#f!druid

[swindlefingrs]

Kennach the Wanderer 🐻

[badjanet420]

save a horse, ride a man that has shape shifted into a bear

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

BG3 Incorrect Quotes AstarionxTiefling Tav

Astarion: Why is there honey all over the tail of my wife?! 😠🍯😡 😲 * Halsin has permanently left your party *

[quizzievivicalavellan]

Rescue

In which a brush with danger leads to Aster being gravely injured and true feelings coming to light. Takes place after Gale's attempt at flirting in Act II. Pretending that there aren’t multiple super-easy ways to revive dead party members because it really kills the tension lol.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53341882/chapters/146060362

***********************************************

Internally, Gale was kicking himself. The effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for other forms of stimulation? Seriously? What had he been thinking?

Well, he knew what he had been thinking.

Ever since Elminster’s visit to their campsite, Gale’s mind was seemingly capable of focusing on only two subjects. One, the great and terrible burden Mystra had so dispassionately thrust upon him. The other, her. While his feelings toward her had been strong before, in the wake of his impending mortality, they had become all-consuming. Her every action, every part of her, endeared her to him further. The practiced flick of her wrist as she called down lightning. The dimple in her left cheek when she smiled. The way she quietly whistled birdsongs during their long walks. As he had said earlier whilst thoroughly embarrassing himself, he found her quite irresistible.

Unfortunately, now more than ever, he doubted that she shared similar feelings. All the way back at the Grove, when he had offered to teach her a bit of magic, he had seen her imagine kissing him through their connection in the Weave, and it had sparked some hope that she might be interested in him. In their travels since, their conversations had been easy and sometimes casually flirtatious, but if she did have deeper feelings, she had not acted on them. And now, ever since they had entered the Shadow-Cursed Lands, she had grown increasingly distant. He saw that lovely smile of hers less and less. In this dismal place, so close to the looming threat of Moonrise Towers, her burdens must have felt heavier than ever, and it pained him that he could no longer lighten them with a joke or a reassuring word. One of the few things he had been able to offer her, and now even that was not enough.

And that dreadfully worded confession certainly had not helped. She had smiled, likely out of pity or embarrassment, but it had not reached her eyes. As kind as she was, she likely just didn’t have the heart to let him down gently.

Gale looked ahead and realized he had fallen behind while wallowing in self-pity. Halsin’s torch at the front of the group had shrunk to a small glowing dot in the endless shadow. Halsin and Aster were at the head of the party, looking for signs of where they might find the other half of Thaniel. Gale was supposed to be in the middle with Shadowheart and Lae’zel, but they had moved well ahead of him by now. Karlach and Wyll had stayed behind to strategize with Jaheira as Karlach got used to the adjustment Dammon had made for her mechanical heart. Which, at the rear of the party, left…

“So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?” Astarion asked as he appeared from the shadows.

Ah, speak of the devil. Or the vampire, in this case. Gale started in spite of himself at the rogue’s sudden appearance.

“Not very well, I take it, given that abysmal display. You know, I could give you some pointers; I am very good at that sort of thing,” Astarion bragged with a self-satisfied smile.

Gale groaned. “So you heard that, I take it.”

Astarion laughed. “Every word, unfortunately for you.”

“Just wonderful,” Gale replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. As if it weren’t enough to embarrass himself in front of her, it seemed everyone had witnessed his humiliatingly poor attempt at flirtation. Begrudgingly, Gale admitted to himself that he was envious of the way Astarion was so effortlessly smooth and confident, but he was wary of any offer of help from the duplicitous rogue.

“And why exactly would you help me?” Gale asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.

“At first, it was amusing to watch you two make longing puppy-dog eyes at each other, but at this point it’s just sad,” Astarion replied, absently twirling a knife in his hand. “Without someone to intervene, I fear your mutually oblivious pining would go on forever.”

“Mutual…?”

“Oh, Gale. I know from… experience when an individual is attracted to someone, and it is quite obvious that she likes you. Now, as to why, I have absolutely no idea –”

Just as Gale was rolling his eyes in response, Astarion was interrupted by a shout from ahead. The two of them broke into a run. Gale called upon the Weave, preparing for a fight, but his human eyes had trouble picking out their attackers in the dark.

When they caught up to the others, the fight was already in full swing. A horde of shadows and their cursed Harper victims had ambushed them. Lae’zel was cutting through enemies with ease, Shadowheart struck down shadows with her radiant cleric magic, and Halsin in bear form clawed viciously at the attackers, but more and more kept spilling out of the darkness.

Aster had been calling on her druid magic over nature, but these cursed lands weakened her power, and she was quickly surrounded. Just as he lost sight of her, an owlbear erupted from amidst the circle of shadows and Harpers. He had never seen her take the shape of an owlbear before, and the sight of the massive creature rending attackers with beak and claws was striking to behold.

Just as she had started turning the tide of the battle, however, the shadows redoubled their attack against her, and it proved too much. She began losing hold of her form, a new wild shape not yet mastered, now writhing in agony as a gruesome, twisted amalgamation of owlbear and gnome.

“Aster!” Gale cried out in a pained voice and rushed toward her, incinerating every enemy in his path. By the time he reached her she had lost hold of the shape entirely and was lying unconscious on the ground, covered in blood and bruises.

The others were rushing over to help, but Gale warned them to stay back with an outstretched hand. He drew upon the Weave, summoning immense power and channeling it out into a massive fiery explosion. The shadows and Harpers disintegrated, and the swath of cursed forest in front of them had been reduced to ash.

With the threat eliminated, he knelt down beside her, getting a closer look at her injuries. It did not look good. She was badly hurt, with multiple gashes bleeding heavily, and her breathing was shallow. Please be alright, he thought, I’m sorry I did not get her faster, I should have- I- I’m sorry…

“Shadowheart, can you…?” Gale managed to say around the lump in his throat.

Shadowheart nodded, and her hands began to glow with her divine cleric abilities. She passed her hands over Aster’s body. The bleeding slowed and her breath steadied, but she did not awaken.  

“I have healed the worst of her injuries, but she needs rest. We should get back to Last Light Inn as quickly as possible,” Shadowheart said when her work was finished.

Halsin had started to reach out his thick, strong arms to lift her up, but Gale beat him to it. Gently, he slid one arm under her knees and the other beneath her back and raised her off the ground. Even being a gnome, she was lighter than he expected, taking little effort even for his far thinner arms to lift her. She looked so small and fragile there collapsed in his arms. Guilt washed over him again for falling behind, for not protecting her from those creatures. He promised himself then that if she made it through this, please, please make it through this, he would keep her safe. He would protect her, whatever the cost. 

“Follow me, I know the fastest path back to the inn,” Halsin said, once again lifting his torch high into the air. Before starting off, he placed one of his large hands on Gale’s shoulder and gave him an empathetic smile.

“Shadowheart is a skilled healer,” he said in a soft, reassuring tone, “She will be fine.”

Gale could only pray that he was right.

*********

Everything hurt. Aster’s eyelids felt as heavy as bricks as she struggled to open them, and the bright candlelight that peeked through felt like it was stabbing into her skull. She tried to sit up but groaned at the sharp pain the movement sent through her ribs.

She felt the gentle press of a hand against her shoulder, encouraging her to stay still. She managed to open her eyes the rest of the way and turned her head toward the hand. Gale was there sitting next to her.

“Aster, thank goodness you’re awake,” he said, the relief in his voice almost palpable, but with a twinge of worry still present. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve –” Aster winced, trying to sit up again, “been better.”

She felt the soft push on her shoulder again. “Rest there, don’t try to move. I brought some things for you – potions to help with the pain, a blanket if you’re cold, or a cool cloth if you’re feverish, an extra pillow –” he rambled.

“The potion would be nice,” Aster interrupted.

