#but I am faint of the heart you guys need to STOP

[notgonnaedit]

Confusing Feelings

summary: Mira struggles with her feelings, as does Hunter. Meanwhile, Althea thinks they're weird.

Warnings: none

A/n: this was a trade with @dreamsight73! Your OC is awesome and I love her!

The parlor was quiet, save for the soft hum of the music in the background. There had been no jobs for Clone Force 99 for almost a week. Even with Cid giving them everything she had, the team had nothing to do.

Althea sat at the bar, doodling aimlessly with her head resting on her arm. A familiar figure walked over and sat beside her. 

"You're a little young for the bar, wouldn't you say?" Mira asked.

Althea shot her a look. "You're, like, two years older than me," she huffed.

Mira rested her hand on her chest. "I'm actually ten years older than you, but it warms my heart that you think I'm younger."

Althea rolled her lamp-like eyes. "It's probably those potions you brew."

"They're poisons, Thea," the assassin corrected. 

The girl looked up at her. "I'ma medic. And how am I supposed to know what your poisons are if you won't teach me?"

The violet clad woman raised a brow. "Didn't you just say you were a medic?"

Althea huffed. "I still carry a blaster, don't I?"

Mira hummed softly. She knew little of Althea's past, but a girl her age should never have to fight for her life. She would know.  

",I don't know how you keep doing this, kid," a husky voice commented.

Mira was pulled from her thoughts and turned to see Hunter playing dejarik with Omega. The sergeant was losing every game, but he had a content smile on his face. His opponent was suppressing giggles, but was failing.

Hunter leaned back, hands on his knees. "I need a break from this thing."

"No! I'll go easy on you!" Omega practically begged.

A small chuckle escaped Hunter. "Alright, just give me a few minutes." He stood and ruffled the child's curls before walking over to the bar.

Mira's heart fluttered as she watched him. He exuded such confidence and leadership, yet he was always kind to the younger girls. She would never understand why he let her tag along with them, considering his protective nature, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"A little young to be at the bar, aren't you, kiddo?" Hunter asked, setting his hand on Althea's head.

The medic sat up. "Mira said the exact same thing." She huffed before muttering, "I swear, you guys deserve each other."

A nervous laugh left Mira's mouth before she could stop it. Althea looked at her, then at Hunter.

The sergeant had stiffened, and despite the black ink covering half his face, there was a faint red tint. Althea narrowed her eyes. She didn't know Mira too well, but she knew Hunter, and this was weird.

Omega had noticed it as well. She glanced between the sergeant and the assassin before her chocolate hues met Althea's bright ones.

"Riiiiight...." Althea slipped from her stool and moved between the two adults. "I'll just go and see if Tech needs help now."

The pilot had been repairing the ship from their last job with Echo. Wrecker was helping them with the heavy lifting as well.

"I'll go," Omega chimed in, standing to follow the older girl.

"I thought you wanted to play more?" Hunter asked her.

The blonde looked between Mira and her brother. "That's okay."

Great. Mira thought. Just when I couldn't feel any more awkward.

Once the two girls were outside, Althea looked at the younger. "That was weird, right?"

"Definitely!" She agreed. "Why was Hunter looking at her like that?"

Althea frowned. "I don't kn–" She stopped a sudden memory surfacing. "Oh no."

"What is it??" Omega pressed.

"Hunter was looking at her like how my dad would look at my mom." Althea grimaced and stuck her tongue out.

"Your parents?" Omega asked. "That means..."

"He likes her," Althea whispered.

Omega raised a brow. "But you can like people without it being...that. I like you." 

Althea shook her head. "No. He like likes her. Like ‘Lets get married’."

Omega scrunched her nose. "Ew."

"Yeah."

A beat of silence passed between the girls as they approached their ship. Althea put her hand on Omega's shoulder, stopping her. "We can't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"If Hunter likes Mira but she doesn't like him, it'll break his heart. We can't let it get back to him that we know."

Omega hummed, nodding. Neither girl wanted to see Hunter hurt, so they made an unspoken pact.

Meanwhile, in Cid's parlor, Mira was trying to keep her cool. The girls had left her high and dry, leaving her with an incredibly attractive man she could barely exist around.

"So, they just left," she said in attempt to start conversation.

Hunter kept his gaze on the bar, refusing to meet hers. "Yep."

He always kept his cool during missions and jobs. He never got flustered, yet around Mira it was like he completely forgot how to act.

"Any idea on what the girls are up to?" She asked him.

The sergeant shrugged. "Thea mentioned helping the others on the ship. But I wouldn't be surprised if they found something else to occupy their minds."

"How would you feel about me teaching Althea about poisons?"

Hunter turned his gaze to the assassin before him. "What?"

It was Mira's turn to shrug. "She's been asking me about it lately, but I didn't want to infringe on any rules you had." Her heart rate kicked up. "I mean– I know you guys are close and I didn't want to take away time or anything..."

Hunter stared at the woman. She was asking permission to teach Althea about poisons because she didn't want to break rules or infringe on their relationship?? This had never happened before. Anyone else would have gone behind his back, including his brothers.

She stood there nervously, her beautiful brown eyes watching him warily. Of course she would do something unlike Hunter had ever heard of. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. 

His own heart rate kicked up a notch, his face flushing as he answered her.

"Yeah, I'd think that'd be great."​​​​​​​

[boyapologist]

"imagine video" "newlywed game"

[imaginedisish]

Need 2 (Logan Howlett x f!reader)

A/N: So...I'm back already lol. This sort of just came to me last night. I was rewatching the first and second X-Men movies and got a little inspired. This is also inspired by the song "Need 2" by Pinegrove. Didn't think I'd be posting another fic already, but here we are. Hopefully y'all enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan have always been plagued with nightmares, so avoiding sleep is just something you two have in common...until you find yourselves in each other's beds, helping one another through your nightmares.

Warnings: 18+! Smut! Minors DNI! PWP. Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), Fingering, AFAB!reader, fem!reader, Reader has some hair at the nape of her neck that can be played with (length, color and texture are not described!), mutant!reader, cursing, canon typical violence, angst, praise kink, feelings, nightmares, friends to lovers, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's all?

Word Count: 3,906

Some nights, it was easier not to sleep. It was easier to go down into the kitchen, the living room, or one of the many libraries in the mansion and stay awake. It was easier than forcing yourself to go to bed, just to wake up screaming thirty minutes later. 

So tonight, like far too many nights, you’ve found yourself in your favorite corner in your favorite library in the mansion. You’re reading Simone de Beauvoir’s letters to Sartre when a familiar figure enters the room. 

“What’re you doing awake?” Logan’s voice is gruff, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his beater tight against his chest. “You should be asleep.”

“Can’t sleep,” You answer, placing a bookmark between the pages and shutting the book. You look up at the old grandfather clock on the other side of the room. 2:00 AM. “You should be sleeping too.” You smirk patting the free space next to you on the loveseat. 

He shakes his head. “Too stuffy in here.”

You roll your eyes, placing the book down on the couch. “Then what’s your plan, big guy?”

He holds up his beer and points down the hall. “Gonna sit in front of the T.V. You can too,” he pauses tentatively, “if you want.”

“S-sure,” you stutter. Why are you stuttering? You spend time with Logan constantly. This isn’t new. This is normal. You feel your heart rate pick up. This is ridiculous. This is a totally regular night. 

You stand and follow him down the hall and into another room, one with a lit fireplace and a television. You both sit down, leaving a generous amount of room between the two of you. Logan reaches for the remote and turns the T.V. on. He surfs through the channels before stopping on a movie you instantly recognize. 

“Casablanca?” You ask, turning towards him, letting yourself move just a bit closer as you do so. You feel like he’s moved closer in too. 

He nods, his eyes glued to the screen. “It’s a classic.”

You can’t help but smirk. “Never pinned you for the love story type.”

“You’d be surprised,” he says back as he turns towards you again. There’s a faint smile on his face. You swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second before he turns to face the T.V. again. 

A few minutes go by like this, the two of you just inches away from one another. You can’t concentrate on the movie with him this close. It’s impossible. 

Despite the heat of the fire, you start to feel a chill. Goose bumps rise on your arms, and you pull your legs into your chest, your arms wrapping around your knees. 

Logan immediately notices, shifting to grab the throw blanket from behind him. “Cold?” He asks, taking the opportunity to move closer towards you as he tosses the blanket over the two of you. 

“Y-yeah, thanks,” you answer. But you’re still cold. You bring the blanket up so that it rests just under your chin. For such an old mansion, the A/C must work great. No wonder the fire was already lit when you and Logan got in here. 

Logan notices again. He rests his arm against the back of the couch. “You could…” He trails off, nodding his head to offer the space right next to him, in his arms. “Come over here?” You nod back, scooching closer until your side presses into his. 

He’s an absolute furnace. He pulls you into his chest, rubbing up and down your arm gently. He’s so warm. You instinctively curl into him, wanting nothing more than to be closer to him. For the first time in months, you feel comfortable enough—safe enough—to fall asleep. 

“Better?” He asks, his lips brushing against your forehead. 

You nod against his chest. “So much better.” You whisper. You can feel your eyelids growing heavy. You let them fall shut. Let yourself go. Give in. Finally. 

“Lo?” You quietly call out. You’re so close to sleep that you don’t even realize you’re speaking. 

You can feel his smile on the side of your head. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You feel so nice.” You’re mumbling, half asleep. It’s nonsense, but it’s true. “So safe.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You do too. Now get some sleep.”

You shake your head softly. “Only if you sleep, too.” 

You think you feel another kiss. One of his hands reaches up to play with the hair at the nape of your neck. “I will, I promise.”

You drift off to sleep, waking up just once about an hour and a half later to see Logan still on the couch beside you. He’s asleep, still holding you to his chest. You don’t wake him. You let yourself fall asleep again. 

You wake up a few hours later, this time in your own bed, the sun shining through your curtains. You notice a note next to your pillow. 

Glad you got some sleep. -Logan

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

You can hear him, his grunts, his screams. You jump out of bed and sprint down the hall. You don’t need a flashlight to find his room. You know the way by heart. You don’t even bother knocking. You burst in and shut the door behind you. 

You run over to the side of his bed and start to softly shake him. “It’s just a dream, Lo,” you call out to him. He doesn’t wake up. He’s still grunting, still tossing and turning. You feel helpless. “Logan, it’s okay.” You speak a bit louder this time, putting more of your weight on his shoulders as you shake him. Nothing. No change. 

“Logan, please wake up.” Louder again. And still nothing. “Fuck it.”

You climb onto the bed, maneuvering so that you can get on top of him. You’re straddling him now, which probably isn’t the world’s greatest idea. You shake his shoulders harder as he winces, his head thrashing against the mattress, his chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Come on, Lo, wake up.”

And then, he’s sitting up, claws out, the tips just nudging the base of your throat. “It’s me!” You shout. “It’s just me!” You can hear the shing of his claws retracting. You look down to see that the collar of your shirt is sliced.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He’s wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest, scanning your body frantically for any injury. He’s moving up and down your skin like a wildfire, checking every possible surface that he could have pierced or sliced. 

You try to stop him, but he refuses to listen. “You didn’t get me, Logan. I’m okay, really.” 

He pushes you down onto the mattress, carefully turning you over onto your stomach before you can protest. “I’m just checking your back, okay?”

“You couldn’t have touched my back. That’s physically impossible.” You try to turn back over, but he keeps you down, one hand pinned between your shoulder blades as the other pulls up your shirt to search your skin. You suddenly remember you aren’t wearing a bra. You’re not wearing any shorts, either. Just your oversized pajama shirt and panties.

His fingers gently trace your skin before reaching up to pull the shirt back down. He finally lets you turn over. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting on your knees, just a few inches away from Logan. It’s your turn to reach out to him now. You bring up a tentative hand to his shoulder; he trembles under your touch but doesn’t push you away. You move a bit closer, your knee slotting into the space between his thighs. Your hand slides up his shoulder to his neck, and he finally leans into your palm. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers again. He moves closer, shifting his thighs further into your own. “I never, ever want to hurt you.” He brings his arms back around you, hesitantly pulling you into his chest. You let him, let him hold you. You know he needs to—needs to feel someone else. You wrap your arms around his body too. 

“I know, Lo. It’s okay. No more apologizing.” You hold him tighter. “Are you okay?”

He hums as his face burrows into the crook of your neck. “Just a nightmare.” A part of you is surprised he’s letting you hold him and holding you back. “I fucked up your shirt.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder. “I know.” 

“Almost fucking killed you.” He’s trembling again like he wants to push you away. 

You hold him tighter. “You didn’t though,” You mumble against his bare skin. “Please don’t run away. Let me hold you, please.” 

He relaxes again, pulling you in tighter in response. “Why do you care about me?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Why do you care about me?” You ask back. 

He scoffs. “Because I…” He trails off. You can tell he’s not giving you the whole truth. “I just do. You’re you. That’s all there is to it.”

“Exactly. And you’re you.” You can feel his lips ghost against your neck—not quite a kiss, but not quite nothing either. “So, I care about you too.”

“I don’t deserve it, the way you care about me.” His lips don’t move from that half-kiss position along your neck as he speaks. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Your voice is suddenly stern, assertive. “You deserve so much, Logan. So much.” Before you can even think about what you’re doing, you press a kiss against his bare shoulder. And then another. And another. 

“You should go back to bed.” His voice is low and hoarse. He finally presses a true kiss into your neck, too. 

You shake your head. “No,” you whisper. “Let me stay with you.”

“But what if I—” 

You cut him off. “Please.”

He doesn’t protest this time. He just guides you down to the pillows, keeping one arm tightly around your waist as the other brings the covers up and over the two of you. 

You stay intertwined, your legs tangled up with his, your chests pressed tightly together. You bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, gently raking your nails through his hair. His lips find your neck again, kissing that spot just underneath your ear. It’s chaste, but there’s something else there. You know there is. 

You can feel him relaxing, drifting off into sleep, and so you let yourself do the same. There’s nowhere you feel safer than with Logan. 

When you wake up, you’re still in Logan’s bed, but his side is empty. Again, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

Thank you. Hope this makes up for what I did. -Logan.

Underneath the note is his favorite Rolling Stones shirt.

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

You’re somewhere dark, sitting on a cold metal chair, your hands shackled in more cold metal. The air tastes like metal, too. And then it dawns on you: Magneto. 

His figure appears in front of you, his hand extended out towards something...perhaps someone. Towards no one? No. There he is, floating in front of you. Logan. “NO!” You yell. You can feel your throat burn as you shout.

“Let him go!” You scream. But Magneto doesn’t budge. He holds Logan in the air, bending the metal in his body. He stretches Logan’s claws out. You remember when Logan told you it hurts every time he unleashes them. You can’t imagine the pain he’s in now.  

“Logan!” You cry out. Your abilities don’t seem to work, no matter how hard you try. You’re powerless, helpless, useless. You echo his name repeatedly to no avail. 

You’re forced to sit and watch as his claws bend backward. Tears run down your face as Logan screams in agony. There’s nothing you can do. You thrash in place. 

“Let him fucking go!” You sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Logan! I’m so sorry. Oh fuck. I’m so sorry.” A familiar name calls for you in the distance, but you ignore it. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. “So fucking sorry.”

The voice shouts your name again. And again. Tears stain your cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s just a dream, come on, wake up for me sweetheart.” You know that voice. “I’m right here, just wake up.” 

Your eyes finally flutter open. There he is, in front of you, his solid frame heavy on top of you. “Lo?” You push yourself up to meet him. 

“It’s me, darlin’, It’s me.”

You throw your arms around him, sobbing into his bare chest. “Fuck,” you mumble against him. 

He wraps his arms tightly around your body, carefully bringing you back down to the bed. “It’s okay. It’s over now. I’m here.”

“How’d you know I was…” You trail off, swallowing harshly, not wanting to think about what you just dreamed of. 

“You called my name. I came the second I heard you.” His voice is soft but shaky. It dawns on you that you scared him. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Tears stream down your cheeks, your voice a trembling mess. 

He presses a soft kiss against your shoulder, and then that usual spot in the crook of your neck. He somehow manages to pull you tighter into his chest. “Don’t be sorry darlin’, please. Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“But I woke you,” you protest. “I scared you.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.” His breath tickles the skin of your neck. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He’s kissing you more fervently than normal. There’s something panicked about his movements, like he’s still worried that you might not be fine. 

You take a deep breath. “Lo?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can you stay with me?” You feel like a child, but you don’t care. You want to feel him. You need to be close to him. You can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. 

His legs tangle with yours. “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is a whisper now. 

You nod, pushing yourself further into him. “Need to feel you,” you say, running your hands along his back, his chest, his waist. You need him, every inch, every curve. All of him. 

“Darlin’,” he mutters. “What do you mean?”

You break away from him for just a second. His brows are furrowed. “Need you, Lo.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows. “You have me.”

“No Logan I-I—” You stutter. “I want you. Need you. I need you closer. Please.” 

His eyes search yours, his hands finding their way under your shirt. His fingers climb higher, stopping just below your chest, where the hem of your bra would be. 

You inhale deeply and press harder into him. “Please, Lo. Please.”

