking a knee, lying you down as daintily as he can before ripping the dart from your thigh. You don't react - shit, you can't even feel the needle being pulled from your skin. He watches your eyes glaze over, their usual shine lightless under whatever chemicals are working their way through your system. 

"K-Ka-Kat-suki...," you whimper through broken syllables, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

Bakugo strokes your shoulders. “I’m here, I’m not leavin' ya.”

"Aww, what a lovely reunion!" the woman chimes in mockingly, regaining Bakugo's attention. The guards next to her have sheathed their guns and stand with their arms crossed.

"Color me surprised that she not only has connections to top ranked heroes, but close relationships with them? Talk about luck."

"What did you do to her?!" Bakugo's chest tightens, fury brewing hotter within himself. Midoriya makes his way over and slides to the ground beside Bakugo in a defensive stance.

"Little miss hero has been such an obedient subject, our best results thus far. Her quirk factors are strong - exactly what we were looking for."

"What did you give her?!" Midoriya repeats, eyes narrowing in her direction. 

The lady cackles to herself, proud of her accomplishments in breaking you from the inside out for her own benefit. 

"She was gullible enough to believe I was an undercover hero! I let her reach out so it would be easier to round up more test subjects - especially heroes. These civilian quirks were getting tiresome and boring to study." 

You were so fucking stupid for believing her. How could you be so naïve? The torture of this place was getting to be too much...you needed a miracle, no matter how narrow the possibility of escape looked. The desperation to be free was stronger than the ability to see through her lies. 

"She fell into our laps at the perfect time. Her psionic energy quirk has been groundbreaking for our serums, especially the hallucination and forced quirk exertion compounds. Speaking of, that one should be kicking in any minute now."

On queue, your body begins to twitch on its own, a surge of energy zapping you back to life. It's as if you're being puppeteered by an invisible handler, rising from the ground and to your feet. 

Both boys rocket to their feet, taking a guarded step back from you. Your head hangs low while your fingers flex, a glow emanating from your palms. Before they can ask any questions, your head snaps up at them, a spellbound look in your now flickering irises. 

"-the fuck?" Bakugo mutters, a horrified expression on his face. The pain is excruciating as the pressure of the energy is begging to be released in any way possible. You can't vocalize the pain through your quivering lips, the only hint at the anguish being the lone tear streaming down your face. 

"Now, subject 57 - begin sequence 23," the lady dictates, clapping her hands.

The instinct to fight becomes impossible to ignore, drowning out all of your attempts to regain control of your body. Instead, you're on auto-pilot, launching an attack toward Bakugo and Midoriya. They dodge out of your range, but you pivot lightning quick toward Midoriya, gunning to attack him.

"Hey, it's me! Izuku!" he yells as he weaves through your strikes, thinking it could wake you up from the mind control of the drug. "You know me!"

You successfully land an energetically charged punch to the right side of Midoriya's jaw, knocking him backward before kicking him in the chest and sending him skidding across the concrete. 

Bakugo approaches you from behind while you're distracted, gripping your shoulders firmly. 

"Calm down! We can work-"

You silence him by placing a hand on both his gauntlets, not bothering to turn and face him. Shockwaves of energy come bursting from your hands - his gauntlets shatter into pieces instantly, leaving his arms and face cut open from the shards. Next thing he knows, your fist is connecting to the underside of his jaw.

Bakugo grunts from the impact, gritting his teeth as he's trying to hold onto you a second time. 

"Hey! I know you're in there!"

Should we answer the door, or slam it in his face? 

…who the fuck is in my head?!

The devilish grin settling on your lips is enough to send shivers down his spine - that's not you. Something’s gotta be fucking with you in your head from the drugs. He swallows nervously, not knowing what to do to help you. You shove him away from you with an energy blast to the chest, sending him careening to the concrete like Midoriya. 

Your chest is heaving, huffing and puffing as the drug surges through every avenue of your body. You can barely form a cohesive thought, let alone understand what's happening around you. It's as if you are seeing yourself through a kaleidoscope lens - this unknown version of you  in the drivers seat. 

“What a marvelous display of success!” The woman cheers, hands clasped in front of her happily. “The ‘Overdrive’ serum is exceptional in true combat.”

Something whips at you from behind and wraps around your arms and torso. 

“Stay…still!” Midoriya shouts, pulling the black whip vines taut to keep you in place. You wiggle in its grasp, grunting and thrashing around like a caged animal. 

“Ah, fuck that hurt…Deku! Let her go,” Bakugo calls out as he’s picking himself up off the ground, wincing at the pain in his jaw. “I got her. Take care of that bitch in the coat!”

“But Kacchan, the drug-”

“Trust me, dammit! Let her go before I make you!”

Midoriya retracts black whip as it releases its hold on you. He’s about to leap toward the group of scientists when the rest of the rescue team appears with the hostages in tow, scurrying down the far hallway. He motions for them to keep going to their exit as planned. Uraraka shoots him a nod and thumbs up. 

“Huh? Who opened the cell locks?!” The lady yells, pointing to the rescue team as they disappear down the corridor to freedom. She’s about to charge after them when Midoriya stomps in her path, fists raised in preparation to fight. 

“Your fight’s with me, lady. No matter what, you’re under arrest according to the laws of hero society. You can surrender, or I can make you surrender.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a threat to bring us in, hero. We’re making world changing progress that's far beyond your jurisdiction.”

Midoriya winds back and jumps into action against the scientists. Meanwhile, Bakugo’s got his eyes locked on you on the far side of the room, gesturing for you to come over to him. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, I don’t wanna fight,” he starts, taking cautious steps in your direction to close the gap between you two. “I wanna help, Lite-brite. I know you're in there.” 

You can't trust him, he's a monster and you're his prey. He's only here to hurt you, to keep you down. Don't let him near us...don't let him near us!

He stops in his tracks when you visibly recoil, clutching your head in your hands with a blood curdling scream. Midoriya whips his head around to the sound, catching him off guard and causing him to take a hit from one of the men. He shakes it off, trusting Bakugo with your well being instead of rushing to your side. 

Bakugo sprints to you, wrapping his blood stained arms around you with no hesitation. You flail, smacking at his arms with open palms, weakened energy pouring out of you with each hit.

Hurt...kill him. Take the monster down.

"Let go of me, Katsuki!" you shriek out of nowhere, hopelessly trying to shove him away from you. 

"No! I'm never letting you go again!" he shouts back, squeezing you tighter. The bursts of energy from your palms are kicking up in strength again as you continue to swat at his body, red marks forming on his exposed skin. 

"I'm not fuckin' losing you a second goddamn time!" 

He can tell that you're spiraling, that this serum is driving you mad inside your head. If only he could go into your mind and pluck out those vicious thoughts, free you of the agony and take some of that weight onto his shoulders.

If you don't take care of him, I'll make you.

"I don't want to hurt you, I can't control this!" You're sobbing, the looming thoughts forcing you to wallow in the pain. "Please...!"

Bakugo grapples the back of your suit, the neoprene material bunched in his shaky hands, locking in his decision to stay put. "I can take it...don't you dare let me go!"

Something in his declaration to stay by your side snaps you back to reality, enough to control the output of your quirk for a split second, stopping the outbursts of energy. The clouds in your eyes start to disperse, clearing the fog from your sight.

You can fight me all you want. I'll always be part of you, waiting in the shadows for you to break again. 

No words leave you as tears gush from your swollen eyes, bawling against Bakugo's chest in defeat. He loosens his grip to pull you away from him, forcibly making eye contact with you. His heart sinks at the sight of your bloodshot stare, but he can see that you're eyes are not as nebulous as before, energy no longer dancing around your pupils. Maybe the drug is wearing off? It's hasn't been an hour, but it's possible this version has a shorter fuse than the normal quirk suppressant.

"No need to cry," he comforts, thumbing away the tears dribbling off your chin. "Everythin's fine. See? Just a few scratches." He points to his biceps and cheek, tiny cuts from the shards of his gauntlets explosively bursting apart. 

That well-known lightheadedness from past experiments returns tenfold, your body's energy depleted to nothing. Bakugo must see the exhaustion in your body language as he helps you settle onto the ground. He takes the mask off his face, untying the back of it. 

"Sit back for a sec."

Bakugo pushes the hair out of your face and runs his hand into your hairline, brushing it back as he stretches the leather of the mask over your forehead. He ties a small knot at the back and tucks it under the remainder of your hair, creating a makeshift headband. Once he's satisfied with it, he taps the earpiece to call into the rescue team.

"Need someone to call the agency, get the cops here an' round up these assholes."

Kirishima responds instantly. "You wanna call the agency? I thought-"

Bakugo cuts him off. "Change'a plans. Get on it, Red! And have Cheeks come back down, need her to lift Lite-brite outta here." He huffs before tapping the earpiece a second time to disconnect the line and casts his eyes toward Midoriya. Two of the scientists are knocked unconscious, the only person left being the witch that started it all.

Bakugo's attention is drawn back to you at the sound of your sniffling. Your tears have dried on your cheeks, faint stains reflecting in the light. He knows you're safe now, no longer lashing out uncontrollably from the fucked up substance in your system. You look like you could collapse and pass out at any moment, but are fighting the urge to let yourself rest.

"Hey," he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear. You turn, head tilted to the side like it's too heavy for your neck to hold, blinking lazily at him.

Even in this disheveled state, Bakugo is aching to kiss you. He knows it's not the right time, not even close to the perfect moment, but the desire burning a hole in his chest is difficult to ignore. Fuck - he didn't even know if he was ever going to see you again outside of his dreams, and here you are.  ~ TIME: 10:38PM "You think you have me cornered, don't you?" the lady jeers at Midoriya. "A revolution is upon us - my revolution. My masterpiece is ready."

Without warning, she pulls a dart gun out of her lab coat, positioning it against her jugular vein. The sounds of her wicked snickering fill the concourse as the dart gun fires, injecting an unknown toxic into her bloodstream.

"Kacchan!" Midoriya cries out, catching Bakugo's attention. "We've got a problem!"

The dart gun clatters to the ground as the scientist convulses, her limbs spasming unnaturally as she wails in pain. She composes herself after a moment, raising her gaze from the floor to Midoriya, her eyes aflame with energy pulsing out of them.

Holy shit. 

She's got your quirk.

"Not so tough now, boys! Now come on, let's dance!"

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — i'm so, sooooo sorry for the delay on this chapter! hopefully it being the longest in the series makes up for it! i honestly just kept writing, deleting, writing, deleting for over a month. but i'm content with this. enjoy the ride! ⇢  tag list! @bakugouswaif @k1tk4tkatsuki @bells2319 @st0nedbitch @deftonianfr @musicbecky @bakubae-by @slayfics @maddietries

[novaursa]

A Lion's Leap (strategic truce)

- Summary: The king announces the betrothal of his youngest daughter, you, to Tyland Lannister. But even the Lannister Lord is taken off guard, as there has been some miscommunication regarding the proposal.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: This is the last chapter in this story.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: unplanned, unbroken

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @misspendragonsworld

It was a quiet morning at Casterly Rock—a rare and precious occurrence. Tyland had just poured himself a cup of wine and was savoring the peaceful moment when a raven arrived from King’s Landing. He took the message with a casual nod, but his expression quickly shifted from calm to bewildered as he read through the words penned in Otto Hightower’s unmistakable, formal handwriting.

You looked up from your seat, noticing his frown. “Something troubling, love?”

Tyland cleared his throat, squinting at the letter as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. “It’s from Otto. He’s… calling for a truce?”

“A truce?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What on earth could he want a truce for?”

Tyland huffed, waving the parchment around. “Apparently, because our children are ‘terrorizing’ the realm. He says their ‘antics’ are making troop movements and shipments from King’s Landing to the surrounding regions ‘unsafe.’”

You snorted, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Our children? Causing havoc across the realm? Surely he’s exaggerating.”

“Oh, no, he’s quite specific,” Tyland muttered, skimming the letter with an expression caught between amusement and indignation. “He claims that Alyssa and Daemon ‘swooped upon a supply convoy’ near the Stormlands, scaring the horses and leaving the soldiers fleeing for cover.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “Well, that sounds like them, doesn’t it?”

Tyland gave you a look, though you could tell he was trying not to laugh himself. “And then they apparently decided to ‘escort’ a fleet near Blackwater Bay, which involved them setting a few of the sails on fire ‘for sport,’ as he put it.”

“Setting sails on fire? I must say, they’re getting creative.” You smirked, clearly proud of the havoc your children had been causing.

“Oh, but here’s the best part,” Tyland continued, shaking his head in disbelief. “Otto insists that if we can’t ‘rein in our offspring,’ he’ll be forced to consider drastic measures.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Drastic measures, you say?”

Tyland rolled his eyes. “The man is calling for a truce, all because our children decided to treat the realm like their personal playground. And he has the nerve to ask me, of all people, to ‘bring my household in line.’ As if I’m responsible for the dragons too.”

“Oh, love,” you said, placing a hand on his arm, “don’t be offended. If anything, it’s a compliment. Our children are so much trouble, even Otto Hightower himself is begging us to intervene.”

Tyland scoffed, setting the letter down with an indignant huff. “A truce over two Lannisters and their dragons. The man must be at his wits’ end.”

You grinned, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, if he wanted us on his side, he should have thought of that before conspiring to marry us off in the first place.”

Tyland laughed, though his tone was still tinged with disbelief. “Imagine the gossip in King’s Landing. ‘The Hand of the King forced into negotiation by a pair of Lannister dragonriders.’ If anything, this letter should be framed.”

“Or perhaps,” you suggested, leaning back with a smirk, “we could write back to Otto, saying we’d consider a truce if he sends along a detailed list of all the trouble our children have caused. Just for our amusement.”

Tyland chuckled, clearly amused by the thought. “I’m half-tempted to, just to watch him squirm. But honestly, what does he expect us to do? Chain them to their beds?”

“Perhaps we could suggest a family visit to King’s Landing,” you said with mock seriousness. “Let him deal with the children in person if he thinks it’s so simple.”

Tyland’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Now that might be the finest revenge of all. Can you imagine Otto trying to reason with Daemon and Alyssa?”

You both dissolved into laughter at the image, picturing Otto’s face as he attempted to lecture your children about “proper behavior” while they circled him with dragon-induced chaos. Tyland took a deep breath, finally setting the letter aside.

“Well,” he said, picking up his cup again, “let Otto fret all he likes. A truce over dragon-induced inconveniences… as if that’s going to stop our children.”

You smiled, lifting your own water cup in a toast. “To young Daemon and Alyssa, then. Terrors of the realm and Hightower’s nightmare.”

Tyland clinked his cup against yours, grinning. “May they keep him up at night as much as they’ve kept us entertained.”

And with that, the two of you shared a hearty laugh, knowing that the realm would have to adjust to a new kind of rule—the kind where your children could turn even the Hand of the King into a pleading, desperate negotiator.

In the low lit chambers of the Red Keep, Otto Hightower paced the floor, his face a set in a grimace of frustration as he discussed recent losses with his daughter, Queen Alicent. Aegon lounged nearby, looking thoroughly disinterested as he swirled his goblet of wine, while Aemond stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed and looking particularly annoyed.

“We are losing supplies, morale, and most importantly, patience,” Otto said, his voice taut with irritation. “Those Targaryen-Lannister children are making a mockery of our efforts. Every convoy, every shipment, disrupted or terrorized. It’s becoming untenable.”

Aegon snickered, clearly entertained by the chaos. “Well, Grandsire, who’d have thought you’d be bested by a pair of them? I’d almost feel sorry for you if it weren’t so amusing.”

Alicent shot her son a withering glare. “This is hardly a laughing matter, Aegon. Your throne is at stake.”

Aegon raised his goblet in mock salute. “Yes, and I can clearly see that my throne’s greatest threat is a couple of young dragon-riders playing tag across the realm.”

Aemond’s expression darkened as he glowered into his own drink. “Those… brats,” he muttered, “need a lesson in discipline.”

Otto paused, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his chin. “Perhaps discipline isn’t the only way to handle them.” He looked pointedly at Aemond. “If we want to avoid further... ‘mishaps,’ perhaps we should consider a strategic marriage.”

Aemond arched an eyebrow, clearly not following. “A strategic marriage?”

“Yes.” Otto’s gaze sharpened, a slight gleam of calculation in his eyes. “You, Aemond, could marry Alyssa. It would bring a certain level of… control over the situation.”

At this, Aemond, in the middle of taking a drink, promptly choked, spraying wine all over the floor. “Marry Alyssa?” he sputtered, looking as if he’d just been told to walk barefoot over hot coals. “You must be joking.”

Aegon burst out laughing, slapping his knee as he watched his brother’s horrified expression. “Now that would be a sight. Aemond, trying to tame a Lannister. Go on, Otto, this is the best suggestion I’ve heard in ages.”

Alicent, still somewhat stunned by the idea, looked at Otto skeptically. “Father, Alyssa is… spirited, to say the least. I doubt she’d easily fall in line.”