“Of course. Here.” She felt the rim of a glass vial against her lips and swallowed the sweet, viscous potion.

“Mmm,” Aster moaned pleasantly, the effects of the potion already taking hold. A soothing warmth spread through her, taking the edge off the pain and clearing her thoughts. “Thank you. That feels much better.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Gale asked.

Aster noted the sticky feeling the potion had left in her mouth. “Some water would be nice, if you have some.”

“Water, of course! Why did I not think to – I’ll go fetch some. Rest there, I will return shortly,” he said, already halfway out the door before he finished speaking.

“You don’t –” have to, Aster had started to say, but he was already gone. A few moments later, two others entered the room.

 “Hey soldier!” Karlach greeted, “Good to see you awake.”

“How are you feeling?” Wyll asked as the two of them sat down beside the bed. “When the others brought you to the inn, you were in bad shape. I’m sorry we weren’t there.”

Aster waved away the unnecessary apology. “I feel better than when I first woke.” She sat up to both test and prove her point. It still sent a stab of pain through her side, but it was much more tolerable now. “What happened? How long was I asleep? I remember an ambush… and then I woke up here.”

“Yes, you were ambushed by shadows,” Wyll answered, “Halsin said you changed into an owlbear, but could not hold the shape, and those hideous creatures got the better of you. Gale incinerated them and the party rushed you back to the inn. You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

“Poor Gale,” Karlach added, “He’s been absolutely beside himself. He’s only left this room to go get things for when you woke up. You know he carried you the whole way back here? It’s sweet, how he cares about you.”

Aster smiled shyly and felt warmth in her cheeks, touched to learn of Gale’s rescue and by his attentiveness in looking after her.

Wyll cleared his throat, “Perhaps this is not the time or the place, but I have to ask, I get the feeling that you care for him too. Am I correct?”

Aster nodded and looked away, embarrassed that her feelings were so obvious.

“Have you told him that?” Wyll pried further.

“Not exactly…”

“Why not?” Karlach asked. “Gale may be a genius about some things, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t recognize flirting if it smacked him in the face. I wouldn’t wait for him to make the first move.”

“It’s… complicated,” Aster replied, loathe to explain her reservations, fears, and insecurities. However, looking at how eager Karlach and Wyll looked for her to continue, she supposed she would not get away with that answer. Perhaps it would do her some good to talk about all the worries that had been plaguing her.

“Well, for starters, there’s his tumultuous relationship and fallout with Mystra. It has not been long since things turned sour, and it devastated him. I worry that he is just looking for someone to… fill the void she left. And how am I meant to compare to a goddess?”

“That fucker that asked him to kill himself for her? I’d say you’ve got her beat by a mile,” Karlach replied indignantly.

Wyll gave Karlach a look before sharing his own advice. “Love is not something to be compared; each is its own unique and beautiful thing. And it is clear to me that he loves you, truly, not as a replacement, but as yourself.”

Aster smiled at her friends’ reassurances, but a deeper fear still weighed on her. “Mystra’s task for him worries me as well. I’m afraid I will not be able to convince him not to go through with it. And I’m afraid that if we – if we become something more to one another…” Her throat felt tight, making it harder to speak, and tears stung her eyes. “then it will… it will hurt even worse to lose him.”

“Oh, Aster, come here,” Karlach said with open arms, and Aster accepted the offered hug gratefully. “I know losing someone hurts. But take some advice from someone who’s living on borrowed time herself. Do you know the thing I want most for the time I have left?”

Aster shook her head.

“To not have any regrets. The best we can do is live fully, to embrace whatever opportunities life gives us.”

Wyll nodded. “As the saying goes, ‘tis better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.’ Regret eats at the soul like nothing else does.”

And they were right. If she opened up to him, let herself love and be loved in return, then she would always have the memories of the time they had together, even if the worst happened. Otherwise, she would still be left to suffer the pain and loss, along with the grief for what could have been.

Aster wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you. You are the best friends anyone could ask for.” She hugged them both again.

“Aww, so are you!” Karlach replied, hugging her a little too tight in return.

“Always happy to be there for a friend,” Wyll said as he returned her embrace.

At that moment, Gale arrived at the door, jug of water in hand. “Sorry I took so long,” Gale said as he handed the jug over to Aster, who took a long, refreshing swig.

“Well, glad to see you’re feeling better. Karlach and I will go tell the others you’re awake,” Wyll said, getting up from one of the chairs beside the bed.

“Yeah, we’ll go do that,” Karlach added, following Wyll out the door. “No need to hurry though, just take our time…” She winked at Aster as she left.

Gale sat back down next to the bed. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, thank you. Those potions work wonders.”

“Good, good. Glad to hear it.”

They sat there in awkward silence for a moment before Aster worked up the nerve to tell him how she really felt and apologize for how distant she had been lately, spurred on by her conversation with Wyll and Karlach.

 “There’s… something I want to tell you,” Aster said, taking one of Gale’s hands in her own.

“I want to tell you something too, I…” the pause was so long that Aster spoke again, only then they were both talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted out in unison.

“For what?” they asked, once again at the same time.

Aster chuckled, which caused the pain in her side to flare up again, and the chuckle turned into a wince.

“I’m sorry,” Gale said again, clearly referring to the laughter-induced pain this time.

“You said that already,” Aster replied with a more careful chuckle. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I was distracted earlier, when we were looking for Thaniel. I fell behind the group, wasn’t paying attention… I should have been in position; maybe then you would not have been hurt like this. I’m sorry, I should have done more to keep you safe.” Gale said, clasping both hands around hers.

“There is nothing to apologize for. Things happen, especially in such perilous situations as we find ourselves in. I hear you were the one who saved me, after all,” Aster said with a coy smile. 

“Still, I am sorry – and relieved that you’re alright. Now, whatever reason do you have to apologize? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I have, though.” Aster took a deep breath, preparing herself to finally open up. “I know I have been… distant and ill-tempered as of late. I’ve been upset and angry about so many things, but that is no excuse to treat you that way, especially when you’ve been having such a difficult time of your own. I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize; it can’t be easy to bear the burdens that have been placed on you: defeating Ketheric, lifting the shadow curse, stopping the Absolute. But know that you can always unburden yourself with me, if you need someone to talk to.”

“You’re too kind,” Aster replied, “Yes, those do weigh on me, and it is difficult to witness the destruction the shadow curse has wrought on nature here. But there is another thing that worries me even more. Mystra… It angers me that she thinks she has any right to ask that of you, and that she could make you feel like she’s right.” Aster felt her ire toward the goddess roiling inside like fire, and her arms shook in anger. “You’re smart, and brave, and talented, and kind, and you deserve so much better than being her sacrifice.”

Gale looked surprised at her response. “I… wasn’t aware it bothered you so much.”

“Of course it does! I care about you, and I – I don’t…” Aster felt the tears pricking at her eyes again. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, brushing a hand across his cheek. She wanted to peer into his thoughts, see if he was still genuinely considering going through with it, convince him how much she needed him, but she knew that was an invasion of his privacy. She could only show him how much she cared about him and hope that that would be enough.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Gale whispered back, leaning closer to her. “I was so worried about you.”

“Then let’s look after each other, and find another way to defeat the Absolute. We can make it through this together, alright?”

“Alright.”

A nervous, anticipatory silence stretched between them, and Aster realized their lips were mere inches apart.

Gale cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Well, it’s getting late. I suppose I should let you rest, yes?”

Gale started to stand up, but Aster tugged him back down by his sleeve.

“Wait, I… I haven’t thanked you properly yet for rescuing me.”

“You don’t need to –” Gale started to reply, but Aster cut him off with a kiss. He was clearly surprised at first, but quickly he was kissing her back, their mouths dancing passionately with long-building desire and anticipation of this very moment.