“Sweetheart, is this really what you want?” You can feel his breath against your lips. He’s so close, but not close enough. “That dream…” He pauses. “If this is only because of the dream…”

You shut your eyes, remembering what you saw. You feel a tear slide down your still-wet cheek. You breathe deeply. “Wanted you before the dream,” you murmur nervously. 

“Darlin’, you gotta be careful saying things like that.” He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. Your noses touch gently. He slots his legs higher between yours and pulls you closer. 

“Why?” You ask.

“Because I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you.” His hands become less hesitant, his fingers tracing the underside of your chest, slowly charting a course to your nipples. 

He opens his eyes, searching your face for consent, and you immediately nod. “I’m yours. Been yours the whole time.”

That’s all the permission he needs to bring his lips to yours, to hungrily swallow everything you’re willing to give him. His fingers gently pinch your nipples before drawing lazy circles around them. Your breath catches in your throat as his tongue slips across your lower lip. You open up and let him inside, savoring the taste of him. 

You’re still side by side, tangled up with one another, but it’s not close enough. You need more. 

“Logan,” you call, leaving one hand on his bare back as you let the other trail down his chest, to the hem of his sweats. But before you can get any further, he grabs your hand, freezing you in place. 

He shakes his head against yours. “Wanna take care of you.”

“But I wanna take care of you, too,” you whine. 

He just smiles. “You always do, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.” He drops your hand, and one of his own trails down your body, down to the ridden-up hem of your shirt—his shirt, actually—the one he left on the pillow. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.” He pulls it up, revealing your stomach and tits. One of his hands continues to massage your breasts, playing with your nipples, while the other travels back down to the hem of your panties. His fingers slip inside, sliding down through your folds and back up to your clit. You shudder under his touch. 

He starts to draw slow, lazy circles there. You can’t help but grind into his hand, needy for more. You whisper his name as his touch becomes harder, faster. 

“So fucking wet for me. Soaking already.” The whimper rising in your throat at his words is swallowed by another deep, desperate kiss. 

You hang onto him, your arms around his back as he pulls you closer to the edge. He can tell you need the contact, the closeness, and so he pulls away from your tits, his now-free hand slipping underneath you and snaking around your waist, holding you closer than before. Your chest is flush with his as his fingers rub harder at your clit. 

You can feel yourself coming undone, your hips rocking against him uncontrollably. “I’m so close,” you pant. 

“I know pretty girl,” he murmurs. He breaks away from your face, finding that spot in the crook of your neck that he loves so much. You throw your head back as his lips find purchase in the same area as always. “Doing so good for me. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

His whispers in your ear, his little bites and kisses against that spot on your neck, his fingers on your clit, it’s all too much. “Lo,” you whine, shutting your eyes and pressing your face into his shoulder. 

“That’s it, darlin’, let go.” 

That’s all it takes to have you seeing stars. You grind down onto his fingers, your hips still canting back and forth as you come undone. You can feel Logan smile against your neck as he slows down his pace. After a moment or two, his hand slips out of your panties and comes up to rest on your hip. 

You bring your forehead back to his. “You alright, sweetheart?” His low, husky whisper fills the air. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “Still want you, Lo.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks, his thumb brushing gently across your hip. 

You nod. “Need you closer.”

“Fuck,” he groans. His thumb hooks under the hem of your panties and he pulls them down your legs. You slip them off the rest of the way as Logan turns you on your back. You watch him above you, thumbs hooked inside his sweats. He pulls them down quickly, his cock springing up to his stomach in the process. Your eyes widen as you take in just how big he is. 

He pushes his sweats down the rest of the way, and he slots himself in between your legs. You can feel the length of him on the inside of your thigh. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl,” he grunts. His forearm rests next to your head, caging you in and keeping him steady, while his other hand guides his cock through your folds, teasing your entrance. 

“Logan,” you whine, your hands reaching up to his neck, pulling his face down to meet you. “I’m yours.” 

You gasp as he fills you up, his hand immediately reaching between your bodies to find your still-sensitive clit. His pace is slow at first, letting you adjust to his length, rocking into you gently. His thumb flicks your clit before drawing those same lazy circles from before. You’re already close, still drunk off the first orgasm he pulled from you. 

“So fucking tight,” he moans. “Doing so good for me.” You can feel him building speed, pumping in and out of you. He feels so good, rubbing against your walls, stretching you out. He’s so close, so real, so safe.

“Needed you so bad,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider, inviting him in. 

You can feel him throb inside you at your words. “Needed you too.” The sound of his voice pushes you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering around his cock. His circles on your clit are no longer gentle or slow. He thrusts faster, rutting into you hit after hit. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, shaking underneath him. “I-I’m so clo…” But you can’t finish your sentence. Your eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I’m here,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. Never gonna let you go.”

You take in a sharp breath. “’M’yours,” is all you can manage to say. 

“Mine,” he breathes, his hips rocking into you again and again. “Can feel you squeezing me, beautiful.”

“S-so close,” you choke in between thrusts. His fingers work harder on your clit, his lips moving against yours like they belong there, always. 

“Then let go, darlin’,” he says against your lips. He pushes deeper into you than before, your walls clamping down onto him. You feel heat rise to your chest as you shatter around him. You echo his name over and over again as you ride out your orgasm. You know he’s close behind, his thrusts faltering, growing sloppier with each pump. 

“W-where do you want—”

“Inside.”

“F-fuck,” he’s a choking, moaning mess as he comes undone inside you. You can feel him paint your walls, filling you up. He pumps in and out of you a few more times before he starts to slip out. 

“W-wait,” you stutter, grabbing him, holding him in place. 

He freezes. “You okay?” Concern is painted across his face, his brows furrowed, trying to discern what’s wrong. 

“J-just don’t want you to go,” you murmur. 

He smiles as he slides out of you. He pulls you tightly into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You shut your eyes as his hands settle on your lower back. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“I promise,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Relax. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

You can’t fight your exhaustion anymore, so you do as he says. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing, to his kisses on your forehead, to the tracing of letters and shapes along your back. 

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

The next morning, as pale light trickles through the curtains of your room, you see there’s no letter. No empty space next to you in the bed. 

There’s just Logan, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you tight against his chest. Your eyes flutter open. His are still closed. But he can tell you’re awake. 

“’M’not going anywhere,” he mumbles, still half asleep. “Too early. Go back to bed.”

He’s right. So, you do. 

tags: @seamlessepiphany

[theonottsbxtch]

FOREVER AND ALWAYS | MV1

an: military au go reeeee, my friend is currently talking to a marine so it makes this funnier, anyway this is a request and be prepared for how much im about to post, im posting all my wips so i can start a new

wc: 3.8k

THE LAST MORNING MAX spent in town was unseasonably warm for late September, but she still wore his old hoodie over her dress. It swallowed her, the cuffs rolled up clumsily so her fingers could peek through. Max liked seeing her in it; she made it look softer than it ever felt to him. They sat on the hood of his truck by the edge of the lake, the same spot they always went to when something big needed to be said.

“You’ll write, right?” she asked, her voice steadier than the fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve.

Max didn’t answer right away. He hated promises. He hated making them and breaking them even more. But he wasn’t going to break this one. “Every day,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I mean it, okay? You’ll be sick of me by Christmas.”

“I could never,” she said, and the words felt too small for how much she meant them.

The sun caught in her hair, and Max felt the ache of leaving settle deeper in his chest. He should’ve been relieved—one last night in this town, in that house—but all he could think about was how hard it was going to be to drive away from her in the morning.

“I’ll write back every time,” she promised, her eyes locked on his like she could hold him here through sheer willpower. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I won’t.”

It was the closest thing to forever they’d ever said to each other, and Max wanted to believe it could be.

He didn’t sleep much that night. Max stayed parked outside her house long after walking her to the door, watching the glow of her bedroom light until it finally went dark. He told himself he’d leave when she was asleep, but his hands stayed glued to the steering wheel, his heart beating louder than the crickets outside.

Morning came too fast. He stood on her porch in his pressed uniform, his duffel slung over his shoulder. Her dad answered the door, grunted something about “too early for this,” and disappeared back into the house. Max heard her footsteps upstairs, quick and light, and then there she was, rushing down to meet him, already wearing a smile he didn’t deserve.

“You’re really doing it,” she said, her voice tight with something caught between pride and fear.

“I am.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the crisp fabric of his sleeve. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

Max didn’t know how to answer that. He could handle the yelling, the rules, the miles of running. But leaving her? That felt like the first real battle.

“You’re the toughest guy I know,” she added softly, filling the silence.

“Tough’s not the same as okay,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Then I’ll be okay for both of us.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, wrapping around something fragile in his chest. He leaned down and kissed her, quick and desperate, like he could steal a little of her steadiness to take with him.

When they finally broke apart, she laughed softly, her forehead still resting against his. “You’re coming back, Max. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said.

He didn’t know if it was a promise or a prayer.

The bus station was quiet that early in the morning, just a couple of strangers milling around with their heads down and coffee in hand. Max stood off to the side with her, his duffel at his feet and his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep from grabbing hers. She said she couldn’t come, but watching him walk back to the truck made her call in sick for work and follow him in. 

“You should go sit,” he said, nodding toward the bench near the car park.

She gave him a look, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “I’m not leaving this spot until you’re on that bus.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. Of course she wouldn’t. She was stubborn like that, always had been. He loved her for it, even if it made saying goodbye harder.

The bus pulled up, its brakes hissing as it rolled to a stop. Max felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders, heavier than the duffel. This was it.

He turned to her, unsure of what to say. Every word that came to mind felt too big or too small.

“Write me first,” she said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but her eyes burned with determination. “As soon as you get there. Don’t wait for me to start.”

“I will,” he said, nodding. “Every day, remember?”

She smiled at that, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding on so tightly it felt like she was trying to anchor him there.

He let himself hold her back, burying his face in her hair for just a moment. He wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll see you after training,” she whispered against his chest, her voice shaking just a little. “I’ll be there, Max.”

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

The driver called for boarding, and Max grabbed his bag. He didn’t look back as he stepped onto the bus. He couldn’t. If he did, he might not get on at all.

But as the bus pulled away, he glanced out the window. She was still standing there, exactly where he left her, her hand raised in a wave he couldn’t return.

He pressed his forehead against the glass, the weight of her promise settling in his chest. She would be there. He had to believe it.

Training was relentless.

The early mornings were the worst—before the sun even thought about rising, before his body remembered how to move. They ran until their legs felt like they’d snap beneath them, did push-ups until their arms gave out, and marched under the weight of packs that felt heavier with every mile. The shouting never stopped, every mistake earning a punishment meant to break them down and rebuild them into something sharper, stronger.

But it was nothing compared to what Max had already endured.

At home, the yelling was never meant to make him stronger. The bruises weren’t badges of discipline—they were reminders of how small he was made to feel. Every time he hit the ground during training, his drill sergeant barking at him to get up, Max thought of how often he’d done the same thing in that house. He got up then, and he got up now.

The other guys complained at night, lying on their bunks and licking their wounds, but Max didn’t join in. They didn’t know how lucky they were—how much easier it was to run ten miles when there wasn’t a door slamming behind you or fists flying to match.

And then there were the letters.

Her first one came the day after he arrived, folded neatly into an envelope with her handwriting scrawled across the front. The sight of it made his chest ache, and he didn’t even wait to get back to the barracks to read it.

Hey, tough guy. I hope this gets to you quick. Are they making you run as much as I think they are? Do you miss me? I miss you. It’s been one day and this town already feels different without you. Keep writing, okay? I’ll keep writing too. Just don’t let them make you forget who you are, Max. I love you.

The letters became his lifeline. Every night, after lights-out, he’d sit on the edge of his bunk with a flashlight and write her back. He told her about the blisters on his feet, the meals that barely qualified as food, the drill sergeant who could make a grown man cry with a single word. But he also told her how he was getting stronger, faster, better—how he thought about her every time things got too hard.

She didn’t just write about missing him. Her letters were full of details—what their friends were up to, how the leaves were starting to change by the lake, what songs were playing on the radio. She made him feel like he wasn’t missing everything. Like she was keeping his place for him.

The days blurred together after a while, a constant cycle of exhaustion and repetition. But then, one morning, everything felt different.

It was the last day of training.

Max stood in formation with the others, the sun rising behind them as their drill sergeant paced in front of the line. They’d been through hell together—guys who had started as strangers now felt like brothers. But Max wasn’t thinking about them.

He was thinking about her.

He scanned the crowd of families waiting just beyond the training field, his heart pounding harder than it ever had during a run. She had said she’d be here. She promised.

And then he saw her.

She was standing near the back, craning her neck to see over the heads of taller people in front of her. When their eyes met, she smiled so brightly that for a second, everything else—the noise, the exhaustion, the fear—fell away.

Max’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to focus. One last task. One last push. He would finish this, and then he’d go to her.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to leave too soon.

Max’s heart hammered as the ceremony came to a close. The drill sergeant dismissed them with a sharp bark, and the tension that had held the recruits in place finally broke. Families surged forward, cheers and hugs filling the air. Max stood frozen for a moment, scanning the crowd again until he saw her pushing through the mass of people, her face a mix of determination and joy.

She was exactly how he remembered her, but somehow even better. Her hair bounced as she hurried toward him, and the familiar tilt of her smile made his chest ache. And yet, as soon as she stopped a few feet in front of him, she planted her hands on her hips like she had all the time in the world.

“Well, well,” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey there, tough guy.”

Max swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. But her teasing grin made the corner of his mouth twitch, threatening to break into a smile he wasn’t supposed to give just yet.

From behind her, one of his barrack mates, Danny came up and watched her as she eyed up Max. When she noticed him, he nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, I’m only young.” She stepped closer, looking at Max once more, her expression shifting to exaggerated awe. “That’s a whole lot of muscles you’ve got there now. What’ve they been feeding you?”

Max tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curving upward.

“You’re not supposed to touch the recruits until they’ve been tapped out,” Danny said, his voice low, playful.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Max’s attempt at staying serious. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to keep my hands to myself for a minute longer, huh?”

He held her gaze, the tension building between them until it was almost unbearable. She took another step forward, her smile softening into something sweeter, something he’d missed so much it hurt.

“Max,” she said quietly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear over the noise around them.

And then, finally, she reached out and tapped his shoulder.

That was all it took. Max didn’t hesitate—he dropped his duffel to the ground and swept her into his arms, lifting her clean off the ground. She laughed, but it broke halfway through, and then she was crying, her face buried in his shoulder.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice muffled against his uniform.

Max held her tighter, his eyes stinging as he pressed his cheek against her hair. “I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick.

For a moment, neither of them moved. She clung to him like she was afraid he might disappear, and Max let himself soak in the feel of her in his arms—the warmth, the softness, the familiarity he’d craved every single day he was gone.

When she finally pulled back, her hands stayed on his shoulders, her fingers brushing against the hard muscle beneath his uniform. She tilted her head, a teasing smile breaking through her tears. “Seriously, Max. What’s with these muscles? You didn’t look like this when you left.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, and shook his head. “Had to give you something to brag about, didn’t I?”

She laughed, swiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, I’m definitely bragging. You’re not going anywhere without me showing you off first.”

“Not going anywhere without you at all,” Max said softly.

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes filling again. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

He cupped her face gently, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Always,” she said, and for the first time in months, Max felt like he was finally home.

As they were about to kiss, a cough disrupted them. Danny. “Are you done?”

“Leave me alone Danny, I’ve seen enough of you.” Max laughed, pulling her in closer. 

“I’m heading out, my girl’s at the car but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Danny asked, taking off his hat and running his hand through it.

“Yeah you will. See you soon Dan.”

The desert heat was unrelenting, the sun beating down on Max and Danny as they sat outside their barracks during a rare moment of downtime. Max leaned against a wall, his cap pulled low over his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to shield him from Danny’s relentless teasing.

“You’ve been staring at that box for five minutes, man,” Danny said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “You sure you don’t want me to take it off your hands? I’d do a solid job proposing to her, you know.”

Max shot him a look, his jaw tightening, though there was no real heat behind it. “Touch it, and I’ll bury you in the sand.”

Danny snorted, tossing a rock lazily across the dusty ground. “Relax, lover boy. I’m just saying—you’ve had that ring for months. You’ve got the whole speech planned, don’t you? ‘I’ve loved you since we were kids, you’re my whole world,’ blah, blah, blah. Bet you even practiced in the mirror.”

Max rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box, flipping it open to reveal the simple but elegant ring inside. He didn’t need anything flashy—she wouldn’t want that. The ring was perfect: timeless, just like her.

“I don’t need a speech,” Max said quietly, running his thumb along the edge of the box. “She already knows. She’s known since before I left the first time.”

Danny’s teasing grin softened into something more genuine. “She’s a lucky girl, you know. Not everyone would stick around through all this.”

“She’s not sticking around,” Max corrected, his voice firm. “She’s living her life—uni, friends, everything she’s always wanted. She’s just...waiting for me to come back, too.”

Danny whistled low. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess you’re the lucky one.”