Otto shrugged. “Spirited or not, the match would ensure some form of influence over them. And it would bring peace to this absurd game of cat and mouse.”

Aemond, regaining his composure, glared at Otto. “I’d sooner face a battlefield than court that wild dragonling. She has about as much interest in me as I do in playing nursemaid to her mischief.”

Aegon snickered, clearly delighted by the suggestion. “Oh, come now, Aemond. Think of the possibilities. You could spend your days flying after her, trying to keep her from setting more sails on fire.”

Aemond shot his brother a murderous glare. “Not another word, Aegon, or I’ll personally send you to Pentos.”

At the mention of Pentos, Aegon’s face suddenly brightened. “Speaking of which—Mother, Grandfather, I’ve had a rather brilliant idea.”

Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh, Seven save us, what now?”

Aegon leaned forward, grinning. “Let’s just… go to Pentos ourselves. Let Rhaenyra have the bloody crown, and we’ll take a nice, quiet life across the Narrow Sea. No throne, no dragons, no pesky nephews and nieces playing aerial games with the troops.”

Alicent looked utterly appalled. “Aegon, that is not an option. The throne is your birthright.”

Aegon shrugged. “Birthright or not, it’s starting to sound like more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, Rhaenyra can keep the realm’s dragons from eating the sheep. Everyone wins.”

Aemond scoffed, looking at his brother as if he’d sprouted two heads. “You would just… leave? After everything?”

Aegon held up his goblet in a toast. “Oh, I’d leave in a heartbeat. No more Otto sending ravens about ‘urgent matters,’ no more dragon antics causing political fallout. Just wine, women, and no more Targaryen infighting. Sounds like paradise, if you ask me.”

Otto’s face darkened. “Paradise or not, this is the Iron Throne we’re talking about, Aegon. You have responsibilities to the realm.”

Aegon waved a dismissive hand. “Responsibilities, sure. But who’s to say the realm wouldn’t be better off with Rhaenyra? Perhaps she’s better suited to handling… unruly cousins.”

Alicent looked horrified, turning to Otto for support. “Father, surely you have a plan to stop this madness. We can’t just hand over the throne.”

Otto, ever the strategist, sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, these… incidents will continue unless we find a way to rein in those children. We’ll need something beyond Aemond’s patience, which appears thin enough as it is.” He glanced back at Aemond, who still looked mutinous about the marriage suggestion.

Aegon laughed again, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Oh, by all means, try your plan, Otto. Maybe a marriage is exactly what Aemond needs to keep him… entertained.”

Aemond shot him a death glare, gripping his goblet so tightly it looked like he might shatter it. “You’ll pay for this amusement, brother.”

Otto, clearly unimpressed with Aegon’s antics, crossed his arms. “Until a more agreeable option presents itself, Aemond, consider the marriage proposal.”

Aemond gritted his teeth. “The day I marry Alyssa Lannister will be the day I willingly set foot in the Dragonpit unarmed.”

Aegon, smirking, raised his goblet in a mocking toast. “To marriage, and to Pentos—where we’d all be much happier.”

Otto and Alicent shared a look of exasperation, but Aegon’s laughter rang out, echoing through the chamber as he toasted his bemused and thoroughly vexed family.

The great hall of Dragonstone was unusually lively as Rhaenyra received a raven with an unexpected invitation—one that bore the official seal of the Hand of the King himself. Her advisors and family gathered around, watching her as she broke the seal and began to read.

Jacaerys, standing close by, looked on with curiosity. “What does it say, Mother?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes scanned the parchment, her brows rising in disbelief. She read aloud: “‘In light of recent… unfortunate incidents caused by young Daemon and Alyssa Lannister, the Hand of the King formally requests a peace meeting between the factions of the Blacks and Greens, to be held at a mutually agreed location.’” She paused, blinking, then added, “‘It is the hope of King Aegon and his council that we may bring an end to hostilities, for the good of the realm.’”

The room fell silent, and then, as if in perfect timing, Daemon—who just returned from Harrenhal—let out a hearty laugh, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “So, it took a couple of Lannisters with dragons to bring Otto Hightower to his knees?”

Rhaenyra smirked, setting the letter down. “It appears that young Daemon and Alyssa have accomplished more mischief than even Otto could handle. They’re practically forcing him into peace talks.”

Baela and Rhaena, standing by with identical smirks, exchanged a glance. “To think,” Baela said, “all it took was some aerial pranks and a bit of ‘creative’ intimidation.”

Jacaerys looked mildly stunned. “Our cousins… forced Otto’s hand? By what? Stealing his supply caravans?”

Daemon grinned, crossing his arms. “Oh, it was much more than that, my boy. They turned half his fleet into smoldering wrecks, and it seems they’ve taken to using his convoys as practice targets. I’d wager Hightower’s had about enough of that.”

Rhaenyra couldn’t suppress her own amusement, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Otto must be beside himself with fury, having to call for peace because of two teenage dragonriders.” She paused, reading the parchment once more. “And to think, he’s phrased it all so… carefully, as though this were a matter of great diplomacy.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. “Diplomacy, my love? No, this is a white flag. Hightower’s waving it desperately before young Daemon and Alyssa burn more of his prized fleets.”

The group shared a round of laughter, the tension in the room melting away at the absurdity of it all. Rhaenyra lifted her chin, her smile transforming into a thoughtful look. “Well, if it means a chance to end this war, perhaps we should consider his invitation. Even if it was coerced.”

Ser Erryk, ever loyal, raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it’s safe, Princess? To trust Otto Hightower?”

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Safe? Hardly. But if they’re going to such lengths, I say we give them a taste of Targaryen hospitality. We’ll make sure to bring the children along, just as a reminder.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “Oh, yes. I’d like to see Otto’s face when Alyssa and young Daemon arrive.”

Joffrey, always full of energy and rarely still, piped up, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Are we all going? Are we going to show them what real dragons look like?”

Rhaenyra’s smile softened, and she placed a hand on Joffrey’s shoulder. “Not all of us, my love. But perhaps just enough of us to remind them why we are not to be trifled with.”

Daemon chuckled, patting Joffrey’s head. “Just imagine, love—Otto, desperately trying to keep his composure while two Lannister dragons swoop over his head.”

The hall burst into laughter again at the mental image of Otto Hightower, stiff as a board, watching Daemon and Alyssa dart through the sky in mock intimidation. Jacaerys shook his head, clearly still stunned. “It’s unbelievable. Of all the strategies, all the battles, and it’s this that forces his hand?”

Rhaenyra gave him a wry smile. “Perhaps we’ve all been thinking too much like adults. Daemon and Alyssa saw an opportunity we might never have considered. And it seems to have worked.”

Daemon folded his arms, clearly proud. “Oh, I don’t doubt it worked. But let’s be clear—this meeting doesn’t mean we’ll be playing nice. We go with our heads high, our dragons ready, and our terms firmly in place.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her expression resolute. “Exactly. Let Otto stew in his own desperation a bit longer. We’ll make him understand that we are not here to be pacified or bribed. If he wants peace, he’ll have to pay for it.”

As she looked around at her family and allies, she felt a surge of pride. This was her family, her strength, and with Daemon, her children, and her loyal supporters by her side, she knew they were unstoppable. Whatever Otto had planned, she would be ready.

Taking up a fresh sheet of parchment, she began to draft her reply, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Shall we make this… official, then?”

Daemon grinned, standing beside her. “Yes, let’s. And perhaps add a note for young Daemon and Alyssa: ‘Your recent ‘diplomatic efforts’ have not gone unnoticed.’”

The hall echoed with another round of laughter as Rhaenyra wrote, each word crafted with the precision of a queen who knew that, in the end, dragons could win the day—whether they were on the battlefield or in the sky, piloted by a pair of teenage terrors who had turned diplomacy into an art form of mischief.

The Blacks and the Greens had gathered in a neutral castle, the great hall prepared as though it were the stage for some dark comedy.

Rhaenyra and her family arrived in grand fashion, her children flanking her with the reader and Tyland standing proudly beside them. Alyssa and young Daemon both looked particularly pleased with themselves, clearly relishing the fact that their antics had led to this moment. Tyland, meanwhile, looked slightly weary but kept a tight hold on his dignity, which was more than could be said for the other side.

Otto Hightower sat stiffly with Alicent beside him, both looking thoroughly resigned, while Aegon lounged in his chair, clearly bored. Aemond stood nearby, his face a mask of irritation that barely concealed his nerves. He looked over at Alyssa and young Daemon with something that might have been dread mixed with respect.

Otto cleared his throat, his voice strained but formal. “We’re here to discuss the possibility of a lasting peace between our families. It’s clear that the realm suffers each day this conflict continues.”

Rhaenyra gave him a measured nod. “Go on, Otto. Speak your terms.”

Otto shot her a stiff smile, turning to Aemond, then to Alyssa, who stood with her chin held high, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “To secure our peace,” Otto began, choosing his words with care, “I propose that Alyssa Lannister marry Prince Aemond. A union between them would seal our families’ bond and bring stability to Westeros.”

Aemond, sipping from his goblet, choked slightly, shooting his uncle a horrified look. Alyssa, however, seemed entirely unfazed. She arched an eyebrow, considering the proposal with a surprising air of indifference.

“Well,” she said, her tone thoughtful, “I can think of worse matches.” She threw Aemond a mischievous look, watching as his face turned an impressive shade of red.

Aemond set his goblet down a bit too forcefully, looking completely unprepared for her response. “Wait… you’re not objecting?”

Alyssa shrugged, flashing him a challenging smile. “What’s there to object to? I think you’ll find I’m quite a handful.”

Aegon let out a snort, clapping his hands together in mock applause. “This meeting’s already worth it for that alone! Poor Aemond, bound to be outwitted by a Lannister.” He leaned back, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

Rhaenyra, regaining her composure, steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. “That’s all very charming, Otto,” she said, eyes narrowing, “but what of the throne?”

Aegon, as if waiting for this moment, waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, the throne.” He sighed heavily, looking every bit the bored king. “Honestly, Rhaenyra, if you want it so badly, you can have it. Helaena and I have been talking, and we’re quite eager to go on a grand tour—explore the realm, visit Essos. The crown’s just been…” He searched for the word. “Dull.”

Alicent’s mouth fell open, and Otto’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. “Aegon!” Alicent hissed. “This is not the time for foolish jokes!”

But Aegon just shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Mother, I’m completely serious. Rhaenyra here wants the Iron Throne, I’d prefer to see the rest of the world, and honestly, it feels like a win for everyone. Besides, maybe ruling will be as dull for her as it was for me. Then we can all laugh about it.”

Rhaenyra shot him a look that was equal parts baffled and amused. “You mean to say… you’d give up the throne?”

Aegon raised his goblet in a mock toast. “Absolutely. All yours, dear sister. I’ll keep the crown as a keepsake, of course. Just a souvenir.”

Otto’s head snapped toward Tyland and you, who were quietly watching the entire display with mild amusement. Otto’s eyes narrowed, noticing your advanced pregnancy, the way you held your hand to your back as if the strain was weighing on you.

“How many children are you planning to have?” Otto asked, his voice coming out in a strained whisper as he watched Tyland’s relaxed, almost smug expression.

Tyland feigned surprise, putting a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Oh, I’d say… six? Or perhaps a full dozen? It’s hard to say, really. We do seem to have a knack for growing the family, don’t we, love?”

You shot Tyland an amused look, catching the glint of jest in his eye, and nodded with a sly smile. “Who knows, Otto? It may end up being more. Dragons and Targaryens have a way of multiplying.”

Otto looked positively stricken, his face ashen as he contemplated the idea of even more dragon-wielding Lannisters tearing across the realm.

Alicent glanced at her father, noting the horror on his face. “Father, I think… perhaps we should have prepared for this meeting differently.”

Otto shot her a look of exasperation. “Oh, trust me, Alicent. I had preparations… but nothing could have prepared me for this family.”

Tyland leaned over, lowering his voice just enough for Otto to hear. “Now, Otto, think of it as… population growth. A sign of peace and prosperity.”

Otto closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. But before he could say anything more, Rhaenyra turned back to him, her voice calm but steely.

“Well, Otto,” she said, “it seems you’ve gotten what you wanted—a union, peace, and a clear path to the throne. Just as you planned, isn’t it?”

Otto’s mouth opened, then closed, clearly at a loss. He looked around at the grinning Aegon, the smug Tyland, the mischievous Alyssa, and the serene Y/N, and finally slumped in his chair, thoroughly defeated.

“Yes,” he muttered, almost to himself, “exactly as I planned.”

And as the room filled with laughter and smirks, it was clear to everyone present that the Greens had lost not just a battle, but their last shred of dignity as well.

The grand hall was alive with music and laughter as the great celebration for Alyssa’s and Aemond’s wedding reached its peak. Lords and ladies from all corners of the realm raised their goblets in toast after toast, their voices mingling with the melodies played by the musicians. Even Aegon, normally so indifferent to royal festivities, seemed genuinely amused as he clinked goblets with guests, a lazy smile on his face.

But amid the revelry, there was one figure notably absent: you, the bride’s mother.

Instead of joining the festivities, you were in a nearby chamber giving birth, a fact that had drawn murmurs of both awe and concern among the guests. Tyland, ever the loyal husband, had been in the room with you as long as possible, pacing and muttering encouragement, though it was clear he was barely holding himself together.

Outside, however, there was another spectacle in full swing. Viseron, your son Daemon’s dragon, was trying his very best to stick his massive bronze head through the doors of the great hall from the courtyard. Every now and then, the dragon’s golden-green eye would peek through the doorway, much to the terror of Ser Criston Cole and his men, who were trying—without much success—to deter the curious beast from sticking his snout into the festivities.

“Back! Go on, shoo!” Ser Criston waved his arms frantically, his usually stern expression replaced by one of pure desperation.

Viseron, unimpressed, tilted his head, letting out a low rumble that sent half of Criston’s men scrambling for cover. The dragon huffed, smoke billowing from his nostrils, making it abundantly clear that he had no intention of being shooed away from whatever curious noises were happening inside the hall.

Just as Ser Criston was about to wave for more reinforcements, the doors swung open, and Tyland burst into the great hall, his face flushed but positively beaming. He cleared his throat, shouting above the din of the party, “My lords and ladies, it is my pleasure to announce… that my wife has given birth!”

A cheer rose through the hall, goblets raised as shouts of congratulations filled the air. Tyland held up a hand, grinning. “And not only that—twins! A son and a daughter!”

The hall erupted in another round of cheers, even louder than the first. Guests raised their glasses, laughing and clapping, and Aegon whistled, clearly entertained by the news. “Twins, you say?” he called out, smirking. “Well done, Tyland! Twice the dragons, twice the trouble!”

Tyland chuckled, but his smile faltered slightly as he caught sight of Prince Daemon standing up from his seat at the high table, a smirk on his face and… two dragon eggs, one in each hand.

“I thought this moment might come soon,” Daemon declared with a glint in his eye, holding up the eggs for all to see. “So I brought these along in case. Gifts for the newest Targaryens.”

Tyland’s face turned several shades paler, and he nearly dropped his goblet. “Daemon… two dragon eggs?” His voice was barely more than a squeak as he looked at the eggs, which gleamed with fiery hues under the candlelight.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, you have two new children, don’t you? It seems only fitting they each have an egg of their own.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the hall as guests exchanged knowing smiles. Tyland’s eyes darted to the dragon eggs, then to Daemon, then back to the eggs as if calculating just how much more chaos his household could take.

“I… well, I appreciate the thought,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, “but perhaps we could… delay the dragon gifts just a little bit?”

Daemon smirked, stepping forward and placing the eggs on a cloth-covered table, the heat from them palpable even from a distance. “Come now, Tyland. You married into this family. This is what you signed up for.”

Aegon, lounging nearby, raised his goblet in a toast. “Here’s to more dragons! I say the realm’s overdue for a few more fire-breathing beasts.”

The guests laughed and clinked glasses, while Tyland cast a sidelong glance at his son Daemon and daughter Alyssa, who were clearly relishing their father’s discomfort. Alyssa leaned over to her brother, her voice loud enough for Tyland to hear. “What do you think, Daemon? Shall we teach the twins dragon-riding as soon as they can walk?”

Young Daemon grinned, casting his father a wicked smile. “Absolutely. We’ll have them in saddles by the time they’re talking.”

Tyland looked as if he were about to faint, muttering something about needing a very strong drink. But before he could escape, Prince Daemon clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “You’ll be fine, Tyland. Look at it this way—you’re helping to rebuild the Targaryen legacy one dragon at a time.”

In the background, Viseron took another try at sticking his head through the doorway, sending a plume of smoke wafting into the hall. Ser Criston’s desperate shouts were barely audible over the cheers and laughter, and one could only imagine the chaos waiting outside as the dragon continued to persist in his curiosity.

Tyland sighed, resigning himself to his fate, raising his goblet one last time in a toast. “To family, to dragons… and to surviving this mad, mad world.”

The hall echoed with laughter as the celebration continued, and somewhere in the crowd, someone muttered, “Only a Targaryen wedding would end with two new dragons on the way and a dragon trying to join the party.”