His lips were soft, and he tasted like a fine red wine, rich with a touch of sweetness. There was an arousing electricity to the kiss, as if sparks were literally flying between them, and considering Gale’s magic, that was probably true. It was everything she had imagined and more.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Aster was delighted to see the big, goofy grin on his face, the flush in his cheeks, and his hair tousled out of place by her fingers. He looked happier than he had in a while, and for her part Aster was so elated she felt like she could fly.

“Well,” Gale said in a low, seductive whisper as he leaned in to kiss her again, “remind me to rescue you more often.”

[stuffyflowers]

After so long doomscrolling utdr subreddits where you’re exposed to constant casual transphobia, it is nice to go onto the btd6 subreddit where the worst problem is that everyone is smug and annoying

[luthoniel]

My Brightest Star - Chapter 3: The vampire spawn

A couple of days has passed since the group of unfortunate adventurers were infected by the illithid tadpole. To their surprise, they have not yet turned. One night, Luthoniel is awakened by a surprise, Astarion looming over her, just about to bite into her neck. For the first time since their meeting she sees him for what he truly is; a vampire.

[stairnaheireann]

The Celts of Ancient Ireland

The first historical record of the Celts was by the Greeks about 700 BC, the Celts were a loose grouping of tribes that lived in an area north of the Alps around the Danube river in central Europe. Over the next few hundred years they spread east and west across Europe. The Celts first arrived in Ireland about 500 BC, there is no reliable information on how or when the Celts became the dominant…

[word-ghost]

sunspots // 3

The violet glow builds to a blinding white that leaves shadows behind in Ara’s vision when it fades. In that dark instant, she notes the first change: the quiet absence of Gale’s unsettled aura. Next, his steadied breathing.

Her eyes adjust to find his glistening brow, relaxed but etched with reminders of worry and discomfort. Still, Ara has never seen him so unburdened. 

Neither has she clearly seen the mark on his chest until his hand falls away. Dark, like a tattoo, incised into his skin.

“At present, I do not possess the capacity to sufficiently express my gratitude.” Gale’s voice no longer rasps. It comes clear and strong as if he hadn’t been feverish and out of breath a moment ago. “Thank you is not enough, but— thank you.”

Shimmers of thin chain drip between his fingers as he places the pendant in her hand. What looks like a singe on the silver surface leaves soot on her fingers. Old grief pricks at Ara’s heart like a sliver of glass.

“You’re better?”

“Fortunately for me, the treatment’s effect is rather immediate.” As well as he might feel, his smile does not return so readily. “I’m sure you must have questions.”

Ara hasn’t so much as nodded before he says, “I swear to tell you everything. In time. I— I need a bit more time.”

His dark gaze holds hers. Ara chooses not to protest despite her skin-prickling fascination. 

The glow— what could have caused it? And that twisty unevenness that surrounded him until he consumed a thread of pure magic— what sort of ailment is this?

Curious as she might be,  Ysara  knows some truths are better held close. Until the right time, if it should ever arrive.

keep reading

[xaeydnquartz]

English: She did not want the shard

Japanese: Kanojo wa sono hahen o hoshikunakatta

German: Sie wollte die Scherbe nicht

Spanish: Ella no quería el fragmento

Chinese: Tā bùyào suìpiàn

Korean: geunyeoneun papyeon-eul wonhaji anh-assda Italian: Non voleva il frammento Arabic: lam takun turid alqishra French: Elle ne voulait pas du tesson Hindi: vah theekara nahin chaahatee thee Less formal English: Dudes, she didn't want that stupid %^*&ing shard. [please forgive the potentially very poor translation, this was just a "for fun" post i thought of and put together in a few minutes with google translate xD lol]

[thechaoticdruid]

Sometimes I see other people's fem Tavs looking like beautiful princess like goddesses with their sexy clothes and long luscious hair and then I just picture Winnie showing up to meet the other tavs messy haired and dressed in probably sweatpants as she scratches her ass and yawns obnoxiously loud.

[dragon-fics]

(DnD) A Noble Scheme pt. 2

Summary: The plan has hatched! A new mage is in Waterdeep. Will your parents approve?

Warnings: don't think anything apply

Relationships: Claugiyliamatar & Reader, Evangeline/Evan X Reader

Characters: Claugiyliamatar (DnD), Evangeline/Evan (OC), Reader

Tags: arranged marriage, wlw / f/f romantic, slow burn(?), enemies to lovers, cross-dressing, controlling parents

word count: 2300

Based on my own lil love story

“Are you certain about this?” I said as I helped Evangeline fix her outfit, dusting off the broad shoulders she’d given herself beneath the purple velvet suit. She was taller now, with shorter curly hair and more angled features. A fine-looking young man, I’m sure the other women would say.

She sighed. “Of course I’m certain,” she grumbled. Her voice was so much deeper.

I brushed off her coat. “Alright… remember, midday, (S/N) Estate. Money and—”

“—staff.”

I pursed my lips together and looked at her eyes. I fixed the family crest pinned on her jacket. It was a flat oval, with an outstanding gold dragon on a green backdrop, gold filigree decorating the edges. “Don’t skimp out—”

“—on accessories. And keep my—”

“—head high.” I stood back and crossed my arms, looking over her outfit. “You look like a smart gentleman, coming to preserve a long line of mage blood.”

She snorted, amused. “Your parents will be oh so disappointed.”

I shrugged. “There’s worse fate and worse truths for them to know.” I sighed. “You look ready though. Maybe wander Waterdeep to get a feel of the place before coming to meet my parents?”

Evangeline nodded. “Sure. Then Evan Dragonclaw will come along and woo them, and you.” She winked and bowed, forearm to her chest.

I covered my mouth to stifle my laugher but failed. “Who?!” I doubled over laughing.

She lifted her head and stared at me.

“Evan who?!” I repeated, howling.

Evangeline stood up straight and cleared her throat. “Dragonclaw?” she slowly questioned. “Is that not a good name?”

I picked myself up and sigh, wiping the tears from my eyes. I cleared my throat. “It’s a fine name. Just amusing. Hardly an unlikely name to have. You’ll need a story though; Where do you reign from? How did you hear about my family? And what can you offer?” I crossed my arms. “There may be a question about your name, so prepare to defend it.”

She nodded slowly, reaching for where her long hair would usually be, but met a tassel of her jacket. "Y-yeah. That makes sense.” Her hand fell to her shoulder, and she sighed softly, tooth digging into her lip.

I stepped closer, putting my hand on hers. “I’ll help you now,” I grabbed my handkerchief from my skirt and took the lead pencil from Evangeline’s pocket. “You reign from Neverwinter, and your family is pureblooded—like mine. At this point, you’re rooted in as many family trees as possible. The rest of the mage families will not unite with the Dragonclaws, as they have their own blood-related reasons. A grudge lasting a few generations or something.

“What can you offer? Pure mage blood, specialising in nature magic and wild-forms. A family fortune worth hundreds of platinum and gold, with some heirlooms and antiques. They’ll speak of my dowry, which you’ll have heard of; worth ten platinum to take my hand.” I scribbled it all down as I spoke and folded the handkerchief. I met Evangeline’s eyes. “Oh, and the function to give heirs through me and keep mage blood strong.” I put the handkerchief into her chest pocket and sighed. “How does that sound?”

Her face was flushed and after a stunned moment she nodded. “I think that’s pretty solid… I would’ve never thought people cared that much about uh, blood.”

I sighed and fixed my skirt, shaking the soil from the hem as the sun lit up its velvet shimmer. “They do unfortunately. And they care very much about it. How fun it is to be a cow to produce another mage, instead of a human who would like to follow her heart… not that they’d get a child that way either, I suppose.” I lifted my head.

Evangeline looked at me with those soft brown eyes, taking pity on me. “Hopefully, this will grant you some freedom.”