Max didn’t argue. He thought about her every day—her laugh, the way she scribbled little doodles in the corners of her letters, the photo she’d sent him of her sitting on the quad with her textbooks spread out around her. She looked happy, and that was what mattered most to him.

But God, he missed her.

“I’ll ask her when we’re off duty,” Max said, snapping the box shut and tucking it safely back into his pocket. “The next time I get to see her, I’m not waiting. I’m not wasting another minute.”

Danny grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs. “You’re gonna make me cry, man. I’m just glad I’ll be there to see it.”

“You’re not invited.”

“Like hell I’m not.”

They both laughed, the kind of laugh that felt rare in a place like this. For a moment, the heaviness of deployment lifted, replaced by something lighter—hope.

But when the laughter faded, Max’s mind drifted back to her. He pictured her sitting in a lecture hall, twirling a pen between her fingers, her hair catching the sunlight. She’d promised him that first day he left that she’d always be there waiting for him, and she had never broken that promise.

And soon—so soon—he’d finally get to make one to her.

The cab pulled up to her apartment building, a modest brick complex tucked onto a quiet street just off campus. Max stared out the window, his heart thundering in his chest. It didn’t matter that he’d seen her a year ago on leave or that they’d talked just last week on a grainy video call. Being here, knowing she was just a flight of stairs away, made it all feel brand new.

Danny’s words echoed in his head as he grabbed his bag and climbed out. Don’t mess this up, man. She’s been waiting long enough.

The door to her unit opened before he could even knock. There she was, framed in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She broke into a smile so bright it felt like the sun had come out, and before he could say a word, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Max!” she breathed, holding onto him like she never wanted to let go.

He dropped his bag and wrapped her up, burying his face in her hair. She smelled like home, like everything he’d missed.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice catching.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands sliding to his shoulders. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“I’m here.”

She laughed, the sound a little shaky, and grabbed his hand, tugging him inside. “Come on, I made dinner. It’s probably cold by now, but I didn’t want to risk leaving the kitchen in case—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Max stopped dead in the small kitchen, his eyes scanning the space—the mismatched dishes on the counter, the vase of sunflowers he recognised from her letters, the magnets on the fridge holding up her class schedule and pictures of them together. It was perfect.

And suddenly, he couldn’t wait.

“This wasn’t how I planned it,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?” She turned, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Max dropped to one knee right there in the middle of the kitchen, pulling the velvet box from his pocket. He saw her gasp, her hands flying to her mouth, but he was too focused to stop now.

“I wasn’t going to do it like this,” he said, the words tumbling out. “I had a whole plan—something big and romantic—but I don’t care about plans anymore. I just...I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I don’t want to wait another second to ask.” He opened the box, his hands steady despite the chaos in his chest. “Will you marry me?”

She froze, her wide eyes locked on his. The silence stretched, and Max felt a flicker of panic.

“So?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

That broke her. She let out a choked laugh, tears spilling down her cheeks as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “I’m sorry! I’m just—yes! Of course, yes!”

Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him fiercely, her tears wetting his face. Max held her close, the ring box forgotten on the floor as he kissed her back, pouring every bit of love and relief into the moment.

When they finally broke apart, she laughed through her tears, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You really couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Not for this,” he said, his voice low and raw.

She smiled and kissed him again, slower this time, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest. Max stood, lifting her with him effortlessly, and set her on the edge of the counter.

“Max,” she murmured, her hands slipping beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah?” he said, his forehead resting against hers.

“Welcome home.”

He smiled against her lips, capturing them in another kiss, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Max let himself feel it all—the love, the relief, the joy of knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Dinner had been a blur, both of them too giddy and caught up in the moment to care that the food was lukewarm and hastily reheated. They laughed, talked, and stole kisses between bites, the kind of easy affection that felt like they’d never been apart.

Now, hours later, they were tangled together in her bed. The room was dark save for the soft glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. She lay draped across his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin, her eyes fixed on the ring now resting snugly on her finger.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked quietly, her voice thoughtful but tinged with uncertainty.

Max’s hand came up to stroke her back, his thumb brushing along her shoulder blade. He let out a soft sigh. “I leave in three months.”

She stilled for a moment, her finger pausing mid-trace.

“But,” he added, his voice warm and steady, “until then, we live the happy life. All of it. You, me, late-night takeout, bad movies, everything.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “Three months isn’t that long, Max. And I’m still at uni. I’ve got two more years. How—”

“We’ve made it work for two years while I’m away,” he interrupted gently, cupping her cheek with one hand. “We can do two more. You’ve been with me through everything—every deployment, every letter, every call. This won’t be any different. Except now,” he added, his lips quirking into a small smile, “you’ll be my fiancée.”

Her lips trembled, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and deliberate, her hand slipping over his to hold it against her cheek. When she finally pulled back, her eyes shone with determination.

“You’re really bad at letting me be dramatic, you know that?” she teased softly.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed quietly, settling back against his chest, and Max tightened his arms around her. They lay there in silence for a while, her fingers once again toying with the ring as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real.

He was engaged.

He was happy.

And he was going to marry the love of his life.

the end.

[lizziesangel]

LOGAN HOWLETT - misunderstanding

x FEM!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request

WORD COUNT: 668

GENRE: little teeny tiny angst to fluff

CONTENT WARNING: soft!logan and i hate this sm

logan’s claws slid out with a distinct metallic sound, and he let out a low growl.

“for the last time, wade, i am not in the mood!” he barked, his gruff voice echoing through the corridor. he didn’t need to turn around to know it was deadpool—he could smell the obnoxious mercenary a mile away.

wade, of course, didn’t stop. he leaned against the doorframe, his red and black suit barely containing the sheer chaos of his personality.

“oh, come on, logan! lighten up, big guy. you’re like a grumpy cat with knives for hands. and just think—if you kill me, i’ll just come back! fun for everyone!” wade quipped, twirling one of his katanas like it was a baton.

“stay the hell away from me!” logan snapped, his claws retracting as he stomped away, only to find another mutant—probably jubilee—snickering behind a corner. it had been like this all morning: relentless teasing, poking, and general nonsense.

by the time he reached the kitchen, his patience was thinner than the ice wade probably wanted him to walk on. the smell of coffee offered a brief promise of peace, but his mood was far from salvageable.

and then you walked in, all warm smiles and sleepy eyes.

before you could even greet logan, he whipped around, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“for the love of—what now? can’t you people just leave me the hell alone for five seconds?” he roared, his deep voice booming in the small space.

the words cut through the air like his claws, and your face immediately fell. you hadn’t done anything—hadn’t even been awake for the chaos that morning—but his tone hit like a slap.

you nodded and turned on your heel and hurried out of the room. you weren’t angry or sad, just very confused.

his chest heaved as the words lingered, their weight settling uncomfortably in his gut. logan hadn’t even processed who he was yelling at until you were gone.

“ah, damn,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face.

wade popped his head into the kitchen, holding a finger up like a mockingly dramatic teacher.

“first rule of relationships, wolvermean: don’t yell at the cute one,” he said with a sing-song tone.

“get out before i break your neck,” logan grunted.

without another word, he stalked down the hallway, following the faint sound of your retreating footsteps. logan found you in your room, curled up on the bed with your back to the door. he knocked softly, the sound a stark contrast to the yelling from earlier.

“darlin’,” he called, his tone significantly softer than before.

you didn’t answer, and his chest tightened.

“look, i… i didn’t mean to yell at you. i thought you were one of those idiots tryin’ to mess with me again.” he leaned against the doorframe, his voice low and gruff. “i’m sorry.”

still, no answer.

logan sighed, stepping into the room. he sat carefully on the edge of the bed, not wanting to push you further away.

“i’ve just been… on edge this mornin’, but that ain’t an excuse.” his hand hovered over your shoulder, hesitant. “please look at me?”

you finally turned, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. the sight nearly broke him.

“you scared me,” you admitted quietly, and logan felt his heart twist.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll make it up to you, i swear. just… don’t stay mad at me too long, alright? i can’t take it.”

you bit your lip, the sincerity in his expression making it hard to stay upset. “you’re lucky i like you.”

a small smirk tugged at his lips. “i am. i know it.”

he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if to physically shield you from any further hurt—even if it came from him.

“next time, yell at wade,” you murmured against his chest.

logan chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “i will.”

“that’s a promise.”

[ha-rinrin]

Holding On

WARNING: This definitely counts as spoiler for act 3.

Summary: Jinx thinks she too far gone, but you think exactly the opposite.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 829

Authors note: I decided to cope with writing so I'm back guys :)

masterlist

The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of the explosives making everything feel heavier. Jinx stood in the center of the room, her body trembling with the weight of her thoughts. The bomb was in her hands—its cruel, ticking countdown echoing through her head, matching the frantic pace of her heartbeat.

She looked at the device, her eyes wild with something darker than madness. Her fingers were just inches away from pulling the trigger. The detonator. The end. She could feel it. The destruction. The chaos.

But there was something else too. Something so faint, you almost missed it—a desperation that even Jinx couldn't hide.

You didn’t know how you got here, only that you had to get to her before it was too late. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed into the room, your eyes locking onto her figure.

"Jinx!" you called, your voice strong, breaking through the sound of the countdown. She didn't look up. Not at first.

"Don't even think about it," you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the tense silence that had surrounded her. You knew you were running out of time.

Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with something you couldn't read, a whirlwind of anger, pain, and confusion. The bomb was still in her hands, her fingers trembling, but she didn’t move.

"You think you can stop me?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, raw. "You think I care?"

You took a step closer, your hands raised in a gesture of caution, but your resolve was unwavering. "I care, Jinx. I care more than you know. But this… this isn't you."

Her lips curled into a bitter smile, but her eyes betrayed her. They were glassy, unfocused. "Who else am I supposed to be, huh?" The words were jagged, broken, just like her. "I’ve lost everyone. I don’t even know who I am anymore."

"You're Jinx," you said, your voice softening as you took another step forward. "You're the girl I… I can’t lose, not like this." You swallowed, your heart aching with every word you spoke. "Please, put the bomb down."

For a long moment, she just stood there, her face unreadable, as though trying to make sense of the chaos in her mind. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but you heard it clearly.

"You’ve been the best girlfriend… the best person in my life. You know that, right?" Her hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she spoke, but you could see the hint of something breaking in her gaze. "I’m sorry… but I don't think I can keep going like this. I don't know how much more of me you can take."

"Jinx, no…" you breathed, stepping closer, your heart pounding as the weight of her words hit you.

"You deserve someone who can be whole," she continued, her voice cracking, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You deserve someone who can… stay. I don’t even know who I am anymore. But you—" She stopped, shaking her head, a faint laugh escaping her lips, bitter and broken. "You were everything. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"Don’t you dare," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not like this."

Her hand tightened on the detonator again, her fingers almost convulsing, but she was silent, the look in her eyes telling you more than any words could.

You couldn’t let her go, not like this.

“Please, Jinx,” you whispered desperately, your voice barely audible. "I need you. I love you. I can’t lose you. You don’t have to do this. You’re worth so much more than all of this. We’ll figure it out together. Please."

She looked at you then, her lips trembling, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. The bomb in her hand felt like nothing compared to the weight of the emotion that filled the room. She slowly lowered the detonator, her hands shaking as she clutched it loosely, a faint tremble passing through her.

"I'm too far gone," she said, barely above a whisper, her voice breaking. "But maybe... maybe I still have something left. I can't leave you alone"

You reached for her then, slowly, gently. She didn't flinch as you took her hand in yours, her fingers cold but now gripping you back, even if just a little.

"I can't let you go," you said softly, your voice trembling but firm. "Please... don't leave me like this."

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean against you, her body trembling. The bomb was still in her hand, but she wasn’t holding onto it anymore.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

And for once, there was no chaos. Just the fragile thread of connection between you, something both of you clung to as if it could mend the broken pieces. "You deserve everything," you murmured, your voice steady and sure. "And I’ll be here to remind you of that, every step of the way."

[zayneslady]

summary: it's been a while since the last time you saw him, but you missed him so terribly.

warnings: angst/comfort. Happy endings for the win *sobs* Pt. 2 of these scenarios

characters: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier x reader (separately)

a/n: I wanted to apologize. I got some comments saying that perhaps I wrote them a bit too ooc and that they wouldn't do something like this, so I was thinking maybe I should step out from writing these; I'm probably not understanding the characters very well. I'm really sorry! I had this one written already, so this is probably going to be the last post I make! Thank you for your support! In only a couple of days you guys were so amazing and loving, I'm super moved and I don't deserve you all at all ���️

classification: scenarios

tag list: many of you asked me to tag you in the second part, I hope you guys like it! 💕

@biitchyberry @rosaryia @lcheerymotion @mo0nforme

ZAYNE ❄️

It's been four weeks since your argument with Zayne. The first days had been like hell. You had already tasted the honey of a relationship with the person you liked the most and loved the most. You wanted more of him, you needed more. You felt anxious without him, like you had become addicted to his kisses, his gentle touch, and the sweet words he whispered in your ears. You missed him more than you dared to admit.

The days passed slowly, each second seemed to last an eternity. When you got home you felt the emptiness of his presence and you felt like dying, but life continued on, and eventually you got used to being without him. The pain was still present, but more bearable as time kept its course. 

You had stopped frequenting the places you knew he liked for fear of running into him. The dessert shop, the cafe near the hospital, the night stands near the library. You even avoided getting sick so you wouldn't have to go to the hospital. Your life was limited to going to work and coming straight home, with occasional visits to buy groceries. 

You would never have thought that you would have to live a life again without Zayne and only because he didn't know how to separate his friendships from his romantic partner. So smart, but so stupid at the same time. 

You sighed, returning to the present and the food you were making; it was too late when you realized it, but unconsciously you were making one of his favorite dishes. You weren't going to waste the food, so you just carried on trying not to think much about it. 

“Now, where did I put–,” you stopped, surprised by the sudden knocking on your door. You frowned, you were not expecting anyone, but the knocking continued once more and you sighed, turned off the stove. “I'm coming.”

You regretted opening the door. Opening just a crack to see who it was, your heart fluttered in your chest as if there was a small caged bird inside it. Zayne was standing in front of you. He looked ridiculously tired, more than you'd ever seen him. The bags and dark circles under his eyes were deep, his skin did not look radiant and healthy as always and his eyes did not shine like emeralds. 

Your hands were sweating and your insides were churning. "Are you okay?" You asked with a broken voice. Zayne shook his head and he fainted, but with a gasp, you quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and tried to keep him upright. “Zayne! Hey, what's happening?” 

Zayne didn't answer you, and just leaned on you. Not knowing what to do, you dragged him inside and carefully guided him to your room. Once there, you laid him down on your bed, he looked weak. 

“Zayne? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

He mumbled your name and your heart raced. “I'm… I am sorry,” he said as he finally passed out. You gasped, but soon heard the soft snores you were so used to. 

Was he that exhausted? And what was he doing at your house? You frowned, fighting back the stinging sensation in your eyes as you tried to hold back some tears. He really always appeared to stir everything inside you. You had already accepted your life without him, but here he was. You sighed heavily, taking off Zayne's shoes and covering him with a blanket.

Your eyes couldn't help but admire him. Even though he was tired, he still looked as handsome as ever. It seemed like a dream, an illusion that would disappear at any moment. You wanted it to happen. You wanted him to disappear, but at the same time, you wanted to take him in your arms and kiss his face. But no, clearing your throat, you grabbed an extra blanket and left the room, closing the door behind you. It was better to let him rest so he could leave as soon as he got up. 

The next morning you woke up to soft steps. Sitting up and whining a little after sleeping on the couch, you saw Zayne coming out from your bedroom. His hair was messy and he was rubbing one of his eyes like a little child, something warm spread across your chest and a smile tried to spread your lips, but you stopped it. He seemed more rested, the bags under his eyes had diminished considerably and his skin looked a little more alive. 

“Zayne.”

He seemed a bit startled as he looked at you with slightly wide eyes. “Hello… I am sorry I fell asleep.” 

You hummed, folding the blanket. “Haven't you been sleeping well?" You didn't want to sound worried, but you were. 

“I haven't… I constantly have nightmares and I've been working over time… a lot more."

“Why?”

“Because I can't stop thinking about you,” he said and despair filled his eyes. “You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I have been working nonstop so I can have my mind occupied, but you're always there, in the back of my head.” 

Don't cry. Don't cry! 

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Zayne?” You said coldly, wanting to get over with this. 

Zayne approached you and you couldn't move as he took your hands. “Please, please. Give me another chance. I swear. I swear in my life that I do not have feelings for her. I just… I was just stupid and took you for granted. Please, my love, please.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes and you cried even harder as Zayne grabbed your face. "N-No, don't touch me.”

“Please. How can I show you I truly want you? Do you want me to stop talking to her? I'll do it. I'll do it, so please. Just… please. I can't live without you.” His words sounded sincere.

His eyes were glassy and the pain on his face was evident, but your heart still hurt. How did you know that he really wouldn't leave you as a second option anymore? You couldn't even tell him to stop talking to Miss Hunter, you knew this was just Zayne's fault. 

“Zayne… Zayne you're hurting me so much.”