And with that, the revelry resumed, leaving Tyland with the knowledge that his family—and his household—was about to become more chaotic, more fiery, and far more unforgettable than he had ever anticipated.

[frogchiro]

hi me again i know its not eremites but my brain has been HAAAUUNNNNTEEED by omegaverse and COD i just know for a fact Ghost n Price share a role as "leader" of the pack, more Price than Ghost (warrior cat brain: DEPUTY GHOST *WACK*) and yes the entire pack takes care of their sweet omega but they feel the most weight of keeping her happy n healthy :<< Ughehrgrgrgrr Ghost is a silent lover, (this can really apply for annnnnyy au im just barfing my brain out here) brushing your hair out of your face as you sleep, cheek smooshed against your pillow. Oh my god you know that man would invest in silk pillow cases if you mentioned that silk is better for your skin n hair. That one stuffie you can't seem to sleep without, it never seems to get dirty, you don't think much of it. That's cause Ghost brushes it out for you, making sure theres no limp neck syndrome either (basically the fluff gets separated from body n head leaving none for neck) mention that you like a certain snack? or found a childhood snack you had but could never find after a certain point? at least 5 of them in the cupboard, 2 if they come in big packs.

John loves to spend time together with his sweet girl, he doesnt often have the time for it but when he does he loves to savour it. Loves Loves Loves being able to have you on his lap, a cigar in one hand, the other on your waist and a whiskey on the table next to his recliner. Memorizes your routine, if you have somewhere to be that you have to wake up for, he wakes you up, very gently. Kisses against your shoulder, traveling to your face. Kissing your cheek before turning you onto your back, just admires your relaxed face before he whispers your name. ASS!! GRABBER!!! grabs your ass, sure here n there he'll greet you with a gentle spank but he. grabs. ASS. He memorizes your coffee order too!! He may tease you a bit if it something like, 80% cream, 12% sugar and 8% coffee but still. sniffle snorgle so sorry for the long ask snifhghgrngr i love them. and i LOVE your blog, been following for a super long time, found you from pierro tags and just been obsessed. Take care of yourself okay?? MWAH (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

AHHHH THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS DARLING *MWUAH* I'm really glad you like my humble little blog so much and stick around for such a long time <3

I'm gonna go with omegaverse with these again bc I'm obsessed :<

And yes yes you're right!! Alpha Si is a silent lover but he's so expressive when he wants to be! If you're close enough you'll see all the little things; ticks, micro expressions even with the balaclava and/or mask, the little noises like chuffs or rumbles, everything! It's like a whole new world opens up and that's when makes being mated to Ghost beautiful <3

And he can be surprisingly clingy and touchy too! Definitely not right from the start but give him time and soon you'll have a 6'3 baby clinging onto you. What he may lack in verbal communication he compensates with physical affection and little noises; he will literally purr like an engine and make little chirrups in answer to your own as you nuzzle and preen each other in your nest.

Another thing about him are his surprisingly strong nesting instincts! He never really got to make a nest, or rather felt safe enough to do it. With his past, his father who always mocked him for nesting it never felt right until he got with you. Will take up the whole bed and literally roll in it so it's covered with his scent and pheromones and let out a pleased rumble when he finally deems his den good enough and safe before dumping you in it <3

Alpha!Price on the other hand loves quality time spent with you <3 He's much more verbal with you than Si and is quite touch himself in the privacy of his office or den, will always try and keep a hand on you and never let you out of his sight. He's the oldest of the alphas, much more mature and secure in his position as head alpha but will bellow and growl like crazy if he went out for a second out of the den to check up on something and upon returning he notices that you're not there anymore only for you to return from the bathroom confused what's all the commotion about.

Would never admit it out loud but he loves loves loves scenting you! Especially if you're on base with him. John has a strong masculine smell that screams 'ALPHA' in the most pleasant way; will make you go weak in the knees just from a whiff <3

Likes to rub on you when you're laying in your nest at night, his face shoved right into your scent glands and your delighted giggles bring him immense joy as he tickles you with his beard <3

[veltana]

Sell my soul - 1

✦ Pairing: Lloyd Hansen/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Lloyd, Omega!Reader, omega auction, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (sugar plum).

✦ Summary: Lloyd buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series and the parts will be short, but I hope you like it any way! I started writing this because Lloyd was trying to hijack my brain and take over the Buy my heart series, so he got his own instead, and I'm gonna make him suffer 😈 Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

“This is bullshit,” you mutter as you pull on the sheer dress. It's basically see-through. Why can't you wear regular clothes? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you have to sell yourself, you have to be as close to naked as possible also?

But you do it anyway and don't say anything more. This is really your very last resort. Everything else you've tried so far has been a failure.

Panic starts to rise in your chest. What if he's out there? What if he buys you?

Then you realize that everyone sitting out there is an alpha and he wouldn't be allowed in. It calms your nerves a bit but you still glance around now and then as you wait for your turn. He's found you before. You're not safe anywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Lloyd growls as he adjusts the mask covering his face. He recognizes the scents of at least three alphas, despite being unable to see their faces. The masks aren't hiding shit. He knows they're more for the omegas on stage than for the alphas but so far the entire event has been a disappointment, and he regrets attending.

Instead, he studies the high ceiling and artwork on the walls, only glancing at the omegas appearing, one after another getting bought.

Just as he's about to up and leave the omega on stage catches his attention. Eyes that keep flickering and a stubborn mouth, but otherwise delectable! He raises his paddle before he even knows it. A few people bid too, but Lloyd is determined. His paddle is the last to go up.

The omega's mouth is a thin line. A smile cracks Lloyd's face below the mask as he rises and makes his way out to pick up his newly acquired omega.

“Be nice, be nice, be nice. Be nice to the alpha who bought you. You need his protection.” You remind yourself as you stand outside in your clothes after being shown out by the attendant. There isn't an alpha around and your eyes keep searching. You don't like to be out in the open like this but if you huddle against the wall he's probably going to think you're weird. Or you'd have to explain.

With a roar, a flashy sports car pulls up. The owner steps out and looks at you. He’s tall with neat hair slicked back, a mustache above his smile, eyes sparkling with glee. You look away, he obviously thinks you're a prostitute. It would be great if your fucking alpha could show up.

“Hey, get in!” The man calls. You glance at him before saying, “I'm waiting for someone.” “Yeah, me! Omega, get over here right now or I'll command you.”

You stare at him. He waves a piece of paper. “You're the alpha who bought me?” “Damn straight, sugar plum!” Sugar plum?! Your name is on the paper!

“Actually,” you begin but he interrupts you. “We can talk in the car, come on now!” Displeased, you walk over.

The inside looks barely used but it’s filled with his scent. It’s a delicious perfume that smells like the woods after it's rained, an earthy clean smell with an undertone of burnt sugar that makes you think of creme brulee. Saliva pools in your mouth and you ignore it.

Your new alpha, who still hasn't introduced himself, steps on the gas and the car shoots down the road. “Where are we going?” “To my place, it’s not far!” At the speed he's driving, you're downtown within minutes, too focused on holding on to ask any other questions. He doesn't offer any more answers, either. Soon, you lose track of where you are, finding yourself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Elegant houses and high-rise buildings blend together unnaturally. He parks in an underground garage, and the elevator ascends to the tenth floor. Everything looks new and untouched almost. You've never been in such a place before.

Inside the door, you stop and stare. The apartment you used to live in was a perfectly adequate size, but this is ridiculous. On top of that everything is spotless and sleek. Sure, his scent is present in the apartment, but otherwise it looks like no one lives in it, very similar to the car. Your new alpha seems to be very neat.

You look down at yourself. It's been a while since you had the opportunity to wash your clothes properly. The bag in your hand with your few belongings has seen better days. The alpha struts into the apartment, not noticing you've stopped. You don't have socks on so you don't want to take off your shoes.

Frozen in place you can't decide what to do. Everything is just too much. But you're still at the front door, if you turn around you can run and go back to what you know. It would be easier in a way. He doesn't know you. He has a name but it won't get him anywhere.

Steps coming towards you snap you out of it and you meet the eyes of the alpha. They are calm and blue. The urge to run settles and you notice he has a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“You'll have to borrow some of my stuff until we've washed yours and gotten you more clothes. Bathroom is this way,” he jerks his head and turns around. This time you follow.

The bathroom has everything one could wish for and you look longingly at the tub. How long ago was it that you had a real bath? The alpha puts the bundle down on top of a basket and then shows you where to find towels and what all the different dials in the shower do. You nod, trying to keep up.

Then he turns and heads out but before he shuts the door you blurt out, “Wait! What's your name?”

He turns around and grins at you in a way that is both creepy and at the same time not unpleasant. “It's Lloyd Hansen, sugar plum.”

next

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Rating: E Characters: Portgas D. Ace, Fushichou Marco, Izou, Thatch, Reader Warnings: Temperature Play, BDSM undertones, Wax Play Series: Kanon's Kinktober '24 Do not interact with this post if you are under the age of 18; the following material is intended for mature audiences only.

Summary:

“You’re killin’ me,” Ace murmured, reaching out to smooth his fingers down your spine. You gasped at the trail of heat they left in their wake, your movements stilling. “Eh? Você gostou disso?” He questioned, his head tilting, watching as you quickly struggled to tug your pants off the rest of the way. Bingo. “I don’t know why you decided to do this new fancy trick with your hands-” “It’s not just my hands.”

Notes:

HAPPY FIRST WEEK OF KINKTOBER. Some fun notes: -I'll be posting one fic for the next 4 weeks for Kinktober; my work schedule doesn't give me the free time to do a fic for every single day, so I decided one a week, posted on every Wednesday, with a bonus one on Halloween itself. -Each fic will be tagged appropriately, I'll even include a rundown of what to expect here in the notes. -First up is Ace, with Temperature Play ( Devil Fruits Are Fun! ) + Wax Play, with a fem!Reader. There isn't anything too crazy in here, just Ace being a little possessive and absolutely drunk on the reader. Also, Ace does use Brazilian Portuguese in this fic. c: As always: PLEASE PRACTICE SAFE, SANE, CONSENSUAL SEX. THIS IS LOWKEY BDSM MATERIAL. You should always have a system in place to check in with your partner when partaking in more intense scenes, and multiple ways to communicate if you can't speak for some reason- as well as a hard stop Safe word. Neither are used in this fic, but it is discussed in the fic, just in case. PLEASE use candles that are created specifically for wax play ( low burning candles ) if you want to safely try out wax play. Also, always be careful when using fire to not burn yourself, your hair, or anything around you. There are candles you can buy for this. The wax doesn’t heat up to such a high degree. Also, don't be silly, wrap your willy. <3

It was a rare treat to find the Moby Dick and fleet docking at an island for longer than a few hours for a restock run. The latest storm that was churning up the oceans in their pathway had made it too dangerous to even consider taking the whole fleet through. Ace didn’t mind, really; it meant more time to spend with the holder of his attention, the object of his affection. His gaze followed you across the tavern as you laughed with Thatch and Izou. His jaw worked slowly as Izou reached over, tucking a strand of her hair back from your face. Izou wasn’t interested in you, he knew that; Izou had his eyes on someone across the ocean from them.

Still, some part of him- some deeper part that he almost loathed- burned with the urge to make it clear to everyone just who you belonged to.

You was his, and his alone.

“You look ready to burn a hole through the wall,” Marco chimed in as he plopped down beside Ace, his gaze tracking Ace’s own. Ah, the little deckhand. “Got rooms for everyone, yoi. Go.” He waved a hand, and that was all Ace needed to hear as he rose from his seat, leaving a few berry behind for the flagon of ale that he hadn’t even touched- which Marco was greedily reaching for, his own gaze shifting to follow a pair of long legs.

“Ah, speak of the devil!” Izou greeted Ace as he approached, a brow raising as he took in the expression on his face. “I think your free time is over, dear.” He hummed, looking over to Thatch, who snickered into his ale.

You sighed as she leaned back in her chair, gaze flickering up to meet Ace’s in faux innocence. You knew just what had gotten him so worked up- you. Your antics from that morning, getting him all riled up before leaving to go attend to your duties, leaving him high and dry. A shame, really; it had left you aching for more, with this odd sort of anticipation that lingered beneath your skin. “Marco got us all rooms.” You informed Ace, watching as his gaze narrowed slightly. He hadn’t even spoken, yet. Oh, you were in for it.

“Have you eaten?” He asked finally, his hand smoothing over the back of your neck. The touch sent shivers down your spine despite how warm his palm was.

“Mhm,” you answered, bobbing your head. “Guess it is getting late, huh?”

“Don’t break her too hard, Pops wants us out by daybreak.” Izou warned, watching as Ace’s eyes widened, as his cheeks colored. Ah, that cool facade broke far too easily.

“I-I’m not- shut up!” He hissed, ducking his head as his hand dropped from your neck, only to be grabbed by your own hand, fingers lacing as you rose from your seat.

You reached over, stealing one more roll before winking at Izou and Thatch. “See you two in the morning.” Ace sighed with silent relief behind you as you led the way out of the tavern and down the hall. You glanced down at the key Ace was carrying, catching sight of the ruby numbers: 13. The last room in the hall, how nice.

He reached past you, sliding the key into the latch, unlocking the door with a soft ‘click’. You pushed the door open, eager to both be alone with Ace, and to have an actual bed rather than a hammock. As soon as the door closed, his hands were gripping your hips, pulling you back against him. “I’ve wanted you literally all day,” he murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Do you know how hard I’ve been?”

“If an erection lasts longer than four hours-”

“I’ll bite you.”

“Do it. I’ll like it.” The teasing was normal, easing both of you into more of a relaxed state as you turned in his grasp. Your arms reached up, winding around his shoulders as you bumped your nose against his own. “You showered,” you whispered, fingers toying with the soft curls at the base of his skull.

“‘S nice to be clean,” his hands squeezed your hips gently, thumbs sliding beneath the hem of your shirt. “I got a question for you, baby.”

His hands were still warm. Oddly so; it wasn’t abnormal for Ace to get heated- literally- when you two were together. But something felt different here. It made your heart begin to slowly speed up behind your ribcage, had you pulling your head back to meet those gorgeous brown eyes of his. “Talk to me, love.”

His cheeks were rosy, his gaze unable to meet your own as he looked to the side. Despite the bravado, he would get shy with you. You were his weakness. “You mentioned an idea the other night that’s been on my mind.”

Your brows furrowed. What had you… Oh! “The candles?” You asked, reaching up to carefully pluck his hat from his head. Your fingers returned to his hair, slowly working through the slightly damp tresses. “Did you wanna try it on me, Ace?” You asked, voice soft- low. Your nails gently brushed against his scalp, watching as his eyes fell shut, as a shudder worked its way through him. “I wouldn’t mind it. I think it could even be pleasurable.”

He groaned softly, his head dropping, chin resting on your shoulder as he simply held you close for a moment. “You’re gonna torment me, huh?” He mused with a soft chuckle, turning his head to press a kiss to your throat. His eyes were heavy; he was tired, but not from exhaustion. The damned narcolepsy… “Strip.” Ace whispered, his lips trailing up towards your jawline. “All the way down,” a kiss to the corner of your lips, “like a good girl.” He finished with a proper kiss to your lips, one of his hands raising to cup your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss.

You were weak for him, and Gods, he knew it.

You didn’t whine, didn’t pout as he pulled back, a cocky grin pulling at his lips as he sat down on the edge of the bed, eager to watch you disrobe. Cheekily, you turned away from him, your fingers grasping the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it to reveal your back. Shirt tossed aside, you leaned down, unlacing your shoes slowly while Ace admired the view of your rear. Boots unlaced, you toed one off, then the other, followed by your socks. Slowly straightening back up, your arms raised high above your head, stretching. The movement allowed Ace the grace of seeing the subtle swell of your breasts- and the hint alone got a soft groan from him. “Merda,” he sighed, shaking his head. Your hands smoothed over your sides as you continued your little show, fingers hooking in the waistband of your pants. Slowly- as slowly as you could manage, you lowered your pants down your thighs, over your knees, down to your calves before bending over-

“You’re killin’ me,” Ace murmured, reaching out to smooth his fingers down your spine. You gasped at the trail of heat they left in their wake, your movements stilling. “Eh? Você gostou disso?” He questioned, his head tilting, watching as you quickly struggled to tug your pants off the rest of the way. Bingo.

“I don’t know why you decided to do this new fancy trick with your hands-”

“It’s not just my hands.”

Your eyes widened as you turned around, facing him with blown pupils. “... Fuck.” You whispered, taking in the gorgeous sight in front of you- much the way he was also admiring the view of your nearly nude form. While you’d been giving him a show, he’d stripped down completely. The tan line from his shorts was always comical, but you weren’t focused on that. No- sweet Poseidon, he was already half hard.

“Trying to,” he reached over, hooking his fingers under the side of your panties, tugging you closer by it. “Gotta enjoy this meal in front of me first before I do anything else, though.”