I smiled a little. “It should. Once I am wed, they won’t be watching me. I will be yours, or Evan’s, and then we’ll come to some arrangement ourselves.” For some reason, I wasn’t so bothered by the thought of it.

She shrugged and looked out at the cobblestoned road behind me, the main road between Waterdeep and Neverwinter. “Yes, we will come to an arrangement. If I am to make mother happy, that’d mean making you happy. She likes you a lot.”

I laughed softly. “I am aware. I quite like her too.” I stepped into the road. All was clear but the lunchtime gathering was about to arrive, the convoy not far in the distance. The sea lapped at the coast and glowed in the midday light. It felt hopeful.

I looked at Evangeline. “Let’s get going. The city will help you prepare your speech.”

*~*~*~*

They were the longest three hours of my life. I spent it fixing up myself, restyling my hair, donning a fresh green summer frock with a set of amethyst jewellery.

But even after that, she hadn’t arrived. I found myself burning through all the odd things I’d put off for who knows how long; reorganising my books, storing my paints, and sharpening my embroidery needles.

Mother was curious when she saw me.

“What’s gotten into you? You’ve been shoving this aside since last winter,” she said in disbelief, sitting across from me as I held the needle in my hand.

I bared my teeth as I pricked myself again. “Nothing. Just figured it was a good time.” She wouldn’t buy that.

“Oh? And why not last week when it was teeming? Or yesterday when your father had that boring bank meeting?” she crossed her arms.

I drew in a breath as a thought crossed my mind. I raised my head slowly.

“There’s a mage in town. From Neverwinter.”

Mother cocked a brow. “A mage?”

“A noble mage. In the finest suit I’ve seen, a crested badge on his chest. He’s in search of a maiden with a dowry.” I placed the needle on the desk beside me, urgency in my voice.

She seemed suspicious but let me continue.

“And he’s quite handsome. With a strong name, Dragonclaw! Have you ever heard such a name, Mother?” I jumped from my chair and turned my back to her, eyes fixated on the window overlooking the bazaar below.

“And you think he’s headed here?” I heard her skirts shift as she rose from the chair.

I nodded and spun around, the loose skirt of the frock adding to the excitement. “Oh yes! He asked at the gate! I was picking up the persimmons when he was asking.”

For a moment, her face was unreadable. It made me nervous. But then she beamed and hugged me close. “How wonderful! There might be luck for you yet.” The tapped my nose with her finger and stepped away. “I’ll let your father know to expect him. Dragonclaw was it?”

I nodded. “That’s him. Dressed in purple, green family crest.”

She tilted her head to me. “Very wise choice in dress then, (Y/N).” She grabbed the door handle. “Be ready. Stay fresh. I’ll send Alys when he’s here.” Mother rushed out the door and I was left thinking.

There might be luck for you yet.

*~*~*~*

It was the most awkward tea party of my life. But Evangeline—Evan, played his role perfectly.

And apparently, I didn’t do so bad either. Though it’s easy to be perceived as enthusiastic when you are enthusiastic. My interest let my parents release their hold on me quite a bit. Any excuse, they sent me to off to talk with him, even allowing him into the gardens of the estate; reserved for only the finest of family events.

“Are they still watching?” Evan whispered; arm linked in mine as we passed the buzzing rose garden.

Turned my head to look at him, smiling warmly. I turned my eyes as far as I could, seeing my parents watching from the balcony.

I sighed and returned my gaze forward. “Yep,” I said through a for-show smile. The smells of the garden were sweet and earthy. It was well taken care of by the servants. All the bushes were blooming, the flowerbeds were full, and the lawn lush.

“What do they think of me?” he took in the blossoming trees arching over the path, shadows falling upon us.

“You’re in the garden, left to saunter through as you wish. They love you.”

Evan nodded and plucked a purple blossom from the flowerbed below—violets. “Should I bring up the marriage soon?”

I nodded, watching her spin the flower in his hand. “Yes. Or someone else will ask.”

“Mother won’t let anyone—”

“—I know she won’t.” I cut him off, harsher than I intended. I sighed. “But we need to use their interest, praise and adoration of you soon or they will look for someone else. Ask for my father’s blessing. He’ll probably give it easily. Mother will give you a ring. It was my grandmother’s and her mother’s before that. They may request a way to be engaged, something they can attend and watch and celebrate. If you want to follow that, agree. If not, they’ll agree to you whisking me away for a night and we’ll pretend or… something.”

I released a slow breath. It wasn’t a façade anymore.

We stopped at the entryway to the gazebo, and I guided him in. We were well out of sight now.

“And what do you want?” Evan asked.

I lowered myself onto the blossom and leaf-covered bench. I looked up at him. “I want my parents to stop forcing men on me.”

He grumbled and sat beside me. “I know that. I mean, what kind of engagement do you want?”

I looked at my pastel pink dress and fixed the skirt. “Private. You and me. No illusion.” My heart thumped loudly. I could see her before me. “M-maybe for Claugiyliamatar to oversee it,” I continued, stumbling over my words. “If she likes. I don’t know if she’d have an interest, though.”

Evan turned to face me entirely. “I think she’d love to see it. Though she might have her servants set up a date for us or something.”

I thought. “Probably. I wouldn’t mind. You’ll need wedding guests, though. She’ll have to dress them up.” I met her gaze. Those eyes were still Evangeline’s; warm and big, the most caring gaze I’ve ever seen.

She noticed, looked around quickly, and deactivated the enchantment on the brooch. She brought her hands to my hair and carefully positioned the small flowers throughout my braid—she’d picked them up during my spiel probably. Evangeline smiled, a kind of smug grin but also deeply caring.

My heart fluttered.

Her dark hand came to my face, hand on my cheek as tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Can I admit something, (Y/N)?”

I swallowed thickly. I forced myself to nod. “Sure,” I croaked, my mouth dry.

“My mother isn’t the only one who admires you.” Her hand came forward, finger tracing my jaw. My skin tingled, heart raced at her touch again. “Turns out I like the women she aspires to be.”

I leaned forward, my face passing by her hand. This was my chance to make my choice. My lips touched hers. “I like you too.”

*~*~*~*

I the warmth of her kiss lingered as Evangeline pulled away, ring slipping onto my finger. The yellow and green lighting-orbs lit her up like the angel she was in this lush forest. I caught a glance down; it was my grandmother’s. A silver ring with a peridot set in it, very fitting.

Claugiyliamatar clapped and grinned, coming forward. “Congratulations!” She set herself down and put a claw on each of us. “It’s so delightful that it’s all working!”

Evangeline touched the claw on her shoulder. Masculine outfits suited her; the dark forest green of her dress shirt complimented her and matched Claugiyliamatar. “Me too, Mother. This way, we all get to have our happily ever after.” She looked at me with those deep, caring eyes she’d been watching me with.

I had to look away, getting flustered. This was my first time having anything close to this burst of feelings, to feel genuinely wanted and loved, and wanting to reciprocate those feelings.

Then Evangeline looked at Claugiyliamatar. “And I have something for you, Mother.” She looked at the servants.

“I’ll give you two some time.” I touched her shoulder and moved to step away.

“No. Stay. I can only give her this gift, thanks to you.” She smiled at me and then at her mother. “Please, send them away, Mother.”

Claugiyliamatar nodded and waved a claw at the musicians. Once they were gone, she looked at Evangeline.

She cleared her throat. “With thanks to, (Y/N), my love and lady, I made this for you.” She pulled out a gold necklace with the same dragon brooch as Evan had worn, with an emerald for the dragon’s backdrop. “It is for you to attend the wedding.” Evangeline raised her arms and Claugiyliamatar lowered her head. Evangeline wrapped the necklace carefully around Claugiyliamatar’s horn. It was quite a pretty accessory.