“I know. I know I am and I am terribly sorry for this. I love you. I truly love you.” 

You also loved him, so much. 

“... If this ever happens again, Zayne… I won't forgive you another time. Remember that.”

His green eyes shone with happiness as he pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, the tips of your fingers tingling as you felt his warmth, the tip of your nose digging into the crook of his neck, you breathed deeply, enjoying his scent. 

“You're on trial, Zayne.”

Zayne chuckled and he nodded. “Yes. You won't regret me, I promise you.”

RAFAYEL 🐠

Life was boring without him. He was the spark and the spice in your days. With him, every day seemed like a small adventure, but now that you no longer saw him, the days seemed dark and lifeless. You didn't even remember how much time had passed since that day. One week? Three days? Two months? You weren't sure and, honestly, you tried not to think about it too much because, even though you missed him, the pang of pain in your heart almost made you gasp for air every single time you recalled every moment with him. It was almost as if his bodyguard had also been there, on every date with Rafayel, for all of your conversations were about her. 

He was full of praise for her. He named each of her virtues and laughed affectionately at her defects. He didn't accept anyone claiming that they were better than her or stronger, because his precious bodyguard was the strongest and the bestest. Just thinking about it made you feel tears filling your eyes. You didn't want to remember any of it, but as you held your phone with your thumb hovering over the dial button, you couldn't stop thinking about how miserable Rafayel made you feel, even when he also made you feel like the most loved person in the world. 

When he didn't have his mouth full of his wonderful bodyguard, Rafayel showered you with affection. His kisses, his hugs, and his caresses all felt full of love and tenderness. His beautiful eyes looked at you sweetly, as if you were the most precious thing that ever existed on earth. He liked to tease you and make you laugh and he always said that you were like a muse for all his paintings: The sparkle in your eyes, the color of your hair, the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, everything was inspiration.

How could he be so cruel and loving all at the same time? Poor bodyguard, you even didn't like her although she hadn't done anything wrong, as far as you knew. 

Sighing, you finally tapped on the green button and your heart raced faster and faster at every beep coming from the other side of the line. Would he answer you? Was he… with her? Was he busy with one of his paintings? What if- 

His voice calling your name surprised you, making you jump. “I’m here! Hi!” he sounded out of breath and your cheeks blushed. “Hmm, h-how are you d-doing?” 

“Rafayel…,” you took a deep breath. “I… have some clothes at your place. Could I stop by later to get them?” 

“YES! I… I mean… yes. I'll- I'll be here all day. You can stop by at any time you want.”

“... Right. Then, see you there, Rafayel.” 

You let out a long sigh after hanging up. You had forgotten how wonderful his voice was and the way he pronounced your name. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were going to see him, you were really going to come again, but you shouldn't be excited. What if he and his bodyguard were dating? The thought made your stomach twist and you decided it was best to leave immediately. The quicker you finish this, the better. 

As always, the door was open, but you didn't immediately enter, your hands were shaking and your heart was racing against your ribcage. You didn't want to see him.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pushed the door open and you were greeted with that aroma that you had missed so much. The smell of acrylic paint, the sea and Rafayel's scent. You couldn't help but take a long breath- this exquisite smell felt like home. Your eyes watered a little, but you tried to stay calm as you walked deeper into the spacious house.

“R-Rafayel? Are you here? "You heard a gasp from the room and in a second, Rafayel appeared in front of you. Ah, he looked as wonderful and beautiful as always. His gorgeous eyes were wide, looking you up and down as his mouth stretched into a shy smile. You wanted to hug him. “The door… was open so I just- I'm sorry.”

“No! That's okay! I… I left it open for you!” 

You nodded. “I see… do you mind if I just…”

“No, go ahead, please.” You excuse yourself as you made your way to his room, as you passed by him you felt your legs tremble and you gasped in surprise when he suddenly took your hand.

“Rafayel, what-

“Please, forgive me,” he begged, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful expression. “I was absolutely wrong, you were so right. I was stupid and careless and hurt you so badly.”

“Rafayel… I just came for my clothing, let me g-

“Please!” He hugged you and you went stiff. “Please, please,” he sobbed in your ear. 

“Are you crying?” 

He nodded. “I can't live another second without you. I can't paint anymore. I feel like a piece of me has been taken away, I live half and barely. I really, really do not have feelings for my bodyguard. You're the only one I can think about.”

“Then why- 

“I just… I was just stupid, I didn't mean anything to hurt you, I swear! When I said I missed her, what I wanted to say is that I wanted to train with her, I would never make you train, that's too dangerous,” he started to explain in a rush. “When I told you about the candies, it's because she gave me some amazing chocolate I wanted to gift you and then-

“Rafayel-

“Please. Just this once, I swear,” he said, finally showing his reddened face, tears streaming down his face. You gulped, reaching up to clean his tears away and he whined. “I wasn't there to wipe your tears, I am so sorry.” 

That made you burst into tears. That's right, you really wanted him to wipe your tears. He gently cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching all of those tears falling from your pretty eyes. 

“You can break up with me if I do something like that again! But please… just this once. I love you so much. I really do.” 

You looked at him, His eyes were still wet and some tears were still falling down his cheeks. Maybe…

“Just this once, Rafayel… I won't forgive anything like this ever again.” He beamed and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, but you covered his mouth, frowning slightly. “I'm still mad at you.”

He blinked and gently smiled behind your hand before taking it in his. “Of course, I'll prove myself to you, beautiful creation.” 

XAVIER ⭐

You couldn't sleep. It's been two weeks since you last slept properly. Two weeks ago you were in Xavier's arms and he held you lovingly, whispering words of comfort in your ears. You weren't sure why, but being around Xavier always made you feel relaxed, a little sleepy, but never bored. You loved spending lazy times with him, taking naps and frolicking in bed, giggling like fools and giving each other soft, tender kisses. 

With his warmth and love it was not difficult to fall asleep at night, he always wanted to sleep so that tranquility that emanated from him was enough to relax you and make you sleep throughout the whole night. In the mornings you felt rejuvenated and full of life and seeing his sleepy smile was like living in a dream. 

You felt your bottom lip quiver into a pout. You missed him too much. You never thought he would behave that way. Had you never really been important to him? If he wanted to be with his partner so much, why had he even agreed to go out with you in the first place? 

“Agh! I hate you Xavier!” You cried, banging your fists against the table in your kitchen. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?” Maybe you really had gone crazy, talking to the table like that. 

There was no time for this. It was almost dark and you still needed to go buy some groceries for your dinner. You struggled out of your house, so tired and dragging your feet. You wanted to sleep... with Xavier. You wanted to feel his warmth. But... what if he now wrapped his partner in his arms? Your cheeks turned red and, trying to avoid thinking about it, you hurried to catch the bus. 

You found a seat near the door and next to a young man, there weren't as many people as you imagined and as the bus started to go you felt your eyes heavy. Maybe... you could sleep for a few minutes? The store wasn't far away, so just a few minutes... just a couple of minutes… 

You heard your name being called between clouds. From far away. Over and over and over. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

“Hmm?” You opened your eyes and gasped, How long had it been?! Where were you? And... why was your head...? Had you fallen asleep on someone's shoulder?! "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" You said, raising your head only to find that the young man next to you... "Xavier?!" 

The hunter blinked, his eyes avoided yours for a second before looking directly at you and nodding a small greeting. Had he been there next to you the whole time? You could barely notice what was happening around you with how tired you were, but, strangely, you felt very good. It seemed like he really was the cure for all your ills. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. Xavier looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side like a little bird. 

“I'm sorry, Xavier. I didn't know you were there,” you jumped, “but wait, where are we?!” Checking outside the window, you could tell you were far away from the store now. 

“We're almost at my place,” he said gently and the alarms in your head set off. His partner... didn't she live in the apartment below?! Oh no. Before, you had no problem staying at Xavier's house, but... if they were really in a relationship…

“I gotta go,” you said, seeing the next bus station. It was already dark outside.

“Where are you going?” Xavier asked and you frowned.

“What do you mean? Back home. I only wanted to go to the store, but I fell asleep as you could see… Now it's even dark. Thankfully it's not raining,” you were babbling to yourself as you waited to arrive at the next stop, when you finally did, you got up. “Sorry about that, Xavier. Goodnight.” 

"Now... The next bus…," you mumbled checking the bus's schedule. "10 minutes? Lucky~"

“I'll go with you.” 

You couldn't help but squeal and jump when you heard his voice right behind you. Turning around, you saw him standing there, as tall as he was and as bright as the stars. 

“I'll take you home. It's dark. Something could happen.”

You rolled your eyes. "What could happen, I'm only going home.” 

“Some witnesses have seen wanderers in the area. I can't let you go alone." 

You sat on the bench, arms crossed, Xavier sitting next to you. "Ah, that's true. I'm not strong like your... Forget it." Your cheeks turned red. Very well! Keep opening your big mouth! Xavier didn't say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you and the blush on your cheeks traveled to the tips of your ears. 

Silence reigned between you. You could feel him, his warmth, he was so close to you, you could reach out and touch his knee. Your eyes felt heavy, you wanted to hug him. 

“I am sorry,” he suddenly said and you thought you imagined it but then he repeated it. “I am sorry for what I said the other day.” You turned to look at him and flinched when he saw his bright eyes looking sad and red. “I don't know what I was thinking. Talking like that in front of my girlfriend. Acting like I didn't want to have been there with you, but you're the only person I want close to me. I don't like nor have feelings for my coworker, I only want and need you.” 

He gently wiped a tear from your rosy cheek, his touch was electrifying. 

“You haven't been sleeping well.” You didn't answer, but he continued. “I haven't been able to sleep either. I keep recalling that day and seeing your crying face, I can't stand it… please forgive me.” 

He took your hands and you finally looked up at him, your eyes widening as you saw a small tear fall down his cheek. 

“I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I still beg you, I beg you to give me another chance. I promise I'll do better. Something like this will never happen again. I was an idiot." 

You frowned, “you were an idiot. Do you have any idea how you made me feel? It's hard to believe you love me.” 

He nodded, listening to you carefully. “I know it's hard to believe, but please let me prove it to you, let me show you how much I love you, please. I can't be without you anymore, my star. I need you, otherwise I'll go crazy. Please.” 

You sobbed and Xavier gently pulled you close to him. Wrapping you between his warm arms. You tried to pull away, but he didn't let you and soon you melted in his embrace, crying into his work clothes. 

“Please, give me another chance.” 

You nodded softly. Just one more chance. “There's not gonna be a second time,” you warned between sobs and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. 

“I won't need them. I will treasure you as the most valuable thing that you are. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

[thef1diary]

riddle me this: how would dirtbag danny react if you came home after a date with another guy? I can imagine him being so demeaning, pitying you since you thought you needed a safer and reliable guy, opposite of daniel basically

(also I’m the same anon from the beer chugging vid, can I be 👩🏻‍🦽anon <- that’s us after a night with dirtbag danny btw)

Nice Isn’t Enough | Dirtbag!Danny

— hi nonnie! so glad you’re back w more dirtbag!danny filth 🤭 yes you can absolutely be 👩🏻‍🦽anon, your reason made me giggle ngl

warnings: 18+, name calling, lotssss of degradation, dirty talk, thigh riding, cruel cruel danny but that’s expected atp

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your latest thoughts and click here for the rest of my blurbs/fics

You entered your apartment, kicking off your heels with a sigh, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips. The date had gone well enough—pleasant conversation, a sweet kiss at the door, and the comforting warmth of normalcy. But just as you let out another sigh, the calm surrounding you shattered the second you heard his voice.

“Aw, was it that bad?”

Your head snapped up. Daniel’s voice dripped with condescension, low and smug, like he’d been waiting for this moment all night. He’s sprawled across your couch—legs wide and spread, the hem of his shorts inching dangerously high on his thighs with every lazy shift of his body. One arm is draped over the backrest with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. He doesn’t look at you immediately, his eyes fixed on the label he’s peeling off, but the smirk tugging at his lips is unmistakable.

“You didn’t even invite him in?” He finally glanced up, his honey brown eyes flicking over you from head to toe, taking in the silk dress that hugged your curves, the faint flush still blooming on your cheeks. His gaze lingered, slow and deliberate, before he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t go as well as you thought, huh?”

Your heart stuttered for a moment—not from fear, but from the sheer audacity. You blinked, caught off guard by both his presence and the sting of his words. “What are you doing here, Daniel?” you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you can.

He leaned back into the cushions, utterly at ease in your space. “What am I doing here?” he echoed, as if the answer should be obvious. “You forgot about our plans for the night.” He shrugged, taking a lazy sip from his beer, the smirk never leaving his face. “And you’re very predictable with your extra key placement, by the way.”

Your stomach twisted. He let himself in. Like it’s nothing. Like you belonged to him—or worse, like your space does.

“I didn’t forget anything,” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest as if that can shield you from the pull of him. “Because we didn’t have plans.”

Daniel’s smirk widens as your lie hangs in the air. He knows. He somehow knows.

“Didn’t have plans, huh?” he murmured, setting the beer bottle down on the coffee table with a soft clink. He rises slowly with the kind of confidence that makes the room feel smaller. Every step he took towards you is measured, deliberate, and your breath catches in your throat despite yourself.

He stopped just a few inches away, the heat of his presence pressing into your skin, the scent of beer, leather, and something deeper—something rich, masculine, and entirely him—invading your senses.

“So,” he started, voice slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every word. “How was it?” His gaze swept over your face again, lingering on the faint blush still warming your cheeks before noticing the smudge of lipstick from the kiss at the door. “Your little date.”

You took a breath, steadying yourself, refusing to let him rattle you. “It was fine.”

Daniel chuckled softly, a low, mocking sound. “Fine,” he echoed the word like it’s a punchline. “Of course, it was fine. I bet he was a real stand-up guy. Steady job, clean car, probably held the door for you, didn’t he?” His grin widened as he brushed his lips against your ear, “real safe.”

You don’t rise to the bait. Not yet. “He was nice.”

“Nice,” Daniel repeated, almost whispering it like it was the dirtiest word he’s ever heard. His hands found your hips, fingers curling around them, the pads of his thumbs rubbing slow, lazy circles against the silky fabric of your dress. “Sure. Nice. Polite, respectful. Asked about your day.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, each word a carefully placed jab. “Took you to some boring-ass restaurant where the biggest thrill was picking between red and white wine, right?”

Your jaw tightened, and you could feel the heat rising in your face. His smirk only widened, feeding off your barely concealed irritation.

“But tell me something,” His voice lowered, rough and edged with something darker. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you just the slightest bit closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “Did he look at you like he wanted to tear this dress off you right there in the middle of dinner?”

You blinked, lips parting, but no words came.

Daniel’s eyes searched yours even though it seemed as if he already had the answer. “Did he make you feel it?” His voice is a murmur now, his lips so close to yours you can feel the ghost of his breath. “Like you couldn’t breathe unless his hands were on you?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath shallow, but you stood your ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words affect you.

“Or,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth, “did he kiss you goodnight and send you home, like a good girl, with a pat on the head and a promise to call?”

Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms to prevent yourself from giving into his kiss, but you refused to look away. “Not everyone is like you, Daniel.” The words are meant to be defiant, but they come out softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

Daniel’s smirk returned, wicked and knowing. “No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze fully. “Not everyone can be.”

The air between you crackled with tension, a push and pull neither of you wanted to admit to but can’t seem to escape. His hands remain on your hips, grounding you, teasing you, as if he’s daring you to break the silence.

“Let me guess,” he murmured. “He wouldn’t even know what to do with you. Bet he touched you like you were made of glass when he kissed you.” His eyes flicked back up to yours, daring, taunting. “Think he’d fuck you like you want? Like you deserve?”

Your cheeks flushed hot, and you hated the way your body reacted to his words, to the heat in his gaze, to the way his voice wrapped around you and pulled you in.

“Daniel,” you muttered, but it's weak, barely audible.

“Am I wrong?” Daniel stepped back, just a little, his hands falling away from your hips, leaving you cold in his absence. He gives you enough space to breathe, but not enough to escape the weight of his presence.

You swallowed hard, the absence of his touch both a relief and a frustration. His words lingered in the air, hanging over you, daring you to deny them. But you don’t. You can’t.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice low and lazy, like he’s already won. “When you get bored of nice… you know how to reach me.”

He turned, ready to leave, the air between you still buzzing with unspoken tension. But before he could take too many steps away, your voice cut through the silence, soft but firm.

“Daniel. Wait.”

He paused, his back to you, shoulders tense as if he’s waiting to see if you’ll take it back. Slowly, he turned, his gaze locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, every nerve in your body on edge. “You’re right.”

His brow arched, the smirk growing just a fraction. “About what?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. Finally, you whispered, “Everything.”

Daniel takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s standing in front of you again. He reached out, his fingers catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, unreadable, the smirk on his face both infuriating and intoxicating.

“Gotta tell me more than that, sweetheart,” he drawled, his thumb brushing over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “Praise a guy, will ya?”