“Ace-” You gasped, cheeks flushing at his eagerness, a hand raising to cover your mouth as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin beneath your naval.

His lips worked down, teeth scraping against the sensitive, soft skin before hooking in the hem of your panties. Wordlessly, he sank to his knees, tugging the fabric down with him. You knew the rules, now- hold on, and don’t let go until he was done with drinking his fill. Your panties fell around your ankles, and he did help you step out of them- just so that he could have you raise one leg up, settling it over his shoulder. You had nothing to brace against except for Ace, but he liked it that way.

The first press of his lips against your folds was gentle, an almost loving kiss pressed to such an intimate, sensitive space. Your fingers wove through his hair with one hand, the other reaching down to grasp his shoulder as his tongue smoothed through your folds, parting them for the near burning touch of tongue to sensitive clit. “Ace!” You gasped in surprise, nearly jumping back before his arm looped around your other leg, holding you in place.

And here you were, thinking that the ice you’d used a few weeks back had been a shock to the system. Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his abnormally warmed tongue lapping at your pussy like a man starved. He moaned against you at your taste, fingers squeezing the back of your thigh in appreciation. His nose brushed against your clit from this angle, each movement of his head giving you sparks of pleasure. His tongue lapped at your weeping center, drinking what you offered him. Your head tilted back, hips slowly grinding against his tongue, his nose, his lips, taking the pleasure he was greedily offering you.

You could stay like this for hours, with his head between your thighs, desperately licking at your core, at your swollen clit, gasping and moaning his name- and you had, multiple times. But something told you Ace had other ideas- and you weren’t ready to cum, not yet. Not that your legs would hold you up if you did, anyway. “Ace,” you panted, jolting with each hot swipe of his tongue across your clit. You glanced down- and good Gods above and below, that was a mistake. His hair was a wavy mess from your fingers running through it, tangling it. He was looking up at you, gaze lidded and afire, his cheeks rosy and as he pulled back for a moment, his chin and mouth glistened. “Holy shit.” you couldn’t help but whisper as he grinned, pupils blown so wide, they swallowed the chocolate of his gaze. “Baby- not yet, please.”

It almost pained him to pull back- but he did, only after placing a teasing kiss to your clit. “Lay down on your back.” He murmured, gently lowering your leg from his shoulder. He watched you stumble, reached out to grab you around the waist and tug you closer. “Careful, meu bebê.” He chuckled, grinning as you regained your balance. “Can’t have you falling. Unless it’s in love-”

“Your dick is within squeezing distance, Portgas.”

“Point taken.” Still grinning that mischievous grin, he released you, watching as you fell onto the bed. His gaze raked across your form, drinking down his fill. Shaking his head with a soft whistle he turned to the room. “Let’s see if I can do this.”

“Do what?” You asked, watching him curiously as he wiggled his fingers. The fire is him, and he is the fire- that’s what he had told you when you first started getting to know one another. You knew a fair amount about Devil Fruits, the different variations between nature based ones, animal based ones, and the weird ones that don’t fall into either category. Ace had insane control over his, could create a wildfire with a flick of the wrist. And now- now, with a wave of his hands, the candles throughout the bedroom flickered to life, their wicks catching flame with such ease. You gasped in awe as the golden glow of the candles bathed the room, as Ace looked at you over his shoulder with that damned smug smirk.

“That.” He answered, settling down onto the bed beside you. “Now- let’s lay out a few ground rules, yeah?” He reached over, brushing his knuckles against the apple of your cheek. “What’s the safe word?”

You thought for a moment. Something easy to remember, but not something you would just casually bring up in conversation. “Peppermint.” You decided, nodding. “And the basic color system. Green for keep going, yellow for a break, red to stop.”

“And if you can’t talk for some reason?” Fingers warmed by unseen flames traced your collar bones, dipped down to brush over the swell of your breast.

A shaky breath drawn in, you answered, “One tap for okay, two taps for slow down, three to stop.”

“Good girl.” He leaned over, capturing your lips in an eager, heated kiss. His tongue ghosted against your bottom lip before he pulled away, teasing. “You ready?”

You were nearly shaking with excitement as you nodded. He leaned over, grabbing one of the pillar candles from the side table. Easing back up onto his knees, you are gifted with a near godly sight. Ace, kneeling above you, his cock hard and the tip weeping- but even further up, the way the light from the candle bathed him in gold. He looked like a God.

Sometimes, you wondered if he was a God in mortal skin.

You watched as the flame flickered, the candle tilting slowly over before wax dribbled out- and onto the skin of your hand. “Too hot?” He asked; a test, you realized. Smart. You shook your head ‘no’, and he hummed. “Good.” The next drops landed on the tops of your breasts, making you gasp loudly in surprise. The sensation was sharp, the feeling almost painful at first before the wax began to cool on your skin. You drew in a deep breath, nodding.

And so, the game began.

Slowly, Ace dribbled wax across both of your breasts, until you were a squirming, whining mess. “I bet you’re even wetter now, huh?” He mused, head tilting slightly as he let wax build up one more in the candle’s hollowed out center. A part of him considered helping speed the process along- but that could make the wax too hot, and he’d like to avoid causing you actual harm. The candle tilted, and he watched the wax dribble down the center of your sternum, down over your tummy. You hissed as it got close to your naval, but he skipped down- and for a brief moment, you both wondered what would happen if it dripped further south.

He very carefully did not spill any, there.

No, instead, he moved it to your thighs, letting the wax spill over and drip down the insides of your thighs as you hissed and squirmed, moaning with the sharp form of pleasure the wax was offering you. “Ace,” you whined, legs spreading wider as he painted your sensitive inner thighs with wax. “Ace, please.”

“Please, what?” He asked, reaching down to cup your core, his palm heated up, mimicking the warmth that the wax offered. You shuddered at the feeling; your words failing you as his fingers parted you, brushing against your nub in slow, deliberate circles. “Words, Amoreco.” A soft tap- it couldn’t even be considered a slap, not with how gentle it was- was delivered to your core, making you jolt from the feeling.

You met his gaze, your own hazy. “Fuck me,” you whispered- and that was all it took for Portgas D. Ace to break. He leaned over, setting the candle on the floor away from the bed before sitting back up. You hummed, arms open as he slid into your embrace, his fingers seeking out the foil packet he’d placed on the bedside table preemptively. Just in case.

You never know.

A hiss escaped him as you rolled the condom onto his weeping cock, your touch like heaven for him in that moment. “Lube?” He whispered against the column of your throat. You huffed, reaching over for the small bottle as his fingers toyed with your entrance, teasingly dipping in before pulling out, feeling how wet you had become due to the toying. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” his words held no small amount of awe as you reached between the two of you, dribbling the lube onto his cock. He let out a noise not quite a hiss, not quite a yelp at the temperature difference that sent you into a giggle fit.

“Oops,” you snickered, feeling him pout against your throat. Your amusement was short lived as Ace lined himself up, the fat head of his cock slowly pushing in. The stretch was something you never got used to, your breath escaping with a soft, “Oh, yes,” as he sank in inch by glorious inch. Once he’d bottomed out, you both lay there for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being filled and filling you.

Until you could feel Ace physically growing warmer- all over. He grinned in a rather feral way against your throat as his hips pulled back, only to slowly roll back into you, making you feel every inch that sank in. A wordless moan pulled free from your lips as he kept the torturously slow pace, his heat sinking into your skin- inside and out. “You feel so good,” he whispered, biting down on your shoulder gently. He was holding back.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Your hands shifted from their position at his shoulders to smooth down his back- before you adjusted your hold, your nails raking down his back, leaving red lines in their wake. “Ace,” you purred, rolling your hips to meet his stuttering ones, “Puedes follarme mejor que eso.” The resulting groan and shudder was your answer. Ace liked being close when you two were together, but this required him pushing up, sitting up on his knees to gaze down at you. You moaned at the subtle change within, the head rubbing against that one damned spot that promised to make you see stars.

“Brat,” he muttered, his hands settling on your hips- holding you down as he pulled out. The next thrust in felt like a punch, your breath leaving you in a half-yell as he set a punishing pace. His hands felt like brands on your hips, and you almost hoped that they would leave a mark in his wake. You couldn’t speak, not with how he was moving, your mind stalling. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ well, look at that.” He groaned, reaching between the two of you to press his fingers against your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Who’s this pussy belong to?”

“You!”

“Say it again, couldn’t hear you.” He leaned down, tongue laving over one of your nipples, leaving an almost burning trail in it’s wake. “Who’s fuckin’ pussy is this?”

“Ace!” You sobbed, feeling your impending orgasm rapidly build- faster than you’d ever experienced. “My pussy is yours!”

Ace groaned, his lips circling a nipple as you wailed, the waves of your orgasm crashing over you. He grinned around your nipple as you shook, your walls clenching around him rhythmically. He didn’t slow his pace, groaning against your bust as he began to chase his own release. “Baby-” he moaned, brows pitching as he felt his balls drawing up, as that thread threatened to snap. Your hands grasped his face, tugged him up to capture him in a kiss- and oh, how he snapped. His hips stilled, buried to the hilt within you, as he moaned into the kiss.

Music to your ears.

His forehead pressed to your as you both panted, catching your breath. “That… Was amazing,” he laughed breathlessly, pecking your lips, the tip of your nose, your cheeks. You hummed in agreement, bone weary after everything. Ace slowly- carefully- pulled out of you, quickly discarding the used condom to the trash. He was tired, too- but before he could sleep, he needed to tend to you. He stepped into the bathroom for a moment, wetting down a wash rag with warmed water. He kept the rag warm in his hands as he returned, settling down beside you. “How are you feeling?” He asked softly, reaching over to cup your cheek, directing your gaze to meet his.

“Good,” you replied softly, blinking lazily. “Tired.”

He nodded in agreement, chuckling. Slowly, he cleaned off the wax bits from you, using his palms to heat them up to clean them off easier rather than simply peeling them off bit by bit. Red whelps lay in their wake, each one soothed by the gentle caress of the rag. By the end of it, you were clean and warm and freckled with the evidence of your coupling.

You brushed your fingers over one of the groups of whelps on your stomach as Ace joined you back in bed, curling against your side. “I like it,” you murmured as his head tucked into the crook of your neck, his arms winding around your middle. “The cleanup is more tedious than ice is, but I like it.” Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. He was already half asleep, legs tangling with your legs.

“‘M glad,” Ace mumbled, his breathing beginning to deepen. It was a miracle he hadn’t fallen asleep before now. You smiled, enjoying the warmth he offered you as sleep took him away. Love wasn’t something either of you mentioned; the topic was a difficult one for him to speak about. But it showed in other ways- like him taking the time to clean you up meticulously, how he wrapped himself around you when he slept. How his fingers still sought out one of your hands, even when holding you now. No, love wasn’t something you said out loud-

But with Ace, actions would always speak louder than words.

[ghosty-writes-23]

Take Me Home To My Heart. - Ada Wong.

!TAGS!: Lesbian relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, NSFW Content, Sub!Ada, Dom!Fem!Reader, Rough, !CONSENT IS KEY!, Body worship, Fingering, Eating out, Choking, Doggy style, Strap on, Hair pulling, Aftercare.

Pairing: Sub!Girlfriend!Ada + Dom!Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “Just Be A Good Girl, I Know You Can Take It.” Just when you thought your loving girlfriend Ada wasn't going to make it home for Valentines day, she surprises and you by coming home a few hours before midnight and you both spend the last remaining hours lost in each other in the heat of passion and even a little romance.

Word Count: 3.3k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, I decided I wanted to publish something for Valentines Day but of course I get sick at the same time, so I thought it would be a smart idea to write 2 one-shots while I had the energy to do nothing, so I am sorry if these feel rushed or a poorly edited, I wrote these in 1 day and slept for the rest, once I am feeling better I will be working on a P.t 2 of his Precious Dollface for next month crossing my fingers and I hope you enjoy these two holiday themed one-shots about our favourite Agent and Super spy.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

Leon's Version.

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18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Sitting in your apartment living resting on the couch, you were alone with a glass half full of red wine, a spicy enemies to lovers novel in your lap but you had lost interest in it as you glanced at the small clock on the couch side table. Today was valentine's day and your love was away on a mission fighting god knows what but that didn't stop the sad sigh that left your lips as you felt a slight clench around your heart. 

When you saw all your friends posting online about there special valentines dates with their significant other, It made you want her to selfishly come home and spend valentine's day with you but that wasn’t possible, you weren't even sure if she was in the country at the moment, You understood her job and that there were times you wouldn’t see her for months on end, but there still doesn’t make the pain in your chest go away. 

Taking a sip out of your wine glass you place it back on the table as you placed your bookmark in your book before closing it then placing it on the table, you glanced up at the TV seeing a random show playing you had put it on so it wasn’t completely silent.

Grabbing the remote you decided to flick off the TV and head up to yours and Ada’s shared bedroom to try and get some sleep, lately you hadn’t been sleeping well getting off the couch you started walking upstairs when you heard what sounded like the front door unlocking as soon as the front door opened your feeling as if it was beating out of your chest. 

Ada walked through the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, she was holding what looked like a small bag and a bottle of something, she looked exhausted but she gave you a small smile you could see the tension melt from her body as her eyes met yours, closing the front door behind her and placed her things on the small table beside the door.

“Your home.” you say softly as you were slightly shocked but over the moon that she was home alive and safe, soon you found yourself running over to her and hugging her tightly, you heard a soft noise leave her lips at the impact your body hit hers but she wrapped her arms around you just as quickly.

"I’m home.” she softly repeated what you said as she gave the top of your head a kiss, you pull away slightly and go on your tippy toes and softly kiss her lips were soft and warm against yours, you could taste her sweet lip balm and the scent of her perfume filling your senses making you feel truly relaxed to finally have your love home.

“I have a gift for you?” Ada says making you look at her with a raised eyebrow, moving away slightly she handed you a small bag, inside was a small box, opening the small box was 2 lockets with your favourite picture of you both and both your initials engraved on the back.

“When did you have time to do this?” you asked as you admired the piece of jewelry. “I got it done just before my last mission, I was going to give it to you then but I got called away early.” Ada says with a sad look on her face but you smiled up at her as you took one of the lockets out from the box. 

“This is so thoughtful.” you say looking up at your girlfriend who had a slight blush on her cheeks, they looked expensive and good quality. “So you can have a piece of me while I'm away on missions.” Ada says as she places a kiss on the top of your head then she grabs the locket from your hand and moves your hair before she clips it around your neck, the locket falling to the middle of your breasts. 

“I love you.” you heard her mumble as she placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, then another just under your ear. “I love you too princess, now why don’t we go upstairs and celebrate what little time we have left of valentines day?” you suggested as you felt her nibbling on your neck, causing you to giggle softly at the feeling, once she nodded her head and laced her fingers with yours you grabbed the bottle she had brought and led her upstairs to your guys shared bedroom. 

As you both walked up the stairs you both were locked in a heated and passionate kiss, your arms around her neck and legs around her waist she held you up by your thighs as she walked up the stairs and into your shared bedroom, once inside your bedroom she laid you on the big comfortable bed breaking the kiss you both were breathing heavily and there was a blush on both of your cheeks.

“Are you the dom tonight?” you asked in a teasing tone there was a sly grin on your face as well, it was a rare sight to see Ada wanting to take control in the bedroom. Usually she was your pillow princess, but it seemed a switch had flipped in her tonight. 

Ada nodded her head as her gloved hand went under your shirt, the cold leather causing a shiver to run through your body before she tugged your shirt up to where it was just covering your eyes like a blindfold, leaving you in just your panties since you didn’t feel like wearing a bra tonight, the air was slightly chilly but your body felt hot as all your other senses were heightened due to your sight being taken away. You felt Ada’s lips on your neck causing a soft noise to leave your lips as she started to trail kisses and soft nibbles down your neck to your chest. 

Her kisses were soft and gentle, almost teasing with how feather light they were as they travelled down your stomach to the top of your panties, your breathing had picked up slightly you wanted to touch her but you couldn’t as your t-shirt kept your arms in place above your head, but if you had to guess Ada had a smirk on her face. Her gloved hands made their way up your sides before she softly pinched your nipples causing a soft moan to leave your lips at the slight painful pleasure.

“You're teasing me.” you say as you found your hands softly gripping the pillow behind you so desperately wanted to see her you could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, soon there was the sound of material tearing and before you could ask Ada what was that, you felt her warm tongue on your heat collecting your slick and causing a soft whine to leave your lips as you bucked your hips. 

“Shit.” you cursed softly when you felt her roughly gripped your thighs, her gloved fingers digging in possibly leaving bruises but you didn’t care, she feasted on you as if you were her last meal her soft groans as she pulled you closer by your thighs, her tongue circling your clit before she softy sucked, you so desperately wanted to see her face you wanted to see the blush on her cheeks, the glossy and hazy in her eyes as her tongue was buried inside of you wanted to see her bruised lips. 