Claugiyliamatar’s eyes shone. “Oh, Eva!”

Evangeline wiped under her eyes. “Try imagine being shorter, Mother. That should trigger it.” with her practice of druid magic, Evangeline had tested wild forms before.

Claugiyliamatar closed her eyes and, after furrowing her brow for a moment, changed into a tall, thin and elegant woman with the necklace on her neck and long ash blonde hair. In the light, it seemed to be tinted green.

I looked away in shock, as she was naked, but I was smiling.

Claugiyliamatar had gotten her wish.

[swindlefingrs]

Your kind are weak, and this world has been wasted on the crusades of the unworthy.

[varlaisvea]

respectfully? ma'am? your reasoning for holding a tourney where the prize was marrying your daughter is the absolute stupidest thing i have heard in my travels. and let me just say, i am the vestige of coldharbour and i have heard some monumentally stupid shit in my travels. this is it. the dumbest shit i've heard.

[slagzz]

Now when you wildshape you just use your own hitpoints, Jeremy Crawford when I catch you 👊👊👊👊👊

[quizzievivicalavellan]

Simple Pleasures

In which Gale is musing about sitting by the fire with Tara, and Aster Wild Shape's into a cat.

***************************************************

Sitting by the soft glow of the fire outside Last Light Inn, listening to the hum of familiar voices drifting through the doors of the tavern, Gale could almost forget the shadow curse that ravaged the lands beyond this small safe haven, the terrible journey that lay ahead, and what he must do at the end of that journey...

The end ...

Well, I did say ‘almost’ he thought, feeling those dark thoughts forcing their way back into the front of his mind. He took a deep breath, refocusing on the calming warmth of the fire.

It reminded him of long nights spent reading by the fireplace in his tower back in Waterdeep, Tara purring loudly curled up right beside the flames. Ah, simpler times…

Laughter poured out of the tavern, everyone amused by some joke he had missed. He turned back to the fire with a small smile that spoke of a hidden sadness. After so long spent alone in his tower, Gale found it even more difficult than before to be in a crowd. He was used to his own company and preferred it to the confusing mess of tens of people having tens of different conversations all around him, but in truth he would rather not be entirely alone tonight.

Aster was far more social than he, however, and he would never attempt to pry her away from the evening’s revelries. Aster had at last recovered from her injuries sustained while searching for Thaniel, and tonight their little troupe and the Harpers and tieflings at Last Light were having a last night of fun before they once again set out into the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Gale turned to see Aster standing behind him, as if she had read his mind. While technically a possibility given their shared tadpole affliction, she hardly needed telepathy to pull off this particular trick of timing. It would be easier to count the times he wasn’t thinking of her.

“You don’t need to come out here on my account. Go, have fun. I am perfectly content to enjoy a quiet evening in my own company,” he replied, hoping he was able to mask his desire for her to stay with nonchalance.

 “And what if I want to enjoy a quiet evening in your company?” She sat down next to him beside the fire, giving him a sultry look and placing a hand on his thigh.

Gale swallowed hard, feeling a heat that was more than the warmth of the fire. “Then I am happy to oblige. I would never refuse your company.”

“Good,” she replied softly, leaning against him and gently shifting her hand higher up his leg, sending Gale’s temperature climbing along with it.

“You seem tense, is there something on your mind?” Aster asked him, a concerned look on her face.

“Well, I…” Gale paused, thinking of how to deflect from what was truly on his mind, this being neither the time nor the place, “sitting out here reminds me of the fireplace at my tower, where I’d often sit with Tara. I never understood how she wasn’t absolutely roasting, sitting so close. Sometimes I worried she would catch her feathers on fire.”

Aster laughed at the image. “It feels different for a cat, sorry, a tressym. Heat against fur; it is a sensation of comfort like no other.” Gale supposed that, as a druid, Aster was as much of an expert in that subject as any non-feline could be.

“Alas, such simple pleasures remain outside my expansive pool of knowledge,” he replied with a dramatic sweeping gesture of the hand. Aster rolled her eyes in jest, her lips curled upward in an amused smile.

“Maybe it isn’t” Aster mused, her expression turning thoughtful, “Maybe I could show you.”

“What are you proposing?”

“The tadpoles, they let us share thoughts and experiences, right? So, if I took the shape of a cat, and we used the tadpole connection, then you could experience what it’s like to feel the warmth of a fire on your fur,” she gushed, clearly excited by the idea.

It was an intriguing notion. Gale had been curious what it felt like to be such an array of creatures as Aster could transform into since he first witnessed her Wild Shape.

“A clever idea. I always welcome the opportunity to learn something new; this time you can be the teacher and I your humble student,” Gale replied, referencing that first lesson in the Weave. 

In an instant, the beautiful red-headed gnome sitting beside him was gone, and in her place stood a tawny cat with long, thick fur and gleaming gold eyes. Aster-the-cat leapt into his lap, circling twice before settling down with her back toward the fire.

Gale reached out with the tadpole and felt Aster reaching back. Her mind felt familiar, yet subtly changed. The sensations of the senses were heightened; through her ears he could hear the creaking of tree branches, the far-off chirping of crickets, even the rhythmic beating of his own heart. Her thoughts came to him more as images and feelings than as words. And, of course, he felt through the connection the sensation of the fire’s warmth against her fur. He concentrated on that feeling, amplifying the connection until their experience was one. He felt the heat radiating across her fur as if it were his own, and the sensation was every bit as comforting as Aster had described. Gale let out a soft, pleasurable sigh, basking in the shared feeling.

After a long moment sitting quietly by the fire, Aster-the-cat shifted in his lap, nuzzling her face against his chest. She started to purr, the soft, steady rumbling breaking the silence.

On instinct, Gale brought his hand over to scratch between her ears. Her purrs grew louder as he stroked his hand across her back. There was something strangely intimate about the gesture that would likely have made Gale blush if he thought about it any harder, but at the moment the only thing he was thinking about was Tara.

Tara. His best and, until very recently, only friend. He hoped, wherever she was, that she was safe and not overly worried about him, though knowing Tara, the latter was about as likely as Lae’zel developing a sense of humor. He smiled at the thought, but nascent tears began pricking at his eyes.

He looked down to see Aster-the-cat’s giant golden eyes staring back at him with as much concern as her feline face could express. Tara had looked at him like that whenever the hunger of the orb grew painful again. That look sent the welling tears in his eyes spilling out over his cheeks.

He could sense that Aster was about to transform back when they heard footsteps approaching from close behind them. Gale rapidly wiped the tears away, hoping the darkness outside would obscure any remnants of the crying spell. He turned around to see Karlach and Astarion approaching the fire, wine goblets in hand.

“Aw, Gale, you’re missing the party!” Karlach whined, wobbling slightly from what had clearly been too much wine.

“Please, I’d hardly call that a party,” Astarion chimed in. “I’ve tasted rats better than this wine, and everyone still has all of their clothes on.”

Karlach laughed heartily in reply. Her laughter was infectious, and Gale found himself chuckling along despite himself.

Suddenly, Karlach’s laughter came to an abrupt halt as something caught her attention. “Oh. My. Gods. That cat is just adorable!!!” Karlach passed her goblet to Astarion and squatted down next to Gale to get a closer look at the feline sitting in his lap.

Aster-the-cat reached out a paw toward Karlach, who instinctually flinched away from the potential contact. Gale could practically see the moment that she remembered the fact that her latest upgrade to her mechanical heart had dampened her inner fire to the point that she was no longer a burn risk to those around her. Her face lit up like the sun and her clenched hands shook with excitement.

“I can actually pet it! For the first time in ten years, I can pet a cat. This is officially the best day ever!” Karlach exclaimed, reaching out her hand enthusiastically to pet Aster-the-cat. As she ran her fingers through the purring cat’s fur, Karlach appeared to practically melt with happiness.