You inhaled shakily, your eyes locked on his. “I don’t want nice,” you admitted softly, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them. “I don’t want to settle, or something safe and reliable. I don’t want…him.”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. His thumb lingers on your chin, teasingly light, but his eyes—those dark, relentless eyes—hold you in place. “Yeah?” he murmured, the mockery evident in his tone. “Guess nice didn’t quite do it for you, huh?”

You shook your head slightly, the tension between you crackling like static. “It’s not enough,” you whispered, barely recognizing your voice.

He hummed in satisfaction, tilting his head as if to study you, figuring out just how far you’re willing to go. “Thought you might come around,” he said softly. “Nice is good for a Sunday brunch with your parents. For hand-holding and little promises that don’t mean shit. But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

You don’t answer, but your silence is enough. He sees it, feels it in the way you lean in ever so slightly, drawn to the heat of him, the pull you’ve been resisting for far too long.

“Come here,” he whispered, stepping back toward the couch and guiding you with him. His hands find your hips again, pulling you down onto his lap, your knees settling on either side of him. The intimacy of the position stole your breath, but you didn't pull away.

You hover inches away from his lips, your breath mingling with his, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. His hands grip your hips, firm and possessive, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. Your heart raced, every nerve in your body screaming to close the distance, to give in.

But before you do, you pressed your hands against his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt. “This doesn’t mean I’m in love with you,” you said sharply.

Daniel chuckled, low and mocking, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Good,” he replied, amused. “Because I’m not in love with you either.” His fingers tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Why would I want that?” His voice is smooth, dripping with pity and condescension. “Love’s not really your thing anyway, is it? Or mine for that matter.”

Heat creeped up your cheeks, both from his words and the infuriating smirk on his face. You should push him away, should walk out, but instead, you do the exact opposite.

You kissed him.

It’s not tentative or gentle—it’s fierce, all-consuming, a kiss that feels like surrender and defiance all at once. His lips are warm, demanding, and he meets your desperation with his own, his hands moving from your hips to the small of your back, holding you tight against him.

Your dress was already rising, the fabric sliding higher as you shifted against him, your knees pressing into the couch on either side of his hips. His fingers slipped under the hem, pushing it up and over your waist with ease, leaving you bare save for the black lace of your panties.

He pulled back just enough to drink you in, his dark eyes roaming over you like you’re something he owned. Your thighs are bare and trembling against the heat of him. His gaze drops to the lace barely covering you, his smirk curling into something cruel, something wicked.

“Now,” he breathed, his voice thick with mockery, “why don’t you show me just how fucking done you are with nice?”

Before you could respond, his hand was already between your legs, rough fingers hooking under the delicate lace covering your pussy and yanking it to the side, baring you completely. The cool air hits your cunt, making you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes darkened as he took you in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His fingers slide between your folds, slow and deliberate, parting you with a precision that’s designed to drive you mad. He doesn’t give you what you want—not yet. Instead, he toyed with you, dragging his fingertips through your slickness, barely brushing your clit before pulling away again, leaving you aching and desperate.

A soft, involuntary whimper escapes your lips, and he catches it, smirking like he’s already won. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and filthy. “Already dripping for me, huh? Guess nice really wasn’t cutting it.”

His fingers returned, this time rougher, sliding through your slick heat, spreading it over you, coating you in your own arousal. He pressed the pads of two fingers against your hole, teasing you with the barest hint of pressure before pulling back once again, making you grind your hips in frustration.

Daniel chuckled, dark and condescending, his grip on your hip tightening to keep you exactly where he wants you. “Patience, sweetheart,” he mocked, his lips curling into a cruel grin. “You want to get fucked like you deserve? You’ve gotta earn it.”

Without warning, he shifted your hips, forcing you down onto his thigh—his bare, tattooed thigh—and the heat of him against your slick folds sent a jolt of pleasure through you. He pressed you down, grinding you against him, the roughness of his skin dragging against your clit, making you gasp.

“Yeah,” he groaned, his voice pure sin. “Just like that. Go ahead—ride it. Show me how desperate you really are.”

You don’t even think—you just move, instinctively grinding down against his thigh, chasing the friction, the heat, the overwhelming need coursing through you. Each drag of your slick folds against the hard muscle of his thigh sends sparks shooting through your body, your clit throbbing with every rock of your hips. You’re a mess already, and you know it, but you don’t care. Not anymore. Pride, shame—none of it matters now. All you can focus on is the pleasure building inside you, desperate and raw.

Daniel knows it too, and he revels in it. His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, controlling the pace as if he owns you.

“Look at you,” he sneered, voice low and dripping with disdain. His hands slid up your sides, rough and deliberate, until they reached the neckline of your dress. Without hesitation, he pulled the fabric down, exposing your bare tits to the cool air and his heated stare. His thumb brushes over one hardened nipple, making you gasp, before he pinches it roughly, just to hear the sound you make.

“Fuck,” he drawled, eyes flicking between your flushed face and your exposed chest. “Imagine if your date saw you like this—grinding on me like a desperate little slut.” His smirk deepened, cruel and knowing. “Think he’d still ask you out again? Or would he see you for what you really are? My filthy, needy little whore who can’t get off unless someone makes her earn it.”

His words cut deep, filthy and degrading, and they ignite something inside you, something dark and hungry. You can feel the heat of his thigh against you, the pressure building with every roll of your hips, and it’s maddening. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Bet he’d be fucking shocked, huh?” Daniel continued, his tone dripping with condescension. “Good girls like you aren’t supposed to act like this. But here you are—tits out, soaking my thigh, and fucking yourself like you can’t help it.” His hands tighten on your hips, forcing you down harder, grinding you deeper into him. “Such a fucking pretty mess. Keep going, sweetheart. Show me how much you love being dirty for me.”

Your movements grew frantic, driven by the overwhelming mix of sensations—the rough drag of his skin against your soaked folds, the burning heat of his thigh flexing beneath you, each hard muscle shifting and tightening as if made just to ruin you. He bounces it once, twice, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, and a helpless moan tumbles from your lips, loud and shameless.

“Yeah,” Daniel groaned, watching you with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “That’s it. Let me hear how desperate you are.” His hands roam over your body, possessive and rough, sliding up to cup your tits, squeezing them in his large, calloused hands. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, rolling and pinching the sensitive peaks, making you arch your back and grind harder against him.

“Go on dates with any guy,” he murmured, lips brushing against your ear, voice taunting. “But I know you’ll always come back to me for a good fuck.”

Your breath stuttered, every nerve in your body screaming for release, and you whimpered his name. His smirk deepened, a cruel, triumphant twist of his lips.

“You’re so desperate for a good fuck, aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes dark and full of sin. “You want more, don’t you? You want my cock.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, pressing down lightly. “Be a good, obedient slut for me, and maybe I’ll give it to you. I know how much you love it—how much you need it filling you up.”

The promise, the filth in his words, makes a loud whine leave your lips, his name spilling repeatedly. Your hips jerk against his thigh, chasing more, needing more.

“Mm, that’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Say my name. Scream it.”

His thigh flexed again, and you rode it harder, grinding down with desperation, your wetness slicking his skin. You’re close—so fucking close—and he knows it. His eyes burn with amusement and something darker as he leans in, his teeth grazing your jaw before his tongue flicks out to taste you.

“Think he stuck around outside?” Daniel’s voice is a low rumble, thick with arrogance. “He probably heard you if he did. Every little moan. Every scream.” His words sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through you, the humiliation and pleasure intertwining, tightening the coil in your pussy.

“He should’ve come inside,” he continued, biting down gently on the curve of your neck, making you gasp. “Wanted to show him how you beg for me. How you fall apart on my thigh. How you’re mine to fuck.”

Your hips bucked uncontrollably, grinding against him with frantic need. His fingers dig into your waist, guiding your every movement, every desperate thrust. He bounced his thigh again, the rough drag of his skin against your swollen clit sending you spiraling over the edge.

“Look at you,” he breathed, eyes locked on yours, watching every tremble, every shudder. “Such a pretty little slut, using me to get off. So fucking wet—so fucking needy.”

Your vision blurred, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cry out his name, loud and broken, just like he wanted. His hands hold you steady, his thigh flexing beneath you one last time, drawing out every shiver, every whimper, until you collapse against him, spent and trembling in his arms.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, your body trembling as he dragged every last aftershock from you.

You shifted slightly, your head resting against his shoulder, heart pounding, breath shaky. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, cocky triumph.

“See?” he whispered, lips curling into a smirk that’s both dangerous and devastating. “You don’t need nice. You just need me.”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip one last time, slow and deliberate, before he leaned in close, his mouth grazing your ear.

“And you’ll be back, sweetheart,” he breathed, the promise dark and certain. “Because you always come back.”

taglist: @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @evasmlp @mycenterfold @uhhvictoria @kaorisakamotofan @alice-went-away @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @kigieri @lilorose25

[meracyn]

ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

sypnosis. after a painful breakup that left you mentally scarred, you're forced to see kwon again, this time at the sekai taikai tournament. after successfully avoiding him many times, he finally got you to himself. the question is- will you go back to him again?

warnings. cursing, female reader & part of miyagi-do. kind of angst? the other 2 parts are up! click these; two, three

You arrived at the bar with the rest of the Miyagi-Do members. After many hours of rough training sessions and competition at the Sekai Taikai tournament, you all agreed it was fair to have some fun for a while.

The music blared through the speakers, every vibration being sent to your body. It was pretty full, but you weren't going to let that prevent you from having fun. Robby and Miguel went off on their own, as well as Demetri and Hawk. Devon had stayed back since she claimed to feel unwell, leaving you, and the female captain of your dojo alone.

You made your way to an empty spot, when you heard an all familiar voice call out to you. Looking up, you saw Sam, who sat next to you on the table, offering you a drink. "Here, you did great today by the way." She said with a smile.

Taking it from her hand, you took a sip. "Thanks, you did too." Not long after, Sam excused herself to take some fresh air outside, reassuring you she wouldn't take long.

As you were left alone, you eventually got bored and decided to go up to the bartender and order a stronger drink, which was probably a bad idea as you ended up drinking more than you intended to. Your vision was slightly blurred and your head was starting to throb.

"Ugh.." You groaned, pressing a hand against your forehead as you tried to walk out of the bar, stumbling on the way before you bumped against someone. Muttering an apology, you took a step forward when a hand grabbed your arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp, low voice practically hissed at you. You felt your heart stop as you recognized the voice all too well, bringing back painful memories you thought were already gone. You tried to get out of their grasp, but their hold became much more firm, making you unable to leave.

"Let me go," You said, your tone coming off more aggressive than you thought.

"And let you be with those guys who are practically eyefucking you?"

Clenching your fist, you finally looked up. Like you figured out, it was Kwon.

Memories of the breakup flooded your mind, reminding you of the pain you felt back then. It only made your head hurt even more–and your heart, too.

"I can handle myself, thanks." You mumbled, taking the opportunity to remove your hand away from his touch. "I don't have anything to talk to you about."

Kwon reached out to hold you again, this time an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. "Actually, we do need to talk."

You shook your head in anger, attempting to get him off of you. Kwon dipped his head low in response, his lips beside your ear. "Do you really want to cause a scene right now?" He asked, his tone sending you shivers down your spine.

You reluctantly stopped moving, as Kwon took your hand and led you out of the bar, headed towards a dark alley. The air was very chilly, a stark contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere. As soon as Kwon stopped walking, you yanked your hand out of his.

"Why did you even bring me here?"

"I didn't think you would be at the Sekai Taikai."

"But I am, what about it?"

"You keep avoiding me."

"Yeah. The same reason you ended our relationship turned out to be in vain." You retorted, voice wavering slightly. The alcohol was starting to affect you more by the second, causing you to hold onto the cold, rough wall behind you.

Kwon took a step closer to you, faint hesitation flickering in his eyes for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. "Remember those nights we spent together?" He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome your senses. "Kwon..don't.." You said quietly.

"Let us try again," Kwon persisted. "Give me another chance..yeah?" He murmured, bringing your face closer to his. Your breath hitched at his actions, heart pounding.

"We can't." You pushed him away from you, making him slightly surprised. "We're in different dojos now. Focus on yours, and I'll focus on mine." Before you could continue any further, Sam spotted the both of you and quickly rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder as she glared at the male in front of you.

"Get out. Don't you dare get any closer to her." She threatened, before turning to look at you, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. let's just go." You replied while avoiding Kwon's burning gaze. Sam nodded, letting you hold onto her for support as she led you out of the place.

You couldn't look back, fearing you would break and go back to him. Although deep down, you knew Kwon would do his best to do just that.

[blackenedsnow]

can you do a keatlejuice x fem reader who passes out a lot due to illness?

faint of heart

WARNING: Mentions of fainting due to illness

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x (Fem) Reader

NOTE: Love this idea! I have this problem as well, just not due to illness. So I hope it wrote it decently enough.

SUMMARY: You’ve been dealing with a medical condition that causes you to faint more often than you'd like. Luckily (or unluckily), Beetlejuice, is always nearby when it happens.

You were used to the feeling by now—the lightheadedness that crept in without warning, the sudden exhaustion that drained the strength from your limbs. Still, no matter how accustomed you were to your illness, it didn’t make it any easier when the world around you started to blur and tilt on its axis. It was happening again, the familiar darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision.

“Damn it…” you muttered, swaying on your feet as you reached out to steady yourself against the wall.

Unfortunately, the wall wasn’t much help, and neither was your body. You could already feel yourself slipping, your knees buckling under you as you collapsed. Just before the darkness fully swallowed you, a voice broke through the haze—raspy and loud, with a hint of annoyance.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up there, sweetheart!”

And then, everything went black.

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the sensation of being cradled in someone’s arms—scratch that, not someone. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know who it was. The smell of dirt, mildew, and that faint hint of something otherworldly told you everything you needed to know.

“Beej,” you groaned softly, trying to sit up, though a wave of dizziness made you reconsider.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha,” Beetlejuice’s voice came from above you, and you felt yourself being jostled slightly as he adjusted his grip on you. “Don’t go makin’ it a habit to pass out every time you see my face. I know I’m hot, but c’mon.”

You blinked up at him, his wild hair and striped suit filling your vision as you tried to focus. He was holding you, bridal-style, with a grin plastered on his pale face that was just shy of mischievous.

“Y’know, I could’ve just let you hit the floor. But nooo, I’m the good guy here, right? Heroic ghost with the most, swooping in to save the day.”

You sighed, shaking your head weakly. “Thanks, Beej… but you’re really not a hero.”

He scoffed, his grin widening. “Sure I am! Who else is gonna catch you when you go timber like that? Nobody cares for ya like I do, babe.”

As much as you hated to admit it, there was some truth to his words. Despite his odd personality and penchant for making a scene, Beetlejuice was always there when you needed him. No matter how irritating he could be on a daily basis, when it came down to moments like these, he never failed to show up. Somehow. At the perfect time.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his voice dropping into something that almost sounded like concern, though he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. “You gotta stop doin’ this. You’re startin’ to freak me out.”

You managed a weak chuckle, patting his chest. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, I know.” Beetlejuice let out a huff, shifting you in his arms as he looked down at you with those mismatched eyes. “Still doesn’t mean I gotta like it. I mean, who’s gonna laugh at my jokes if you’re passed out half the time, huh?”

“You’re plenty funny without me,” you teased, though your voice was still quiet and a bit shaky.

“Nah,” he smirked. “I’m only funny ‘cause you laugh at all my dumb shit.”

For a moment, you both went into a comfortable silence. Sure, he was Beetlejuice—weird, loud, and often over-the-top—but beneath all that was something softer, something that genuinely cared about you. He wouldn’t admit it outright (that wasn’t his style), but the way he stayed close during your fainting spells, the way he always made sure you were okay, said more than his snarky comments ever could.

“You okay now?” he asked after a beat, setting you down gently on the couch. “You need anything? Water? Smelling salts?”

You shook your head, leaning back into the cushions as you took a few deep breaths. “I’m alright… just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, dollface,” he said, plopping down beside you, legs crossed and his elbow resting on the back of the couch. “But hey, if you feel like passin’ out again, at least let me know so I can catch ya in a cool way next time. Maybe do a little spin, toss ya over my shoulder—y’know, something real dramatic.”

You smiled at him, grateful for the way he could turn even the scariest moments into something almost light-hearted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Beetlejuice winked, tapping the side of his nose. “That’s my girl.”

[wavypotatochips]

Elevator Mishap || Central Cee

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : CentralCee x Female reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : You find yourself trapped in an elevator with a mysterious stranger who turns out to be the famous rapper Central Cee in disguise. [FLUFF/ LIGHT TENSION]

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵  

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HIIIII GUYS omg so much stuff has happened personally in my life but I am back and better!! Central Cee is so fine and I just always wanted to write something with him lol. Its been a while since I have wrote something, so bare with me c': I have no requests, so feel free to send some in! 