“Wanna see you.” you were able to breathe out in between your moans, you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, soon your t-shirt was fully removed from you and you took in Ada’s appearance. Her inky black hair slightly messy with some stuck to her forehead, her lips were bruised slightly but wet with your slick, her eyes holding the look of lust but warmth causing your heart to skip a beat and your pussy to clench around nothing.

“Happy?” she asked as she bites one end of her gloved fingertips and pulls the glove off with her teeth before you felt two of her fingers run up and down your slit collecting your slick, You nodded your head finally being able to see your girlfriend.

She grinned at you before you felt her two fingers sink onto your gummy walls causing you to bite down on your bottom lip, she always knew where your sweet spots were as she curled her fingers causing your toes to curl slightly. “So wet princess.” Ada says with a teasing tone but all you could do was nod your head, it felt different being the bottom or the sub this time but it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” Ada asked as she placed a soft kiss on your cheek as if she was trying to be sweet while her fingers were skillfully knuckles deep in your pussy. 

“Yes, but it wasn’t the same, I couldn't finish.” you say bucking your hips slightly when her thumb started to rub your clit, you were close and she knew it you heard her softly chuckle as she kissed your neck no doubt leaving little love bites. “Couldn’t you come without me, your precious little princess.” she teases and you would have rolled your eyes at her comment if she didn't make you feel so good, she was being a brat and she knew it.

“Watch it sweetheart.” you warned her but you felt your eyes roll back when he curled her finger hitting your sweet spot more. “What are you going to do about it?” she grinned before she felt her gently nibbled on your ear, this was the final straw and you felt yourself cumming on her fingers. 

Once you finally got your breathing under control you knew what you needed to do, reaching over you carefully grabbed Ada by the back of the neck and kissed her deeply, you could taste yourself on her lips but that was the least of your worries, right now you needed to tam your little brat, softly biting her bottom lip you heard her softly moan she make act all bratty and naughty but deep down you knew she just wanted to be your good girl, breaking the kiss you trailed your lips up to her ear before softly biting the shell of it. 

“Go grab the box from the cupboard.” you whisper into her ear, as she got off the bed you decided to clean yourself and the bed up, soon Ada came back with the box and you couldn’t help but smirk because you knew what was in that box.

“Strip.” you asked, taking the box from her and placing it on the bed, there was a slight blush on her cheeks but she nodded her head and started to strip, you admired her body with all its curves and scars. To you she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen and sometimes you felt as if you didn’t deserve her. When her red dress hit the floor you walked over to her and gently cupped her face before kissing her softly, you felt her melt against you as soft noise left her lips. 

When you pulled away a soft whine left her lips making you chuckle softly before you turned her around so she was facing the bed. “Since my princess is being a brat, i guess i have to make her my good girl now.” you say before you gently pushed her onto the bed she made a soft noise when she wet the bed before she turned her head and looked at you, passion, lust and love swimming in her dark eyes, she wanted this and you knew it. Opening the box you grabbed the strap on and the small bottle of lube, you didn’t want to hurt your girlfriend. 

You stepped into the harness and strapped it around your waist and thighs, it was Ada’s favourite it was the perfect size and curve it always left her a mess, walking over to her you grabbed her by the hip and pulled her up so now she was on her hands and knees, glancing down you could see how wet she was it was partially running down her thighs kneeling down you placed a soft kiss on her back and trailed kisses down her body even giving her ass a little bite before you ran your tongue up her folds from the back. 

Her taste makes your eyes roll back slightly feasting on your girlfriend was your favourite thing to do, you could stay for hours in between her legs if she would let you, but she gets too embarrassed especially when she squirts but that's a story for a different day, after having a little taste you felt Ada wiggle her hips showing she needed something more, grabbing the bottle of lube you reluctantly pulled away licking your lips and applied a small blob of the clear liquid, she was wet almost soaking but you wanted to be extra careful not to hurt her even if she thinks she will be okay.

Standing up you moved behind her and gently tapped the plastic strap against her pussy, Ada looked over her shoulder at you, her eyes where dazed her lips bitting slightly raw, she looked fucked out already and you hadn’t even touched her, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder you slowly slid in her a soft moan leaving her lips as she gripped the pillow underneath her, it had been a while since the last time you to where this intimate. 

“Are you ok?” you asked wanting to make sure she was ok, you placed gentle kisses around her neck and shoulder as you waited for her to adjust to the size, you could hear her take a few breaths before she nodded her head and gave you a small kind smile. “I’m ok you can move now.” she says giving you the greenlight, smiling you softly began to move your hips in small movements as you softly bit into the soft flesh of her neck causing whine like moans to leave her lips.

Once you knew she was comfortable, you thought this would be a good time to get some payback for her being a brat, you moved and gripped her hips and started to move your own hips quicker causing your thrusts to do deeper, this caused her moans to become louder as she gripped the pillows beneath her.

“Are you my brat or my good girl?” you asked as you thrust into her quickly your hands finding their way to her soft ink black hair and tugging on it slightly, when you didn’t get an answer you stopped your movements causing Ada to whine softly and begin moving her own hips, but you spanked her ass causing a hiss through her teeth. 

“I expect an answer princess, are you my brat or my good girl?” you asked in her ear before you softly bit her earlobe, you heard her suck in a breath when you trailed your hand around her neck and gave a soft squeeze. “I’m your good girl.” she says as you swear you could see hearts in her eyes showing you how fucked out she was, smiling softly you gave another squeeze ever so gently before you started moving your hips again, but this time you pulled her against your body, you could see a little bulge where the strap was in her stomach. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” you asked as you thrusted into her quickly and used your hand that wasn’t around her neck to rub her clit, you could see her eyes were rolling back and her moans were getting more high pitched. “Yes.” she choked out in between moans, her body was trembling. You could tell this was going to be a big one, moving so now she is laying flat on the bed, you used the last of your energy to get her to finish. 

“What do good girls ask when they want to cum?” you asked as you gripped the pillow just by her head, you could feel the burning in your thighs and your back, but you pushed those aside as you wanted to make your girlfriend feel good.

“Please can I cum?” she asks, looking as you desperately, sweat covered both your bodies and your hair stuck to your forehead, using the hand that was around her neck you used it to angle her head so you could kiss her. “Cum.” was all you said before kissing her, you swallowed her moans as you felt her body tremble as she came undone in your hands. 

Once her trembling started to calm down you gently pulled away and rested your forehead on hers a grin on both of your lips. “Happy Valentine's Day princess.” you say as you move some hair out of her face, she nuzzled into her hand breathing heavily. “Happy Valentine's Day.” Ada says with a gentle smile as she leaned forward and kissed you again.

Half An Hour Later

You and Ada laid together in your bathtub as you finally cleaned up after a couple more rounds, both of you were sore and tried but so glad to finally have each other back, the tub was decorated with candles and rose petals every on brand for the day, placing a gentle kiss on Ada’s shoulder you heard her hum softly as she sipped on a glass of the champagne she had brought for you both.

“I almost forgot your valentine's day gift.” you say when you remembered about the small box in your bedside table draw, moving out the tub you heard Ada whine as you tied your bath robe around yourself and softly kissed her head as she stayed in the tub.

Going back into your shared bedroom you grabbed the small box and took a deep breath, this could either go really good or really bad you were hoping for the first option, walking back into the bathroom you noticed Ada was resting against the side of the table, a dopey smile on her face that you rarely get to see only when she is really relaxed and comfortable, her ears perked up when she heard you enter the room with a small box in your hand. 

“I have something I want to ask you?” you say trying to hide the nerves in your voice, you didn’t know why you felt nerves it felt right you and her together forever but that still didn’t help the nerves, you saw Ada nod her head and slowly you kneeled down on one knee and opened the small box which contained a small diamond ring you knew she had been eyeing when you went out shopping together, you even got it custom sized and engraved.

“Will you marry me?” you asked her feeling as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, you could see Ada thinking about it. “Are you sure you want to be with somebody like me?” you heard her ask her voice was quiet and small not what you were expecting, reaching up you gently placed a hand on her cheek.

“I couldn’t picture my life with anybody else, I want you Ada and only you.” you say to her and you could swear you saw tears in her arms before she hugged you tightly, the position was a little awkward but you didn’t care.

“So is that a yes.” you asked against her neck, she nodded her head as you pulled away slightly and took the ring out of the box, it had “Forever & Always’ engraved in the band of the ring. “Perfect fit.” she says, admiring the ring. “Just like us.” you say causing her to roll her eyes but her smile warms your heart, you made the right decision you wanted to be with Ada forever and always.

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 7: Rogue Desire

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The library is dim except for the oil lamp casting its snug ochre radiance, illuminating the page you’re reading. The window here is forever shuttered and draped to keep the sun off the assorted books and tomes, making you feel safe. Well, as safe as you can feel while sharing quarters with Astarion. Your fingers rub the harsh, bumpy surface of the book's old cover as your eyes feast on page after page.

“What are you reading?”

You close the book momentarily to let Astarion get a look at the cover.

“Ah,” he smiles, “I lent you that some time ago. Did I not?”

You nod, “I never got to finish it.”

Astarion lays on the lounge beside you, “Well, what do you think of it so far?”

You cock your brow at him, and your nose crinkles, “It doesn’t exactly strike me as the type of book you would read.” 

He laughs, “Why’s that?”

“It’s well written, and there are gory bits, but it seems to boil down to a love story, and I can’t imagine you reading romance.” 

“Do you think me incapable of romance, my dear? I was romancing people before you were alive.”

You smirk at him, “I’m positive you can feign romance exuberantly. I can’t imagine you being truly romantic, though.”

He waves dismissively, “What’s the difference? It’s all a show, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, but one has true feelings behind it, which makes it romantic. It’s not the “show,” as you say.”

He chuckles, “This is starting to sound an awful lot like a challenge, and I do love a good challenge.”

You frown, “I’m sure Elowyn would love a demonstration.” 

He scoffs, “You said there must be true feelings behind it.”

What does that mean?

Does he even feel anything anymore?

Questions you want to ask him but choose not to because you don’t want to know the answers. 

Astarion looks around the room, “Why do you read in here all the time? I thought you would be out in the courtyard, or at least in a room with a window. You used to love the sun,” he muses with a dreamy, faraway guise.

“I liked the sun. No one loves the sun more than you do." 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” his mouth twitches, “You and I used to watch the sunrise together often.”

“That was before,” you sigh at the memories, “This is now.”

He looks around anxiously while rubbing his hands together, “We could again if you wanted to.”

“I’m frightened that you will get angry with me, and in that rage, you’ll cease protecting me,” you retort bluntly.

His brows furrow with a resigned sigh, “Do you think you will ever trust me again?”

“Do you want me to?”

He sits upright and looks at you intensely, “Indeed, I do.”

Why? Why does it matter to him if I trust him or not?

Trust is a luxury I can’t afford.

“You have your work cut out for you then.”

He chuckles, “It’s a good thing we have an eternity ahead of us.”

Unless you kill me.

Biting your tongue, you swallow that retort. Astarion has been remarkably pleasant for several days and seems more himself than you can recall since he became the Vampire Ascendant. You’re not keen on upsetting him for something so silly and becoming reacquainted with the version of him that lurks in his ire.

“Why did you recommend the book to me?”

He glowers at you playfully, “I have no doubt you will figure it out sooner or later.”

So, there is a reason.

“You could just tell me,” you purr.

“Darling, where is the fun in that?”

Astarion stands and kisses the top of your head. Running his finger along the books, he picks one, “I will be reading in the courtyard, in the sun I love so much according to you, if you would like to join.”

You give him a curt nod, but once he’s left the room, a small smile meanders its way across your lips. Astarion having the ability to walk in the sun safely for the rest of his days after living centuries in the dark was one of the reasons you had helped him with the ritual. You didn’t want to be the one to damn him to an eternity of darkness as a spawn. As far as reasons go, you know it wasn’t a good one compared to the cost, but what’s done is done, and the reasons, good or bad, don’t matter now.

Letting your eyes roam the page of text, you try to distract yourself with the story, but your mind keeps drifting to Astarion, the courtyard, and the sun. Astarion asking if you could ever trust him again confuses you, and admitting he wants you to only mystifies you further.

Why does he want or care about my trust?

Could I ever trust him again?  

You’re surprised by how much you long to trust him again. There had been significant trust between you at one point, but that utter conviction got you to this spot. When Astarion had Cazador kneeling before him, he said he knew what he was doing and asked you to trust him, and you did so blindly. Thus, assisting in turning him into whatever it is he is now.

I should have known better.

Closing your book, you descend the staircase on shaky legs. The mere thought of going and sitting in the sun still strikes terror into you. You’re still adjusting to having windows again. More than once, Astarion has caught you attempting to slink past the window, staying out of the sun as much as possible, or just standing there staring at it apprehensively.

He would giggle at you and make his silly, taunting quips, but he would also comfort you and tell you that you were safe with him, at least when it came to the sun.

As long as he’s not angry.

The door to the courtyard is open, and the bright mid-morning sun washes over the dark wooden flooring. Astarion sits on a bench bathed in the golden light, eyes down, skimming the page of the tome. He looks at ease and happy, and you can’t help but smile to yourself and cherish that view. Glancing at the rays warming the floor, you swallow your growing doubt.

Trust has to start somewhere. He will have no chance if I never give him one.

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” he coos without looking up from the page.

“Promise?”

Astarion stands, puts the book down and comes to the doorway with a tender smile, holding his hand out to you, “I promise. Come.”

Biting your lower lip, you slide your hand into his. Astarion coercers your body to move forward out into the courtyard with gentle force. Paving stones warm your bare feet as they pad along the ground, and the sun’s heat permeates your cold skin.

This is the first time you’ve seen this place in daylight, and it looks substantially less foreboding. At night, the courtyard’s high stone walls cause it to appear small and closed off. In this light, it seems open and pleasant.

A well-groomed tree towers off in one corner, providing some shade. The green leaves flutter in the slight breeze. Another bench sits under the willowy branches.

Astarion gently twists your arm, forcing you to pirouette as if you were dancing an elegant courtly dance, and you giggle at his playfulness.

He rests his forehead against yours, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Gods, he’s so close.

As it often does around him, your ability to be rational and keep yourself grounded slips at his proximity. You can hear his heart beating and smell the bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy you’ve come to love.

You’ve felt frozen inside, numb, for so long, but his touch reawakens your purpose and thaws the ice that has solidified your fiery spirit and kept it subdued in the void his absence left.

“I missed you, you know. When you left,” he whispers.

Tears threaten to spring to your eyes at the authentic vulnerability, and your hands grasp Astarion’s arms. Inhaling a long, shuddering breath, you attempt to regain the plummeting authority over your body.

Astarion holds your waist tenderly with the same firm protectiveness you remember. You keep trying to convince yourself the man you loved died that night, that Astarion is gone, but here he is, standing before you.

Is this him, though? I still don’t know.

Astarion uses his index finger to bring your eyes to the vivid scarlet of his, which are staring at you with a searing ardour. You’re paralyzed by that gaze, carried away by the deluge of instinct and longing coalescing.

“Can I kiss you, Astarion?”

He smirks, “Little love, I thought you would never ask.”

His lips meet yours, and your eyes flutter shut. Your body wilts into his as if drawn in by his gravitational pull. You let yourself drown in him. Your senses scatter, and you’re swept up in his undertow.

His tongue persuades your lips to part, and he skillfully traverses your mouth. You purposefully find one of his fangs, and you run it delicately over your tongue, causing a shallow wound that weeps blood. He growls as the taste of you detonates his hungering desire.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I love it when you do that."

You smile against his lips. You know it drives him crazy, and that’s precisely the point. You want to fill him with you; claim him as he has claimed you. You want him to be addicted to you so he can think of no one else.

Astarion bucks his hips into you, and you grind yourself against his hard length greedily. You clench at the delicious friction against your swelling flesh and whimper demandingly. A deep growl in his chest vibrates against you as his hand ravenously roams over the contours of your body.

You let your splayed hand coast from the taut muscles of his abdomen to his chest lazily, savouring his silky, soft skin on your fingertips. His chest heaves under your hand, and you can feel the rapid, excited thumping of his heart.

Astarion grabs your thighs and hauls you up. Reflexively, you wrap your legs around his hips, securing yourself to him.

“Perhaps we should take this indoors, yes?”

You giggle, “Astarion, are you shy? I thought you enjoyed being the centre of attention.”

He kisses your neck, “I plan to make you scream my name until your throat is hoarse. Would you like everyone to hear your wanton incoherent cries?”

Even though you’re more than accustomed to his alluring taunts, you still feel the heat rising to your face. Thankfully, you’re dead, and your skin can’t redden.

“And if I did? Perhaps they would learn something,” you tease flirtatiously.

He chuckles while putting you down once you’re safely hidden in the manor, “Darling, the prudes of the upper city would surely perish on the spot if they saw what I’m about to do to you.”

Gods, yes.

Your walls spasm and clench at the carnal depravity that courses through your thoughts in vivid splendour. You tug his shirt out of his breeches, and he pulls it off, anticipating your request. His fingers undo the ties of your shirt, and he slips it off. Those hooded red eyes brimming with lust consume the sight of you gluttonously.