“Who’s a pretty kitty? Where did you come from, hmm?” Karlach said in a sing-song voice, gently scratching Aster-the-cat under her chin.

“Oh, I think I have an idea…” Astarion said, looking pointedly at Gale. “Not just any ordinary cat, is she?” He smiled salaciously, his pointed fangs on full display. “Enjoy making her purr, Gale?”

Gale’s face instantly flushed with embarrassment, and he sputtered in protest, unable to form his rebuke into words. Karlach looked between the two with confusion for a moment before understanding dawned on her features and she put a hand up to her mouth to unsuccessfully stifle a snorting laugh.

“Nice one, Astarion,” Karlach said through laughter as she stood, “I’ll leave you two be then, didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

Astarion crouched down, waggling his finger before gently tapping it against Aster-the-cat’s nose.

“And here I thought Gale would never get any pus– OW!” Astarion yelled, shaking the hand that Aster-the-cat had just scratched.

“What was that for?” Astarion whined, licking droplets of blood off of his hand.

“Aw, come on, you had that one coming,” Karlach laughed as Aster-the-cat turned around and flicked her upturned tail dismissively.

“Fine, I suppose I deserved that, but that scratch better not leave a scar!”

“Come on, I’ll get Shadowheart to fix you up, you poor delicate vampire,” Karlach replied, guiding Astarion back toward the inn by the elbow.

“It takes a lot of effort to look this good, you know,” Astarion’s voice drifted back as the pair walked away. Once they were gone, Aster transformed back into a gnome again.

“He’s just teasing, ignore him,” she said, taking Gale’s hand in her own and brushing her thumb across his knuckles.

“Believe me, I try to,” Gale replied with an exasperated huff of a laugh.

She glanced up at him, the look in her bright green eyes shifting to concern, “I meant to ask you before, are you alright? You looked… sad.”

“I’m alright. I just… miss Tara more than I realized.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Aster said softly, her gaze shifting to the ground.

“No, you didn’t!” Gale responded reassuringly. “It was nice to think about a simpler time for moment. And you were right about the warmth of a fire against fur; what a sensation! It was a fascinating experience, joining minds with a cat. Well, a druid who was currently a cat, at any rate. It does make me wonder, given Halsin’s propensity towards an ursine form, what does it feel like to be a bear?”

Aster chuckled at that “Careful, you would look awfully tasty to a bear.”

“Oh, those bears ought to think twice. I can assure you, I taste terrible.”

Aster smirked suggestively. “Someday, I look forward to finding out whether that’s true.”

Before he could process what she just said, she stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Gale,” she said as she walked away, leaving Gale sitting there by the fire, burning on the inside.

[eupheme]

— tooth and nail

alpha!logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dub-con (logan goes into a rut), a/b/o-lite elements (logan-only - ruts/knots/mates), breeding kink, mutual pining, two jealous dummies, size kink, fighting as foreplay, return of The Claws (claw-play?), outercourse, biting, marking, come play, rough PiV sex 

a/n: pure pwp. reader has druidic-based mutant powers (wild shape, strong connection to nature/animals, influence over vines/foliage) and is from Earth-10005.

Logan knows this feeling. He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

Should have told you no. Should have locked himself away like he always did. Instead, he’s stuck, unable to keep his mind from wandering while his sparring partner - sweat-dewed and squirming - is pinned beneath him. 

(Or - Logan’s rut begins at a most inopportune time)

Something wasn’t right.

It’s been settling under his skin for days now.  Tiny hooked claws, digging into flesh. A syrupy urge low in his guts, his mind not quite his own.

He thought he’d left this part of himself behind. Left on his Earth, carved out and buried with the rest. 

The world he lives in now is different. There’s humans, mutants, aliens. But none like him, answering to something innate that defined him in a way that didn’t matter anymore.

It’s been a while. Almost forgot how it felt, after years of tamping down this part of him. Should have recognized sooner what it was. This rippling, simmering irritation just beneath his skin, so much stronger than usual. 

Should have locked himself away, when he realized his rut was returning.

In his years in his own Earth, the urge had lessened. Dulled by alcohol and grief. Managed by himself, in the few months this part of his nature did visit him.

But he hadn’t been able to tell you no. Hadn’t been able to resist, not when you smiled so prettily at him, practically begging him. 

And the thought of you leaving him behind at the X-Mansion, while you went off without him - to spar with Hank, instead - made him want to rip McCoy’s arms off. 

Desire swirls around him now, as he trades blows with you. Your arms snaking around his shoulders as you shoulder a well-placed hit, bringing you both down the floor.

Logan feels like a pup again, watching your breathless laugh. The clench of your thighs around his waist. The heady throb low in his guts, the pressure of his cock as it strains against his suit. 

His hips lift, separating him from you. Trying to form an excuse, while his brain is rocketing into overdrive.

Fighting back the urge to close that gap again. To peel down those tight leggings that drive him mad, bury his mouth against your pussy and make you scream. Fuck you full of him, until he’s dripping out of you for days. 

The though makes him growl, as he tries to concentrate.

Tough to fake an illness, or injury. You’d see right through him.

Or even worse, worry.

So all he had to do was finish out this session. 

Shouldn’t be too hard. 

If you can just avoid touching him… he might just make it through. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get distracted like this while sparring with Logan, but you can’t seem to help it.

Not when you’ve been nursing this thing inside you for months now. Something planted from another earth, settling low in your chest. Infesting like the vines that sprout from you, taking over until you’re fully ensnared.

You’ve tried to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin a good thing between you. 

Out of everyone in the X-Mansion, you got along with Logan the best. Used to a solitary lifestyle after being raised among the druids, before you knew the truth to what you were, the mutant lineage that flowed through you.

It had paired well with his temperament. His anger and grouchy quips slipped from you like raindrops on a leaf. Something about spending time with you softening him at the edges - just a little bit.

He was still the hard man he used to be. Grizzled, with that scowl of his and the flecks of grey at his temples.

And despite your efforts - forgetting and moving on hadn’t been successful. Not at all. 

Because it’s impossible to ignore when he’s close, like this. Pressing your back to the mat, your wrist slammed against the padded floor. A knife skittering away, because even after all this time - even with his insisting - you were still reluctant to use it.

It sends your pulse racing. He’s so fucking strong - and you think that maybe, even if you had been an equal pair, that you’d still throw these matches. 

Let him win, if it gets him like this. Sweaty and pressed up against you as you struggle beneath him. A thigh jammed between yours to prevent you from slamming your heel into his calf.

You’ll think about this later. 

You always do after your sparring sessions. You hand slipping between your thighs in the shower after. Bitten-back moans as you play out more in your mind - the plunge of your fingers inside your aching cunt until you’re shuddering with the pulsing pleasure, slumping back against the cold tile. 

The fantasies always comes back to him. 

You think that maybe Logan wants it too. Have felt his gaze on you when he thinks no one is looking, but your senses have always been keen. Animal attraction, perhaps. Pheromones. Something about his smell, his touch, beckons you - though you don’t understand what it means. 

And it’s only now that you realize he’s gone still above you. Eyes blown wide, a sharp breath of air inhaled through clenched teeth. A low growl, caught in his throat. 

Holding himself back. You can see it - the way his muscles string tight. How his eyes dip, flicking over your face. Down to the part of your lips. The sweat that dews your chest. 

Close enough that you can inhale him - the smell of leather and cigar smoke blending with more - something inside you giving them a name. 

Want. Need. 

It gives you courage. 

You bridge the gap, for a just a moment. A shallow lift of your hips. Encouraging, the movement pushing your tits against his heaving chest. 

“Bad fucking idea, sweetheart.” He growls.

It’s rough, low. Ground-out as if to himself, a wounded sound slipping from his throat. 