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

"I find it hard to believe I'm actually here," you murmur under your breath, a mix of disbelief and disinterest coloring your tone as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. While most girls would gush with excitement at the prospect of attending a Central Cee concert in the UK alongside their best friends, Stacey and Rosalina, you find yourself unable to share in their fervor. The trio, inseparable since middle school, practically dragged you along when they scored free tickets to the concert, complete with all expenses paid. Despite their infectious enthusiasm for Central Cee, you couldn't summon the same level of excitement, feeling rather indifferent towards his music. Meanwhile, your best friends are back in the hotel room, immersed in making TikToks while belting out Central Cee's tunes. You made an excuse about needing to run down to the convenience store on the ground floor to grab a snack, eager to escape the impending festivities. As the elevator doors finally slide open, you step inside, your mind already elsewhere, contemplating the potentially underwhelming night ahead, especially given your lack of interest in the artist.

Absentmindedly humming to yourself, you press the button for the ground floor before casually leaning against the elevator wall. A brief moment of panic strikes as you pat your pockets, realizing your phone must have been left behind in the hotel room. Before you can fully process this inconvenience, the elevator lurches upward, and a figure clad entirely in black, sporting a ski mask, shades, and a hat, enters. You brush off the peculiar attire, attributing it to the chilly weather outside, but a faint sense of unease begins to gnaw at you as the elevator door closes.

The person does not press any buttons, signaling they were also going to the bottom floor like you were. You tried not to stare at the person beside you, but the clothes they were wearing screamed wealth. You look at their shoes as the elevator begins to go down. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop with a shake. You widen your eyes as anxiety kicks in, confused on what is going on. You look over at the stranger, not being able to see their expression before walking over and pressing the first-floor button again. This time, the elevator doesn't seem to budge nor is it telling you what floor you two are currently on.

“There's no way,” noticing the elevator may be stuck, your heart sinks down. The stranger walks closer to you, giving them a try themselves to press the buttons. You step back to give them room. Noticing the buttons will not budge for them either, you sigh and press the red button that signals a representative. A few minutes pass before someone speaks, “Hello? Is everything alright?,” the statically voice states.

“Yeah, ummm I think the elevator is stuck. We also can’t see what floor we are on,” you respond.

“Okay, please remain calm we are sen-,” the voice cuts off.

“Hello?,” you question, “HELLLOOOOOO?,” spamming the button again.

“Lady we can't hear YOUUU!,” You state pressing the button.

“You should stop before you break it.” The voice of the person speaks with a deep British accent, you now know they are a male. You turn to look at him, continuing to press the button a few more times before stopping. You sigh, sitting down on the floor.

“Just great,” you mumble while lowering your head in defeat. You are not someone with claustrophobia, plus the elevator was a decent size so it's not as if you were scared you were trapped. Only annoyed. While your head is low, you hear clothes shuffling causing you to look back up. The man begins to take off his coat and hat, probably also realizing we are not going to be getting out anytime soon. You shift your legs so you are now sitting criss-cross on the floor, your back against the wall as you look up at the elevator's ceiling.

“Don't worry, I bet they will come soon,” the man speaks once again with a reassuring voice. You keep your head up, “I know, it just sucks. This is my first time in the UK and I'm spending my first night trapped in an elevator with a stranger, no offense.” You hear a chuckle, ”None taken. What are you in the UK for if you don't mind me asking?” You can tell he just wanted small talk, and you didn't mind. I mean after all, you are stuck here for who knows how long.

 “My Best friends and I are here for the Central Cee concert,” you respond, continuing to study the French painting that is plastered on the ceiling of the elevator.

“Are you excited to go?,” he questions, resulting in you shrugging,” I don't care too much about him. Nothing against him, but you know, not really my taste.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the intercom and the faint hum of the elevator's mechanisms.

"So, what brings you to the concert if you're not a fan?" he asks, curiosity evident in his voice.

You offer a half-smile, considering your response. "Honestly, I'm just here for my friends. Stacey and Rosalina are huge fans, and they practically begged me to come along. Figured it would be a fun night out, even if the music isn't really my thing."

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," he muses, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Maybe after the concert you will be my fan.”

His unexpected comment catches you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily taken aback. With a furrowed brow, you glance down, your eyes widening and eyebrows raising in confusion. And there he stands, Central Cee himself, his presence suddenly filling the confined space of the elevator. His pearly white teeth glint in the dim light, a charming smile gracing his lips.

If your best friends were in your position, they probably would have passed out by now. But you? You simply let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Mmmmm I don't think so. Your music just isn't my type,” you reply, your tone casual yet resolute. You glance back up at the ceiling, your interest clearly elsewhere.

Central Cee seems momentarily taken aback by your nonchalant response. He had perhaps expected screams of excitement or frenzied fangirling – or perhaps even both. But your composed demeanor only serves to intrigue him further. He closes his lips, the smile still lingering on his face, his gaze lingering on you with newfound curiosity.

"Really now?" he questions, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly is your type, hmm?"

“Not you, so it doesn't matter,” you respond with a casual flick of your gaze, focusing on your nail as if it holds the answers to the universe. Impatience begins to creep into your movements, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the control panel, where you futilely press the buttons at random.

"Well, I would like to know," he persists, closing the distance between you with a deliberate step.

"It doesn't matter," you retort, your tone edged with determination.

"Yes, it does," he insists.

"No, it doesn't," you counter.

"Yes, it does."

"No, it do—" You cut yourself off mid-sentence, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. "Wait, why am I even going back and forth with you?" The question is more to yourself, but Central Cee decides to respond.

"Because you do like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—" You catch yourself falling into the same cycle, causing him to chuckle.

"You know, you're cute when you get mad," he remarks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His words elicit a soft blush from you, prompting you to turn away and face the wall. "Leave me alone," you mumble.

"Awww, I'm sorry, love. Let me make it up to you," he responds cheekily.

"Make it up to me by getting this damn elevator to work," you grumble under your breath.

"If you can admit that I am your favorite artist, then I will make that happen," he confesses, catching you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. "How?"

He tilts his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Say it, and I will make it happen."

You exhale heavily, skepticism evident in your expression. "Why does it matter to you so much?" you question.

He shrugs, smiling. "Simply because."

You glare at him, his grin only widening in response. You decide to humor him, considering his celebrity status and the possibility of connections. "Fine. You are my favorite artist."

He raises his eyebrows, amused by your half-hearted admission. "I don't think that was sincere enough for me."

You let out another small breath.  Stepping closer to him, you meet his gaze head-on. "Oakley, you are my favorite artist. I love your music so much; you are so talented."

His demeanor softens, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. Something about saying his real name seems to have an effect on him. Whether it's your beauty or simply the use of his name, it stirs something within him, making him feel... nice.

You find yourself studying his features, admiring the way his light tan skin complements the arch of his eyebrows and the depth of his chocolate eyes. His small smile draws your attention, and you instinctively take a step back, coughing lightly to dispel the tension.

"Uhm... okay, I said it. Now, do your magic."

"You're right," he responds, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

"YOU HAD A PHONE THIS ENTIRE TIME??" you exclaim, incredulous.

"Yes," he simply responds, unlocking his phone.

You sigh. "Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Who wouldn't want to be trapped in an elevator with a beautiful girl like you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the fluttering sensation in your stomach leaves you speechless. Despite your indifference towards his music, you can't deny his charm.

For a few moments, you find yourself lost in thought, your gaze dropping to your shoes. His voice interrupts your reverie, causing you to lift your head.

"Damn. I don't have any service," he says, raising his arm in a futile attempt to get a signal.

You watch as Central Cee furrows his brow in frustration, tapping futilely at his phone screen in a desperate attempt to find a signal. Despite the annoyance of being stuck in an elevator, you can't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him, a shared bond forged in the confines of this metal box.

As the seconds tick by, the silence between you grows heavier, the tension palpable in the air. You glance at Central Cee, taking in the way the dim light of the elevator accentuates the contours of his face, casting shadows that dance across his features. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can't deny the flutter of excitement that flits through your stomach at the sight of him.

"Anything yet?" you ask, breaking the silence with a voice that comes out softer than intended.

Central Cee shakes his head, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Nothing. It's like this elevator is in its own little world, cut off from the rest of the universe."

Central Cee chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the confined space. "and here I thought being a famous rapper would exempt me from getting stuck in elevators," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smile, appreciating his attempt to inject a bit of humor into the situation. "Guess even celebrities aren't immune to elevator mishaps," you reply, your lips quivering in a half-smile.

He returns the smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "At least I'm stuck in here with someone interesting," he says, his tone laced with sincerity.

A blush rises to your cheeks at his compliment, and you quickly avert your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Thanks," you mumble, "I guess you aren't so bad yourself.."

Central Cee's smile widens at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You chuckle softly, feeling a sense of ease settle over you as the tension between you dissipates. "Consider it one," you reply, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

As the moments pass, you find yourself drawn into conversation with Central Cee, the topics ranging from trivial matters to deeper discussions about life, dreams, and everything in between. Despite the unusual circumstances that brought you together, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a feeling of understanding that goes beyond mere words.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few hours, the elevator lurches back to life with a groan of protest, the sudden movement catching you off guard. Central Cee reaches out a hand to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

"We're moving again," he says, a note of relief in his voice.

You nod, a sense of anticipation building within you as the elevator ascends towards the surface. “Finally,” you say, though a pang of reluctance tugs at your heart. Deep down, you wish the elevator would stay broken, prolonging the fleeting moments you've shared with him. In the brief interlude of confinement, you've come to appreciate not just Central Cee, but the person behind the persona, Oakley. As the elevator hums back to life, you resign yourself to the inevitable parting that awaits you both, returning to the separate paths your lives had veered from.

Central Cee begins to adjust his attire, meticulously covering his features with the ski mask and glasses, returning to his "disguise". “Don't worry," you assure him, offering a small smile, "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. It'll be our little secret.” Before he can respond, the elevator doors glide open, ushering in a flood of light and fresh air. Eager to break free from the confines of the elevator, you step out quickly, wary of being trapped again.

“Hey,” Central Cee calls out to you, his voice laced with a hint of concern, “I’ll see you tomorrow,yeah?” A flicker of something indefinable passes between you, a silent understanding that transcends words. Though you yearn for a deeper connection, you suppress the urge, unsure of what you truly desire. With a small smile, you nod in acknowledgement, “Yeah.”

As you both walk away, your steps leading you in opposite directions, you can't help but feel a sense of resonance, a shared moment that binds you together in thought. Despite the divergence of your paths and the separation of your lives, in that fleeting instant, your minds are aligned, fixated on each other, entwined in a momentary bond that defies explanation.

[justporo]

Even more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

Listen guys, I'm not done yet. For now, as soon as I get one idea out, three more pop up in my mind and since you guys seem to really like these (it's seriously and positively insane to me), I'll happily provide you more as long as I am able to. So, let's-a go: more headcanons and little ideas about them being together!

(I formerly used an reuploaded and stolen version of this gif here - I didn't check where it came from and that wasn't right - I'm sorry!)

You love when Astarion smiles at you - just openly and full of joy; the sort of smile you've rarely seen from him during your adventures but they keep getting more and more, also they make him look just so young and carefree and beautiful and your heart just... melts

When Astarion quickly notices how you basically faint whenever he does this, he starts employing it to work his charms on you when he needs it - not the real big and joyous smiles though because they are so real and cherished to him he wouldn't dare use it to tease or manipulate you - they're only reserved to make you happy

Charming you is like breathing to Astarion though, you are just so helpless against his flattery and flirting because why would you resist if you could just give him everything that makes him happy?

When you mention once though that you'd hope to gain some immunity to it some time, Astarion is insulted: "No, love, making you blush is my favourite thing in the world. You are so beautiful with your cheeks all flushed. As long as I have a say in it, we will never stop!"

Tav likes teasing him just as much as Astarion enjoys it the other the way around: "You know if you would stop drawing your brows together all the time, it'd take fifty years off your face immediately." Moments of silence in which Astarion is just utterly shocked by your burn, then: "Who taught you to be this brutal, darling?" You raise an eyebrow at him, he helplessly lifts his arms: "Yeah right, I have only myself to blame."

Also, Astarion and Tav are definitely the kind of power couple that throw each other meaningful sassy looks when they're with other people and those are talking shit or something

Also, afterwards they will most definitely discuss and gossip over everything they experienced

Astarion is definitely the kind of man that would shower Tav with gifts, from coming home with a single beautiful flower that "reminded me of you, my beautiful blossom" ("How cheesy..." "Ah, so rather a gouda next time?") or a nice bottle of wine to share to bigger gestures like jewelry or expensive dresses ("When am I ever gonna wear this, Astarion?" "I don't know, we'll just make an opportunity!")

Tav loves all of his gifts but probably the small ones or the hand-crafted ones the most, she's happy with the little things but Astarion insists she deserves the big ones just as much

One time though, Astarion comes home with something else entirely; it's pouring outside and he's completely drenched and hiding something in his doublet jacket; "What do you have there, Astarion, a wheel of cheese?" Astarion carefully opens up his jacket to reveal a small white kitten that is just as drenched as him and is desperately trying to cling to the vampire's chest. "I found her all alone in a dark alleyway, cold and completely soaked, I thought maybe we could take care of her and she could be friends with Scratch?", he says while he carefully lifts up the small ball of fluff with an incredible softness in his eyes. Your heart is thoroughly melting as you walk over to them and you give Astarion the most loving of kisses

Well, the last one would almost be a drabble on it's own, I saw a similar post that made me think of this (I will find and tag them later!) Hope you enjoyed and I'm late for work now, whoops...

This is the post I mentioned before, by @mushy6902 (I hope it's okay I wrote a somewhat similar idea, thanks for inspiring me!)

[dumbseee]

noticed pt2.

f1 au/fic: having her celebrity crush as her boyfriend was something y/n didn’t expect to happen, which she also didn’t expect is the hate she would’ve receive.

lando norris x reader.

fc: bruna marquezine.

part 1.

note: i wasn’t planning on doing a part 2 but you guys asked so you shall receive :) (i wrote that very quickly so it’s not that good i’m so sorry)

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and 230 997 others.

y/n: lil photo dump because i’m living my best life with my loved ones <3 have a nice week guys!

_

landonorris: pretty girl <3

liked by y/n.

francisca.cgomes: had the best time with you baby

yourfriend: you’re shining girl

fan1: who tf is y/n? why is she even so popular?

fan2. @.fan1 bc she’s fucking lando and people have an obsession with wags

fan3: ew such a whore

fan4: why is she always half naked?

fan5: i’d be so embarrassed if i were lando bc wtf is she wearing?

fan6: lando RUN

fan7: y’all see a pretty woman dating y’all favourite driver and decide to hate her for no reason

fan8: y/n get behind me

you couldn’t stop crying, you didn’t know what you did to deserve that. you deactivated all your socials so you won’t receive any messages from people with bad intentions, and turned off your phone that kept buzzing with notifications from friends and family. you tried to call lando, to make sure he knew that this was bullshit and that never would you even think about cheating on him. you did go to neymar’s party but only as your friend’s plus one. you talked with the footballer but for literally five minutes. the girl in the picture wasn’t you and you prayed that lando knew that. but he wasn’t answering his phone and that actually made you panic even more. your whole body was shaking, you were having a panic attack and you didn’t know how to calm it since you never had one before.

this situation was horrible for you, you didn’t even know how to fix it, of course it was all a lie but would the internet believe you? deactivating all your socials could be seen as suspicious by fans. they hated you anyway so whatever excuse you’d come up with, they’d never believe you. would lando even believe you? that thought made you sob even more, you struggled to breath and fell on the ground, resting your head on your knees. you could hear your heart beats going way too fast and you prayed for someone to help you because you were going to die from that damn panic attack.

"y/n! hey y/n!" you heard a voice, but it was faint, as if someone was calling you from very far away. "y/n, please baby! breath!" lando. it was lando’s voice. you opened your eyes and saw your boyfriend, shaking you to make you come to your senses, his eyes were glossy and he looked worried, when he saw you open your eyes and look at him he sighed softly and smiled at you. "welcome back, baby." he kissed your forehead before putting your hand on his own heart while he did the same to yours. "breath for me. we’ll do it together, okay?" you nodded slowly and started to follow his breaths. "one. two. three. yeah, you’re doing amazing my love." he smiled again and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "you scared the shit out of me." he whispered, still against your forehead. "i am so sorry, lando, i swear it’s not-" he shushed you and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a long and soothing embrace. you felt silent tears roll down your cheeks.

"don’t say a word, i already know." he says, he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed your tears away. "those pretty eyes can’t be drowning in tears, love." he added. "i trust you y/n. i love and trust you with my life, i know that you’d never do such a thing." he finished by kissing your lips. "then why did you ignore my calls?" you asked. "because i needed to get back home asap to confort you." he smiled and you swore that your heart exploded.

that was the moment where you realised how deeply in love you were with lando. he was so perfect with you, always taking care of you and putting you first. you sometimes wondered if you deserved that kind of love.

"we’re going to watch your favorite tv show, order some food and take a bath later. today is y/n self care day. and don’t think about that rumour, i’m going to take care of that." he kissed the top of your head and helped you get up from the ground.

liked by y/n, carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 1 790 007 others.

landonorris: i’m going to say this once and for all: y/n l/n is the sweetest most loving and respectful person i’ve ever met in my entire existence. she’s the light that keeps shining during my darkest days, she’s the presence i crave after a long day away from her. y/n has been the victim of disgusting rumours and death threats, i’ll be taking action against every single ones of you who even just commented one single bad emoji under her posts, i’ll come for you. you made her cry, i think it’s fair enough that i make you pay back for every single tear that she shed because of people like you.