“You’re perfect,” he purrs deeply.

Your chest swells and falls as you pant purposeless air. For so long, you’ve felt fear, loneliness, hunger or nothing at all, but right now, you’re high on the love and desire overflowing in you, and you refuse to give it up.

You throw yourself at him in desperation to keep this moment alive. His lips meet yours with the same dire need. Your fingers curl into the white curls at the nap of his neck while your other hand undoes the ties that keep his pants secured to his waist.

His thumb traces the lower curve of your breast, and you groan, feeling your nipple already harden in anticipation of his touch. His fingers graze the sensitive peak. Your body quivers, nerves humming as liquid lightning rolls down your spine, and your clit pulses in tempo with his teasing fingers.

“Needy thing, aren’t you? How long has it been since you’ve been touched, tasted?"

You were the last one to touch me.

This isn’t something you would like to admit to him. You don’t want him to know how hopelessly in love and devoted you are to him. Astarion knows love, and he knows how to play with it, and you don’t want to give him more ammunition to play with you like a toy.

Reaching into his pants, your fingers find them wet with pre-cum, and your mouth waters at the thought of tasting him again. You grasp his cock, and his hips jerk with a panting grunt.

“Needy thing, aren’t you,” you taunt mockingly.

His eyes narrow, hypnotizing and brimming with lust, “I know you’re skirting around the question, darling.”

Astarion’s fingers glide past your waistband and trail down in an anguishing slow progression that makes a whine slip from your lips. He parts your wet folds, skillfully avoiding the bundle of nerves that is howling for his touch.

“Hells,” he kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear, “I bet they didn’t make you this wet.”

You sag into him and sigh, “Astarion…”

He teases your swollen flesh, circling the aching border, “Did they make your body shake with need?”

The first direct touch sends a shockwave rocketing through you, and you whimper, knees buckling. You are forced to let go of your grasp on his cock and secure yourself by holding onto his arms. Astarion smirks proudly. The pads of his fingers stoke and massage, and you moan loudly. The coiling tension builds and intensifies as his tempo does.

A knock on the door startles you, and you try to jump away from him, but his arm wraps around your waist, holding you in a steadfast grip.

“Ignore it,” he barks, “we’re busy.”

Another hammering rap on the door makes Astarion growl in frustration. His brow pinches in a dark scowl.

A pleading voice muffled by the door arises, “Master Ancunin! Master Ancunin!”

Pulling away from him, your body mewls in dejected objection at the discontinuation of sensation, “I think it’s for you.”

He groans and grins seductively at you as he sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you choke in a quick breath.

“As sweet as ever, my dear. My memories did not do you justice.”

The banging on the door resounds through the manor again with the same pleading shrieks from outside. Astarion rolls his eyes while he does up the ties of his pants. Not bothering to put his shirt back on, he moves to answer the door. You take quick steps backward to remain out of sight of the visitor.

“What is it?” Astarion sneers.

“Master Ancunin. Please forgive my intrusion, but your presence is urgently required.”

“We are not set to convene until tomorrow night,” Astarion snarls with an intensely domineering inflection.

“I know, saer. I am dreadfully sorry about this violation. I throw myself at your mercy.”

Astarion sighs, “And what exactly is so urgent?”

The man’s voice hushes significantly, and you can only catch small snippets here and there, but not enough to put together what’s happening that seems to require Astarion’s attention immediately.

“WHAT?” Astarion thunders.

Despite the booming shout, the intonation in his voice is dispassionate and unexpressive. You slink further back, knowing that whatever he was told has provoked his rage.

“Go. I will be there momentarily,” he slams the door harshly, cursing under his breath, “Fuck!”

Glancing around the room, you try to find a place to hide from him. You could go back into the courtyard, but if he’s angry and he decides you’re an easy target to take it out on, he might just let you burn. The stairs to your room lay too far away and would mean crossing paths with him.

Astarion turns the corner and jumps as if surprised to see you there. His eyes meet your face, and you’re relieved the crimson pools remain warm with liquid affection.

He must see the terror illustrated on your face because he frowns sadly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re angry.”

He nods curtly, “Yes, but I am me, for now - you have nothing to fear.”

You gulp, “For now.”

Astarion runs his fingers through his hair. Whatever that man told him, it agitated him significantly.

He clears his throat, “I must go deal with this.”

He bounds up the stairs quickly to his room and must dress at a breakneck pace because he returns rapidly, fully dressed in his overelaborate coat, looking mouth-wateringly dashing.

Astarion heads for the door and tugs it open but hesitates, pivots and takes long strides toward you. Reflexively, you step back, frightened that the anger won.

Astarion kisses your forehead and the back of your hand, “I will try to be back for your lesson tonight.”

You nod, “It’s okay if you aren’t. Be careful, Astarion.”

He smiles, “As you wish, my love.”

Once Astarion is gone, you quickly run around and close all the heavy curtains, plummeting the manor into darkness. Sitting on the floor with your back against your bed, you close your eyes and reprimand yourself for letting things go so far.

Your role here is to try and figure out what’s ailing him and see if you can help him remedy it, not to continue getting closer to him, falling more in love with him.

If that’s even possible.

You wonder, though, if, by some miracle, you can find a way to conserve whatever remains of the old Astarion. Would you want to be with him then, or has the damage been done, and your relationship is doomed and wrecked beyond repair? Could you ever trust him again?

Gale is out looking for the Wish spell for you, but you ponder if you could use it to save Astarion from whatever evil plagues him. Could it be used to restore him to his previous self completely? Could it be used to turn back Ascension entirely? Would you do that to him even if it could?

Would I give up my one chance to be alive again if it meant restoring him?

You need to gather more information on what’s ailing Astarion. As well as the capabilities and limitations of the Wish spell, but you can’t tell Gale or Shadowheart that your motivations may have changed.

Where is Withers when I need him? He knew everything there was to know about souls.

You have a theory about what happens to Astarion, but it needs to be confirmed. You wonder if the Rite may have stripped away some of his soul, whether unintended or on purpose, and now the soulless part of him wars with the version that still retains the remaining bit of his soul, each contending against the other, vying for control.

You imagine the only way to figure this out is by talking to someone who deals in souls, but who? You’re still trying to work it all out.

With Astarion gone, you can finally let yourself get some much-needed rest. Laying down on your bed, you succumb quickly to your meditative state and slip into the tributary of your trance.

The walls of the Crimson Palace moan as they settle, cooling off after the hot sun beating down on them. You’ve been locked in your room all day, and those solemn whines are the only indicator you have of time.

The door to your bedroom snaps open, but you don’t even bother to look. You’re lying in bed motionless, staring at the ceiling of your pitch-black room as you have been doing since he locked you in here in the first place. Astarion keeps you corralled in here like an animal. You are not to leave without his approval, and if you do, the consequences are dire.

“My consort,” he drawls as he lights a candle.

“What do you want,” you say monotone.

“Get dressed, darling. I have need of you tonight.” 

“No, thank you.”

“This is not a request,” he sneers, “You will come.”

“What are you going to do? Drag me there?”

“Oh, pet, I will do so much worse.”

“I’m not going,” you mutter scornfully.

Astarion grabs you harshly by the arm and drags you down the hall to the kennels, “You do remember this room, yes? Do not make me put you in here, strap you to that device, and teach you why you will obey me.”

He drags you back to your room as you pull and fight him with everything you have, but he merely laughs at your pathetic attempts. He throws you onto your bed.

“Get dressed,” he commands, “Wear the blue one I have laid out for you. We are going to a party, my treasure.”

Your fingers linger over the silky blue material he laid out for you. The dress is glamorous, you suppose, but nothing you would ordinarily adorn. The gown is far too low in the front and back and leaves very little to the imagination.

Whatever he has planned for you tonight, you don’t want to know, but if you disobey, he will put you in the kennels, and you don’t want to visit that place again.

You pull the dress on. The neckline hangs down below your belly button, and the back is just as low. A long slit up one side allows a view of your leg. You cringe at the idea of wearing something like this in public.

Astarion returns promptly, dressed lavishly and looking far too handsome, “You look exquisite. This will do perfectly.”

Astarion escorts you to some overly sumptuous estate in the upper city. The ballroom is packed full of the city’s nobles and high-ranking officials.

“Remember to smile, pet. They need to believe we’re a happy couple."

You scoff at him, “I don’t care what they think.”

Astarion grabs your face harshly, “You WILL smile, or you will be punished. Do I make myself clear?”

You rip your face out of his hand and glower at him, “Fuck you.”

"Maybe if you’re a very good girl tonight, I will permit it.”

He introduces himself around the room, using his practiced manipulations to make connections, but he never introduces you unless someone pays you any attention, which they generally don’t. The only attention they pay is practically undressing you with their ogling eyes, and it makes your skin crawl.

Astarion directs you to a quiet side of the room, “Do you see that man in the maroon jacket?”

“What about him?”

Astarion grins sadistically, “I need you to go over there and distract him by any means necessary.”

You gasp, “Excuse me. What?”

He snickers, “You will distract him by any means necessary. Take him to a bed for all I care, as long as you get him out of the way.”

He wants me to do what?

“I will not!”

You yell it loud enough to gain the attention of some of the partygoers nearby, who give you awkward glances.

Astarion scowls at you, “That was very naughty, pet. Go now, do as I ask, and I will consider letting that little display slide.”

If I refuse, it’s the kennels.

You lean close to him and whisper, “If you try and make me do that, I’m going to make a big scene and embarrass you in front of all your new, very important friends.”

He leers at you threateningly, “Last chance.” 

I choose the kennels over my body offered in exchange for whatever he’s planning.

You scream, loud and resounding, “No!”

The high pitch of your voice echoes through the entire room, thanks in part to the absurdly high ceilings. The once loud laughter and voices cut off into an awkward, hushed silence as all eyes in the room snap to you and Astarion.

Astarion plays it off perfectly with a warm smile, “Of course, my love. If you do not wish to go, we won’t.”

He’s going to have to do damage control later.

Astarion grabs your hand and squeezes it so hard you whimper while he walks you out of that damn party with the excuse that you are not feeling well. He trembles with anger, and you know you’re in for it when he gets you back to the kennels.

Back in the safety of the Crimson Palace, you burn him slightly and try to run to your room, though you know it’s little use. He disperses into gas and appears in front of you before you can make it even halfway there.

He grabs you, screaming in your face, “You dreadful little wretch! Now, I am forced to have to teach you a lesson.”

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything!”

He laughs like someone deranged, “How else will you learn to obey?”

“I will never obey,” you spit hatefully.

“We will see about that, my unruly, little spawn.”

He drags you through the halls while you scream, cry and beg him to stop. Your sandals skid across the wooden floor, shrieking as your feet try to find purchase.

The kennels smell like fetid blood, and you cringe as the scent assaults your nostrils. Astarion chains you to the wall, so you have no choice but to stand while he strips you bare.

He laughs menacingly, “You will learn to obey me, my consort.”

Astarion’s crazed laughing resonates through the room as he blows out all the candles, submerging you in pure, inky darkness. The door closes, locks and you’re left in silence.

You know you could get yourself out of these chains, out of this room, but the consequences if you do would be far more dire than being left in this miserable place naked and alone.

If you spend days, weeks or months isolated, starving, and stripped in the dark, you have no idea.

The sound of a beating heart starts to pulse on the outskirts of your trance, and the side of your bed depresses, rousing you from the memory. Your pillow is damp from tears shed as you were forced to relive that barbarity.

“It’s just a dream,” Astarion soothes, rubbing your arm.

No, a memory.

Does he even remember doing that or the many other similar atrocities he committed against you? If he does, he’s made no indication of it. One day, you will have to ask him, but you don’t feel like exploring that particular abyss of suffering with him right now.

You nod, “Yeah, just a dream.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Astarion glances at the wet spot on your pillow, “It seems to have upset you.”

“No, that’s not necessary. Did you deal with whatever you were summoned for, Master Ancunin?"

He smirks at your teasing, “In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“You killed someone, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head and shrugs, “Perhaps multiple people. I cannot be sure."

“You don’t remember?”

He stares at his hands, “No. More often than not, I recall nothing.”

Does that mean he doesn’t recollect the kennels or the other horrid things he did to me?

“You lost yourself again?”

He sighs, running his hand over his face, “I think so.”

Glancing at his clothes, you register that he’s not wearing the same thing he left in, “You changed?”

“I did.”

He must have been drenched in blood if he bathed and changed before coming home.

“Are you okay right now, or should I be throwing myself at you?”

He giggles, but it has a crestfallen ring, “You can always throw yourself at me, love. But I’m fine. I’m not angry anymore.”

You wrap him in an embrace anyway. His demeanour is melancholic and subdued, and you wonder just what in the nine Hells happened when he was out to have him coming home so miserable.

Astarion leans into you, the corner of his mouth quirking in a small smile and sighs, “Thank you. Should we go out and continue your lessons?”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, “I am rather hungry.”

He pats your leg, “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

The forest is tranquil, with nothing but a light wind rustling the canopy of the lanky trees. A crescent moon hangs high in the sky, but not much of its light makes it to the ground, making the colours of the forest appear more subdued than usual.

“Gods,” Astarion clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “your footwork is truly an atrocity.”

You roll your eyes at him, groaning, “I’m trying!”

“If this is you trying, darling, the realm will end before I can even teach you this.”

“Well, maybe if I had a better teacher!”

He inspects his nails absently, “You’re more than welcome to try and find a more adequate educator.”

Ugh.

“Can you just tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

“It would be shorter to list the things you’re doing right,” he quips.

“Astarion!”

He strolls a slow circle around you with his fingers on his chin. His studious gaze is so intense you can virtually feel his eyes stroking your skin. Shadows skirt handsomely, if a little forebodingly, across the angular planes of his face.

You watch him heedfully, eyes tracking his course as he stalks around you. You’re always on alert with him. It’s hard to know what will set him off and what won’t, and you can’t afford to be caught off guard. Even so, a part of you luxuriates in these moments with him, and you admonish yourself for it.

“Where did I say you should keep most of your weight?”

“In my heels.”

“Ah, so you have learned something,” he tuts, “and where is your weight now?”

Your eyes cast heavenward, and you sigh, “I’m guessing not in my heels.”

“Correct. You’re tottering on your toes. Again,” he scolds, “Shift your weight. You’ll have far superior balance.”

You focus on your body and how it’s positioned. Your centre of gravity is displaced, and you’re rocking slightly from your toes to the balls of your feet and back like a blade of grass in a gentle wind. With effort, you manage to transfer your weight into your heels. The stance feels unnatural to you, and you struggle to keep yourself in it.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “Now, lower your hips. You’re still standing too tall. Everything will see you coming a mile away.”

The muscles of your thighs groan as you try to descend further into the crouch. You’ve been at this for hours, and your body is starting to drone fatigue.

“Lower.”

“Hells, Astarion! How much lower?”

Astarion crouches behind you and places his hands on your hips. Applying a gentle force, he pushes you further into the crouch. The muscles in your legs begin to twitch and tremble, and your balance starts to wobble.

He rises and walks around you again before crouching down in front of you with a cocked brow, “You’re very unsteady.”

Astarion reaches out and pushes your shoulder, causing you to overcorrect and fall forward onto him, knocking him over in the process. Something tells you he allowed you to push him flat to his back on the ground. He could have easily moved out of the way and watched your face grind into the earth.

Regardless, you find yourself sprawled out on top of him while you laugh loudly.

“Are all Sorcerers this unlawfully graceless?”

You smirk, “Do all Rogues possess such a smart mouth?”

He lays his head on the grassy ground and rolls his eyes at you with a grin, “Sassy girl.”

You move to push yourself up, but his arm comes around your waist, bracing you to him, and Astarion pushes the hair out of your eyes, “I really did miss you when you were gone, you know.”

Can I believe him? Can I afford to let myself believe him?

You swallow your rising sorrow, “Do you still feel emotions, Astarion?”

His vivid scarlet eyes impale you and imbue you with a profound solace that spreads through your body like a cascading wave of warmth, prickling your skin.

“You make me feel,” Astarion’s sombre, earnest intonation causes a breath to hitch in your throat.

Feel what - Obsession? Possession? Dominance? You want to ask him, but you don’t, unsure if you’re ready to hear the answer.

His thumb traces your lower lip, and that familiar rush of electricity jolts through your body and twists into your stomach. You trace his jaw with your index finger, leaning in and ghosting the velvety smoothness of his lips with your own.

Gods. I’m losing it.

Astarion presses into your invitation, and your lips mould together, charged with impassioned longing. His hand meanders into the back of your shirt, and you bask in the lazy, comforting strokes of his fingers against your skin. Using your tongue, you coax his mouth open, and he groans, giving you the access you crave.

You can feel your walls spasm and flutter eagerly, silently imploring him to fill you. Gyrating your hips into his bulging erection, he hisses as your swollen, aching clit, gorges on the mouthwatering friction. You whimper against him as your body cries for the release you were denied earlier.