His response has a mark forming between your eyebrows. A soft murmuring of his name.

Logan’s face dips, eyes closing as he inhales. Then, without warning, his knuckles cradle against your throat. 

Wrist flexing as two of his claws spear forward on either side of your neck. Punching through the training mats and sinking deep into the concrete beneath.

Pinning you completely under him, your hips dropping as your free hand wraps around his forearm. A tug of fear ripples through you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Logan,” You repeat, gasping, “What are you doing? What’s wrong?

This isn’t like the times you’ve sparred before. He’s never drawn his claws. You don’t heal like he does - you both know it. Never using more than a loose fist, an open palm in your sessions. 

He’s breathing heavy. Holding himself over you, his other hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I’m gonna let you go.” It comes out ragged, through clenched teeth.

“And then I need you to leave, and lock me in after.” Only now does he look at you - his dark eyes burning, “You understand?”

His voice is so rough that it makes your skin prickle. Heat licking down your spine, stoking the embers that have settled low in your belly. 

“I don’t.” It comes out hushed.

How can you? It’s like a flip has been switched, in those few moments. Did you truly misread everything? 

His eyes haven’t left your face. There a peek of his tongue against his lips, the words coming slowly, “Don’t wanna do something you’re gonna regret.”

And for a moment, time stands still. An ache in your chest that’s so different than the one between your thighs. Finger unfurling, reaching.

Slipping up his arm, touching his cheek. He flinches, eyes fluttering shut as he holds his breath. 

“What could I regret with you?”

If it were anyone else, the question would be stupid. You should be running from the man that has you pinned to the ground, claws drawn. Another twitch and you could be dead - the middle unsheathing to pierce clean through your soft throat.

“Whatever it is, let me help you.” Your voice is gentle - coaxing -  and for a second, he leans into the touch. Palm pressing against heated skin, and you gasp, “You’re burning up, Logan.”

“You can’t help me with this.” He rasps with his eyes closed, voice strained. 

Your head shakes, “Let me try.”

A long pause lingers. The room filled with the uneven intake of breath. Logan’s words coming slowly, as his eyes open - dropping down to your throat. And then away, like he can’t bear to even look at you, “Does the word rut mean anything to you?”

It feels like something stirs again inside you. The flutter of wings, not unlike the feeling when you tap into your power. Like threads slipping your fingertips, connecting you down to the earth below. 

“Animals have ruts. Deer, elk, creatures like that.” A beat, as you begin to understand. Heat flaring in your cheeks at the implication, “But, not… not humans.”

He grunts, shifting.

It takes everything not to let your chin tip down, to look. 

“They do where I come from.” 

Pieces start to fall in place. His increased irritability around you lately. Territorial. Aggressive. 

Blending in to what you know, in your connection to nature. Those animalistic instincts that linger in your blood long after you’ve shed your beast form. 

Desire. Mating. An urge to breed. 

Oh, fuck. 

You squirm and he makes a warning sound without thinking - a rough rumble from his chest. His weight shifting on top of you, still hovering.

“How do you handle it?” 

His eyes flicker up to yours, then away again. Jaw working, a breath before he answers, “Take care of it myself. Or, I’d find someone to work through it with me.”

Even as you’re scrambling to make sense of it, you understand his insinuation. It stuns you into silence. You cannot allow that. The thought sends your heart crashing into your guts. 

Your chin tips up, defiantly.

“Let me help you.” 

Those dark eyes narrow as they snap to your face. Your words softening, as your thumb sweeps across his skin, the scruff of his cheek.

“I want to help you.”

Logan laughs, the sound ragged. Showing the points of his canines with the shake of his head. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is smoky-low. Rough as it scrapes across your skin, leaving goosebumps, “You couldn’t take me.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. Heat licking down your spine, and surely he can feel it - the flutter beneath the press of his knuckles. 

“I can.” It comes out breathy. Insisting. 

His tongue brushes over his lips as they part. A tilt of his head as he lowers himself. His knee pressing against the meat of your thigh, nudging. Opening your legs up further. Spreading them wider. 

“I will ruin you.” 

It’s growled in your ear. Each word coming slowly, as he lets the hard curve of his cock grind against your core. His meaning unmistakable, his voice pitching down with a ragged groan. 

“I want you to ruin you. You understand?”

And, you do. It floods through you, sending your nerve endings alight. Imagining how he would handle you, take you. The space between your thighs throbs. 

His admission - the rasp of his words and the heavy nudge of him against you makes you do something very selfish. 

And very stupid. 

You’re just able to reach your thigh holster now, with this new angle. The quick fumble of your fingers to loosen the small dagger.

The metal side of his claw pressing into your skin as your head turns. Before he can move, a flick of your wrist sends it through the air.

Your aim is slightly off, but it does the job. Seating itself in the control box by the door, a sizzle as the wires are cut.

A metallic snick as the doors lock. The lights click off, plunging the room into darkness. The ground bathed only with the stripes of sun that stretch across the floor from the row of window along the wall.

Logan lets go of your wrist, but leaves you pinned. His fist curling in the strap of your tank, knuckles pressing against your throat as he yanks you forward.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Logan snarls, “You want me to use you?”

His words make you whimper. A soft little whine that has his hips dropping further. An unconscious rut against your core, leg muscles flexing as you clench around nothing. 

You meet his second thrust, your body curving against his. Head tipping back as the seam of your leggings nudge against your clit.

“Fuck.” It almost sounds awed now, his words soft and slow, “You do, don’t you?”

Letting his full weight drop, as your hands grip onto his shoulders for purchase. You had thought you were pinned before, but he had still been using his knees, his elbows. Hovering, in an attempt to keep control.

Now, you can feel all of him, as his body maps against yours. Pulling a rough groan as his hips flex, grinding himself slowly against your core. 

“Logan, please.”

He growls. Fingers unfurling from your shirt. Ghosting down your side to fit against the curve of your hip. Biting into flesh with a bruising force, as his face buried in the crook of your neck. A hot exhale against your skin, as he pants - finding a rocking rhythm, as his body curls around yours. 

You can feel the way his muscles tense with each needy snap of his hips. The way each breath pitches into a near-silent whine, as he seeks friction. 

It’s not enough, as much as he wishes it was.

“I need-” Logan rasps, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

The hand on your hip snakes between you. Roughly tugging on the belt of his suit, until the clasp opens. All while murmuring assurances, half to himself.

“I’ll let you go. Work through it myself-”

That need he speaks of rolls off him in waves. Facial hair scraping against your cheek. The brush of his lips against your throat, just above the cool press of his claws.

“Don’t stop.” It’s easy to answer. Easy to lean into what he offers you, all those sweet promises wrapped in steel. 

The groan he makes is filthy, “Give me your hand.”

Your fingers unlatch from the vice-like hold on his suit. A broad hand wrapping around your wrist, as he tugs you where he needs you. The tips brushing heated skin, making you gasp. 

“Make a fist,” He rasps, “Fuck, that’s it.”

Lining himself up, pushing his bared cock into the circled grip of your fingers. Using you like a cheap imitation of what he craves, as his desire leaks from him. Slicking up your fingers, with each roll of his hips. 

He’s heavy in your hand. You can feel how your fingers stretch - flexing, opening, with each forward thrust. Barely able to circle around, fingers splitting when you reach his base. 

You can’t help but move with him. Hips rocking up, to match his messy rhythm. The knuckle of your thumb pressing against your seam, nudging at where you ache for him.

“I can smell you, sweetheart,” Logan moans, his nose dragging along the curve of your jaw. Lips parting so he can test his teeth against a spot under your ear, the pressure making you shiver, “Your pussy’s leaking, thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, as you whine. Squeezing his cock a little more tightly, wishing it was filling you instead just your fingers. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He husks, “You think you can take it?”