_

comments have been disabled.

[flippinpancakes64]

Hello, can I request headcanons for the cullens x reader who faints at random intervals. I wanna know how you think I would react the first time they see it happen and what they would do to help.

Sorry if there are spelling mistakes English isn't my first language. Have a good day(:

The Cullens with a reader who randomly faints

Your English is totally perfect don’t worry about it!

Tbh I’ve never fainted before except for one time I almost fainted while getting one of my tattoos so sorry if these descriptions aren’t accurate

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

The first time you do it around him, he feels something weird in your mind

He watches as your mind becomes fuzzy and you black out

He’s so scared for a split second

But then he helps you

He’s spent enough time around Carlisle he knows what to do

Over time, he starts to recognize the signs in your mind and he prepare

Even though he knows you’ll be fine, he can’t help but be worried every time

Alice:

Not a shocker but she can see when it’s about to happen

But the first time, before she knows you well enough to really be able to tap into your predictions, it catches her off guard

But she works well under pressure

She doesn’t know what to do, but she knows where to find Carlisle

After that and after you tell her that this happens all the time, she gets prepared

I can see her carrying around a bag of whatever might be helpful to you

Jasper:

He’s scared

He doesn’t know what to do

He honestly thinks you just dropped dead

He freaks out and rushes you to Carlisle or the school nurse as quick as he can

He’s gonna need a lot of reassurance that this is a normal occurrence

He’s convinced that there’s a deeper issue

Either way he makes it his mission to be prepared

I don’t think he’d be able to predict when you’re about to faint

But you’re in good hands with him

Rosalie:

I feel like she might have had a friend when she was alive that had this issue

So when you faint for the first time she recognizes it

And she knows what to do

Just once or twice and she won’t say anything

But if this is like an everyday, multiple times a day thing, she’s making you go to the hospital

She’s insistent that that can’t be normal

And if it isn’t and the doctors do find something, she is in “i told you so” mode

Emmett:

He’d say something stupid as soon as you come back after the first time you faint

“Damn, am I that hot that I made you faint? 😼”

It takes him a couple times to realize that this is like an actual issue

After the fourth or fifth time you faint in front of him he starts getting really worried

He asks Carlisle to check you out a couple times

If he finds nothing he’s still skeptical

He does everything he can to help you tho

Esme:

She is SCARED

She doesn’t know what’s going on

All she knows is that you stared swooning and then you fell

And now she’s rushing you to Carlisle’s clinic

Once he confirms that you’re okay, she breathes again

She doesn’t leave your side when you wake up

Every time you faint in the future her heart stops

She does her best to take care of you though

Carlisle:

He is the man for the job

He can recognize the signs before you pass out the first time

And he knows exactly what to do fr

He insists on doing a bunch of tests on you

This isn’t normal and he wants to get to the bottom of it

In the meantime, he is the best guy to be with

Literally always prepared

And very skilled at his job

Vampire! Bella:

If I remember correctly, she’s fainted a couple times in the series

So she knows how it is

That doesn’t necessarily mean she knows how to help though

She just kinda flails around until she remembers what used to help her

She’s worried, but she got over it so

She doesn’t push you to get checked out or anything

She just learns how to help you going forward

[withonly-sweetheart]

Runoff

Right after your most recent breakup, you finally notice the guy that you know better than you know yourself.

a/n: for the anon who requested this one <333 hope u like my lovely!! the description doesn't do it justice but i hope i went along the same idea you were thinking <3 spellchecking and grammar died :))

tw: just fluff and best friend leon

wc: 2k

The sun warms your faces as you wander down the grassy path, a woven blanket and wicker basket in hand. Both of your timed footsteps are light, minds drifting on the breeze that carries faint haunts of fresh blooms through the air.

"The water looks beautiful," you say with a gesture toward the distant lake, its surface shimmering under the clear blue sky.

"It calls to the soul, this place." Leon replies, stopping to take in the quiet beauty surrounding you.

"It’s peaceful," you offer with a soft smile.

"Come on." He meets your eyes with a sly grin. "The perfect spot awaits."

You stroll a little further before coming to a strip of shore beneath an old willow's swaying branches. Laying out your blanket upon the grass, Leon begins unpacking your meal as you stretch out and relax, admiring the tranquility of the area.

“Much better than the neighborhood,” you comment, drawing a genuine laugh from him.

“That’s for sure. Aren’t you glad you came?” His voice, his question is uncharacteristically nervous, causing you to draw your wandering thoughts back in one place and look up at him.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just…” Leon sighs, dropping his hands into his lap, fidgeting with them. “Last time I asked, you said no.”

“And I told you I was out with my boyfriend,” you say gently. He doesn’t move. His fingers still and he slowly drags his gaze across your body, meeting your eyes as if for the first time. They look almost golden, slanted in the dying rays of the sun.

“How are you both, by the way?” he mumbles, not really sounding like he cares.

“We broke up a week ago.”

Even though you shouldn’t, you remember when your first boyfriend broke up with you in middle school, and Leon was there, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering consolations in your ear.

You suppose you’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known yourself. Finding yourself was something you couldn’t have done if it weren’t for his influence, pushing you away from what would’ve corrupted you and towards the angelic halo he wanted sitting on your head.

He protects you, and you protect him. That’s one part of your relationship.

"I always thought he cared for me, you know?" you say with a sigh. "I guess some things are just too good to be true."

Leon turns to face you, his dark eyes catching the fiery hues of the setting sun. "Don't say that. Any guy would be lucky to have your heart."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," you tease, nudging his ankle with your bare toes.

"I'm far from perfect," he says softly. A soft breeze ruffles his wavy locks, and for a moment you’re captured by the play of sunlight through his hair. How had you never noticed how beautiful he looked as the sunset lit up his features?

Shaking loose from your thoughts, you quip, "Could've fooled me. While I'm wallowing in self pity you sit there as calm as ever. Isn’t that stupid?" You nudge him again, hoping to evoke a smile - but his expression remains tender.

Leon tilts his head curiously. “No. Why would you say that?”

“I guess some part of me knew that if I didn’t have him, no one else would ever love me.”

Leon picks at the blanket, coaxing strands to peel away from the tightly woven fabric. “That part’s stupid. You’ll find the one.”

“Don’t get philosophical on me,” you tease. “I need someone to jar back to reality.”

“I’m not!” He protests, flushing. He turns back to the lake, to the ripples steadily running towards us. “He didn’t… like… after prom?”

“Leon!” You nudge him with your foot, exasperated. “He’s not that bad.”

“I know,” he replies, but he doesn’t sound like he’s convinced. “Watch the food for me?”

“Why?” The corner of your lip twitches. “Are you swimming?”

“Maybe.” Leon leans back on his palms, as if only considering this idea now, even when you know he only came here with the idea of a quick dip. 

Nothing got him relaxed like floating, weightless, drifting along in dense water, consuming his thoughts as if absorbing his troubled mind, disappearing into the abyss below. You knew that from the absurd amount of times you’d seen him at the pool.

“I know you want to.” 

His neck turns a light shade of pink. “That obvious?” 

You nudge him forward. “Just go already. It’s already getting dark.”

Leon glances toward the setting sun, gauging how much time remains in the long summer dusk. Then, with a playful grin, he rises and pulls his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. 

You watch, fascinated, as lithe muscles shift beneath golden skin. His shirt lands in a warm heap next to you as he stretches his arms upward, arching his back like a cat awakening. Shadows accentuate his slender form while soft rays limn each contour, making poetry of lean lines that tell of wiry strength.   

Gazing out over the waiting water, Leon takes a deep breath of anticipation. You see the subtle relaxation steal through taut limbs and tense shoulders. Then he turns, catching you looking, and laughter glints in rapt eyes before he shifts his stance back to the lake.

You settle back on your palms to watch Leon glide into the waiting water. His form cuts smoothly through the glassy surface, barely a disturbance in his wake. 

Under the fading rose glow of sunset, Leon's pale skin takes on a luminous sheen you never quite noticed before. Ripples kiss the shore as he submerges fully, rolling beneath the water, only to emerge seconds later, shaking droplets from his disheveled hair. 

You trace each bead's downward path, longing to feel their chill evaporate under searing fingers. But you stay put, watching from afar as Leon floats languidly, gazing up at the colors fading fast across the sky.

A sigh escapes you, matching the gentle swaying of reeds along the bank. You envy the placid waters bearing him, lapping coolness across his skin and easing all tensions. To have someone sink into such a soothing embrace - but your place is here, drinking in the poetry of his fluid motions beneath the dying glow of dusk.

<><><><>

“You’re not getting in my car dripping like that,” you deadpan. Leon kicks the gravel of the parking lot, outlined by the fierce sun, looking just like a guilty little boy.

“I didn’t bring a towel,” he mumbles. “Just this once?”

“I just- no!” 

“Then how do I get home?” he asks softly. 

You watch his eyes, blinking down at you, guilt steadily spreading across your expression as you switch your gaze between the boy standing in front of you and your car. 

Equally steady is the childlike grin that Leon sports while he soaks  the poor, newly refurbished passenger seat. You manage to at least throw down your picnic blanket before he sits back down, eyes narrowed at you. 

“Either this or I stuff you in my trunk,” you reply smugly. 

“No, no, it’s not that…” he says, trailing off. He shakes his head and twists to look out the window, holding his face in the middle of his palm. His shoulders are drawn back, as if protecting something.

After a few minutes of silence, you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“That won’t work on me.”

A quiet huff. “It’s nothing.”

You pull up in your driveway but you don’t move to unlock the car. Leon's fingers freeze on the handle, terror flashing across his face. In an instant, you see all the emotions he'd kept bottled inside leak out like spilled ink. 

Your questioning gaze pins him as surely as if you'd seen through flesh to the secrets of his heart beneath. For a long moment, the only sounds are crickets replacing daylight's song outside. 

Then Leon snatches his hand back as if burned, stammering, "S-sorry, I didn't mean to–the door got stuck, that's all." 

“That might be because I locked it.” You smile and cross your arms, waiting.

After several long moments, his shoulders slump in defeat. You look at Leon steadily, at his hands still resting on the locked door. His panicked gaze darts everywhere but at you.

"Leon," you say softly. "Talk to me. Why did you grab the handle like that?" 

He swallowed hard, fingers twisting together in his lap. When he speaks, his voice is barely a murmur, like a preschooler admitting something wrong he did. "I just… wanted to get out, I guess."

You tilt your head, waiting for more. But you don’t expect a tear to slip from his eyes as he takes a wavering breath.

"Please don't make me say it," he whispers. More confused than intrigued, you rest a hand on his trembling arm, trying to ease his discomfort. When he flinches, you recoil, tilting your head as a sign for him to continue.

If it were anyone else, they would’ve missed the growing expectation spread plainly on your face. And it’s for that reason that Leon doesn’t persist. He knows there’s no use. He had to get to this point at some point.

He collapses against the seat, face crumpling. "I'm sorry, I-I have feelings for you, okay? I've tried so hard not to but I can't help it. And now you'll hate me and I've ruined everything-"

Gently, you lay a hand on his knee. "Leon. Look at me." 

Reluctantly he meets your gaze, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You give him a reassuring smile. "You don’t have to be nervous with me. You needed that, didn’t you?"

Leon shakes his head vigorously, tears escaping down his cheeks. "No, y-you don't understand. You were with him, you...you loved him." 

His voice breaks on the last word. You take his face gently between your hands, gazing intently into his watery eyes. 

"Leon, listen to me. We weren’t real. Nothing between us was real, hm?” He tries to look away but you hold him fast. "Why do you think we broke up, huh?” Your voice sounds dry with amusement but you can’t seem to make it sound any other way right now. “Because every time I was with him, all I could think about was you. Your smile, your laugh, how you make me feel."

Leon lets out a soft sob, pressing his eyes closed, spindly, dew-dropped eyelashes brushing against his raised cheekbones. You press your forehead to his, wiping away a falling tear with your thumb, feeling like you’ll never need anything else. Just him.

"It's always been you, dumbass. I'm in love with you." 

Before he can protest further, you kiss him intensely, and under your lips, you feel him melt, molding into your hands. Gently, you caress his cheek again, your thumb gliding soft as a veil of rain across his trembling lips. 

His eyes flicker shut at the ghost of your fingertips on his skin. Beneath your hands' worshipful mapping, Leon's trembling fades, body loosening like the reeds sinking into the peace of the lake. 

His lips, yet tingling from your kiss's imprint, curl softly at their edges - the whisper of a private smile meant for you alone. He pulls away from you, sniffling, running a hand under his nose, chuckling softly. 

“So…” Leon’s fingers lace with yours, breathing life back into the twilight air. “Guess we’re finally figuring things out, huh?”

“Took us long enough.” You brush your hair back behind your ear, eyes glinting mischievously up at him. “Who would’ve thought all it’d take was trapping you in a car?”

Leon groans and buries his flushed face in your shoulder. “Please don’t remind me. I still look insane, don’t I?”

You tap his chin until his shy eyes meet your gaze. “You could never look anything but beautiful to me.”

“Such a charmer. No wonder I never stood a chance.” Leon’s blush deepens, crimson against the pale hues of his skin, teeth clicking together softly. He’s shivering, you realize.

“I think you’re the only one who ever stands a chance, love.” You drum his nose before grinning. “You’re cold. Come inside, I’ll get a bath started.”

And on the way inside, fingers intertwined with his, you make a promise to yourself.

Never let him go.

[beckyninja]

The Dragon

Pairing: Salamander x FemOC (past), Salamander x FemReader (future)

Warnings: implied child death, implied Drukhari... being Drukhari

Description: Salamander Apothecary Nev'ran returns to his chapter after years in the Death Watch and is forced to face painful memories.

Here's something new guys! My first ever Warhammer oc protagonist! Thanks to @thememestrider and @garlickedbreads for showing enough interest in my Salamander side-character to inspire me to write a full fic just for him. (Please forgive my playing fast and loose with Warhammer canon.)

Apothecary Nev'ran makes a brief appearance in my previous fic, Relief. And, of course, if you'd like to read my other works, check out my Masterlist.

“It is good to see you again, brother.” 

Apothecary Nev’ran nodded to the Captain of the Salamanders 4th Company, even as his deep red eyes roamed the Flamewrought’s bridge. So familiar. Every screen, shrine, beam and cable. 

Has it truly been half a century since I stood upon this ship?

“It is good to be back, Xavus.” He allowed himself a smile. “Your new rank suits you.”

Xavus returned the grin, the wings of the dactyle branded onto his left cheek twisting at the expression. “Much has changed during your absence, old drake. I hope it will not be too difficult for you to assimilate.”

Nev’ran snorted. “I am not so old that I cannot still humble you in the training ring, hatchling.”

The Captain chuckled, then grew solemn. “I see you have brought our fallen brothers back to us.”

Nev’ran turned to watch the five covered bodies wheeled off the Thunderhawk. 

Five more I failed to save. 

“We will take them home, brother. We are bound for Nocturne.”

Nev’ran clenched his teeth. “Home. It has been… so long.”

A gauntleted hand landed on his shoulder. “Too long, brother.”

Not long enough. 

Forcing the nagging thought to the back of his mind, Nev’ran once again looked around the Bridge. Most of his fellow Salamanders he recognized. But the serfs….

“I expected Exin would be here to meet me.”

Xavus blinked. “I thought you knew, brother. Your brander priest passed into the fire nearly a decade ago.”

A stab of pain. Exin had served him faithfully for nearly three decades before he’d gone to the Watch, painstakingly branding the sigils of his lord’s victories into his flesh. He remembered the angular, serious face. Slow to smile, but warm-hearted nonetheless. Like his father and grandmother before him. 

Ruby used to tease- no. Not those memories. Not yet.

Nev’ran spoke past the tightness in his throat. “Did he have no child to carry on his family calling?”

“None. I am sorry, brother.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “Another will be assigned to you when we reach Nocturne.”

Another mortal I can watch fade and die. “There is no need. I have grown used to caring for myself these past years.”

Xavus chuckled. “Then I can only imagine the illegibility of your brands, brother.”

Nev’ran forced a laugh.

The Captain continued. “You must tire of my company. Your old apothecarion calls, and I am sure you are eager to return to it.”

“Yes.”

No.

***

The equipment. The medicines. The harsh scent of chemicals failing to hide the omnipresent odor of blood. His apothecarion.

Memories battered his mental walls as he stepped through the doors. A bright smile. Glinting, mischievous eyes. His name on soft lips. 

He shook his head. “No.”

“My lord?” A feminine voice.

His eyes snapped to the small figure in medica’s robes standing off to one side. Her hood covered her face, and both his hearts skipped a beat. 

“Ruby?” The name slipped out before he could stop it.

It cannot be…!

The medica raised her head enough for him to see her puzzled expression. And his faint, mad hope disintegrated. 

“Apothecary Nev’ran!” Another Salamander burst through a side door. “By the Emperor, it is good to see you!”