Your eyes pop open momentarily and take in the forest that surrounds you. Memories of the forest the first time rush forward, and you push yourself back abruptly.

Astarion sits upright quickly and scans the surroundings, confused with your retreat, “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Not here,” you pant.

His brows furrow for a second, and he looks around. Comprehension eases his features, “Oh, come now, was I that bad in the forest last time?” he pouts dramatically, “I didn’t hear any complaints at the time.”

“Bad?” You shake your head, “No, Astarion. Those memories are sad.”

His brow cocks, “Sad?”

You run your fingers through your hair, “I should have known what you were up to.”

Once it rolls off your tongue, you wonder if you will regret telling him this. You’ve carried this guilt around since he confessed in the first place. He manipulated you because he felt he had to secure your devotion, thus establishing his safety.

If only you had been less infatuated with him, you might have seen through that guise and been able to stop him from putting himself through that again.

Astarion stands, concern creasing his face, “Love-”

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

You cut him off, “Not here, Astarion.”

He nods curtly, and you begin the walk back to the estate. Once you get to the Lower City, Astarion offers you his hand to hold. It comforts you that he will stop you if you try to hurt someone. You’re not sure if he does it for your benefit or his. After all, if you did lose it and kill someone, you could end up exposing him, a risk he is unlikely to take.

The city streets are mostly quiet at this hour. The only sound you hear is your footsteps thwacking on the rigid ground until a random heartbeat starts repeating in your ears. You don’t give it much thought until her voice drifts out of the darkness. You recognize that repulsively sweet, harmonic tone.

“Astarion, darling! It’s been ages!”

Elowyn.

The woman saunters from the outdoor sitting area of a nearby inn. Her mulberry hair is pulled back, revealing her dainty face and ever-so-increasingly tempting neck. She wears a green dress that makes the sapphire of her eyes stand out.

What is she even doing out here at this time? 

You clench your jaw. Something is off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on what. She has an air about her that makes your skin crawl, but it could be the utter loathing you feel for her playing tricks on you.

Astarion smiles pleasantly, “Elowyn. How lovely to see you.”

Elowyn’s eyes fall to your hand clasping his, and her eyebrows pull down into a slight, barely noticeable scowl. She leans in close, puts her hand on his chest and kisses his cheek, lingering there for far too long.

Your palms warm, and your muscles tense as your jealousy ignites the raging inferno of your temper. Elowyn smiles at you sweetly, but a hint of hostility in her eyes makes you want to relieve her of sight.

“How nice it is to see you again,” she grins brightly, “You appear to be in better shape than when I saw you last.”

Astarion’s brows pull down, “Better shape? My dear, whatever are you talking about?

Elowyn’s cordial laugh fills the air and makes you want to rip her vocal cords out, “Yes, last I saw her, she was quite drunk and heading to see you.”

Astarion thinks for a second and then chuckles, “Yes, she was quite drunk.”

He shoots you a glance and squeezes your hand, telling you to play along. You roll your eyes and scoff contemptuously as if you were going to inform this weasel anything about you or your life.

“She was quite rude to me that night, Astarion dear,” Elowyn sighs dramatically.

Is this bitch seriously trying to get Astarion to hurt me?

Will he?

He smirks dubiously, “Was she? How utterly awful.”

Elowyn pouts, “I do hope you will teach her a lesson. She threatened to kill me after all. She must learn respect.”

Respect? Her? HA! Never.

The notion is so entirely ridiculous that a snide snicker escapes your lips as your face contorts into a threatening grimace.

Astarion stares at her, scowling, “Watch yourself, Elowyn. Do not make me remind you of your place.”

Elowyn’s carefree demeanour falters to concern at the warning intonation of Astarion’s voice. She swallows hard and forces her dainty face to dress in an overjoyed smile, and she’s back to her usual flirtatious facade.

I wonder if she’s gotten him angry yet. If she has, how did she live through it?

Her hand is splayed on his chest, and she presses herself further into him, “I have missed you so. I came by the palace the other night to see if you wouldn’t like some company .”

Company? Ugh. As bad as entertainment.

You scoff at her loudly and try to pull out of Astarion’s grip, but he only holds on tighter.

You frown at him, “Let me go, Astarion. I wish to leave."

“No, you stay.”

“Let. Me. Go,” you growl threateningly.

This is not a request. It’s a command. You may pay dearly for taking this tone with him later, but right now, you don’t care; you would rather endure his wrath a thousand times over than spend another minute in the company of Elowyn.

Watching her put her hands all over him stokes the fire burning in your blood to unfathomable temperatures. As your fury increases, so does the likelihood that you reduce her to a pile of ash.

Why do I care so much?

I left him.

“It seems your pet spawn would like to give us some privacy. Let her go, my sweet Astarion.”

Pet spawn?

Thank you to everyone who reads/likes/comments/reblogs!

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

PS: I hate Elowyn - excuse me while I go break something to get over writing her.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 5 🍒

"The Party & the Long Walk Home"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,853

Summary: Sarah tags along with you at a party, ending in a confession you never expected.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, underage drinking (reader --Sarah takes a small sip), drug use 🌿(reader), big ol' age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), kissing, some dry humping, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail and wears a skirt, reader's race not mentioned, no use of y/n

Series Masterlist

"I can't wait to go to parties," Sarah says as she leafs through a pile of clothes on your bed. You've gone through everything in your closet and can't find anything to wear. While you're frustrated, Sarah finds it fascinating. She doesn't have an older sister or even any close cousins to experience this with. Having no younger sisters yourself, you are pleased that she's absorbed in the intricacies of this level of life.

"You'll be going to parties soon enough," you tell her, watching with a sisterly care as she puts outfits together with her own style in mind. "Some of this stuff is kinda small for me now. You can have them if you want," you offer a couple of tanks tops and shorts, recalling the dates you'd gone on in those clothes, the trips to Astroworld, weekends in Galveston. You don't know when you'll do any of those things again, or if you'll have someone to do them with. Joel still looms large in your mind, your flirtatious teasing from earlier today still fresh on your mind. You want to see him again, but you're not sure how to instigate such a plan, but being neighbors is an advantage.

Then she asks exactly what you think she's going to ask: "Can I go with you?"

You shake your head. "Absolutely not. Your dad would kill me."

Sarah shrugs. "He doesn't have to know."

"Trust me, he'll know. Plus it's gonna be an older crowd. I don't think it would be safe for you."

Sarah's quiet, and when you look at her you see vexation in her expression. "Your dad trusts me with you," you explain. "And he's the last person I want mad at me."

"Do you like him or something?" Sarah asks suddenly, accusatorily.

You freeze while brushing your hair, keeping your eyes on the mirror at your vanity. "What, like.. what do you mean?"

"You like him. I'm not stupid. The pool party," she says, starting to count on her fingers. "You're always coming around, and when you look at him there's this stupid little grin on your face and you blush.. you have a crush on my dad and it's so weird."

You don't know what to say. In fact she's more astute than you give her credit for. "Sarah, I--"

"It's okay," she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. "I mean, most of my friends do. Have a crush on him, I mean. I'm used to it by now. And he doesn't look at my friends the way he looks at you."

Your heart both stills and pounds, the sound growing louder in your ears. "What do you mean?" You realize you're starting to sound like a broken record.

Sarah looks like she's said something she hasn't meant to. "Forget it. It's weird."

"It's not weird," you try to convince her.

"It is! I mean, I catch him staring at you sometimes, even just staring at your house like he's waiting for you to come out."

You try to keep your expression neutral, but you feel your face blush. "You're probably imagining it," you tell her to try to make her feel better.

She just shakes her head. "Maybe.. how would you feel if your father liked your best friend?"

"I haven't seen him since I was about your age, so I wouldn't know."

She gets quiet, playing with the little fairy lights that hang on your headboard. You get the feeling that she understands, in some way, what it's like when a parent goes away.

"We don't have to talk about your dad," you tell her. "I guarantee he's not interested in me that way. He probably thinks I'm way too young for him anyway." But now you're tempted to ask if he talks about you, mentions you in even the most mundane of conversations. You wish you could see yourself through his eyes, as cliche as it sounds.

Sarah watches you from the corner of her eye, and you hate to wonder what she's thinking, because maybe she's being protective of her father. Wouldn't you be? "This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had," she mutters.

This wrenches a little chuckle from you. "Yeah, me too."

She goes quiet again and you wonder just how deeply this unsettles her, because if it's not a big deal then why does it seem to dominate the room?

"I think he's kinda cute," you admit, as if that's all you have thought of him, as if he's an afterthought to everything else in your life.

A little smile appears, lifting the corners of Sarah's face. "Ew."

You finally decide on a belted denim mini-skirt and a baby blue halter top. You're a little out of your comfort zone of your usual graphic tee and cutoff shorts, but you also want to make a good impression. And, if Joel just happens to see me dressed up, that wouldn't be so bad. You clasp on a silver charm bracelet and swipe on a shimmery pink nail polish, Your hair is styled up, a casual ponytail with soft tendrils framing your face. Sarah helps you put this look together, and in this you have reset your bond of friendship.

You watch movies together at her place, hoping that Sarah will fall asleep first so you can leave without feeling guilty. The only other option is taking her with you to the party and, well, that's not really an option. You're halfway through watching The Blair Witch Project when Sarah goes upstairs. You assume she's getting ready for bed, and when the time Hailey has texts you she's here to pick you up, you get ready to leave, and Sarah comes out after you. She's dressed up similarly to you, looking older, more mature.

"What are you doing?" you ask at the same time she says, "I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are!" You're shocked that she would even think of coming along. "I already told you no."

Hailey honks her horn as you and Sarah argue on the porch.

"Please! Just for a little bit! My dad's gonna be out all night, he's never gonna know! Please," Sarah begs.

You feel bad for even considering it. But you can't force her back inside. She's not a child, and you remember being her age. The party is just a few blocks away, and you can get a ride back. You'll think of something, you're sure.

"One hour, no more," you say sternly, and let her in the car with you.

At Hailey's, the music greets you first, loud, booming, making everything around you alive. Inside is full of people talking, laughing, dancing, drinking from beer bottles or red solo cups. It's old hat to you, but Sarah is fascinated, sticking by your side. "Just stay with me," you tell her anyway.

You lose Hailey, who joins another group doing shots in the dining room, and make yourselves at home in the kitchen, picking over the rest of Hailey's birthday cake. You consider this is the safest place for her. "It's kind of like what you see in the movies," she says, eyeing the bottles of alcohol and mixers on the counter.

You smile and pour her a soda. "Just pretend there's already alcohol in this and nobody will try to coerce you into drinking," you smirk. You pour one for yourself, and manage to sneak in a little rum when she's not looking.

The crowd is mostly people from Starbucks, and a few older people you feel are too sketchy for you and Sarah to be around. "I thought you said we could be here for an hour. Can we at least walk around?" she asks, as if reading your mind.

"Sarah, I really don't think--"

"Come on! This is probably the only party I'll ever get to go to," she whines, which is so unlike her.

"All right, fine," you pour yourself a little more rum and coke, and bring her to the garage where there's a game of beer pong going on, mostly guys cheering and cursing. You roll your eyes. "Interesting enough for you?" you playfully elbow her. "Just think: this is what I have to look forward to for the next four years." You bring her out to the backyard where most of the action is. Colored LED lights hang in canopy fashion between the trees, a large trampoline sits, empty, in the corner. "Jump?" you suggest to Sarah. She nods eagerly and you get on, downing your drinks and leaving the empty cups on the ground. You jump gingerly at first, testing the endurance of the trampoline, then you both start jumping, laughing, falling down, getting back up. You can't remember the last time you jumped on a trampoline. Your mother was always overprotective, so you never owned anything that could be counted as fun because she worried you'd get hurt. And now you revel in this feeling, this little rush of freedom. Nobody knows where you are, nobody has tabs on you, and you're pretty sure if you jump high enough you might just fly up to the stars..

Then it's interrupted when a couple of guys come up through the netting and watch you and her. Not that you're unfriendly, but you do have Sarah to look out for. "Can we join you?"

Sarah looks to you and you see the hope in her eyes. "Sure," you say, with an edge of wariness to your voice.

You stop jumping as they climb in, and when they sit, so does Sarah. You sigh and join them. It's still a little unsteady when one of you moves, making little bouncy waves on the trampoline. One of the guys pulls out a joint from his shirt pocket and lights it up, passing it to his friend after taking a puff. You look nervously towards Sarah. This is probably the best time to leave. "She can't," you tell them. "She's on probation. She has a parole officer and everything." It's a little white lie, and one you hope will A.) get them to leave her alone and B.) make her feel kind of cool with an older crowd.

"What about you?" The second guy asks, handing you the joint.

Just once, it's not like I haven't done this before.

Shrugging, you take it and inhale deeply, coughing a little as you exhale and pass it back to the first guy.

"Y'all new around here?" they ask of you and Sarah.

"We're here for the weekend," you lie confidently. "We're from LA."

"No shit? Cali babes. What are your names?"

"Shayla," Sarah says, owning it. "And this is my sister Diamond."

You try not to laugh. The alcohol and the weed are already getting to you. "Yeah. Same mom, different dads."

The guys give one another a look, and you don't know if they're buying your story or just laughing at it. "I'm Mike and this is Emilio," they introduce themselves.

You pass the joint between the three of you until it's done, and Mike brings out some apple brandy in a brown paper bag. This time you don't bat an eye when Sarah grabs the bottle after your sip, and you burst with laughter as she takes a drink and coughs, dismissing her future turns.

Not long after, you're all laying on the trampoline, staring up at the night sky. The stars are numerous, like diamonds sprinkled upon dark velvet. Mike and Emilio are nice, not flirtatious, and respect the boundaries you've put up from the get-go. There's a nice, buzzy feeling in your brain and in your heart. Next to you, Sarah reaches her hand out and you hold it.

"It's been more than an hour." Her voice sounds sleepy.

"Hmm? Oh shit." You pull out your phone and look at the time. "It's almost midnight, Cinderella. Time to leave the ball." Your voice sounds odd, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears as you get up. The bouncy movements of the trampoline make you dizzy. "Ready?" you ask her.

There's a commotion from within the house, and people are rushing outside to the patio. "Cops!" someone shouts, and you and the others are alert. "Shit! We've gotta get out of here," you tell Sarah. The guys are already gone, having leapt over the fence and into a neighbor's yard.

You and Sarah follow some people going through a door in the fence, it leads to a darkened area near the highway. Beyond there are lights for hotels, gas stations, and fast food restaurants. "It's too dangerous," you tell Sarah. But can you go back? You take a right, going into the grassy area beneath an underpass, and hear footsteps following you. You know it's not the cops but in your paranoid state you can't be sure. Your grip on Sarah's hand remains tight.

A few of the partygoers, including yourselves, split up, some going towards the lighted areas, but your neighborhood is the other way. It's dark, little traffic, but that doesn't mean it's safe. You follow the highway until it reaches an exit into a more residential area. In your inebriated state you focus harder on recognizing the landmarks. There's a motel, and an all-night restaurant next adjacent. "This way," you tell Sarah, and walk together, trying to stay under the streetlights and out of the shadows. You're out of danger of being caught or arrested, but you still have to make it home. "Shayla and Diamond?" you repeat, recalling the names Sarah had given yourselves. "You had to give us the most stripper-like names, huh?"

Sarah grins. "If you're gonna give fake names, they'd better be good ones."

You pass a few businesses and come up on a bar, with loud rock music blasting as people went in or out. Not a safe place, so you hurry, even though your feet hurt and you desperately just want to sit and take a rest. The world is spinning and you feel like you might fall off. "We make a right here, and then we're just a few blocks from home," you sigh, already dreaming of falling face-first onto your comfortable bed.

"I'm sorry I was such trouble," Sarah says quietly as you enter the dark neighborhood. Dogs bark in the distance, crickets chirp loudly. "I just wanted to go out for some fun.."

"Some fun we had. Party got busted, we almost got in trouble. Your dad would have had a heart attack if he'd had to come get you from the police station."

"Promise you won't tell him?" Sarah's eyes are wide, innocent in the light of the moon.

"Promise," you say, with as much of a smile as your tipsy/high/tired self can give.

You've spoken too soon.

Behind you a truck flashes its high beams and you both turn. You're walking on the sidewalk, so there's no reason for anyone to do that. You both ignore it but he speeds up to catch up with you.

"What the hell's your problem, asshole?" you shout, freezing when you see the driver.

It's Joel.

And he looks pissed as hell.

Your brain races to think of something to say, but in an instant he reaches over to unlock the passenger door. "Get in," he commands, and Sarah dutifully gets in first, followed by you. The bench seats allow you to sit all together, and even before you've closed the door behind you, Joel takes off. It's dead quiet until he speaks.

"What the hell were you both doin' out this late?" His question is aimed at you. You're the adult. You should know better.

Sarah cuts in. "It's my fault, Dad. I made her take me to this party," she says.

"Bullshit! You have no business bein' at a party this late, dressed like a-- like a slut," he utters this last line with a glance in your direction and you want to crawl into the earth. You pull up your halter top and put your arms over your thighs to cover yourself from his accusatory gaze.