You want anything he’ll give you. And anything is better than the way he’s teasing you. Palm slick with his desire, your own soaking through the soft fabric of your leggings.

“I want it. Want your cock,” You breathe, “Want to fuck me, please-”

There’s a final jerk of his hips against you, his voice gruff as his thighs shift.

“Stay still then, sweetheart.”

There’s the sharp rasp of adamantium against stone as they withdraw from the floor. His knuckles easing carefully from your throat as he leans back. Eyes dropping down, considering.

Barely a heartbeat before there’s the kiss of metal against skin, as the edge of a claw hooks under your shirt. Your breath held as it slips up, between your breasts. 

A tug, and the fabric is shredding. Fibers splitting until the drag of the sharp tips, from belly to throat. Baring you, the air in the open room chilling your heated skin as you gasp.

Nipples already pebbled as his mouth descends. A needy moan loosening when he kisses at the curve of your tits, his tongue flattening across a tight peak. 

Your arms wrap around him, their duty forgotten. Distracting you as his claws shift down. Your breath catches, but then there’s the sound of them sheathing - slipping back under his skin. 

His hands finding the slice he made in the waistband, making short work of the rest himself. Ripping your leggings open - dragging your thighs over his as he leans back on his knees. 

And looking down, it’s only now that you can fully see him. The familiar, worn yellow suit that shows off how broad he is. Zipper yanked down at the crotch, his cock pulled through with his impatience.

Eyes widening, when you realize there’s more to him than you though. Hanging heavy between his thighs, pretty and flushed. A thickened bulge sitting where your fingers had split - what you had mistaken for his base. 

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart,” Logan’s hand already wrapping around his shaft, dragging the tip across your cunt, “Don’t make me waste a drop, alright?”

Fingers tugging the gusset of your panties to the side. Letting the tip slap against your clit. It glides against you, slipping against your combined arousal. Seeing how you flutter as you clench, your own need spiking.

“Logan,” You beg, “Stop teasing, please-”

He makes a rough sound. Almost a laugh, if it didn’t sound so pained. 

“Just listen to you. Begging like you’re in heat,” He grunts, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tip dips down, nudging at your entrance. Lining himself up, before his hips drive him forward. The sudden pressure chokes you - a bitten-back cry as your muscles string tight, thighs clamping down around his waist.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this.” He growls. Spearing into you an inch at time with a long, fluid motion. Fingers biting into your thigh, holding you open as your own scrabble against the mat - searching for something to hold onto.

“Tugging down those leggings. Fucking you into the floor.”

You can barely contain the whine. Brow furrowed, as he splits you open. Your pussy making room for him until the swollen ring at his base cradles your entrance. 

Only able to inhale a short breath before he’s moving. Hands catching your legs, slipping to the joints of your knees where they press into his ribs.

Pushing your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up further, as his cock drags along your walls. He feels deeper, bigger - groaning at the way you clench so tightly around him.

Better than any of those daydreams, as he leans into you. Chasing that animalistic urge inside to bury himself fully in you, ensuring that you’ll take every drop.

Your fingers bite into his wrists. The breath pushed from you with each thrust, feeling like he’s deep in your belly, as that swell stretches at your opening.

“Thought about it too,” You admit with a gasp, as that heat inside you burns, “Wanted you, like this.”

“Yeah? I bet you did.” He grunts, as his thighs snap against your ass. Leaning over you now, eyes fixed on yours. Close enough that you can see the glaze to them, lost in his need for release. 

Before his eyes drag down. Seeing where you’re stretched around him. Another shallow nudge, urging himself deeper. His thumb pressing at your entrance, before slipping back to hook around the swell.

“Good girl like you’d take my knot too, wouldn’t you?”

His knot. Your head shakes. He barely fits at is. You can feel every ridge as he ruts into you, every thick vein, “I don’t think- Logan, that won’t fit-”

The thumb shifts up. Pleasure burning through as he rolls the pad across you clit. His brow pulled in concentration, but there’s a flesh of white teeth.

“Sure it will, baby.” It’s slick, how he touches you. His cock grinding again and again against a spot that steals your breath, “You were made to take it. We’ll make it fit.”

It makes you moan. Your fingers sliding into his hair tugging at him. He comes willingly, a soft sound as his mouth dips to press against yours. Turning hungry as your lips part. Rubbing at you as his tongue strokes against yours, deepening the kiss. 

The pleasure licks in your veins, a molten feeling building in your core. 

A rough murmur against your lips, “Tell me you want it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You parrot it back to him without thinking, hips chasing the press of his thumb. 

“I want it,” You keen, “Your k-knot.”

Willing to do just about anything he asks if he keeps touching you like this. If he keeps rutting against the spot that makes your arousal leak around his cock, each drive of his hips loud and messy in the quiet room. 

He groans, the hand at your thigh pinching, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. The fingers at your clit slipping up to splay across your abdomen, his palm hot again your skin. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - pressing down, almost as if he can feel himself buried inside you, “Fuck, you’d look so good filled with my pups.”

His rhythm going sloppy, as a hand slips up to palm at your breasts, “These pretty tits nice and round. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, baby.”

Some of his words are new to you, but your body still reacts to his tone. The need, the longing. An intrinsic understanding of what he wants, even if it’s impossible with your implant. It still doesn’t stop your hand from slipping down to replace his.

Of pretending, with him. 

The circles practiced, leaving him to concentrate on his own end. Soft panting cries pulling from you as the pounding of his hips drags you closer. 

He’s close, as well. Those sharp thrusts growing shallow, messy. Letting go of your thighs, letting them wrap around his waist as he drives you into the padded mats. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your jaw. Tongue dipping out to drag against a spot on your neck that makes you go slack in his arms. 

“Should mate you,” He rasps. Teeth pinching down, where his tongue just was, “Bite you right here. Make you mine.”

The words tip you over the edge. A ragged gasp as your pussy clamps down around him, blood thundering in your ears. Nails catching on the panels of his suit as you cling to him, moans ripped from your throat as you pulse around him in time with your thudding heartbeat.

There’s no sharp bite of teeth. Just a muffled groan against your skin as he grasps at your hips. The sharp feeling of pressure increasing, as something thick works its way inside you. You keen as it stretches you, swelling so he can’t withdraw. 

Twin ragged moans, as you’re joined together. 

He comes with you squirming on his knot, his lips pressed against your throat. Sweet nothings murmured - “squeezing me so fucking tight, baby”, “gonna need you to take every drop, atta girl” - his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, pumping you full.

Still grinding into you. It draws your own orgasm out, with the way he’s rubbing against your walls, nothing left untouched. Overstimulation flickering at the corner of your mind, but you’re locked in place as he breeds you. 

Understanding what he meant by using you - you feel it now. Fucked out and boneless and it sends another gush of sticky need between your thighs. 

The sharp, panting breath starts to ebb. The ghost of his teeth becomes the nuzzle of his face, that strung-tight pull of his muscles turning liquid as he relaxes into your embrace. 

“Why were you so worried?”

It comes out hushed, in the now-silent room. You’re sore - will be, tomorrow. Pleasure-drunk certainly, but not quite as ruined as he promised. 

Almost to your disappointment. 

“That wasn’t too much.”

Logan laughs, the sound dripping with condescension. A flex of his hips, still knotted inside you. Cum leaking from your swollen pussy, smearing against your inner thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He coos, “Ruts can last for days.”

His fingers drop, dragging through his spend. Finding your clit again, rubbing slick circles against the tight little bud. 

Intent on doing this one himself. 

“We’re only just getting started.”

[moodboard] // I had two ideas for his claws after the movie - this was the second one! This is my first time writing something like this, so keeping it a little light with the dynamics 💖 thanks for reading!

and speaking of - I have to link this amazing alpha!logan thot by the incredible @avocado-writing! please check it out! 💕