Nev’ran stared at the youthful, unbranded face. “Hur’reth!”

A spark of joy warmed the cold forge of his hearts. Former master and former apprentice embraced, the clang of colliding ceramite resonating through the chamber. More clangs followed as Nev’ran pounded the younger Salamander’s back.

“It is good to see you, young one.” He stepped back, looking him up and down. “You passed your trials with ease, I expect?”

Hur’eth laughed. “How could I do otherwise, with you as my teacher?”

Nev’ran gave a genuine smile for the first time in longer than he could remember. “A full Brother Apothecary. I am proud of you.”

“I have eagerly awaited your return, master. What news from the Long Watch?”

“Have you time to listen?”

“My duties are light since the company is between campaigns.” Hur’reth’s eyes sparkled just as they had when he was a child, listening to his master’s stories in the forge.

“Then sit with me, and I will share what wisdom I have gathered.” Nev’ran lightly batted the side of the younger Salamander’s head. “Perhaps some of it will sink in this time.”

A soft cough. Hur’reth glanced off to one side, where the medica stood silently. 

“Before that, master. I have someone I would introduce to you.” He beckoned the woman over. “This is Matia, my most valued assistant here in the apothecarion.” 

He gazed down at her with an expression Nev’ran knew all too well. “She is to be my mate.”

Pain. Like a branding iron shoved inside his gut. With those few words, Nev’ran’s mind spiralled into the deepest secrets of the Salamanders.

Official doctrine stated that the Primarch Vulkan himself started the custom. But some chapter scholars believed the practice went back even further. They held that the instinct to mate and father children lay deep within the geneseed of every Astartes. The Salamanders simply chose to embrace that instinct, instead of burying it beneath repressive indoctrination. 

The Chaplains gave strict instructions on the practice to each initiate. 

The woman must be strong of body, able to stand alongside a warrior and mother his children. The woman must be strong of mind, able to bring skills to the chapter and guide the next generation of battle brothers. The woman must be strong of will, to endure the horrors to which she may be exposed.

Above all, the woman must be willing. Coercion of any kind turned a former battle brother into the most hated of creatures, dishonored and hunted by his fellow Salamanders.

For such women were valued beyond price. Bringers of love and wisdom. Councillors and artisans. Faithful companions.

Nev’ran’s hand automatically sought the reliquary at his waist.

“Master?” Hur’reth’s voice shook him from his reverie. “Do you disapprove?”

“You have spoken with the Chaplain, child?” Nev’ran addressed the woman, softening his voice as much as he could.

“I have, my lord. He deemed me worthy.”

Hur’reth beamed, settling his hand on her shoulder. “We will be bound in fire when we reach Nocturne. I would greatly appreciate your presence at the ceremony, master.”

By the Throne, do not ask that of me. Not that!

“I…may have other duties to attend to.” He sighed when the younger Salamander’s face fell. “But I will try.”

Matia smiled. “Hur’reth often spoke of you, my lord. He said you were like a father to him. We would be grateful for your blessing.”

“I said I will try. I make no promises.”

The woman flinched at the harshness in his tone. Hur’eth’s eyes flashed fire, a growl rumbling from his chest.

Warp damn it. 

Nev’ran raised a hand. “Forgive me. The day has been long and I am, perhaps, still adjusting to my return.”

Matia laid a hand on Hur’reth’s arm, and the younger Apothecary seemed to calm. “We understand, my lord. Don’t we, my heart’s fire?”

Hur’reth remained silent, and she gave him a sharp look from beneath her hood. 

“Yes,” he finally grumbled, “we understand.”

“Perhaps it would be best if tales of my time in the Watch waited for another day.” Nev’ran tried to smile.

The scowl didn’t leave Hur’reth’s face. “I think that would be wise. Rest well, Brother Apothecary.”

“And you.”

He watched the pair make their way out of the chamber. At the door, Hur’reth bent suddenly and scooped Matia into his arms. Her startled laugh floated back to Nev’ran and, once again, pain seared him from the inside out.

Warp damn it all! Fifty years since… and nothing is easier.

***

A throaty laugh. “Arise, old dragon. The day cycle stretches on, and you lay like a lizard in the sun.”

He stubbornly kept his eyes shut. “Hmph. No respect for my age and wisdom, young one?”

“None whatsoever.” A cool, calloused hand against his cheek.

He caught the wrist. “You forget, woman, an old dragon is still dangerous.”

“Oh?” The voice dropped low, and his body stirred in response.

“Dangerous. And patient.” 

With a firm, but gentle tug, he pulled the woman onto his broad chest, lips pressing against her throat. He opened his eyes to stare into snapping black orbs full of laughter and love-

Nev’ran awoke.

The darkness of his quarters confused him for a moment. Then his firesight activated, and he saw the ribbons of heat swirling across the walls and ceiling in geometric patterns. The smell of warm metal and incense filled his nose. He pushed himself upright with a groan, feeling the stretch and creak of centuries old muscle.

One hand reached behind him. But no soft, cool body met his questing fingers. None had for over fifty years. Instead, he caressed the reliquary still tied at the waist of his sleeping robes. 

“My Ruby.”

For a long moment he sat upon the edge of his cot, feeling every ridge and edge of the ornate little box. He knew it  better than any weapon he’d ever crafted. He’d forged it himself after all.

And yet, it was naught but cold comfort.

He surged to his feet.

I can put this off no longer.

Exiting his quarters, he padded barefoot through the halls of the Flamewrought. This late in the night cycle, only a few serfs scurried about. They bobbed in respect as he passed. Any other time, he might have stopped to converse, to ask their names and positions. 

Not tonight. 

The memory of hundreds of similar treks did not fail him as the doors to the small chapel came into view. One phrase stood out amidst the riot of Imperial symbols and imagery lovingly carved upon their surface: The Daughters of Vulkan

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before pressing his hand to the panel on one side of the door. He felt sharp prick as the needle tested his blood.

None but Salamanders were permitted beyond these doors. Few, if any, of the other chapters or Imperial offices would understand the secrets held within.

Emperor forbid the Inquisition ever learn of this.

A few seconds later, there came a high-pitched beep, a light flashed, and the doors hissed apart. Nev’ran steeled himself as he stepped within.

The inner walls and floor were not metal like the rest of the ship, but stone, mined from Nocturne and made to resemble the homeworld’s caverns. A large brazier stood in the exact center of the circular chapel.

Nev’ran took in the myriad of murals and designs covering nearly every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Though the skulls and other common imagery of the Imperial cult were represented, the predominant image remained that of a she-dragon in various poses: curled about her eggs, watching over playful hatchlings, poised to attack, teeth bared.

The images curled about hundreds of small niches carved into the stone, each holding a tiny urn. Some were dark and dusty. Others held smoldering candles. Still others glimmered with inset jewels. Nev’ran approached one of these.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers over a name carved upon the urn, mildly surprised to find it free of dust and soot. His wife’s given name. Though, he’d rarely called her by it.

“Ruby. My Ruby.” My precious, fiery gem.

The memories he’d fought so long and so hard to resist came pouring back, irresistible as a lava flow. 

He’d already been centuries old, the last of his bloodline, when he first laid eyes on her. He’d made peace with the fact he’d never find a mate of his own, never hold children in his arms.

Then he’d returned one day to find a new medica stood tall and unafraid in the midst of his apothecarion. She’d recited her name without waiting for him to speak. The granddaughter of a brother of the First Company, she could have had any position she wished.

But she’d chosen Fleet duty.

“How can I help anyone if I’m bound to the homeworld, my lord? I wish to sail the stars, to succour those in need far from Nocturne’s fires. I am not afraid.”

She was never afraid. Not of the great empty void. Not of battle. Not of other Astartes. He smiled at the memory of her standing face to face (rather, face to stomach) with an irate Ultramarine. 

“I don’t care what the Codex dictates, Captain Sicarious! You can question the wounded after I’ve tended to them, and not one moment before!”

Slowly, she’d chipped away at the stony walls around his heart. She’d given him hope for a future filled with warmth and life after centuries in cold solitude. He’d spent weeks in the forge, toiling over her betrothal gift.

Nev’ran stood, ramrod straight, as she opened the plain metal box. The contents glittered in the candlelight.

“Oh…oh, Nev!”

She lifted the many-stranded necklace, delicate golden wire set with dozens of tiny, scarlet stones. “Rubies! My favorite!”

“I know.” He smiled, then slowly dropped to one knee. “It would be a great honor, if you would bond with me in the firelight of-”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Kisses turned to caresses, which turned to clothing discarded on the floor of his quarters. He was anxious about causing her pain. She was frustrated with his caution. When they finally settled into a rhythm….

By Vulkan’s burning eyes, it was perfection.

In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been the best idea to propose in the middle of an Ork invasion. The Chaplain hadn’t been available for several weeks, and by that time, they’d had to request an expedited ceremony.

They’d wanted to be officially bonded before the child came.

Nev’ran leaned his forehead against the niche and braced himself for the memories to come.

The Orks had been defeated, but the planet was devastated. Infrastructure crumbling, people battered, defenders exhausted. The Salamanders did what they could to aid the population. He remembered working nonstop for days, tending the wounded and extracting geneseed from the fallen.

He’d tried to convince her to remain on the Flamewrought with the serfs. She’d refused. Pregnant or not, as long as she could help, she would. He’d been so proud, watching her organize the hospital, bark orders at officers, and sooth traumatized guardsmen.

So strong. So fearless.

Then the Drukhari came. Hate reddened his vision.

Vile scavengers drawn to the scent of suffering. A raiding party swooped in under the cover of darkness one night, striking at the most vulnerable point: the hospital.

When he found her…when he’d seen what they’d left of her and his unborn child….

Nev’ran’s knees buckled.

“Master?”

He did not look up at the voice. “Hur’reth.”

“I knew I would find you here.” A second hand joined his upon his wife’s memorial shrine. “I come once a standard week.”

“Thank you for maintaining it.”

“She was like a second mother to me, during my apprenticeship.” He heard a smile in the younger Salamander’s voice. “She used to sneak me sweets when your back was turned.”

“I know.”

“I celebrated the news of your bonding. And I mourned…after.” A deep breath. “I desired to speak with you, but I had my trials. And then you left.”

Nev’ran remained silent. In the aftermath of her murder, he’d wanted nothing more than to hunt every filthy Drukhari from the galaxy. He’d badgered then-Captain Dac’tyr to let him go to the Watch, even threatening to join as a Black Shield. 

Anything to hold off the black void of grief.

“Did you find what you needed in the Death Watch?”

Nev’ran sighed and stood. “I thought so, brother. With every Drukhari I left a burning husk at my feet, I thought so.”

In time, the volcanic rage had faded to smoldering embers. He’d formed bonds with his brothers in the Watch, took pleasure in the companionship of the serfs. 

I wonder if Brother Nullus ever acted upon his feelings for his little serf girl?

But the wound never truly healed.

Before he could say so, a metallic voice screeched over the chapel’s vox. “ALL BROTHERS ARMOR YOURSELVES AND GATHER ON THE BRIDGE.”

***

“We have received a distress signal.” Captain Xavus leaned over the communications table. “It’s fragmented, and weak, but close.”

He hit a button and a panicked voice pierced the air. “shhhh…breached our hull in numerous…shhhh…captain dead…shhhh…hunting us…shhhh…Emperor, save us! Someone help…shhhh….”

The final words, screamed in terror, sent lightning up Nev’ran’s spine. 

“Dark Eldar!”

Xavus ended the transmission. “That was the last of it. We sent transmissions of our own, but received no further communication.”

Nev’ran spoke even before the Lieutenant standing next to him. “How soon will we arrive?”

“We should be within Thunderhawk range in less than an hour.”

The Lieutenant eyed him. “I will prepare a squad.”

Nev’ran turned to the unfamiliar brother. “I will accompany you.”

“This is no job for an Apothecary.”

Fury flashed through him, but Xavus spoke before he could. “Apothecary Nev’ran is recently returned from the Death Watch, Lieutenant. His knowledge of the xenos will prove valuable.”

Thank you, brother.

The Captain continued, face grim. “And, in the unlikely case there are survivors, they will need medical aid.”

***

The silence. As Nev’ran exited the Thunderhawk in the hangar of the large merchant transport, bolter raised, the silence struck him. Void ships were never silent.

His mind flashed back to that terrible dawn, outside the hospital camp. It had been silent then too.

“Brother Apothecary, what insight do you have for us?”

He ignored the irritation in the Lieutenant’s voice. “Trust nothing you see or hear. Keep a lookout in all directions at all times.”

Another brother spoke. “We saw no ships on our approach. Perhaps the foul xenos are gone?”

“Do not be certain of that.”

The abominations were nothing if not cunning.

The five man squad moved quickly through the empty halls. Scorch marks and twisted metal marked a fierce fight. Bright red blood dripped from every surface.

“Where are the bodies?” Another of the team spoke.

“Taken.” Nev’ran growled. “Fuel for foul experiments. Pray to the Emperor they were killed first.”

“Brothers!”

Nev’ran turned toward the shout. One of his squadmates stood before an open door. He heard a few faint gurgles coming from within.

“Dear Emperor….”

The Apothecary could guess what he saw. “Can any be saved?”

A short shake of his helmeted head.

“Then give them mercy, brother.”

The Salamander aimed his flamer into the chamber. “You will be avenged, I swear it.”

Searing, cleansing heat. Then silence once again. The Salamander came to stand next to Nev’ran, head lowered, chest heaving. 

He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Steel yourself. There will be more.”

There were.

By the time his squad reached the bowels of the ship, all were silent. Nev’ran knew each battle brother had seen horrors to blast mortal minds. But the charnel houses left in the Drukhari’s wake could shake the most stalwart Astartes. 

They had shaken him. 

The dragon in him roared for battle. He desired nothing more than to rip the perpetrators of these atrocities in half with his bare hands. Another part of him wept for the victims.

Emperor, is this my punishment for failing to save my mate and child? To be forced to arrive too late time and time again? 

Inside his helmet, he closed his eyes and channeled every ounce of faith he still possessed into one prayer. 

Please. Just one. Let me save just one.

A light flashed on in his helmet display. “I have a life sign!”

“Xenos?” The Lieutenant growled.

“Human.”

The other Salamanders gathered around. “Where?”

“Toward the far hull.”

As he spoke, the already flickering lights in the hall went out. Nev’ran activated his firesight, and each brother came alive with unique heat patterns.

“The life support systems are failing,” one Salamander remarked.

Nev’ran pressed ahead. “Then we must move quickly!”

More systems failed as they continued. The air grew frigid, frost forming along every metal surface. Nev’ran barely noticed. His eyes fixed upon the life sign as it turned from green to orange, then orange to red.

No. Not this time!

At last they turned a corner to find a barricade constructed before an ornate set of doors. Only here did bodies lay where they’d fallen. Men and woman in fine uniforms, wielding pristine weapons.

“House guards.” One of the brothers muttered.

Another nodded. “A final stand.”

The Lieutenant kicked a lanky body in spiked armor. “They took a few of the foul creatures with them, at least.”

“No mutilations.” Nev’ran rumbled. “The xenos must have detected our ship and fled before they had time to…enjoy themselves.”

“Cowards.”

The Apothecary clenched his fists around his weapon until the metal creaked. “If we had only gotten here sooner.” He shook himself. “Help me brothers, the life sign is behind that door.”

He pushed his way through the hastily constructed barricade. Reaching the door, he realized it had been welded shut. His pauldron met metal with a ringing crash.

“Allow me, brother.” The Lieutenant came up beside. “On the count of three….”

Two rams later, and the door buckled. A gust of icy air blew past them as they stepped into the chamber. It may have been beautiful once, with ornate furniture and hanging tapestries. Now frost covered every surface, including the figure huddled by the dead fireplace.

“Warp damn it.” The Lieutenant growled. “The coolant system here must have ruptured.”

Nev’ran barely heard him. A blanket covered the still body, only revealing a frail, feminine hand. The blue fingers twitched.

A cry from behind stopped him mid-step.

“Throne! The xenos lives!”

Swift and deadly as a thrown blade, the Drukhari “corpse” leapt into the chamber. Nev’ran caught the glimmer of mad eyes through its half-demolished helm before they focused on the figure on the floor.

A hiss of vicious delight, a flicker of movement, and it stood over the prone form. The blanket was torn away, revealing….

You. A young woman. Helpless. Staring up at your death with calm acceptance.

The dragon within awoke. “NO!”

Afterwards, he never could explain how he reached the Drukhari in time. He only felt the thin throat in his fist, wrenching it away from you like a ragdoll. Again and again and again he slammed it to the floor, continuing long after it ceased to resemble any kind of humanoid. Until, at last, a soft gasp drew him out of the blood rage.

You stared up at him with wide eyes. He expected to see fear in your gaze. But there was only awe. Something in his hearts burned at that look, a feeling he had not experienced in decades.

You reached your tiny, fragile hand out to him, blue-tinted lips opening. “C-cold. So…cold….”

He knew nothing about you, not even your name, and yet it felt natural to hold you close. As if you belonged in his arms.

“Fear not, little one. This dragon will keep you warm.”

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