"Dad, you have no right to say that!" Sarah sticks up for the both of you.

"You're my daughter and I won't have you puttin' yourself at risk like this. Now tell me the truth: where were you? Did you drink? God damn it, did you do anything else?"

"She didn't," you cut in. It's a lie, because Sarah had that one experimental sip of brandy, but you don't feel bad about this little white lie. "She was safe with me the whole time. The party got busted and we made a run for it. That's the truth."

Joel shakes his head. "I never expected this, not from you."

You feel shame like a poison in your veins. You want to cry.

The three of you remain quiet the rest of the ride home. Joel's anger, his disappointment, weighs down the air, makes the atmosphere heavy. You feel nauseous.

He pulls up to his own driveway. "Sarah, go inside. Wait for me in the living room. We're gonna have a long talk,"

Sarah, with a despondent look in your direction, gets out as you scoot over. She goes inside the house and you make your way out too until Joel calls you back.

"Me and you ain't done."

Your heart is banging in your chest and you get back in. You've never dealt well with getting in trouble. For the most part you've walked a straight line, maybe done a few things you shouldn't have, but never have you gotten someone else in trouble with you.

"I'm sorry," you whisper when he takes forever to talk.

"I thought I knew you better. Thought you had a good head on your shoulders." Joel's voice expresses his disappointment, tinged with anger.

"It was a mistake. It won't happen ever again. I--" you shake your head, on the verge of tears.

He sees you start to cry and he sighs, trying to collect himself. "Don't cry. It's just.. you know why I'm real fuckin' mad, don't ya?"

You nod. There's hope in your chest that you'll be let off the hook. But you never can tell with Joel.

"I'd be mad too. You have every right to be mad. Just.. don't be mad at Sarah. Take it out on me." You're leaning close to him, your eyes begging for leniency. "Leave her out of it, she's a kid. There were many ways out of this and I didn't take any of them. It's my fault alone, and I'm sorry."

He's looking down at his lap, his profile lit up by the streetlight that stands between your house and his. "Joel?.." Something in you is brave when you scoot closer to him, and it all becomes a blur as you gently turn him to face you, and your lips touch his cheek.

His beard is a little rough, and feels exactly as you'd imagined it would beneath your kiss. You feel him tremble, and as you pull away his eyes open to take in the sight of you. He whispers your name as he cups your face in his hands, all his anger gone, replaced with something new. His breath shudders as he moves his touch to your arms, your sides, fingertips lightly skimming over the bare skin between your top and your skirt. You make a sound of surprise and need, and when he hears it he brings your lips to his in a crashing kiss.

Your heart throbs as you eagerly lean into his kiss, and he grabs your waist, pinning you to straddle his lap. His tongue explores your mouth as he cups the back of your head. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, and when you suck on his tongue he emits a deep groan, shifting his hips upward against you so you can feel that he wants you. You rub yourself against the hardness in his jeans, giving little gasps, searching for a way to alleviate the ache that's built up inside you. He grabs your ass as you move, guiding you over him, lifting your skirt until his fingers find the edge of your panties.

It's going to happen! It's finally going to happen! Your brain rejoices, but just as you're about to tell him you want this, he pulls away, gently removing you from his lap. He leans back in his seat, hands covering his eyes, taking deep breaths.

"Joel, what's wrong?" you ask in a small voice.

"FUCK!" his hand slams the steering wheel. He takes another deep breath, not looking at you. "We can't do this."

"What-- why not?" You feel shameful suddenly, like the slut he said you were dressed as just ten minutes before.

"You need to get out and go home. I'll talk to Sarah about this, but you and I need to forget about.. this."

You're so ashamed you could cry. "What did I do?" you ask in that same small voice.

"I just.. can't, sweetheart. We can't."

"I don't know what you think of me, but I've never.. I never have.. I'm a virgin," you practically whisper.

Joel gives a bitter laugh and runs his hands through his hair, eyes closed in longing. "Baby, that ain't makin' things any easier."

"So you don't want me."

"Sweetheart, you're beautiful, you're funny, you're smart, I like you a helluva lot. Of course I want you. You felt how much I want you, right?"

You nod.

"We've both been drinkin', and I'm pretty sure you're a little high right now. I can't take advantage of ya. I won't. As much as I want to be the first to bury my cock into that tight wet pussy, I fuckin' won't take advantage."

Your heart skips a beat, hearing him say these things, and your cunt throbs in response. But you don't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, but you gotta walk yourself home. I don't trust myself around ya, not right now," he says.

You shake yourself out of your fantasy and nod again, rearranging your clothes as you get out. The taste of him is still on your tongue, you can still feel his large, rough hands on your skin and his clothed hardness rubbing between your thighs. Even if you never see him again, this is all you will think about for the rest of your life, ever.

"Good night, Joel," you say softly, getting out and closing the door behind you. Shivering even though the night is warm, you hold yourself as you walk to your house, unlock the door and get in. Lights off, you peek through the windows as you watch Joel finally emerge from the truck. For a moment he goes towards his own house, then changes his mind and heads directly to your door. You gasp as you see him start to come up the porch steps, then he forces himself to turn back, walking resolutely to his own house, door shut for the rest of the night.

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[phantom-of-the-501st]

Thoughts on the Batch's Ending

Ooookay. This is going to be a long one. (Little note from Steph who just finished writing this: it’s nearly 3000 words…)

Tagging @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings and @eriexplosion because I value their thoughts (but I'm also not demanding that you read 3000 words of waffle)

I’ve had a lot of thoughts about the finale of The Bad Batch and honestly, my mind is a bit of a mess right now. One of the things I just want to try and tackle is how I feel about the ending of each Batch member individually, because while I can look at it and say “The Batch got a happy ending!”, I feel like that doesn’t really give me much of an idea of whether or not each character got an ending that I feel is fitting for their story arc.

So, this post is basically just going to be me unpicking the ending for each of the Batchers and working out how I feel about it (aka me trying to unscramble the mass load of thoughts going on in my head right now). 

Omega

Overall, I’m very happy with where Omega ended up. When you look back on how she was when we first met her, you realise just how much she has grown over the last few seasons. She didn’t just learn to be a part of the squad, she also learned how to look after herself. It isn’t just a development of her skillset, it’s also a growth in maturity, which allows her to have a clearer head and more rational decisions in the field. While Omega trusted her brothers to come and rescue her, she didn’t just sit around and wait for them, she hatched her own plan to not only get her and the other children out, but also help the Batch when they arrive at Tantiss.

Like Echo, she strongly believes in helping people and I love that that has carried through into her ending. While it would have been nice for her to live a quiet life, free of any more troubles, it makes complete sense for her to want to join the Rebellion. And I think it was at a good time as well. Omega got to spend the rest of her childhood being raised in a more peaceful, safe environment, before making the decision a few years down the line to go her own way. This is her leaving the nest and I think it was tackled incredibly well. You can see how she has taken on attributes from all of her brothers, and judging by her style choice, Phee as well. We see Omega using the support of her brothers to carve her own path and I love that.

Personally, I can’t really see a more fitting development in her story than this. And I’m reluctant to actually call it an ending because for her, this feels more like the beginning of a new chapter. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her again later down the road.

Hunter

Now those who follow me may be aware that Hunter was never my favourite member of the Batch. I didn’t dislike him, but I never really connected with him in the same way that I connected with all of the other characters. Saying that, it doesn’t mean I haven’t given a lot of thought to him and his character.

Hunter always had a lot on his shoulders. He was the leader of the Batch and that meant keeping a rag-tag group of defective clones in line, but it also left him with the belief that if anything were to happen to his squad, it would be his responsibility. So, with Crosshair and Omega stuck with the Empire, and Tech dead, Hunter had a lot to carry. At the beginning of Season 3 we saw that he had become more reckless and irrational, not really thinking about plans and wanting to jump straight into things. It was Wrecker who had to step in and make sure Hunter didn’t do anything stupid. Hunter felt like he lost control and that took a lot out of him, especially since this is something I think he could feel creeping up on him throughout Season 2, even if he tried to fight it. The Batch had started to make decisions without him, and Omega was forming close attachments to other people, which was digging a knife into Hunter’s fear of losing his squad. So S3 saw him trying everything he could to reunite the Batch, because he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

And he achieved that. But what I also deeply appreciate is that we see Hunter accepting that Omega wants to go her own way. This was something he didn’t want happening for a long time, but once he accepted that she was capable of looking after herself, and once he accepted that he could never keep her tied in place forever, he supported Omega in her decision to join the Rebellion. Yes, he will always worry about her. He even tells her that she will always be their kid. But he knows that it’s time for her to carve her own path, and that means for him, finally letting go and accepting that Clone Force 99 will never be what it once was. 

Wrecker

Wrecker is an interesting one for me because he’s one of the few characters where I can’t really see a big step for his character in the final episode. For many of the others there is some form of acceptance, or big step in their lives, but for Wrecker I don’t really see that. And unfortunately, I think that comes from Wrecker never really being the focus of any strong character development throughout the history of the show. That’s not to say there wasn’t any growth at all, but when we look at how far everyone else has come in their stories, Wrecker always feels like he never got the same treatment in this show. The biggest growth I saw was when he stepped in to help Hunter when he could see the sergeant was spiralling.

So, while I’m happy he lived and has gone on to enjoy a longer, more peaceful life than we ever expected for the Batch, it makes me sad that we never really saw anything big for Wrecker in this ending. No big acceptance, no huge sacrifice. We don’t even get to see him say goodbye to Omega when she leaves. I love that Wrecker got a happy ending, but I always wish that we had gotten the opportunity to see more of a character arc with him over the course of the entire show.

Crosshair

I accepted a while ago that if any of the Batch members were to survive, Crosshair would be one of them because I didn’t expect the writers to kill him off after everything that he had been through. And thankfully they didn’t! I love that after everything, Crosshair has managed to find peace. Maybe not completely, but enough that he has the chance to live a life that doesn’t involve him being a soldier. 

Throughout S2 and S3 we saw Crosshair come to terms with the fact that he was disposable to the Empire and that they didn’t care about him as much as he had made himself believe. And one of the things Crosshair fought with the most was his own identity as a soldier. For so long, he believed that that was all he was, all he could be, so that’s why it has been so amazing finally seeing Crosshair acknowledge that he doesn’t need to be a soldier to still live a life he deserves; his purpose is and always has been more than that.

Saying that, I want to address the hand thing because I am still unsure of where I sit with it. Following his escape from Tantiss, we see Crosshair has developed hand tremors as a result of his PTSD, and a decent chunk of the season has been dedicated to him learning how to live with them. The biggest reason for this affecting Crosshair so much was that it impacted his ability to be a sniper, which is what Crosshair believed to be his main purpose: he didn’t know what to do without the ability to use his hand. And we were given some incredibly sweet scenes between him and Omega as she helped him work out the best way to manage the tremors, for example, them meditating together.

But then that brings me onto my main issue, which is, why remove the hand? One of the reasons I keep seeing is that it removes Crosshair’s ability to be a sniper, but we had already seen that. That’s the issue that the tremors were causing. Crosshair had already been struggling with that ability as a result of what happened to him on Tantiss, so cutting his hand off as a way of preventing his sniping ability seems a bit unnecessary. Now admittedly, the soldier who cut his hand off didn’t know that he had hand tremors, so logistically it makes sense, but as a story tool it seems a bit bizarre to me. Personally, I think it would’ve been more interesting to pursue the idea of Crosshair learning to manage his tremors through meditation etc. and adapting to a life that has less of a focus on sniping. 

Another reason I have seen for the hand is that it symbolises Crosshair finally becoming free from the Empire and what they did to him on Tantiss. Him no longer having the tremors indicates that he is no longer burdened by the Empire and his time there. But that doesn’t really work for me either. For one, Crosshair will never truly be separated from what happened to him there; even if he lost the shaking, he would still have a number of psychological issues as a result of what he went though, so I can’t see it as a way of symbolising a true separation. Which is once again why I think that following the story beat of him managing the tremors would have been a more interesting path for them to go down with his character.

Saying that, I’m still happy with where Crosshair’s story went. He is arguably the most complex character in the Batch and I’m so glad we have been able to see him develop the way he has. Him living a long, quiet life is something that I’m happy he has gotten, and I truly don’t think that him dying would have brought nearly as satisfying a conclusion as Crosshair finally finding a new place in the world.

Tech

Oh boy… this is going to be an interesting chunk of this essay. So errm… it turns out Tech is actually dead, which is… kinda shit. 

Back when we saw him fall at the end of S2, I said that one of the reasons that I didn’t believe that Tech was really dead was because if he was, I would’ve found the writing kinda cheap. I said repeatedly throughout that season that I didn’t want all of his character development to simply be an emotional manipulation tactic to make us even more sad when he died… which is what it turned out to be. It doesn’t surprise me that Tech sacrificed himself, but it makes me mad that ultimately his death never really had any real impact on anything. I mean, they hardly even addressed it in the final season!

I get that animated Star Wars is known for rarely addressing characters after their deaths, but The Clone Wars focuses on so many characters that if we gave that much attention to every character that died, then we would never progress the plot. However, unlike TCW, The Bad Batch primarily focuses on a smaller group of clones and therefore not only has the space to explore the impacts that death would have on the squad, but really should find it a necessary part of the storytelling. The lack of attention given to Tech throughout this season has been beyond frustrating to me. He deserved better.

And I can’t write a section about Tech’s ending without addressing the CX-2 situation. Were we all delusional for believing that Tech was alive? No. Now before people come at me for saying that, I want to explain why that is the conclusion I have come to. You would have every right to label us delusional if there was absolutely no proof behind the claims that we made, but when the writers give us a character that both speaks and acts like Tech, what did they expect us to think? There were too many parallels between Tech and CX-2 for it to be coincidental and I still stand by the fact that we had reason to believe that they were the same person.

Now, looking at the other CX soldiers we see in the finale, they all seem to parallel the OG members of the Batch: there’s a larger one who primarily focuses on hand-to-hand combat, someone who favours blades, a sniper, and a more tech-savvy one. And I’m sure there is a reason for that, symbolically or practically, but if the fact that they all resemble the Batch is important, then why was so much focus put primarily on CX-2? There was no way we weren’t going to think that they would reveal him to be Tech.

Overall, I’m annoyed. Tech was such a brilliant character and I am so frustrated that not only did he get a death that I felt was kind of cheap, but he didn’t get nearly the respect he should have been given in the final season. Now, I’m not using this as a way to bash the writers, and I definitely don’t think that anyone should use it as an excuse to be bullies, but unfortunately, I can’t be satisfied with the way Tech’s story ended, and I’m not sure I ever will.

Echo

Last but certainly not least, Echo. To say that Echo means a lot to me is an understatement, and I was genuinely terrified that I might have to say goodbye to one of my comfort characters. But thankfully, our boy made it!

Following Season 1, we all wanted for Echo to get some more development. It never felt like he had truly been used to his full potential. And thankfully, Season 2 began to give us that. Yes, we ended up saying goodbye to Echo for half a season, but we saw some incredible growth in his character, and him choosing to join the rebellion made too much sense not to happen. Unfortunately, this also meant that we didn’t get to see Echo for the majority of the final season, but I am beyond grateful that what they gave us in these last few episodes has been some of the best Echo content that we have ever seen. Watching him grow and find where he belongs has been a pleasure to watch, He really is an ARC trooper through and through. Particularly in these last few episodes, seeing how much he has grown to be like Fives, and watching him carry on his brother’s legacy, has been so incredible, No matter what anyone says, I believe that he truly is one of the greatest, and most important characters that we’ve ever gotten out of animated Star Wars.

However, I do have one gripe with Echo’s ending, and it’s the fact that it doesn’t actually feel like a conclusion. If anything, I have more questions about Echo now than I did before the last episode. Echo going to the Rebellion is an absolute given; he still has stuff to help Rex with. But the fact that there is absolutely no mention of him in the epilogue has just made me wonder where he is. Omega mentions Crosshair and Wrecker, and we only see Hunter, so we know that Echo isn’t with them. But we also know that at that point in the story, Echo also isn’t with Rex (assuming we’re in Rebels era). So where is he? What is he doing? Is he actually dead at that point??? I really hope we see more of Echo in the future because if this really is the last time we see his character, it’s too open ended for me to really be satisfied with it.

But if I’m being honest, I really don’t think that this is the last time that we are going to see him. And especially with Omega joining the Rebellion, I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw another clone-centric show following these characters in the future.

Concluding Thoughts

All in all, my thoughts are still a bit jumbled. I still don’t know how I truly feel about everything, but hopefully this post at least gives some insight into how I think each character’s endings were handled. Will I change my mind at some point? Probably. But for now, this is where I stand.

At its core, I think the ending we got makes sense for a lot of the characters, and I’m glad that they didn’t all just die at the end. Sure, there are choices that I’m not happy with, but seeing that some of the Batch go on to live long lives is something that I’m very happy to see. It doesn’t happen enough in animated SW, so I’m glad we got to experience it.